Breakfast at Hilary's

Part of my American fantasy has always been flipping pancakes out the pan for my guests. You know, just like on the sit coms. This morning my wish came true, but not quite as I had hoped....

"Hmm. They don't look like this when Martha makes them..."
"If at first you don't succeed...."

"...go to IHop."

"Mmmmm"

Earl Grey bravely poses for a photo before trying his breakfast.
"And I had to get out of bed for this? Not sure it's worth it," says Lord Lee.

Lee the Ripper

People certainly are friendly around here. The boys have just gone out for the evening with two girls from around the corner, who they met in a bar the other evening. Fashionable as ever, they spent at least 30 seconds sprucing themselves up before leaving the house.
"What's that you're wearing?" I asked Lord Lee.
"Ripped jeans," he said.
"I could sew them up if you like," I joked.
"My grandmother says that,"he said. "She asked me if I got them cheap because they are ripped, but I told her I actually paid more."
"Great," said Orphan No. 1 to me. "Now you sound like a 90-year-woman."
Nothing brings you down to earth like having your kids around. But something else was bothering me.
"What is it with those jeans?" I asked Lord Lee. "They look wrong."
"It so cold out, I've got my thermals on underneath," he confessed.
Let's hope he doesn't get stopped by the fashion police on his night out.

Springer Comes To Naperville

After going to see a recording of Jerry Springer earlier this week, I couldn't help but wonder what a Naperville version would be like....

Jerry: Hallo. Today we welcome Lucy to the show. Tell us your story, Lucy.

Lucy: Well Mr Springer. It’s like this. I’m not getting on very well with my mother at the moment.

Jerry, rubbing his hands together with glee: What’s the problem, Lucy?

Lucy: Yesterday she made me go to bed an hour early.

Jerry: So, let’s get this straight. She made you go to bed early? How did she do that? Did she whip you? Who did she make you go to bed with? Your uncle?

Lucy, blushing: Oh no, Mr Springer. (Beginning to cry). She said, she said.”You have a math test tomorrow so you’d better get plenty of sleep. Last time you only, sob, sob, got a B+. Remember how disappointed your teacher was?

Jerry: So then she hit you. Right?

Lucy: Oh no. She…. She…. turned off the TV (loud sobs)

Jerry, looking a little confused:
Ok, so let’s bring Mom in and see what she has to say. Here’s Mommy….

Mom: Enters stage left, lifts up her hand in a threatening manner, but only uses it to stroke Lucy’s hair.
Oh Lucy, do forgive me. I’m sorry I made you cry. Let’s go home and bake. I have a packet of instant mix that’s so convenient you just put the entire box in the oven and 10 minutes later it comes out like a tray of cookies.

Lucy, brightening:
Thanks mommy. I’m sorry if I disobeyed you. (They hug)

Jerry, looking disappointed:
Lucy, maybe you should stand up to your mother. After all, you are 21 and a student at North Central College.

Raging Bull(s)

The boys were really excited when they saw the deep fluffy snow I had arranged for them when they flew into town on Saturday. Unfortunately by yesterday it had melted and was unseasonably mild.
"I dunno, I bought all these clothes with and I don't even need them," grumbled Dumb Bell Door, from beneath his two undershirts, one thick shirt, two fleeces and a neckscarf, as he insists on calling it. (What's the alternative? A knee scarf?)
So last night when we dropped them off at the United Center to watch a Bulls game, they left most of their layers behind.
"It's a bit chilly," said Lee, Lord of the understatement as he climbed out of the car. (So useful, that minivan. Don't know why everyone laughed when Ross bought it).
In fact the temperature had dropped by about 40 degrees from earlier in the day.
By the time we collected them it was far colder with a blizzard raging. We couldn't park right outside the building, so the boys had to push their way against the wind to walk around the block.
"I've never known anything like this!" said Earl Grey. "I can't feel my ears."
Grumpy bravely drove us 30 miles back home, which fortunately only took about an hour. It was like driving through a snow globe. Every few minutes there was flash behind us.
"Now what," he moaned. "Is it a police car?"
"Sorry, no it's me," said Earl Grey. "I'm just taking photos of the temperature. It's -13F. Oh, no it's not. It's minus -14. Wow, I've never seen it so cold."
I received a voicemail message on the journey from my friend Venus, kindly asking if we needed to borrow fleeces. Fortunately the boys had brought everything they needed from England. It's just a pity they hadn't actually put them on!

