Another quick note as I need to get in the shower to do more of Bristol…spent Sunday in Bath watching Jocko run the half marathon. He did his P.B. with a time of 1 hour 38 minutes. We were very proud of him with our pink and white pom poms. Wanna see a little video of us being interviewed? About half way through (1 minute, 32 second mark) you should see two very American ladies.

Off to Bournemouth tonight, Portsmouth tomorrow, London on Thursday and Friday, Chepstow Horse Racing on Saturday, Girls Night out in Bristol Saturday night, and English roast on Sunday!

Related posts:

1. Marathon and Dublin Done! After that turbulent four hour ride on the ferry, many...
2. Wrestling and Cheese Festival Seeing as it’s Thursday, I’m a bit late to talk...
3. Indian Food, Americans and a Short Man Curry night – a delicious way to start the weekend. ...

Related posts brought to you by Yet Another Related Posts Plugin.

We both agreed to swap posts about why we got into blogging in the first place. You can read my entry on Claire’s blog.

I’ll let the fantastic Claire take it away!

A Blog for Blogs Sake?

As part of the Great Blog Swap, I am writing this for the lovely Meagan.

For those of you who have never met me or my blog, I am better known as the Mouthy One(!), or Twenty Something Mum.

So why do I blog, what made me blog in the first place?

I have always written in some capacity, with varying success, mostly poetry, but for my school magazine as a teenager, or short stories for kids. I loved writing and was the kid most likely to be seen with a notebook and pen at the ready in case of inspiration springing itself on me!

I first started blogging though as a hobby, to stop my brain turning to mush when I was pregnant with my daughter, affectionately known as Mini, who is now nearly 3. I wrote this via My Space, but never really took it seriously, dipping in it and out when I could be bothered.

Then I had her, got completely sidetracked, with breastfeeding, moving from Kent to Berkshire, and being pregnant with another child 11 months after the first, and that was that.

Which brings us to Twitter.

When something pops up on TV, I have to try it- I read all the Harry Potters due to the hype, watched countless must see films and TV shows, and Twitter was no different. I loved the instant buzz of it, the noisiness of reading in on others conversations wherever they were talking from, so was immediately hooked.

I then saw that alot of the Mums who had added me had joined up to British Mummy Bloggers- I think the tweet which got me interested was one about a competition, so, off I went to that website. I saw that there were loads of Mum’s (and the odd Dad!), all of whom had no qualms blogging about the stuff that the “Proper” parenting guide books would never mention. I felt at ease there, and soon started looking in on Blogs regularly.

It got my writing juices flowing, and soon, I had decided to resurrect the blog, and so set up an account with Blogger, and so at the end of June last year, The Life of the Twenty Something Mum was born. It didnt take long to get followers, and comments, and even the odd blog award. At the same time, the curiosity of others blogs who had commented on mine meant I built up quite a good network.

So why Blog? Why not just read others?

A few reasons, but the biggest is the desire to be able to show Mini and her little brother Littlest (who is 18 months) to have a good record of what they got up to. That they will be able to see in years to come that people internationally used to read in on their sheninigans is even better. That they will probably cringe and shout “Mummmmmmm” at me is something I slyly can’t wait for!

An excellent example was Littler’s first birthday, when I blogged about his first 4 months being spent in a Neo Natal unit. I didn’t make it into a made for guide book fairy story- I told the truth, even the really awful bits. However, the comment’s we received as a family on that post brought me to tears, they were so kind.

Thats one thing I always do, I always tell the truth, elsewise what is the point? I am not Bree Van Der Kamp, nor am I Annabel Karmel (the fact I burn water will vouch for that small point) I am very much a slummy rather than yummy mummy, and proud! I can spot a blog which is written to sound like a Good House Keeping guide, and those go on the list of blogs I think are pap. I write about everything, from potty training my child and her reluctance to actually go along with sitting on the potty, to my partners nephew leaving his pants in my hallway (now thats made you want to read!), not very many topics are off topic for discussion, and I hope this honesty is why people read my blog regularly.

Yes honesty has sometimes got me and big gob in trouble, but again, unless I am proved wrong, which happens(!) and I apologise, I generally stand by what I write, and if I happen to upset people in the blogsphere by doing that, then thats unfortunate, but I shrug, keep calm and carry on. See told you I was the Mouthy One.

I love that others can come to me when they feel down, or left out, or that they can read my account of a not so perfect parent and think, “hmm, you know what, I’m glad I’m not the only one”.

As someone who suffered from Post Natal Depression, purely because I thought I had to be like the Mum’s in a parenting guide, so much so that I would plot weekly whether my first child was meeting the pre-set in stone milestones, and get depressed to the point of abjact misery if she didn’t, this makes my day.

I always say this-

“Rejoice that you have given the world a gift of a child, now stand tall, shoulders back, and watch them grow”.

That and the only good thing for (smug) Parenting Guides? Well, with heating bills going up, they make good kindling for an open fire…….

If you like this, and want to read more about Mini, Littlest, Elder and, well, me, you’re very welcome at the blog.

Related posts:

1. My First Blog Award It always feels good to be recognized for something you’ve...

Related posts brought to you by Yet Another Related Posts Plugin.

When Courtney and I met, we were six years old, waiting for the big yellow school bus to pick us up for our first day of first grade. I had my hair in a high ponytail fountain with my bangs curled under, and was wearing a white turtle neck with a red and black plaid dress that my grandmother had made my sister, Amanda, and I. Black patent leather shoes with white frilly socks completed the outfit.

My sister, being eight years old and in third grade, opted for something a bit different and more hip than the plaid dress. This being the late eighties, Amanda decided on stone washed jeans and a studded white and pink sweatshirt with the words Awesome and Totally Rad sprawled across the front in puffy paint. Courtney’s sister, Lindsey, was a grade above Amanda and a year older, but I don’t remember what she wore. Courtney’s hair hadn’t quite grown into the long curls that she had now, and was combed straight into a bob with two pieces pulled up perfectly. She was wearing a navy blue pleated skirt with a button down freshly pressed white collared shirt. She could have been straight out of a catalogue.

