No Place Like Home....s

Hey! I'm gonna blog.

Lots of things have happened since I blogged last. Here's a one sentence synopsis: We moved to a new house, had visitors for a month, visited America, then another visitor.

To get the ol' bloggin ball a rollin again, I thought I'd do a Britland vs "The States" list. See, there were a lot of things we were looking forward to in America. Space, fountain drinks, space, food, space, oh, and friends and family... Once we got there, though, I was looking forward to some of the Britishy things I'd left behind. So here they are, all organizationally layed out for you and whatnot!

God Bless American...

* fountain drinks * road space * Mexican food * mountains *

smoke-free beaches with sunshine * boating * junk food * hot dogs

* campfires * Old Navy * friends & family * country music *

exchange-rate making everything on sale for us people who are paid in pounds *

campfires * lack of inhibition * Slurpees and SnoCones *

Reeses anything * stores that stay open past 5:00 pm * SUVs and pickups *

weaponry (pocketknives, bb guns, etc) *

Good Old Britishy...

* roundabouts * cheese * chocolate * Indian food * public transportation *

accents * politeness * wellies * rain on the conservatory roof *

markets * healthy eating * spunky old ladies * friends *

international holiday destinations * history * villages * London

* Caramel Digestives * teapots * Lush bath ballistics * footpaths * countryside *

Primark * double-decker busses * the kids saying Britishy phrases *

overall Britishy-ness *

It looked all cute and in different fonts and sizes, but then it all went away, because sometimes blogger hates me. Enjoy anyway!

Protecting Freedom. You're Welcome.

This link (at the bottom of this post) explains the whole story, but let's just say a certain 5 (or is he 6 yet?) yr. old back in America is pretty sure we ended the Revolutionary War with our move here- in the roles of American peace-making ambassadors, of course. Give it a read, it'll make ya laugh! It also puts a lot of pressure on us, I mean, we're protecting the freedom of all Americans here! (and I thought we were just enjoying the accents and fabulous cheese!)

http://allez-oop.blogspot.com/2011/03/vive-la-revolution.html

Quiz Night, Expat Edition

Not the cool pub kind. Even cooler.

I thought it might be useful to have some Q & A from real-life expats living here in Britland. I'm hoping to make a set list of questions and post answers from a different expat each month.

I've got a lot of questions I remember staying up at night thinking about before our move, and I think I broke the internet with all my millions of Britishy searches. I'll add my own questions to the list, but also want to hear from you!

So, here's the pre-quiz quiz:

What have you potential expats been Googling in hopes of insider information? What worries about your move have been keeping you up at night? What do you need to know to help you make all those life-changing decisions about your future in a country you might not have even been to yet?

Leave your questions in the comments for this post, and I'll try to include them in the quiz. If no-one has any real questions, I'll try my best to make a Q & A list of actual, useful questions, but I can't promise it won't just end up as a random list of insanity. That's just how my brain works, people!

drugged up and uterus free

Hey all! This is going to have to be a picture-free blog post, so let's all pull out our imaginations and dust them off. Good, good!

Today I'm all drugged up, slightly dizzy and nauseous, and I am 100% more uterus-less than last time I posted. That's right- I'm one of those foreigners who has come to the UK and taken full advantage of the national health care system. Now we can go home! Not really. I was planning on having this done after moving back to the US, but life likes to shake things up a bit, so I went ahead and had surgery now. The good news is I will have several weeks of free-ish time to blog. The bad news is that I might be drugged up as I blog, so good luck making sense of anything I write.

I guess today we can tell you all about the differences in health care between the UK and the US. Now, you might think health care here is free. It is in that you don't pay any co-pays, and kids get free prescriptions. I feel like a thief every time I leave the pharmacy and they just hand over a bag of drugs and wave goodbye. Even though I know it's free, I have to force myself to just take the bag and leave without feeling like I'm doing something shifty.

It's not free, though, really. You pay enough taxes to cover costs that it makes one want to start dumping tea into the harbor. That being said, national health care is turning out to be a much better plan than I had thought it would be. I think some of that might have to do with the overall attitude of Britishy Folks, though. Here in Britland, the average Joe, or maybe average Dave since we're in Essex, thinks of health care like this: "Well, what a jolly good plan. We can't have people running about without a Doctor, can we? Let's all chip in, and everyone queue up at the Surgery. (doctor's office.)" In America people think national health care sounds great, but the average Joe thinks of the plan like this: "Heck yeah the government should be paying for health care! Psch! We demand doctors and hospitals, I mean c'mon, it's our right as human beings! Pay up, government! Now, outta my way, I'm ten times sicker than you, I get to go first in line." Yes, he is grammatically incorrect, but that's what he would say. So... yes the health care system here seems to be getting the job done, but it hasn't convinced me we should do the same thing in America.

Now, being the paranoid American that I am, we were glad to see basic private health insurance was part of our benefits plan. I was pretty sure without it we would all catch random diseases and die before we could get in to see a doctor. It doesn't quite work that way, though. As far as I can tell, private health insurance in the UK is like those FastPass Tickets at Disneyland. Without it we would still be able to get in to see a doctor for regular things like sinus infections and immunizations. We would still be able to get broken bones fixed or emergency procedures done. For non-life-threatening surgeries, though, you "jump the queue". I only needed 2 weeks notice for my surgery. If I didn't have private health care, I could have waited years from what people tell me.

There are other perks, too. When I asked the nurse at the pre-op appointment what the private health insurance did, she said, "It means you get a room of your own at hospital instead of sharing one with a crackhead." Pretty much summed it up right there, I guess.

