Last Wednesday when I consulted my not so trusty weather widget, this is what I saw...
My heart skipped a beat. Wow! I mean, wow. With all that possibility of snow, I figured we were bound to get a a flurry or two. By Thursday the BBC was predicting a MAJOR snow fall in southeastern England with some places receiving 20 cm (8 inches) of the white stuff. Thursday night the snowfall began right on schedule. The Boy and I wrapped up The Babe and stood in the doorway of our cottage for a grand total of 10 seconds so he could feel his first snow fall and so I could nab this pic.
Sadly, this was about as much snow as we got. It was definitely not Blizzard '09. Accumulation topped out at maybe 1/4 of an inch. Whoopee. And then there was today...
Today The Babe and I unwisely traveled into Canary Wharf for some shopping. It was a nerve wracking experience - people EVERYWHERE, lines a mile long. And I was in a grocery store. With the baby SUV. Doh! What was I thinking? I normally do my Christmas shopping online and NEVER venture out to the malls during Christmas week. Sometime while I was being driven insane it began to rain and on the walk home I noticed little ice chips on my coat. "Oh," I said to The Babe, who was snugly warm and rainproof in his buggy, "a degree or so more and I do believe we could have snow." I made it home sporting the wet rat look. The Babe was extra grumpy and hungry, so we settled in for a cuddle and a snack. When I finally had a chance to look out of a window an hour later, big fat snow flakes and about an inch of snow greeted me.
Snow. I turn into a little 6 year old girl every time.
The Babe and I have a routine that includes an afternoon walk. Everyday around 3 come rain or shine or uncomfortable heat or freezing cold or gail force wind we gear up appropriately and head out for a little exercise and fresh air. Normally that means a walk into Greenwich either along the Thames, in the park, or through the Old Royal Naval College. Yesterday we went with the Royal Naval College route and found ourselves smack in the middle of the movie set for THE KING'S SPEECH. It stars this guy as King George VI:
That's right. I found myself in the presence of Mr. Darcy himself, Colin Firth. But wait! There's more. Wanna know who else is in this movie...?
Yup! Jennifer Ehle aka Miss Elizabeth Bennett. Which means that there could very well have been a Jane Austin P&P reunion! And here's the kicker... I DIDN'T HAVE MY CAMERA!!!!
{I (heart) you guys...}
*sigh*
Not only did I not have my camera, but I was also not wearing my glasses. So, to be honest, I didn't actually see Colin either, but from the number of folks taking pictures with their camera phones, I know that he was one of those blurry people a scant 20 odd feet away.
*In case you're wondering, Pony and Trap is cockney for crap.
Here's The Babe practicing his rolling over skills.
Prior to discovering this awesome new ability he HATED being on his belly. Now that he knows he doesn't have to stay there if he doesn't want to, Tummy Time isn't so bad. In fact now he rather enjoys the new point of view. After all, the world looks totally different when you're on your front than it does when you're on your back. And that got me thinking.
Sometimes in life there are situations that seem hopeless. We struggle and fight and cry and rage because it seems there are no choices. But there are always choices. They're probably not perfect, but they exist. The trick is to figure out what those choices are and how, if, and when to apply them. Once that's done, though, maybe the best thing to do is just sit back and relax. Life's too short to do all that fretting. And who knows? Maybe it's even possible to enjoy the view.
2009 has been one big, huge, life changing, amazing highs and heartbreaking lows kind of year.
First, the amazing highs:
January saw the birth of my little sister's third baby boy. In March we resumed our vagabond ways, returning to Edinburgh, this time with his super awesome cousin (who wished to be known as Lips). She has a serious thing for all things Scottish. So great is the power of the Scotsman that this otherwise fearless, brilliant, beautiful, and witty woman is turned into a blushing, giggling 13 year old girl in his brogueish and gingery presence.
They serve a pretty good Scottish breakfast, too.}
In April The Boy and I spent Easter/2nd anniversary of our marriage in Paris, which was amazing and romantic and beautiful and all the other things you think of when you think of Paris in the springtime.
