You've heard of that postcards confessional thing, right? The one where (supposably) real people write their real confessions on a postcard then snail mail it where somebody else scans the postcard and posts the (supposably) real confessions written on the real postcard and post it on a website for all the world to see.
My manager attended a management training seminar last week that took four different approaches to it, one of those aspects being "spiritual," or as "spiritual" as you can get in a corporate setting without crossing into the "religious" territory. One of the last activities they did was to cleanse or purge their "spiritual selves" (souls?) by confessing their deepest, darkest secret. All the participants wrote their confessions on a piece of paper, anonymously of course, then they were read out loud by the facilitator. My manager said there was some pretty intense, deep secrets that were shared.
I started thinking about what I would write (anonymously, of course) on a piece of paper to be shared with a group of strangers. Ouch. Scary. No way am I saying that!
So instead, here are other deep, dark secrets of mine for you, world wide intraweb.
I like hot dogs. I know. Gross, huh? Sometimes I even crave them. Sometimes, I even stop at 7-11 and get a Big Gulp (Diet Coke, of course!) with a hot dog. With some ketchup, mustard and a dollop of relish, it's almost the perfect dog. It could only be made more perfect with onions topping it, but those dang onions will witness against me every time that I just ate a 7-11 hot dog -- either by the smell left in the car or the smell left on my breath. I indulge in the onions at a Dodger game (no better hot dog than a Dodger Dog!), but rarely elsewhere.
I can't subtract from zero. I know. Weird, huh? I mean, I *can,* -- I know the principle of subtracting from a number that's less than the one you're subtracting -- you just borrow from its neighbor. But when there's two zeros in a row, it gets confusing and I need a calculator. It's like life -- you can't keep borrowing from the neighbors before they start expecting something in return, and I don't know how to do that in math.
On Wednesdays when I work from home, I get more work accomplished in a shorter amount of time, which is a math-y way of saying there's more time to play, which I do. Frequently. Sue me. It means more peace and joy in my life because I'm not having to deal with the noisiness of work....of which there is much.
I turn my Blackberry off at 7 p.m. on weekdays and on Fridays, it stays off until Monday morning at seven. I don't ever feel guilty about not doing work during those hours. There's an off switch for a reason!
That's enough for now, I think, if only because going to the bathroom sounds like a better offer than writing more. Yes, world wide intraweb, I'm trading you in for a trip to the potty. Should I put that on a postcard?
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Friday, July 11, 2008
Oil Outta Your Lamp
Okay, maybe not oil out of YOUR lamp, but it's definitely sucking mine dry. A friend of mine from church taught me this phrase, and it not only was enlightening, it was hilarious. I made a comment -- not altogether disparaging -- about a stooped-over gentleman in our ward. My friend said, "Oil outta your lamp, Laura. Oil outta your lamp."
I loved that she was that up front with me. I also loved getting a new perspective to an old principle. I've always thought about needing to add oil to my lamp, but have never had occasion to think about oil coming out of it. It makes sense though that oil would come out of it correspondingly, or else I'd have the world's largest lamp. Which I don't. At all. So it's a good way, a nice quick reminder way to remind myself that I'm not always on my best behavior.
I told my bff about my new perspective and catch phrase, and she laughed and laughed -- simply because it's one of the things she and I excel at together -- taking oil out of our respective lamps while making observations (e.g. gossiping, etc.) about people. The best occasion we had to use this phrase with each other was when we went to the Mormon Prom. There were some *ahem* interesting outfits there. We didn't even have to comment specifically, we just looked at each other, smiled, and she said, "Slow leak. Dripping everywhere."
I know this is a weakness of mine -- that of verbalizing my observations-- epsecially the not-so-flattering (probably especially to me), ones but dang it! Sometimes it just feels good to do it. Sometimes my lamp's gonna be oily, sometimes it's gonna be dry.
I loved that she was that up front with me. I also loved getting a new perspective to an old principle. I've always thought about needing to add oil to my lamp, but have never had occasion to think about oil coming out of it. It makes sense though that oil would come out of it correspondingly, or else I'd have the world's largest lamp. Which I don't. At all. So it's a good way, a nice quick reminder way to remind myself that I'm not always on my best behavior.