So, kids, here's what we have learned in this drug-fog ramble of a post:

*National Health Care rocks in the UK, but would crash and burn among us demanding Americans

*I no longer have a uterus.

*Private Health Insurance in the UK is just your Disneyland FastPass

*Blogging on drugs might not be as good of a plan as I originally thought.

More to come! Anything you want a slightly loopy Phyllis to fill you in on in the next few weeks? Let me know!

Remember Us?

Yeah, that's okay. It's been a while. Life got busy, then busier, then there was too much to catch you all up on, and more busy, some more procrastinating, more procrastinating, and now this snowball of excuses that could have just been summed up by saying life happens. I've been blogging to you all in my mind. You didn't see those posts? Ah, well, moving on...

I can't catch you up completely, so let's review briefly some things we've learned.

Britishy Halloween

Britishy Halloween is not the same holiday as American Halloween.

In America, our brand new country with very little frightening history, Halloween is a time when kids dress up in costumes as princesses or superheroes and everyone gives them candy. Older kids go to "haunted houses" and get startled, we carve pumpkins, go on hay rides, and we all have good clean spooky fun.

In Britland, an ancient country with a past full of druids and churches and witchcraft and starving peasants, Halloween is a time to celebrate evil and real live scariness. Not for everyone, but it has a seriousness to it I have never even considered before. Here are some examples of our experiences with this:

Cap'n Jack, our 7 yr old, goes to a Church of England Primary school. During Religious Education class one day they asked the kids to tell them some activities we might do in a church. Jimmy D and I were frantically organizing the Halloween party (the American kind of Halloween) for our church at the time, so Cap'n Jack shot his hand up and said "Halloween parties!!". I think his teacher might have passed out. After regaining consciousness, eye twitching and gripping a crucifix, she shakily but firmly said, "No. We do NOT have Halloween parties at churches."

I was going to physio (physical therapy) in October. While stretching my leg all sorts of ways I don't think it was meant to go, my eccentric elderly therapist likes to chat. The week of Halloween she asked what I'd been up to. I told her I'd been busy organizing the Halloween party at my church and told her a bit about what we had planned. (Trick-or-treating to cars in the car park, games, pie bake-off, etc.)

She looked very grim and said, "I hate Halloween." (bending my leg farther) "I think it's horrid to see the children running up to my door. It all goes back to the time when people didn't know if they were going to survive the winter, you see." (yanking my leg behind my head and over my shoulder) "They would go door to door looking for food to get them through. I don't agree with children celebrating a holiday about who's going to survive and who will die." (now ripping my leg off and throwing it out the window) "But... I buy a bag of Mars bars and just hand those out instead of telling them all this. It's just easier that way."

Ahhh, Halloween. I'll never look at you the same again. But I'll still dress up and get candy all the same, and hang on to my innocent, naive way of celebrating.

*******

Look at that face! Is that the face of pure evil or what!?

Evil clown, Scary Fairy, and under his sweatshirt is a skeleton. We had to scary up the costumes to make them Britishy Halloween costumes.

Me painting faces at the controversial church Halloween party. Admittedly, most of the boys asked for bloody scars, but still...

*********

Parental Visit!!

My parents came to visit during the last 2 weeks of November! Yay! It went by so fast! We went in to London a few times, hit the Portobello Road Market, road tripped to Bath and Wales, had Thanksgiving, went to Leeds Castle, and let my Dad try driving on the left side of the road from the right side of the car. It was pretty freezing while they were here, and there's not much daylight this time of year to sight see by, but it was fun anyway! The kids had fun seeing Granny V and Grampa T. They hadn't seen Sunshine in almost a year, so she was a whole new person for them to meet. She kept calling my dad Grama. He didn't seem to mind.

My Dad liked seeing England through the lives of residents, instead of just a tourist in hotels. He might have been saying this to make us feel better about the lack of sightseeing they got to do, but I guess it's true. They didn't just hit tourist spots, they went to an assembly at a Britishy school, grocery shopped at Aldi, chatted with the fishmonger at the market, and ate cheese and crackers while we watched Gavin and Stacey episodes.

Our next guests are Jimmy D's parents and 2 of his sisters in May, so our Guest Suite is available for bookings until then! Come get an authentic taste of life in the Britishy countryside. Our kids may run in to use your toilet at 6 am, but it's all part of the experience.

********

Granny V and Grampa T freezing at Stonehenge

My motley crew at Leeds Castle

Stinker's not too sure about that goose... it has shifty eyes...

**********

Thanksgiving In The Motherland

If you happen to be having Thanksgiving in Britland, make friends with someone in the US Armed Forces so you can get a turkey. Either that or be willing to pay enough for it that you won't want to eat it, because it's too valuable. This is fair enough, I guess, since turkey dinner only seems to roll out for Christmas over here, but still. Cut a foreign girl some slack! Also, you can find tinned (canned) pumpkin at Waitrose.

We filled our house with our family, 2 other American families, the missionaries from our church, my parents, and 2 Britishy families. I have 2 Britishy friends who had called their spot for Thanksgiving back in July. I don't blame them, it's the best holiday ever. You think of all the things you are thankful for, eat a ton of food, sleep, eat more food, play games or veg on the couch, and eat pie. Really, what more could you want from a holiday? They loved it!

*******

Food! Glorious food!

Elder Morrison is wondering if we're going to make him sit at the kiddie table.

