It Takes A Village...

So an hour or so later, Nicor gas turned up to check the broken gas line. Surely all they needed was a Band Aid?
Remember, all we needed was four two inch holes to push the arbour posts into..

If I go missing after this entry, you'll know where to find me...

Hard Labour

What could be nicer on the Labor Day weekend, than doing a little yard project?
Grumpy sensibly enlisted the help of Spike to help him put in two beautiful arbours.

To find out how such an idyllic event turned into this....

check in later once the fire brigade and Nicor gas men have left....

Speaking Up

It’s one thing writing about yourself in a weekly column, but quite another talking about yourself, as I discovered when holding my first, and probably last, public appearance.
“You’ll be fine,” gushed my friend Kay Mary, who moves and shakes this town so much she could work for Jell-O. “Just read a couple of columns. Your British accent is so funny. They’ll love you.”
I spent two months preparing a 15 minute presentation that when it was done looked as if I’d put it together in the car on the journey there. I produced a short Powerpoint presentation with real pictures of Grumpy with the Disney character’s head transposed, popped my ‘kill-her’ heels from an earlier column in my bag and set off.
The dress I had bought specially for the occasion seemed to change the minute I put it on. In the store I looked a vision of cuteness in lime green. Walking into the restaurant where I was to speak, I suddenly turned into a giant under ripe water melon. My mouth was so dry I could have drunk the entire contents of Lake Michigan, but realised if I did so, I’d have to give my talk from the bathroom.
I was speaking to Naperville Rotary Club, who hold weekly lunches at the Key Wester restaurant. Kay Mary convinced me there wouldn’t be too many people there at this time of year. If 120 isn’t too many, I dread to think how many they normally attract.
When meeting new people, the three topics to avoid are sex, politics and religion. Somehow I managed to include all three without even thinking about it.
“My name is Decent, because I married the boyfriend with the silliest surname,” I began, desperately juggling my notes, a microphone and the four inch kill-her heels. “Actually that’s not true. I once went out with someone whose surname was SECKs, but my mother ended it because she didn’t believe in sex before marriage.”
This was met with a solitary polite giggle from a woman at the back. I continued on, my voice shaking so much I might as well have been riding a bicycle on gravel. I hoped no one could hear my stomach rumbling. I always thought it would be great to be an after dinner speaker. A free meal, followed by the chance to talk endlessly about yourself. But in retrospect, it would be much better to have it the other way round. I was far too nervous to eat, not in the least because I was terrified I would drop something on myself and have to talk from behind a large stain.
Eventually I drew to a close and the audience applauded politely, no doubt as relieved it was all over as I was. The problem with a name like Hilary (even with one L), is you have a lot to live up to. Where were all those banners with my name on? Surely there must have been a few left over from the Democratic convention they could have borrowed.
When it was over, a few kind people came up to thank me.
“There was one question I was too shy to ask,” said one. “I wish you could have spoken in American, so I could understand what you were saying.”

I would like to let readers know that I am now currently available as a before dinner speaker.

How To Prepare For Public Speaking

I'm writing this while waiting to leave to give my first public appearance. I'm due to speak this lunchtime to Naperville Noon Rotarians. It seemed a good idea when I agreed to do it, now I'm wandering who I feel more sorry for..myself for having to speak for half an hour about me to 120 freshly fed folks immediately after lunch, or for them for having to listen. Hope they snore quietly....

1. Spend six weeks carefully writing a presentation that when completed looks like you wrote it while waiting for the bus.

2. Toss and turn the previous night so by the time you get up the bags under your eyes have bags.

3. Receive one angst ridden phone call from daughter in England who complains "you only ever want to talk about you."

4. Find you have no bra straps that your new dress will cover.

5. Find the bright summer dress you bought two months ago especially for the occasion will now look silly because its raining.

6. Find the bright summer dress you bought two months ago especially for the occasion makes you look like a giant under ripe watermelon.

7. Think you should drink gallons of water to prevent your mouth drying up even more, but realise if you do that you'll need to deliver your speech from the bathroom.

8. Try to calm your nerves by practising Amazing Grace on the piano. Unfortunately this highlights two more problems. 1. It makes you feel you are about to attend a funeral. 2. You realise as well as not being funny, you can't play the piano either.

