Merry Richmas to All

Rich arrived without a hitch on December 24 (that is vair vair unlike us) and we set off to the lovely land of Reading. Rich thought he wouldn't feel the jetlag, so we made lots of plans for the day he landed, however after immediately entering my room we both collapsed and fell into a deep slumber (vair vair like us). We woke up about five hours later and decided to find something to eat and see the new Harry Potter movie. I have been complaining for weeks that there are no Mexican places to eat in England, yet 15 minutes on the street with Rich and he found a delicious Burrito place. He has since also managed to locate a Jamaican restaurant, which I have walked by every day and not observed. I have managed to locate Mark & Spencers, House of Fraser, McDonalds, Lush, Jamie Oliver's restaurant, and Boots...WASP to the core.

Since moving here, I have been reunited with my inner nerd and obsessively reading HP books and rewatching the movies. Much to Rich's delight, I sobbed loudly throughout the latest movie as J.K. Rowling decided to kill off as many characters as possible for her audience of children. If you thought I might have been handling the movie poorly, you should have seen the hovel of children in front of us sobbing into the sleeves of their Gap Kids sweaters. I will definitely be trying to seek out Miss Rowling to give her a piece of my mind and explain to her that my blog is a hit without me ever having to write about killing off my loved ones. Your welcome.

Rich and I also planned several day trips into London and to Stonehenge, however after planning our routes and hours of looking at maps, I discovered that the Reading train station is closed until January 4th while they fix some of the train tracks. This means that we have to take a bus to Maidenhead (up to 40 minutes depending on which bus you take) then catch a train to London (40 minutes also) adding a hefty amount of time to our journey considering if there were no repairs, we can catch a train that takes 30 minutes for us to get to London. I might also be inclined to mention the bus isn’t anything like in Canada. Seats seem to be much smaller, there is much less leg room, and people pack into small spaces without any regard for personal space. More often than not, I feel an affectionate touch, thinking Rich is being sweet however, it is often gigantic, sweaty men that have names like Jeb.

Our first day trip was to the British Museum, which is as close to heaven as I think I will get on earth. I love museums more than I love kittens, which says a lot as I fancy myself a soft kitten. The sheer size of the building is enough to put people in awe, but then stumbling into the Room of Enlightenment I felt like Indiana Jones or that chick from the Mummy. They had so many artifacts that they could not display them all and had to line the walls up to the ceiling and have a mini guide so you knew what they were. In Rich and my relationship, I have dragged him to a lot of museums (oh joy unbounded) however, we have been slightly disappointed with the quality of them in Canada. Several places we have been have displayed “replicas” of artifacts or fake animals. Why would anyone want to look at a replica of an artifact and why would said artifact be placed behind a glass case? If it’s fake, let me manhandle it to see what the real thing would look like up close. If you are going to cage a fake, I might as well google image that thing and use my zoom option to get a better gander. You don’t see Madame Tussaud putting her wax figures of Denzel or Cher behind a barrier. I can pose as inappropriately as I want with a waxy Bruce Willis or fist bump Obama. Anyway, at the British Museum, everything is totally, 100% legit. If it says I am looking at the Rosetta Stone, I can practically see the sweat from the palms of the stone chiseler.

The only drawback to going over Christmas, is the amount of tourists that ram themselves into the museum. We were bumped, shoved, groped, and violated in as many ways as you can imagine. My favourite part is lining up a perfect shot only to have someone step right into your frame and start taking 1000 photos per second…not. I tried to keep my patience and limit my temper, however one man pushed me to the limit. We had been at the museum for a solid hour when I found four statues I wanted to photograph. A man kept repeatedly stepping into my photos until I unleashed a rage of side comments that would make Sue Sylvester blush. He got the point and apologized, yet managed to dominate the photo again. Here is what I got:

Thanks buddy. Now when my children go through photos of my trip forty years from now, they will wonder who the strange man is that is in all my photographs. I am really glad he could take this journey with us...

Finally, two hilarious moments. Rich and I were talking about exports in the museum (we can no longer remember how this topic came about) however after being shoved multiple times, my darling, endlessly patient, and quite quiet boyfriend said aloud, “Well apparently manners are the main export of Canada.” People’s heads turned and I burst out laughing as they continue to shove him along.