**********

I'll fill you in on Christmas next post. It won't be in April either, I promise!

Proper Classy

Say it like this: Prah-pa Clossy. Then you are.

In the spirit of good blogging, I am willing to tell stories that make me look like an idiot in order to entertain you all. You're welcome. This story is set in classy Cornwall.... (cue flashback wavy lines and harps...)

Phyllis and the Cream Tea

Whilst on holiday in Cornwall, I decided it was high time I sat down to a proper English Cream Tea. Finding a cafe advertising said tea, I went in. When I made it to the front of the queue, the cashier lady was down the counter at the till with the previous customer, so I waited patiently like a good British Folk should for her to return. A man behind the counter was in the middle of scooping ice-cream into a blender, when he suddenly looked up and said "You all right there?" That usually equates to "How are you?" or a similar greeting, but the way he said it was more demanding, like I was doing something weird that needed to be addressed. "Yep. Just waiting for my turn to order." "Well?" the man asks impatiently. I guess I was supposed to have assumed that he meant to multi-task by taking my order while he scooped and blended, even though he hadn't said anything or even looked up at me yet.

I ordered the boys some ice cream and a cream tea for myself. I pointed to a row of boxes of tea on display and asked if these were the flavors of tea I could choose from. (They were boxes there for purchase, like, buy the whole box, not these are the flavors we have today. I assumed they were the options I had, the question was more rhetorical.) He stared at me blank-faced for a second then said in a very slow and careful way, "The tea comes with scones, and jam and clotted cream to put on the scones." "Great...(?)" I said, nodding. Then he pointed to the boxes of tea and said, "Which kind of tea would you like? The kinds we have are just over there" (pointing to the boxes I had just asked about.) I refrained from rolling my eyes and shaking my head, picked some tea, and sat down.

I told Jimmy D about the tea man and how he was treating me like I was a very stupid person who didn't understand English. The tea man kept glancing over at me like I was a phenomenon beyond his comprehension. Not in a good way, either. I could understand that if I had actually done something stupid, but I hadn't, so I was kind of bugged. He brought over the tea and scones, and on the saucer was a tiny, light brown sugar cube. I hadn't seen a brown sugar cube before, but assumed it was something trendy or organic or whatnot, dropped it into my teacup, then poured my tea over it. The man, who had been watching me closely from behind the counter in a suspicious way, came over to me and said (loudly) "That's not sugar. That's fudge. I can bring you some sugar if you'd like."

Crap!!!! I wasn't supposed to give him a valid reason to assume I was just another stupid American tourist! Darn you pretentious tea man!!! Why couldn't you have just let me sip my fudgy tea in ignorant bliss! Sigh.

"Oh... well.... no thanks..." I said, fishing my fudge out of my teacup as the entire cafe looked on.

There you go. Proper Classy.

(Note the look of deep concentration on my face. I had to be sure not to do something else to further discredit myself, like spreading jam on my teacup or eating the cream with a spoon or anything.)

Cornucopia O' British-y Fun

Remember me? No? Well, my fault, I guess. I'll hopefully be a better bloggy-pal now since the boys are back in school (woo-hoooo!) but I was looking over another blog of mine and realizing I've made these empty promises before, so I won't fill this one full of well-intentioned lies, too. I have a lot to tell you, so instead of make a long post about one event and then make more empty promises to post about the rest, how about a Cornucopia O' Britishy Fun? Alright then.

*We went on a family vacation to Cornwall. It was rainy a lot and kind of chilly for the beach, but we expected that, so it was still buckets of fun. Buckets. On the beach just down the road from where we were staying they had a contest I've never seen before. No, no, before you even go there, everyone was fully clothed. Come back to me now... out of the gutter... there. They had about 30 numbered stakes in the sand along the shore. Groups of about 4-8-ish people each had around 45 minutes to build a giant sand pile by their stake, and then everyone from the group had to stand on top of it. Then you wait. And wait. Eventually the tide comes in, and if anyone from your sand mound gets wet, your group is out. Last ones standing win. It was about as exciting as it sounds.... "C'mon, Liam, dig faster!" "Go on, Gav, pat that sand down 'round the sides there!" "Here comes one! Oh! 'Bout got yer foot there, eh?" Really, though, it was a great example of Britishy competition. Americans would be too easily bored and give up after the first hour...or two... or three... but the Britishy Folks are amazingly patient and awesome and like their slow-paced fun times. Even when we gave up after a few hours, there were still about 10 groups standing and a whole crowd of eager sand...mound..standing..(?) fans there cheering them on. I love it.

About 2 hrs into the contest:

...and now about 3 hrs in...

*Another Cornwall highlight was Kynance Cove. It's like the Disneyland of beaches, and we had a blast. You have to hike down some cliffs to get there, and it's only there at low tide. Since the sand spends half the time underwater, it is perfect for sand castles. The tide leaves little kiddie-sized pools in the sand behind the big rocks, and the ocean-although freakin' freezin'- has good boogie-boarding waves. You can buy wet-suits, sand toys, and boogie boards in the beach shop, and the whole place is just amazingly beautiful. If you are in Cornwall, go there. Or else. (fist shaking)

*Moving on from our "holiday", Cap'n Jack (our 7-yr old) had a whole day of Culture-Training. (shaking head sadly.) He now is filled with such vital information as the fact that Britishy Folks like to talk about the weather, don't embrace change, and are often found waiting in queues. I don't know how he could have survived life here without that amazing 7 hour course. JimmyD had to do his business-y Culture Training at work, but we weaseled out of the whole Saturday they had scheduled for the entire family session. It would have been a great thing if they had bothered to do it before we moved here, or even within the first month... or two... or three of getting here. So the moral of the story? If they offer you culture training, get them to do it before you go or right after you arrive, or else just laugh at them and tell them you "couldn't be bothered" to do the course, thus showing your Britishy culture skills in your diss.