I told my bff about my new perspective and catch phrase, and she laughed and laughed -- simply because it's one of the things she and I excel at together -- taking oil out of our respective lamps while making observations (e.g. gossiping, etc.) about people. The best occasion we had to use this phrase with each other was when we went to the Mormon Prom. There were some *ahem* interesting outfits there. We didn't even have to comment specifically, we just looked at each other, smiled, and she said, "Slow leak. Dripping everywhere."
I know this is a weakness of mine -- that of verbalizing my observations-- epsecially the not-so-flattering (probably especially to me), ones but dang it! Sometimes it just feels good to do it. Sometimes my lamp's gonna be oily, sometimes it's gonna be dry.
Happy Independence Day
I am grateful to live in this wonderful country. I love the freedoms and privileges we enjoy. I am thankful for those who have fought and given their lives freely so that we might enjoy freedoms we might not otherwise. I am grateful for our founding fathers (should that be Founding Fathers?) who forged pathways and made it possible for our new little country to stand on its own. I love that we have a day where we can celebrate the birth of our nation.
What I am not grateful for is Porta-potties. How it possible that 227 years after the signing of the Declaration of Independence we still have to do our business over a hole in the ground? And not a hole of our own choosing, either, but one already polluted by those who came before us with no care or regard for those to follow. Yuck.
That was my least favorite part of the day.
Other than bodily functions having to be performed in less than desirable places, the day was fantastic. I love celebrating in Ojai, a small town just inland from Ventura. We didn't follow our usual traditions this year, and it was still a great day with friends and family of choice. We did see part of the parade in Ojai, then went to the street fair in Ventura, visited with Tammy there, then back up to Ojai for a small nap and then fireworks and live music in the high school stadium.
There was a baby moon setting just behind the sun, and the smoke from the recent fires in Santa Barbara and Goleta provided some smog for a beautiful sunset backdrop.
Happy Independence Day!
What I am not grateful for is Porta-potties. How it possible that 227 years after the signing of the Declaration of Independence we still have to do our business over a hole in the ground? And not a hole of our own choosing, either, but one already polluted by those who came before us with no care or regard for those to follow. Yuck.
That was my least favorite part of the day.
Other than bodily functions having to be performed in less than desirable places, the day was fantastic. I love celebrating in Ojai, a small town just inland from Ventura. We didn't follow our usual traditions this year, and it was still a great day with friends and family of choice. We did see part of the parade in Ojai, then went to the street fair in Ventura, visited with Tammy there, then back up to Ojai for a small nap and then fireworks and live music in the high school stadium.
There was a baby moon setting just behind the sun, and the smoke from the recent fires in Santa Barbara and Goleta provided some smog for a beautiful sunset backdrop.
Happy Independence Day!
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year!
Tax season. Some people dread it, which I can completely understand. But my life is fairly simple -- no real estate, stocks or bonds to speak of -- just the occasional deduction that needs itemizing. Up until two years ago for every year of my adult life, I did my own income taxes. Starting on February 1, I got all the forms from the post office, then spread everything out on the table making a mess of papers, and struggled through reading and re-reading each line of legalease to squeeze every last dollar out that I conceivably could. It would take the better part of a long evening to complete both state and federal returns. That's how my mom did it, and that's how I assumed it needed to be done since I'm too cheap to pay an accountant to do it for me.
A couple of years ago I figured there had to be a better way and started using TurboTax. Best thing ever. Instead of laboring through small print trying to figure out which lines I could use to my benefit, this lovely invention cuts my tax prep time by about 75%. And it's most satisfying to be able to breeze through it on a slow day at work, which is what I did today. Unusually delinquent on my part, but e-filing takes the guilt away for postponing it for a few weeks.
Anyway, now that I'm filed and just waiting for the money to automagically appear in my checking account, my mental plans for how to spend the money are underway. Last year the bulk of it (no pun intended) went to a weight loss clinic -- a very worthwhile investment. This year, I think a bit more frivolity is in order.
Two things on my list are virtual skydiving and hang gliding with my sister at Point of the Mountain. I don't have any big-ticket items for purchasing in mind yet -- I usually do, but can't think of any fun toys I feel are missing in my life. So maybe for the time being I'll just save the rest of it. Couldn't hurt, that's for sure. But the idea of a little extra cash -- so FUN to think about! It leaves my wallet salivating -- for what, I don't know yet, but I'll figure it out.