She was a good girl. In fact, the best girl I had ever met; doing everything her mother asked of her, never wanting to get her clothes messed up, and always working on her homework. I, on the other hand, was the opposite. I wasn’t a bad kid, but I had an opinion about everything, I tested my boundaries at every chance, and never did homework until the morning of. She was an extremely sensitive little girl, while I was thick skinned and a tomboy.

At our first meeting, we got along infamously, still worrying about the niceties that come with not knowing someone very well that somehow even children pick up on. We weren’t in any of the same classes, so our meetings were strictly at the morning bus, recess and briefly after school. That is, until my stay-at-home mother agreed to host the children of the working mothers at our house after school everyday. We had a large five bedroom house with an acre backyard, a jungle gym and an outdoor swimming pool. It had everything for kids our age, and Courtney arrived after school everyday from then on.

Courtney and I learned to hate each other the first year, at least as much as six year olds can hate each other. Everyday we would fight about something, whether it was who played Brad or Melody in Hey Dude or what dance routine we would practice. At one point, my mother told us “I have never seen two girls who butt heads as much as you two do.” Courtney ran home to her mother crying and said that my mother had called her a ‘butt head.’ We still laugh at that to this day.

The day it sunk in how close we had become was two years later when I got the devastating news we would be moving three hours north to New Jersey. The old saying “you don’t know what you have until it’s gone” was learnt at a very early age. No more dance routines, no more New Year’s Eve performances, no more running across the street to play with my best friend, no more sleep overs or early morning chinese jump rope, no more weekends spent baking cakes or riding bikes. Just a new cold school with new kids who didn’t particularly like new students coming in. And none of the other friends I met got me like Courtney finally did once we had broken through our stubborn facades.

The next time it sunk in how much she meant to me was when we moved back to Baltimore two years later, and her mom proceeded to move across the street from us again, on a different street – Willow Avenue. Both of our families had become broken since the last time we lived across from the other. My mom was a single woman again once she realized she needed love to make a marriage work, and her mom was single once she realized she couldn’t stay married to an alcoholic. Amanda and Lindsey became even closer as rebellious teens, and our mothers as single, hot, forty year old moms. We were a strong group of women who relied on the others for laughter and consolation.

Related posts:

1. “I Am a Lady Who…” Thursdays I’ll go first. I am a Lady Who… had a...
2. “Interview with Fam” Series – Granpa Harry Here’s an idea I’ve been mulling around for a while....
3. “Interview with Fam” Series – My Sister, Amanda Lee Lopez Amanda Lopez is the much much MUCH older sister of...

Related posts brought to you by Yet Another Related Posts Plugin.

This boy was so curious with his tense shoulders and direct, no-nonsense stance. He was like a new breed of eight year old who I could have easily mistook for a 38 year old. But once I boarded the bus, I promptly forgot about him as I fumbled for my change and tried to remember which coins were worth what amount amongst the millions of British silver and copper in my pocket. Once I finally dumped what I had on the driver’s lap and let him deal with it, and the passengers behind me did their best English grumble and tut-tut, I headed to the upstairs level. Double decker’s are the best.

The eight year old had taken my favorite seat right in front of the window, so I grabbed my second favorite row in front of the stairs and stared out the window. The bus took off, Bristol passed me by and my mind wandered. A rumbling of paper turned my attention back to the boy. I watched him as he unfolded the paper, carefully fluffing out the pages as I saw hundreds of other commuters do five times his age. I still didn’t know how to correctly fluff the pages of a newspaper, and I certainly wouldn’t attempt such a thing on a bus of all things. People would laugh, children would cry, and I’d probably get a paper cut.

I got off before the boy did, but he was still reading his paper. I couldn’t get him off my mind, so I told Jock about this strange, abnormal android of a child. Jock laughed, and said, “Yeah, we learn to read the papers at a young age. I remember reading it at his age.” When I asked him about traveling on a bus by himself at that young stage of life, he replied that children don’t have school buses, so they have to learn to ride public transportation. I am still baffled at this when I think back to my days on the school bus, chanting nursery rhymes, making up songs and blowing spit bubbles – for that, was as far as I got to reading a newspaper. (Unless my mom kindly tore out the comics for me – Brenda Starr was my fave!)

Another cultural difference identified.

(Sidenote: I was a little concerned that he may have been reading the Sun newspaper, in which case he would have had full frontal in his face right on page 3. Still don’t understand how the British see nothing wrong with having breasts in their newspapers – but then again, that’s just my Puritan roots coming through….Luckily, it wasn’t the Sun.)

Related posts:

1. Ode to My Best Friend My best friend is coming to visit me from Baltimore...
2. Keep It Simple Stupid Lately, I’ve had a lot of reminders of my second...

Related posts brought to you by Yet Another Related Posts Plugin.

Take a look, and let me know what you think.

Click on the photo above or click here to read more.

More coming soon!

Now, off to cook my Sunday Roast.

Related posts:

1. Ironic Fashion I have a new article up for AND Magazine. These...
2. The Implementation of Change It’s funny how you try to implement change, and then...
3. Heidi Montag’s New Face – the more mature take So, since my last post on Heidi’s new face, I’ve...

Related posts brought to you by Yet Another Related Posts Plugin.

Side Note: I apologize in advance for the content of this piece as it may offend certain people (ah hem, some men or women who have no interest in the woman’s reproductive cycles.) However, I find this extremely relevant to my situation, and how to deal with life in general – which is, in fact, what this blog is mostly about. Thank you for the feedback though!

A variety of evolutionary rationales for the syndrome have been offered, including that it is an epiphenomenon due to the selective advantage accruing to other phases of the hormonal cycle,[11] that it leads to “intensification of male ardour during the next onset of fertility”,[12] and that it prompts females to reject infertile males (who cause PMS due to not impregnating the female). “… an infertile male/potentially fertile female partnership would tend to break down, thus allowing a new pair-bond to be formed. The greater the degree of premenstrual hostility of the female, the sooner a fertile mating could ensue.”[13] Any theory would have to account for the persistence of PMS over substantial evolutionary time, as it appears to afflict baboons as well.[14] ~Wikipedia

I have some problems with the excerpt (mostly that I don’t want a baby right now!), but it makes sense on an evolutionary scale. Hey, at least it’s something. The wording is a bit hefty, but the gist of it can be understood.

