I haven’t been shocked by much since it has only been three years since we have lived in America. But because I have gotten used to the way things were in Wales, several things continue to surprise me:

–the size of apples are absolutely huge. I have a constant internal battle to whether I should eat 1/2, 3/4, or a whole one for lunch. They look abnormal to me.

–whoever that Ed Hardy guy is, people must like him because his name is on everything…notebooks, beach towels, fragrance, clothing, etc. Everywhere I look, there is his stuff. I am assuming he is very rich by now.

–the endless supply of hot water to shower, do laundry, and do dishes is wonderful. For the past 3 years I have been treating my use of limited hot water in my house in Wales like a new mother feeding her newborn: very scheduled. Each day I would have to mentally work out what I was going to wash and be careful not to use too much hot water in bathing or even cleaning the house, or the hot water would run out, only to be replenished by pushing “Boost” and then seeing the cost reflected in our next bill. Being able to to do many loads of laundry (quickly too), take a shower, and wash dishes and rinse them in hot water from the faucet, not the kettle, makes me giddy. I don’t even mind those once dreaded tasks.

-the sunshine is amazing. Even though we have come back at the hottest time of the year, having predictable sunshine just touches that happy place in my soul. I don’t even care that I am hot and sweating. At least it is predictable. I just simply do not know how the Brits do it with so much rain and so much grey. They are amazing people. When it is sunny in Wales, we run to the window to soak it in, we stop everything we are doing to go outside, and we cram in as many things into that time outside. Because we know it may be days (and in the winter, weeks) before we will see it again.

-julie

[vimeo]http://vimeo.com/4969057[/vimeo]

A lovely gal/lady came up to meet me. She was very nice and we struck up a conversation about where she was from and where I was from. A very short pleasant chat. Then a man who she knows and I am getting to know comes up to visit with me. She remains completely silent throughout my conversation with this man which involves a bold complaint in a tasteful manner coming from me (that makes you wonder there, doesn’t it?). He leaves and it is the two of us girls once again. She is about ready to leave but says something, probably the length of a paragraph. It is done with a smile.

Here is what she said. I think.

“Piece of paper…..(dot dot dot indicate words I could not make out) paint…..(more words I can’t make out) hunch…..(still more words) art…..(another sentence or so missed) income.” And that was it. Those are the only words I got out of that paragraph. She walked away.We hadn’t talked about any of these words, she knows nothing of my background, etc. She was a complete stranger. And instead of saying, “Can you repeat that once more?” I smiled and said,”Yes, thanks, I am artistic.”

Sometimes I am good at asking others to repeat what they have just said. Other times I smile or nod or laugh, not quite sure, but afterwards I can often piece together words like a puzzle and make sense out of the conversation. This time my piecing of words did not lead me to anything. 

Here are my conclusions in no certain order:

1. She has a hunch that I am artistic and that I could make an income out of painting. (Remember, I have never mentioned anything about art nor do I paint).

2. She thinks I could make an income out of selling my clothes. (She was looking at my clothes while she was talking).

3. She thinks I like art and has asked me to paint her nursery for her not born child. If so, I’m in trouble because my answer, “Yes, thanks, I am artistic,” just got me roped into something.

4. And this may be the most far-fetched, but maybe after listening to me complain to this man she suggested that I paint my complaints on a piece of paper.

That conversation made no more sense to me than a bunch of random words in a scrabble game and I am left only wondering. But not to worry, I will have to see her again. I could leave it and act as if I knew what she said, but I am the curious sort. I will embarrassingly figure this one out. I just hope I am not painting a nursery.

-Julie

[youtube]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TVblWq3tDwY[/youtube]

Cheers.