Lastly, we were both winding down from traveling so far and walking all day, so our moods were somewhat somber as we entered the final room we were going to see that day. As we walked in, a man was holding his very young daughter's hand trying to navigate her through the crowd. She was not really looking where she was going and when he sidestepped a display of King Tut,  she was dragged directly into the glass case, making the distinct sound that occurs when a body (specifically the face) hits glass at high velocity. The sheer force of the collision, caused her to spin off the side of the display and roll into her father, who looked very sheepish as everyone was watching open-mouthed and making gasping-chortling laughter sounds. I, of course, am much less subtle and just shouted to Rich, “Did you see that??? AWESOME!” as he steered me away laughing loudly as well.

All in all, it has been a busy start to our holiday, but we are going to keep on. Tomorrow we are off to see the British Aquarium, the House of Parliament, and Buckingham Palace. Pip pip, cheerio!

Swan Lake Ballet

I am not a religious person by any means, but sometimes I wonder if there are signs that show us we are in the right place in our lives. Just now I had a moment that might be construed as some sort of sign.

About a month ago, I started to really get into classical music. I went on a website to look up influential songs or popular classical songs. I downloaded just over 120 songs and put them all in an album so I can shuffle through them.

Just now, I put my itunes on random and somehow I had not managed to hear every one of the classical songs I downloaded, because a song came on that immediately made me gasp. I had heard the song before, about 15 years ago with my grandma Jean. I used to have sleepovers with her when I was younger and they were one of the highlights of my childhood. We would stay up late (probably 9:30) watching old movies and eating huge bowls of chocolate crackle ice cream, then tuck into her huge bed with the fan blowing and fall asleep to classical music. There was one tape that she played and one specific song that I loved. Being about 8 at this time, I remember asking her at least four times what the song was called, having her say the name, and it being so long that I would forget and need her to repeat it again. She passed away not long after that and I never remembered the name of the song. It's hard to find a classical song if you don't remember any of the title, with no lyrics to google. All I could remember was the strings and how they made me think of water.

So, hearing the song almost 15 years later, I was immediately transported back into Jean's bed and I can remember exactly what the room looked like, smelled like, and felt like. Sign? Who knows. But why would I randomly stumble across it now?

The song, Act 1 Waltz from the Swan Lake Ballet by Tchaikovsky. Hearing more of the songs from the play, it was likely a tape of the whole musical that we listened to, because I am recognizing more and more. Great find.

For anyone who would like to listen:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QsPnZjdD3XY&feature=related

Also listen to part 1/8 and 3/8, they are the most memorable to me.

I just waterboarded our toddler lol...

What's worse than being sick and having to stay in bed for a week? Being healthy and having nothing to do but sit in your bed for a week. I noticed I was on the mend when I began to obsess about the standards of my living. For the past sick week, I was throwing kleenex in the general direction of the garbage, letting hair from my brush fall onto the floor by my sink, and sleeping on the same sheets after not showering for days. Basically, I was living in a sick pit. When I finally opened my curtains on the weekend, the glow of sunlight seemed to have awoken my disgust with myself. This sent me into an obsessive-compulsive spiral of cleanliness. I bought a vacuum cleaner, dusted windowsills, spent hours in the laundromat, threw out old curtains, scrubbed the toilet, and sanitized all my cutlery in boiling water. I am not well enough to travel around (I am working up my stamina to being outside in the cold. I can be out of the house for about two hours before I collapse) so I have to spend a lot of time in my room. When sick, I was content to lingering under the sheets and reading hours of Harry Potter books, but now I haven't felt moved to hear the call of Dumbledore's Army for a while. So what do I do? Well, I spent three hours wrapping Christmas presents to send home for my family only to find out that this Christmas, terrorists have had the same plan, but instead of presents being sent to family, they are wrapping bombs for infidels. Security has advised that no one pack wrapped presents in their luggage or they might be unwrapped by security and therefore damaged. I haven't decided if I will send all my gifts wrapped with Rich, and hope they don't get unwrapped by security or if I will unwrap them all so they don't get smashed up by security when they "unwrap" them. I guess it also depends on whether Rich decides to shave before he flies home, because often his Jamaican decent can be mistaken for terrorist if his beard has gotten away from him.

