I’m weird about the insistence of chronicling myself on my birthday (or having someone help me). Annie Leibovitz stopped by – in the form of my husband – for this year’s birthday portrait. I dedicate this one to my mother.

Something not so typical is occurring at my house right now. Something that I did not orchestrate, nor do I have any control over. Something to which Brad and I have no words for at this moment.

Our household belongings still haven’t arrived from our move from Wales in July. And we are now at November’s end. Sigh. Grunt. Growl.

So as not to bore one with the details, our crate should have arrived 2 months ago, and will probably arrive within the next two weeks putting us well into December. Some people might enjoy the simplicity & adventurous life of this kind of minimalism, being able to fit all of your belongings in a few suitcases, but no one in my family, including yours truly, finds one ounce of enjoyment of living in an empty house.

But despite all of the frustration that not having one’s whole household belongings causes, I have noticed the most lovely thing happening in my children.  A little experiment if you like.  A little experiment that I did not set out to conduct. A little experiment that has had a most interesting outcome.

Growing up with an extremely creative and resourceful mother who made an indelible impact on me, I have always considered creativity (mainly defined by me as “thinking outside of the box”) one of the bedrocks of how I set up my family.  My kids imagine, they design things, they have limited time on the computer & T.V. They are what I consider to be creative kids. But they often find themselves in the habit of becoming quite bored, despite having so many things to play with. So when the news came that they would be separated from most of their toys longer than expected, I was crestfallen. Even more boredom was anticipated on the horizon with fewer “things”.

But to see the process that my children have gone through over the past months adjusting to a life with less toys has been quite surprising (rest assured; they did bring a suitcase full).

First my kids went through sadness to be separated from most of their belongings. Lots of “I’m bored, I’m sad to have left (insert random toy______), I have nothing to do, Poor me, etc.” Then a little anger from the kids set in with mum crying at night to dad about her “poor babies suffering without all of their stuff.” Followed by more kid cries of, “I’m bored,” sitting around staring at a blank wall, laying on the floor, throwing a small ball repeatedly at the wall.

Then as if a little candle was lit, creativity started to blossom. Those once random projects of designing, creating, imagining, making anything and everything from paper, writing stories, were now happening on a daily basis. And where mum & dad used to be the generator of ideas, the kids now wake up almost daily saying, “Today I am going to (design, write, create, draw, play)…..”

And the cries of boredom have become less and less.

I am completely astonished at how my kids have less at the moment, but yet they are less bored and more creative in all aspects of their childhood than when they have more.

So if you were to ask me what I learned from this “experiment”, it would be this: All of this stuff that we are filling our kids’ lives with, the huge amounts of things we are buying them to fill their time (whether it be an overabundance of toys, or allowing them to spend copious amounts of time in front of the T.V. or computer or Wii) is zapping them of their creativity.

Less is simply better. I am not a promoter of no toys, or anything extreme, but to have watched my kids go from being bored at times with a lot of toys to hardly ever bored with few toys is a most interesting thing. They are living proof that creativity is a muscle. The more you exercise it, the more creative you become.

So this little experiment that was forced upon me, has proven to turn out beautifully.

I’ve been back in the United States for almost 3 weeks now. It seems like I have been back for longer; however, my driving frequency (I’ve driven about 4 times on the “other side of the road”) indicates that it hasn’t been very long. Most days I miss special things about Wales while at the same time I am learning to appreciate, discover, & re-discover things about my home culture in San Antonio.

I have had a major readjustment to the intense heat of Texas. When my kids complain that it is “boiling”, I continually remind them that I grew up in this weather while all the time asking myself, “How DID I grow up with this heat?” For about a week coupled with jet lag, I was sure I was carrying a big hairy gorilla. The heat really weighs you down & zaps your energy until you learn how to live with it. And the best way to live with it…..get in the outdoor pool. I have had an insane amount of fun laying in the pool while the kids play. I wish I could invite all of my Welsh friends to the outdoor pool with lots of heat.