I’m really getting into this PMS research – hey, knowledge is power. So, perhaps the more I know about it, the more I’ll be able to control it.

The only problem is that the more research I do, the more I realize that actually, no one has a fecking clue what causes it! Heck, even women who have their uterus removed still get it. The one thing they do know is that it comes along with menstruating. Brilliant!

If you’d like to read some more, here’s a paper written in 1992, and printed in the Social Science and Medicine. Click here for the full article.

Abstract-In 1931 a physician coined the term Premenstrual Tension, thereby commencing an extensive biomedical inquiry into the relationship between women’s menstrual cycle and the occurrence of physical, emotional and behavioral changes. However, despite 58 years of scientific research, fundamental questions remain unanswered. For example, there is still no consensus on the definition of PMS. This, in turn, has led to disagreement among researchers about which medical specialty is best suited for diagnosing and treating PMS. Is PMS a disease whose pathology is best understood by physicians in reproductive medicine or in psychiatry?

This paper argues that the inconclusiveness surrounding PMS is symptomatic of the persistence of cultural beliefs in the production (and reproduction) of medical knowledge. The roots of these cultural beliefs and their ‘naturalness’ in the context of Western ideas about reason, rationality and women are explored in the first section. The second section discusses the ubiquity of these same cultural beliefs in contemporary scientific research of PMS and in the controversy surrounding the proposed psychiatric diagnostic category of Late Luteal Phase Dysphoric Disorder (LLPDD). Finally, a new, anthropologically and sociologically informed approach to understanding the phenomenon of PMS is suggested.

Another person he suggested reading is Camille Paglia. Might just order her book.

Thanks Dad, for teaching me more about PMS!

Related posts:

1. PMS – Pain in My Sass I’m thinking about PMS today (or PMT – premenstrual tension,...

Related posts brought to you by Yet Another Related Posts Plugin.

There were times when I could almost feel a roll of the eyes coming from myself when approaching another beautiful scenery up ahead – from another castle steeped in history, another amazing group of rolling hills or another incredible coastline. There were times when I just didn’t know if I could stomach more beauty and more nature.

But, “Jesus,” I thought, “what the heck is wrong with you? This is AMAZING, don’t you get it?” I did get it. I knew logically it was all amazing. But I wasn’t FEELING it.

I mean, I was seeing the mountains, the cathedrals, the millions of books in Trinity College and I was reading the plaques associated with the meanings of it all. But I wasn’t really there. I was. But not truly. Not all the time. The “Oooohs” and “Ahhhs” coming from my mouth sometimes felt like that’s what I should be saying at these moments of intense breathtaking scenes, and they came out on target and with the rest of the group – but something was missing.

And, I couldn’t figure out what it was. At first, I put it down to the fact that I had lived in France and I’d been living in England for some time now. The intensity I felt the first time I entered Europe could never be replicated because I no longer had those fresh eyes to take everything in. I admitted defeat and realized perhaps this was the sign of getting older and seeing more and knowing more. I was an adult, and with it came lack of excitement?

But, I yearned to get authentically excited again about IT. Life. The Planet. History. Nature. Seeing things. TRULY seeing things. Ireland. I knew it was magical. I could sense it. But I wasn’t feeling it.

Then, I told myself that traveling was more about being with the person you’re traveling with and experiencing life with them. The sights and sites were secondary. That didn’t quite click with me either. Because, if I couldn’t experience it for myself, then I wasn’t truly experiencing it WITH them…right?

So, what was it? Why was there this fog that left me feeling a bit detached, a bit lackluster, and frankly, slightly annoyed at times?

Everyday this feeling slowly started to go away. Ireland began ebbing away at the cobwebs in my spirit. It made tiny cracks in my “adult” brain until holes started forming, peeking into my child soul. I didn’t notice it at first…until, I made a decision.

I turned off my phone, left my laptop in the car, had a good night’s sleep with no alcohol, and …. there Ireland was. Stretched before me like a vast dreamlike land of delight. Only it wasn’t a dream. The colors were vivid and everything was shiny and new again.

I was awestruck by the lakes, rainbows and ruggedness, not aggravated by them. I felt more free and open and alive than perhaps…ever. It was better than the first time I arrived in Europe. Because this time, I had to earn it. Not better. Just different.

The weird thing is. I didn’t even notice that I was feeling in any way lackluster before this. Bristol has finally started feeling like home, I am more in love than ever, and my book is coming along better than I had hoped. I’ve made some great friends, and sure I miss my family and the US, but I also know I’ll be seeing them soon. I’m happy.

Maybe what I realized is that everyday happiness just has a different feel than holiday happiness. You have to adjust to each. One is perhaps more exaggerated than the other. It also reminds me to turn off my laptop, and take walks more often. Running perhaps has its limitations?

With that said, technology is the devil. At least for me. I can too easily become addicted and obsessed with postings, what’s going on in twitterland, who wore what on X-Factor (the UK’s American Idol for the folks back home), who emailed me – that what goes on in cyber space becomes more important than what I’m actually doing in real life. It’s a sad disease.

So sad that in order for me to get any writing of my novel done, I must turn off the WiFi, and if Jock is home and needs it on – I have no chance of writing or editing my book because… well, I need to know who is number 1 on the charts right now, or somebody said something to me two weeks ago that I had been meaning to google because I was pretty sure they were wrong about that…

So sad that I had to delete myself from facebook six months ago.

So sad that it took me over a week to wake up from this Cyberspace haze while I was in possibly the most gorgeous country I have ever seen. And, I do think that was a big part of it.

Luckily, I have come back a new woman! But wait, first I have to find out the origin of the Claddagh ring and figure out which way to wear it on my finger to say that my heart is taken…

All that said, I definitely had one of the best times of my life by the end. (see next entry for details!)

See photos here and here.