So I have decided to fill my evenings with watching my favourite tv shows that I have missed for the past six weeks. Modern Family has kept me laughing, which balances out my tears from watching Grey's and terror from watching Criminal Minds. Almost completely caught up, and not a moment too soon as Rich will be arriving soon and we can share some cleverly referenced jokes during our daily banter (we are that cool).

Tomorrow I plan on an outing to London, as there is no work for me for the rest of this week. I might see some museums, and will definitely be hitting up some markets. A travel to London takes about 35-40 minutes by train to London Paddington, then anywhere from 25 - 40 minutes on the underground to wherever I need to go. I also have yet to master reading train departure signs/time tables and have befriended one train manager who guides me every evening after work. One day he tried to actually explain how I can read the screens on my own, however my eyes glazed over so fast, he just told me the platform and the time and never attempted to teach me again. Now he just greets me and tells me where to go without me having to ask. I will definitely be giving him a Christmas card when I see him next.
Anyway, megavideo has now allowed me to return to watching Criminal Minds after waiting the usual 54 minutes between shows. I have somewhat desensitized myself from the show by convincing myself that since none of the killers have British accents, certainly these heinous crimes are only committed in America and therefore I have nothing to fear. La-la-la-la *fingers in ears*

Brush with Death

Sorry for not writing sooner. As it is, I had to mentally prepare myself on my bed for about 20 minutes to get up the nerve to cross my room and open my laptop. For just over 2 weeks, I have has this terrible cough, congestion, fever problem and although it seemed to be better this weekend, I was struck down Monday night with intense fever and pains. Moving about has been somewhat of a trying task.

I went to the doctor yesterday and he gave me a new prescription of antibiotics (the other seemed to work, but didn't last long enough to kill everything). He assured me there would be no problems and sent me on my merry way. Well today, after two doses (1 tablet 3 times daily) I started feeling slightly funny in the head. I continued to read in my bed, until the light hit my right arm and I swore I saw a few dots that had not been there before. I checked my left arm and sure enough there were dots there too. I pulled back the covers and my entire body was covered in red bumps. I ran to my trusty sidekick, Noks and asked where I should go/what I should do. A roommate should never look so frightened when gazing upon your face...I knew I was in trouble. The skin around my face had begun to swell up quite nicely into a little puff. I looked like I was holding a snowball behind my lips.

So I rushed to the clinic and they saw me right away. They gave me a high dose anti-histamine and kept me for observation to make sure my throat didn't close or I didn't drift into a never-ending slumber. I was sent home, told to discontinue the meds, and take these new ones to combat the remaining bumps. My legs have the worst of it, but luckily what makes me the big bucks (my face) has returned to normal.

In the meantime, to keep busy while on bed-rest I have developed several addictions:
-Honey & Vanilla Tea
-Harry Potter books
-watching the HP movie right after finishing the book (disappointed with the 5th movie, I expected better)
-guessing what time it is when I have awoken from a nap, then seeing how close I am after checking (I have a little tally beside my bed)
-making toilet paper outfits for Pinkball, my favourite being his three-piece tuxedo or afternoon vest
-sleeping

Anyway, if you have any suggestions for me to occupy my time that don't involve me getting up from my bed, please let me know.

Humas

I forgot to mention that the other day my dear Moth brought it to my attention that she thought it was funny how in Seinfeld, George's dad invents Festivus as a substitute for Christmas. She cleverly drew a parallel between Festivus and her invented holiday of Humas.