Stand Up and Be Counted?

This morning I crept out early leaving the boys sleeping. Only in Naperville could they go to a movie, make new friends in a nearby restaurant and be out until 3.30 in the morning!
I couldn't wait for them, because I had errands to run. Not the usual stuff. I had to run around stores with posters for the musical, then interview the owner of the local comedy club for my new gig with Naperville magazine.
Most places were very gracious in accepting the posters. It was much easier than it would have been in England. (But then why would they want to advertise a Naperville show anyway?) My favourite was the YMCA, quite a coup, I thought, since the show is being performed at a local synagogue.
The interview went well. I used my latest gadget to help me, a tiny voice recorder. Dave joked it was like something out of Mission Impossible, which it was, since I had no idea how to use it.
We had a great chat, although as I left he felt he had to remind me that the feature should be about him, not me! Not something anyone would even have thought of saying the last time I interviewed anybody, a mere 25 years ago.
However, he did say if I ever wanted to do a one woman show from the Comedy Shrine, I could. Although he is a pretty good comedian, I know he wasn't joking.
"I know I do stupid things for my column, but this definitely will not be one of them," I said firmly, as I left.
Trouble is, I have a horrible feeling I might...

Jerry, Jerry!

I can't decide if I should be admonished by Super Nanny or be voted the coolest mum of the year!
After risking the lives of my son and his friend's on the slopes yesterday, today I took them to a recording of Jerry Springer in Chicago.
At first I thought it was going to be great. It's not easy to get in to see the iconic show, so I was thrilled when we stumbled across the line outside NBC by accident. We were told that even though we didn't have invitations, if we waited around they might be able to squeeze us in.
For a moment I thought it was a trick set up by Orphan No 1. Was this his chance to get his own back on his disfunctional family for abandoning him and moving to the other side of the world? Was it a co-incidence we were at the very back of the line? Any moment they could shove us through a side door and we would be on stage!
Fortunately, we were only audience members, if you can call it fortunate.
As we sat down we were shown clips of previous programmes. It had been some time since I had seen a show and I had forgotten quite what they were like. Trailer trash families swearing and fighting whilst throwing chairs across the stage. Ok on TV, I guess, but a bit different when it's all about to kick off feet away from you.
To be honest, the three scenarios we watched were pretty tame, and not entirely believable. There was the young black stripper who wanted to leave her boyfriend because he made her drink 2% milk and do 30 stomach crunches a day. The girl who tricked her boyfriend into leaving his previous girlfriend by lying that she was pregnant. You get the picture. To be honest the whole thing looked completely false and struggling from the effect of the writers' strike. However, Orphan No 1 and his friends really enjoyed the show, particularly when the stripper decided to show off her assets to the audience.
I sank into my seat. What was I thinking? I had brought my 20 something son and his friends to a strip show! It got worse. After an initial quick flash, she took off her top to demonstrate just how she did those stomach crunches.
Eventually the show crawled to an end. Jerry came out of it very well. He spent a lot of time chatting to the audience who genuinely seemed to love him. But just when I thought the worst was over, it got worse.
"For the last part, we're bringing everyone back on stage for you to question them," the audience was told. "If you ask a question and we don't like it, we might ask you to lift up your top." This was met by whoops of delight and screams of Jer-ree, Jer -ree, of course.
Who were this audience? They looked normal enough queueing outside. I can only assume they all parked their trailers around the corner.
I felt myself starting to shake when I realised the girl sitting next to Lord Lee of Edgware had her hand up to make a comment.
Fortunately I couldn't see what she was doing as the four of them turned heads right to make the most of her assets.
We always try to tailor make our guests visits to the U.S. But I think next time I'll stick to museums and art galleries when showing them Chicago!

Snow Go Area

Conditions were perfect this morning for a little cross country skiing at Arrowhead Golf Course.
We rushed the boys up there and had an exciting morning dashing across the snow. Actually, this isn't quite true. We all spent as much time under the snow as on it. I only did it for the sake of my column, because as with most things, I knew I wouldn't have a snowball's chance in hell of
succeeding and it would be very funny. My plan was to write about how wonderful the boys were and how terrible I was. Trouble is, I was so bad, they zoomed off and I never really saw what they were doing at all!