Why 2012 Will Be An Olympic Effort for the British

Last night finally saw the end of the Olympics, and it was with much excitement that I looked forward to the closing ceremony so I could have a glimpse of what the London Olympics might bring us in 2012.
For a start, it bought us Boris Johnson, the Mayor of London, ambling through the stadium with the head of the IOC and the Chinese leader. How proud I felt as I watched this buffoon of an overgrown schoolboy take the Olympic flag and wave it with all the pride of a mother hanging out stained washing. How wonderful to think this scruffy looking man, who couldn't even button his jacket, was representing London to the world, especially after what visually must have been the best Olympics ever.
It didn't get much better when a red double decker bus drove into the area. For a start, everyone knows you never get just one, you have to wait an hour for three to arrive together. Unfortunately, the scene where several people tried to pile on at one time was true, but not done humourously enough to make anyone think the British were poking fun at themselves.
Creatively, the bus opened up to reveal David Beckham, Leona Lewis and Jimmy Page. Beckham is a great ambassador for British sport, so it was fitting to see him up there. But the music? Oh dear. I know this is going to sound middle aged, but there is so much more Britain has to be proud of than a Pop Idol star and an aging guitarist. I expect our opening ceremony will be full of current rappers and singers because youth culture has taken over the country.
What people around the world will want to see is Britain's heritage. They'll want grenadier guards, the Royal family and all those other old fashioned things that made the country great. (And yes, I am using the past tense).When Americans talk about England, they aren't thinking about drunken girls laying in the streets or kids being knifed in the playground. They think about the Tower of London, the green rolling hills of the Cotswolds and (unfortunately) Hyacinth Bucket. Let's not disillusion them too much.
For what it's worth, this year the British team had their best Olympics in 100 years. They came 4th overall in the medals table with a total of 19 golds. They could be a force to be reckoned with in 2012. London could boost tourism and feel really proud of itself again. Excited as I was to see Buckingham Palace and the Red Arrows on TV, they are not currently the real face of London. Let's hope they become so in the next four years.

Biker Chicken

Can't say I've ever had a great desire to be a biker chick, but thought you might like this little video which accompanies an upcoming column. Of course by the time it appears in print, I'll be as cool as Sandy at the end of Grease, but this is the real scoop. Thanks to my friend David Harleyson for the lift. Next time I'll take the bus.
By the way, for outraged British readers, bikers do not have to wear helmets in Illinois. Personally I think it's ridiculous. Have you seen what happens to your hair without one?

London 2012: What To Expect

Much as I've enjoyed watching the Olympics, everytime I see something about the Chinese culture, I start getting butterflies, and I don't mean to eat. Next time the event will be held in London, and I dread to think what NBC will broadcast to show the 'real' London. Here are a few suggestions:
1. Cooking
The team will visit a greasy chip shop to learn how to deep fry bricks of potato. The batter on the fish will be soggy and Ann Curry will holds her nose as she bravely attempts to eat a pickled hard boiled egg.
2. Transport
The entire Today show will be devoted to how Matt Lauer reaches the Olympic Stadium from Leicester Square station. This is not because it is far away, but because everyone knows you can never catch a Northern line train in the rush hour without having to wait 40 minutes for one only for it to be cancelled as soon as you push your way in. Interviews with disgruntled passengers with sub titles because half don't speak English and the other half are under 25 so you cannot understand what they are saying anyway.
3. History
Queue up outside the Tower of London with 20,000 tourists while Al Roker dresses up like a beefeater, disappointed to learn there's no actual beef eating involved.
4. Shopping
Marvel as Meredith Viera tours Oxford Street, Regent Street and the rest of Central London, only to discover there are only six different shops with multiple branches at each address. Before hand the United States will take part in a telethon so she has enough money to buy a souvenir grenadier guardsman (made in China) whose head falls off when you take him out of the box.
5. Sport
Fortunately the Americans will still be able to watch their atheletes winning every event. However, in a valiant attempt to move higher up the medals table (4th this year, so not bad), Britain will be introducing some new sports. These will include cheese rolling, welly throwing, tossing the caber, dancing round the maypole, morris dancing, moaning about the weather and complaining about the government. Come to think of it, the Yanks may have an advantage with the last one.

