I Don't Get It.

As I (Matt) was enjoying Christmas, I discovered a little present Santa left for me. It was a tasty treat, a Reese's peanut butter cup, flown in all the way from the US. I happily unwrapped the foil and popped it straight into my mouth, savouring the rich, peanut butter chocolatey taste. As I was enjoying it, I suddenly became aware of an unusual texture. Trying to decipher what it was, I internally deconstructed the assortment of flavours in my mouth. Upon separating the unusual texture, I hastily spat it out of my mouth. To my chagrin, I discovered I had been eating what turned out to be the internal wrapping of the peanut butter cup!

I don't get it. Why are there two wrappings?

Happy Holidays!

We could give Charlie Brown a run for his money...

Wow, it's been so long since we've updated, I'm truly sorry. But we've been traveling for what feels like forever and only just returned last week. And trust me, it takes that long to recover from jet lag in Australia. And because of our being out of the country, we're a little behind on our Christmas decorating. Which brings me to the main subject about this blog.

One of the few...what's the word...flaws that Matt has, is that he is lacking a little bit in the Christmas spirit department. He's a very practical person, and sometimes he can't understand why do something like decorate or wrap presents to be opened on Christmas when he can just give me the present as he buys it. And don't even get me started on his belief (or lack thereof) in Santa Claus. Now I'm totally a Christmasaholic. I love this time of year, I love the music, the lights, the feeling of goodwill toward men and the slight nip in the air. I love the food, and sitting in the living room with the lights off looking at the twinkling Christmas tree. I love shopping and getting the perfect gift for some one, and yeah I like getting gifts too (most people do, come on admit it).

Well, since we got back we haven't really done much as far as decorating. Matt is currently not working (his contract expired at the end of November and he's unlikely to pick up work again until January) we knew this was coming and we planned for it. But also with a baby on the way and mucho bucks having been spent on providing for said baby, we just don't have a whole lot left over for grand decorations. Which is fine with Scrooge McMatt, but not so much for me.

I have been teasing Matt about his lack of Christmas spirit and how it is not something that will continue too be acceptable in our house, especially next year when the baby comes. He's been taking it all in good humor, but that hasn't stopped him from trying to lure me over to the dark side. "Bah humbug" he tells me! Believe me he's got a long road ahead of him on that one. However I'd pretty much resigned myself to the fact that this year, Christmas would have to primarily be in my heart.

But, my parents happen to be the coolest people in the world and sent us a package. Inside the package were some much loved and craved s'mores poptarts (its not me, its the baby who wants them) as well as a mini Christmas tree complete with 'lights' and ornaments that can actually be hung on the tree. They also sent stockings for Santa to fill (because despite Matt's Grinch attitude, he has been a good boy this year). I set up the Christmas tree and half heartedly put some ornaments on. And sighed to myself more than once how challenging it is to be married to a grinch whose heart is three sizes to small. Once the tree was semi set up, we weren't sure where to display it. We have such a small flat with limited space there's just not much room.

This is where the Christmas miracle comes to play. After having only a half decorated tree for a few days, Matt somewhat grudgingly helped me finish putting the ornaments on the tree (I had all my best Christmas songs playing in the background, he was powerless to resist) and try to find a home for it. We finished the tree and it looked fine, but a little empty. We decided that it needed a star. But what could we use? I grabbed some notebook paper and hesitantly started thinking about how I was going to go about making a star (for those who know me, I'm so not good with things like this, it seems simple, but to me it's not) Matt seeing my distress, agreed to cut out the star (I am 5 months pregnant after all and supposed to stay away from unnecessary stress). He cut it out and to our delight, it actually resembled a star! However we couldn't have the star on lined notebook paper, so I looked for something to color it with. Matt produced a highlighter, but it didn't really do much. So Matt came up with the idea of cutting out yellow post it notes to be taped onto the notepaper star. He carefully measured and cut and taped various bits of post it notes until we finally had a beautiful yellow star to top off our tree. Then he suggested that we wrap our Christmas presents (we each got one small gift for the other) and put them under the tree. Or in this case under the chair that the tree was sitting on. Then Matt thought it would be cool to place the ornaments for a real tree (that were too heavy for our little one) around the base of the tree. See, we stole my sister Cyndi's idea and have tried to purchase an ornament from every country we've visited.

We got a package from my Aunt and that was placed under the tree. Our only two Christmas cards were placed around it and we were feeling pretty festive. For the rest of the night we admired our little Tree on a Chair and talked about how nice it was.

Here was its first home, on what we like to call the 'eatin' chair. Notice our American bough Xbox, to convert the voltage we have to use that large bulky transformer sitting next to it. Attractive eh?

Today, Matt woke up and decided that the chair was not an appropriate place for our tree. Nope, our little Christmas tree deserved its own place of honor. In our living room we have a book case. Only one of the shelves actually has books on it. The rest are papers (important and not) and over all junk that has collected on the shelves simply by nature of being a convenient place to put things. Well, Matt in his quest to create the perfect space cleaned off the shelves (I did help, but even I thought his ideas were getting a bit grand for the situation), moved things from the bottom shelves to the not used top shelf and then completely removed one shelf to create a large area of space. Then he painstakingly moved the (kind of unsteady) Christmas tree, all the ornaments, cards, presents etc into its new home. I pointed out that while it was a good space, our little one bulb light in our living room didn't really reach there very well and now the tree was in the shadow. We tried to come up with a solution, we don't have a lamp that we could place over there to shine on it...but as Matt pointed out, we do have a flashlight!

I have to admit, I was a little skeptical, a flashlight? How would that work? Its not a very big one, it was a stocking stuffer from my dad from last year and laying it on the ground wouldn't be very effective. But my cute husband, now bursting with the Christmas spirit, and humming 'Winter Wonderland' to himself would not be deterred. He rigged it so that the tiny flashlight could hang from the top shelf and when turned on, shine down onto the tree.

I have to admit. I was impressed and it works very well.

So where I thought it would take me a few years and a few kids to bring Scrooge McMatt over to the fairy light side, I was very impressed that he was able to get into the spirit so readily this year. Not only that, but he's been on the look out for me for candy canes everywhere he's been. He doesn't like them, but I love them. Who would've thought that London would be sold out of candy canes? We can't find them anywhere. Not in stores big or small, retail or grocery. It's a little worrying to me that the great candy cane shortage of '08 is not being picked up by every media outlet in the country. Ah well.

This is Matt working the tree's new home:


Take note of the suspended flashlight hanging from the next shelf:


And finally the finished product!


And a farther away shot:


So now the Ngai household is brimming with the Christmas spirit! Music is constantly hummed, stockings have been hung by the calendar with care and we look forward to spending our first Christmas as a family together.

I hope you all have wonderful Christmases as well. Oh, and tomorrow we (hopefully) find out what gender we're having baby-wise. My sister Cyndi, who is due a month after me, just found out she's having a girl, so we'll see. Watch this space!