Here's proof the camera can lie. Me looking like I know what I'm doing (almost).
Who should we stumble across but Biff and Buffy! They make a great team. As Biff effortlessly flew down a slope, Buffy watching from the sidelines, promptly fell over! I thought it was so nice of her to take the fall!

From the left: Earl Grey, Lord Lee of Edgware and Orphan No.1

His lordship rushes to the club house at break neck (and nearly leg) speed.

"It's around here somewhere."

Orphan No 1 searches to find his sense of balance.

Mad Dogs and Englishmen Go Out in the Midnight Moon

All week I have been worrying about our latest British guests would cope with the cold. I needn't have. Yesterday afternoon we collected our son, the self-proclaimed Orphan No. 1 and his friends Dumb Bell Door, Earl Grey and Lord Lee of Edgware.
We started our evening out at Tessa's in downtown Naperville.
"I know we have to wrap up warm," said Dumble. (There's a boy who listens to his mother). "I've got plenty of layers."
Two undershirts, a thick shirt, a thin jacket, a fleece, a thick jacket, a woolly scarf, a warm hat and gloves later, he was ready.
We all piled off to the restaurant.
(For the record you don't have to be a soccer mom to drive a minivan. It's great for six adults and luggage too).
We hadn't even sat down before Dumb Bell Door started to melt.
He started pulling off his clothes quicker than a 52-year-old-woman in a disco.
"Thought you said it would be cold," he scolded me. (Never stop moaning, these Brits).
"Well you are inside," I pointed out. "The colder the outside temperature, the hotter they seem to make it inside."
He took off his gloves, warm hat, woolly scarf, thick jacket, fleece, thin jacket, thick shirt and one undershirt and sat down.
After dinner we moved on to the Comedy Shrine, a five minute walk across town through the snow.
This time Dumb Bell was fine, actually enjoying the cool air after the heat of the restaurant. He snuggled under the two undershirts, thick shirt, thin jacket, fleece, thick jacket, woolly scarf, warm hat and gloves.
The show started at 10 p.m. which was good. I thought everyone in Naperville was in bed by 9 p.m. Guess the rest of the audience had been bussed in from neighbouring towns.
Course the problem was the boys had just endured an eight and half hour flight from London. They were ticking towards the "up for 24 hours" mark.
Dumb Bell peeled off his gloves, warm scarf, woolly jacket, thick jacket, two undershirts and jeans. He kept his warm hat on "just in case".
We plied them all with Red Bull to stop them falling asleep, but luckily the show was funny enough to keep them awake.
By the time we got back to the house, they'd had so much Red Bull they couldn't fall asleep if they wanted to, so spent the rest of the night playing pool in the basement.

Blog On....

I've just done something I have never done before! I decided to take a look at who else is out there blogging on Blogger. And I have to report, they're an eclectic bunch. The most interesting ones appeared to be written in Spanish or Japanese. Of course they may not have been exciting at all, it's just that I couldn't read them.
Here's a brief selection of what I discovered:
1. Some poor woman who had started a blog of pictures of her newly deceased dog. Fortunately they showed the dog when she was alive. She was moved to pages and pages describing what her dog meant to her. Perhaps she is using the time she used to spend walking her,to write.
2. A Spanish site full of pictures of gay men, fortunately something that you don't have to be a gay man to enjoy!
3. One in which a woman apparently shows photos of every dish she had ever made. Not something I'll be copying soon, considering how most of my food comes out. Still, the cupcakes with Hershey's kisses on top looked sort of cute. Sort of.
4. Food is a very popular topic for bloggers. One lady from Kansas tell us in far too much detail, about how she makes the popular British dish of Shepherd's Pie.
5. I see quite a few teachers write blogs about their classes' activities. This is a wonderful idea, although I can only assume American teachers have far less work to do than their British counterparts if they have time for this.
6. Several blogs by people on holiday. I suppose if you've shown all your friends your photos before you return home, it saves boring them to tears when you do.

