Monday 29 December 2008

Okay, I've been sick for the past three days, and I figured that if I was going to wallow about in a state of sinus stuffed, burning throat hell, I might as well try to be as productive as I could in my weakened condition. I needed a project to keep me from having to be around granny, that wasn't stressful, that I could do in bed in a half comtose state. Enter The Happy Hooker , Debbie Stoller's accompaning book to her hit on knitting, Stitch and Bitch.
While I'm still waiting on my knitting supplies to arrive (my goal in life is still to learn to make mittens!), I figured I'd try out some of the crochet goodies. Yay for project 1!




There is totally a turkey death matching going on outside our house just now. And it's intense. If only my brother were here, we'd be eating fresh turkey for dinner tonight. Because we're that coutry, folks.


Sunday 28 December 2008


I've been home now for about 3 weeks, and so far, the waters have been mostly calm. Most of that, I feel, is due to Scottie being here, causing everyone to act on their best behaviour and, more importantly, keeping me away from dealing with that thing known as Grandma.

I had to take care of my granny for 3 months before she and my family moved to Boonies Nowheresville (pop. rumoured to be just under 2,000- I went to high school with more people!) and life was almost hell. Seriously, I don't think I drank more in Scotland or University than I did in those 3 short months.

Anyway, Scottie is sadly leaving me on the 31st to get back in time to work while i have to bide my time here waiting for my Visa (hopefully) to arrive. And I have a feeling that once he's gone, Granny is going to get pawned off on me. Again.

Things she has done so far:
Granny's dentures no longer fit her shrunken head, and she has a penchant to talk whilst chewing her food, causing projectile missiles of half-masticated dinner and lord knows what kind of gunk that has been sitting for months or years in the crevices of her fake chompers to spray in the listeners' general direction. For the record, those bits can fly distances!

She is by far the snoopiest, nosey-est, curious busybody that ever existed! "What are doing?" "Where are you going?" "Why did you come back at 3 instead of 4?" "Why are you watching this programme?" I have been crocheting the same shawl for 3 weeks now, and every night i pick up my hook, I get the same "What are you working on now?"

Granny is shafted down to the bedroom at the very end of the house, which is nice for the rest of the family because she is annexed out where no one has to deal with her. She has her own large screen HD TV, Satellite, Radio, newspaper, cat, and glass door out to the garden so she can watch her birds. But she still insists on exercise, so every now and then she'll thump her way down the long hallway to the living room, cane knocking against the walls as she waddles along. I've noticed that she tends to do this along when we are all watching TV together, or if she wants a snack. If we're all watching TV, then she interrogates us about what we're watching and how it reminds her a book or an article she once read on the same subject, and if we hold on, she'll go get it, except that she read it a while ag0, and can't remember if she still has the book or article, or if she gave it away.......and on it goes until we get irritated enough and shoo heR away.

When she comes in for a snack, though, she is as quiet as can be, trying to ninja in and out without being seen. This is because granny has some bad habits. First of all, she wants to nibble everything, so there will always be half a slice of bread in the bread bag, half a cookie laying around, half a bit of cheese, half a bagel, bits of halves all over the place. Secondly, she has this thing with margarine. I noticed it a lot when I lived with her-she doesn't really use knives to get the margarine out of the tub, instead she dips her pointer, middle, and ring finger into the soft buttery spread and then uses her fingers to smear the margarine on her half piece of bread. You can tell by the three parallel ditches left in the tub as evidence.

The last thing I'll reveal before boring everyone is her strange bathroom habits. The other reason granny is annexed down to the end of the hall is because directly across from her room is a bathroom. Technically it's meant for her room and my room to share, but ever since granny moved in, it's been firmly hers. This is because granny has incredibly bad IBS and has the runs a lot. A LOT a lot. But sometimes I'll pop in there to use the mirror or brush my hair. And that's when I notice that there always seems to be quite a bit of dirty water in the toilet, but never any toilet paper. Then I realised that for the past few months, every since finding out that this half of CA is in drought, granny has been going potty, wiping her bum, and...throwing the dirty paper in the trash can instead of the toilet. Now, I remember back when we were having a drought and the rhyme "If it's yellow it's mellow, if it's brown, flush it down", but NOTHING about disposing your IBS soiled paper in the trash can for weeks before having it emptied...no wonder there are always so many flies buzzing around that end of granny's room!

