treefroggirl

posted by Nicole on Apr 22

Saturday morning.

Slept in late.

Scrambled eggs with smoked salmon I brought back from Seattle, (The salmon. Not the eggs.) mushrooms, onions and sundried tomatoes.

Stuart and I sitting in the living room surfing the internet on our his and hers powerbooks.

Coffee.

More coffee.

Sunny, clear spring day.

Even more coffee.

Movies later.

posted by Nicole on Apr 21

I am very lucky that Stuart doesn’t like football. . .

LIST OF RULES

1. From 9 June to 9 July 2006, you should read the sports section of the newspaper so that you are aware of what is going on regarding the World Cup, and that way you will be able to join in the conversations. If you fail to do this, then you will be looked at in a bad way, or you will be totally ignored. DO NOT complain about not receiving any attention.

2. During the World Cup, the television is mine, at all times, without any exceptions. If you even take a glimpse of the remote control, you will lose it (your eye).

3. If you have to pass by in front of the TV during a game, I don’t mind, as long as you do it crawling on the floor and without distracting me. If you decide to stand nude in front of the TV, make sure you put clothes on right after because if you catch a cold, I wont have time to take you to the doctor or look after you during the World Cup month.

4. During the games I will be blind, deaf and mute, unless I require a refill of my drink or something to eat. You are out of your mind if you expect me to listen to you, open the door, answer the telephone, or pick up the baby that just fell from the second floor….it wont happen.

5. It would be a good idea for you to keep at least 2 six packs in the fridge at all times, as well as plenty of things to nibble on, and please do not make any funny faces to my friends when they come over to watch the games. In return, you will be allowed to use the TV between 12am and 6am, unless they replay a good game that I missed during the day.

6. Please, please, please!! if you see me upset because one of my teams is losing, DO NOT say “get over it, its only a game”, or “don’t worry, they’ll win next time”. If you say these things, you will only make me angrier and I will love you less. Remember, you will never ever know more about football than me and your so called “words of encouragement” will only lead to a break up or divorce.

7. You are welcome to sit with me to watch one game and you can talk to me during halftime but only when the commercials are on, and only if the halftime score is pleasing me. In addition, please note I am saying “one” game, hence do not use the World Cup as a nice cheesy excuse to “spend time together”.

8. The replays of the goals are very important. I don’t care if I have seen them or I haven’t seen them, I want to see them again. Many times.

9. Tell your friends NOT to have any babies, or any other child related parties or gatherings that requires my attendance because:
a) I will not go,
b) I will not go, and
c) I will not go.

10. But, if a friend of mine invites us to his house on a Sunday to watch a game, we will be there in a flash.

11. The daily World Cup highlights show on TV every night is just as important as the games themselves. Do not even think about saying “but you have already seen this…why don’t you change the channel to something we can all watch??”, the reply will be: “Refer to Rule #2 of this list”.

12. And finally, please save your expressions such as “Thank God the World Cup is only every 4 years”. I am immune to these words, because after this comes the Champions League, Italian League, Spanish League, Premier League, etc etc.

Thank you for your cooperation.

Regards,

Men of the World

posted by Nicole on Apr 20

I’m working on my work commitments, which is a fancy-dancy way of saying goals. It is a bit more involved than a goal and while on the surface it appears to just be semantics, it does imply a greater ownership that just a goal.

The structure of a commitment is:

Commitment/Execution Plan/Accountabilities

So a commitment might be:

Go to war in Iraq

Execution Plan:

Create a culture of fear.
Link unrelated events that provide an impetus to action
Have a respected former member of the milatary produce cooked evidence.
Have everyone say yellowcake and mushroom cloud. A lot.
Hide from the American people the cost of the war

Accountabilities

Achieve the following US casualties:

2003- 486
2004- 848
2005- 846
2006 YTD- 198

Achieve the deaths of 34,000 to 40,000 Iraqi civilians by April 2006

Prevent the photography of coffins

Never attend a single funeral of a dead serviceman

Demonize the mother of a dead soldier

Use the phrase “evil doers and “they hate us because of our freedom” and “you’re doing a heckuva job (enter name of lunkhead here)”

You got the idea. . .(this was more fun that doing the work one.)

I’ve been looking at the commitments of our US counterparts to get ideas (steal) and one of them made me laugh and scared me.

Maintain work/life balance./

Maintain energy by participating in extracurricular activities, Maintain energy by adopting healthier habits, Foster spiritual life, and maintain proper perspective of what’s important./

Go at least one night a week without checking work email, Work out at least 4x a week; run at least 2x a week, Eat vegetables 2+x a week, Attend church every week, and read Bible at least 5x a week.

I hope that his manager really didn’t approve this.

Reading the bible 5 times a week while admirable is not an appropriate work accountability. And how the hell is a manager suppossed to measure that?

It did make me laugh however.

posted by Nicole on Apr 20

GPS.

I need it.

I can get lost while holding a map. Part of the problem is of course I can’t read maps. I am one of those people that feels like North is always the direction I am facing. I do eventually learn which way is north based on landmarks- In LA and Seattle west was water (although Seattle that meant the sound. Not the lake(s). And if you were in Alki, it just messed the whole thing up. Walking through a building I am never able to visualize what wall is facing what outside without actually looking out a window.

Today I got lost walking back to work from lunch (at the very tasty hummus bros.)

In my defense, London (and Soho especially) has all these little streets snaking around and nothing makes sense and everything looks interesting.