Meanwhile, Happy Tax Season! Many happy returns to you and yours. (Hee -- I crack myself up! )
A couple of years ago I figured there had to be a better way and started using TurboTax. Best thing ever. Instead of laboring through small print trying to figure out which lines I could use to my benefit, this lovely invention cuts my tax prep time by about 75%. And it's most satisfying to be able to breeze through it on a slow day at work, which is what I did today. Unusually delinquent on my part, but e-filing takes the guilt away for postponing it for a few weeks.
Anyway, now that I'm filed and just waiting for the money to automagically appear in my checking account, my mental plans for how to spend the money are underway. Last year the bulk of it (no pun intended) went to a weight loss clinic -- a very worthwhile investment. This year, I think a bit more frivolity is in order.
Two things on my list are virtual skydiving and hang gliding with my sister at Point of the Mountain. I don't have any big-ticket items for purchasing in mind yet -- I usually do, but can't think of any fun toys I feel are missing in my life. So maybe for the time being I'll just save the rest of it. Couldn't hurt, that's for sure. But the idea of a little extra cash -- so FUN to think about! It leaves my wallet salivating -- for what, I don't know yet, but I'll figure it out.
Meanwhile, Happy Tax Season! Many happy returns to you and yours. (Hee -- I crack myself up! )
Thursday, November 8, 2007
Wendy, This One's For You
No need to call Scotland Yard -- I am alive, safe, sound and well. I've just been taking your words to heart and trying my best to explore the city. Remember? The other day when we were talking you said, "It's evening in London. Why aren't you out exploring and making the most of everything???" So, that's what I've been doing.
Mary Poppins on Tuesday night was fantastic, er, wait -- scratch that. It was practically perfect in every way. I absolutely picked the right show to see. It took me awhile to find the theater -- Soho is full of windy little streets and few of them are posted with names, so when I got directions to the Prince Edward theater, it sounded easy enough and looked navigable on paper, but walking through Leicester Square and trying to find Old Compton Road was not as easy in practice. But find it I did (nearly on accident), then got a bite to eat at The Stewpot, a nice little restaurant with a cranky waitress. The French onion soup was made with a cream of mushroom base and didn't have goops of cheese, but was passable, then I had a cheese and apple salad that was mostly coleslaw and carrots. What is it with the British and mayonaise? I watched a woman eating her salad with salmon and each bite got smothered with the stuff. Yuck.
Then I did a little souvie shopping. I didn't get anything for you, but it was productive.
The show was fantastic. It's more true to the books than the movie is, and that makes for a melancholoy end to the first act (Mary has to leave because the children are not ready/willing to learn how to control their tempers), an exciting beginning to the second act (Mrs. Banks engages Mr. Banks's former nanny, The Old Battleaxe or something horrible like that) with a fabulous nanny duel, won by none other than Mary Poppins. The big character development and lessons learned is by Mr. Banks who learns how to let go of his horrendous childhood courtesy of the old battleaxe, remember the magical bits of it courtesy of Mary Poppins, and learn how to love his own children and wife, making it no longer necessary for Mary Poppins to reside at No. 17 Cherry Tree Lane. There are wonderful effects, lots of flying, a little bit of dancing on the stage wall and ceiling, and many sweet tender moments.
Yesterday after work Anthony (if you're reading this with a british accent you must not pronounce the "h;" it is "Antony.") and I set out to try and find The Disney Store on Regent Street, which is still listed on the website as existing, but the cab driver said he hadn't seen it in awhile. He was right. There is instead a huge toy store called Hamley's in its place -- not unlike a huge and chaotic FAO Schwartz. We did not stay long since it was, as already mentioned, a bit of chaos and not the organized type. So we walked down Regent Street to Picadilly Circus then onto Picadilly Road to Waterstones, which is supposably Europe's largest bookstore. It's certainly the largest I've ever been in with six stories to it. And that, dear friend, is where I got the present I'm bringing home for you from London. No, I'm not telling you yet what it is; you'll just have to wait with everyone else to find out next week.
Today's adventure will be a trip to Lutterworth to see the distribution center. Lutterworth is famous for being John Wycliff's home and where the first English translation of the Bible was done from Latin. I don't know if we'll see any of those sites as the train actually goes to Rugby, not Lutterworth, but perhaps there will be something to see commemorating that.
