Back to "normal", turning 39, my Friday call and other musings...

I'm happy to report I am back home, without 3-4 phone calls per night, without dread and worry of wondering what the Lord has in store, and with my mother fully and completely a true miracle. I know our distance has made it difficult for some of us to get to know each other, which is the main reason I LOVE reading your blogs, seeing pics and getting to know my cousins. One thing I can say, and anyone who knows me will tell you, I'm not one to exaggerate and FAR FAR from a drama queen. I am a realist.

And when I got a phone call on 23 June from the Dr at Banner Thunderbird that my mother had a brain hemmorage and wasn't expected to live, what do you want us to do and what are her resusitation orders, I had to get a grip faster than ever in my life. Through a choking throat, I told the Dr that I would get there as soon as possible, that she is a DNR if flatlined, but to keep her on life support until I got there. Immediately after hanging up, everything I've ever thought about my testimony, every thread of faith I ever sewed and every drop of trust I could muster, I fell to my knees, collapsed on my bed and sobbed to my Father in Heaven to please not let her suffer and His will be done. This was my test.

It was the hardest prayer I have ever given.

I won't go into a lot of detail and some detail is not for a blog. Suffice it to say, she is a miracle. She was in a coma for 8 days, 12 days in intensive care, 2 days regular room and 14 days in rehab with no lasting neurological effect. She is the same Donna as ever. I am blessed with a workplace that puts family first and without hesitation not only granted me the time off I needed to travel to America twice, but with full pay. I was met by the 2 best friends anyone could ask for, not members, but have mastered the teachings of the Good Samaritan. They insisted I drive their car, stay in their home, and have a haven of peace to come home to each day.

Mom is doing well and we are putting the whole thing behind us. She and I cannot thank enough the outpouring of prayers and love, for those who have contacted me and those I know who were thinking about and praying for us. People came from everywhere, not only family but people from old wards, people I had known for years, people from work, school, etc... I've never experienced anything like it. Blessings were attained and testimonies strengthened. Even a missionary seed or two planted.

Last Thursday I turned 39. I guess I'm peculiar but I've never had any problem telling my age. For some reason, I just don't care. I am what I am, and I know I'm young at heart and mind, and often people comment that I look much younger than my years (which never hurts, of course lol) so it just doesn't bother me. In fact, I had a particularly good birthday full of surprises and good yum yums at London's Tootsies, an American restaurant not far from where I work.

Of all the best of pressies one could get, my mother's granting of a few more seasons, weeks, or however long on earth, is by far the best. The next best came when I ferociously and tearfully spent quite a long time on Friday calling 1-800-825-5225. Does that number sound familiar?

I'll give a hint....where debt is dumb, cash is king.....and people get to give their "debt-free" shout on Fridays. Yes, I have, after 17 months, become debt-free. I didn't get through, but that doesn't stop me. I'll get through if it takes me til BS7! I was very blessed to have only one Murphy visit, in the form of a fallen-out filling that because of it happening in America, our travel insurance paid all but $80.

I know there are some Ramsey fans out there. Just an interesting little tidbit I discovered. In looking at the provident living portion of lds.org, the debt section recommends a system hauntingly mirrored to the debt snowball. My testimony is that it works, paying tithing is a blessing and that it is freedom.

I have not yet cut up my credit cards because I've been storing them waiting for the right notion to strike me as how to destroy them on film, so I could send it to Dave. Something really unique. I finally made my mind up before all this happened with my mom, that I am going down to the Tower of London, where I will systematically and methodically "hang, draw and quarter" each card....the worst punishment in medieval Britain, usually reserved only for treason....each equipped with little nooses (the Brit reminding me I've already asked 3 times if we have twine) and for committing treason against financial peace, on Tower Green, they will be punished once & for all. Stay tuned to see if I get on Fox... ;)

I think it's time to bye bye blog

To everyone who has read/commented on the blog, I thank you. I am going to be shutting it down. I feel that we just don't have that much to share that would be of interest to anyone. We do a lot, but it would be boring for most to hear. We don't have a new house, kids, or anything too adventurous to report.

I hope to continue to see you all on Facebook, and I will still visit your blogs too.

Would you like an alpaca?

I've been over here officially 3 years this past Saturday. Even after that long, I still sometimes have problems with accents. For some reason, the grocery store seems to be my jinx of places to get myself into something. The cashiers are almost always sweet, soft-spoken East Indian ladies who have a cross between an Indian and a British accent.

One Saturday a few months ago, I set out to get a few things at the store that is about a block from our home. I grabbed a hand-held basket, got my things and proceeded to a checkout. The girl started scanning and then looked up at me and said,

"Would you like an alpaca?"

"Sorry" I said, leaning in, as I could barely hear her and I knew I heard that one wrong.