Related posts:

1. The Luck of the Irish? Heading to Ireland tomorrow, so thought I’d post one last...
2. That Middle Area I sit here tonight waiting for my boyfriend to get...

Related posts brought to you by Yet Another Related Posts Plugin.

I know that it happens to most women, but why? We all know it happens, we all know we must deal with it, but is there a biological and possibly positive reasoning for it?

The fact that our minds get fed up with everything around us wanting us to strangle anyone who comes close to our personal space – does this somehow allow us to see the positivity in other days? Was there a extremely primeval aspect to this Pre-Menstrual psychosis? Did it help us when we were cave women sitting around by the fires to somehow get things moving?

I guess my question is – what is the fucking point??

Because there must be a point to it all, right? Our bodies are temples, blah blah blah, and sensitive and complex. Apparently God must have had some kind of plan when he decided to give us this nasty monthly syndrome. He couldn’t have just wanted to mess with us, could he have?

I’m sure I could do more research, or, any research at all, on this topic, but I’d rather sit on my bed, sulk and eat chocolate…

I really would like the answer though. I feel it might help me to understand this pointless misanthropic stupidity, or this pain in my sass, or even this probing maniacal sorcerer.

What you got?

Related posts:

1. PMS – an explanation? I have to give credit to my Dad for finding...

Related posts brought to you by Yet Another Related Posts Plugin.

If you’re interested in reading some of my latest guest posts and interviews, see below:

• Expatica.co.uk - ‘That Middle Area’ – This was an entry I wrote a while back, but Anna, one of the editors of the website asked if she could re-post it. Of course, I was more than happy to oblige. Here is the article.

• Expatica.co.uk – ‘Expat Voices Interview’ – Anna, the editor, writes:

“American Meagan moved to the UK for love and finds the Brits “the most lovely people on Earth”, if you can put up with a little passive aggressiveness.”  Click here to read full interview.

• Anglotopia.net – “The Best of the South West” (according to moi). Jonathan, the creator, writes:

Editor’s Note: The following is a guest post from Meagan Lopez from the fabulous blog The Lady Who Lunches. Meagan has kindly done a write up of the must see’s in Southwest England, where she recently moved to with her British boyfriend. Click here to read the full article.

• Britfancy.blogspot.com – “What I Did on My British Vacation – Brizzle! Alright My Lovers?” – This one I didn’t write. My blog friend, Fahmina, wrote it about her time spent in Bristol. Fahmina and I met for the first time when she came to visit – so cyber space turned into reality. And, she’s such a sweetheart! You can read all about our day out together here.

I’ll have an fashion article up on ANDMAGAZINE.com by the end of the week as well, and should have some stuff up on one of Demand Studios Partners website’s (as that’s where I started a new freelancing job).

Related posts:

1. I’m a Guest Blogger! I’ve been asked to guest blog, and if you are...
2. Writing in the Moment I was at a dinner party last week with some...
3. AND Magazine – “The Red Lipstick Weapon” Parts of this article have been edited for the purpose...

Related posts brought to you by Yet Another Related Posts Plugin.

I had a guy at a party Friday night ask me if it was true that Americans thought that we were the only country that existed.  I explained that for many people that is true, that Americans can be very egocentric, etc.  He said that he had a very bad taste in his mouth from Americans because they didn’t seem to know about anything, and that he heard this and that about us, and how can that be possible if we are such a dominant country in the world.

I tried to explain that many Americans have never been outside of the country, but we’re also not as fortunate to have many other countries surrounding us as in Europe.  We continued talking about the differences, and he was a little surprised at my knowledge of his culture and history.  He brought up the fact that Americans helped the French at the end of WWII, and that is a big reason he doesn’t understand our lack of compassion in the world at this point of time.

He asked me why I would want to come to France to study if I was already located in the most powerful country in the world.  I could only say that I didn’t really know, but there was something wonderful I felt when thinking about France and its people, and that’s why I was here to find out why I wanted to be here.

I was very humbled by the way he asked me questions and was really concerned about learning why he would hear such things about Americans.  It just made me think how important it is when going to another country to represent  your country well.  Had I been rude or loud and ignored what he had to say without listening, he would have continued to think that no wonder Americans have the reputation they have.

As the conversation was coming to an end, he looked at me and said…”You have saved a French man from thinking ill of your country.  I will now think differently about Americans.”  I felt at the time like I was in some amazing back to school special on different cultures mingling.

I ask myself this often. Do I have a duty to represent our country well, or is that too big of a task to put on myself? In the end, people are going to think what they think about me, and perhaps I can only be the best person I can be. That bodes the same for living life even if I were in the USA, doesn’t it?

Related posts:

1. My First Old Trafford Experience Tick that one off the list. I went to Manchester...
2. Making Friends Abroad As I have such close friends back home, being away...

Related posts brought to you by Yet Another Related Posts Plugin.

She then changed into this MAL:

And now, can be seen in or around Bristol as this MAL:

Thanks for hanging in through all the changes. I needed all the support I could get.

Stay tuned for more updates…

Related posts:

1. Hair Advice Needed! To follow the 2-hour conversation with bright red-haired lady in...
2. TA DAAA! After 5 hours of sitting in the salon chair…I am...
3. Making Friends Abroad As I have such close friends back home, being away...

Related posts brought to you by Yet Another Related Posts Plugin.

Last year, I got here in December, so winter only lasted three or four months…max.

I had forgotten how long winter is! Last year, I said, “I don’t know why everyone complains about winter. I think it’s nice to have a break from the heat every once in a while.”
This year, it’s February, and I’m already in month four or five? And, it’s not looking like it’s going to be dissipating anytime soon. Yes, I have to say that after a year and two months in England (officially today!) that I am over this weather. Many thought it would take only a few months, a few days. I have outlasted most perhaps. But, I am so over it.

What I wouldn’t give for Los Angeles right now.

Although, tonight I had a nice brisk walk, and it felt nice. At least I wasn’t sweating. I don’t like sweat very much either.

Oh, and it’s my half birthday. So, feel free to wish me a very merry half birthday! Why do half birthdays stop as soon as you enter double digits?