It will be an all day adventure and I plan on being well armed with iPod and book so as to not be driven crazy by Antony's personal auto-conversations during a 2 hour train trip.
So as you can see, all is well here in London. It's a bit cold (freezing actually for my poor thin blood), but certainly bearable and I am doing my best to soak in everything and enjoy each moment.
Mary Poppins on Tuesday night was fantastic, er, wait -- scratch that. It was practically perfect in every way. I absolutely picked the right show to see. It took me awhile to find the theater -- Soho is full of windy little streets and few of them are posted with names, so when I got directions to the Prince Edward theater, it sounded easy enough and looked navigable on paper, but walking through Leicester Square and trying to find Old Compton Road was not as easy in practice. But find it I did (nearly on accident), then got a bite to eat at The Stewpot, a nice little restaurant with a cranky waitress. The French onion soup was made with a cream of mushroom base and didn't have goops of cheese, but was passable, then I had a cheese and apple salad that was mostly coleslaw and carrots. What is it with the British and mayonaise? I watched a woman eating her salad with salmon and each bite got smothered with the stuff. Yuck.
Then I did a little souvie shopping. I didn't get anything for you, but it was productive.
The show was fantastic. It's more true to the books than the movie is, and that makes for a melancholoy end to the first act (Mary has to leave because the children are not ready/willing to learn how to control their tempers), an exciting beginning to the second act (Mrs. Banks engages Mr. Banks's former nanny, The Old Battleaxe or something horrible like that) with a fabulous nanny duel, won by none other than Mary Poppins. The big character development and lessons learned is by Mr. Banks who learns how to let go of his horrendous childhood courtesy of the old battleaxe, remember the magical bits of it courtesy of Mary Poppins, and learn how to love his own children and wife, making it no longer necessary for Mary Poppins to reside at No. 17 Cherry Tree Lane. There are wonderful effects, lots of flying, a little bit of dancing on the stage wall and ceiling, and many sweet tender moments.
Yesterday after work Anthony (if you're reading this with a british accent you must not pronounce the "h;" it is "Antony.") and I set out to try and find The Disney Store on Regent Street, which is still listed on the website as existing, but the cab driver said he hadn't seen it in awhile. He was right. There is instead a huge toy store called Hamley's in its place -- not unlike a huge and chaotic FAO Schwartz. We did not stay long since it was, as already mentioned, a bit of chaos and not the organized type. So we walked down Regent Street to Picadilly Circus then onto Picadilly Road to Waterstones, which is supposably Europe's largest bookstore. It's certainly the largest I've ever been in with six stories to it. And that, dear friend, is where I got the present I'm bringing home for you from London. No, I'm not telling you yet what it is; you'll just have to wait with everyone else to find out next week.
Today's adventure will be a trip to Lutterworth to see the distribution center. Lutterworth is famous for being John Wycliff's home and where the first English translation of the Bible was done from Latin. I don't know if we'll see any of those sites as the train actually goes to Rugby, not Lutterworth, but perhaps there will be something to see commemorating that.
It will be an all day adventure and I plan on being well armed with iPod and book so as to not be driven crazy by Antony's personal auto-conversations during a 2 hour train trip.
So as you can see, all is well here in London. It's a bit cold (freezing actually for my poor thin blood), but certainly bearable and I am doing my best to soak in everything and enjoy each moment.
Monday, November 5, 2007
My Long, Long Friend, the Tube
I know why they call it a "red eye" flight. There is nothing like that gritty, painful feeling in the eyes from trying to sleep on a plane against all physical instincts. You know you're supposed to because of the whole time/date change thing you want to overcome so's you can be at your best upon arrival, but your body really doesn't want to because it's not time to yet.
All things considered though, the flight and my handling of it went as well as could be expected. I slept for a few hours, though not contiguously, my legs didn't get as swollen as they did on the hellish Shanghai flight, and I somehow wound up in Economy Plus seating without having to pay the extra upgrade fee this time around. I'm not exactly sure how I managed to swing that, but it was lovely, especially since I didn't have to pay for it out of my own pocket.
My seat mate and surrounding friends were friendly fellows, all on their way to Sheffield, England then ultimately to Russia -- they're roadies for Alice Cooper. I just checked his web site, and they're doing 10 shows in England over the next 12 days. Anyway, they were nice guys. I thought about asking them if there was any truth to the rumor that Alice Cooper is LDS, but decided against it. I needed my sleep more than I needed that conversation.
