Whilst researching this years christmas pantomime at the Everyman i noticed a link to Giffords Circus. Imagine being paid to do this?
If there was ever a circus to run away to, this would be the one. Must put it on my to do list for 2012... not to run away to, (for now anyway)....just to take my 9 year old to, (before he thinks he's too old).
My oldest brother, Mark, just left after a quick visit to see his little sis en-route back to London from Miami. Thank god I have family to keep my on the straight and narrow and keep my feet on the ground.
He served up lots of solid advice along with some good old fashioned giggles, including:
1. Give what every you have decided to do your full attention, half measures don’t cut it.
2. Become an eternal optimist and you won’t just think you are better off, you will be.
3. Ditch Facebook and similar crap and get on with making it happen. (ouch that hurt!). Nothing replaces one on one face to face catch up with REAL friends.
4. Get focused on having some self worth in achievement.
5. Better to fail at something and learn from it, than do nothing at all.
All I could offer in return was a few packets of emergen-c immune boosters and some collidal silver.
3 years today that my Dad passed away. I still cant really believe he's gone. I cant bring myself to delete his name from my phone contacts, and when my step mum calls and the caller id says "Dad" it catches me unawares; I think its going to be him on the end of the phone.
To travel on Thanksgiving day is a dream - I recommend it to everyone. Not only do you get out of all that cooking and eating, you travel with about 25 other people. Check-in was over in seconds, there was a staff to passenger ratio of perhaps 6:1 at security, and the plane was empty! I actually felt a bit sorry for the people in first class who paid 3 times as much for their seat than me, because I got to lie down TOO, (three seats to myself in the middle section all the way to Heathrow. Nice!).
So I arrived fresh as a daisy at 6:55am, and when I emerged from the train at Paddington Station, London was waking up. It was still a little bit dark and that smell hit me. The familiar London smell of diesel and fresh newsprint, or something... I dont really know what creates it, but that smell is very uniquely London.
It's Guy Fawkes night in the UK. An indigenous ceremony where you can legitimately blow stuff up and strike up bonfires without getting into trouble. A pyromaniacs dream!
I love and miss everything about this night. From the toffee apples and sparklers to "Penny for the Guy" collections, to walking through the cold dark night to the huge community bonfire and firework display.
For those who didn't grow up in England, this was the deal: It was 1605 and a group of rebellious restorationists (Roman Catholics) devised a plot to blow up the Houses of Parliament, (which was being run by a bunch of Protestants at the time). The "Gunpowder Plot" was headed up by another chap (his name has never been very important, but he is clearly the smart one), who sends Guy Fawkes to do the dirty work. As he is about to strike the match, Fawkes get caught in the act in the cellars beneath Parliament with 36 barrels of gunpowder and a very guilty look upon his face.
To this day, (although it's is now being eclipsed in popularity by the American holiday, Halloween), people all over England spend the autumn months gathering everything combustible that they can find, to build a huge community bonfire, upon which an effigy of Mr Fawkes is placed and then subsequently burned. The local councils, rotary club or whomever is hosting the night, spend a small fortune on Fireworks and the whole community come to watch, whilst consuming toffee apples, sausages and baked potatoes (customarily under-baked in foil in the embers of the bonfire). Cheers would cry out when the flames finally reached the "Guy". Then the final firework illuminated a message in the sky that usually read "g-o-o-d--n-i-g-h-t" and we would all go home, faces glowing from the heat of the fire and excitement of the evening.
I know it's slightly barbaric to burn someone at the stake, (they were a bit barbaric in the 17th Century), but it's a tradition (and I like traditions), and according to a report on BBC Radio 4 today, Guy Fawkes night is a rapidly dying tradition. Most children haven't a clue about the history of the event, and the streets are no longer filled with kids wheeling around shopping trolleys that contain over-stuffed clothing from their dad's wardrobe, made to look like some geezer from the 1600's, begging for a "penny for the guy". Probably more to to with letting your kids talk to strangers or wander the streets after dark!
What's more, poor old Guy, after enduring 400 years of burnings, has now been replaced by effigies of modern day celebrities such as Jordan/Katie Price and Russell Brand, who funnily enough looks a bit like the original Guy!
So I went up to The Deli today - my husbands business and place where I used to spend quite a lot of time. I was just 24 hours too late for the President.
Yes, yesterday Mr Obama, on his last day of vacation on Martha's Vineyard, took his daughters and niece on a walk-about to Alleys General Store and to Garcia's Bakery and Deli.... And I wasn't there to see it, meet him, OR give him one of Minor Dresses or Jessica's bracelets for Michelle. (Jessica will you please start writing your blog again, so I can put a link up to to here!)
Here he is buying an oatmeal raisin cookie from Nicole (the best one of our summer staff this year -I'm so glad it was her!)....
Even if I had been there yesterday, I couldn't have met the President. I am in no fit state to be presented to "American royalty" right now, as I have a zit developing on my chin - so definitely no photographs! But it was disappointing that Noah, my 7 year old, didn't get to meet Him, (look, I've given him a capital H like they do to God!)... it surely would have been a lifelong memory for my little chap, wouldn't it?
At least his Dad got to meet him - here "He" is posing for a photo with Paul!
Call 508 693 8401 if you want to order any of the newly renamed OBAMA OATMEAL RAISIN COOKIES!!!!
I hope Jessica wont think I’ve gone all “single white female” on her, but doesn’t this picture look completely perfect? I think I would make the ideal mother of a gorgeous little girl like this.
Why is it I am so obsessed with having a daughter? I know the answer to this. It's all about ego. I want to have a child who is just like I was. A carbon copy of myself, the perfect creature, (or at least perfect until about aged 14, when I had a horrible phase), who does exactly what I tell her and who wants to draw, dance, play dolls and shops and clop about in my over-size shoes pretending to me ME! WOW I really do have an ego problem.
It’s sometimes just so painful to think I will never experience that..... there I admitted it.
Today, I felt a strong sense of "turning into my Mother".... I was “pottering” about in the garden … just the very word "pottering” conjures up visions of some elderly lady in her straw hat, deadheading her geraniums. No disrespect at all to my mum, who I by no means see as elderly quite yet ….(you know that don't you Mum!?!)....
A few weeks ago received a notification from one of the PTO mothers, that volunteers were needed for a forthcoming school fundraiser called a “Cake Walk”. If you know what this is, you may as well stop reading now, but if, like me (up to about a week ago at least), you haven’t the foggiest idea what it is … and would like to know…..keep reading.