Merry Christmas!

People With Kids Have the Advantage...

So something occurred to me the other day. I finally figured out why sometimes I have such a mental block with it comes to thinking up something even semi-interesting to blog about. It's because we don't have kids. Not yet anyway. And even in 6 months time when we do have one, its going to be awhile before he/she does anything interesting enough to blog about.

I mean think about it, most of the blogs I read (mostly from my family members and friends) usually revolve around something cute/funny/naughty/interesting their kids have done. Rarely do you get a blog that doesn't involve a kid story in some way. And that's okay. In fact, as a doting aunt, I'd rather read stories about my adorable nieces and nephews than my sibs any day (sorry, but you know it's true).

However when you don't have kids, you have to stretch a bit more to think of things to blog about. And if adults do the same things, it's just not as funny. I mean, I suppose I could write about the time when Matt was being unusually quiet and I found him dumping every toy he owns into the toilet. Or the time when he threw a huge temper tantrum in the store because I wouldn't buy him some candy and people shot me accusing looks as to why I couldn't control my husband better. But they're just not the same, and frankly, they're also not true (as far as you know).

I don't know, maybe by this time next year I can write about how Junior finally figured out how to roll over or started crawling. Sure, it's not that funny or precious, but it's a step in the right direction, isn't it?

It's The Little Things

I am not a good sick person. I admit it. Luckily, I usually don't get sick very often. Except for the last month. Actually, I have been sick for over a month. It started out with a cold that took a long time in going away, then it morphed into 'lingering cough/pretty bad morning sickness' (for those of you who don't know, yes I am). And just this week, as the morning sickness has finally started to die down, I got another cold. It's important to note that I wasn't quite over the last cold(s) that I had.

And this most recent one was a doozie. I can honestly say that I've never gone through so many tissues/kleenex/paper towels (last resort) in my life. My nose would not stop dripping/running/being an overall pain in the face. I went through an entire box of kleenexes in four hours. I went through an entire roll of TP earlier that day. And I wasn't wasting these things...I used every part to its fullest capacity. Then we ran out of TP and kleenexes, so I had to use paper towels. Ouch. And yeah, I feel like a real winner with this chapped skin around my nose and upper lip. I'm such a hottie these days.

But I don't want the blog to revolve around me and my ailments (though your sympathy is always welcome...even when I'm not sick). No, I'd like to give a shout out to my wonderful husband. I really did something right when I agreed to marry this guy. He's been wonderful. He's shopped especially for the softest tissues for my nose. He's handled my food aversions and sickness without a word of complaint. He's come home to me groaning on the couch, half delirious mumbling incoherently and either made dinner, or actually ate what I'd prepared in my delirium (like frozen veg that wasn't quite unfrozen) he's done all of this without any complaint. He's always concerned about me.

I've been trying to be a more positive person. Like I said, I don't do sick very well, and it's fine when it only hits me once a year or so, but this fall I've been having is rough. However, having such a great husband has helped me want to be a non-complainer. So I'm trying to power through with a smile. Personally, I prefer the complaining, but you know...I'm always up for new challenges.

So here are some of the quirks about my husband that I love. He'll be horrified that I did this, but our six month anniversary just passed and well, I feel like doing it.

So here it is, just a spattering of things that I love about Matt:

How he has to sleep with three pillows (I have one) and how he creates what he calls his 'fort', which involves two at the head, and one along the side of the bed (not my side, the side on the edge...I suppose I make up the other wall of the fort) this is very important to him. In fact, one night I asked to have one of his pillows because my doctor suggested that sleeping with my head propped higher up might help me drain. He willingly gave it over, but the next night the pillow was off of the spare bed and making up the missing wall of his fort.

He loves playing Fifa on Xbox. I don't begrudge him this. He works hard, he takes care of me, and he really loves it. It allows him to live out his fantasy of being a football (soccer for all the yanks out there) manager. He can sell and buy players and then play them in matches. Currently he's managing Fulham, which is both of our favorite team in the Premier. He gets so excited when he scores goals and wins games, and kind of pouts a little when he loses...it's funny.

In the middle of the night when I wake both of us up with one of my infamous coughing fits, he always sleepily asks me if I'm okay and if he can do anything. He usually stays awake to hear my response.

He debates things with me. We don't really argue, but we both tend to have strong opinions and are kind of stubborn (which according to our most recent ultrasound, our child has inherited). But he doesn't let me win. He, of course, is always right and always wants to be the one to win...then again so do I. We're competitive that way (friendly though).

He's a great uncle. When he married me he inherited 11 nieces and nephews. And he couldn't be happier. He's always on the lookout for things for the kids and will often say things like "we should pop into that McDonalds there and see if they have any good toys for (insert niece/nephew name here)" and on their birthdays he always insists that the presents be perfect, even if I, with all my years of vast experience think otherwise. This is why our very active 4 year old nephew got a battery powered water gun that shoots up to 25 feet. Sorry again Bek.

He daydreams with me. And he listens to my dreams and fears and hopes. And he does everything he can to make them come true. Even if some of them involve winning the lotto or inheriting a large amount of money. Which he's still working on.

He's a great provider. He's a great encourager. He's convinced that I can do whatever I want and that I'll succeed.

I could go on and on, but let's face it. Most of you stopped reading about five paragraphs ago. I don't care. It's our blog and our history and I'm just very appreciative of the wonderful man I get to spend forever with.

Mock me if you will. I don't care.

Now, I've got to go and tell Matt how proud I am of him because Fulham just beat Liverpool in PK's (on Fifa of course, that would never happen in real life, unfortunately). That's my man!

We built this city!

No this is not about the Starship song but more about the most populated city in the European Union. Yes, that’s right London.

One of things that strikes you as you walk around the many streets of this city is the amount of construction work happening all at once. The term hustle and bustle is aptly described by what you find in London with the constant flow of vehicle and people traffic complemented by the noise of the dust raising construction works. I work in one of the busiest districts of the city, right by the world famous Oxford Street and would often go for a walk around the block during my lunch hour. I thought it would be a good time to let you in on what I mean by building this city.

Early morning works by my office.


Lunch time walk around the block. Some the side streets.

Oxford St - This construction site seems to go on and on.

Is there anywhere where I can escape all this construction madness? This is what I'm thinking as I head back into my office…oh no, what's this, they've started in my building now...no, I guess not.

Things That Make You Go Hmmm...

I ate some peanut butter on toast today and it made me feel a little sick afterwards. Not knowing what I could do to alleviate this ailment, I decided to then eat some peanut butter cups.

I felt better.

Hmmmm...

Still Laughing...

Here's a joke I told Matt yesterday that he thought was really funny. In fact, he thought it was so funny, it was 'blog worthy' so here it is:

What did the tie say to the hat?

You go on ahead, I'll hang around here.

Pretty funny eh?

