Amy Comes to Visit!

Last week my dear friend and co-favorite college roommate, Amy, came to visit.  And we had some much needed girl time. Truth be told I'm still lacking in the girl friend department in England so I am pretty sure I talked Amy's ears off.  Yes both of them.  But luckily, seeing as she is our 12th visitor to England, I'm getting pretty damn good at this tour guiding thing.  If only the British weather would cooperate a little better.  

Here's a rundown of our week in pictures....

The first night we went for a sundown walk in the Peak District.

Picturesque, No?

Then we went to Chatsworth.  Again.  

I love Chatsworth though so thats OK.  Especially the gardens.  

They don't get old.

The of course we had to go to London.  

We stayed in a very cheap girls only hostel which I can highly recommend

 for poor female travelers called Piccadilly Guest House.

 The plan was to see the major tourist spots, but England had other ideas.  

So shortly after this was taken we headed off to Harrods where they were having a sale!  

Hurrah!

We had dinner at my favorite restaurant in all of England, Bumpkin, then we went off to the West End to see Dirty Dancing. Ohhh Johnny!  No one puts baby in the corner!

When we came back to Sheffield I took Amy for a little more English countryside action.  

I love the Peak District.  

It's God's country (according to the locals anyways.)  

I must say I agree... at least when the sun is shining.  

I made a lil picnic.

 But then we had to go home because my hair was just not cooperating.  

Forrealz.

But not before Heidi pissed off a herd of sheep.  Eeeeeeeeeek!  

Sheep are creepy sometimes.

But then we saw these cute little baby horses on the way home.  

Awwwwww.  I love country life.

And then Amy and I passed out.

Note:  While we were curled up uncomfortably on the couch Heidi was in my bed.  

Typical.  

I take this to mean I was a successful tour guide.  

ps.  I didn't include pictures of our spa day at Harrogate Turkish Baths .  (this is due to the fact that there were looooooooooads of naked ladies wandering around and taking photos would have been totally inappropriate... fyi the English are so much more comfortable than Americans with nudity.)  But besides the fact that Amy and I were somewhat uncomfortable with nudies, and we creepily checked out the more ample hair styles sported by the very self assured British ladies, we had a wonderful time at the beautiful spa and this is certainly going on the guest list itinerary.  

Miss you already, Amy!

And thanks to Mr. and Mrs. N for buying her plane tickets!  What would we do without our parents?!

Pancake Tuesday

Well all you Christian folks out there are probably gorging yourselves right now in honor of 

Fat Tuesday.  

I hope you find the baby too if you're into that.  

Anyways I'd like to share a little cultural difference with you today.  

In England, Fat Tuesday is more commonly known as Pancake Tuesday, 

and also known as "Shrove" Tuesday.

Who knows wtf a shrove is?

Anyone?

Me either - so I dictionaried it.

 shrove

n shrove [ʃrouv]

the first day of Shrovetide.

Right....  Shrovetide.  

That clears it up.  

Sometimes I wonder if they actually are speaking English in England.

But thats besides the point, what I really wanted to address is this...

Pancake vs. Crepe

In England, they seem unable to distinguish between pancakes and crepes.

Usually using the term "pancake" to mean either crepes OR pancakes.

So I just wanted to clarify...

This is a pancake...

And this is a crepe...

(forgive the crap photo this was taken when I started my blog...)

OK, glad I have gotten that off my chest.

British people spend all of "Pancake" Tuesday

talking about eating pancakes, but they're actually eating crepes.

Come on England, let's learn the difference.

Anyways, are you giving anything up for Lent?

I'm giving up cheeeeeese!

But I might make a little exception next week when 

my parents and my sister come to visit!

I'm currently working on planning the best itinerary for splitting their time between London and Sheffield for their first ever UK visit.  

I am really excited to show them where I have been living.

Now I'm just trying to think of good Dad friendly activities,

the poor man always ends up shaking his head

 while he sees his credit card bill blow up in front of his face.

Any suggestions?

Becoming English

Lately I have noticed that I am becoming more and more English...

• I will now run down the street for public transportation... though I rarely catch it.
• I frequently use the word "quite" as a qualifier.  As in, "That is quite lovely." 
• I have serious cravings for marmite.
• I can translate the sentence, "I was sat here 10 while 2."
• I can also translate the sentence, "You're having a giraffe."
• And I know what "Take the piss" means.  
• Not to be confused with the phrase, "I'm pissed" which does NOT mean you're angry.
• I no longer leave the house in sweat pants, a hoody and gym shoes (unless I'm walking the dog)
• I can watch British sitcoms and actually get / laugh at the jokes.  
• I can use British coins without thinking too hard.  
• The volume at which I speak has decreased exponentially, and I realize when I slip back into my "American volume."  
• Forget about the weather, the best way to strike a conversation up with a British person is to have a common complaint.  The bus late?  Works every time.

However, I still can't...