*The TV Licensing people are after us. We haven't gotten a license since we don't watch live TV, so they keep sending us threatening letters. We might have to get one, I don't really know. They have threatened a few times now to stop by and inspect our TV setup, and I really wish they would, so we would know once and for all if we really have to get the license. (Our TV is hooked up to a computer with all our TV shows, movies, and music on it. I don't know if we could get live TV on our setup.) On the plus side, it makes me feel all edgy and wild to be evading the TV police.

*Stinker has officially decided to refer to tomatoes as to-mah-toes. It was a long and well-thought out decision on his part, and he seems to be pleased with the course he has chosen. He also now refers to "having a turn" as "having a go". Like this: "Mom, can I have a go on the Wii now?"

*Here's a brief overview on shops (stores to us Americans):

-Boots sells beauty products and medicines, not... well... boots.

-Aldi has super-kick-butt-awesome prices on food. Go there.

-Go to the Market (market stalls, sometimes everyday, sometimes weekends, depending on where you live) for your butcher, cheese, and produce.

-Next has such cute little tiny girl clothes and shoes that it is dangerous, but in a good way.

-Marks and Spencers is pricey and posh, but has good quality and inexpensive school uniforms.

-Lush is... well... lush. Ahhh, the hippie-meets-valley-girl goodness of that bath and body store is heavenly.

-Sainsbury's has everything, like a Super Wal-Mart or Super-Target, but not at the same low prices. You can find deals on things like clothes or home supply stuff, but not really on food.

-Argos has what you need for your home and toys for the kids, and my kids can be entertained for hours looking through their ginormous catalogue. Once they are done looking at it you can use it as their booster-seat at the table.

Well, time to pretend to help as JimmyD gets the kids into bed. What? No, I mean... time to get them in bed. I hope the uber-random post I've just given you will fill the void I've left his last month or so, and I plan on doing smaller posts more often. Oh, I did it, there's a potentially empty promise. At least know, if it goes unfulfilled, that I have every intention of keeping it right now. Life (and amazingly slow internet connections) just get in the way sometimes. Until next time, may your oversized car fit into the tiny parking spaces of the Britishy world.

Settled In

I've been thinking a lot lately about what seems normal, what seems weird, what is still cool, and what I'm used to about being all Britishy. (Did you follow that? No? It's cool- read on.) We've lived here about 3 months now- and we've had our stuff for a little over half that time. We are now... officially... settled!

For the first month or so after arrival, people's favorite question was "Are you settling in alright?" The answer then was "No, because I'm sleeping on the floor and cooking with less stuff than you take camping." It took a while, even after getting our belongings... and unpacking and assembling all the Ikea furniture... to feel settled. I guess for all you future expats, here's what we found needed to happen (besides having our stuff) before we felt settled:

- Getting financial things set up.
This meant bank account here, transferring money home, reimbursements for our moving expenses all sorted out, setting up bill-pay for utilities, (well, first figuring out what utilities there were to set up), getting checks, figuring out how to write them, getting our debit cards, figuring out how to use them, etc. There are a million of things like that to get all set up and arranged. Even getting used to the new appearance of cash takes a while before it feels natural.

-Getting the kids in school and a routine.
This involved researching and visiting local schools, applying to the county school board, waiting, waiting more, meeting new teachers, getting uniforms figured out, and getting Stinker used to even attending school at all. He was only in pre-school at home three mornings a week, and here he's all-day real school. He did pretty well. Even after getting all the official things figured out, there are still new habits to form- where to leave backpacks and homework so we can find them, when to do homework, what to do in the morning vs. in the night to get ready.... all those things. We figured them all out just in time for school to let out for the summer.

-Meeting people.
No matter how outgoing and friendly you are, you can only remember so many names and info about people in the first few weeks. Some people can remember all that easily, but for me it took three... or four... or more times of hearing or asking some names before I really knew them. You need to know people's sense of humor, attitudes, etc. before you can really feel comfortable chatting with them. Even if you put forth a huge effort, you just have to hang around people for a while before you feel like they are not a new person to you. And then you have to hope that they aren't scared off by your vast amounts of crazy. Maybe that's just me, though... ; ) I was also busy worrying about the kids... and JimmyD... hoping they were getting to know people, too.

- Feeling like everyday things are familiar.
Roads, stores, pubs(restaurants), what food is at the grocery store, how your appliances work.... Whenever you move to a new place there are a few things that you have to get used to. In a new country, it sometimes seems like everything is just different enough to throw you off. Road signs are different, shopping carts are different (they move sideways like at Ikea and you have to pay to unchain them! You get your money back when you return it.) how and where you go out to eat are different. I can go to the store now without having to really concentrate. I swear I'm not a blonde. It's harder than you'd think!

