ChgoRed, Girl Editor

Talk Talk

Blogwise, I’ve been quiet for a long time. Last year I had the wedding taking up my time. But since then, I just haven’t felt much like writing. Either I don’t have anything to say, or I write an essay and then hate it, or what I want to write about seems facile and uninteresting.

Stuff I have almost written about in the past few weeks:

1. Earth Day, which we managed to turn into "Screw You, Earth" Day. We were going to hit the big GreenFest at McCormick Place, but decided instead to celebrate the Earth by hanging out in the wonderful weather and appreciating her amazing creations in person at the Lincoln Park Zoo.

Instead, due to the crowds EVERY SINGLE PLACE we went, we actually spent the day driving a ridiculous amount, idling in traffic for an hour (seriously), appreciating Earth’s amazing creations with a side of fries, and watching a bunch of animals that had been caged for our convenience. Plus, during lunch the wind kicked up and a bunch of our napkins blew away. So we littered, too. Actually, it wasn’t so much that we littered as the Earth littered itself. Stupid planet.

2. The colorful people who ride my bus line. There are a few. Among the ones who keep catching my eye is a kid who I am starting to think of as Geek Boy. Even at the (apparent) age of 11, he is well on his way. Windbreaker? Check. Overloaded Spider-Man backpack? Check. Glasses? Check. Two weeks ago, when he got on the bus he was carrying a stuffed Pikachu AND had a plate-size spaceship attached to one wrist. He looks so much like a geek-friend of mine that I can’t decide if I should 1) pull him aside and tell him he’s not alone—that there are others just like him; or 2) just warn him about junior high. Because he seems like a sweet kid, and I think he’s in for a rough time.

3. My surprise birthday trip to Washington (pictures here), which was lovely and exciting and full of cool, famous stuff. Our hosts were very kind, and my husband is a dear for going to such trouble for me. He managed to involve my sister, my aunt, my dad, and two friends in his scheme to spirit me away. Among my new experiences—having an entire Greek restaurant sing me "Happy Birthday," getting to see the Lincoln Memorial, and visiting the Vietnam Memorial.

Also, the Husb and I spent 45 minutes in the Senate Gallery, putting names to the faces we’ve seen so often on Sunday morning TV. And that? Totally rocked. If you ask, we will tell you all about how we think we saw Barack Obama sneaking cigs and how John Kerry walks like Frankenstein.

4. The god-awful impersonations I have been doing for my husband. If I do Henry Kissinger for him one more time, I may end up divorced.

5. How even 7 months later, The Wedding is still not out of our lives. I finally finished the albums I made for our parents (now being printed), and am only about halfway through the thank-you notes. Such appalling slackosity may well cause me to forfeit my subscription to Martha Stewart Living. If you have not yet gotten your thank-you note, my apologies. While you’re waiting, would you like to hear my Kissinger voice?

6. The fact that SPRING! IS! FINALLY! HERE! We had a lot false starts—also known as "February, March and April"—but I know it’s here for good now because I got to wear dresses TWO days in a row. I am all about the dresses. I am becoming a total dress convert. Like, if I had pamphlets I would give you one. One piece of clothing? I just put it on and I am done getting dressed? And I don’t have to coordinate anything except my shoes and maybe a necklace? Sign me up.

D.C.

More pictures here.

Sweet Tea

There's still a smudge of red clay on my left tennis shoe, and I'm hoping it stays there for a while.

The South can get you like that. You show up, spend a few years there, and move away, then come back and realize how much you missed the place. I didn't get to my alma mater this time—only Savannah—but it was close enough. It was good to be back in a place where people don't ask, "UGA? Is that in Atlanta?" because they already know it's in Athens. Doesn't everyone know that? The cars have Georgia bulldog stickers, iced tea comes in two varieties, and when you mention the slaw dogs at the Varsity, people grin.

It was all so wonderfully familiar.

The rest of the trip went well, too. Charlotte, Charleston, Savannah, and back. Four days with mom and sister, plus a side visit to see my dad and stepmom. There were slightly more...intense moments, too. You can't stick relatives together in the confined social space of a vacation and not expect some stress. It's all physics—eventually that pressure has to go somewhere.

My dad was the happiest I've seen him in years. He's been through a tough stretch the past several years and maybe, just maybe, things are starting to look up. He was more like his old self than he had been in a long, long time.