• Hang the laundry out to dry like a real Bitish wife without it getting rained on.  (Truth be told I gave up on this and we bought a tumble dryer.)
• Speak Yorkshire-ish enough for bus drivers to understand me.
• Pronounce my name in a way so that people don't think it is, "Kerry" or "Kylie."
• Make British style jokes.  For some reason my sense of humor is completely lost in translation.
• Example : Today at work (note : I work on the cash register in a little university convenience store) every time someone purchased a pop and a candy bar before 10 am I called it "The breakfast of champions."  Never even got a smile.  At least I think I'm funny....
• Understand thick Yorkshire accents, especially those of old men.  
• Get used to the grey/rainy/SAD inducing weather.  
• Find a decent restaurant outside of London.  (British food just sucks.  Sometimes stereotypes are true. 
• Be politically correct enough.

Thats all I can think of for now

For those of you living away from "home", what little milestones have you reached?

And what milestones are you still trying to reach?

Tea and Cupcakes

So about that Cleanse....

My friend, Sarah, was here until yesterday, and it didn't go so well.

I'm not sure whether she is a bad influence on me... or I am a bad influence on her.

But we are definitely a bad influence on each other.

But you only live once right?

And I had to take her to Cocoa.

It's just the cutest place ever.

I know you've seen it before.

yawn.

But it just makes me happy.

So here it is again....

We drank so much tea!

I felt little crack headish after my

2,398th cup.

Can you tell?

I think Sarah did too.

When in Rome, eh?

If you come visit me I'll take you here too.

Promise.

ps.  I missed you this week, blogosphere.

pss. That shirt I'm wearing is the first thing I've bought from a thrift store - part of number 80 on my 100 things to do list.  What do you think you fashionista bloggers - cute or totally grandma-ish?

Can I Get a Beep Beep?

Hi Friends,

Living in a place like England, sometimes the cultural differences are so subtle that besides the accents, you might not think there are any.  The truth is, there are plenty, they are just hidden a bit below the surface.

Take for instance, the cat call.  I'm sure you pretty girls (and some of you pretty boys) are familiar with it.  I for one, am a fan of the cat call.  That's right.  I will admit it.  I like the cat call.  I take pride it in, actually.  When I lived in Chicago, and I was feeling blue, I knew specific roads I could run down that were sure to get me a flattering beep beep from an anonymous passerby.  The release of endorphins and knowing someone out there was honking in approval at my less than perfect bod was sometimes just the right thing to turn my day around.

I look just like this when I run.... 

Now in England, the cat call is less prevalent and when it does occur, it takes on a different form.  I don't know whether I have just lost my sexy running swagger since getting married, but I have not had any honk honks from male drivers since moving here.  Not even on the surefire busy roads.  However, although it occurs significantly less frequently than the double beep, sometimes men with bad English teeth do pull over the side of the road to hit on me.  This morning for example, I was walking down a narrow lane with Heidi, and a car passed by.  As he drove by he said "Good morning.  I love you." Whaaaaaaaaaaaat?  LOVE?  I'm not looking for love here, fella.  Plus the fact that we have spoken means your have lost your anonymity and now I KNOW you are a gross old man and there is no mystery in the fact that there might just be a mega hottie like David Beckham or Prince Harry (my personal fave) behind the windshield.  No.  I do not like this.

Via

So my American ladies, take pride when you get a double beep.  Appreciate the flirtatiousness, revel in the mystery, and know that you are banging.  Be pleased that you can be flattered often and from a distance, and not infrequently and in your personal space.  And for my international readers, just because you're not in America getting honked at doesn't mean you're not pretty.

Beep Beep!

Cultural Difference : Appliances

Owning appliances in England just isn't considered the absolute necessity that it is in America.  I'm not talking about appliances like a Kitchen-aid, I'm talking dishwashers and clothes dryers.  Yes, that's right dishwashers!  Nick never had a dishwasher growing up and I can't remember life without one.  We finally got one put into his old house, and then we moved.  Our rental property does not have a dishwasher and nor do most the houses we're looking at buying right now.


I HATE this fact.  I'm not a fan of dishpan hands.  Call me a lazy American if you will, and yes I'm not the domestic diva that I wish I could be, but seriously, would you like standing over the sink for at least 45 minutes a day doing yesterdays dishes, sweating as you immerse your yellow rubber gloved hands into the hottest water possible, scraping congealed orange juice off of glassware and cooked on tidbits from pots and pans?  Yeah, thats what I thought.  


Now get this, my husband told me recently that he didn't even have a washing machine until he was 18!!  18!!! You think you know somebody, and then they tell you something like that!  Apparently he had what he calls a "spinning machine"  which he described as a massive salad spinner but for your clothes.  Whaaaaaaaaaaaaat?  Have you ever heard of such a thing?!  It sounds like something those Little House on the Prairie people would use.  I've never even heard my parents talk about not having a washing machine, and that sounds just like the sort of "when I was your age..." type of shit my dad loves to spew when telling my sisters and I how spoiled we are.  


Now you may be wondering just how old my husband is seeing as it sounds like he grew up decades before me....  You must be thinking I'm a gold digger after all his moolah when he kicks the bucket right?  Well he's 27.    


The thing is, in a third world country you would expect this kinda crap.  But England is supposed to be pretty on par with America.  So let me just say, respectfully, England...

GET WITH THE PROGRAM!