We got to the hotel at around 12:45, but the rooms weren't ready yet, so we walked up to a little restaurant that the concierge recommended, Maggie Jones. Since today is Sunday, these little restaurants all have a set "roast" menu. It reminded me of Sunday dinners growing up -- we had roasts frequently on Sundays, and I love thinking about the hundreds of years of traditions that have gone into a nice family sit-down dinner that made it into my little family in America in the 20th century.
Anyway, the restaurant was small and adorable -- it was reminiscent of an old farm house with small rickety stairs, a thick rope for a hand rail, hardly any room to maneuver in, old sturdy wood furniture, and excellent food. I had a venison pate for a first course, then roast lamb for the main course. I haven't had lamb since I was a kid, and I loved the familiar taste of the meat with a little bit of roasted onion and potato, topped with a bit of mint jelly. DE-licious. Dessert was an apple crumble with cream. The apples were perfectly tart, with the crumbly crust sweetened just enough to take the bite out of the apples, then a thick cream over it all to cool it off.
At this rate, I am not going to do very well weight-wise this week, but the airplane food was scant and less than delicious, so it's okay to have one really great meal today, right?
The rooms were ready when we got back, so I lightened my backpack load, armed myself with my camera, and went next door to Kensington gardens and palace. I hadn't planned on visiting the palace proper, probably simply because I didn't realize it was a possibility, but I did end up spending 12 pounds to see the parts that are open to the public. There was a lovely homage to Princess Diana, since she was one of the recent royal occupants, then Apartment 1A where Princess Margaret and Lord Snowden lived during the 60s-70s, then the older stuff about William, Mary, a bunch of the Georges, and even a little about Queen Victoria. It was all very grand and lovely and palatial, as one would expect a, well, a palace to be. It lacked only the cold stone mortars of medieval castles, but I guess that's why it's called a "palace" and not "castle."
Then I walked around Kensington Gardens and got a bit into Hyde Park. It was perfect late afternoon autumn lighting and the trees are all beautifully changing colors. People were out in full force rollerblading, jogging, walking dogs (never once saw one on a leash. Is it possible that British dogs are all as well-behaved as British humans? If they would speak, would it be also with perfect accents and elocution? I imagine so), playing frisbee, feeding the birds, feeding the squirrels (can't wait to upload photos of the cute old man who literally has squirrels eating out of his hand. Charming!), riding bicycles -- it was the perfect, idyllic family Sunday afternoon. It made me happy just being there to see other people's happiness and joy.
It started to get cold and dark at about 4:00 p.m., so I headed back to the hotel where I've been ever since relaxing, ordering room service and watching TV. The show selection is as minimal as I remember it being the last time I was here nearly a decade ago. The majority of the channels appear to be perfect for the typical Arabic or Muslim guest, which I am not, so there are approximately four channels with potential to interest me. I am now watching "The X Factor," which appears to be similar to "America's Got Talent," and the only thing it's helping me to accomplish is wondering why Simon Cowell is so very critical of the American Idol contestants but does not have a bad thing to say to any contestants of this home-town show. Is this British elitism at work? I believe so. There are performs who would get heartily mocked by him if it were American Idol, yet are heavily praised by him on this show. It's all quite perplexing and bewildering, and I mightily hope that there is another viewing option available to me soon.
Sadly, the DVD players are not compatible with my DVDs that I brought, and I don't feel like watching anything on my laptop, so I will continue to complain about the dismal viewing selection.
The good news is that if I can hold off going to bed for at least two more hours, I will have a fine chance of beating jet lag and being ready to tackle on the many meetings that await me tomorrow.
All things considered though, the flight and my handling of it went as well as could be expected. I slept for a few hours, though not contiguously, my legs didn't get as swollen as they did on the hellish Shanghai flight, and I somehow wound up in Economy Plus seating without having to pay the extra upgrade fee this time around. I'm not exactly sure how I managed to swing that, but it was lovely, especially since I didn't have to pay for it out of my own pocket.
