Dog Blog

For all you dog lovers out there, here's a taste of the Morton Arboretum's Husky Heroes event today. I'd hoped for huge teams of dogs pulling sleds across the snowy wasteland. Unfortunately scrappy snow meant no sleds, and somehow the dogs' hearts just weren't in it!

Absence Stirs the Heart for Fonda

Peter Fonda rode into town last night, to celebrate the 40th anniversary of Easy Rider.

He was so friendly!

For a mere $20 he would sing anything fans wanted.

"Can you make this one out, 'Dear Oprah...?'"

Yes, she's at it again. Geordie Sue meets Peter Fonda, but she didn't get a cuddle this time.

For any Easy Rider fans out there, a few comments straight from the biker's mouth...

"Gary Cooper once said 'If I know what I'm doing, I don't have to act. By the time I started I knew everything about these characters. I designed the costumes and the motorcycles." (And wrote and produced it).

"We travelled about 10,000 miles for Easy Rider because we had to redo some scenes. It was all real locations, no sets at all."

"Riding at 80 miles an hour was easy. At 20 to 25, it was a bitch to ride!"

Third Year Lucky

Today marks the third anniversary of the day I first laid eyes on Naperville. Grumpy and I came to visit for a few days before making our final move here in March 2007. Thought I'd just share some excerpts of e mails I wrote to friends back home when we returned to England.

"What a whirlwind week! Everything turned out much better than I could have even hoped for. We have always loved the Americans, but the people of the mid west turned out to be even friendlier than the ones we usually meet. They seem really genuine and we have already made friends with some in our new town..."

"On the Tuesday I met with the editor in chief of the Naperville Sun newspaper. It is a local paper, but because everything is so much bigger out here, it has a readership of 20,000. (My old paper was 6,000). He said he was impressed I had made contact from England and thought it showed real gumption. That would never happen in England - people will hardly respond to an e mail. Anyway, the upshot is he will give me work when I arrive, and wants me to start by going along to the new residents club. To be honest, the whole place is a bit like Stepford. A lot of it is very twee (the downtown area is divine)but the people are genuine and you just have to immerse yourself in the culture.."

"We are already gathering people for Grumpy's 50th birthday barbecue in July and we don't even have an address as yet!"

If only I'd have know how things would turn out...I'd have moved here 10 years earlier!

Stuck In The Middle Without You

Suited and booted at 7.20 a.m. I arrive at Naperville's newest boutique hotel, the Arista. I was there to attend the Silent Samaritan's breakfast, where the keynote speaker was Bonnie Wurzbacher, VP for Coca Cola no less.
I found somewhere to park in the dim early morning light, and went to pull the key out of the ignition. It was stuck fast. Luckily I had my phone.
"Wassa matter," answered a familiar voice from our bathroom back at home.
"I've got a problem with the car. I can't get the key out," I wailed.
"What do you expect me to do about it?" said Grumpy, obviously flustered. "I don't know anything about cars. You told me you didn't need to join AAA. I told you the other day the car needs servicing and you ignored me.What do you expect me to do? Come and get you? I'm going to work."
Actually I did expect him to come and get me, and push the car all the way back home single handed if necessary, but unfortunately I'm not married to Arnold Schwarzenegger. Yet.
"Go and ask for help in the hotel." He put the phone down.
"But how can I leave the car with the key in the ignition?" I wailed to no one in particular.
Then I reasoned if the car wouldn't move it wouldn't be much use to a thief anyway. Of course if I wasn't nearly hysterical, I would have also remembered I was in Naperville, when any would be thief would be more likely to valet my car than steal it.
I spotted a man getting out of a car nearby. I leapt out of the driver's seat.
"Cooeee, excuse me," I yelled, in a voice that he wouldn't hear if I was breathing down his ear.
"Excuse me, can you help me?" (When it comes to speech, what I lack in volume I make up for in quantity).
Fortunately he spotted me waving wildly and gallantly came to my rescue. Delighted, I allowed a complete stranger to get into my car. He jiggled the key. I was secretly worried it would start right away, but it didn't. Phew, proof I wasn't just being a feeble woman. If there's one place you don't want to be all girly and pathetic it's outside an event full of strong American businesswomen.
"The car isn't in park," he said, moving the gear stick. The car sprang into life. In the semi darkness I'd left it in reverse.