Commercial Break

I'm really sorry to do this, but I'm afraid I'm going to use my power as blogging queen of Naperville to do some blatent advertising. It's for my new feature writing class at North Central College, Naperville. So far I have just one student. Although I'm sure he or she is very nice, it's going to be a tough class for both of us if it's run on a one to one basis. What's really worrying is I am running it on the back of my local success. It shows just how popular I really am, that only one person wants to come along. (Of course they may have seen the quality of my writing, which is guaranteed to put anyone off).
The course is purely for fun and runs for four weeks on Tuesday evenings from October 7th.
You can find out more about it by clicking on this link, then applying on line or by phone.
http://www.northcentralcollege.edu/x44936.xml

Hot Off The Press

I may be prone to exaggerate just occasionally, but this story is completely true. I was just leaving K mart this morning when I was stopped by an elderly lady who said she wanted to compliment me. It's not unsual for strangers to do that in this part of the world. What could be, I wondered? My new $4.99 watch strap perhaps? Maybe she recognised me from my columns?
Afraid not.
"Did you iron your blouse yourself?" she asked. "I iron and you've done such a beautiful job on it."
This will cause much hilarity in the Decent household, spread across the world as it now is. Grumpy always used to wonder why I bothered ironing anything in England because by the time I squished it into the closet it looked like it had been crumpled up and thrown in the litter basket.
My ironing skills are only second to my cleaning abilities (ie two hours later and everything looks much the same as it did to start with).
The odd thing was, the compliment wasn't even from a shop assistant, who I suspect are trained to always compliment every customer on at least one thing.
So I can only assume it confirms my deepest fears, that the population of Naperville is barking mad. Which is probably why I feel so at home here.

Batting for the Team

I've seen many sports games since coming to America - baseball, basketball, the midnight sales after Thanksgiving, but none quite like the one I witnessed yesterday. Jewish softball.
Should you wish to give it a try yourself, this is what you need:
Two mismatched teams of Jewish fathers and their young sons.
One mother, because equality is everything at our synagogue.
One brand new rabbi who wasn't told this would be part of the selection process.
Four solicitors, two doctors and a handful of businessmen.
One boy who eats everything his mother tells him to.
Six cellphones.
One Blackberry.
(The latter is particularly useful when trying to maintain contact with the pitcher from the back of the field).

Mind Your Language

A word to anyone reading this wanting to brush up on their English. Please do not think you'll ever learn the language by watching old English TV series on American television. FYI there is no one left in England like Hyacinth Bucket anymore (apart from my mother). I have never met anyone called Onslow (although a Mr Onslow did teach me history at school). No one has drunk in a tavern since 1844 (they're now called pubs). The only words with an E on the end are words like this one....(Hence no towne, shoppe, thank you very much). The only people who ever said "tickedy boo" were upper class twits in the 1920s and things bought in Harrods are not necessarily better than anywhere else, just more expensive. (Although very handy if you suddenly run out of life sized cuddly giraffes).

By The Time We Got To Phoenix....

Why we needed a connecting flight in a journey of just under four hours I don't know. Personally I always try to avoid them because I worry what will happen in the first flight is late. We arrived at San Jose airport in plenty of time to discover that indeed the flight was delayed by 45 minutes. That would therefore make us late for our connecting flight from Phoenix back to Chicago.
Fortunately South West Airlines being what they are, the second flight was also late so it didn't actually matter.
I did learn something interesting however. Not only do I now know the way to San Jose (and back), but by the time we got to Phoenix I also knew the way to Amarillo because that's where the flight after ours was heading.

Final Evaluation

It's the end of the conference, so time to fill in the evaluation form. Since I didn't actually take part in it myself, I'll have to be a little creative here. The only speaker I've heard is the tour guide at the winery on Wednesday morning, so...
1. Overall rating of the session: Good, would have been better if we could have sat down instead of trudging around a vineyard in extreme heat (outside) or extreme cold (inside).
2. Speaker's knowledge of the subject matter: Excellent. In fact if I could remember half of what he said I could open my own winery.
3. Speaker's ability to clearly and effectively communicate information: Poor. Would have been excellent if I had drunk a bit less.
4. Value of the online proceedings submission to the overall session experience: There was online information? I thought we just had to read the label.
5. Session Content: Liked the whites, not so keen on the reds.
6. Based upon session description provided, rate how well the session met your expectations: Let's see, winery tour? Well, we toured and I whined, so probably excellent.