Being reunited with my parents has been a lovely thing. They are so kind to house us all & mom cooks for us most days. How blessed am I? We all went bowling the other day & I chuckled hearing my dad taunt us with athletic stories of his youth. When you have lived so far away from your family, you really appreciate those times of togetherness.

As I have gotten older one thing I have really begun to appreciate is a city’s culture. And San Antonio has a lot of culture. We have loved eating Mexican food (favorite being fish tacos), visiting the Alamo, & seeing all of the colorful decorations of Mexican culture. It was fun to pay our respects to the Welsh flag at the Alamo & learn of the only Welshman (Lewis Johnson) who fought there.

I am still happily amazed by the fact that I can fit so many clothes into the clothes washer & that I can get “nitrate/nitrite” free bacon at almost any supermarket. Sorry to say I am shocked by the obesity problem in Texas & the fact that so many people ride in those automated carts around the store.

I have been most surprised by how I respond to extremely friendly people. I am very friendly & I have always thought that people in Wales were very friendly, but in Texas I have found myself felling slightly uncomfortable in the presence of extreme friendliness. I don’t know if Americans are better at eye contact or what it is, but communication between strangers is different in America. I think I have found myself trying to close one eye (like a one-eyed wink/squint) while someone talks just so it won’t be so intense. To another random person who was talking, I just blurted out, “I love your teeth. You have really straight teeth.” I think my uncomfortableness made me do it!

So, there you have it. Below you’ll find some pictures of fun in San Antonio. And just when I think I reacclimatize to Texas, in two weeks time I will be moving to Portland where another adventure awaits!

The packers/movers came  to my  house today. It is now bare & empty. Rooms echo now which were once full of furniture. Imprints on the carpet show where sofas & chairs once made their home. And lots of small holes remind me of the endless pictures that I hung. When you are an American living in Britain, you start to become used to smaller spaces, and you use them wisely. I’d like to say that my style is a blend of American & British or maybe it is just unique to me. For those of you who never made it over the pond, here’s a little tour.

Here’s the front of my home. I have 3 levels: ground floor, 1st floor, & second floor. Lots & lots of stair climbing. I don’t have a garage, but am lucky to have 2 parking spaces in front. My house is connected on either side by another house. Very, very close contact with one’s neighbors. However, until recently both houses were used as a second home, so I was blessed to be able to blast my music and piano as loud as I wanted. I also don’t have a garden (backyard), but before you feel bad for my kids, don’t worry. My kids played constantly in the front of our house. My son seemed to have his own private football pitch in our car park (parking lot).

Ground Level Floor

Entry way

I have a small toilet(bathroom) on this level. My son’s room is on this level, certainly the most bizarrely placed room in the whole house. His room is smaller than my closet in the U.S., but bless him, he has grown to love his small room. It’s decorated in NYC & now football (soccer) pictures.

My kitchen is not your typical Welsh kitchen. It is open with lots of space and opens to the eating area. Every square inch of my house was carpeted expect for a small tile area in the kitchen. Luckily I like to vacuum.

 I love to give things a new life by painting them white.

The only “closet” I had in my house contained my washer. I crammed it full of other junk too…my makeshift “laundry room.”

In the UK if you want to dry your clothes you either:  use a line to dry them, use a tumble dryer where you have to vent it (usually out the window), or have a condenser dryer which sucks all of the water out of the clothes and you can place anywhere. I have a condenser & have hidden it in the kitchen behind a screen.

First Level

Landing

Old spoons from granny, photos by Brad, & the random plastic antler. I love the light fixtures here. Usually you have a hanging light bulb and can find fancy stuff to attach to it. It is genius in my mind.

My daughter’s room is on this level. Hanging umbrellas and a Mexican heart from New Mexico, Will & Kate flag, antique horses from a shop my grandfather once worked at, and some more things spray painted white. Would a British home be complete without a “Keep Calm & Carry On” picture?

On the back of the house is the lounge. I have a blue cuckoo clock that I love & several pieces of furniture that were once my grandparents & I have painted them. Lots of artwork comes from Steve Keene who is an artist based in NYC. I was able to buy a beautiful print by British artist Mark Hearld while here.

