Ever since the Barcelona games in 1992, I've had a fairly low opinion of the Olympics. It started with the inclusion of NBA players on the US Olympic basketball team, "The Dream Team". I disagree with the shift from a pure amateur athletic competition to one where it seems if you don't have sponsors or do your chosen sport 8 hours a day, you don't get in. At least, that's how it appears to me.
But that's not going to stop me from helping my kid have a memory.
And because it seems like no one believes us when we tell them about the weekend night dressing up... here's this one...
But the fact that I got to watch this event with everyone else is indescribable. Truly. I know I will never carry a torch, just like all you men out there will never play for the Yankees/Mets/Cubs/ManU. I got to carry it vicariously, along with everyone else there that day, through this young man...
Here's a video of him on the other side of Durham from where we were...
And here he is running by me... ....and away from me.
I follow MichonMichon/Jules and she had a video on yesterday's post. It was Epic Meal Time's Breakfast of Booze. I think I was in some way inspired by that yelling man, hence all the curse words.
This is the ingredient list. We're in England, so weights are grams and kilograms for the dry fruit ingredients. Yes yes, Derpina, there are some tsps and tbsps but those aren't necessary to the story.
Assembly table #1
The cauldron. Normally used for the Christmas Chutneys, but this year, it was decided that the making of the chutney was far too dangerous for their relationships with one another. So, cakes it was.
This is Ruth's mother, Susan. She's lining the cake tins with parchment paper. Notice the coffee mug. The cuppa is ever present in this house, in this country. Omnipresent, really...like a Route 44 Sonic drink in a teacher's classroom: ubiquitous.
Commence round 1 with all this butter!
It goes in the cauldron! Add lots of sugar! That's smart.
Count those mutha-fucking eggs! 12! And we ain't even done yet!
The stuff that goes in cake.
Put some peel there, bitches. Life's too short to drink alone.
Mixed fruit and currants soaked in Courvoisier
They all go in!
Divide it evenly, yo. Make some divots in the middle for the alcohol collection. Was told that one of these would be mine. Dammit.
Start round two. That's me folks. I was a mixin' fool! Roo's mom brought an industrial strength one because she learned from last year's mishap: the mixer's motor burned out.
Whoomp! Dere it is! Shakalaka. This one was mine. It has crystallized ginger, dates, nuts, and other mixed fruits too. I think there was mango. Not positive. It too has a divot for the alcohol. It was my "practice cake".
Take it to the pub and eat that brick. Fucker was massive. This was only half of it. Gave the other half to Peter the Bartender. Haven't heard back from him about it, so it must've been alright.
So theoretically speaking, there'd be a cake in a tin on my counter (aka 'bench' in this neck of the woods) and I'd be "feeding" it spirits each week... Like I have some minor cake god to appease.
I couldn't wait for that though. I wanted to try it out. And you know what? It was like fruitcake. I don't like fruitcake really. Neither do SciMan and Kiddo. But you know what else? When Roo gives me the Christmas Cake that I helped to make, I'm going to eat some and be grateful that I have such a great friend in her. She drives me places that would take me an hour by bus (not counting wait times). We have a lot of laughs together; our taste in alcohol is similar: I like it straight from the bottle and not in a cake, so does she. My kid loves her and vice versa. She's my first grown-up friend* and I'm very very lucky to have one like her.
*to all my other friends that I made before I was "grown-up": I love you realhard. It isn't that I don't think you are "real" friends, it's that you met me when I was young and stupid and you liked me. You even like me now when I'm older and more stupid than before and I imagine that you'll keep on keepin' on when I'm way old and catatonically senile. I sure as hell hope so. You know my skeletons, so to speak. And maybe, just maybe it's because of that that I'm wondering what's wrong with you.
... or rather, more like 300+, just to be the mom who gives her kid a hell of a time at a favorite cartoon character's theme park. And I'd take the train instead.
Mom asked me what I wanted for my birthday. I said "tickets for us all to go to Peppa Pig World!" I was not disappointed. We like Peppa Pig in this house, even if throngs of little girls are threatening. Just ask Allie Brosh.
Peppa Pig World, located in Paulton's Park, is a great place to take little kids to ride rides and look at stuff, like meerkats and penguins.
Long train rides wouldn't be complete without Baby Sweetie Belle.
Representing west side or east side? I never knew which pants leg went with which direction.
While waiting in the Balloon Ride queue (line for you Amurrcans), I couldn't help but notice some differences between British queuers and American line-uppers at a pricey theme park.
British families are quieter.
British families are fitter.
British mummies bring healthy food in large cooler bags for their children to eat while waiting in the queue.
British daddies don't spaz out on their small children when their small children refuse to eat fruit and dump it all out in the middle of the walkway.
British people help aforementioned daddy clean up the spilled fruit.
And then I got to see some differences between British social classes as a result... Later in the week, after the trip to Paulton's Park & PPW, I took Natalie to the park (two minute walk now!). There was a family there sitting at one of the picnic tables. Every so often, the fatter of the three ladies would shriek at the top of her lungs some name at random and whatever offending child that name belonged to would cease what they were doing only long enough for the lady to turn back to her family? friends? and her tab. Tab, in the northeast of England is a cigarette.