Death Becomes Them...

We made one last stop this morning - at the beautiful St Joseph's Cathedral.
"Oh look, that's handy, the doors are open," I said to Grumpy, taking off my cap. Inside it was cool and dark, but the sun outside highlighted the lovely stained glass windows. The ceilings were elaborately painted. Quite a find, I thought.
Almost magically, there was a mass in progress. A few people were sitting in pews and a priest was speaking to them in Latin.
I was about to take out my camera to take a sneaky pic, when Grumpy suggested we leave.
As he pointed, I noticed a large rectangular box in the middle of the chapel. We'd wandered into the middle of a funeral service!

The Party's Over

In case you didn't believe I was spending the week with a group of nerds, here's the proof. To wind up the conference last night, they all got together and sang techie versions of old songs, which they had spent half the week writing.

Today we're heading back to Chicago, our luggage stuffed with every kind of promotional goody for the folks back home (in Grumpy's office, that is). Since Grumpy insists on only bringing hand luggage and we have a connecting flight, it's going to be a long day.....

Shaken Up

I had always thought Silicon Valley was named after all those California babes with silicon implants. Well, turns out that's not true. Silicon Valley is the the area that the Information Technology Highway passes through. Once I discovered that I was actually quite relieved. Anxious to get the core of the area, it meant I could seek out new technology instead of having to spend my time in plastic surgeons' offices.
So today I hit The Tech Museum of Innovation. This turned out to be the kind of place that gives museums a good name. It was completely hands on and full of summer camp kids learning about science. It even has its own Imax theatre, where I spent 45 minutes trying to convince myself I was really on dry land and not submerged at the bottom of the ocean millions of years ago.
Back in the museum, I found one exhibit that wasn't really necessary. A group of excited children were standing on a platform waiting for an assistant to hit the button.
"Which one do you want?" he said. "A little one, or a really big one like the 8.3 earthquake in Tokyo?"
"A really big one," they squealed with delight as he hit the button.
Within minutes the platform started rumbling and the kids were shaken about. They even got their picture taken as they screamed.
Since I have been worrying about earthquakes ever since I landed in California, it struck me as a strange place for such an exhibit. Surely you only have to wait long enough?
Having had enough of science and IT for one day, I decided to take refuge in the San Jose Museum of Modern Art over the road. Even they were technology crazy. They had two major exhibitions. One on light, the other on robots...

No "Napping" On This Wine Tasting Tour

This morning we headed off into the Santa Cruz mountains for a spot of wine tasting.
Our guide was so detailed I now have enough information to start my own vineyard.

For example, these are grapes.

This is the vine the grapes grow on...

And this is the kind of home you need if you're run a truly successful business. This one is the Bynington Winery.

After shum tashting, we headed to the underground vaultsh to shee how they sshtored the wine in barrelsh.. It washh lovely and cold down there, eshpecially compared to the 97 degreesh outside.

Even shober, I'm sure this would have still been pretty.

From there we went on to another vineyard, built in a converted school house.

It was quite an education...

After a few more glasses, everything started going round in circles...

Pity wine tasting was never on the timetable when I was at school.

Thoughts for Food

Just as all the men here speak tech, so all the women speak food.
"How did you like that buffet last night?" asked Italia over breakfast.
"Oh I liked it better than the night before's, but not as much as Mondays."
"Did you try the spanakopia?"
"Oh, yes, it was so good."
"And those little baked potatoes. Such a good idea."
As we sat chewing on tiny bagels and warm hotmeal, we started planning how to smuggle food out for the day's trip. As usual, I was totally unprepared. My designer Dorney and Bourke handbag may have attracted comments from the breakfast hostess, but it failed miserably in the packed lunch department.
Mexica, Italia and my new friends New Yorka and Arizona had sensibly brought along some of the freebie bags handed out at yesterday's Expo. I was left trying to cram granola bars and a banana into what little space I had around my purse and sunglasses.

How To Keep Your Town Pretty....

These lovely fountains can be found in the heart of downtown San Jose. The reason they're so nice.... Is that everyone follows the rules very carefully.....