-Language.
Now, I know that in England they speak the same language as we do in America, but they really don't. I felt extremely handicapped when I tried to speak. It's not just that some words are different- the phrasing is different, too. Then there are the times when a word or phrase that I know, but just don't usually use, is what's normal here. Confused? Here, I'll show you. An American would say "Just park by the curb while I run into the store real quick for some milk." Or at least a Rednecked American. A Britishy person might say, "If you'll just wait by the kerb to stop us getting towed, I'll pop into the shop for some milk." This is actually kind of a fun game. Let's try another one. Hmmm.... A Rednecked American out to eat with a kid throwing a tantrum would say, "Kid, if you don't knock it off right now you'll be sittin' in the truck while we eat." A Britishy person out to eat wouldn't have a child throwing a tantrum, but if they did, they might say "Thomas, let's not have a strop in the middle of the pub. I shouldn't like to have to put you in the Mini whist the rest of us all sit comfortably indoors to eat our supper. There's a good lad." The point of all this was: it takes a while before you feel like you can talk without sounding like an idiot. Then there's the whole accent thing. It threw me at first, but now I kind of forget that people have an accent. I forget that I'm the one with the accent, I guess. I'm always a little surprised when people on the phone know who I am before I say my name, but then I remember that I have a crazy American accent giving me away.

Things now are just about right. I don't feel so out of place that I have to figure out everything I do or say all day long. I do still notice the differences enough to feel like I'm on an adventure. Jimmy D and I still say to each other, "Hey- guess what? We live in England. Weird!"


PS- We dicided to take a long weekend holiday to Edinburgh, Scotland and a week holiday to Cornwall here in England. We'll fill you in on those as they happen.

Re-living the Revolution

Ahhh, Happy 4th of July. It's got to be one of my favorite holidays. I mean, c'mon- grilled food, cold beverages, and exploding glitter in the sky. Pretty awesome. It's too good to miss, even if we happen to now live in the country we are celebrating our independence from...so we had a

4TH OF JULY BBQ EXTRAVAGANZA!!!!!

It began with having a few American families we know over for a BBQ, then we added the missionaries, since they are American, and we thought their moms would be happy to know they are being taken care of. Next came some British friends who are American-ish (fans of America or lived there once.) Then we added the kids from our Sunday School class and their families, and some friends from the kids' school, and some neighbors, and more church friends.... and they (almost) all came!! That was the crazy part for us. Jimmy D and I seem to have amazingly lame parties at home where no-one shows up. I guess people here are still just wondering what we will do next, so curiosity alone compels them.

We grilled up a storm. Jimmy D donned his Father's Day BBQ tool belt and rocked the grill. I made rib glaze, chicken glaze, grilled corn, jell-o (well, jelly here) jigglers in star shapes, brownies, and berry pies. We made sure to have a cooler full of icy sodas, and some rednecked country music blaring through the yard. (er, garden.) And, of course we hung our American flag up outside. It was just like being at home. One of our American friends settled in by the speakers blarin' some Tim McGraw and Garth and whatnot, and relaxed in the comforting, hillbilly bliss of an American party. She kept saying, "Ahhhh. This is just like being in a backyard at home!"

As long as we had an ample supply of British Folks, we thought we'd re-enact the Revolutionary War. Not with bayonets and stuff. Don't worry. We had an American vs. British tug-of-war! The British children beat the American kids... twice.... but the American adults, after prying the English men away from the World Cup game, managed to dominate the tug-of-war. I felt so very patriotic.

We also worked in some jump-rope in the street. The missionaries can jump rope like nobody's business. I wonder if the power of their jump-roping skills alone would be enough to convert hundreds. They should go on some kind of jump-roping tour and see how it goes. They could do jump-rope chants about the Gospel whilst they jump and twirl. "Nephi, Nephi, goin' to get the plates. Beaten with a stick but didn't complain...." maybe? or... "Where did you come from, what's the meaning of life? Find out if you can jump to twenty-five!" Okay. Maybe not.

Back from the uber-random tangent and churchy links...

We ended the evening o' fun with a fireworks display... on TV. It was still pretty sweet, plus hey- no traffic on the way home!

Here are some pictures of the fun times. I only got the beginning and the end, so I'll have to ask people to email pics of the tug-of-war and jump-rope. But just trust me- they were awesome.

You know how corn on the cob is usually in a husk, and the mess it makes is...well.. a pile of empty husks? Here I could only find it packaged, so here is the mess as I prepared it:

Jimmy D grillin'

The smorgasbord of delight. Notice how happy the Americans look? Ahhh, 4th of July.

Here's the crowd for the firework display. They're soooo excited!!!

Well, friends, there ya go. I know I've been a slacking blogger the past few weeks, so to make it up to you, I'll do a post a day through Friday. Oh-yeah. Just wait. It'll be more fun than a barrel of acrobatic monkeys.

British-ness

Here is a news story I ran across on yahoo today. Enjoy!

http://uk.news.yahoo.com/21/20100616/thl-you-re-dead-cancer-patient-told-d831572.html

It is just so British it kills me. (In a hilarious way.) Not the situation itself, but the way it was handled and played out. Notice how polite and calm they were? And how the operator wouldn't be budged from protocal, but calmly and matter-of-fact-ly told the man he was dead? I love it.

The Super-Kick-Butt-Awesome, Very Good (British) Day

This post can be the yin to the last post's yang. (?) We had a great weekend, and so we thought we'd post about that and a few more of our good times. Our "brilliant" times.

A week-ish ago we thought we'd give the boys a break from all the errands and boringness, and went to a carnival. Or, here in Britland, a "Fun Fayre". There's that "y" again, jumping on in to all sorts of words. Here's a pic or two. Cap'n Jack's favorite was the bumper cars, or "dodge'ms", I think they called them, and Stinker liked the trampoline-bungee cord fun.