Cold Comfort

The temperature is currently -5F/-21C.
"What's that like?" asked Orphan No. 1 back in England when I told him.
It's like this. It's like your heavy English overcoat is as effective as a gossamer shawl. It's like you have to put on a thick anorak, thermal gloves and a hat just to retrieve the newspaper from the end of the drive. (Why they don't have letter boxes in the front door like other civilised countries, I don't know). It's like I can get through a night without having a hot flush, even with the heating on. (Well, very nearly). It's like there are icicles hanging off our new car, which typically has to be outside of the garage until the door is fixed.
Now before Americans, by which I mean our friend The Oracle, start commenting, I know this is Chicagoland in the winter. I know this is probably quite mild by your standards. But fortunately, I also know one other thing. The weather here is nothing if not changeable. So despite the cold I am cleaning off my patio furniture and ironing my shorts. Knowing the area as I have come to, I daresay we'll be complaining about the heat tomorrow.

Behind Closed Doors

The very first time Ross and I set foot in America was on our honeymoon, 27 years ago. We stayed with an old boyfriend of my mother's (don't ask) in Los Angeles. We had a wonderful time and of course, as on any honeymoon, Ross and I enjoyed finding out all about each other. Probably the most important thing we took back to England was that we both shared the same burning ambition. That one day we would own a remote controlled garage door!
We'd never seen such a thing in England at that time. You could press a gadget inside the car and garage doors would open automatically. Brilliant!
When we moved here, our ambition was finally achieved. It was great for two reasons. One, of course, was that we could open the doors electronically. Second, that the garage was always empty so we could actually fit the cars inside. In England our garage was so full of junk we were lucky if we open the doors manually, let alone park a car.
But our love affair with the system came to an abrupt end yesterday morning.
"I can't go to work today," Ross stomped back into the bedroom first thing."I can't get the car out of the garage."
"Er..has it broken down?" I said, half asleep. Since we've been the laughing stock of the town since buying it I was kind of hoping it would be an excuse to give it back and swap it for something cooler. I'd quite fancy a Porsche.
"No, the garage door won't open."
Clicking away with the remote did no good. The opener motor whirred around, but wouldn't budge the door.
Never one to miss an opportunity, I had the perfect solution.
"Ring Jett," I said, rushing to get dressed and made up in case he could come round straight away. "Maybe he can help."
Unfortunately Jett was unable to stop everything to run over, but he did recommend a specialist company who did.
Within 10 minutes the garage door was open. Unfortunately the company is returning on Monday to not only give us a new opener, but a new garage door as well.
"How long have you had this? Haven't seen one for years. Probably couldn't even get the parts. The door's warped.." You get the picture.
Always one to see the silver lining in any cloud, I realised this meant I could finally get the new garage door I had wanted.
Randy gave us a brochure to choose from.
"The price I gave you is for a door without any glass," he said, waving his hand over the pictures. "If you choose from this range, it will be a little more expensive; this range will be more."
We made our choice and told him what we wanted.
"Because it's my wife choosing, we have to have glass from this range," said Ross begrudgingly.
"And because he's my husband, we have to have it from the cheaper section," I growled.

Taxation Vexation

What's the hot topic in America at the moment? The election? Britney Spears' latest crisis? Well yes, to a point, but the head of the average American is filled with just one thing. Tax!
In the U.S. you have to file your tax return by April 15th. Heaven knows I don't understand how it works in England, so getting to grips with it here is certainly proving interesting.
Last night we decided to seek some expert clarification, so went along to a well known company of financial advisors to get some help.
We were greeted by a slight red-haired Russian man, who somewhat disconcertingly bore a striking resemblance to late night chat show host Conan O'Brien.
"I ken chelp you," he said, rummaging under the desk. "I ken yooz zees charts to chelp me."
By the time Ross had finished explaining we had spent three months of the last year in England and nine months here, he started to look a little confused. But he bravely continued explaining what we needed to find in order for him to continue.
"You vill need to fill out an I88, 36d and a WD40," he scribbled down for us on a scrap of pink paper.
(Obviously he didn't exactly say that, but it was definitely on pink paper. I have it as proof.)
He then rattled off a long complicated list of what we have to pay tax on (obviously everything) and what is tax deductible (the most precious words in the American vocabulary).
I thought we were getting to grips with it until Ross mentioned that I was working. (See, it is a job so stop nagging.)
Ivan looked even more perplexed. "Oh, zo you are vorking too. You vill need to clem as a self-employed pearson."
I laughed as I told him how little I earned. I think I saw a tear in Ross's eye. Not sure it was laughter.
"It eez qvite exceptable(sic) for self-employed pearsons to make a loss in zhere fearst year," he said sternly. "You ken clem expenses. Do you trevel for work? Make phone calls?"
"Well, I did go shopping in Chicago one day and then write about it for my column," I said.
Ivan looked less than impressed.
"It was the best thing I've ever written." I added lamely.
So now I have to be the more creative than I've ever been, working out how much I spent on what and when. If that wasn't enough, I have to find every receipt we've been given since last April and get it into some kind of order before our next meeting.
In England I kept everything carefully documented under a pile of junk in the garage, behind the washing machine, at the bottom of the cat litter tray and any other space I could find.
Since we don't have cats here, I have had to resort to buying a filing cabinet which should make the task a little easier. Hmm, wonder if that's tax deductible?