Small Talk

This conference lark is exhausting. After a hard day's shopping and sunbathing yesterday, last night we attended one of the many parties. This one was run by CA, in a little restaurant buried away in the heart of San Jose. There was live music and we sat out on a roof top patio decorated with twinkling lights. There was plenty of food and free flowing drink. Luckily I now seem to know at least as many people as Grumpy does, and if anybody dares to talk techie in front of me, I simply turn the conversation around to something more intellectual, like "where do you live?"

It May Not Be Art, But....

Does this face look familiar? No, I've no idea who it is either! Actually it's a computerised characture Grumpy had done at yesterday's Expo. The artist drew it on a screen and with a bit of software to colour it in, this was the result. Personally I think it looks more like a young Mel Brooks....

Santana Row

I know they try to eat healthily in California, but this is ridiculous!
Flower power lives on

Where the beautiful people shop in San Jose - Santana Row

Techie Talk

It's not easy being married to a computer nerd. I've never pretended to understand what Grumpy does for a living, and to be honest it's never been much of a problem, until now.
Over lunch today, the conversation turned to our husbands.
"Mine works for IBM. He does gobblidook de tripity dum," said English. (Okay, she didn't actually say that, but she might as well have done.)
"Mine's been cropity duddling for the past 15 years," said Mexica. "I think he deals with your company."
"Mine outsources," added Italia, looking at me. "In fact he prodly cookles diddly squat from your husband's company."
"That's nice," I said knowledgeably. "Pass the salt."

The Sweet Smell of Success

The topic of today's conference was shopping. Our keynote speaker English decided there was so much to be learnt from the experience, that the only thing we could do was make the session as practical as possible. Together with the rest of the group, (both coincidentally from Chicago) we set off in a cab to the nearest shopping area. There we saw at first hand how society can benefit from both an indoor mall (lots of air-conditioning) and an outdoor one (plenty of sunshine).
While English headed off alone to leave us trainees alone, I decided as newly appointed project leader it was up to me to show them what to do.
Making a dive for Jo Malone, the perfumerie that I never would go into in London because it was so expensive, I showed them how to choose the perfect scent. I felt my expertise really came to the fore when I told them I would only buy the travel size because I didn't want to check my luggage in on the return trip. (I neglected to say if I'd have spent much more Grumpy would have made me walk home).
After an inexpensive but delightful lunch we all headed back to our respective hotels to reflect on what we had learnt and write up our reports. Hope you've enjoyed reading mine.

(Expo) sing Myself

So here I am waiting in the lobby so Grumpy can take me into this evening's expo. Peering through the door it looks just like the Ideal Home Show (an old favourite of mine in London). Can't wait. But where is he? He told me not to go in without him.

Who's that waving? Oh, it's my new English friend. I guess I could go in with you. I imagine I'll find Grumpy inside.

What? A glass of wine? That is a good idea. Hmm. Very good. I'm liking this better already.

It's actually not quite as exciting as the Ideal Home because even though I'm staring at the numerous stands I have no idea what they are selling. Never mind. A pen? Thank you. A key fob? Don't mind if I do.

"How about this?" says English.

"Blackjack? Not really my game, but if they're handing out free chips?"

I lose my chips and we continue on. English tries her hand out at Wii, something I have been trained to never go near.

Thish wine ish really quite good. Gueshh it musht be from California. Mmm.

The buffet table is quite good too. Difficult to juggle a glass of wine and a handful of freebies, but I manage to pull it off so I can load my plate with chicken tenders. Mm. They're good too.

My happy state is snapped by a familiar voice behind me.

"Where have you been?" says Grumpy.

"I thought I'd shtart without you," I said. "Look at all thish good stuff I've got."

He peered at my little action figure and a backscratcher. He didn't look too impressed.

"Sorry, musht go," I said. "I've just seen another friend."

Team Decent

Team Decent is going for gold! While Grumpy is hard at work conferencing (or whatever they call it) all day, I'm doing my bit for the team in the social networking department. Yesterday I made four new friends. That meant at the latest evening reception I was able to introduce him to some useful new people.
Of course the trouble is, I have no idea who any of these people are. Just because you have a jolly chat on a tour bus with someone doesn't make their husband the head of IBM, but then again you never know.
By the end of the week, I expect Grumpy will be rubbing shoulders with the janitor, local bus driver and hotel piano player, and it will all be down to me!
And to think he didn't want to bring me. Make yourself indispensable, and you never know what trips you might find yourself going on!