Yeah, you can thank us by sending money. Isn't a little bit of laughter for your day worth it?

Forced Update...

I don't really have much to update right now. But my semi-abusive husband told me if I didn't update our blog, then I would have to suffer the consequences. I think that means either a beating (if he has the energy) or I have to go without dinner tonight.

People told me that marriage would be hard, but I didn't think it would be this hard. Ah well. I made my bed and now I've got to lie in it, right?

So an update...hmmm...

I think I'll update about our neighbors who live upstairs from us. We live in an apartment complex. There are neighbors to each side of us (who we never hear) and neighbors above us. We didn't always have these neighbors, they moved in about three months or so ago, we remember hearing them walk around a bit, but nothing too major.

But then they got louder. And louder. We've determined this about them. They're of asian ethnicity and don't speak much English (that's kind of important later in the story) and they're young and they're loud. Really loud. We know there's a girl that lives up there and she has the most annoying laugh. It's really bad. And really loud. And not just loud during awake hours, but loud at night when we're trying to sleep. On a weekday.

But we were able to live with that. Until a disturbing trend started. We started noticing that several nights (on a school nights too) their door would buzz (our building works so that people outside buzz and you have to buzz to let them in, very Jerry Seinfeld) around 11:00 or so. The guy would be let up and we'd hear them talk and that annoying laugh would filter on down through.

So Matt and I head off to bed and all is well, right? Wrong. About 1am is when the dreaded guitar gets taken out. And it's not just quiet singing they do (we're pretty sure there's more than two, but usually its only the guy singing) but it's loud. And off key. And not very good. And often if he doesn't get the right chords, he'll go back and do it again and again. You know it's loud when you are sound asleep and are woken up. And you can't get back to sleep. No matter what. It's at these times when Matt and I start talking about what we can do to shut them up. Throw a rock at their window? Possibly. Go outside and buzz them pretending we're the police and we've had a noise complaint? Good one, but we need to improve our accents first. Go upstairs and knock on their door and when it opens push past them and head straight for the guitar and then break it? That one has come up more than once. Being sleep deprived will do that to you.

The worst thing isn't that they've ruined some of our best loved pop songs. Its that they have a particular liking to one song, a song we both used to like. But not anymore. This song is 'Torn' by Natalie Imbruglia. I personally think it's the only one in English that the laughing girl knows. I've actually heard her practicing by herself in her flat during the day. And it always gets played. Every time. More than once. Without fail.

These guitar sessions? They'll last until 4am. Not cool.

So we've talked to the porter, we've heard other neighbors knock on their door and complain (and get into a nice swearing match with the offenders) but nothing changes. What can be done?

Well, Matt and I are petty people. We know that. We accept that. And we have our own little form of revenge. Every morning Matt leaves for work and this has occurred. He buzzes them. They haven't had much sleep being up so late singing (of course, neither have we). But when the buzzer goes, you think someone is at your door. It makes them get up and check. We'll also buzz them when we get in at night. Yes, it's petty. Yes it doesn't do as much damage as we'd like it to.

But it makes us feel better. And really, when you're as sleep deprived as we are, you have to hold on to what you can.

Hopefully this update is good enough for my tyrannical husband. Do you know what he just did? Made me lunch! Doesn't he realize that I'm an independent woman who can make her own lunch? See what I mean? Abusive.

Celebrity sightings

"G'day from Aussie Nic" or that's what we think she said as she sped away from Abbey studios this morning. According to the reliable sources of the paparazzi who were stationed like army campers along the outer fencing, allegedly Nicole Kidman was in town. Kate managed to spot Nicole's vehicle escaping the claws of the paparazzi as they scrambled madly to their own waiting vehicles to catch up with her as she departed the building.

On other news, as I was strolling around the block on my lunch break. I spotted a crowd outside Claridges hotel in Mayfair. My curiousity aroused, I ventured a little closer and noticed Jack Black signing autographs outside the hotel. Pretty awesome eh? He seemed pretty happy to chat with the crowd before his entourage ushered him into his waiting private car. No doubt he was here promoting Tropic Thunder. Of course my camera phone decided not to respond that day, so by the time I managed to whip it out and wait for my lens to focus, he had already ducked into his car and sped away (as you can do in midday London traffic).

Oh by the way, we also saw Lee Mead.

Till next time, cheerio!

Long Live Lego

I don’t know about you, but as a kid I loved Lego. There was always something captivating about having a multitude of building blocks to create something that only you could imagine. I could spend hours upon hours happily building a sprawling city or a land of knights and castles or an intergalactic star base complete with spaceships, robots and space gizmos. From all these little pieces, something grand and magnificent was built. With youthful imagination and enthusiasm, these creations allowed my brothers and I to fly circles around enemy pilots, become renegade knights joining Robin Hood’s band of merry men or policing the streets of Lego city fighting crime. As often the case as a child, there was never enough time to play and bedtime always came too soon. But as I lay in bed drifting off to sleep, I felt the Lego pieces come alive, imagining they lived their lives while we slept, in whatever creative scenario we built for them.

Fast forward a few years and Lego gradually fell behind the age of computer games, movies and fast fun entertainment. Gone were the days of creating magical worlds and places out of building blocks. To be honest, some time later my only association I had with Lego was to see what kind of sales margin we could get out of the product and what kind of returns each Lego special promotion could make. (I used to work for a big multinational toy company).

My curiosity was piqued when I heard about the new release of the Lego video games. Being a fan of video games, I thought about it – would it be too childish to play these games? Would this be any fun at all, even to those who don’t like playing video games? After a little persuasion, Kate & I decided to give these products a test run, after all they were based on some of our favourite films, Star Wars and Indiana Jones and we were interested to see how they’d be adapted. After dodging laser shots from stormtroopers, teaming up to run riot with our lightsabers, flying/driving all sorts of vehicles and star ships, running around solving puzzles, digging up treasures and swinging across ravines with Indy’s whip and running away from large rolling boulders, all we can say is…woohoo!

From kids all ages, thank you Lego for bringing to life the joy of childhood imagination and for letting us have fun with it!

Please Pack Your Knives...

Matt and I have a new addiction. Unlike an addiction to drugs or alcohol or chocolate, this one can only make us better people. And by better people, I mean snobs. We're not snobs in everything, but lately, we're becoming arm chair food snobs. See, this snobbery came from our addiction. You know what they say, all addictions have some sort of bad side effect, and this is ours. Now don't get me wrong, we still eat and prepare our food the same, we're strictly food snobs when we are watching Top Chef.

If you're not aware of this show, Top Chef brings together 15 talented chefs and they have to go through different challenges and the best dishes (and chef) make it through to the next round. An episode always includes a 'Quickfire' round, which is something that usually has to be conceptualized and executed quickly, and there's always some sort of theme. Like once they could only use the ingredients out of two vending machines (both candy and sandwich variety), one time they only had 15 minutes to create something with the ingredient of 'chocolate' and once they had to create an original ice cream flavor and took it to the streets. The winner of the Quickfire challenges get immunity in the early season, and later on they get advantages over the other chefs.