Background:
One year, not too long ago, about a month before Christmas my mom began obsessively saying "well merry effing Christmas to me" or just "well merry Christmas to me." Let me give you a situation.
Katie "Mom, can you please iron my shirts?"
Moth "Well, on my day off? Hmm Merry effing Christmas to me"
When the lovely month of February rolled around, Sean finally burst and forbid my mom from saying merry Christmas any longer. Calmly, my mom looked at him and replied, "well Merry f*****g Humas to me."
Pure genius. I would like to say that my mom's calling was reached when she graduated top in her class at Laurier, or got married, or had a beautiful daughter, but nay nay, only when she came up with THE best word to respond, did she meet her potential. From that day, a lifestyle was born. We hashed out details in the kitchen soon after, deciding Humas would begin December 28 and end November 11 (when we REMEMBER Humas is over and we can again resume saying Merry f*****g Christmas) Our council met again this year however, and decided that November 11th is a tad used up, so we moved the ending of Humas to the 25th, and we remember because it's exactly a month before the big day. Humas spread like wildfire through my friends and our family, solidifying my mom's place among the greatest inventors.

Things that are funny in the Seinfeld situation:
1) Mom HATES Seinfeld with a deep rooted passion in her heart, so to hear her openly admit that something on the show was even mildly amusing is hilar.
2) She almost seemed to hint that Humas was a completely unique idea/invention that our family spawned and somehow Seinfeld even caught on to our idea (Humas is much newer than Festivus)
3) All this time, mom has thought that Sean and I were completely brilly-brills for rounding out the finer details of Humas, when the concept of a Christmas substitute/new holiday invention was something we no doubt were influenced by Seinfeld.
4) Mom DID in fact spawn Humas out of thin air and being an active hater of Seinfeld, it was purely of her own comedic genius that it came into existence. Basically saying that my mother is as funny as Jerry Seinfeld or Larry David AND I will go as far to say that if Seinfeld was never written, my mom would likely have written a screenplay for a show named Smeinfeld and had episodes such as "The Salad Nazi" "The After Eight" "The Handicapable Spot" and "The Ruffly Shirt"

She might also have written some other episodes such as:
- The Fortune Cookie aka The Nemesis
- The Hip Hop Class
- The Dog Salad

(Enquire within if you are unsure of any of these infamous tales of my Moth)

Sleeping Beauties

I am back to work despite my terrible hacking cough, which is amplified when I come from the rather chilly outside, to a well-heated classroom and vice-versa. And now that I think about it, I seem to be doing a lot of outdoor yard duties as the weather cools down, even when I check the overall staff schedule and the teacher I am filling in for isn't down for any duties that day...hmmm... My cough is getting so bad that when I approach classes, children are likely cowering under their desks thinking Gollum is coming for their preciouses. (This joke beat out "the children think I am another one of Marge Simpson's sisters" and "the children think I am their creepy Uncle Marty who smokes two packs a day and always sits in the dimly lit corners at family get-togethers")

The past two days have been rather unreal though and super laid back. Schools are really gearing up for their Christmas assemblies, so most of the classes I have taught in are just practicing all day. I am actually surprised by how many Christmas activities the schools are doing, especially with the high Muslim population in London schools. One girl told the TA yesterday that her dad wouldn't let her sing about Jesus or Christmas in the play. To which the TA responded, "oh just sing 'cheeses' at the 'Jesus' bits." She shrugged and skipped off, totally chill with the whole thing. Hilarious.

Today, my reception class (British equivalent to our kindergarden) had to go watch a two hour assembly put on by the junior years. This included all the stations of the cross (look 'em up, there are a lot), songs, poems, prayers, and the story of Mary & Joe traveling to Bethlehem for Jesus' birth. All well and good, and beautifully put on, but about 30 minutes in, I felt a thud on my left shoulder. A dear boy, who had been trying to keep his heavy eyelids open, finally bit the dust and collapsed in a deep slumber on my shoulder. After that, it was like a pandemic. The moment the children saw one child give into temptation (pun intended) they all took it as being socially acceptable. It was like the movie The Matrix, when people in the matrix get unplugged in the real world and collapse dead. Children were dropping into coma-like trances and could not be roused. The boy immediately to my right slid off the pew and onto the floor and still would not wake up. The TA was silently howling at the scene and I was slightly panicking, worried that the other teachers would be judging me allowing them to continue to dream. We had to give in because: a) they are four, b) it WAS two hours, and c) they had ROAST BEEF for school dinner - any grown human would be a tad sleepy after a full roast meal for lunch. I had to take two children on my lap (the ones that seemed most likely to fall off the pew and crack their heads) and two leaning on my shoulders. The TA had several children collapsed on her as well. One little girl was snoozing so peacefully and making those cute sleepy noises and sucking her thumb.