This weekend we went into London. There were some more car-related detours along the way, but they went much better than the last ones. We drove Jimmy D's car to the dealership to pick up my car. Then we left both cars there, making extra sure that they would not be sold or locked behind a gate when we returned, and took a double decker bus (!!!) to the train station. Except... we needed to be at the underground station instead. So, back onto another double decker for a 30 minute ride through town to the tube station. I was a little worried the kids would be frustrated at the long ride, but I guess riding on a double decker bus never gets old. I had fun people watching. I love the variety of people you find here. The closer you get to London, the more languages and accents you hear everywhere. I love how no matter where a person comes from, we're all really the same. This seems to be especially true about parents with their kids. You can see a woman in a hijab (the head scarves Arabic women wear) telling her toddler they aren't going to buy the candy today, a dad speaking Chinese (maybe) putting his baby's hat on his own head to get him to smile, or someone with a French accent picking up his kid's socks and shoes after the kid had bolted to the sandbox. Also interesting: there are British rednecks, and we found British oh-no-you-didn't z-snappin' ladies at McDonalds.

Back to our trip- we saw Big Ben, Westminster Abbey, and Buckingham Palace. One tower we passed was almost 1000 years old, and had a moat. It was the tower where some king stored his jewels and stuff. Yeah, aren't we educated? Who cares- it had a real moat!! We also wandered through some great parks along the way. The British Folks are serious about their "green spaces". We had promised Stinker a Happy Meal, so we trekked halfway across London to get to a very crowded McDonalds. I told him to enjoy it, because McDonalds really isn't worth that kind of trek. Or, in my opinion, any trek. When it was all over, I asked the boys what their favorite part of the day was. They both said riding the double decker bus and the tube. Here are some pictures from that day's adventure:

At a tube station, Cap'n Jack pulled out his camera to take a picture of two Bobbies. They were very nice and let the boys wear their hats for a picture, too.

Eating overpriced ice-cream cones at Westminster Abbey.

This poor guard's hat tipped over his eye during some marching, and he can't move to fix it! I kind of feel sorry for him, but mostly just enjoy mocking him.

Buckingham Palace, as seen from (maybe?) St. James Park.

Well, there you have it. Half-term holiday (I feel so Britishy saying that!) is next week, so we plan on having more fun trips to fill the gaping hole left from no school. I am also adding Jimmy D as an author to the blog, so be sure to watch for his posts. I'll try to change my blogger account name to Phyllis so you know who is posting. Right now it's Peanut Gallery, so if you see that, it's me- Phyllis. (And Phyllis is really me.)

Ups and Downs...and repeat

So, SOMEONE left my laptop on the plane...coughJimmyDcough...so I keep having things happen that are blog-worthy, but no computer to blog with. So, here's the overview, and I'll possibly...or not... get more details in if and when I ever have a computer again.


The days here so far have been rollercoasterific. Just the last few days alone have been...well, I have no words. That tells you something.

Here's the highlights for ya:


* Our air shipment had been delayed a few days, but finally arrived today. Our sea shipment, however, will most likely not arrive to our house until (maybe) the first week of June- not next Monday like we had been originally told. So on the upside: I had a wonderful time unpacking the dishes I sent. It was like Christmas. I have never loved a 9 x 13 pan or a pot more. Sigh. However on the downside: if I had known our air shipment would need to hold us for a month and not a week, I might have packed more wisely. Back to the upside: if they are giving us a date of arrival at all, I have to hope that means our sea shipment is not on the ocean floor...yet.

* Our house is amazing, and I love it. However... it probably has an oil leak. It has reeked of a garage since we moved in, but we were told that it was because of a new boiler being installed and would fade as we used the heating. It hasn't faded. Today when the movers came, one of them kept saying "Wot is 'at 'orrible smell in 'ere?" "I fink it's a gas leak, it is. It's poison! Gonna make yer li-ul ones sick! "Ave the children play in the garden and call the lan'lohd!" He even made the postman "pop in and smell the 'ouse!" The postman agreed- there was a poisonous leaky smell of some kind. We did call the management company about it- the oil...boiler...guy is supposed to check it out tomorrow morning. If we wake up.....


I'm tired, so I'll give you more tomorrow. (It's late here, it's not the poisonous gasses making me tired. Maybe.) There are still a bunch of ups every day to outweigh the downs though. Here are a few of my favo(u)rites and a picture or two to end the post.

*Wandering with our little family through the footpaths into the forest.
*Making Indian food for dinner...and it was cheap and easy! Out of a jar! Wooo!
*The fields of rabbits. It's like a cartoon in some places.
*Going to the church Market Fayre up the road.
*Seeing the letter "Y" in unexpected words, like "fayre" and "tyre".
*My donut friend at the Market in town.
*All the roundabouts. Efficient and awesome.
* Hearing the boys pick up new words and phrases, like "lorry", "squash", and "biscuit".
*Looking out my window and saying "Holy crap, I'm in England!"
*All the green outside.
*The old houses on the road in our village.
*The radio station playing...well...not Miley Cyrus, for one.
*All the new things mixed into everyday life.
*Wandering through golden fields, as pictured below: (Don't worry, we didn't really wander through, just walked carefully a few feet in for a picture.)