There's No Business Like Show Business

A few weeks ago I was at our regular Friday night synagogue service when the cantor asked me what I thought of the idea of a dinner dance fundraiser for the festival of Purim in March. She explained that usually they put on a play, but this year could find no director, so she was trying to think of an alternative.
"I could direct your show," I heard a disembodied voice behind me say. "I've experience and love drama."
Looking round I realised the enthusiastic person was me. So with nothing but a few very amateur productions under my belt, here I was, volunteering for something possibly way out of my league.
Wrapped up as usual in my own self importance, I stupidly thought the cantor somehow knew I had had experience in England and that I was a columnist for the local paper. I thought it was her crafty way of getting me to help.
Turns out she had no idea who I was, apart from the strange English woman who had joined the congregation back in March.
So now I'm in charge of a newly formed amateur dramatic group with eight weeks to put on a show at the synagogue.
The script and music have already been written by other members of the congregation, so it is up to me to organise rehearsals and make sure the acting is up to scratch.
All the time I would have spent jobsearching (!) is now devoted to adding to the script, organising everybody and running rehearsals. Naperville being what it is, we are now turning what in England would be a very minor little show into something of Broadway like proportions, not easy when your stage is the centre of a synagogue.

Nice Work If You Can Get It

Ok, I admit it. I need a job! After months of waiting to hear from publishers, producers and the like, I realise I need to be a bit more proactive. (Although of course if any are reading this, feel free to call).
Of course I don't need a real job. I don't want to be head of a corporation or a brain surgeon, although anything is possible if you want to volunteer. For now I need something part time to provide me with material for my real job as columnist to the Naperville Sun. (A job which is giving me some status in the community, but alas less income than girl scouts make selling cookies, and nowhere to go on a daily basis).
I began my search today by looking on the web under the usefully titled website Jobs in Naperville.
Hmm. Let me see. Part time. Ok, that's good. What have we got?
Oh this looks good. You need to be female. Ok so far. Wow. The pay is good. $18,000 +. That's not bad and apparently it's for only nine months work. Hang on. It's for surrogate mothers. Honestly. Hmm.. think the ship has sailed on that opportunity.
Van driver? Probably not for me, although I could provide my own van now Ross has bought the world's funniest car according to his colleagues. Of course if they only needed deliveries to downtown Naperville it might be ok. Maybe not.
Ah, now this is one Ross would support. Cocktail server at the Hollywood Casino! True, it needs one year cocktail experience, but it doesn't say you actually have had to have been making them. I've a lifetime's experience in drinking them. Of course I wouldn't want to drive all the way to Aurora, but I'm sure Ross wouldn't mind taking me. I daresay he could find something to amuse himself with while I was working. I make a note of that one.
What else? Now this is something I have plenty of experience in. Help is needed in helping passengers through the airport. They need part time bilingual help to support foreign speaking travellers negotiate ticketing, directions etc at O'Hare. Not surprised. I could do with help in that myself. Hey, I speak two languages. American and English. Wonder if that's good enough?
How about a sales rep for a lawn care company? It's called Weed Man. Do they sell the weeds they pull up then? Or maybe they mean another kind?
They need a security guard at the Water Tower in downtown Chicago I see. I could stand outside all day in a smart uniform. Oh no, it's right next to the Cheesecake Factory, far too much temptation, although I imagine I would be more successful in this job if I bulked up even more.
Oh, now this is exciting. They need a seasonal zoo keeper at Brookfield Zoo! I had three cats before I came to the U.S. I could embellish that a little at the interview. Hang on, thinking about that story about the escaping killer tiger at San Francisco Zoo, this could be a bit dangerous. Still, it would give me the chance to put lion tamer on my resume. That would be pretty cool. Maybe I'll forget the job and put it on anyway.
They need a lifeguard at a local swimming pool. Do you think it would be a problem that I can't swim? I've never seen one rescue anybody. I could just sit on one of those high chairs at the side of the pool. Not sure about the uniform though. Don't think it pays enough for me to parade myself in a swimsuit.
Ooh. Here's one. A bank needs someone to collect all the stuff people put in ATMs and put it on a database. Funny that. I always assumed there was a little woman sitting inside. How else would she be able to talk to you? Maybe that's what they mean. Actually I hate ATMs. Half the time they won't accept the card and the buttons never seem to be correctly lined up with the instructions.
On second thoughts, instead of looking for a job, I'll advertise myself. Let's see..how about middle-aged English woman seeks part time work. Can throw parties, drink cocktails, talk in a posh English accent. Can bake meat pies, but wouldn't make you eat them. Exuberant after and during dinner speaker (especially if wine supplied). Own car, but not willing to drive it. Computer literate (with lots of help from husband), and can play both parts of Heart and Soul on the piano, not necessarily at the same time. Gifted writer, pathological liar.