I did feel bad for the juniors because we were in the front row and they were only a few feet away from us, singing directly at our class all the while their immediate audience weren't even conscious and it was very noticeable. Luckily, the head teacher saw us and mouthed 'how cute' so I knew I didn't have to start giving any of the kids hard jabs in the ribs to keep them awake.

Another successful teaching day completed. I really feel like I have fulfilled my calling being a cushion for children to snooze on and an observer of Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer sang every different way possible. Welcome to the good life.

*Crackle Crackle Wheeze Wheeze

Achoo sneeze! (Nice rhyme - title + first line...oh nevermind, aha another rhyme, ok stop and I mean it....anybody want a peanut?)

Anyway, I have bronchitis. Sucks. I managed to score some intense jimmy though...if only I could pay for it. The doctor was like, "oh we don't prescribe medications with codeine in it" and I was like "oh yes you do..." I explained my family history and how I sprayed yellow vomit all over my floor from a coughing fit this morning and he began looking up meds in his big book of drugs-not-to-prescribe-anyone-who-seems-to-be-drug-seeking. I think it was the detail with which I spoke about the vomit that really pushed him over the edge..."and then, sprays of yellow, which reminded me much of a dragon spurting flames toward a small Albanian village, foamed and shot from my nose and mouth -" you get the picture. He promptly gave me antibiotics and a high dose of codeine syrup. I will be slumbering like a baby.

This also means that I have missed out on infecting children today and also tomorrow because I cannot fill said prescriptions until tomorrow morning because my appointment was after hours. I already thought it was slightly shady that the doc agreed to stay late for an appointment with me, but I informed Sean where I would be and if I didn't contact him, to start searching for me in an ice bath with my kidneys missing. 

Anyway, my fever and constant cough has made me slightly loopy so forgive me if this post is off the wall. Noks was quite pleased that I was given something to stop my cough. I thought her telling me about the doctor's office was out of general concern, but today she again impressed upon me how thin our walls were and how much I coughed throughout the night.

Ho hum pig's bum. Anyway, off to eat some clear liquids (what my diet has consisted of) and watch ER. It is Dr. Carter's last season and I am beginning to feel quite low about the whole thing. I guess that's what happens when you invest on watching 11 seasons of a character. It's really nice to travel around the world, only to stay in your room and watch tv!

(not)

Prison Number 29786

SO my roomie Noks just let me know that she met the guy living upstairs......... and saw his house arrest anklet. She tried to reassure me that he would only ever be allowed out on house arrest if he wasn't a major danger to society. Major or minor = still a danger.
I was going to leave a passive aggressive note in the bathroom to whoever was smoking, windows closed on the toilet and dumping their ashes in the sink, but now I have reconsidered. Noks may have just saved my life.

Which brings me to the next update: Noks and I have solidified a friendship with an hour gossip session about our prison house mates. She knocked on my door because she wanted to explain to me how to register with a doctor. She said she was really worried about my cough and I should get it checked out. I guess I have not been as quiet in my sleep as I thought. The great thing about a house friend is now if I am choking in my room, I know I can run to her for the heimlich maneuver (my biggest fear and why I refuse to ever live in the country - choking and having no one able to revive me). OR if I suffer a terrible accident in my room, she will realize I am missing and seek me out, rather than waiting weeks for my decaying body stench to alert someone to my mishap. She is also happy that I am CPR trained.

Today a boy said to me "Miss, if we behave right nicely can we show you some things? Like some sweet dance moves on the carpet?" I didn't tell him that even if they were dicks, I would allow them to because it would be outrageous, but I did agree. A maths, science, and literacy lesson later, I was transported into breakdance heaven. Year fours can move, let me tell you. My particular favourite is "the hump" which I have named rightfully so and basically involved the ground and some ridic pelvic thrusting. Who knew the British loved to bust a move so much? Two days in a row and I am feeling pretty blessed.