Videos O' Britishy Fun

Jimmy D was mowing today. It was sad, and a little bit funny. And sad some more. So... I decided it needed to be recorded for you. After I recorded it, I went on a video spree. The first one is something I will call:

Stuff Here Is Tiny

(I'm too tired to be clever with the title)

It's okay, though. I have realized that the tiny things force me to use moderation. Like with the laundry- instead of dumping everything in the kids' dirty clothes basket into the washer, and then nagging them about all the clean clothes mixed in, I actually go through them (or make the kids do it) and have less wash to do in the end. Or, maybe we just end up smelling a little funny sometimes. It's cool. And with the fridge, I won't have room for moldy leftovers. Bad for science, good for me. See?

Just to be fair, I also did one that I will call:

Not Everything Here Is Tiny, Some Stuff Is Huge-ish

That video was less awesome, though, because you see both of my chins as I lay on the towel. Or really, my chin becomes my neck in a very unflattering sort of way.

The last one here I will call:

British Pantry Fun

We went to Asda today. Asda is kind of like British Wal-Mart. It is even owned by Wal-Mart. I have thought the past few days that things are more similar to home than I thought they would be, (what?) but that was before I tried a big shopping trip. Everything is just different enough to throw you off and make shopping tricky. Hamburger is mince meat, and pricey. (I think). Bacon is not bacon as I know it. If I want bacon bacon, I have to get Pork Belly Strips (or something like that- they are downstairs and I am lazy, so close enough.) Sugar isn't with the baking aisle, it's by all the tea. I don't know if they have cocoa powder- it was hiding somewhere. Mexican products are expensive and scarce. The cheese, though, makes it all worth the trouble. I see now why Wallace is always telling Grommit about it.

Also, just an update on how we're doing. We've been crazy busy getting things done. We've called to have our oil tank filled (for the boiler), gotten pay-as-you-go cell phones, set up a bank account, found Asda, applied to get the boys into school, checked on utilities, internet, garbage pickup, met people in the ward, and eaten some cheese. And donuts.

Cheeky People

This morning I had to call the rent-a-car place to let them know we wanted to drop our car off at a different location than where we will pick it up. The last day or two the amazingly large amount of tasks left on out "to-do" list, coupled with extra irritable kids, etc. has left me anxious. Even hearing the automated menu selection from the UK Enterprise location stressed me out- the British accent was a reminder of how much we have left to do, and how much we'll have to figure out when we get there. Usually it makes me think of the adventure, in a good way, that awaits us.

After being put through to a man at the airport location and asking about our car drop-off, I explained that since we were moving there and the car was to hold us over until we bought one, I wanted to know what to do if we needed to extend our rental a few days. Then, bless his cheeky heart, he laughed and said, "You're moving to England! Now, why would you want to do that? Move all the way over here?" I told him he was sounding like my mother-in-law, and he laughed again and said, "I'm sure I am! (and then continuing on in what he thought might be an impression of what she would be saying) Moving all the way to England! Don't you know how dark and rainy it is there every day? Why would you want to go and do a thing like that?"

I felt better. There's nothing like a cheeky British person to remind me how much fun we'll have moving there. Here in the U.S. (especially here in Utah) everyone seems to have zero ability to understand sarcasm. Sarcasm is usually met with confusion. The only people who would banter with me in the U.S. instead of remaining very serious are my family, so the British Folks have already won me over there. Here are a few more of my encounters with The Cheeky for you to enjoy:

When we landed in London for our house-hunting trip, we had to fill out a card with our information to present at the booth where they check our passports. In the space for occupation, I had put "Super Mom". We filled the cards out on the plane, and by the time we were at the booth at the airport, I had forgotten what I had put. The lady at the booth looked over my card, and then got a half smile on her face, which she quickly turned back serious as she said, "Super Mom, eh? Maybe I shouldn't let you in after all. You might show the rest of us regular mums up, and then where would we be?" Now, if someone here in Utah had read that, they most likely would have looked confused and then asked me if that was some sort of day-care business I had started or something. Five bonus awesome points for the cheeky British Folks.

Later on our trip I went in to a Forever 21-ish style store to buy an umbrella. British Folks "queue" into one line, and then go from the front of the line to the next available register. From where I was standing, I could see a few younger girls and one older, white-haired, pot-bellied, bearded man behind the counter. I assumed he was the manager or something. When I got to the front of the line, no-one seemed to be across the counter from him, so when he glanced over I raised my eyebrows at him in an "Is it my turn?" look. I did this again with a head nod ('sup style head nod) and then asked, "Am I next?" He laughed and said, "Not unless you want your electricity worked on!" He was there working on a broken register. The girls behind the counter stifled their laughs. He then said with a twinkle in his eye, "The way you were looking at me I though you were going to ask me to coffee!"

I'm sure I'll have more stories as I go, don't worry.

So, I guess if I am ever feeling overwhelmed and anxious during the move, I just need to call England and wait for a cheeky person to cheer me up. God bless those cheeky British Folks!

Language barrier

I went downstairs to see if Jimmy D was ready for bed, and he is busy trying to hack our new GPS. That reminded me of how the Britishy Folks call their GPS a "SatNav". So, while Jimmy D continues trying to beat the system, I'll make a post about how to speak British...y. I'll put a link to this post over there --------> on the sidebar where you can check out any updates as I learn or remember new translations for you. These will be ones we actually hear people use, not ones we found online and assume are really used. American will be first, listed in RED. Britishy will be second, listed in BLUE. I'll also list times when a synonym of a word we use is more commonly used over in British-land.

