December 22, 2006

Hello, all.

I have to admit that just after my last installment,
our magical life in Great Britain broke into pieces.
Ryan got lice at boarding school and gave it to Aidan.
I ignited into a disproportionately extreme melt down
that the children will not soon forget and all but
packed our bags to move home. Jim, who, over the
years, has developed a keen sense for knowing when to
leave the country, was safely tucked away in the
United States and doled out bits of wisdom and
encouragement over the phone which, I have to admit, I
found to be less than helpful. I've been told to
expect the kids will get lice 20 times before we
return to the States. It is as "common as mud" they
tell me. Great. Visit at your own risk.

My parents arrived with Jim and it was wonderful to
see them and hard to let them go. It was a short
visit, but they were able to attend chapel on the last
day of term (beautiful) and were here for Michael and
Siobhan's first ball. Michael in his "dinner suit"
(tux) and Siobhan in her gorgeous dress (ballet style)
were a sight to behold. So grown up. Ball gown
shopping began in early October with a frenzy you'd
associate with a royal wedding. Siobhan, of course,
wanted to look like she was 21 and I was hoping to put
her into something more, say, burlap sack-like. A
compromise was struck with a dress that was both sweet
and sophisticated. They both looked quite elegant.
Michael got to slow dance with the "it" girl in class
which made him feel pretty darn good about life
("Lucky!", Ryan responded).

In case anyone is feeling sorry for Ryan because he
was too young to go to the ball, don't. He had the
good fortune to be asked to a party by the cutest
little girl who has been drawing him pictures of cars
and writing him notes since we moved here. He was
mortified (especially because the girl actually called
and asked ME, not him, which I loved because there was
no way he could cover it up). We, being a very
sensitive people, didn't tease him mercilessly. Much.
And even better that his grandparents were here to
participate. As his luck would have it, we were to be
in London the evening of the party and he couldn't
attend. Ryan is such a reluctant heart throb.

We all went to London and Jim and I were able to sneak
away to see Spamalot the musical based on Monty
Python's The Holy Grail, which we couldn't get tickets
to when it was in Chicago (It was great!). It was
impossible to get a cab back to the hotel afterward,
so against our better judgment we got into a rickshaw.
Because things like this just seem to happen to us,
we ended up WEDGED between two double decker buses on
Oxford Street, one of London's busiest roads!
'Ironic, really', I thought to myself (or words to
that effect). 'All the stupid things I did as a
teenager and now I'm going to DIE in a RICKSHAW?!'
The bus drivers were shouting at the rickshaw driver
and a man inside the bus gestured to me that he'd
pray for us. After we were out of immediate danger,
we politely asked the driver to pull over so we could
exit the rickshaw safely (or words to that effect).

Even with a festive trip to London (where, by the way,
we found a pretty darn authentic Mexican restaurant)
and a visit to Selfridges' Santa, it just doesn't seem
much like Christmas here. My roses are still in
bloom! White Christmas in England refers to the heavy
fog, I think. The stores are filled with lots of
yucky things that English people love to eat. Most
everything they eat at Christmastime is thick, black
and gooey and has a high alcohol content. And not in
in a good way. There are few decorations around. The
decoration of choice is a Christmas tree hung in a
flag pole like device outside of the second story of a
building. It is quite festive and meets my general
approval.

We got our Christmas tree on our way home from London.
We brought almost no decorations with us when we
moved here for a couple of different reasons: First,
I thought I'd fall in love with ornaments here and
could start an all English collection. Second, I was
too lazy last Christmas to pack up all our ornaments
in a way that they could be transported to England
without breakage (Let's face it, I can hardly get them
back into the basement each year without breakage).
Well. The decorations here leave alot to be desired
and are ridiculously expensive (remember we reside in
the land of $8 a gallon gas and $24 toe nail
clippers-I'm serious. Normal cheap toe nail clippers).
Funny thing about Christmas trees is that no matter
where you go in the world, the whole Christmas tree
experience makes you want to have a break down. We
got it home and the stand was too big, the lights were
lame. After a few trips to various stores (the
following day because, of course, all the shops close
at 4:00pm), the tree is up and beautiful and we've
completely forgotten the trouble. Like childbirth.

We've come to another changing of the sports at our
house, so we're off "fitting everyone with new kits".
The boys are quite sad to say goodbye to Rugby season
as they were well suited for rolling around in the
mud, chasing a ball. They are now in field hockey
mode. Siobhan, too, is missing the fast paced field
hockey and will be playing netball. Net ball is like
basketball but without the backboard and you aren't
allowed to dribble the ball. Hmmm. This has the
potential to be another wimpy girls' sport. She is a
bit concerned.

Have a Happy Christmas (so English). Hope Father
Christmas (preferred over "Santa") finds each of you
happy and healthy. Although we will be missing our
family, friends and traditions this year (especially
our ass swinging New Years Eve party where fond
memories were created for both young and old. Like
the year our neighbor, Mark, accidentally lit himself
on fire-good times.), we feel tremendously blessed to
celebrate this season in good health and in true
happiness, in a beautiful part of the world,
surrounded by new friends. God bless.

Cheers!

T-Ann