Cut To:

EXT. NARROW LONDON STREET – AFTERNOON

by a Black Cab.

Okay, that didn’t happen. The being hit by a Black Cab part. Or the worrying about being mugged part. Odds are you won’t be mugged in Soho. You are far more likely to have your handbag nicked while you sit in a restaurant or the pub.

The tripping part also didn’t happen. That came later when my shoe caught on the door on the lift.

But, yes. I need GPS. If they make one with a Samuel L. Jackson voice I’ll get that.

“Turn Left Motherfucker!”

posted by Nicole on Apr 19

David recommended Watching The English a few months ago and I have only now started to read it.

Vol mentioned it a few posts back regarding the landmines an unsuspecting foreigner could get into while discussing the weather with a Brit.

Reading it, I immediately see things that I have done terribly wrong according to this book. Things like shake someone’s hand with confidence and introduce myself. Apparently that isn’t done. It is also considered rude to ask what people do or where they live.

Such land mines.

Areas I have down almost as if I was from here, the invisible queuing at the pub and the pantomime with the publican, the please and thank you’s when exchanging money, saying sorry when someone bumps into you and never speaking or looking at others if you can help it on public transportation.

The longer I am here, the more I feel part of it, yet also further away from it, from the culture. Does that make sense? The more I know, the more I know I don’t know type of thing. . .

posted by Nicole on Apr 18

I’m old. I discovered it today. I’ve suspected it for some time, but today I was provided definitive proof.

It’s not because my knees creak as much as Paris Hilton’s bed springs.

It’s not because I am working on a Bonnie Raitt, Susan Sontag streak of grey.

It’s not because I actually have Gregorian Monks chanting on my iPod.

I’m old because today, I tut-tutted a young girl on the street.

I had to return my videos so I got off the tube at Clapham South and along the high street there were three kids, I’m guessing twelve – thirteen years old. One was on a bike and he kept popping wheelies the way twelve-year-old boys do. His breaks had more squeak than stop. His friends, two girls, were walking along side him. One of the girls had Icelandic white blond hair and violent blue eyes and was at least a year away from filling out her training bra. She was holding a bag of crisps (potato chips) sprinkling them along the street. At one point she looked back at me, grabbed another handful of potato and Hanseled and Gretled it along the high street.

When the bag was empty she stuck it into the metal wire cage around a tree.

I couldn’t help myself. I called out to her, “Is that a trash can?”

She turned. “Wah?”

I think my saying trashcan is what got her attention.

“Is that a trashcan?” I fished the bag out from the wire and handed it to her. “Go toss it in the rubbish bin.”

She turned away from me, toward the rubbish bin, but she had to get a last word. She ripped the bag in half, let one bit flutter onto the street putting the twin into the bin.

I have to say, I was rather impressed. As non-verbal improv fuck you’s go, it was nice. Well done little slapper on the dole in training. Well done.

When she turned down her street, she turned around and looked at me, her eyes narrowed.

I narrowed mine back.

I was thinking, “Little bitch.”

She was thinking, “Fat cow.”

So yes. I am old. Any day I will start screaming, “In my day, we walked to school in our polyester bell bottoms tying yellow ribbons round the old oak tree!”

Sigh.

posted by Nicole on Apr 16

So the boys are off in Porto doing the trip that I organised, Preston has a sleep in shift and I am here with no food in the house and the grocey stores are closed.

This sucks ass.

My plan had been to cook a little Easter dinner for myself. Not that I am a Christian but I will take any excuse to eat a baby sheep. I thought that they might have a few hours of being open in the morning like they do in America but Stuart told me that I was wrong so I didn’t even try to go look.

The pub should be open though right? Well. Right. I’m just going to have to turn that frown upside down.

I’m going to have a bath then get something to nibble on and a pint at The Duke of Devonshire where I will finish reading Anna Karenina- one of the things I love about this country is that the pub is like a coffee house. You can go as a woman alone and not be messed with. . . (for the most part.)

Then for dinner I am going to have sushi. Yes, a sushi Easter dinner. We got a reccomendation from a friend visiting from Germany about one in our neck of the woods in Tooting Bec – Fugisan.

Is better than sitting at home eating the Stuart’s chocolate that he foolishly left behind.

Pub lunch, one pint, two pints, sushi, sake, finishing a great book, starting a book to be named later, time by myself. . .

What was I moaning about before?

posted by Nicole on Apr 16

I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.

I whinged about my knees a few weeks ago.

Cliff notes: They snap. They crackle. They pop. My knees are Rice Krispies.

Except different.

I am slowly making my way down the stairs in the dark to go to the loo. I’m reading the stairs with my feet looking for the Braille signs for the landing while I clutch the banister like an old woman.

I miss a step.

I fall back on my ass to the sound of snap, crackle, pop and pain. A good bit of pain.

I’m rather glad that Preston didn’t open the door of her room to see me spread out on the stairs, my dressing gown all kerfuffled.

In a word. Pretty? Not so much.

I’m adding swimming to the list of things I need to start doing.

I suppose if they get really bad, I could just have my legs amputated at the knee, but I am short enough as it is.

posted by Nicole on Apr 15

I’m exhausted but I am home.

I’m exhausted but I know that this is now home.

It’s a nice feeling.

posted by Nicole on Apr 14

I feel great today.

Perfect timing to get on a plane and get jet lag again. At least I have an aisle seat.

They took us to dinner last night to a lovely little Italian restaurant so any Seattleites that want to drive to Bellevue, I strongly reccommend Firenze.