Car Fool

Following Ross's 'car'tastrophe, his colleague Spike took the time to come up with these photos...

This shows Ross with his old car back in England, when he could give James Bond a run for his money.

A few months in America and look what's happened to him!

Pie Eyed

When we went to see Sweeney Todd recently what surprised our American friends most was not that a mad barber would slit people's throats and cook them, but that in England there really are such a thing as meat pies.
Never one to miss a challenge, I heard myself saying: "Oh yes, tell you what, come for dinner and I'll make some."
You know when you say something and wish you hadn't? It got worse.
"I'll make a proper English meal. With real English dishes."
It's not that I can't cook, it's just some of my things turn out better than others. Pastry is not one of them.
In England I'm afraid I took to cheating. I'd nip out to Sainsbury's and buy frozen pastry. You can of course do that here in the country where convenience is everything, but since they don't go in for savoury pies so much, all the pastry tends to be sweet.
In the end there was nothing for it but to make my own.
Unlike some cooking, pastry making is an exact science. You have to carefully measure the right amounts of flour and fat and rub it in carefully. I did this easily enough, but the trouble is the water. Too much and you end up with Play Doh. Too little and you get breadcrumbs.
After two hours, I was ready to throw the whole lot out of the window and surprise my guests with a take out.
In the end I came up with the idea of using my hand mixer and more water, plus lots of swishing, stamping (both hands and feet) before battering it to death with a rolling pin.
They took twice as long as I thought in the oven, but eventually I had enough my small dinner party. (Actually I had enough for two large dinner parties. I never do things by halves).
The next problem was that I had cooked them all in individual foil cases and I couldn't get them out. I thought of serving them like that, saying that's how we eat them in England, but they wanted Sweeney Todd type pies, and they didn't use foil in Victorian England.
I ended up cutting them out with scissors, and thankfully they all came out intact. In fact by the time they hit the table, they looked just like the ones in the movie.
As for the filling, well that's a secret recipe. Let's just say nobody's seen our neighbours for a while....

Infiniti and Beyond...

You would think buying a new car would be a thing to celebrate. However, this week's little experience has left us a little down in the mouth. It's not that the car itself is a problem, it's lovely. It's just that in a town like Naperville image is everything, and Ross has gone from Mr Cool to Soccer Mom in one day.
Let me explain. At the end of the month our son, popularly known on the blog as Orphan No.1, is coming to visit with three friends. Although the Infiniti is nice enough, it only seats four comfortably and would leave absolutely no room for luggage.
I can hear what you're saying already. Why not rent one? Good idea. After all we did it before when Ross's brother and his family came to stay last summer. In fact we wouldn't have even needed to do that, because The Oracle kindly offered to lend his car for the airport pick up.
Despite all this, for some reason it made better sense to save the $100 in car rental to spend thousands on a new eight seater car.
"It will be useful," I reasoned. "I know we finally have all our furniture (we even transported a digital piano in my tiny Yaris) but it will be so much easier when we have guests. And I'm sure they'll be other bulky things we need to purchase at some stage."
We shipped very little when we moved from England, so have spent this last year buying everything new. It is fun, but let me assure you there is not so much a teaspoon in this house that we didn't spend months arguing over before buying.
So it may surprise you to learn that Ross exchanged his car in one evening. He went into the garage at 6 p.m. and drove the new one, a Toyota Sienna, out by 9 p.m.
We were very happy with it until we started getting comments from friends.
"Normally when you have a mid-life crisis you end up with a sports car."
"Oh that's a soccer mom's car."
"What was wrong with the other car? Didn't you like it?"
So we now have a five bedroomed house and an eight seater car for two people. If anyone needs a lift to the airport, let us know....