Except for her standard wedding fussing (and just standard fussing in general), my mom was good, too.  Physically, though, she's having a hard time. I think the stress of losing he husband, plus her untreated diabetes, are taking their toll. Getting older is not for sissies.  My sister and I have seen this coming, but the idea of how we will cope with her decline hasn't gotten any easier.

Still, a good break from the city (my first since Thanksgiving). Absolute fun: My sister picked up a book of Savannah ghost stories (complete with map), so we drove around the city looking for haunted houses while I read their stories out loud from the back seat. I highly recommend it. Also nice: The water taxi in Savannah; playing with my sister's dogs; and discovering that both she and I like bhangra music.

And when I got home Sunday night the Fiancé was waiting for me. He even ran out and picked up burritos for dinner. Sweet tea or no, I sure did miss him.

Come Fly With Me--Now, Dammit

Contrary to what sources in my family might say, I am a good traveler. Yeah, yeah--everyone thinks they're a good traveler, but really, I am. At 6 months old I handled a move from California to Colorado without a hitch, and it's been that way ever since. I truly enjoy traveling, I always pay attention during the on-board safety briefing, and the idea of eating exotic food doesn't scare me. I keep track of my boarding pass at all times. I know how to pack a bag that won't give me back strain. Most important, I am flexible--so crucial when traveling. In fact, there's only one thing that I truly consider set in stone: Getting to the airport/train station/boat on time.

(At this point, my sister would like to offer her opinion that, "She's not flexible about this; she's fanatical." To which I say, "Go get your own blog.")

This One Is for Amy

Thanks for noticing the new banner. The picture that's making you so hungry is one I took last November in London. Kandy Tea House, in Kensington. It's tucked away, practically on the side street of a side street. But it turned out to be the perfect place to warm up on a very drizzly and cold Sunday afternoon. £7 gets you two nice scones, jam and clotted cream, and a full pot of tea (about 3 cups worth).

The place was tiny and almost deserted, save for the guy behind the counter and a table of Japanese schoolgirls. And after spending a couple hours in the damp, it was heaven. I lingered as long as I possibly could.

See--now you're not hungry. You're just wishing you were in London.

Catching Up

Highlights of the past two weeks:

Birthday birthday birthday! To paraphrase Jessica Simpson, I’m 33, which is almost, like, 35, which is, like, almost mid-30s. Am I old? Not even close. Featuring: Trip to Carolina, great presents, magical night with you-know-who, being treated to awesome dinners twice in the same week, etc.

This.

Finishing a 57-page report in 7 days rather than the usual 9 or more, thus simultaneously pleasing my boss, the analyst, and the Graphics department.

Attending a big ol' peace march with the Boyfriend. Sun, wacky costumes, waving at the people watching from their condos, and about 400 policemen dressed in full riot gear.

Napoleon’s chess set, Biltmore, N.C.

Burning my way through a bunch of good books.

Studs Terkel doing a reading of a play about Dalton Trumbo. Complete with Studs’ own anecdotes about the blacklist.

Meeting my dad’s fiancée. She’s nice. You’d like her.

Planning future trips with The Boyfriend (N.C. and Arizona). And the whole move thing.

Being reminded of how totally awesome my sister is.

Discovering the miracle that is bronzer. Because I’m a girl, and a pale one at that.

Next week: VEGAS.

Back Stateside

Yep, really back. And big thanks to the Rev for posting in the blog when the system at easyeverything decided it didn't feel like working with me.

Arrived home Wednesday afternoon to smooches and hugs from The Boyfriend. This was followed with the ritual Giving of Souvenirs and Spreading of Dirty Clothes Around the Living Room. (Oh man, is there cleaning to do this weekend.) Bliss ever since, mostly. Obviously, it's a delight to be back with The Boyfriend. But I'm currently in my post-trip funk. This mainly involves wondering where the heck my trip went after all that planning, wishing that work would magically tranform into another restaurant or gift shop, and staring longingly at the world map. You think I'm joking, but by 10:15 yesterday I was gazing at it, thinking, "Tierra del Fuego...wonder what that would be like..." On the El ride home, the woman across from me had a guidebook to Prague, and it was all I could do not to buttonhole her with, "Are you going? Because I just got back from London yesterday. Blah blah blah..." The newly returned traveler is a sad sight.