Remembering Haiti

We've all become used to the terrible scenes of devastation in Haiti following the earthquake on January 24th. Children crying in the streets, people being dragged out from under buildings. Think of Haiti and you think of dust, rubble, destruction and death.

Today I'd like to share with you another side of Haiti. Thanks to my friend Joe Raoul from Naperville Rotary Club, here are some photos of his homeland. Look at the smiling faces, the colours, the very essence of Haiti. It's paradise, not hell, a place where tourists flock and the people enjoy that laid back Caribbean vibe. A place of outstanding beauty and laughter. A place where not only the landscape is naturally beautiful.

Will Haiti ever get back to this? You bet it will. The Haitians and the rest of the world will never forget recent events. But their spirit will always shine through. The good news is you can help them by donating now to www.redcross.org

Drift On By

All relaxed and happy after an evening with Dionne, we returned to Onesti’s for dessert. This time we went downstairs to their martini lounge. I don’t know what was more exciting. That their great singer was still performing, or that we’d finally found a place open in this country beyond 9 p.m.
The room could have actually been the basement of your house. Low ceiling, fireplace, comfy sofas and a bar. (For those readers from outside the country, a lot of Americans do actually have bars in their basements, which could explain why you can’t get a drink in a restaurant past 9 p.m.)
Of course the real reason I like cocktail bars is not the drink, but to people watch. (Believe that and you’ll believe anything). After a couple of minutes we realized we definitely weren’t in Naperville anymore.
A thick set man came in with some young ladies. It was like the cast of Jersey Shore. It brought back fond memories of England. How I miss those Essex girls!
Anyhow, the singer suddenly spotted a couple of stars in the intimate audience and asked if they would like to sing.
The word Drifters started being banded about.
“Hey,” I hissed at Grumpy. “You don’t think it’s THE Drifters do you? I thought they were dead.”
“More like the Grifters,” he said, unkindly reaching for his encyclopaedia. Recently Grumpy has insisted on bringing his encyclopaedia wherever he goes. He says its his cell phone, but I’ve never seen him make a call on it. He couldn’t find anything.
The men sang solos, and they were really good. Could they be the real thing?
We were introduced to the Jersey Shores guy, who turned out to be their manager, the manager of the legendary Drifters we were told.
I was beside myself. What luck! A free after concert. I hardly noticed that the amazing David Elliot, who we had just heard singing with his mother, Dionne Warwick, on stage was in the room.
We finally got home at 2 a.m. after one of our rare ‘real’ Saturday nights out. As we got into bed Grumpy was laughing, which is odd because usually it’s the other way round. (Think about it).
“I’ve found them on my phone,” he said. “They weren’t the legendary Drifters, they were the Legendary Drifters, a tribute band.”
So in the end we had spent the night in a basement with a sound-a-like band in a little town in the middle of nowhere. But I’ll always remember it as the night we visited the coolest Chicago nightclub and jammed with superstars. It was just that we’d had to leave them to spend an hour with Dionne Warwick.

Dionne Warwick plays St Charles

For those of you who couldn't make it, sit back and enjoy this little selection.

I Eat A Little Prayer

“Here’s an interesting marketing ploy,” I said to Grumpy. We’d just booked tickets on line to see Dionne Warwick sing in St Charles. “A local restaurant has got our e mail and invited us to book with them when we go to the concert.”
I liked their chutzpah, so made a booking, not sure what we were really letting ourselves in for. For those of you reading from outside the Naperville area, St Charles is a small town about 20 minutes drive away straddling the Fox River. For those of you from Naperville it’s well, ok, but never going to be as nice as here.
The concert was held in an 84-year-old theatre, the Arcada. Not as grand as Downer’s Grove Tivoli, but somewhere you could easily imagine Rudolph Valentino flickering on a screen as the organ fell. (They still use it – just like the Tivoli).
Back the food. The restaurant turned out to be the Onesti Italian Steakhouse and Supper Club. It’s a 160-year-old church transformed into a gourmet Italian restaurant located a few blocks west of the theatre.
The atmosphere was great. Dionne was playing on a tape (or she could have been practicing out back, not sure which) and the food was good. (Best excuse from a waiter I have ever heard by the way). “Sorry Sir, didn’t notice your prime rib was overcooked, I’m colour blind.” There was a set from a great singer (think Harry Connick Jr meets Michael Buble). But as time ticked by, I became a bit twitchy that we wouldn’t get to the show in time.
As if he could read my mind, a man appeared at the microphone. A little man who could have been Danny DeVito in a long haired wig.
“Don’t worry about the time folks,” he said. “They can’t start the show without me and we have shuttled buses!”
I wasn’t sure if he was joking. As it turned out he was the real star of the night, Ron Onesti. What I hadn’t realized was that he owns both the restaurant and the theater. He seems to be building quite a little empire in St Charles. He did indeed appear on stage later to introduce Dionne, and we spotted some of his staff among the audience.