"Would you like an alpaca?" she asked, clearly.

Ok, at this point, the next 2.3 split seconds that went through my head were something like this---there is no way she is saying that, am I on the Jamie Kennedy experiment?, maybe there's some funky sale in the meat dept, do Jamaicans eat alpaca, there's tons of Jamaican food in this store, but wait, I'm not Jamaican, what the heck, I couldn't have heard this right"

Very embarrasingly, I leaned forward, feigning deafness and said, "I'm really sorry, but I can't hear you"

She then said,

" WOULD YOU LIKE SOME HELP PACKING?"

I had to literally bite my tongue to keep from laughing. I politely declined and got outta there as fast as poss.

No joke, about a month later, the Brit and I were at Morrison's, a grocery store about 3 miles away but has some things we like that other stores don't have.

We made our way to the checkout and again a soft-spoken little East Indian lady greeted us. As she began scanning our items she looked at me and said very plainly

"Would you like to save a cat?"

I thought, my heck what is going on? I'm not falling for this again, I thought and then said "no thank you" and kept on bagging. I told the Brit as we pushed our cart away what I thought she said.

Robert said, "She did ask you that. Don't you know Morrison's is on the Board of Directors for the Royal Cat Society?" (which doesn't exist). He said what she really wanted to know is if I wanted some Saver Stamps.

Sure, if they'll save me from cashiers.

Robert can never resist pulling my leg a bit.

So if you ever come over to Britain, just say no to checkout ladies.

Merry Ol Blithey---the British understatement

I've been over here nearly 3 years now and some things still amaze me. Brits are fascinated with corn but I'll save that for another post.

I think it is a combination of my sarcastic sense of humor (or humour as they spell it here) and a cultural difference. In the past week:

*I went to the grocery store and thinking I didn't need a basket, just piled things up in my arms. I made my way to the checkout stand barely able to keep all of my stuff from falling everywhere. It was finally my turn and I placed everything down rather haphazardly on the belt. The cashier started ringing up my items and she asked, "Would you like a bag?"

Would I like a bag? No, I would rather walk the streets of London juggling all of these items in my arms hoping not to have my apple go rolling before I walk the 1.6 miles to my home where I will maneuver my key between my teeth and climb 23 stairs to my door and kick it unmercifully until the Brit investigates what the heck is going on. Another reason I need a bluetooth headset.


2nd thing:
*I had to go to the Dr. office for an 'official' blood pressure check. They have a screen that flashes various announcements and information about hours, etc.. Today it said,
"We now have a staff phlebotomist who is competent at drawing blood".

Gosh, I hope so. As opposed to a phlebotomist who hasn't a clue what they're doing or can only draw blood on paper. I told a colleague this at work and we had a good laugh. He said it's like saying we have a bus driver that can take a curve.

I've NEVER been able to keep a straight face and I'm one of these people who you can tell exactly how I feel or what I'm thinking by the look on my face. I'm sure I've given more than a few strange looks. I know I've gotten some in return, especially when I told the male cashier at Tesco that I didn't need a sack--after all, I just had 1 item. His strange look was not for that reason, but because the word sack over here means something very rude.


so much for grocery bags!!

Our flat

I had a request to post more pics of Robert & I and of our apartment. Well, our camera is at my inlaws house, so I won't be able to post pics of us for awhile because the one on my cell phone takes horrible quality pics. But... I do have some of our flat from right before we moved in.

All I will say is brace yourself. I've been over here nearly 3 years and one of the first and toughest lessons I've had is I can't compare American life to British life and get any kind of even outcome. Not even close. Our flat measures my best guess about 9X30. We pay $1250 per month for it and another $200 in council tax, which is your garbage, library, schools, police/fire,etc.. kinda comparable to a city tax.

London is the 2nd most expensive city in the world, next to Moscow. Houses here are extremely small by American standards. My in laws have an average/large house, with 3 bedrooms, 1 bath, 1 living room & dining room. If they put it on the market today, even in the economic downturn, they'd get no less than about $450K-$500K for it. much higher in a good market. It's my best guess after owning 2 houses myself, that it measures about 1250-1400 sq ft.

So without further adieu, here is my home:



The blue edge you see on the mid-left is our bed. The brown door is one of the sliding doors that separate our bedroom from the living room/kitchen. The white panel is a heater, but is now gone. Where the wood box is, is our computer and the blue area is a dinky entertainment center with a 32 inch lcd tv with a mirror above. To the far left that you can't see is our 2 seater couch

The mucky couch you see to the right has been replaced by a black IKEA couch. The little white box on the right is our fridge, and the freezer inside is the size of a shoebox. Above the stove is now laminate cupboards. Behind the glass is our entryway and bathroom with a walk-in shower, no tub. The box to the left is the washer, no dryer. Most people don't have dryers over here.