Speaking of...after landing in Chicago I had the fortune to run into one of those people who is just looking for someone to talk to (you know the kind I mean). Fortunately, she had a good story. The night before our flight, her gold filling fell out. Being logical, she put it in a baggie for her dentist to examine once she got home. However, Heathrow security took one look at the filling--which had a piece of tooth attached--said, "No way is that going on the plane," and confiscated it. Their reasoning: It could be a detonator for a bomb or something. I swear I am not making this up. When they say, "No sharp metal objects in your hand luggage," they mean it.

Now, about that laundry...

Is it too late to go to France?

Like I needed to read this two days before I fly over there. Then again, maybe I really did need to read it.

Not all of us Americans are evil
Eric Schlosser
Wednesday October 29, 2003
The Guardian

...I can't remember another time when having an American accent provoked as much immediate hostility from Brits of every race, creed, class, and sexual orientation. If you're an American, overseas, in the fall of 2003, you've got a lot to answer for.

...If I could fake a British accent with any skill, I would now. It would save a lot of time. rest of text

Four Days and Counting

Today's trip ritual: The Getting of the Funds.

Same bank I've used for every trip. Same counter. Same process of requesting, and signing copies of travelers checks, and having funny-colored money counted out in a pile. Same strange feeling when I walked out the door: I have a wad of cash that I can't spend anywhere. Then, I have the money; now I have to go on the trip.

Spent the weekend rejiggering my schedule and reservations, and am pretty well set. And it only took 6 calls to the UK on Sunday. (The phone company leaps up in frabjous joy.) The only hitch is that I don't think God wants me to go to Oban--problems with the onlne train ticketing service, and my absolute inability to find a single room anywhere in the city have me pretty much convinced. My mother--who won't fly on Halloween--thinks my conclusion is "silly."

Still, London is a go, as is Glasgow.

Friday. It's too close and not close enough.

Overseas in Coach: It's Not for Sissies

From today's NYT, Christie Brinkley on the last flight of the Concorde:

"It just made the world so much smaller, and I just feel we're going back to the olden days, where you have to make yourself comfortable on the long flights," said Ms. Brinkley, who estimated she had flown by Concorde 10 times.

Ahh yes. The olden days, when a supermodel had to content herself with the paltry luxuries of standard commercial first class. (Because it's not like she's parking her uptown-girl hiney in coach with the rest of us.) It's practically 1995 up at the front of the plane, what with a crying lack of caviar and all.

For the benefit of Ms. Brinkley and others now similarly bereft, a few tips about flying overseas from someone who has gone coach every time and lived to tell the tale.

1.) Sleep the whole way through, or as much as you can. I know you think you can’t do it, but you would be surprised. Skip the meal if necessary. First-time travelers overseas usually do what I did the first time I went by myself. You treat it like any other flight--stay up a while, read, eat the meal, stay up some more looking out the window or watching the movie until it “feels like sleep time.” You tuck yourself in, eventually fall asleep, and when you wake up, it’s light outside! Wow! You must have slept the whole night. Ahh. Except you didn’t. You got about 3 or 4 hours sleep, and once you land, that’s all the sleep you’ll have when you’re trusting your brain to get you through customs and traffic in a foreign city. The first time I barely made it to the bed in my hotel, where I collapsed for about 4 hours that afternoon, thus knocking my sleep schedule even more out of whack. The second time I went, I slept, landed, got exactly where I needed to be, and spent the first day shopping and reacquainting myself with London. So sleep. Your body will appreciate it much more than having to endure a movie you wouldn’t pay to see while on the ground, through crappy earphones besides.

2.) Take food and water. As on any domestic flight, it will take seemingly forever for the drink cart to get to your aisle. Plus, the dehydration is worse on a longer flight. You’re going to be grateful for that bottle when everyone else is parched. Same for the food. Bringing your own means you eat what you want, when you want. Don’t think you need to outfit yourself for 3 full meals. Just pack some extra PowerBars, snack foods, trail mix, etc. (Krispy Kremes are not recommended, due to their riot-starting potential. And everyone knows they’re best fresh off the line, anyway.)

3.) Use the restroom. Yes, it might be freaky, what with the teeny toilet and the blue water. But trust me--”freshening up” never meant so much as it does after you’ve slept in a plane seat for 5 hours. You don’t have to take a full-on cat bath in the sink, but you can brush your teeth, rinse your face, and generally feel a little more awake and ready to tackle your day.

