I think I’m turning Scottish. It’s true. Been sleeping too long next to a Scot and it’s rubbing off. Consider this, today I suggested a venue for lunch based on a voucher. My friend wanted to go to a restaurant that unfortunately didn’t have a 2-for-1 coupon, and sensing my frugality, she offered to …
We woke up to nearly five inches of snow covering our garden, the trees, the rooftops. It was really quite magical. Like being on holiday. But it’s Thursday, a school day, and we were not in the Alps. We were waiting for the email from school. Would it, wouldn’t it, would …
I was harrassed into this by Emma, Bush Mummy, More than Just and Mother, Everyday Mama Drama and Home Office Mum. I didn't want to do it. But here it is. A random photo of me and my brood. It seems like just yesterday. Living large in La Jolla (pre credit …
Wow, the air is thick with meme-awards. Can't you just hear them speeding around cybersphere. Click. Click. You're. It.
They come in all shapes and sizes: happy, honest, lovely, and close. Charming, dramatic, admirable and most.
I can't keep up with them all. So what's a Modern Mother to do? I've made up my own meme, except it's a memo, to myself, about all these damned memes.
Although I didn't know it at the time, my obsession started with an old black trunk that sat abandonded in the corner of the attic.
"Is that yours," I asked my future husband, who had the business acumen to buy this large Edwardian house in a popular market town in the Chilterns before the boom and before he had the family to fill it. I pointed to a worn metal trunk that rested on part of the attic that had no floorboards, only bare beams. A cat could easily scamper over to it and take a lazy nap, and obviously so could a spider. It was thick with dust and webs.
"No, that was there when I moved in," he said, humphing another one of my empty suitcases into place. I had just traded in my single San Francisco life for one with this man in this house. "I'll have to get a board from Jewson's to get over there," he quickly offered, already able to read my mind.
I love my Scottish husband. I would do anything for him. Give up my career, spend my days wiping dirty bottoms, make endless meals from morning ’till night. But I absolutely, resolutely refuse to eat haggis. Never will a forkful of that oatmeal/lamb innards mixture pass my lips. I don’t care if it …
I hate Fridays. Those that regularly read my rants also know I don’t like Thursdays. No, I don’t despise every day of the week. It’s just on Fridays I’ve seem to have developed a child intolerance. Especially in the morning. I wake up with a severe aversion to those cute little girls who …
Where were you when President Barack Hussein Obama was inaugurated?
I was four when Neil Armstrong first set his human foot on the moon. That July day in California was also my youngest brother’s baptism and my parents had invited several people over to celebrate. My dad put the television outside because of the heat and every chair we owned was around it, full of relatives and friends marveling over the thought of capturing the moon.
I was snuggled on my dad’s brother’s lap when Armstrong’s broken voice articulated those famous words, “one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind.”
“You’ll remember this day,” my uncle whispered in my ear,” and he gave me a squeeze.
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