1. Brits take their shoes off (most of the time) when they arrive to a carpeted house. This prevents all of the gunk and goo they obtain on their shoes from the dirty footpaths(sidewalk) from getting onto their carpet where their little dear little baby then rolls around. Or, in my case, where their 3 year old crawls around pretending to be a smilodon.
2. Brits bring a hostess gift when they are invited to dinner at someone’s home. They preferably bring wine, chocolates, or flowers to which their hostess always feels appreciated. And the grocery stores have wonderful flowers (my favourite-lilies) that they then mark down on a regular basis for quick sale. 
3. Brits wear whatever they feel like wearing and don’t give a hoot who is looking. I’ve finally found a place where I can wear my tartan skirt over my jeans with my Diesel motorcycle boots and not get any stares. They rarely wear caps and never wear those velour jogging suits (except sometimes in my part of town).
4. Close friend Brits kiss you on the cheek. Feeling awkward upon moving here I now really like this practice. In fact, now I do the Brit kiss and then the American hug. Watch out, I might do it to you!
5. Brits wait patiently in line (queue). I’m just so impressed by this and marvel every time how politely they wait and do not cut in. I no longer have to be on the lookout to confront the cutters. My friend told me there once was a law against breaking in. Brilliant.
6. Brits always invite you in. In America I was used to talking to my neighbors in my doorway especially when I was busy. But I found out rather quickly that you should invite someone in when they come to your door (if you know them of course). And you should really offer them something to drink.
7. Brits use cool words. I like that they say “trousers” for “pants” and “dressing gown” for “robe” and “waistcoat” for “vest” and “vest” for “tank top (or wife beater)”. I try to use their words often in my own Texas accent. And it is ok to laugh when you hear me.
8. Brits have a witty sense of humour. I have rarely met a person that doesn’t know how to have a good laugh. And I admittedly have to ask them what they mean sometimes. I am convinced that they have developed their humour as a way of coping with the dreadful lack of sunshine and massive amount of rain. So be prepared for me to take the “mick outta you”. (give you a hard time)
9. Brits always take time for tea. I’m not a major fan of tea all day long on an empty stomach, but I love the practice of taking a break. I went to work in the grassed area at Harper’s school one day in the afternoon, and only an hour after I was there, they were wondering if I’d like a cuppa (tea that is). In my art class we always took a tea break and had a chat. Isn’t that lovely?

We had a great time, but Rat and Mouse were really confused by the accents.

Rat and Mouse love looking at giants from far away lands. Man these people are tall.

Adventure #1 Caption:

Rat and Mouse spend the morning with the new swans hoping to not be mistaken for old, crusty bread.

Cheers.

Four foot nine and you know who.
She does everything the big boys do.
Double backs that reach the sky;
There is nothing that she won’t try.

Wheeties cereal commercial 1984 still remembered by me

As the Olympics come to a close, I must pay homage to my childhood hero, gymnast Mary Lou Retton. Already into gymnastics before the games, the 1984 Los Angeles Olympics spurred my love for gymnastics even deeper. All because of Mary Lou. Who else would inspire me to get my hair cut really short and never thereafter, but Mary Lou? (I found out later on that my mom secretly cried because she thought I looked like a boy). I collected all of the Wheeties boxes with her on it when I didn’t even like Wheeties. I ordered the official commemorative Olympic leotard with much of my allowance money (later to be disappointed because the stripes weren’t exactly the same width as those on Mary Lou’s leotard). I begged my dad (and he so kindly did) to make miniature wooden apparatus for my barbies and little orphan annie doll with miniature leotards made by mom. I read Mary Lou’s biography many times and even kept a Tyson chicken cookbook with her featured on it. I didn’t even cook! I can even still remember the precision I took in posing for this picture trying to make my hands positioned just like hers. And of course I taped the Wheeties commercial with her featured to watch over and over and memorize.

Because of Mary Lou many years were spent dedicated to gymnastics. Many afternoons were lived at the gym practicing until I entered high school and knew I was never going to amount to Olympic quality.

So every four years when it is Olympic time, a flood of memories rushes through my mind as I recall that great summer of 1984. The summer of Mary Lou. And you can bet that when my kids were at gymnastics class this week, I longed for a moment where I could just run out onto the floor and relive those great gymnastics years.

Brooks did not.

And for me. Well, every year it brings me back to my youth and memories of my dear brother, Paul, who will undoubtedly receive a phone call reminding him of what he used to do for the “love of the tour”. Long before Lance Armstrong made Le Tour popular amongst Americans, my brother faithfully awaited July in the 1980′s and that half hour/hour highlight special shown each weekend. And he didn’t just sit and watch….he became the tour. He donned his cycling cap, got his water bottle filled up, moved the stationary bicycle in front of the television and while watching, started to pedal and pedal. He became the tour. If it was an especially lucky year he would tape record the TV coverage and watch it back, or better yet listen to it taped on earphones….and he would cycle. King of the Mountains! He became the tour. Just think what it was like in our household when my mom got her hands on a copy of John Tesh official Tour de France music? Over the years, my brother’s interest in the tour greatly diminished, but this yearly event for me serves as a wonderful reminder to the creativity and greatness of my brother, Paul, who became the tour.

Julie