• GPS is a SatNav. Example: I turned into the river because my SatNav told me to.
• odds and ends are bits and bobs. Example: You have storage here for all your bits and bobs.
• a closet is a fitted wardrobe. Example: You are very lucky indeed to have a home with fitted wardrobes, aren't you!
• hard is replaced with difficult. Example: It is difficult to not get hit by a bus at a double roundabout.
• restroom is replaced with toilet. Example: Excuse me, where might I find the ladies' toilets?
• Take-out is called takeaway. Example: I'll have that toastie for takeaway, please. *Note- if you order your food at a restaurant to eat-in, you are charged VAT (value-added tax). You are not charged this if you order your food for takeaway.
• A hot or grilled sandwich is a toastie. Example: I would like a refund- I've found a hair in my toastie.
• Elementary school (ages 4-11) is called primary school. Example: My child couldn't get a spot in that oversubscribed primary school.
• Keds-type-shoes are plimsolls. Example: Might I have these pirate plimsolls, Mum?
• A line is a queue. Example: I waited in the queue for hours before it was my turn for the toilets.
• An underground parking garage or parking lot is called a car park. Example: our people carrier nicked some mirrors in the car park.
• A minivan is called a people carrier. Example: I look super-cool driving down the road in my people carrier.
• Stopping by is called popping in, or pop on over, etc. Example: If you'll just pop back in later, we can give you some forms to fill out.
• The ER (Emergency Room) is called the A & E (Accident and Emergency). Example: If you should happen to lose an appendage of some kind, just pop on over to the A & E and they'll see to it.
• A vacation is called a holiday. Example: What are we going to do to fill the time during half-term holiday?!
• Asking your name is replaced with asking what you are called. Example: What is your younger boy called? No, not the one with the pirate hat, the one with the ketchup moustache.
• Miracle Whip is salad cream. Example: With its tangy zip and a third less fat than mayonaise, a sandwich isn't a sandwich without Salad Cream.

I can't for the life of me get the colors to work today, so just know American words listed first, followed by Britishy translations.

• Cell Phone is Mobile (say it Mow-bile). Example: Could you text me on my new mobile number the name of the shop where you discovered they sell Miracle Whip?
• Pants are trousers. Very important distinction, just ask my kids. Example: Those are exceptionally tight trousers you're wearing! No... they don't make you look any less manly...
• Underwear is Pants for Boys, Knickers for girls. (Do you see why the above word replacement is important? It could get awkward if you said "pants" instead of "trousers in the above example, eh?) Example: Mum, I haven't got any clean pants to wear, and no, I won't just turn these inside out, I've got P.E. today!!!
• Jar is Pot. Sometimes. Example: My daughter has eaten about half the pot of Calamine Cream.
• Truck is Lorry. Example: Getting stuck behind a lorry in the construction on the M 25 is rotten.

I'm the Redneck American

...but what else do you expect? Really? I have now lived in Payson, Utah longer than any other place my whole life. It's gotta have an effect on a girl, ya know?

Jimmy D filled me in on my Redneck status after our conference call with Naven, our house-finding guy. See if you can find the mistake...

Naven: Are you quite set on two bathrooms, or would one bathroom and a WC do..
Phyllis (me, remember?): Well, the reason we want two bathrooms is mostly because we have two little boys who pee all over the place, so it's nice to have a toilet of your own."
Naven: (shocked laugh) So I guess that means no carpet in the bathrooms then?

So, did you spot it? Good work. Specifically it was the phrase "boys who pee all over the place" that gave me away as a Redneck American.

This being proper business is going to be tricky for me.
I'll either have to learn to lose some shock value and be nice and proper, or there will be a trail of shocked British Folks scattered in my wake.

Sigh.

Get ready for the trail of shocked Britons.

I Hear British People, Step In Time...

Okay, so I will not add "Step In Time" after each blog title, but that is what you should mentally add, because it is what chimney sweeps do, and you should always follow the example of chimney-sweeps with such vocal and rhythmic capabilities.

So, now,

On March 18th we are going on a house-hunting trip to London. There are several suburb-y areas I am interested in, but I think I've learned about all you can learn from the internet about these places. In light of this, I thought it might be a good idea to call some British Folks.

I was looking for someone from my church to contact. For those who are not familiar with being Mormon, it's kind of like you know people all over the world, all you have to do is introduce yourself and say you want to move into their ward. (Congregation.) I was hoping for a specific number for the Bishop or at least for a person, but wound up getting only meetinghouse numbers from the church website. This usually equates to a phone in the hall at the church, and could be answered by an adult, a child, a wandering hobo, etc. So...

After calling the number, realizing I probably needed some kind of country code, getting it, trying again, realizing I probably needed some kind of international calling plan enabled on my phone, getting that, calling again, realizing I had to drop the first "0" from the number, and then calling again a few times, I got through to a meetinghouse. Yay! I ended up getting through to a few meetinghouses and getting numbers for helpful ward members. I have to say, British people are incredibly supernaturally polite from what I can tell so far. That is very convenient if you are the random American calling strangers for information. Even the Young Woman's age girl who answered in one of the meetinghouses was so polite that I couldn't tell if she was an adult or not until she (politely) asked "Would it perhaps be helpful if I went and got one of my Young Women leaders for you?" I'm pretty sure if they call an American meetinghouse it would be more like "Uhh, are you really British? Say something from Monty Python." (That's what I would say at least...) Also, I knew they would have British accents, but it still made me want to giggle a little bit while they talked. Don't worry, I didn't.

All in all, randomly calling hallway phones of British meetinghouses was a useful and fun experience. I am excitied to meet some of my polite British phone friends when we go to visit