Elimination challenges are more involved. They can be individual or they can be team efforts (though usually everyone contributes a dish). Elimination challenges have been things such as, using certain ingredients, sometimes very exotic. One time when there were seven contestants left, they created a meal each person making a dish that represented one of the sins. Often they work as teams to cater events and there is always restaurant wars, which is where they're divided up into teams and given an empty space. They have to design a menu, decorate etc. One of my favorite challenges was when they had to create a main dish, side dish and dessert, but had to keep it under 500 calories.

There are four judges for every episode. There are always Padma, who is the host as well, and Tom, who is the head judge. And then either Gail Simmons from Food and Wine magazine or Ted Allen from Queer Eye alternate as the third judge:


The fourth judge is always a celebrity judge. My favorite that they have is Anthony Bourdain:


Now you've got an update on what Top Chef is, I'll explain how Matt and I have become arm chair food snobs. See as we watch each season, we scoff from our comfortable couch at the chefs on the show. For example, the season we just finished watching, the first challenge was to create an amuse bouche with just the ingredients from the table in the room (they'd been at a meet and greet party and had a table full of party like items). Oh you should have heard how we scoffed when one of the contestants didn't know what an amuse bouche was and hollowed out an apple and filled it with fruit and juice. A good idea, for a first course maybe. Sheesh! It's not surprising when he was the first one sent home.

And for the non couch food snobs, an amuse bouche is something that's meant to be eaten in one bite. It's usually light and should be an indication of the rest of the meal. Here's an example:

Presentation is very important in Top Chef. We can tell right away whether someone has good presentation or not. Here are some examples of good presentation:


Here are some examples of what not to do:

See, the key is, it's got to be eye catching, not too much food (generally the meals involve more than one course) and of course, it has to taste good. You want to avoid your plate being too crowded or not colorful enough.

A sauce line on the plate is always a nice touch. And you can do lots with those big spoons, like in the example with the amuse bouche.

Top Chef has also taught me so many other things. I now know what foie gras is (it's French and basically duck liver cooked in different ways) and gnocci dumplings, in a ball shape.

Here are some examples. Gnocci:


Foie Gras:


Our knowledge about food has also increased, now I know to describe food as 'clean' and that's a good thing, also you want to have lots of flavors that blend well together, you don't want to have too many ingredients, or one flavor overpowering another.

When the chefs are issued their challenges, Matt and I always discuss what we would do or what we'd make. And the irony is not lost on me that I wouldn't eat most of those items that are served, so my contributions are mostly 'I'd make a hamburger, except I'd use ranch!' or I'd make chicken, but my secret ingredient would be ranch!' Needless to say, I think I'd rock at Top Chef. Of course though, it's not all completely a loss. I wouldn't serve my lovely presented burger alone, nope I would definitely have pomme frittes:

Random Thoughts...

So I know it's another update from me, Kate. This blog was conceptualized as a joint one by both me and Matt so that no matter who visits out of our friends and family, they'll know one of us. The problem is, Matt works a lot harder than I do, but more importantly the problem is Matt doesn't like writing unless he has an excellent topic. I, on the other hand, will write pointless drivel whether its a good topic or not.

So unfortunately you're stuck with me and my thoughts again. And this will probably be just like the title says, random thoughts.

Yesterday was our 4 month anniversary. Yes, as newlyweds we still celebrate each month that we've been married. And we try to do something a little extra special on that day. Nothing huge, because that would get expensive to do every month, but something out of our normal routine. On Monday, which I know was actually the 25th, there was no work, it was a bank holiday so we took advantage of it. We slept in (Matt hasn't slept in, in weeks because of the Olympics, they started so early here), and had lunch at Nando's, my favorite place to eat (and it's a lot of food for not a lot of money, which we love) and then saw a matinée of Get Smart. Which we loved.

Of course we couldn't go all the way to the O2 center without grocery shopping, so we did that as well. Though it wasn't quite our usual trip, because we tried online shopping over the weekend and loved it. You order the food online and they deliver it. It's great for dry products etc. But we still like to choose our own meat and veg, so we still went to Sainsburys (we ordered online from Tescos, can we say the best of both worlds?).

I'm sad the Olympics are over. I love them, especially the summer Olympics. Several times we had two computers watching stuff online and the TV going. As I've been writing my dissertation, I've had it in the background and really enjoyed it. Except Badminton and Equestrian. Yuck.

I haven't updated many people on our celebrity sightings. Over the last few months, here's who we've seen.

At a production on the West End we sat two rows up from:


That's Brian May from Queen, if you don't recognize him. And while walking home from Tesco Express right in our neighborhood I walked right by:


He was looking confused, like he was trying to find an address. And he's shorter in real life. And when we saw Dark Knight, we were actually in the same theater as this guy:

Stephen Merchant is soooo tall in real life. It's hard to miss him in a crowd.

So there's the scoop of what's happening in our life. It's going well. My dissertation has been sent off to my sister to look it over and it gets handed in next week. Then I have to stop being slothful and go get a real job.

Oh yeah, and we got some Ben and Jerry's on sale. So dessert time is party time in our house.

Happy Birthday Mak!

28 years ago today, my 2nd little sister and the fifth girl (in a row) in our family was born. And even though our parents said we could name her, part of me is still a little resentful that they vetoed my favorite name.

So I'm taking it back.

Happy Birthday, Kitchen!

Public Service Announcement.

I don't think Badminton is a very sexy sport. If you're a guy and you play badminton professionally, I don't think you should lead off with that as your opening line to the ladies. In fact, I would try to avoid it for as long as possible. I know it's tempting to bring it up, but here's what could potentially happen:

Badminton Guy (spots a girl he wants to pick up, saunters over to her stretching): Boy am I tired.

Hot Girl (sensing this is a line, but still intrigued): Why is that?

BG (casually): I just got back from Beijing, and I'm still not over the jet lag.

HG (interested): Beijing? Why?

BG (nonchalantly): I was there for the Olympics.

HG (very interested at this point): Really? Are you an athlete?

BG (tries to look modest): Yeah, I am.

HG (salivating): Really? What sport?

BG (smugly): Badminton.

HG (suddenly distant): Hmmm...that's really...well...I didn't realize it was an...hmmm...that's really...I have to go.

And of course she hurries off. See, what Badminton guy should've done is been a little more vague, try to make a game of it and get her to guess or maybe just casually mention it's the game with a net. That could be tennis, volleyball, soccer or basketball. Plenty of sexy sports to not drive away the Hot Girl.

So there you go badminton players everywhere. You can't help that you play a lame sport that most people forget even exists. You can't help that your skills have placed you in that situation. Good for you for making the most of it! But just some friendly advice, don't count on it to impress too many people.

Good luck tiger! Or should I say birdie?