Did I mention that I got my first for-real freelancing job? I did. I am now a professional writer (the first time I wrote that sentence, I accidentally put a t instead of a w after no. That would have been awkward.)

I met up with an American who found me through my blog. She just moved here, and we went for lunch on Tuesday.

I love her. No, seriously. She seems amazing, and I hope she becomes my friend. Internet friend dating can be creepy, but this girl rocked my socks off in a purely platonic girl-love way.

Perhaps I’m American-person starved? I keep thinking I hear an American accent everywhere I go, and yesterday, I actually got it right. It can be embarrassing when I go up to strangers and ask them if they’re American, and they tell me they are Scottish. That has happened. Jock says I have the worst ears for accents ever.

Probably true. But, yesterday, at the cinema (or movie theater as we Americans say), I met two girls from New Jersey! How random is that? I think they may have thought I was crazy when I kind of stalked them for a minute in the ladies room, and then finally got the guts to ask. The worst part is I left mid-way through our conversation. What was I supposed to do? There was a stall opening, and I couldn’t stand around all day while we discussed the fact that I used to live in New Jersey when I was 8 years old.

What else?

I think I may cut all my hair off tomorrow. Will let you know after hairdressers. Thinking bob a la Katie Holmes. Or possibly Meg Ryan a la City of Angels. Or Frankie Sandford from The Saturdays.

No related posts.

Related posts brought to you by Yet Another Related Posts Plugin.

As if there was a tree with lights and presents underneath it outside our bedroom door, I awoke early. Early on a Sunday morning is rare, if not illegal, in MAL’s world. It was Valentine’s Day, and I couldn’t believe I had someone who was planning something special and secret for me.

I knew this much – it was an hour away, my attire needn’t be fancy, and it closed at 2:30PM. No idea, but the tummy was doing flip flops.

Radio was blaring as we got dressed, and packed a lunch. “Did you hear that?” he asked me. “No, why?” I replied. A man had phoned in on Radio 1 declaring he would be taking his girlfriend to the same place Jock was taking me. All I heard was the radio announcer praising him for his good idea.

The car wound through the countryside, past Bath, past Frome. The houses got bigger, and the architecture more elaborate. The sun was being ambitious – shining all the way through its work day, not giving up once – a shame mister wind and cold didn’t want to take a break.

“Have you heard of Longleat?” he asked me as we passed the first sign.

“Never. Should I have?” I answered. The card he gave me read “I hope you enjoy your little piece of Africa today.” I had no clue what that was supposed to mean. I was about to find out.

The Marquess of Bath decided to build a large safari in 1966 on the 30 acres of land that he owns. It was the first safari park outside of Africa. It’s an echo of old royal animal collections (as an association of wealth) and the first of a new type of zoo. Lions and tigers roam free in large enclosures that cars are allowed to drive through (as you’ll see in my pictures below when they can easily cross in front of your car), monkeys climb on your roof, camels stop traffic and wolves hunt you down.

Since Jock traveled through Africa right after we met in March 2008, this was his way of showing me what I missed while he was away. I am smiling from ear to ear as I write this.

I am in awe of this land. The animals seem happy, well taken care of, and it’s an incredible way to see them up close and personal.

There’s another area of the park. There is a large house that the Marquess still resides in with his family – he lives in the penthouse, and the public can tour the first floor. It’s an incredible example of the Elizabethan era, and has been owned by the same family for over 400 years.

We ended the day eating delicious food in a country pub – the Blathwayte, just outside of Bath. There weren’t many other Valentine’s diners, and we had our own fireplace to ourselves. We relaxed over a glass of wine and a pint of cider, and mulled over how horrible the idea of Valentine’s Day actually is – but secretly loving the way we did it.

Related posts:

1. Surprise! Saturday – my mom’s graduation.  The day of my unveiling. ...
2. Courter’s Yankee Invasion We won the pub quiz last night! OK, we didn’t...

Related posts brought to you by Yet Another Related Posts Plugin.

Enjoy your day whatever you’re doing!

In the meantime, enjoy my new Valentine’s Day article! Click on picture below.

Related posts:

1. Valentine Surprise As much as I tempted him to reveal the location,...
2. AND Magazine – “The Red Lipstick Weapon” Parts of this article have been edited for the purpose...
3. Ironic Fashion I have a new article up for AND Magazine. These...

Related posts brought to you by Yet Another Related Posts Plugin.

No related posts.

Related posts brought to you by Yet Another Related Posts Plugin.

I went to Manchester United’s Football Club yesterday – Old Trafford. It was my first time, and it was A-MAZ-ING. Loved it. Yup. Loved it. L-O-V-E. Got it?

Although, when the fans started shouting over and over again – LOVE UNITED, HATE THE GLAZERS….I shrank a bit. The Glazers are the American owners…I kept my accent at a minimum. I couldn’t help but feel a bit personally embarrassed for my fellow countryman. But, then I got over it and into the game.

Going to the nation’s largest Premier League football stadium, and still feeling like I was an integral part of something meant something. It meant I wasn’t just a seat in a stadium…which is what the protesters wearing the green and yellow scarves were trying to say. They were trying to say to the American Glazer family, who own the football club, that it is the fans and the city that make this football club what it is – it’s not a franchise, as the Glazer’s mistakenly said during a conference about  the club, and you can’t expect to get the football club into £700 million debt without a fight from the fans. You can’t raise ticket prices so high that people who have lived in the city for decades and been season ticket holders just as long, can no longer afford to go. This isn’t America, they’re trying to say.

It also shows to me the advantages of living in a smaller country can do. It makes you feel like you are actually a part of a community. This is the nation’s largest Premier League football stadium (thank you Sam for correcting me – Wembley is the largest football stadium at 90,000), and it only holds 76,000 people. My college football stadium at USC held 93,000 seats, and that’s college! I was three rows from the field, and there was Wayne Rooney, the white Pele, literally 30 feet from me. Amazing. Although, as Jock pointed out to me, the Super Bowl stadium in Miami holds the same amount of people – so perhaps it’s the fact that you’re so close to the field. In America, they put the seats far back, so even the best seats in the house are far away.