Toe to Toe

Have you ever headed for the dentist, a mammogram or an MRI and wished you were having a spa treatment instead? You'd be all relaxed and happy, instead of a nervous wreck worrying about pain and results. Last week I enjoyed a wonderful, but somewhat unusual pedicure at Coldwater Creek Spa in Naperville. (You might guess I'm going to say something nice in the hope they'll read this and offer me a free one next time. Anytime you catch me making up names means I'm terrified of a law suit).
I've had pedicures in this country before. They're much like in England. You go into a nail salon run by non English speaking Vietnamese, sit bolt up right in a massaging chair, they splash your feet with water, give them a quick rub, a bit of polish and charge you around $25.
I'd never experienced anything quite like this one before.
My technician spoke in hushed tones.
"I'm going to percolate your toes, massage your feet with eucalyptus and rosemary, simmer on a low heat for 45 minutes then decorate with raspberry coulis," she said.
(Of course that wasn't exactly what she said but something similar. I couldn't hear because she was whispering).
"And how about a relaxing eye mask?"
Eye mask? For a pedicure? What was she trying to hide from me?
"No? Well smell this instead." She put her fingers up to my nose. I was becoming less relaxed by the minute. I'd declined the eye mask, so what was she trying to do now? Knock me out with chloroform? Sometimes I'm my own worst enemy. Relaxing is not something that comes naturally to me.
"Now just relax," she breathed, noticing my fingers piercing the leather armrest.
Suddenly my chair started to move. Not vibrate, but move slowly backwards until I was virtually horizontal.
With a swift movement she pulled a light over my feet, which were suspended in mid air. Had I a made a mistake? It was like visiting your gynaecologist with your trousers on, or having a baby in a soap opera.
Lying back I couldn't see what she was doing exactly, so I peered across to the woman next to me who was also lying back flat with a mask on her face. Soft lighting and music did help me to relax a little, and I realised somewhat disappointingly that had I opted for the eye mask, I wouldn't be blinded by the light over my feet.
About 45 minutes later it was all over and I was led back to the relaxation room, where a hot towel was placed around my neck while I waited for my tootsies to dry.
Here's a tip. Don't get a pedicure if you have to put socks and winter boots on directly afterwards. Despite my best endeavours, I did smudge a couple of toes. Still, at this time of year, I guess no one will notice.

Soap Oprah

I'm not the only Brit living the American dream. Here's photographic evidence of my friend Sue Stokes doing the same thing. One of Sue's dreams was to meet her hero Oprah Winfrey. She films her popular daily talk show in Chicago, but getting tickets is very hard. Unpreturbed, Sue wrote in when she knew Susan Boyle was going to be appearing and before she knew it, she was being invited as a VIP guest to not only watch, but be interviewed by Oprah herself!

"Can it be true?" asks Oprah. "I'm finally able to meet my hero Sue in the flesh?"

"It's true Oprah, how wonderful for you to finally meet me."

"Look girly, she may be talking to you know, but she's got her arm around me, so butt out."

Sue misses no chance to do her best as she auditions to be Oprah's replacement.

"Wow," says Oprah. "Such a pleasure to finally meet my hero, but remember, I'll always have the best hair."

Hot Chocolate

What a great place Naperville is! We even have our own Chocolate Festival! Now in it's seventh year, the NCO Chocolate Festival raises money for families and children and need.

For future reference it takes place at Nequa Valley High School, not Waubonsie where I first tried, although they did have an exciting basket ball game going on there. This is actually more embarrassing than it sounds, because I actually wrote a piece advertising the event, then turned up at the wrong place. Anyhow, back to the chocolate...