My seat mate and surrounding friends were friendly fellows, all on their way to Sheffield, England then ultimately to Russia -- they're roadies for Alice Cooper. I just checked his web site, and they're doing 10 shows in England over the next 12 days. Anyway, they were nice guys. I thought about asking them if there was any truth to the rumor that Alice Cooper is LDS, but decided against it. I needed my sleep more than I needed that conversation.
We got to the hotel at around 12:45, but the rooms weren't ready yet, so we walked up to a little restaurant that the concierge recommended, Maggie Jones. Since today is Sunday, these little restaurants all have a set "roast" menu. It reminded me of Sunday dinners growing up -- we had roasts frequently on Sundays, and I love thinking about the hundreds of years of traditions that have gone into a nice family sit-down dinner that made it into my little family in America in the 20th century.
Anyway, the restaurant was small and adorable -- it was reminiscent of an old farm house with small rickety stairs, a thick rope for a hand rail, hardly any room to maneuver in, old sturdy wood furniture, and excellent food. I had a venison pate for a first course, then roast lamb for the main course. I haven't had lamb since I was a kid, and I loved the familiar taste of the meat with a little bit of roasted onion and potato, topped with a bit of mint jelly. DE-licious. Dessert was an apple crumble with cream. The apples were perfectly tart, with the crumbly crust sweetened just enough to take the bite out of the apples, then a thick cream over it all to cool it off.
At this rate, I am not going to do very well weight-wise this week, but the airplane food was scant and less than delicious, so it's okay to have one really great meal today, right?
The rooms were ready when we got back, so I lightened my backpack load, armed myself with my camera, and went next door to Kensington gardens and palace. I hadn't planned on visiting the palace proper, probably simply because I didn't realize it was a possibility, but I did end up spending 12 pounds to see the parts that are open to the public. There was a lovely homage to Princess Diana, since she was one of the recent royal occupants, then Apartment 1A where Princess Margaret and Lord Snowden lived during the 60s-70s, then the older stuff about William, Mary, a bunch of the Georges, and even a little about Queen Victoria. It was all very grand and lovely and palatial, as one would expect a, well, a palace to be. It lacked only the cold stone mortars of medieval castles, but I guess that's why it's called a "palace" and not "castle."
Then I walked around Kensington Gardens and got a bit into Hyde Park. It was perfect late afternoon autumn lighting and the trees are all beautifully changing colors. People were out in full force rollerblading, jogging, walking dogs (never once saw one on a leash. Is it possible that British dogs are all as well-behaved as British humans? If they would speak, would it be also with perfect accents and elocution? I imagine so), playing frisbee, feeding the birds, feeding the squirrels (can't wait to upload photos of the cute old man who literally has squirrels eating out of his hand. Charming!), riding bicycles -- it was the perfect, idyllic family Sunday afternoon. It made me happy just being there to see other people's happiness and joy.
It started to get cold and dark at about 4:00 p.m., so I headed back to the hotel where I've been ever since relaxing, ordering room service and watching TV. The show selection is as minimal as I remember it being the last time I was here nearly a decade ago. The majority of the channels appear to be perfect for the typical Arabic or Muslim guest, which I am not, so there are approximately four channels with potential to interest me. I am now watching "The X Factor," which appears to be similar to "America's Got Talent," and the only thing it's helping me to accomplish is wondering why Simon Cowell is so very critical of the American Idol contestants but does not have a bad thing to say to any contestants of this home-town show. Is this British elitism at work? I believe so. There are performs who would get heartily mocked by him if it were American Idol, yet are heavily praised by him on this show. It's all quite perplexing and bewildering, and I mightily hope that there is another viewing option available to me soon.
Sadly, the DVD players are not compatible with my DVDs that I brought, and I don't feel like watching anything on my laptop, so I will continue to complain about the dismal viewing selection.
The good news is that if I can hold off going to bed for at least two more hours, I will have a fine chance of beating jet lag and being ready to tackle on the many meetings that await me tomorrow.
Sunday, November 4, 2007
Hallo, London!
I know why they call it a "red eye" flight. There is nothing like that gritty, painful feeling in the eyes from trying to sleep on a plane against all physical instincts. You know you're supposed to because of the whole time/date change thing you want to overcome so's you can be at your best upon arrival, but your body really doesn't want to because it's not time to yet.