Today also happens to be my stepfather's birthday. First time I think I have ever missed celebrating it at home. *Sniff. Miss my fam jam. xoxo Sean. I wanted to send him something in the post, however when I enquired on the prices to do so, I thought it would be pretty inappropriate to just send the empty packaging as that would be all I could afford. A nice skype conversation will have to do. I also have to stay up until my eyes bleed to have said conversation due to the time difference, so I am pretty sure it is as great as receiving a shiny new present in the post.

Final Destination...Death by Shower

If you have ever seen the movie Final Destination or even Saw, you will understand my sheer panic.
I was in my shower which is already a glass case of emotion, made for infants, when I pressed the button to turn on the water and nothing came out. I fussed about with the nozzle, the temperature dials, and all the settings, but nothing more than a trickle ran out. Showers in the UK are typically powered by this stupid box on the wall instead of taps, yet another clever invention of the British (not).

As I was about to retreat to my room, settling for being a grease ball for another day, I heard a high-powered piston-type sound, much like the sound of air breaks on a rollercoaster such as The Bat. I looked up, into the shower head which is directly above me when scalding hot water poured out over my entire body with such a force that I was blown back into the glass doors of my standing shower. I couldn't get out. The glass doors are on rusty old tracks which are impossible to maneuver even if flesh-melting water isn't running over your tender bits.

I instead, rolled back and forth against the glass until I managed to burn off just enough nerve endings to endure the pain long enough to smash through the glass latch and run sopping wet onto my bathroom floor.  I really felt like I was trapped and going to melt to death in this tiny shower, found the next day by my grungy boy room mates. In fact, there is a scene in Final Destination where two girls are burned alive in a tanning bed, very much the same as my situation. I turned off the shower, fiddled some more and settled for a freezing shower to stop my arms from blistering.

Here is the hell I am referring to:

Lego and Let it Snow

After yesterday, I believe the universe felt they owed me one and gave me the best year one class I could have asked for. Not only were they super cute, but they also made me full out laugh SO many times (plus it didn't hurt that the school cafeteria was free for teachers to eat lunch, woop woop). The teacher whose class I was covering for, was called away for the day and hadn't planned anything, so she let me do some really fun lessons and pretty much just chill with the kids. For maths, we were focusing on spatial awareness so the class busted out huge tubs of Lego to build houses to scale. 

One of the kids made a giant house, but didn't put in a door. When I asked him why, he said "it's a prison for my brother, he sucks." Hearing a proper British child say something sucks is actually hilarious and he was promptly awarded full marks. At lunch time, the cafe served meat lasagna but they needed a vegetarian and halal alternative, so they just served all those children cheese that had been grated to look like spaghetti. I was like "eat your noodles Nasma" and the little girl said "this is just cheese, if I eat it, I will get a tummy ache." The cheese was mounded on their plates in huge helpings, mucho disgust but absolutely hilarious. 

The rest of the afternoon we practiced for the Christmas assembly, which meant I put on a cd the teacher made of seven songs the kids had to learn. They were busting out some sweet dance moves and they had actions to each lyric. Some of the songs included what you would expect i.e. Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer and Jingle Bells, but then there were some other gems like Bad by Michael Jackson, The Lion Sleeps Tonight by the Tokens, and Walk Like a Robot by some Kids Pop Band. For Bad, the routine planned for the assembly, was boys rolling around the floor like break dancing, while the girls made a circle around them saying "ooh ooh." Best. Day. Ever. I wish I had a camera because by the end of it, tears were streaming down my face from laughing at how sweaty they were getting dancing so hard. The dancing was also choreographed, so it wasn't like loser Romp-A-Room stuff where kids just hop around like they are in a bouncy castle. The moves were so legit and every single child knew them.

I don't know if this post makes me a loser for even writing about loving building lego houses and watching dance routines, but I think it actually makes me pretty awesome (poss why Julia thought I would be into LARPing...I am not.). Either way, I know I have chosen the right profession because kids always think talking about lego and dancing your butt off is cool. Win.