The flat is very modern with pergo flooring and chrome features, track lighting and the walls are a pale beige. We've colorized everything in black, grey and chrome. We even have a chrome toilet seat (the Brit's idea and its a booger to keep clean). Our bedroom curtain and duvet set is terra cotta and cream. I figure even if it is small, it can look nice.

Now, as you're probably wondering how we live in a box....do I really like it? At first okay, then I went through a period of HATING it, then I'm back to okay with it because it saves us a lot of money. We both make a good living and could afford a slightly bigger place, but right now we can save so much it's not worth it. I'm sure it will get to us at some point.

We have a super location, 1 block from a major grocery center, 10 min walk evenly between 2 underground stations, Harrow is beautiful and the safest of the 23 boroughs of London. The town center is only a 5 min walk with 2 small shopping malls (mall by British standards is about 1/4 or less of an American mall).

We have no intention of buying property in Britain. If we ever bought property it will be in Florida for retirement, in cash. Part of the lending crisis over here is there is no such thing as a fixed interest mortgage for longer than a 2 year teaser rate, and the banks will lend you up to 6 times your combined income.

Another housing fact different from America is people are often roommates for life. It's normal to have 2-3 housemates or flatmates. One of the guys I work with lives with a married couple. My visiting teachers live together and one has 3 boys. It's actually uncommon to find a single person living alone because of the cost.

Daily life in Merry ol Blithey episode 2--"Russian Man" (aka poor wayfaring man of grief)

Robert and I live in a very large victorian house that has been redone into 6 separate apartments. We live on the 2nd floor and share a common door with 3 other neighbors. The only apartment that the door faces the street belongs to Russian man.

We first noticed him a little over a year ago. We've had a lot of neighbors come and go, and luckily, all have been really good, quiet ones. I'm embarrased to say we don't know his name, but he's an asylum seeker from Georgia, former Russian state. He is a very friendly man, but was scared of me for some time because I'm American. I'm still not used to being referred to by my nationality, although I'm terribly proud to be American, I just can't get used to a society that everyone is referred to by their country (seems weird to me). He now says hi to me too. The Brit must have told him being afraid of me is about the same as being afraid of cotton candy. He really likes the Brit, and he will stop Robert at every chance he gets to have a little chat.

He preaches the power of yoga, how good Virgin is for a broadband provider (although he has no electricity half the time and doesn't own a computer), and wants to know all the ins and outs of what the council has for free furniture. I have to hand it to Robert, he has dealt with a lot of chatter, to the point that after an hour of him not being home for a 10 min errand, I phone him to find out he's been downstairs 'stuck' with Russian man for the past 45 min listening to his meanderings and philosophies.

His mind isn't quite right. Sometime he lectures and paces down the side of the house and you can hear him saying "I'm from Georgia, you are English man". I see him walking down the center of the road, babbling russian while his arms are outstretched as if to describe the dimensions of a kitchen table. What saddens me the most is to see him so bored. Asylum seekers are forbidden to work while their application is being considered, which can sometimes take years. Can you imagine being so bored you cut the backyard grass with hedge clippers?

Tonight I came home & Robert quickly explained our bedroom curtain was closed because Russian man was on one of his backyard wanders, babbling. I'm not sure what he's doing. This was my chance. I quickly took a snap with my phone & thought this poor man really is a daily part of our lives.

He reminds me of my blessings. He reminds me that even a hard day at work is still a day I got to go to a job and earn a decent living. He reminds me that a smile and a hello can go a long, long way. He reminds me that being an American is something to cherish.

Daily tidbits from merry ol Blithey series--episode 1

We have a trio of cats who live next door, who see the Brit and go bounding over for their share of tummy rubs and won't come near me. If they only knew how spoiled they would be, as I had to give up my boys, Moroni & Helaman (you have a new kitten named Moroni who needs a playmate, what do you do for an encore? Helaman)

Back to the next door neighpurrs. The black one, who is actually black with shades of purple and brown in his aged coat, patrols the back wall of our yard with regular zeal.

We have a big, vertical picture window in our bedroom, which this pic is taken from. We are on the 2nd floor so have quite a view of the patrols that often go on, along the wall.

Until one day.......................an intruder.....tried to have a go on the wall.

I watched out the window to see a tortoise shell cat, teetering for dear life on all fours, all while the black cat was perfectly balanced on 3 paws --- swatting the tortoise shell cat with the precision of Zorro. Smack...swat..smack.. until the other cat could teeter no more. Down he went and black cat chased him through about 2 more backyards over fences.

Thus, we have bequeathed him with the name of Wallwalker.