All things considered though, the flight and my handling of it went as well as could be expected. I slept for a few hours, though not contiguously, my legs didn't get as swollen as they did on the hellish Shanghai flight, and I somehow wound up in Economy Plus seating without having to pay the extra upgrade fee this time around. I'm not exactly sure how I managed to swing that, but it was lovely, especially since I didn't have to pay for it out of my own pocket.
My seat mate and surrounding friends were friendly fellows, all on their way to Sheffield, England then ultimately to Russia -- they're roadies for Alice Cooper. I just checked his web site, and they're doing 10 shows in England over the next 12 days. Anyway, they were nice guys. I thought about asking them if there was any truth to the rumor that Alice Cooper is LDS, but decided against it. I needed my sleep more than I needed that conversation.
We got to the hotel at around 12:45, but the rooms weren't ready yet, so we walked up to a little restaurant that the concierge recommended, Maggie Jones. Since today is Sunday, these little restaurants all have a set "roast" menu. It reminded me of Sunday dinners growing up -- we had roasts frequently on Sundays, and I love thinking about the hundreds of years of traditions that have gone into a nice family sit-down dinner that made it into my little family in America in the 20th century.
Anyway, the restaurant was small and adorable -- it was reminiscent of an old farm house with small rickety stairs, a thick rope for a hand rail, hardly any room to maneuver in, old sturdy wood furniture, and excellent food. I had a venison pate for a first course, then roast lamb for the main course. I haven't had lamb since I was a kid, and I loved the familiar taste of the meat with a little bit of roasted onion and potato, topped with a bit of mint jelly. DE-licious. Dessert was an apple crumble with cream. The apples were perfectly tart, with the crumbly crust sweetened just enough to take the bite out of the apples, then a thick cream over it all to cool it off.
At this rate, I am not going to do very well weight-wise this week, but the airplane food was scant and less than delicious, so it's okay to have one really great meal today, right?
The rooms were ready when we got back, so I lightened my backpack load, armed myself with my camera, and went next door to Kensington gardens and palace. I hadn't planned on visiting the palace proper, probably simply because I didn't realize it was a possibility, but I did end up spending 12 pounds to see the parts that are open to the public. There was a lovely homage to Princess Diana, since she was one of the recent royal occupants, then Apartment 1A where Princess Margaret and Lord Snowden lived during the 60s-70s, then the older stuff about William, Mary, a bunch of the Georges, and even a little about Queen Victoria. It was all very grand and lovely and palatial, as one would expect a, well, a palace to be. It lacked only the cold stone mortars of medieval castles, but I guess that's why it's called a "palace" and not "castle."
Then I walked around Kensington Gardens and got a bit into Hyde Park. It was perfect late afternoon autumn lighting and the trees are all beautifully changing colors. People were out in full force rollerblading, jogging, walking dogs (never once saw one on a leash. Is it possible that British dogs are all as well-behaved as British humans? If they would speak, would it be also with perfect accents and elocution? I imagine so), playing frisbee, feeding the birds, feeding the squirrels (can't wait to upload photos of the cute old man who literally has squirrels eating out of his hand. Charming!), riding bicycles -- it was the perfect, idyllic family Sunday afternoon. It made me happy just being there to see other people's happiness and joy.
It started to get cold and dark at about 4:00 p.m., so I headed back to the hotel where I've been ever since relaxing, ordering room service and watching TV. The show selection is as minimal as I remember it being the last time I was here nearly a decade ago. The majority of the channels appear to be perfect for the typical Arabic or Muslim guest, which I am not, so there are approximately four channels with potential to interest me. I am now watching "The X Factor," which appears to be similar to "America's Got Talent," and the only thing it's helping me to accomplish is wondering why Simon Cowell is so very critical of the American Idol contestants but does not have a bad thing to say to any contestants of this home-town show. Is this British elitism at work? I believe so. There are performs who would get heartily mocked by him if it were American Idol, yet are heavily praised by him on this show. It's all quite perplexing and bewildering, and I mightily hope that there is another viewing option available to me soon.
Sadly, the DVD players are not compatible with my DVDs that I brought, and I don't feel like watching anything on my laptop, so I will continue to complain about the dismal viewing selection.
The good news is that if I can hold off going to bed for at least two more hours, I will have a fine chance of beating jet lag and being ready to tackle on the many meetings that await me tomorrow.