Naperville firefighters put on a great cookery demonstration, making a delicious chocolate mousse. Have to say it wasn't a patch on mine, but their excuse was they can only make super quick recipes in case they get called out to a fire. When I make mine, it's usually a reason to call out the firefighters.

Since the firefighters work 24 hour shifts, they take it in turn to prepare meals. No frozen ready meals for them, real food is very important.

"Keep going. It's the only way we're going to get on the Food Network."

All that pumping action comes in useful for filling tiny cups with chocolate mousse too.

Neatly does it....

"I told you. All the spoons have to face the same way."

Don't forget the decoration.

Elsewhere, some chocolaty words of wisdom.

And more than a few treats to buy or sample..or both. These are from Le Chocolate du Bouchard, the Naperville chocolate cafe I take all my visitors to. It's owner, Cathy Buchard, told me she was off to New York on a taste finding mission immediately after the show, so she could restock for Valentine's Day. It's a tough job, but someone has to do it.

Here's an usunusal sight. An ice cream van in the snow. Come to think of it, you don't see too many in the summer months either.

Hat's Off To Conan

All this fuss on late night TV about switching the NBC schedules. Anyone would think they are doing it purely to boost ratings! Personally I have become much more of a Conan fan since this all started. He's become much funnier since he started commenting on all this drama. Kudos to NBC for allowing him to say whatever he wants too. I certainly wouldn't want to stand up and tell people what I really thought of my employers...(but only because they're so wonderful, supportive, astute, generous and far sighted no one would believe me).

Haiti: Time To Get Out Of The Virtual World

I wasn't surprised that five minutes after hearing the news about the dreadful earthquake in Haiti appeals and good wishes would spring up on facebook. An affluent city like Naperville is full of well meaning people who like to raise money for the underprivileged by doing important things like holding cocktail parties or selling accessories.
It came as no surprise to me when I attended today's meeting of Naperville Rotary, to discover that the local tapas palace Meson Sabika will be donating it's entire takings next Tuesday to the American Red Cross. It's owner, Hossein Jamali, is well known for his generosity. He's doing a great thing. And by taking part in their almost daily activity of eating out, Napervillians can quit worrying about their waistlines for a moment because they can engage in their favourite activity while feeling they are doing something for a good cause. It's a way of really doing some good in the world, without even getting your dishes dirty.
What did surprise me, however, was a short speech given by Rotarian Joe Raoul. He left Haiti 45 years ago to follow his American dream. He recalled as a child debating whether the now partially demolished Presidential palace in Port-au-Prince was more beautiful than the White House. He told us that just that morning he had finally been able to speak with one of two sisters still living there.
"She told me she and her family had been sleeping outside because the walls of their house were so fragile," Joe said. "She's a pharmacist, so I asked her if she was still going to work. Her response was, 'what work?' there is no where to work anymore."
Pat Merryweather, our president, said plans were already underway to send Rotarians to Haiti to build and stock a clinic next month. These are people not afraid to get their hands dirty. I know fundraising Stateside and physically rebuilding a broken country are equally important. Just spare me the smugness that some comfortable Americans exude in their attempts to help their fellow man. Don't Twitter or update your Facebook status so people will think how caring you are. Just shut up and do something about it.

Tea Time

I don't really miss afternoon tea now I'm living in the U.S, but when someone told me about an 'English' tea shop in Naperville, I couldn't resist the temptation to pay a visit. It's situated in a strip mall in an area called English Rows (geddit?) on the southern most tip of the city. It was very pleasant, but so 'Napervilized' we may have stopped for tea in the twilight zone.
Firstly, it was so beautifully decorated and twee I wasn't sure if the dainty chairs and sofas were for sitting on or for sale. There was a little fireplace and shiny hardwood floors. I half expected Goldilocks to appear asking "who's been drinking my tea?' The walls were Pottery Barned with shades of chocolate and coffee, the nearest you can probably get to tea over here. The light fittings were obviously very American, and antique like accessories decorated every spanking new surface.
In an attempt to add some real English class, a tape played classical ballet music.
There wasn't really a menu, but you could pre-book afternoon tea for $18 a head. We went for a pot of tea for two. The tea came in a hand filled bag nestled in a white china tea pot. Alongside it was what the owner called a 'caddy'. A caddy is really a tin to keep fresh tea in. This was a teapot shaped dish to put the bag in.
We had a good variety of teas to choose from, so went with English Breakfast, which I think is the best for a nice strong cuppa. Of course we had to ask for milk because Americans usually drink tea black if they drink it at all. Didn't bother to ask for the separate hot water jug for fear of seeming too picky.
Forgo the scone because it looked too American, but enjoyed a very sweet sugar cookie, which alas bore no resemblance to an English biscuit.
We could have bought any of the antique tea cups or pots on display, but noted ironically the crockery the shop used was just like we had at home. Unfortunately not shipped from England, but bought in Crate and Barrel.
The owner had plenty of time to talk to us because the place was deserted. Apparently it has been open for four years and the bulk of their business comes from parties and showers. There isn't a huge call for people desperate for a cuppa in these parts obviously.
As we sipped our tea and looked out of the window, I'm not sure what seemed more odd. That we were looking out over a piece of Illinois prairie land, or that the shop was the cleanest and sparkiest place I had ever stopped for tea in my life.