Remember: People survive this ordeal every day. Mainly because they're not supermodels.

Homespun Collars

One week to go.

Hotel reservations for every city—to do this weekend.

Packing list—finished, pretty much.

Itinerary—just about settled. Except for last night, when I considered scrapping the Highland part. And this morning, when a glance at the map had me thinking, “Ooh. The Irish Sea. Maybe I should go there, too…”

OK; maybe I’m going to need this last week. Last night, finally, I could feel myself switching into major vacation mode. You know—when your reading material gets down to just guidebooks and little maps, when you start telling people at work, “I may not be here to finish that because I’ll be on vacation,” and when you stop buying groceries because you don’t want your fridge to start growing its own food in your absence.

The friends and family are ready, having doled out helpings of worry and encouragement during my recent visits. (And how smart was I to pack three trips into five weeks? Not very. “Home” is now shorthand for, “That place where I keep my suitcase in the middle of the living room, where I will unpack it before the next trip starts. I promise.” )
Best concern line came from my mom.
Mom: You’re leaving when?
Me: October 31st. I fly out on Halloween.
Mom: Halloween? Do you really think that’s a good idea?
Me: Why? It’s just a day.
Mom: Well, I just—I just wouldn’t fly on Halloween.

I think the Boyo is ready, too. He’s not quite so thrilled about the next week, when I switch my sleep schedule to 7PM-3AM. We’ll work on it. He’s really such a dear; I didn’t answer the phone last night (I was asleep), and he got so worried he came to check on me. So worth adoring, that man. I’m gonna have to find him something nice.

It’s going to be a great trip, even if I decide to redo all my travel plans the moment I hit the hotel. Some things I know I will see: the V&A (finally), the Old Operating Theatre Museum (spooky), and Guy Fawkes Day (historic). I'll even be there on Remembrance Day. At the Cenotaph.

“Homespun collars, homespun hearts
Wear to rags in foreign parts.
Mine's about as good as done
And I must get a London one.”

Indeed.

Big Plans Afoot

Along with thinking about the boyo and the Cubs, I am increasingly occupied with planning my upcoming UK trip. This will be my fourth trip to the kingdom and the third traveling solo. Awesome. Zip out Halloween night, then spend nearly two weeks in London, Glasgow, and other places yet to be determined. Might even go to France if there's time. I don't doubt there will be rain, but I also know there will be amazing things.

Case in point. Bought a new copy of TimeOut London today, and discovered a play that sounds exactly like what I like. Romeo and Juliet. But on trapeze. Performed by an Icelandic acrobatic troupe. How much cooler could it get? And it's actually going to be on while I'm there. The boyo was less than impressed by my overheated description of the show as Romeo & Juliet meets Cirque de Soleil. His exact assessment: "It sounds monumentally moronic." Hmph.

Not only does it sound like an only-in-London sort of thing, but it also takes away the sting of learning that I'm going to be missing Dave Gorman. And Damian Lewis. Sigh. That one really hurts, what with me running a fansite and all.

Nevertheless, I'm starting to get psyched. Have already bought extra memory cards for the camera, meaning I'll be able to take more than 700 pictures. Woo! This weekend, I'll be shopping for walking shoes. And...I finally broke down and bought something I'd been putting off forever.

I bought a cell phone.

It's a flippy little blue deal, with games and whatnot. Like I cared. My criteria: must work overseas; must have voicemail. The end.

I've held out for a long time, but my sister made some strong points about me being all alone in a foreign country. (I doubt my descriptions of planned visits to Highland cemeteries helped her nerves any.) She's a lot happier knowing that I'll have a phone with me no matter what. I think the boyo will feel better knowing I have one, too. He's trying to be very cool about not worrying, but I know it's in the back of his mind. Because he's a sweetheart, he already promised to "kick the ass" of any terrorist who might mess with my plane. I don't doubt he would.

We're both trying to be practical about this, but I think we're also both trying to avoid thinking about what 12 days apart will be like. He is a delight, and a wonder, and I haven't been apart from him that long since we met in February. I mean, we'll survive. But I already know I'm going to miss him something terrible. For now, I just concentrate on the planning. The missing-him will fall into its own place right about the time I get on the plane.