If This is Sick, Then I Don't Want to Be Well...

There's a fever going on here at the Ngai household. A very serious fever. A fever that is recurring, but only every couple of years. What's it called you ask? I'll tell you: Olympic Fever. We love the Olympics. And pretty much everything that has to do with the Olympics. Unfortunately, since we live here in the UK, we don't get as much coverage on our respective countries we would like, but we have been pretty impressed with how well the BBC has covered the events, both online and on the telly. Of course, lots of time is devoted to the sports that Brits tend to succeed in, such as horse riding and badminton. But, even then, the Fever has hit us so hard, we'll even watch that, well at least badminton anyway. In fact, at one point this weekend we had both our laptops up, each with it's own event on the screen as well as the BBC broadcast. And last night, we had the US v China game on live on the computer, and we were watching badminton on the tv. Yeah, the fever has us hard.

While both Matt and I are affected by it, I have to admit that my case isn't quite as serious as Matt's. In fact, despite the fact that he's Australian through and through, lately he's been claiming China quite a bit. Forget the fact that Hong Kong has it's own team, and that's where his family is from. It would be the same as me claiming victory every time team GB did well, because of all my British ancestors. So I don't think it's fair that he can disregard China for four years and then all the sudden 'feel his Chinese blood stirring' when they do well at the Olympics.

But that might just be me.

This is the first time I've ever watched the Olympics outside of the US, and I miss all the national pride and bragging that comes with the sport. I didn't appreciate how nice it was to be in smug agreement with the TV about how great my country is, I mean, if you can't be extra patriotic in during the Olympics then when can you? During the 4th of July? Hah, I don't think so!

But all this exposure to the Brits take on the Olympics has made me consider something. As mentioned above, I'm being exposed to events that don't get as heavily featured in the states, maybe because the US doesn't do as well in those events, or maybe because they aren't as sexy as the other events or maybe because they shouldn't actually be in the Olympics. In this case, the answer is all three. Yes, you read correctly. I'd like to put forth that there is an Olympic sport that shouldn't actually be in the Olympics.

I haven't discussed my theory with anyone yet and I may get blasted. I may be sleeping on the couch tonight for saying something against the sacred Olympics, but I feel very strongly about this and think it needs to be said. So here it is:

I don't think equestrian should be an Olympic event. I base this reasoning on purely the reason because the horse is the one that does all the work. I'm not say equestrians shouldn't compete at all, but it shouldn't be in the Olympics. Now, I've been watching a few events and because of that, I've declared myself an expert.

In every other Olympic event, the competitor actually has to do something. In hurdles they have to jump, in running, they have to run. In equestrian, they what? Sit on top of the horse. Personally, I don't think it's fair that the rider gets the medal. It should be the horse. The horse is the one doing all the running and jumping, not the rider. Basically the rider dresses up in fine clothes and sits on top of the horse. Afterwards they get off and collect their medals and the horse gets what? Extra oats with its dinner? Is that fair? I'd like to put forward that it is not. Of course the horse would have to be born and bred in the actual country it was competing for, or at least have proof of citizenship if otherwise. Now don't give me those arguments that riding a horse and steering it are hard, they're not. Not like doing it yourself, for example. I'm just saying...

















But regardless about my feelings about equestrian, I continue to revel in the Olympicness of it all. I was dazzled and wowed by the Opening Ceremonies, which was only dampened slightly when I heard that the footstep fireworks across Bejing were actually CGI'd, and I'm looking more forward than ever about being in London during the 2012 Olympics.

Well, except for the equestrian of course...

It's All Oz To Me!

As the five of you who read this blog know, I'm married to one of those durn foreigners. However, since neither of us is actually from the country we're currently living in, you'd think I'd be better and not call Matt a durn foreigner. But I'm not a good person, and I am an American, so I was raised to believe that anyone who isn't American is...you guessed it...a durn foreigner!

Anyway, on to the reason for my post. Occasionally Matt and I have some issues with miscommunication. I know that's not uncommon for married couples, or any couples in general, but our problems with communicating are a little different from the norm, we sometimes have a language barrier.

"But he's from Australia and you're from America!" you cry out in protest "You both speak English!"

I know that. Except for the fact that I speak what I like to call 'normal English' and he speaks what I call 'crazy English'. I'll give you an example.

Before Matt and I got married, we were discussing his suit and what kind he'd wear, shoes etc. And we were discussing whether or not he'd need a new belt or if he wouldn't have one etc. Matt then looks at me and says:

"Well, I could wear a jock strap."

Now I don't know about you, but I'm a good little girl, not experienced as some in the ways of men. And I couldn't for the life of me figure out the point of wearing a jock strap on your wedding day. Would he need that much support? Did it have something to do with the oh so anticipated wedding night? What kind of weirdo was I marrying? For one of the few times in my life, I was speechless. But I managed to croak out one word "Why?"

He looked back at me curiously, wondering about my strange reaction (and probably wondering why he was able to get a word in edgewise) "To hold up my pants, of course."

Well, now you can imagine the things that were racing through my brain. But luckily, I remembered that Matt doesn't speak 'normal English'. "What do you think a jock strap is?" I asked. "You know, those things that go over your shoulder and hold up your pants."

He was talking about suspenders. Now I knew the Brits called them braces, but I had no idea the Aussies called them 'jock straps'. Once I explained what my definition of a jock strap, he understood my shock. And we laughed. Lots. In fact we're still laughing.

So things like that come up, usually it's no big deal. I do like to tease Matt every now and then about some of the crazy words that Aussies use for normal things. He never fails to roll his eyes and tell me I'm crazy and that Aussies don't use any crazy words for anything (is it just me or is the word of this post 'crazy'?).

Now, loyal reader. I bring this debate to you. Please, send your friends around and have them contribute their opinions as well. Just make sure they're not Australians, I do want to win this, after all.

Everyone is familiar with some Aussie slang, and not a summer goes by without someone somewhere joking about throwing shrimp on the barbie. That's not so crazy. Aussies are notorious for shortening words, mosquitoes become 'mozzies', and breakfast turns into 'brekkie'. That's not too hard to figure out, nor is it that unusual.

But it does get worse. As an example, I'm going to post the first verse and chorus of a very famous and well loved Aussie folk song called "Waltzing Matilda". Matt sang it for me once, and if you're like me, you won't have a blooming clue what it's about: Here, I even found a video on YouTube of the song, which I think is a great version, and it gives you an idea of what it sounds like.



Once a jolly swagman camped by a billabong,
Under the shade of a Coolibah tree,
And he sang as he watched and waited till his billy boil,
You'll come a Waltzing Matilda with me.

Waltzing Matilda, Waltzing Matilda, You'll come a Waltzing Matilda with me,
And he sang as he watched and waited till his billy boil
You'll come a Waltzing Matilda with me.