It makes you feel less lost being in a smaller country. It makes me realize why it’s so easy in America to feel lost, like just a number and searching for your place in the enormous country. It makes me understand why there are so many Americans buying self-help books, going to enlightenment seminars, and healing conferences. It also shows me how the English can scoff so easily at our seemingly pathetic attempts at “finding ourselves.” But it’s no wonder…if you went to a high school with 5,000 other people, you’d probably feel a little lost as well. The English have a built-in community. It’s not hard to feel recognized here…the numbers themselves are on your side. But it’s more than that, they build things out of a need for something. They don’t (or should I say didn’t) build things for purely financial reasons, for capitalism…football teams here came out of a community of people who wanted to get together and kick a ball around. (Click here for Man Utd’s history. Of course, now people would argue that the footballers make so much money that they only play for the money, but I disagree…I think most of them would still play even if they got paid a fraction of what they earn now.) But, the history alone builds soul (although I’m sure the English wouldn’t go so far as to use the word soul, but I will because I’m a cheese dick American.)

I think I may have understood before how, culturally, it’s easy for Americans to be in constant search of their identity (afterall, we have the biggest melange of cultures possibly known to man, without one truly of our own), but I don’t think I had ever really thought of it in terms of events and numbers. Yes, the English have a much stronger sense of identity because their culture goes back hundreds of years, and therefore is more easily embedded in their sense of self, but when you go to a sporting event and you can honestly say that you experienced it rather than just simply being a spectator…that says something else. This may sound like – DUH! to others, but to me, it’s a truly AH HA moment.

I felt very American on more than one occasion last night, but the moment when I felt the most American was when I was leaving the stadium. One of the security guards looked at me, laughed and said “I’d recognize those earrings anywhere, hey!” I laughed out of politeness, not really sure what he was going on about, and continued on my way. Then he said, “Hey, Bette!” as if that would help me comprehend his joke. I just continued laughing and moving away from the strange man in the neon yellow vest. Jock looked at me and said, “You have no clue what he was talking about, did you?” “Not really,” I responded,  “I assumed he meant Bette Midler or something?” He replied, “No, he was comparing you and your earrings to Bet Gilroy from Coronation Street.” I had these big hoop earrings in.

I’m still not entirely sure what the connection is, but I’m glad he got a good chuckle out of it. Besides, these are people who have never heard of Full House, Family Matters or Where in the World is Carmen San Diego? (A friend of mine, Katie, informed me of this when she found out her English fiance had never heard of these shows.)

So, what is the moral of the story?

What good is a small country when you can’t watch the hits that started the careers of the Olsen Twins?

And, if you want to watch my American cheese-dick video that I made, see below!

Related posts:

1. Saving Money…or Not This weekend our one and only goal was to stay...
2. To Do in Eight Months I am starting to realize that I will only be...

Related posts brought to you by Yet Another Related Posts Plugin.

It’s not just me, either. The previous tenants (our friends S and L) also agreed that for some reason, these tea mugs have special powers – they keep the water warmer for longer, they fit perfectly in your palm, and something about the smoothness of the porcelain against your lips…I know, it’s gay. But so true! They don’t look like anything special, but they are. And, for £9 a mug at House of Fraser, they better be! (And no, I’m not being paid to endorse these buggers.)

Related posts:

1. Our New Place Two of the three main rooms are finished, so without...
2. Lahloo Tea Giveaway! I was sitting here thinking about what to get my...
3. And the Winners of Lahloo Tea Are… Lahloo Chai Tea Winners: 1. Claire Hoeckel. Being newly engaged...

Related posts brought to you by Yet Another Related Posts Plugin.

Then, our living area:

And, Finally, the only part of the bedroom that matters (No, not that area) – the wardrobe and vanity area. These are all my clothes, by the way. Jock now has his very own bathroom and closet. We are truly moving up in the world. I can’t tell you good it feels to have the room and living area organized. This place feels more like us – more modern and open. I loved the other house, but it just wasn’t quite…well, us.

My other favorite part of the place? The tea mugs. Seriously, it’s something about the way they keep the water hot and the way they feel in my hands. Can’t explain it. Just amazing.

On that note, I’ll leave you with a Mitch Hedberg quote:

“It’s very dangerous to wave to people you don’t know because what if they don’t have hands? They’ll think you’re cocky.”

Related posts:

1. Jamie Oliver Cosy Tea Mugs These are the tea mugs I was rattling on about...

Related posts brought to you by Yet Another Related Posts Plugin.

Saturday – Jock’s birthday present came to life! Three words – MEN IN TIGHTS. Despite Jock’s brothers cries to the contrary about TNA Wrestling versus WWE sucking, I found it AWESOME (as the crowd shouted over and over again – “This is Awesome. This is Awesome.” Yes, we’re still in England here. Although, I have to admit, I never watched WWE, so I can’t compare the two. In fact, I’d never watched wrestling before Saturday night.)

The three best parts of watching live wrestling at Wembley Arena? The hilariousness of it all (we literally did not stop laughing the entire night), the strange feeling of nostalgia for home that I felt (the announcers were all American), and the tag-team duo BEER MONEY. Yes, their name was Beer Money, and they got the crowd to continuously shout it throughout the evening whilst they wrestled…drinking beer – even when they weren’t in the ring. That’s impressive. Guess where they were from? Yup, Texas. Even the tag team duo The British Invasion weren’t even British. They got on the microphone and had the biggest New York accents I’ve heard since I’ve been out here. Who knew wrestling would remind me of home?

Oh, and then there was the butt move. Gotta love this one. Halfway through the show, we moved forward to better seats.

So, that was wrestling. Would I go again? Hell to the yeah. Honestly, I think this present for Jock’s birthday may have been more for me than him. Although, he seemed to have enjoyed it.

