For Ceci: The Two Cities

After my blog entry, "Twenty Things About Me", Fellow blogger Ceci at My Chaos My Bliss wants to know which two cities I hated. Dare I ask which city she lives in? I don't blame her for asking and I'll be the first to admit that is was foolish of me to use such strong language as love and hate. I thought about it. Really, I did. I paused as I stroked the keys h a t e but the lure of raising eyebrows and creating a wee bit of drama was just too irresistible and the polarity of love and hate was too attractive and demonstrative of how I felt at the time in which I lived in each city. If I had chosen my words more carefully I may have said something like, "... I hated living in two of them..." versus "... I hated two of them...". Or even, "I was miserable when I lived in two of them, perfectly content when I lived in two of them and quite accepting when I lived in another two. Being a penny too short and a dollar too late would seem a fitting phase right here. I hope I can be forgiven my faux pas but, Ceci, you asked a great question and I am more than happy to answer. The purge will do me good; I only hope it won't bore the rest of you.

Now for the unveiling. The first city I hated living in was Peterborough. I begin with this one as it falls further back in history. I moved to Peterborough from London when I was nineteen going on twenty. The move was inevitable and I knew it was coming but it didn't make it any easier. In London, I had a great sense of freedom. I enjoyed the art galleries and street performances, walks along the Thames and cheap west-end theater tickets. My favorite past-time was to people watch in Convent Garden with the string quartet busking in the cobble stoned piazza. I had a group of girlfriends I grew up who provided all the support and love I needed and felt quite comfortable walking into a bar and ordering myself a lonely single pint on a summer evenings with nothing but the newspaper or impressive novel for company; nursing it until it was time for me to be on my way. I loved the anonymity of the city and the security of good friends. I could loose myself in London or enjoy it with the company of good friends.

Moving to Peterborough was a big culture shock, more so than my move from England to the U.S. In actuality, the city of Peterborough only filled a short line on my mailing address. To all intense and purposes, I had moved to a small village sixteen or so miles north of Peterborough. The village had one bus service which ran every hour. I was used to having my choice of at least four running every fifteen minutes plus the underground and the train. I was also used to having a choice pubs to frequent -- more than I cared to count; the small village had two and everybody knew everybody else. A new face at the bar could bring the bustle to a standstill as looks were exchanged around the room. There was just one shop in the village and it was closed half days on Saturday and Sundays; no more craving runs to the local newsagents. That was an absolute killer for me -- no comfort food to soothe my soul on a lonely night.

Needless to say, my social life suffered and I was miserable. While I found London to provide a sense of autonomy armoured with perceived acceptance, the village I lived in felt suffocating and limiting and with few avenues to follow. In retrospect, how I came to meet my husband was nothing short of a miracle and is another story if of itself. For now, I shall simply say we met for the first time in a tiny old ford fiesta and married three years after a long-distance relationship. We'll be celebrating our tenth wedding anniversary this year.

As we all things, time and experience changes perception. When I go back to visit my family hwo live in the that same village I once found so sufficating, I find peace. I like the quieter life -- the two quaint pubs and tea-rooms galore. I enjoy the rugged back alleys backed by fields and fields of fallow land and wild bunnies jumping about the place, and I feel sad when I see a chain store planting its foundation and staking its claim. And when I visit my beloved London, I am glad that I don't live there anymore. I miss it; I miss aspects of London and what it has to offer, and I will always love London, but I know I'm happier here in California than a city dweller under the dark grey winter skies of London's city-scape.

As good a place as this would be to end, there is another city I am yet to unveil and that would be Houston, TX. Ceci, if this is where your heart is, I am so, so sorry. Houston, I'm afraid was the second city where I felt, well -- miserable. Maybe not quite miserable, but certainly frustrated. I lived in Houston for a short three months from the end of September through Christmas shortly after I was married. Unfortunately I forget the exact district.

In all honestly, my dislike for Houston probably had little to do with the city itself for I can remember plenty of good things I liked about it. The Tex-Mex was amazing. Really good. There was a restaurant we used to go to several times a week and would even make a special stop to pick up their salsa that to this day is the best I have ever tasted. Oh how we craved it for months after we left. I think hubby and I even considered using air miles to fly back on a weekend just to get of the Tex-Mex flavor again. The people were friendly there too, they always had time for you and were never too uptight.