In May we took a brief trip back to the States to visit grandparents who are ill.
But most of all, I spent most of the year like this...
{at Stonehenge in June}
On 11 September at 3:18 in the morning The Boy and I welcomed our amazingly awesome little baby boy. We have been in baby love ever since.
After 8 years and three wonderful children, my little sister regretfully and reluctantly ended her marriage in November. The circumstances and events that have followed have been and continue to be deeply hurtful to my sister, her boys, and our entire family but she has bourn all with such uncommon courage, strength and grace that I am in awe of her everyday.
I know. This sounds like a silly question. Expectant parents ask a lot of those. Lying in bed at night, counting kicks, The Boy and I try and imagine what our little one will be when he grows up. Will he want to bravely go where no man has gone before and be an astronaut? Will he be good at sports and become a baseball player? What about an attorney like his daddy? Or a musician like his mama? Will he follow in the footsteps of so many in our family and become a medical professional? Will he be able to tell a good story and become a writer or director or actor? Will he want to enter the military or public service? Will he want to be President of the United States? He's not even here yet and the world is so full of possibilities. Except, perhaps, for that last one.
If you've been watching the news from/in the United States lately, then you're probably aware of something called The Birther Movement. In a nutshell, there are those who believe that President Barack Obama's birth certificate is a big ol' fake, that he was not born in the US state of Hawaii but in Kenya, is not an American citizen, and thus ineligible to be President of the United States. They are a pretty passionate group of people, as evidenced by this video from a town hall meeting in Delaware.
I find this movement particularly upsetting because, in less than one month, I will be giving birth to our bouncing baby boy here in London. He will have a British birth certificate. He will not be a British subject. He will, by right of blood, be a US citizen like his mother and father and generations of both our families stretching all the way back to Colonial America. Our son will have 5 great grandparents who served the US during World War II, as well as two grandfathers who are retired from the the US Armed Forces. He will be raised as an American in an American household that happens to be in the United Kingdom. And yet, this woman and everyone cheering her on is implying that these things will mean nothing if, in 35 years, my child wants to run for the highest office in the land simply because he has a foreign birth certificate. According to this movement, it's not the blood ties of your family and national identity that make you a citizen of a country, but the actual physical place you are born. By that rational, any foreign worker, visitor or tourist to the United States, legal or not, could give birth to a child there and that child would have one right that my son would never have - to be elected and serve his country as President.
As of 2007 there were an estimate 6.6 million US citizens living abroad. That's more people living outside the US than in the state of Washington or Arizona or Indiana or Tennessee or any of the other 32 states with populations less than 6.6 million people. Should the children of these Americans be forever excluded from having the option of running for President or Vice President because their parents happened to be working or living in or visiting another country at the time of their birth? Does this somehow make them less American?
I try not to delve into the political here on Belle Abroad, despite the the fact that I increasingly find myself being pulled in that direction. That's not what this blog is suppose to be about. But this movement upsets me so much that I find myself needing to ask you, dear reader, to close your eyes and imagine your perfect candidate. This person is charismatic and articulate, funny and smart, tough and compassionate and full of ideas - most of them you actually agree with! They have a long history of public service and devotion to their family and all the other things that make them your perfect candidate.
Now, would you really not vote for them just because, even though they are US citizens and have been since birth, they weren't actually born in the United States?
My heart skipped a beat. Wow! I mean, wow. With all that possibility of snow, I figured we were bound to get a a flurry or two. By Thursday the BBC was predicting a MAJOR snow fall in southeastern England with some places receiving 20 cm (8 inches) of the white stuff. Thursday night the snowfall began right on schedule. The Boy and I wrapped up The Babe and stood in the doorway of our cottage for a grand total of 10 seconds so he could feel his first snow fall and so I could nab this pic.
Sadly, this was about as much snow as we got. It was definitely not Blizzard '09. Accumulation topped out at maybe 1/4 of an inch. Whoopee. And then there was today...
Snow. I turn into a little 6 year old girl every time.