Sunday. A lovely cheese festival was happening in Bristol, and I met up with Kate from Lahloo Tea and her husband, and Zoe and her husband, Lee. It was a very small festival as far as festivals go, but the best part? The ridiculously good folk band called Fromage en Feu. They had a string bassist which again, reminded me of past days when I played. And they had a name in french, which was just lovely (as many of you know my love for everything French), oh and I spoke in French for a good five minutes! That alone is enough to make an entire weekend for me. The two girls standing in front evoked images of Mary Poppins with their sweet little hats, and whereas the day previous, I was in American wonderland, Sunday was the epitome of a British winter – Apple Cider, a waterfront, wine, a harpsichord, English people everywhere….you get the gist.

(Side Note: I’ve also begun noticing how I’ve been asking myself questions in a lot of previous posts. Did someone else mention this to me? No, it’s merely my own musings.)

No related posts.

Related posts brought to you by Yet Another Related Posts Plugin.

As some of you know, following up to Christmas, I had a series called “Interview with the Fam.” Well, since I wasn’t able to get everyone in my family interviewed on time, I will now be doing an interview a month until I run out of family members (that may take a while). The thing I’ve found most fascinating about these little interviews is how much (embarrassingly) I don’t know about my own family. Plus, it inspires me on so many levels – I learn more about my own self, and am reminded of how much you can learn from your own backyard.

Without any further ado, I present to you Aunt Donna!

Between freshman, sophomore and junior years in college (university), I came back to Baltimore for the summers. My Aunt owns a cleaning business, and she kindly hired me to help out. I have never met a woman who works harder than she does (and therefore inspires her employees to work harder!). She is a great mother of two children – Becky and Sam. She took me to my first music concert, and I’m not talking classical piano here, I’m talking PHISH I’ll never forget it. Me at 13 years old sporting her old tie dye tshirt. She was the cool Aunt. I went back to Phish concerts twice when in college. She basically rocks all the way around.

1. Please give us all a brief introduction of who Mrs. Donna Rader is.

Hi, my name is Donna Rader. I was born on March 27, 1963. I live in Baltimore, Md. along with my husband Larry, daughter Becky, 3 dogs, and 1 cat.

2. Being the youngest by far amongst four siblings must have been great in some ways and tough in others. What was it like to be the baby in your family? Do you think its helped shaped you in any ways as an adult?

I am the youngest sibling, with 2 older brothers, and a sister who is the oldest. My memories of being the youngest aren’t very good. I remember being teased all the time, their favorite thing to do to me was to call me; BABY, BABY, BABY. I would scream. No Help At All!!! As an adult however, there have been great times, and then not such great times. Overall, now I am very glad to have all the support of my sister and brothers.

3. As far as I know you’ve always lived in or around the Baltimore area. (Correct me if I’m wrong!) What is your favorite thing about living in Baltimore? What do you like the least?

I was born and raised in Baltimore, Md. However, I have not always lived here. In 1983, I went to visit my brother in New Mexico after his spinal injuries. I ended up staying for about 9-10 months. In 1986, I moved to Melbourne Florida, and had a relationship with Rich Tyree, got married for the first time in 1988, and my first child was born in Feb. 1989 in Melbourne Florida. I moved back to Baltimore in 1999. The thing I like the best about Baltimore is the fact that everything is so familiar to me – friends, family, memories. The thing I dislike about Baltimore the most is the weather.

4. Being an entrepreneur and owning your own business, what’s the best thing about being self-run? What is the toughest aspect of it? AND 5. Are there any other types of businesses you’d like to start up before you retire? What would your dream career be?

I own and run my own housecleaning business, called “Cleanability”, kinda catchy don’t ya think? I started the business back in 1995 or so because I needed to be very flexible for my young children since I was a single parent. Since that time, my business has grown, and I have had several employees through the years. It has been great working for myself, and having that kind of flexibility in my life. I look back to when I worked for “Corporate America”, and I think that I could never ever work for someone else again. “NEVER”. I have become very spoiled due to working for myself.

Now please don’t get me wrong, I have worked very hard at this business. It has had it’s great times and also it’s bad times. Housecleaning has taken it’s toll on me physically. In the future, I plan on possibly increasing my clientele and hiring people to work it for me. This is something that my husband told me he has wanted me to do for a long time. Don’t know why he waited so long to tell me that!!! MEN!!!!

I am giving thought as to what I think my dream job could or would have been in life, and I think I have to say that it may have something to do with animals. I love all animals very much..

Sorry Meg, just realized I answered #5 in #4. (No problem, I put them both in!)

6. Tell me something I don’t know about my wonderful Aunt Donna!

Things you probably don’t know about me are: That I’ve lived in 2 other states, besides Maryland. Maybe you don’t know that I used to be a Deadhead. I love to travel. I love my dogs!!! I’m really racking my brain right now, I have no idea “what you don’t know about me”. I also like to sew, and have made most of the curtains in my house. (I didn’t know the moving bit or the sewing part! I love that you were a Deadhead.)

7. Finally, what are your top two greatest memories thus far in your life? Why?

Last but not Least!!!! One of my favorite memories is of visiting Hawaii in April 1999. It is the most beautiful place on this planet, (in my opionon). Larry and I had the best time there on our honeymoon. Other great memories, hhmmm thinking!!!!! Here’s one!! June 2007, Becky graduated from High School, that was a really accomplishment for her, so it made me feel elated to see her accomplish that. In life, I’ve had many, many good memories. Too many to list probably. I look forward to making more lasting memories throughout the years to come. Who knows what they may be.

(She makes me proud to have an Aunt like her. )

Related posts:

1. “Interview with Fam” Series – Sir John (aka Grampy) A few notes on my Grampy before I start this...
2. “Interview with Fam” Series – Judy Vennes (aka Momma) My mom. She is an incredible woman who has taken...
3. “Interview with Fam” Series – Granpa Harry Here’s an idea I’ve been mulling around for a while....

Related posts brought to you by Yet Another Related Posts Plugin.

She writes:

“The End of Month Collection Cloud is a New Thing. I keep collecting words and phrases that sound right, savvy, delicious or outright decadent. Time to share. And I’d love to read yours…For more about this share fest, go here.”