Wednesday 24 December 2008

I am officially documented! Yesterday Scottie and I went down to the good ol' passport support office in West Sacramento and they took all my fingerprints. I ahve to say, I was quite impressed with my bad ass skills at driving sans map and with Scottie as my co-pilot.

Not that I am dissing his navigational skillz, but the poor kid just can't really give directions. Thank Jebus I gave myself an hour to find the place! We started out early because Scottie wanted to find a Borders, thanks to having read all of his reading material at the ranch for lack of anything else to do here. The mystical shopping place was located somewhere just before Sacramento city, and I managed to get there, even with the signs being written in minescule lettering. After a brief lunch of Subway (where I told the dude Southwest Sauce and he gave me Sweet Onion...wha?) we were on our way.

"Okay, now do a U-Turn."
'No need, the U-turn was to get us onto Turxel, but they had a light there, so I did a left turn...don't worry, we're on Turxel now"
'Are you sure? No! You passed it, Truxel is down that way!"
"No, the signs correlate to direction...so if you see a road sign running parallel to the road you are on, then you are on that road...the signs that cross the road are for the streets that run perpendicular to the road you are on.'
"That makes no sense, American has crazy streets"
"No, dear, it works the same in the UK"
"No it doens't."

And it got worse from there.

"Okay, now turn onto Reed Ave."
"Already did that"
"What? When?"
"At that stop light. I turned left, quick, what are the next directions"
"Um, oh, you should have turned back there."
"What?!?! you're sure? Okay, let me find a place to U-Turn."

After pulling into where I was directed, we searched in vain for the passport building. 795, 800, 820, 830, 840- but no 825.
By now I was kinda freaking out because I really don't like being late for legal things, especially ones concerning my passport and visa. But we had a half hour. After searching in and searching, I finally asked to see the directions.

'Honey, the directions say to say on Reed, and that Reed veers to the left and becomes Riverside"
"Yeah, and you said you turned left. "
"Yes, but that was step 3. Step 4 is Reed veers to the left and becomes Riverside. We're not on Riverside. We need to go back onto Reed and stay on it until it turned into Riverside."
'Oh."

Internal head smacking and deep breathing ensued.

But in the end, it all worked out and I was literally in and out in 3 minutes- and that includes the bathroom break!

The next step was to find Old Town Sacramento. I had been there once when I was 10 on a school fieldtrip to the capitol, and I figured it would be a fun mini-trip to take Scottie to now that we were in the area. Trouble was, the directions were fracked. Google maps failed me, and after instrucing me to take Jefferson Blvd, it said to go straight. But Jefferson ended in a stoplight for left or right. I picked the left since there were loads of holiday flags on that side, and just wandered about. I figured that Sacramento couldn't be bigger than Santa Rosa, if even that size, and lo and behold, I ended up taking a ramp that led me right to Old Town parking. We wandered the wee shops along Old Town and had some Frozen youghurt before loading up on Jelly Bellys and Salt Water Taffy and heading back home. With no idea how to get home, we had to rely on my kick ass directions skills, and after only one wee mis-turn that had us heading towards Reno on 80, we managed to get back to the 5 and homewards. Whoot!!!

Moral of story: women drive and do better when they give themselves directions.

Friday 19 December 2008

Man, being back home has made me lazy. Because my day either revolves around driving crazy granny around to places she thinks she recognises, or sitting on the couch crocheting, I have had nothing really to write about. So today, I'll go with eyes.

I have a friend who is only 2 years older than me and wrote a "I shoulda, coulda, woulda' list. This list (I'm sure to be ongoing), was of all the regrets she had when she was younger, and while there weren't too many (she's only 26), one of them was "I should have started using eye cream earlier". What? At 26? But then, who am I to ignore the "Man, I wish I...when I was younger" advice. But eye cream? Most of those are targeted at people like my mom-

So then here's the crux- do I cave in, listening to the advice of my older friend, and end up spending hundreds a year (seriously, those eye creams are like $30 and last like a month!), or do I laugh it off as a genetic flaw that my friend has and refuse to give a cent of my hard saved money to the booming cosmetic conglomerates until I'm at least 30.

