March 12, 2007

Elizabeth Hurly

...did not invite me to her wedding. I didn't really
expected an invitation, seeing as I've never met her,
but while living here I've developed a smallish Mom
Crush on Hugh Grant and it would have been nice to
have seen him in a tux. Liz got married in
Winchcombe, a nearby village (she lives in the
Cotswolds) and it was all everyone could talk about,
the traffic, the road closures, who they knew who was
invited. Blah, blah, blah. Secretly I loved this as
I became a local, however briefly, and was able to
lament about the traffic and influx of celebrities
although it didn't affect me one bit. I did, however,
see one of Liz's centerpieces as a woman I know is a
wedding/event planner at Sudeley Castle where Liz's
wedding took place. The centerpiece was stunning.
Obviously, budget was not really an issue.
I have begun the arduous task of house hunting in
England (looking, in fact, in Winchcombe). We need
bigger digs. Giving "The Bickersons" (Michael and
Ryan), who share the tiny fourth floor room, more
space just may add years to all of our lives. In one
of my more charming moments, I gushed to our landlord
that because I thought he was SUCH a great landlord,
I'd ALLOW him to buy us a bigger house. He, as you
would expect, thought I was insane. I asked him to
take a few days and just mull it over. Sure enough,
three days later he called and was actually thrilled
to buy us a bigger house. I've viewed 17th century
stone cottages, Victorian Cotswold stone cottages,
Regency terraced houses, thatched roof cottages as
well as more modern homes. If there is one thing I've
learned from all all this, it's that the English have
quite a penchant for red and/or orange sculpted
carpet.
The kids continue to do well in school. Michael and
Siobhan did very well with their mock Common Entrance
Exams (earning the top marks in the entire class for
history and English, respectively). Michael
inadvertently called me, "sir" the other day. Was I
impressed! Not only was this a telling sign that he
is a polite chap in school, but, on a personal level,
I found this a considerable step up from the Darth
Vader theme song that he usually hums when I walk into
the room.
Ryan is feeling a bit better about his role in
Shakespeare's A Mid-Summer's Night Dream. He found
out that his role is actually a man who PLAYS a woman.
So he'll wear a fake beard AND wear a dress. Somehow
the fake beard makes the whole girl-role more
palatable. He also has to wear a wig, so, I assume,
he'll have lice again before the week is out.
I loved seeing my high school friend, Cindy, last
week. She marveled at how the big kids morphed into
slaves who cleared the table, washed, dried and put
away the dishes as well as put their younger brother
to bed. All the while we sat around. Cindy, a
fashion designer, is tiny. Siobhan was not shy about
holding Cindy accountable for her promise of
hand-me-downs. Cindy had just traveled from Seattle,
to Paris to London to Cheltenham and here was Siobhan
pressing her for freebies. I suppose if I fit in
Cindy's clothes, I'd do the same thing...
Aidan is having his friend, Tilly, over this
afternoon. Having forgotten the buying-of-the-juice
ritual, I am a bit panicky. Aidan wants everything to
be perfect (he insists we bake cookies). He adores
Tilly. He describes her as having "golden curls"
although she has the same white, wispy hair that he
has, only longer. This morning, I ask that he not show
off when Tilly arrived. He asked what showing off
meant. I explained (using examples such as not
throwing toys, not running around screaming, not
making every toy car or train crash with such force it
becomes a hazard, etc.) and he looked up at me,
crushed and said, "But Mom, I like showing off".
But, enough about us. How are YOU doing?
Love,
T-Ann