Of course, you can't talk about Houston without mentioning Johnson's Space Center, an absolute must see and a quick search on yahoo travel tells me there's also a great children's museum there too. These are not the reasons I didn't enjoy my time living in Houston, nor was it out day trip to lovely Galveston, a quaint tourist spot fifty or so miles south east of Houston. The reason I hated living in Houston came down to transportation.

I was living in a brand new gated complex built for short term renters, mainly for businesses. We were one of the first tenants and many of the apartments and condos were empty. It was built on a stretch of road that didn't have anything for miles in either direction and the public transport was non-existent. I couldn't work due to a glitch with INS (Imigration and Naturalization Services) paperwork and I basically spent my days waiting for my hubby to come home. I was bored out my brain and having not been in the U.S. for very long was feeling a little lonely and homesick. It all sounds a bit pathetic to write it out now, but at the time I remember feeling pretty desperate. In retrospect it was probably a very good for me as it gave me pause to think about which direction I wanted to head in. It broke me free from the chains of work and allowed me to occupy my mind with new goals and revisit some old ones. Most likely, it was here where I realized my goal to return to school and complete a bachelors degree, a journey I began a year later and finally completed just last year.

So Ceci, I have bared all. The two cities I "hated" may have not been that much fun for me to live in at the time, but they did give me two great things. My husband and the path which led to a college degree. For that I always be grateful.

Twenty Things About Me

Tonya at A Day In My Life has pushed me into posting a draft I started some months back by gently (not so gently) encouraging her readers to answer fifty questions about themselves. Rather than responding to the fifty questions I'm posting this old draft I was too shy to post earlier. They are listed in no particular order.

1. Compassionate about learning -- in all realms, the self, others, cultures, art, literature, my children, my family.


2. I don't like to disappoint myself, and others even more.


3. I hate to break a promise and will go to extreme and daft lengths to keep a promise.


4. I find it easy to forgive and harder to forget.


5. My peaceful place is anywhere there's water (even the kitchen sink) but preferable a lake or ocean.


6. I like to swing on the swings at the park.


7. I've only ever loved once (that would be my hubby).


8. I spent four, or was it five years studying french -- but please don't ask me to interpret.


9. The first book I remember really loving was called, "My New Blue Shoes" and my mother used to read it to me at bedtime, over and over and over and over and over again.


10. Most Americans have seen more of the U.K. and Europe than me -- hopefully that will change.


11. My dream job without kids and hubby would be to be a travel journalist/photographer.


12. My dream job with kids and hubby is to stay-at-home and get paid for it.


13. My favorite colours to wear are brown, green, and blue.


14. I'd buy a new bag over a pair of shoes.


15. My guilty pleasures are celebrity gossip and reading other people's blogs.


16. I prefer savory over sweet foods and cold over hot drinks.


17. I have a broken nose and once fractured my tail bone (ouch).


18. I jumped out of an airplane at 8,000 feet over the Great Barrier Reef and Scuba Dived into it the following day. Magnificent.


19. I first learned to ride a bicycle at fifteen. It was pure adolescent, humiliating, torture.


20. I have lived in six cities; London, Peterborough, Los Angeles, Houston, Boston, Long Beach. I loved two them, hated two of them and have been happily content with two of them.

The Random Two Respond.

I had a great day out with my two little ones today. I took them both off to the Aquarium of the Pacific and it was a truly fabulous day. Maggie won the hearts of a few people as she chatted freely about her knowledge of ocean creatures, past and present, and my son happily sat in the backpack carrier taking in the surroundings without protest and even gave up a few involuntary oohs and ahhs. I took a ton of photos and even got a couple of the three of us taken by other families visiting the aquarium. As I packed the kids back in the car and started the drive home I swore I would be writing a blog entry about the day. Then I got home. I checked my email and my blog and discovered the two random bloggers I tagged for a six word memoir decided to take up the challenge. Though my dayout with the kids was a memorable and blog worthy, I decided to write a response to the two random bloggers who gave me a little of themselves. Thank you, both.