Preemptive assault, or waste of money?

So I got to searching. I read somewhere that Evening of Primrose oil is nature's pure and natural way to save your eyes and make you 1,000 years younger, so I went out and did what I could- I found a bottle of evening of primrose capsules for ingestion and tried poking them with a safety pin, then spreading the viscous oil inside. First thing I noticed was the smell. So did Scottie. And while I only used it a few nights and thus have no idea how well it will/did/can work, I think it might be one that I used only when I have a cold.

Next came the store-bought creams. But a lot of them where zonks expensive and contained Parabens- and thanks to a Channel 4 programme on how toxic we're making ourselves (plus the archaeological insider knowledge I have that bodies these days are decomposing slower than they were 100 years ago due to all the preservitives we are eating/absorbing) I am trying my bestest to avoid parabens as much as humanly possible.

Having failed at the pure oil and at store bought creams, I started looking at the posh ones. Clinique, Origins, Estee Lauder....
But then I saw the the list of ingredients filled not one, not two, but 3 sides of the packaging! What?!? Now while I'm not exactly an all natural, all organic health freak, I am wary of putting something with 2,943 ingredients on my face next to my eye. So that was a negative.

I have a feeling that this will be something that I am going to obsess over for probably the next 2 decades, by which time I will probably have stressed myself out so much that my face will look like I should have been using eye cream way back in my twenties.

Friday 12 December 2008

I really hope that they invent teleporters really soon because I frickken hate looooooooong boring plane rides.

My honey and I left his aunt's house at 7 am for the airport, curtsy of a magic ticket Scottie's dad gave us for the taxi there (read: 30 quid). We checked in, popped up to Pret for a cold breakfast baguette, and then made our way to the gate. Naturally stopping by to get my dad a duty free bottle of Whiskey. Yay one x-mas pressie done!

The atlantic flight across was HEAVEN! I am SO the luckiest girl in the world. Because we were traveling standby, we managed to gleen our way into 1st class. That meant I could stretch out, wrap myself up in a nice cozy blanket, watch 30 different films on my own private viedo screen, and douse myself in free Bloody Marys, Gin and Tonics, Champagne, Amarettos, etc. Heaven. I totally felt like the cat who got the cream, but 10 hours have never flown by so quickly.

Not as lucky for part two of the journey. American Air only flies into Sacramento from Dallas, and this time around we were lucky enough to get the last two seats in the plan- at the far back jobbie hole. Honey's window looked out on the turbine, so there was no point in even having the screen open. 4 hours. And no food. I made that free drink laaaaaaaaast.

Finally, after 21 hours of solid travel, honey and I fell into Sac airport, my dad showed up a half hour later, and we were off home. An hour after that we finally were home.

Now I am nothing but fat. My mom went all out and we had Pizza, crisps, bowls of left over halloween chocolate (like who the hell could come trick or treating waaaaaaay out in the boonies?), coke, seven up, cookies (two kinds!)...ah welcome back to junk food nation.

First thing I did was get car insurance and phone set up. Done and done. But only two days into our stay here....is it wrong that grandma is already making me mental?

Stay tuned, as I am sure that crazy grandma antics will follow...that or I loose it and kill her.

Monday 8 December 2008

I LOVE Christmas in Edinburgh! Edinburgh manages to perfectly balance festive taste with fantasy wonder without tripping into the tacky quagmire of giant blow up santas in Styrofoam snow globes. I also think that the Christmas spirit looks amazing on some of the old Georgian architecture that dominated the New Town. This is of the Bank, a very posh cocktail bar that used to be...a bank! There's just something about fairy lights that somehow reminds me of late 18th and early to mid19th century ambiance. Even though they totally didn't exist back then.

The one thing that the UK lacks that the US totally dominated on is the gross decking out of private homes in Christmas lights. I remember how my family used to bundle into the station wagon to go driving around town to see what the locals had done to their lawns. Santa Rosa has a section called Snowman Lane, named because every year, the residents deck out the whole place in awash of Christmas cheer.
However, now that my parents have moved to the absolute boonies of hell, there are no lights, only cows.