February 28, 2007

Dear all,

I'm back to my computer after a hiatus spent shaking
off the flu. No flu is fun and this one, with its
insomnia, was particularly trying. Aidan, Ryan and I
had it all at once. One night, I staggered from
Aidan's room praying he'd sleep when I spotted a
figure in the dark, crouched on the stairs leading up
to Michael and Ryan's room. I screamed and lurched
backwards, throwing myself directly onto the red hot
radiator. I then started shrieking and was joined by
Ryan who was now screaming as well, (probably because
his mom looked like one of the three stooges)
(apparently HE was the figure crouched on the
stairs...) So everyone in the house is awake, blood
pumping. And so it went for days.... in a sleep
deprived state I cut my hair even shorter (am I trying
to get it to evolve off?). I now look like my mom,
which isn't necessarily a bad thing, I guess, its just
that THAT wasn't quite the look I was going for.
The second half of my hiatus was spent truly enjoying
myself. Our dear friends back home, Wes and Ellen
Ley, (interesting fact: Ellen's maiden name was May.
How I wish she had hyphenated...) sent their
beautiful daughter, Virginia, to visit us for a week.
My eyes welled up when she walked in the door! At
nearly 16 she had grown up so much in a year. I loved
my time with her: shopping, painting and doing
touristy things like trying to drive on the English
roads in the snow. What a good sport she was, too, as
not one, but TWO of her days were snow days!
Impossible, but, yes. Snow.
In the midst of all the snow, Jim and I had
reservations at a lovely restaurant nearby. It was
the LAST thing in the world I wanted to do: dress up
and slush through the snow. Jim would hear nothing of
rescheduling. He had arranged to have drinks before
hand with friends at their home. I grumbled all the
way to the Mitchell's, through the snow, wondering
aloud (and not in a particularly loving way) why Jim
had agreed to stop by for a quick drink. To drink and
run: so rude. Was I stunned when I realized I had
walked into my surprise birthday party! You don't
know what good liars your friends are until they lure
you into a surprise party. It was wonderful and just
what the doctor ordered to cure my crankiness. I am
blessed to have made such good friends in the short
time we've been here. I am blessed, too, to have such
a patient husband!
The following week we took the kids to Brussels,
Bruges and Paris for their half term break. I highly
recommend Paris for a 40th birthday. While the
weather didn't cooperate, we had a great time and I
had the added pleasure of inadvertantly being treated
kindly by the Parisians, several of whom mistook me
for being French (must be the chic, European hair).
We were nearly crushed in the Louvre while viewing the
Mona Lisa (someone needed to tell a particular
nationality of slight but pushy, camera wielding
tourists that they weren't attending a Who concert).
The wind and rain dampened our Eiffel Tower experience
just a bit. We got out of the cab, walked under the
Eiffel Tower, a process that takes about 70 seconds,
when Michael says with his dry sense of humor, "Well.
We've done that. Can we get back in the cab, now?"
Quick thinking, I suggest tea at the Ritz. Sadly,
without reservations (or a pedigree) the Pierces were
not welcome. We were directed to the nearest
Starbucks.
That evening, just when I thought all the excitement
of the day was over, Jim suggested that he and I go
down to our hotel bar for a celebratory drink. Of
course, I couldn't forgive myself if something
happened to the kids alone in a hotel room so they
came with us. Jim muttered something about having too
many children all the way down to the bar where he
went to order drinks. I secured a booth out in the
completely empty hallway. The kids could play all
evening without disturbing anyone. Perfect. Jim
returns with the drinks, sits down and immediately,
Aidan screams somewhere down the hallway. His
brothers-who-should-have-known-better were at the top
of an escalator. Aidan had jumped on the escalator
alone and tumbled. Thankfully, Siobhan jumped on
after him and she broke his fall, but he needed to be
taken to the hospital to get stitched back up. The
hospital was NASTY (second only to the doctor I saw
when I got a bladder infection once while vacationing
in Barbados back in the early nineties. As I sat with
pigeons in the waiting room, the doctor came out
without a shirt or shoes with what I could only hope
was mud smeared across his belly). The ambiance at
the hospital included a cell like waiting room, men
being brought in and out wearing handcuffs, lots of
shouting and a guy, hooked up to an IV who shuffled in
occasionally (we were there for nearly four hours) to
bum cigarettes from other trauma patients. Aidan was
brave and is good as new.
The children were admirably daring their food choices
throughout the vacation. No creature great or small
was safe from Michael it seemed: he ate horse (a bit
tough-Aidan chewed a small piece for 10 minutes before
we had him spit it out), snails, mussels, rabbit and
frog legs. My personal favorite was the Belgian
waffles which are made from dough, not batter.
Divine.
We are all doing quite well. Michael and Ryan were
asked to "join" the "handwriting club" at school. (If
I had a dime for every time those two had to stay in
from recess to practice handwriting...) Ryan was
cast in a Shakespeare play at school as: a girl (Man!
Are the Brits STILL doing THAT?). Siobhan continues
to study like crazy to pass her Common Entrance Exams
(Michael, who actually SHOULD be studying like crazy
to pass the Common Entrance Exams, prefers to watch
reruns of Myth Busters on TV). Aidan continues to be
Aidan. At his conference last week, his teacher
assured me he is nothing but cooperative in school
each day (I furrow my brow and look at her
suspiciously. You're talking about Aidan, right?).
Jim continues to travel to beautiful countries around
Europe where he pretty much only sees the airports. I
continue to be 40.
Attached are three photos: one of the kids in
Brussels, one of a very embarrassed me being escorted
into the Ritz while my obnoxious family snaps photos,
pretending to be the paparazzi and one of Ryan walking
to school with no coat (not cool) and wearing his
required shorts!
Many blessings to you and yours. I love hearing from
you!

With love from England,
T-Ann