Down came a jumbuck to drink at that billabong
Up jumped the swagman and grabbed him with glee,
And he sang as he shoved that jumbuck in his tucker bag
You'll come a Waltzing Matilda with me.

Chorus

Up rode the squatter mounted on his thorough-bred
Down came the troopers One Two Three
Whose that jolly jumbuck you've got in your tucker bag
You'll come a Waltzing Matilda with me.

Chorus

Up jumped the swagman sprang in to the billabong
You'll never catch me alive said he,
And his ghost may be heard as you pass by that billabong
You'll come a Waltzing Matilda with me.

Now, obviously you're able to discern some of what the words mean, but if you say it out loud to yourself, you'll feel exactly what it's like to speak in 'crazy English'. Don't get me wrong, I really like the song, who wouldn't want to say such fun words as 'billabong' and 'coolibah' and 'jolly jumpbuck', it's like a fairy language!So I ask you, is this normal? Can you honestly understand most of what you're reading/saying? Am I wrong here? Who's with me? Unfortunately for me, as well as all who know him, my husband is an extremely stubborn man. No matter what I say, he's convinced his English is just fine. In fact, he tried to turn it back on me and say that we 'mericans have slang that he doesn't understand.

Guess what? It's just not true, I sang for him our best known and loved folk song, Yankee Doodle Dandy. The only word he could jump on when hearing that song is the word 'Dandy'. I challenged him that more people would know what a 'dandy' was than a 'billybong' or a 'jumpbuck' or a 'swagman'. So tell me, am I right? What do you think? Am I crazy? Or is it him? Remember, no other Aussies are allowed to post...you know, because of the durn foreigner thing.

Invaded!!

So I have a problem. Actually we have a problem. Matt and myself. I will speak for both of us from here on. I know, it's crazy, but I feel confident in doing so, because Matt and I have spoken about this subject several times and we're completely in agreement about it. Our problem is unfortunately a problem with infestation. And we're not the only ones in our building suffering from it. Nope, this infestation problem affects anyone who lives in our building or works in the business next door. It can also affect anyone who comes to visit us or anyone in our building. Regrettably, this infestation can't be cured by spraying pesticides or setting out traps, though the thought has crossed everyone's mind in my building to give it a try. Nope, this particular breed of pests just has to be tolerated. Though the infestation does settle down marginally once the summer ends.

I know, as you're reading this, you're probably worried that you might have a similar infestation. Or perhaps there's a chance you could be invaded with hoards of these pests. I have to say, it's possible, but not probable. This particular breed of pest comes depending on where you live, rather than the type of place you live in.

Are you ready for the name of this horrible, annoying soul suckers? Okay, here it is:

tourists

Yes, the breed I'm speaking about are tourists. We happen to live literally right next door to a very hot tourist spot. We get tourist groups congregating right outside our building, people graffiti-ing on the front walls of the business next door (and unbeknownst to them, the 'art' and 'words' get painted over every two months, so their loving tribute isn't actually there for ever and always, I'm sorry to be the one to break the news) and the worst part, stopping traffic. Unfortunately this 'hot spot' aka breeding ground for tourists is right in the middle of a road. And not just any road. A very busy road. A road with lots of traffic. Traffic that likes to honk because people are standing in the middle of the road, trying to recreate that very famous picture that took place in that spot many, many years ago.

Honestly, the tourists didn't bother me so much. I mean, I myself have been a tourist several times and have probably acted inappropriately once or twice. And granted, when we moved here, it was in the off season and there weren't nearly as many, but we thought they were kind of cute. We laughed to each other fairly smugly that we didn't have to pose for pictures, that we crossed that very street everyday, at least twice. We laughed at the earnest tourists and their attempts to cross the busy street. They were like little children, who don't realize how the world works yet. They were cute, and they were endearing, and yeah, we felt like big shots.

However, the summer started and our few tourists grew to several tourists (and when I say several, I don't think it's an exaggeration to say there are at least over a hundred a day). Every day. All day. And the honking of the traffic increased. And the annoyance of the tourists increased. And yeah, in order to maintain our sanity, we don't politely wait for them to finish taking their picture before we cross. No, now we just cross whether they're done or not. We don't want to be rude, it's just that if we stand there, we run the risk of a) being thought of as one of the Invading Ones and b) waiting there all day. That's not an exaggeration, seriously there are that many tourists.

The main problem with the pests isn't that they want to recreate a great picture, heck I'm a fan of the picture and want to recreate it myself someday. But there's a time and place. First of all, since this isn't an actual 'designated tourist' site, there's no type of regulation or instructions. People don't realize when they're at what's called a 'zebra crossing', cars have to stop to let you pass. When there's no light, like in this situation, the pedestrian always, always has the right of way. Well, a good recreation of The Picture doesn't have cars in it. So you get tourists standing there, as if they're waiting to cross, the cars stop, just like they're supposed to, and the tourists just wave their hands trying to encourage the cars to continue driving. That's illegal for the cars to do. And it causes the cars to pile up, honk their horns and all sorts of confusion runs riot.

Sometimes you get people who aren't such purists about whether there are cars in their picture or not and so they'll cross. The problem then is, that they stop in the middle of the road while, trying to get in the 'pose' while they get their picture taken. We seriously saw this happen the other day and there were a good six cars on either side waiting and honking. And the people were just standing there, posed. It was a very ridiculous situation and we didn't blame the cars honking one bit.

So if you're so inclined to become one of these mighty invaders and you know (or figured out from my not so cryptic descriptions) where I'm talking about. Let me give you a few helpful hints. We've already covered that cars have to stop, it's the law. Well, if you're going to take the picture, have your photographer in position and when you're ready, stand next to the road. When the cars stop cross just like you would. It's even okay to take a slightly (note the key word is slightly) slower pace, but always keep moving. If you don't want cars in your picture, either wait it out and cross when there is a slow down in traffic (rare, it's a busy road) or come at a time when there's not much traffic. One time we've found that is really good is Sunday morning. Every morning when we go to church, we leave around 8am, and the road is absolutely empty. Of both cars and tourists. It's the perfect chance to get that 'perfect' picture.

Oh and if you happen to come at the same time as everyone else and you're holding up traffic and your picture gets ruined by someone who crossed while you did carrying toilet paper. Yeah, that's probably me. Or Matt. And you know what? We're not sorry.

Tube Awakening...

Written by Matt:

The famous London underground is symbolic of the city it connects, transporting the millions of inhabitants each day to their various destination points; anywhere from historical sites to sophisticated new age city dwellings and places. For this well travelled tube commuter, here are a few thoughts of life on the tube.

I must admit when I first rode the tube, I was readily impressed with the sublime efficiency on show. Coming from a bedridden public transportation system in Sydney, where late running trains were the standard fare, I found it a novelty that a train came every few minutes. I couldn’t comprehend all the pre travel warnings I had received about the ‘crummy’ tube network. To me, this was public transport manifested in all its glory…one year later…

First thing to change: rushing around. I swear this city makes you walk faster than you’ve ever walked before. None more evident than running for the tube, up and down escalators, through tight squeezes dodging human traffic left, right and centre in an attempt to board a train. Despite knowing full well that there’s another train approaching a few minutes behind (beware those dreaded delays), there’s something highly competitive in the London psyche, that makes you run, grab, hustle and bustle your way on board.