I was (and still am) thrilled that two random people, people who I shall probably never meet, choose to respond to the six word memoir invite and am now probably, more than likely, absolutely hooked on visiting them again. Gigi at fireflyhouse, a retired English and Social Studies high-school teacher (yes I did read back that far), sounds like an absolute sweetheart. I'm sure I would have loved her as one of my English teachers. With the exception of one, mine were appauling and sadly, quite forgettable. Gigi's six word memoir was inspired by the love of a great woman -- her mother. It was touching to read about her mother and the kind of life she had and in fact reminded me of someone in my family too -- Amber, I'm sure you know who I thinking of here. I encourage anyone to visit her blog for a little looksee, you might just want to stick around and I thank you Gigi for taking the time to respond to my tag. I enjoyed the beautiful pictures of your mother, the story about her and many of your other entries too. I hope that you continue to be inspired by your family, great movies like "Howard's End" and "The Razors Edge" and the love of your garden. I am so glad I tagged you, and very appreciative that you choose to respond when you could have so easily and quietly ignored me.

Now on to Brian from daddyisanija. What a cool guy. He also graciously took up the challenge to write a six word memoir and I thank you Brian for playing the game. This "Dude", forgive the Americanism my dear Anglicans, but this guy can really only be described as a Dude. Well, by my translation anyway. He is witty, yet serious. Manly yet loving. How anyone can write with such intent and juxtaposition is in a class of their own. By the way Brian, if you're reading this, I think you might enjoy some of Bill Bryson (and please tell me that you have also seen a few of Edgar Wright's movies). The pictures of your family are lovely and the words you choose to describe them are immeasurable. I hope that you are keeping hard copies of these precious and fast growing years and major kudos to you for blogging away in the first place. I love your six word memoir, sounds very appropre and thank you also for forwarding this on to a friend. I love the snowball effect.

Speaking of which, Brian's friend -- Hirsutehersuit at Facemelters Anonymous took up the invite to write a six word memoir too. His sense of humour sounds like a match for you Brian. I think out of all the six word memoirs I have read during this little game, Hirsutehersuit is the most original in thought. Thanks for playing along and keep up with the blogging too.

Hunger Strike Makes One Cranky, Tired Boy

A few day ago my little boy woke with a grade fever. The fever has gone but a loss of appetite remains. In the last few day he's had very little to it, or so it seems. This makes his days long and tiring and thus mine too. He is one cranky boy and is not napping well either. I'm slowly going out of my mind. I hope he gets out of his funk, and soon.

Six Word Memoir

I was tagged by Tonya at A Day In My Life inviting me to partake in a six word memoir. The Meme originated over an idea that was prompted by the book written by Larry Smith and Rachel Fershleiser, Not Quite What I was Planning: Six Word Memoires by Writers Famous and Obscure. It's a compilation based on the story that Hemingway once bet ten dollars that he could sum up his life in six words. His words were- For Sale: baby shoes, never worn.

This was an interesting exercise to do. I had unwittingly did this a week go when I was inspired by a board post on babycenter.com but it was directly related to "life as a mom" not life as me per say. I considered the adjectives which could describe who I am and the nouns to describe what I have done or desire to do. It just turned into a long list of things, near impossible to whittle down to a mere six without missing a small shade of who I am or who I want to be.

For inspiration, I recalled a novel of Hemingway's I read once. A Farewell to Arms. The story moved me to tears when I first read it eight years ago. I believe it was based on Hemmingway's own life and knowing this gives a powerful view of his choice of six words. There are many things in life which define, shape and alter you; the big ones are life and death. Hemingway's six words represent both of those. I wonder how difficult or easy it was for him to choose just six words for such a profound experience such as his.


So, without further ado, my six words:

Loved, birth, life, learn, freedom, chance

Pausing to take in Hemmingway's message, I choose to base my six words in recognizing my privileged life. Loved represents significant others in my life who have shown me unconditional love and those who I have loved without pretence and expectation. Birth represents the birth of my children who very much define who I am today and who I will be in the future. Life represents the longevity of my life and the loved ones around me, a reminder to me to live and not wallow in self pity. Learn represents my passion for learning and belief in that you should always strive to be open to new ideas. Freedom represents that I live in a free state and pays tribute to the men and women who have fought before me and shall fight after me for the freedom of all people. Chance represents the opportunities that have come knocking and the calculated risks I have taken in life. I have been blessed.


In response, I tag some of the few people I follow on blogsphere (I'm a newbie at this game).

Amber at Real Life Begins for her love of words, book and a challenge.
Lisa at Janstas Eggis because I love her so and I'm pretty sure T has been strategic in her selection (sneaky T) with the hopes that I will tag her.
Ceci at My Chaos, My Bliss because she always has a good story.