New Year's Revolution

Happy New Year!
Thought I'd share with you today's Naperville Sun article.

Happy 2007! I know it’s 2008, but 2007 is what I’ll be writing on my checks until May.
Every new year it’s the same. January 1st you make resolutions, and by January 18th you’ve broken them all. But this year I’ve found the answer! I’ve come up with a fail safe way to keep them all, and if any of them appeal to you, feel free to try some for yourself.
This year I’m going to gain weight. If your goals are going to work, you need to be specific, so how much? Ok. This year I’m going to gain 35lbs! I probably put on 10lbs around Christmas alone, so I’m off to a head start. Like much of the world’s population I usually try to lose weight, but end up putting even more on, so this should work well.
Of course you can’t gain weight without eating badly, so resolution number two is to eat more unhealthy food. Six donuts a day, plus three chocolate bars every evening should help. Apart from that, just eating out 14 times a week in any local restaurant and eating what you normally take home in a doggy bag should do the trick.
What else will help this effort? Oh yes, exercise! This year I resolve to do less exercise. Tricky one that, since I’ve hardly done any this year. Let’s see. I could hail a cab to get me from my house to my garage. Be pushed around Jewel in a shopping cart. Give up golf and just watch it on TV (while eating a sandwich and a large bag of chips). I could go to a yoga class and just lie on the floor. Dance while sitting down. Sit on a treadmill. Lots of possibilities here.
This year I resolve to watch more TV. I’m going to start watching soap operas, and seven hour marathons of Everybody Loves Raymond a day. Come to think of it, that would help my weight gain promise, if I eat popcorn and drink non diet Coke while I watch!
This year I’m going to read less worthy literature. I’m going to start with Victoria Beckham’s That Extra Half An Inch: Hair, Heels and Everything in Between. Then Paris Hilton’s Life on the Edge. I’m saving the best til last, however. You Can Run But You Can’t Hide by Dog the Bounty Hunter. Perhaps I’ll even suggest that one to my book group, which naturally I’m going to try to attend less often next year.
This year I’m going to drink more alcohol! I’m going to down at least a bottle of wine a day. Technically I’m only a social drinker, so I’ll have to throw more parties and go to more bars to make this work. Even if I fail at this one, I should have plenty of fun trying, and make many new friends. They’ll be difficult to stay in touch with, however, due to my next resolution.
In 2008 I’m going to try to keep in touch with my friends and family less. I’m not going to write their birthdays, anniversaries etc on my calendar and I’m never going to e mail them. I resolve to not even feel guilty about not ringing my mother back in England until August.
This year I’m going to volunteer less. If I find this difficult to keep, I’ll try to find just one really unworthy cause to support, like Feed the Obese or the Underprivileged of White Eagle. I might even start a fund to provide a bankrupt businessman with membership of a local country club.
In 2008 I’m not going to try anything new. I’m not going to join an art class, even though the life drawing class at the Naperville Cultural Centre sounds very tempting if a little chilly for the model at this time of year. I’m not going to jump out of a plane (unless it’s on fire), or learn to speak a new language. In fact I’m actively going to forget any foreign language I do know.
I’m proud to say I have never even had one puff of a cigarette. So this year, I’m going to start! January must be the best time to start because they’ll be stacks of packs left by people trying to give up. I’ll start with one a day, then hopefully move up to 80 by the end of the first week. I believe smoking can work as an appetite suppressant, so I’ll just have to make sure I’ve consumed at least 5,000 calories before my first puff of the day.