. . . but just in case anyone needed a visual aid about how our move back to the States went, this is generally how it looked:

Note the various people holding their collective breaths. The screamers. The hair blowing straight back and turning gray at the roots. The sort of shocked horror and also the obvious question mark that is in almost all of our minds about why we ever stepped into this crazy ride. And then look at Mr. Calm there in the back left – making dry gestures at the camera. That’s how we got into it.

It was fitting that this picture was taken in our last week in England. It sums it all up.

We had to go to Legoland in our last week. Of all things. And that was because we had promised our children for months that if they all got their math facts in the correct times we would take them to Legoland at Windsor. And they did it. And so in the last week, when I should have been packing and selling things and scrubbing walls and generally being productive . . . I was off at Legoland being the designated adult that took children on the pukey rides . . . because it was a debt of honor that we couldn’t leave England without paying.

Loads of fun though. I highly reccomend Legoland. Do they have them in the States? I would have thought Legos were an American thing . . . but whatever the case, Legoland at Windsor is a festive little trip.

Favorite comment from the trip: We were going through Loki’s Labyrinth in the Viking Land section. And, because the kids have all seen the Minoan exhibition at the Ashmolean in Oxford a number of times, I said something clever like, “Let’s hope there’s not a minotaur in the center.” At which point my 11 year old son pops off and says in a terribly patronizing way, “There won’t be Mom. This is Danish, not Greek.”

You know – I could try to add a remark or two to this snappy little unit . . . but it actually says it all.

Howdy! I’m literally running past my computer and typing with my left elbow as I pack bins for our move with my other hand, list items on ebay with my foot, and scrub down the walls and clean spots out of the carpet with my other foot. You should see it. Breathtaking. It might also explain why I don’t seem to be making much progress in any of those areas . . .

Anyway, I’m merely stopping in to tell everyone to zoom over to the Fortnightly Purse. I’ve changed things around a bit, and so the giveaway is on another page (a whole extra click you have to go through) . . . however, it’s worth the trip because this time the giveaway is one of the new, not yet released, Amoretti Summer dresses! So head on over to enter!

Also, make sure to notice that we’re now also selling scrap bags of the fabric used in the production – which is loads of fun. So trot along and see it – and meanwhile I will continue my absurd maneuvers here attempting to get ready to move this family across the ocean again! (6th time in 3 years. Not for sissies I’ll tell you that much!)

Well.

3 guesses where Ben and I were invited last night. And no, it wasn’t an end of term Hebrew translation party. Give up? Well, I never would have guessed it either. We were invited by Blenheim Palace to attend an evening of “live music, champagne, and canapés.”

Now – even more shocking than the fact that Ben received this invitation (through a long and rather complicated series of circumstances that aren’t really that exciting) is the fact that he said yes we would go. I was adamantly opposed to the scheme . . . I mean, we clearly don’t belong at an event like that, and I was pretty sure we wouldn’t fool anyone into thinking we did. Plus, who would we talk to?! We didn’t know a soul there. Another problem that I was quick to spot – what on earth do you wear to an evening of champagne and canapés at Blenheim Palace???? Ben doesn’t own a dinner jacket (and he’s about the only man in Oxford who doesn’t I think) and I don’t have a family tiara to bust out. Ben looked squarely at those problems and saw merely an opportunity for free champagne and canapés at Blenheim Palace . . . which he thought looked like a net plus. But, just to humor me, he asked when he RSVPed what the dress was for the evening, and they told him “smart”. That of course led to some extensive googling. We’ve discovered what “smart casual” technically means . . . and for those of you who are interested, it means (for men) tie, jacket,sweater . . . you have to hit 2 out of those 3 things, and I think the collared shirt is assumed. Anyhow, we’ve mastered that one, but what exactly is “smart”? After the googling session we decided Ben would wear a regular suit and tie (quite absurdly, that’s known here as a “lounge suit” and I was quite shocked the first time Ben received a beautiful invitation to an evening event that specified he wear a lounge suit! That was another googling session.) Anyway, I thought I’d wear a dress, but not an evening gown. After Ben decided we would go I dismissed the matter from my mind, and decided that I’d worry about it when the time came. Each day has enough trouble of it’s own you know. Read More

Make sure to trot over to the Fortnightly Purse to enter for a real wing-dinger of an English food product.