Eventually they left. They also left several empty crisps packets and drinks bottles. So, here's what I deduced from this, after (surreptitiously of course) watching them for several minutes:
Northern British families found in a local neighborhood park are not like the British families found in a Southern theme park.
Not all British families are fit. Which I knew anyway, but I'd like to reiterate this.
Northern British families of a certain class that can be found in a local neighborhood park don't particularly care to clean up after themselves.
Understandable, since there aren't any trash cans in the vicinity and really, who wants to take their trash home? Seems like there's plenty there already.
Northern British daddies of a certain type do not interact directly with their progeny.
Northern British mummies of a certain type prefer tracksuit bottoms and hoodies for comfort wear.
Alright. Enough of that depressing shit. Back to the greatness that is Peppa Pig World!
I think there's a picture somewhere of me doing this exact thing while waiting in line for a ride at Disney Land. All kids do this. See that other kid? The one paying homage to Shark Week? Yep. Oh, here's another homage to Shark Week...
Here we are on Peppa Pig's Balloon Ride with the ubiquitous sunglasses. I must always have my sunglasses. My Precious.
First ride on her very own! So proud that it was on George's Dinosaur Adventure.
To solo ride rides at Peppa Pig World, one must be 900 millimetres tall. Yes. That's how it was phrased on each height required panel at the entrance to every ride. 900 millimetres. This is 90 centimeters or three footlong subs from Subway (or City Bites, if that's what floats your boat. I worked there, so it don't for me).
I don't know why "900 millimetres" ticks me off. Could be that the "900" is too big a number to process or that it all seemed a bit pretentious? How the hell was I supposed to know that I needed to know my kid's height in "millimetres"? But is okay. They let her ride the ride by herself. And then because of how it was arranged, I had to ride the ride too. All by myself.
My mom was so proud.
The lovely animatronics. I had no idea that they were animatronics because they didn't move nor did their mouths all that much. A little. But then they did. Jerkily and in time with the audio playing. I thought it well done that it was in time with the audio.
Viking Boat swing. The best ride ever!
All tuckered out.
Going home.
One last thing... never saw a Park Worker cleaning up after patrons. Everyone cleaned up after themselves. I wish I could bottle that up and export it as supplementary vitamins.
Good time and yes, I'd like to go back again because there's more to that park than just Peppa Pig World, like 75% more.
Oh, and I haven't forgotten about the butcher interview. It's coming. It'll suck, most likely but that's because you didn't leave a question for me to ask him. So you won't get to have your deepest curiosity satiated. OR you could leave a question now and have it be your last ditch effort, I won't mind.
I watched this video and took something for the headache and therefore, am better. It's probably a tumor though. So. Another year. Another birthday. I'm 32 today. A factor of two. Two to the fifth to be precise. I slept in, got up at 9. And I still have no idea when I'm going to get to watch this movie in the theater. FML.
This birthday is an improvement on last year's when I knew absolutely no one outside of my husband, Kiddo, and the bartender at the pub. Pathetic.
But this year, I know people. I've been here long enough to get a group of women to go out for a night on the 'toon. Tomorrow night, I celebrate my 32nd with the 1st Inaugural Mid-Summer's Geordie Night on the 'Toon.
Today, I got an email from a friend with birthday greetings and it got me thinking about birthdays and specifically, mine. Then I immediately started categorizing what I thought were my best birthdays ever...
30th: It was a surprise birthday party. Honestly had no idea. Mom, The Man, and bestRealLifeFriendinNorman pulled it off.
25th: Spent it with close family and friends at Incredible Pizza Company, playing arcade and pier games, go-karts, miniature golf. It was like going backward in time.
21st: Derp. Of course, but what makes it great is that Mom bought dinner for all my friends that night as a surprise gesture. And then I got greatfaced drunk.
18th: First time I spent my birthday away from my family. I was at a competitive workshop for TV broadcasting. In retrospect, I might should've stuck with that field. I won two first place prizes. It was the first of many times I refused to listen to the universe. But it helped me realize that I like being on my own on my birthday if that's what I want to do...that I'm not required to be among family and friends on my birthday.
15th: Special birthday, the 'golden' birthday. Some call it the 'Champagne Birthday' or 'Star Birthday'. Had tons of family all together eating at The Spaghetti Warehouse. Sounds gross, but at the time, was one of the best restaurants in Bricktown. The cake was awesome.
10th: Mainly because moved out of single digit.
7th: Five words: WHITE WATER BAY AND SUNBURN!!! And then El Chico's!
4th: In the tiny kitchen, Mom, Dad, Grandpa and Grandma were all together. There are no pictures of this day that I've ever seen, but that's okay. I don't need one to remember where they were all standing because I can recall it clearly. Grandpa leaning against the sink, holding his plate and eating carefully. Like he always did. All the other adults standing in the kitchen or sitting in the living room, also tiny. I got the prettiest Barbie that day. I'd been outside playing and I remember the color of the paper plates we used for the cake. I remember wanting to drink my punch from one of my kitchen set's toy cup... and my mom let me!