I've been lucky enough to split Christmases between the UK and the US for the past 4 years, but this year will be something new. Since my parents moved house in August, the new place they moved into has been theirs. This will be the first winter I've spent there, and the first Christmas that our family has spent Christmas together there (last year was technically the first, but due to my mom's donkey committing suicide, my flight across was deemed less important, so magically my plane ticket turned into mom's new donkey...wankers).

Can ya tell I'm bitter? Anyway, trying not to dwell on Benedict Arnold parents, I am so looking forward to going home again. I am drooling over the idea of Outlet Malls (gross, I know, but I only own one pair of jeans and Levis over here are equivilent to like $140!), SUSHI BUFFET!, and my car...or at least the idea of what my car represents- the ability to go somewhere without needing to walk 10 minuts, take a train, a bus, another bus, and another 20 minutes walk to get anywhere new. God, and my friends! I miss them SO much. I know I have the most amazing friends in the UK, but there are a core group of very special people back in the States who I talk to every couple months, but I fail miserably at talking and am much more of a sensing/physical person.

Anyway, me and the Scot head out tomorrow at 2 for the Big Smoke, then take off Wednesday morning for operation enter the US. Cannae wait!

Wednesday 3 December 2008

Attention McEwan Hall: Will the ass face who STOLE my jacket at the graduation ceremony please be decent and return it? It's -2 outside, if you hadn't noticed. Thanks.

Yes, that's right. Today I proudly graduated from one of the most prestigious universities in Britain with a Masters degree, during which some douche face ass stole my jacket. I arrived early to check in and get my Harry Potter-esque robes and receive my seating card. Row 40, seat 2. Awesome. Then, since you couldn't wear a jacket or anything with the robe, I followed the advice of the robing crew and left my jacket on the back of my chair. Someone else had also left their kit on my chair. A red hand bag and a matching red pea coat. 'Hmmm', I thought, 'Obviously they are mistaken since this is my seat, but I will put my jacket down next to the person who so trustingly left their handbag and it will be fiiiiiine.' Ha. I no sooner set my coat down then my friend called me to meet her by the enterance. So I did. I was gone for literally 7 minutes. When I returned, my jacket was GONE. I ran around the entire hall asking everyone with a red coat and matching red handbag if they had accidentally picked up a black jacket by mistake, but to no avail. It was gone. I told the ushers to keep and eye out for it. I returned 3 times between 10 and 5 to ask if it had be turned in. Nothing.

Either a graduate or their parent STOLE my coat. Wankers.

Luckily, my wonderful Scottie filled me up with first a Bloody Mary followed by a wonderful St. Francis bottle of merlot from Santa Rosa, my old home town. And wonderful Scottie only had one glass, meaning I consumed the rest of the bottle.

I am so knackered/drunk now.

Fuck people to steal your shit! Thank god for this wine blanket which kept me warmish on the walk home THROUGH THE ICE.

Monday 1 December 2008

Okay, so maybe I pinched this photo from somewhere else, but holy McFrackFace it is COOOOOOOLD!

Worst idea ever: Wearing high heeled boots (bloody work attire) during a frost storm. I had to literally walk on my tip toes on icy pavements of death while trying desperately not to slip and fall into either oncoming traffic or on my arse. Tomorrow is a solid sole boot day, and damn work attire!

Everything is white. The cars, the sidewalks, the railings. And yesterday it dipped into -5C...which is 23F for those in the US. Everyone has been saying that it's too cold to snow. In my head, cold is not worth existing unless it can be paired with snow.

In other more exciting news, I GRADUATE from my post-grad degree in 1 day!! This means a 4 days work week.. and oh yeah, one day is already done. Booyah!

The unfair part: Guys get to wear their kilts, but girls have to wear either black trousers or skirts with a long sleeved collared shirt. I say discrimination! You can get away with a hideous yellow or florescent pink tartan if you're a guy, but girls are stuck with boring black and white. The rebellious part of me almost wants to wear my pink and purple mini-kilt in defiance.

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