This is Brad’s work area. As you can see, our motto regarding pictures is, “Why put up one picture when you can put up 10?” Bless him for embracing my style.

I have another toilet on this level. The only thing worthy of photographing is another plastic deer head.

Second Level

Our bedroom is on this level. I forgot to take a picture of our large metal Eiffel Tower that was originally supposed to be yard art & a huge crest that I spray painted white. Here is our bed with ottoman in front. I am blessed to have another toilet on this level with a shower. Since we don’t have closets we have wardrobes. I have actually come to love those. They make you simplify your life and get rid of anything unnecessary. And cleaning them out is simple unless you are my husband who only does that once every 5 years.

This is the view from the back of my house. If you know me, you have probably seen a gazillion photos from this view. It is one of the most beautiful places in the world to me & where I have seen a swan nesting for the past four years. The national rowing team also practices in this river. And to throw in a little reality, this is where the local youth like to throw rocks at ours and our neighbors’ houses. There’s always adventure along the path behind our house.

And this is the back of the house from the nearby bridge. Ours is the second brick house from the right under the left arm of the stadium.

So there you have it. A little tour of my house. It will be fun seeing where everything fits in my next house. I can be assured of a couple of things though. There will be lots of pictures & more spray painting of things white. Cheers.

Looking at the post below, I shudder when thinking that the last time I have written was in 2010. I actually write quite a lot about the humour & interesting things that each day brings in my life in a little Moleskine journal, but somehow those things never get copied onto the blog.

My life is about to change in a big way. My family & I are moving at the end of the month back to the U.S. We’ll find ourselves sometime over the summer in Portland, Oregon. From Cardiff, Wales to Portland, Oregon. I have lived in Wales for 5 years. Five years doesn’t really seem that long, but when I think of how I have changed and how my children have grown up here…..5 years seems like a long time.

I am a natural sentimentalist, if that is even a term. So, when I look to these last upcoming weeks spent in beloved Wales, I find myself replaying things in my mind like one does watching movies on an old projector.

Wales has left such an impact on me. I tell people now that I am part Welsh (even with a thick Texas accent). I drive on the opposite side of the road & love roundabouts. I take my shoes off when I come in the house. I say, “Let’s go to town” instead of, “I’m going to the mall.” When given the choice between British or American chocolate, I always choose British without hesitating. I like my smallish house that is connected on both sides to other homes & goes straight up with 3 levels. I love my British toilet with 2 flush options. I make curry, fish pie, & lamb, something I would never have cooked, and I rarely ever put ice in my water. I don’t cancel plans as much when it rains, and I actually walk a lot of places instead of driving (I know Welsh friends–I still drive a lot). I say “Hiya” instead of “Hello” (but still throw in a “Howdy” every so often just for fun) and I sign my name with little x’s afterwards. I don’t even watch American Idol anymore, and I never ever misuse the word “pants” for “trousers.”

Below the surface I am a changed person as well. I have experienced living in a community in a way that I have never have before. Growing up in cities where things were so spread out, my friends and activities were always so spread out as well. Here, I have loved having almost all of my friends living within a mile of my house. I have enjoyed that almost every time I have gone to the supermarket, I have run into people that I know. I love the fact that so many days I wave to friends while driving down the road. I have loved living in the heart of the city.

I have been greatly impacted by meeting so many people from different countries of origin. I have met more people from different countries within the last 5 years than I had ever done in the previous 30+ years of my life. I am truly fascinated by the stories that they have shared. I have met so many people from so many different walks of life & various life experiences and they have helped teach me and let my compassion grow. I can say confidently that I am a far more open-minded person after living in Wales.

And I have laughed more than I ever have in my life. The British humour is second to none.

I feel loved & accepted by the Welsh. I have been so blessed that people have been so kind to me, helpful, forgiving, & even willing to have a good laugh at my expense. And people are always interested to hear my story, which is nice for a person who likes to talk.

Someone recently told my husband that from this day forward, we will never be fully American. I couldn’t agree more. I love America and I love Wales.

I recommend, if possible, living part of your life in a different country. It stretches you, it changes you, it enriches you, it enlivens you. It makes you more whole.