However, I think perhaps this whole thing needs to be qualified. I have now gone on the record about two separate English grocery items that are downright weird and pretty much impossible to comprehend. Actually, come to think of it, I’ve probably spouted off about a number of other English products over the last couple of years. Eggs come to mind, and hot dogs.

So perhaps in the interests of fairness, I should pause for a brief moment and spotlight a few items that I LOVE here in England and that I won’t be able to find in America without a lot of effort and toil and expense and bother and frustration. Things I’ll have to import or special order or grow myself or something.

1. Broad Beans
Now, probably a ton of you will instantly reply that you can get broad beans perfectly easily in America and you eat them all the time. However, in Moscow, Idaho, I’m pretty sure that I can’t just grab a whole handful of them at the grocery store whenever I want. If I want them I’ll have to grow them. And I’m also sure that I can’t just buy the seed packet at the grocery store either . . . or even the garden supply. I checked, and the only place I can find the seeds online is from a “rare heirloom seed” sort of mail order place. So even if it’s humanly possible to get broad beans once I’m back at home, I will miss the ease of chucking them into my grocery cart with the milk. They’re in season now, and Judah loves to shell them for me. Then you steam them with asparagus tips, chuck in some cherry tomatoes, toss with a cider vinaigrette, and sprinkle goat cheese over the top, and you have a side dish to die for.

2. Purple Sprouting Broccoli
Same situation applies here. No doubt I could special order the seeds and whatnot. But here I can just grab it for dinner. (Ok, I actually can only grab it here when it’s in season . . . but I don’t think I’ll be able to grab it in season or out of season once I’m home.) This is gorgeous stuff and I’ve gotten heavily addicted. You eat it with the leaves and all . . . boil it first, and then stir fry for a second with olive oil and garlic and red pepper flakes and squeeze a lemon over it and a bit of Maldon salt . . . I’m going to miss this one for sure.

3. Clotted Cream.
I don’t know if there’s any hope for me on this one as I obviously can’t grow it myself. It’s possible that I could spend a lot of time trying to track down and special order it . . . but I bet I won’t. I’ll just sit and mope. Do you see that fabulous golden crunchy crust . . . and the nice oozy cream? There’s nothing comparable at home I’m pretty sure. Maybe you big city people can get it . . . but I’ll be limited to what I can locate in the great metropolis of Moscow. And that means I’ll have to resign myself to missing it.

There are others . . . loads of others as a matter of fact. But I have to go make dinner now. And the rest of you should make sure that you don’t miss the chance to enter for a taste of another of England’s less forgettable foods!

This is just a little something that I need some input on. What we have here is an item I run across frequently at the grocery store. It always catches my eye, and then I always pick it up and have a little ponder about it. I’m still stumped.

It’s a squeezy packet that is located on the shelf with the pasta sauces. It sits all alone there, amidst the bottles and jars of bolognese and puttanesca. There are no other squeezy packets in sight. Just this little loner American One.

The thing that’s always tough for me with this specimen is not just the fact that it’s being chalked up to my country. It’s the ingredients list. You can’t read it in the picture, so allow me to report on what is in this little squeezy packet:

INGREDIENTS: 1) Organic Tomatoes; 2) Organic Pumpkins; 3) Organic Sweetcorn; 4) Organic Orange Juice; 5) Organic Lemon Juice; 6) Organic Garlic

That’s all.

Apparently what you’re supposed to do with this is boil up some noodles or rice or bake a potato. Slap it into a bowl, and then hand both the bowl and the squeezy packet to your your child. They then have the fun of unscrewing the Read More