SHARE and Share Alike

The name of the conference Grumpy is attending is organised by SHARE, an independent group of computer nerds who like to get together twice a year and talk technology. I assumed that the letters SHARE stood for something, but apparently not, it's just because they like to share information. (That in itself shows how uncreative these technical types are).
It's been bothering me, so all week I've been thinking what SHARE means to me, and this is what I've come up with:
Silicon valley Heavyweights who Arrange Relaxing Excersions.
(Don't be surprised if you see it on their website next conference...)

The Winchester Story Part 2

A few photos from this extraordinary Victorian mansion. Mrs Winchester was highly superstitious, and had a fixation with the number 13. Take a careful look at the photo of the clock....

The Winchester House Story Part 1

With breakfast out of the way, it was off on our first excersion, to a local historical landmark, the Winchester Mystery House. Seventeen of us (all women apart from a token man from Austria), boarded the coach with high expectations of a great day out.
We'd only been travelling for ten minutes when the coach driver pulled over.
"Typical," I thought. "We've broken down already."
In fact I was wrong. We were actually at our destination. We could have almost walked there, but then nobody walks anywhere in America.
The house was extraordinary (see pix in next entry). Interestingly it was built by the heiress to the Winchester gun family, who lost her mind after her husband and child died. She believed if she kept the building work going (which she did 24 hours a day for 38 years), it would keep the evil spirits away from her. She spent millions of dollars on the huge project, which only came to an end when she died in 1922. (Not that she felt guilty about the effects the family business had on the native Americans, you understand).
The house is full of bizarre features, most of which were done purely to keep the building work going. Staircases leading nowhere, tiny doors opening up onto brick walls, after a while it made some of the latest gothic monstrosities in Naperville appear normal.
The irony is, if Sarah Winchester had lived in England, she would have had none of these problems. You can find builders there who wouldn't be able to finish a simple house extension in 38 years.

Ladies Who Breakfast

When you're a desperate housewife in Naperville, you head downtown to join the ladies who lunch.
When you're desperate trophy wife in San Jose, you head back to the swanky hotel for breakfast with the other conference widows.
I'm not usually one to push myself forward, but since no one knew how shy and retiring I really am, there was no point in letting them into the secret.
So armed with a bowl of oatmeal from the buffet, I plonked myself down at a table with a few other women.
Turns out some of them are seasoned conference widows. They follow their husbands around the country, shopping and sightseeing while their husbands work.
"How shallow," I thought, checking that I had remembered to bring my ticket for today's trip.
Some had been coming for many years. They knew each other and talked fondly of that time in San Diego or the one in Chicago, or was it New York?
Seems I've been missing out all these years. After half an hour or so, I realised how useful it was that Grumpy bought me with, and I don't mean just to tidy up the bathroom.
I could sightsee all day so he could return not only with all the information he had gathered at the conference, but also a full working knowledge of San Jose, even though he's not going to have time to actually see any of it.

The Name Game

Last night I attended my first conference reception, held at a swanky San Jose hotel. (Alas, not the one we're staying in). I could bore you to death with a load of techie small talk, but I probably would have understood more if I'd been talking to Martians.
I was "attacked" by an apparently drunk woman who couldn't understand how anyone in England could be called Fanny because of the seemingly hilarious connotation the word has. (No, I don't understand the relevance of this either). More interesting was a gentleman called Randall, who explained although he had grown up being called Randy, felt he had to change it back to his given name because English people kept laughing at him. Since Grumpy's boss has the same name, I've long got over that one. However, I did have a little more sympathy with this new Randy. His surname was Ness.

Something to Make Grumpy Happy....

Something tells me Grumpy's going to feel right at home here. It must be a sign....

Scenes of San Jose

We arrived safely in San Jose, and had plenty of time to get to know the area before the conference started. It's a town of great contrasts, old mixed with new. Modern America with a strong Spanish influence.

This must be where Kit parks, although someone needs to tell them there is only one D in rider.
This busker had a lot of competition. Today is the last day of the San Jose Jazz Festival.

Transport, right in the middle of the town!

A taste of old Spain in the heart of San Jose.

It could only be California (or maybe Hawaii, or somewhere in the Caribbean...)

Grumpy is going to have to do a lot of juggling this week, if he's going to fit everything in.