All things considered though, the flight and my handling of it went as well as could be expected. I slept for a few hours, though not contiguously, my legs didn't get as swollen as they did on the hellish Shanghai flight, and I somehow wound up in Economy Plus seating without having to pay the extra upgrade fee this time around. I'm not exactly sure how I managed to swing that, but it was lovely, especially since I didn't have to pay for it out of my own pocket.
My seat mate and surrounding friends were friendly fellows, all on their way to Sheffield, England then ultimately to Russia -- they're roadies for Alice Cooper. I just checked his web site, and they're doing 10 shows in England over the next 12 days. Anyway, they were nice guys. I thought about asking them if there was any truth to the rumor that Alice Cooper is LDS, but decided against it. I needed my sleep more than I needed that conversation.
We got to the hotel at around 12:45, but the rooms weren't ready yet, so we walked up to a little restaurant that the concierge recommended, Maggie Jones. Since today is Sunday, these little restaurants all have a set "roast" menu. It reminded me of Sunday dinners growing up -- we had roasts frequently on Sundays, and I love thinking about the hundreds of years of traditions that have gone into a nice family sit-down dinner that made it into my little family in America in the 20th century.
Anyway, the restaurant was small and adorable -- it was reminiscent of an old farm house with small rickety stairs, a thick rope for a hand rail, hardly any room to maneuver in, old sturdy wood furniture, and excellent food. I had a venison pate for a first course, then roast lamb for the main course. I haven't had lamb since I was a kid, and I loved the familiar taste of the meat with a little bit of roasted onion and potato, topped with a bit of mint jelly. DE-licious. Dessert was an apple crumble with cream. The apples were perfectly tart, with the crumbly crust sweetened just enough to take the bite out of the apples, then a thick cream over it all to cool it off.
At this rate, I am not going to do very well weight-wise this week, but the airplane food was scant and less than delicious, so it's okay to have one really great meal today, right?
The rooms were ready when we got back, so I lightened my backpack load, armed myself with my camera, and went next door to Kensington gardens and palace. I hadn't planned on visiting the palace proper, probably simply because I didn't realize it was a possibility, but I did end up spending 12 pounds to see the parts that are open to the public. There was a lovely homage to Princess Diana, since she was one of the recent royal occupants, then Apartment 1A where Princess Margaret and Lord Snowden lived during the 60s-70s, then the older stuff about William, Mary, a bunch of the Georges, and even a little about Queen Victoria. It was all very grand and lovely and palatial, as one would expect a, well, a palace to be. It lacked only the cold stone mortars of medieval castles, but I guess that's why it's called a "palace" and not "castle."
Then I walked around Kensington Gardens and got a bit into Hyde Park. It was perfect late afternoon autumn lighting and the trees are all beautifully changing colors. People were out in full force rollerblading, jogging, walking dogs (never once saw one on a leash. Is it possible that British dogs are all as well-behaved as British humans? If they would speak, would it be also with perfect accents and elocution? I imagine so), playing frisbee, feeding the birds, feeding the squirrels (can't wait to upload photos of the cute old man who literally has squirrels eating out of his hand. Charming!), riding bicycles -- it was the perfect, idyllic family Sunday afternoon. It made me happy just being there to see other people's happiness and joy.
It started to get cold and dark at about 4:00 p.m., so I headed back to the hotel where I've been ever since relaxing, ordering room service and watching TV. The show selection is as minimal as I remember it being the last time I was here nearly a decade ago. The majority of the channels appear to be perfect for the typical Arabic or Muslim guest, which I am not, so there are approximately four channels with potential to interest me. I am now watching "The X Factor," which appears to be similar to "America's Got Talent," and the only thing it's helping me to accomplish is wondering why Simon Cowell is so very critical of the American Idol contestants but does not have a bad thing to say to any contestants of this home-town show. Is this British elitism at work? I believe so. There are performs who would get heartily mocked by him if it were American Idol, yet are heavily praised by him on this show. It's all quite perplexing and bewildering, and I mightily hope that there is another viewing option available to me soon.
Sadly, the DVD players are not compatible with my DVDs that I brought, and I don't feel like watching anything on my laptop, so I will continue to complain about the dismal viewing selection.
The good news is that if I can hold off going to bed for at least two more hours, I will have a fine chance of beating jet lag and being ready to tackle on the many meetings that await me tomorrow.
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