For the last two I have selected some random blogs by linking from my profile to see what comes up. It will be interesting to see if anyone takes up the challenge, and if you do -- I thank you. I shan't post your blog link here for the sake of your own privacy but please, join in the fun and remember to post your blog and six word memoir in my comments.


Here are the rules: 1. Write your own six word memoir. 2. Post it on your blog and include a visual illustration if you’d like. 3. Link to the person that tagged you in your post and to this original post if possible so we can track it as it travels across the blogosphere. 4 .Tag five more blogs with links. 5. And don’t forget to leave a comment on the tagged blogs with an invitation to play!

Summer Kick Off

This afternoon I took the kids off to Mother's Beach in Long Beach, California. Maggie and Ryan had a great time and despite my dragging feet (putting my post twenties, post baby bod on the beach is not high on my list of things to do) it turned out to be a very good way to spend the afternoon and was a great kick start to the summer holiday fun.

Ryan was asleep when we first arrived and I managed to put him in the stroller without waking him up which gave Maggie and I some decent quality one on one time. She was so much fun and really helped me relax and take in the surroundings. We dug in the sand splashed in the water (she went in up to her knees), found a few muscle shells and dug out a moat together. Shortly before Ryan woke up we found a shady spot in the grassy area under a tree and Maggie ate her way through two pluots, some fish crackers and a lollipop I had stashed away as a wee little surprise for her. When Ryan woke up, he took in his new surroundings and looked briefly bemused before crunching his way through a juicy apple and running off in the grass and then down towards the sand. He was quite eager to get his feet wet, wading into the water past his belly button before lunging forward into a belly flop -- his belly flop took me quite by surprise. I think he was after the buoy that he was mistaking for a ball and maybe trying his first hand as swimming (he's watched Maggie at her swimming classes many, many times).

The Mother's Beach in LB is really a great place to take tots and nervous swimmers. There is no tide and the only waves are ones created by boats moving by. The beach is not that long either so there is less area to loose sight of your child. The added bonuses is that parking is close so there's no lugging all your gear and there is grass and shaded area near by with restrooms and your traditional park with slides and swings. I spent a good two and half hours there with my little ones, maybe longer and I'm quite sure if it wasn't my curtailing them to get in the car we'd could have spent another hour or two.

On getting the kids back to the car the standard half hour exercise turned into a game of chasing the pigeons. Maggie found this particularly exciting, requesting to get out of the car one more time to try and catch one while Ryan was happily flicking through his Matisse book and I was putting all the beach gear back in the boot (aka:trunk). During rising frustration (on both our parts) Maggie and I had a conversation about pigeons; how sometimes they're called homing pigeons, how they are sometimes used to send messages and really belong outside to fly free in the sky and perch in the trees. However, she was quite insistent that we could take one home for a pet and that she just needed some help in catching one.

She requested a phone call to Daddy and I indulged her in the privilege. She talked to hubby on the phone while I started the drive home. The conversation went something like this -:

Maggie: Daddy!
Daddy: Hi Maggie.
Maggie: I went to the beach today.
Daddy: You did? Did you go in the water?
Maggie: Yes. I went all the way up to my knees and Ryan went in up to his belly button!
Daddy: Chuckles. Wow. Did Ryan love being in the water? Was the water cold for him?
Maggie: Yes, but I have longer legs now.
Daddy: Oh. Wow. You went in the water. That sounds like so much fun.
Maggie: Yes. Daddy can you help me catch a pigeon? I can't catch them.
Daddy: Yes, you have to be very quick don't you?
Maggie: I want one for a pet. Can you help and come back to the same beach?
Daddy: I would love to go back there with you. We have to be very fast to catch a pigeon
Maggie: Yes, but I don't have enough gas in my body to be fast enough. I need your help.

Maggie only has on pair of legs

This morning Ryan was in Maggie's bedroom opening and closing her draws one by one and having a whale of a time. Maggie and I were sitting on her bed discussing which clip(s) she would be wearing in her hair.

Ryan started to pull out all the pants from her draw at which point Maggie got distracted turned in a huff to Ryan and said, "Ryan I don't have that many legs!"

I couldn't keep in my chuckle -- the comical timing was perfect.