As you step into the tube, newspapers dominate your view. Not one smile to be seen from the heads burrowed within the newspapers, no eye contact, no noticeable human contact despite the tight squeeze you walk/run/waltz/shimmy/squeeze (apply correct scenario) into upon entrance. Everybody seems to be off in their little world absorbing the latest headlines, whilst others are in a zombielike trance listening to their ipods. The balance of serenity is broken as a group of tourists clamber onto the tube bringing with them the enthusiastic loudness one associates with being in a new town. The Londoners casually glance up to see what has interrupted this serene balance and after giving some withering looks, withdraw the collective furrowed brows back into the gossip pages of the London papers. The ipod zombies hardly shift for the enthusiastic group of tourists.

Nothing highlights my tube amusement better than what I term the ‘Imperial march’. This is highly evident on probably one of the most disliked stretches of ‘in between’ station walking paths. I like to call it the ‘Green Park Mile’. You get all types of people here along this stretch. The robotic that go with the flow, where one misstep can cause severe consequences like stepping on someone else’s shoe upsetting the rhythmic synchronisation. I admit to marching with the flow to the music of the Empire’s Imperial March sounding in my head (for those familiar with Star Wars). Somehow it seems to depict the moment very well. You also encounter the ‘eager beavers’ who go against the stream to try and beat the crowds as they duck and weave whilst crossing over to the incoming wave of human traffic. Then you have the slow lane, these are Londoners who know on which side to walk on. And then you have the tourists, who don’t know the right side to walk on and are a constant nuisance to the London locals. Their leisurely pace equates to an increase in ‘eager beavers’.

Next up: personal space, this is where the phrase ‘mind the gap’ truly comes into play. An unwritten rule of tube riding, do not sit next to someone if there are other seats available. Why is this so, I haven’t a clue but on more than one occasion have I witnessed very such people who have moved when one has sat too close to them. Maybe I am not fully converted to the London psyche yet or maybe I just smell bad.

In true Londoner style, after a year of consistent hopping on and off the tube system, I must admit some of my original views have tarnished at a rapid rate. In between the fun and games mentioned above, has been non stop track work, service suspensions and delays stretching for what seems like an eternity (especially in those hot underground passages –where BO is at it’s full brilliance). It’s surprising how ‘Londoner’ one can become in this crazy city! But the glory days still has its moments for the tourist lurking in me, after all, what else can bring a smile and sense of shared amusement to you and your fellow commuters as you board the tube on your journey…..”Welcome to the Piccadilly line, this train goes to Cockfosters…”

Safe travels and see you somewhere on the underground….well not really, what was that newspaper headline?

Grocery Shopping = Giant Expedition

So many people ask about our lives in London. I've heard that things that seem so commonplace to us, are really interesting to those not living here. So fine, I'll give you the most commonplace thing that a person can do, and that's grocery shopping.

See in the states, you can get away with going to the store and doing some major shopping only twice a month, or once a month if you happen to have a big enough car or Costco card. In the UK, things are a wee bit different. First of all, there usually isn't the space to hold a month's worth of food. Especially if you live somewhere like London, where space is a luxury. Our kitchen for example, is literally the size of a phone booth. It's so small that we have to put our toaster on top of the microwave, because there isn't enough counter space. It's so small that our refrigerator is in our living room. Oh yeah. You didn't know it was possible to be white trash and live in the west end of London eh? Well, you can. Although, as Matt points out, he can't be white trash, because he isn't white. I told him that one of the unfortunate things about marrying a white girl from Utah is the fact that he can indeed become white trash by marriage.

Now when I say refrigerator, you're probably thinking of one of those nice big ones that are taller than you are, with huge freezer space and lots of lots of fridge space. Ours isn't quite like that. It's considered full size, for the UK and one of the things we had to negotiate when signing on for this flat. It originally came with what we in the US would refer to as a 'mini-fridge'.

Believe it or not, this tangent brings me back to my original point. Grocery shopping in London. See? You thought I was just rambling, you didn't realize that I could weave the written word so skillfully, shame on you. I keep trying to tell you, you're dealing with a master.

We're lucky in the fact that we actually have a big Sainsbury's fairly close by. It's only about a 1/2 hour walk (which we do on occasion when it's nice out) or a short bus ride. Since we don't have a car, these are basically our only options. And since we don't have a car, we can't load it up with groceries, so we have to carry everything we buy. Getting ready to go shopping requires great preparation on our part. And like getting ready to scale Everest, we have to go through a very detailed check list.

Backpack (one each)? Check.

Eco-friendly Sainsburys bags (three total)? Check

Good walking shoes? Check

Oyster card (for the bus)? Uh...hang on I have to run back to the flat (Matt actually has said this twice), but usually it's: Check.

Comfortable shopping clothes? Check

Flat keys? Check

Wallet? Check

Pound coin? Check

Take no prisoners attitude? Check

Finally we get to the store. Now usually the only day we can do our major shopping on, is Saturday. And shopping at Sainsburys on Saturday is akin to going to Disneyland on 'everyone gets in for free day' it is a zoo. And there isn't much rhyme or reason on how people walk. There's no sticking to a certain side. There's no checking around the corner before you come zooming out. Nope, it's every shopper for themselves. And if you get there too late in the day (or even do it at night, like we did last Saturday), you will find that all the good stuff has been picked over.

Now Matt and I tend to purchase the same kinds of things. We're always on the lookout for the 'buy one get one free' stuff. In fact, if you ever want Matt to buy anything, just make it a 'buy one get one free' and he'll buy it. There are a few times when I've had to convince him that we don't need diapers or wine (okay to be fair, I am exaggerating slightly, but he sure does love a good bargain). Anyway, we have a few set things that we always have on our menu. Like this ravioli type pasta that we always keep on hand for quicker, lighter dinners. Usually we have some chicken, both boneless/skinless and boneful/skinful. Lately, we've been experimenting with our new (to us) slow cooker, so we've been buying some roasts for Sunday dinner. The thing to keep in mind when you're shopping with no car, is how much you can carry. We've been pretty good about keeping an eye on the amount in our cart and make sure we only add the things we definitely need.

Once we've waited in the long queue and finally reach checkout, it's very important on how the items are loaded into the bags and backpack. See, in the UK, you bag your own groceries, which is good, because you really need a system. Usually by the time we actually reach the cashier, the food has already been laid out on the conveyor belt, Matt has a very systematic way as to how each item gets placed on the belt. Cold things with cold things, fragile things away from heavy things etc. That way, when you're bagging, it's already semi-sorted. So out comes the eco-friendly Sainsburys bags and off come the backpacks. Heavier things go in the backpacks, such as potatoes or bags of frozen veg. Or, alternatively, the fragile things can go into the backpack, because it's a little more stable.