And tomorrow is Kiddo's 4th birthday party. I wonder what she'll remember. I'll be sure to take a few pictures, just in case.
In one of those really neat things about the blogworld, our activities today were because of this wonderful lady, Amanda
Amanda blogs at city girl gone coastal... She's a very creative gal, who's mom to two very lucky little twin boys! Many times, I've read her stuff and thought, "holy shnikies...wow". She's always coming up with great crafty things (which, if you knew me in real life, you'd know I fancy that lifestyle) for her to doll up her space or for her two boys to play with. She gives step by step instructions, illustrated with pictures, as she completes the project. It's Crafting for Dummies like Mollie.
When she posted about the Decision Dice as the perfect solution for curing indecisive children, I wanted one for me! It's been hard at times to decide what activities to do with Kiddo... so many to choose from!
I convinced Amanda to make one for Kiddo. I offered hundreds of dollars, which she refused, since they don't accept dollars as currency here. So I offered to pay for the materials... and...
...that's a quality purchase! Look at that happy face! First, Kiddo and I played with the Decision Dice inside...it makes a great ball for inside the house play! And then we made cards to put inside the pockets, like so:
Which resulted in the following:
A walk where we got to see poppies growing in a field of wheat
Thanks to Lauren for the touch up! Photo taken with my Google HTC phone. ...as well as a masterpiece of artwork, created by both of us...
...which ultimately looks like a pizza.
And now, Kiddo is tired and using the D.D. as a pillow while she watches Creature Comforts. A brilliantly successful day. Thank you Amanda!
So I got a text sometime last week inviting me out for a "goodbye" party out at Wetherspoons, or rather, 'spoons'. Immediately I thought, "yeah, right," because of the last time I went out with the kids. Technically, it really was a goodbye pub crawl, like you do here. The Jobseekers program that pays the salary for the CS shop workers ran its course and my friends are now moving on to other things, like moving away to Coventry. This was to be the last 'hoorah'.
To this day, we still have not made it to Wetherspoons as a group. Lifetime bans have that effect, I suppose.
No. The revelers started out at Studio where I came across these fine items...
A vending machine that provides slip on flats for those tired piggies after a hard night of working it in stilettos.
Click to enlarge
Okay. I've never ever seen anything like that before. Excellent idea!
Here's some samples of the footwear the ladies of the Northeast torment their feet indulge for the sake of fashion...
These particular examples of Northeast Footwear Fashion are extremely tame. Me? I was already wearing black flats. I learned my lesson the first time.
It was loud, too loud. I tried to convince these younguns that we should go someplace quieter. Some were amenable. And then some of them, who I didn't meet because of the fact that it was really loud and I couldn't be bothered anyway, decided to buy pitchers...
Good on him. He was over 7 feet tall anyway.
I had to leave and I wasn't the only one who felt the same way. When people start drinking pitchers through a straw, it usually isn't a good harbinger of a fun night out with the lads...
So we (Laura, her boyfriend Matt, and I) moved on to...
Popped collar central...aka Varsity. Has lovely large bathrooms.
The Slug and Lettuce. Yes, that's really its name. And it is a huge place. But on certain days and times, they have really good deals like 2-for-1 cocktails. Had a very nice and spicy Bloody Mary. Bartender looked at me like I was crazy because I kept telling him, "MORE TABASCO!" I know it's a horrible picture, but what do you expect?
And then there was this guy. Still the Slug and Lettuce. Gave that chair quite the lap dance. Must've been an invisible rabbit sitting in it or something. It was Easter Eve after all.
Temperature at night was high 30s or low 40s. See the heels? And her dress is one of the longer ones. I was inadvertently flashed Britney-style at one point during the course of the night by a girl whose dress was much shorter than that pink number.
And what was I wearing? Jeans that kept falling down (happies, dammit), Gap Favorite T-shirt (gray), Gap jacket (beige), Scarf (gray with fringe), black flats. Ponytail. And I couldn't give less of a damn that that was what I wore.
Oh and it rained too. Heh heh.
Finally, because Laura was feeling minor guilt that she was not hanging out with people she cajoled into coming out, we ended the night with all the pitcher-drinking hoodlums at Yates. The DJ wouldn't play Sonique. Said it was too old. UH, HELLO? Ever hear of retro? Tosser. But I am now happily acquainted with these lovely songs...
and
and Lady Gaga's Born This Way which is a total rip-off of Madonna's Express Yourself...
Amirite?
I was happy to spend time with the ones I knew, happy to ignore the ones I didn't. Because I'm a Sensible Lady. Turns out that I was also Old Lady at the Club. Just like Chef says, don't bother me none.
And so, after a night of drinking a few drinks and observing the natives, I was home before midnight-thirty. To think that I was contemplating canceling so I could watch Game of Thrones.