January, for me, means the finishing of my first novel. So, I randomly (well, kind of randomly) scrolled through the 225 pages of my novel, and picked a few sentences to share with y’all. Enjoy! (You must click on words below to enlarge!)

No related posts.

Related posts brought to you by Yet Another Related Posts Plugin.

Same with the lady’s group I started back in July with the other girls.

Last night, we had “Ladies Who….Wii” night, and although the RSVP’s started strong – there were 12 people who were going to attend. By five o’clock yesterday afternoon, the numbers dwindled down to 3. Poor Jen who was hosting, she couldn’t help but feel it was indicative of how people felt towards her! Silly how we women think. It was just one of those days where people had other things come up in their lives…one’s moving this weekend and needed to finish moving boxes, another’s studying for a course, another one had a birthday party that was scheduled last minute, etc.

At first, I was disappointed because I had been working my ass off to get my novel finished by yesterday night. I worked until midnight every single evening this week, and stressed both Jock and myself out by running to the printer’s last minute yesterday. I found the cheapest guy in town, but with 225 pages and 7 copies – it still came to £47. I still have at least twenty pages left to write for the ending, but I figured I could email them those pages. At least the rest of the book was up to snuff to show off.

I handed out two copies, and the rest are still sitting in a box. But would I have worked as hard the last couple of weeks had I not had a due date? Probably not. Would I still be slowly peddling through the editing process, checking my email every five minutes? Yeah. Did this teach me how much I love getting lost in my work for hours at a time, and the biggest reward is when the time passes without you knowing? Definitely. Did I ever feel this way about acting? Nope. Do I regret giving up acting? Not right now. Will I go back to it? Yeah, probably. Performing is in me.

Nevertheless, the three of us who were there had a really amazing time chatting, playing Wii (Jen kicked my ass in bowling and tennis, but I literally punched her lights out in boxing. Yeh!). And my BMI is 22…I’m the least likely to get sick.

Having the time to consistently work towards a goal is the best gift that England and Jock have given me. And, if people don’t show up every once in a while, my knee decides to stop my running for a bit, or my readership dwindles on my blog, I’ll still make the best of it. I’ll still keep asking the universe for shit. And, as my wise sister says re: the universe and asking for stuff: “I ask for lots of things. We have an ongoing dialogue and it never ceases to make me laugh at the answers it gives. Trusting in that is the most rewarding and hardest life lesson.”

No related posts.

Related posts brought to you by Yet Another Related Posts Plugin.

It’s probably the same reason people are loving the Journey Song Don’t Stop Believing that has become popular again due to the television show Glee ) (INSERT – I have been told that the previous link doesn’t work in the states, so try this one! At least you’ll get the song, just without the video.) ….reminds us of simpler times. Reminds us when we had no doubts that our future would hold bright and amazing prospects. I might admit to still feeling that my future holds those things…so it’s no wonder I’m a sap who gets really into Don’t Stop Believing when it comes on. Like literally, if no one is watching (as in today at the office), I’ll start mouthing the lyrics really emotionally. Sometimes, my fists will clench, and I might even do a fist pump in the air. The hair might twirl around. My hips may just swing in my chair. And, if I’m at home and it comes on… and I’m alone (not to mention when Jocko’s sitting right next to me) – yeah, I could just jump on my feet and do the boogie woogie full-on. Jimminy Christmas! as Sisqo would say. (If you want to do the same, I highly recommend clicking on the link above. You won’t be sorry.) Kind of like this, but without the dance club:

But the moment I hear someone coming, regardless of whether or not they walk in, my face goes red and my heart beats a bit quicker. Because, as much as I don’t mind admitting it to the entire world on my blog – catching me in action is a whole nother kettle of fish.

But come on, you know you want to shake that booty! It’s good for the soul. Enjoy the music video.

(Side note: It’s also no surprise that Owl City’s Fireflies song is so popular right now either. People want to feel good right now. The recession, Haiti, political mess, the war…at least we have the MUSIC to keep us smiling! So, what’s your favorite feel good song? I’ll tag Mid-Atlantic English, Eileen O’Shea, 3-Bedroom Bungalow, and Lahloo Tea. And, anyone else, feel free to answer in the comments! Let’s get a good list going, and I’ll post it once we have at least twenty…yeah?!)

Related posts:

1. Divine Brown and Vampires Completely forgot about this music video I did back in...

Related posts brought to you by Yet Another Related Posts Plugin.

“Man is least himself when he talks in his own person. Give him a mask, and he will tell you the truth.” – Oscar Wilde

Heidi Montag completely changes her face through plastic surgery, and says that it makes her feel more confident, better about herself and more beautiful. She says that beauty and confidence is within and yet, she’s very grateful for being able to have had the surgery. She’s 23 years old – admittedly a bit young for such drastic measures – but old enough to make up her own mind. Out come the surgical knives, and in come the catty media to feed on her sawed off flesh. You would think she was on trial for kidnapping her natural face, and holding it for ransom. Why are we so against this adult woman changing the way she looks? What is it about morphing a face that angers us so?

Related posts:

1. Heidi Montag’s Facial Fiasco Yes, I realize there are more devastating things in the...

Related posts brought to you by Yet Another Related Posts Plugin.

I plan on writing a fully disclosed article on AND Magazine as to why I cannot fathom how a beautiful young 23-year old girl named Heidi Montag from the television show The Hills went through 10…count them, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 facial surgeries in one sitting to get her from looking like this:

to looking like this:

And still think she looks amazingly better than before. She doesn’t even look like the same person. I overdramatically plea, “What has our world come to?!”

Last night, when I read this article online and watched the video of her on People.com explaining how this is the happiest she’s ever felt about herself, I just stared with my mouth hanging open for a good ten minutes. No, literally, I think it may have been longer even. Even Katie Piper, the acid burn victim, had less facial surgeries than Heidi has had. It makes me sad that she can be so deceived…it’s her face and she can do what she wants to it, but at what cost?

Related posts:

1. Heidi Montag’s New Face – the more mature take So, since my last post on Heidi’s new face, I’ve...

Related posts brought to you by Yet Another Related Posts Plugin.