Once the bags are packed and properly arranged, its time to return the cart and get your pound coin back. Yup, you have to use a pound to get a cart, you get it back when you're done shopping. We even have a special designated pound that we use each time. Pretty clever, eh?

Anyway, after you're done shopping, it's time to head home. Since we have three eco-friendly Sainsburys bags, my extremely nice husband always takes two of them, while I only have to carry one. Depending on how much we bought, they can be nice and easy to carry, or really heavy.

Upon getting home, we quickly unpack all the items (especially the ice cream like items, due to the melty nature they have when being exposed to less than cold temperatures). Then we fold up our eco-friendly bags, place them in the back room and collapse onto the couch until we have to do it all over again the next week.

So there you have it. Something that is very mundane for us, but oh so exciting for you to read about. Aren't you glad you came to visit this blog today?

Of course you are!

LOTR: Review

Another wet London evening greeted us as Thao & I strode down Drury Lane towards Theatre Royal, a cosy little place off Covent Gardens. Heading up the stairs to our balcony seats, we took up our seats with a view and journeyed to the world of Middle Earth.

Being familiar with the story (through the book and movies) it was no wonder that the performance began right on the dot, taking in the scenic greenery of the Shire and introducing us to the main characters Frodo and his hobbit mates, Gandalf, Aragorn and the other much loved characters from Tolkien's Middle Earth. The stage settings and costuming were very impressive and brought Tolkien's imagination to life, from the warm and friendly shire lands across to the mysteriousy enchanting lands of the elves, the oppressive mines of Moria, the tall forests of the Ents to the darkness and red fire of Mordor. The story moved at a fairly decent pace (quite splendidly done with the ever moving and changing stage floor), with the music and songs blending in nicely, however the complex plotlines left the dialogue a little long winded at times and provided a few flat moments along the way.

The actors delivered a well rounded performance, with Gandalf particularly commanding, and the hobbits displaying enough comic relief to highlight their laidback nature to offset the stoic energy brought by Frodo and Samwise. The dramatic dark forces of Sauron were brought to life, with the dark horseriders particularly impressive, casting shadows of dark menace over the fellowship's journey. The elven costuming was also particularly impressive, from the mysterious and beautiful Galadriel to the elegant Arwen, and filled the stage with wonder as dancers moved across the skyline floating above the stage area performing artistic gymnasts moves to the enchanting elven melodies. A dash of romance was also musically provided via the love shared by Arwen & Aragorn. The introduction of Gollum added a sinister, pyschological edge to the production and the appearance of Shelob added terror to the night. Sadly the lands of men weren't as well represented with the constant dialogue, whilst moving the story along, left the stage devoid of atmosphere until the appearance of orcs quickened the pace again.

Overall, despite the length (at 3 1/4 hours) and noticeable lack of air conditioning, it was an enjoyable performance with wonderful costuming and staging which swept us away to Middle Earth on our journey there and back again!

3/5 *

Life In London...

Frequently Matt and I get oohs and aahs from our friends and (sometime) family members back home about how great it is that we live in London. It became very evident when we were in Utah before we got married. Several times people have commented on how lucky we are to be living in London. And I admit, when an old friend contacts me on Facebook, and we go through the process of updating each other on the happenings in our lives, I do get a little bit of satisfaction when I say I live in London. Because, it does sound pretty exotic and exciting. And to be honest, I was the exact same way, not too many years ago. Maybe it's the 'grass is greener syndrome' but I longed for something different than where I was. Not saying that everyone who comments about how cool it is to live here feels that way, that's just where I was. Also add to that the fact that I'm married to an Aussie, who happens to also be Asian (we call him Austraisan), the comments increase to how fun it is to hear that great accent every day to how cute our mixed race kids are going to be. All things I completely agree with, by the way. Unfortunately, he doesn't get the same reaction to our friends about my accent...American accents just aren't coveted! Ah well, we all have our trials and tribulations.

I guess what I'm trying to say, is on paper, our life does sound pretty exotic and exciting. London is the hub of Europe. It is close to fly to so many neat places. And you can't beat the history of this city. But quite often, the reality is that it's not really that different from where you live. I know what you're thinking now, "Wow, Kate has written this post directly for me, how did she know I'd be reading it? Is she psychic or just a darn good writer?" Well my friend, it's a little bit of both.

Anyway...back to the subject at hand...life in London certainly has it's perks. But it's also got its drawbacks. Like the weather. It rains here. A lot. In fact, it's raining right now as I'm typing this. It's summer, yet I still feel the need to leave the house with a light jacket in tow. The rent we pay for our two tiny two bedroom flat would get us a really nice place in the states. A place where such luxuries aren't just dreams. Luxuries like having a washer that doesn't take an hour (on quickwash) and holds more than five items of clothing. Luxuries like having a dryer. No more hanging clothes on the wire hanger thingy in our spare room. And it would be really, really nice to be able to have our refrigerator actually in the kitchen. No more sticking it in the corner of the living room. And someday it would be nice to have a bathtub again. Or a shower that is big enough to turn around completely in. And don't get me started about the water pressure!

People also mention how great it is that we don't have to worry about a car. Which, I admit, is a nice thing to not have to worry about, especially with gas prices being what they are. But what people forget is that we have to deal with public transport. Which, to be honest, is really good in London. But it does have his drawbacks. Sometimes it's really smelly. And full. And you have to stand in unbearable heat (because of course you have your layers on, because it's so cold outside). And if you happen to be on the tube, it can stop without any reason or warning. Sometimes for a long amount of time. And if you're one of the unlucky ones without a book or a paper or an iPod on you, it can be torture. And there's nothing you can do about it. Especially if you have to pee. Plus, going grocery shopping without a car is not fun, especially if you have a large load. In fact, I think our method of going grocery shopping (not unlike preparing to scale Mt. Everest) is worthy of a blog post all on its own.

My point of this post isn't to complain about what a tough life I have. I realize I don't. The intent isn't to downplay life in London. It's really a great place to live. It's got museums, theaters, and pretty much anything you want, culturally speaking. In fact, Matt and I have realized that we don't take as much advantage of what London has to offer.

My point is, if you're going to envy us, don't do it because of where we live. Envy us because of our dashing, movie star good looks, or our incredible talents in all things related to sarcasm and wit. Or our abilities to find great deals from Sainsburys or Tesco. But unless you take all things into consideration, don't envy us just for living in London.

Our lives are pretty normal and mundane, we go to work, come home, watch TV and occasionally we go to a movie. See? Not too different than where you live.

"Again she's writing straight to me!" you think "I'm the luckiest person alive!"

Now you think, "how does she know exactly what I'm thinking?"

I just do.

I just do.