Glancer Magazine, Community Living at a Glance

Glancer Magazine, Community Living at a Glance

Ten Uses for Snow

With a foot of snow currently being dumped on our area and plenty more around the world it seems, I've compiled this useful list. Feel free to add your own suggestions...

1. Pour red dye onto your lawn and tell everyone the sharks in your pond ate the mail man.
2. Challenge Dubai's new record breaking tallest building by building the world's tallest snowman.
3. Offer your local old people's home free cryonics.
4. Teach your dog to ski.
5. Bury the snow shovel so you aren't able to clear the driveway.
6. Save electricity by turning off your fridge and sinking the contents into the snow.
7. Hold an ice cream party. No problem with freezer space.
8. It gives you something pretty to look at while trying to avoid taking the car out.
9. Become a property developer by building the first igloo community in your area.
10. Bury your husband's/boyfriend's Wii controller in it and tell him he can't have it back until Spring.

10 Reasons To Enjoy Cold Weather

Both in the U.S and back in Britain, people are struggling with extreme low temperatures and snow. My glass is still half full, even though it may be temporarily frozen. Here are some reasons why:

1. It’s the only time of year you can warm up by opening the fridge.
2. It’s much too cold to do any yard work.
3. Your yard looks just as nice as your neighbour’s when it’s covered in snow.
4. Aren’t icicles pretty?
5. I’m not fat. I’m just wearing six sweaters.
6. Animals instinctively more to keep an extra layer of fat to keep them warm. How can you argue with nature?
7. Hot flashes come as a welcome, yet far less frequent, relief.
8. You can always be guaranteed a good laugh when TV reporters are forced outside to report on the weather.
9. You get a round of applause when you finally make out of your house into a store.
10.It’s a great excuse to buy new boots, gloves, scarves, hats. Tick as appropriate.

New Year's Revolution

This year my resolution is to become the most famous Brit in Naperville. In order to further my endless quest for celebrity, I’m planning my attempt more seriously. I figure if I behave like a celeb, it won’t be long until I am one.


1.I’m going to appear on Dancing with the Stars, Dancing on Ice and Celebrity Big Brother. It won’t matter a jot that no one knows who I am because no one knows who the other contestants are either. Grumpy will appear on my behalf in I’m A Celebrity Get Me Out of Here because after years of enduring my cooking, bugs will make a delicious change.

2.I’m going to star in a soap opera. During one dramatic episode I’m going to don a fat suit when I have a nightmare about my future life, if I can find one big enough to fit me.

3.I’m going to be arrested following my unsuccessful drug overdose in a local hotel. As long as they don’t insist on sending me to hospital to have my stomach pumped, I’ll be fine. (Alas no celebrity pay check to cover the bill).

4.I’m going to secretly donate millions to my favourite charity, then let the information slip to the Press. (No celebrity pay check for that one either, but I do have Press connections).

5.I’m going to buy a chichu, chiwawa, chiqu…Pug, and keep it in my handbag.

6.I’m going to be a guest on CSI Naperville. Everyone watching will ask “what was that show she used to be on?”

7.I’m going to do the countdown at the Carillon next New Year’s Eve. The British accent will add a touch of class to the event, even though to me it’ll feel like I’m going under anaesthetic.

8.I’m going to become a Cougar, one of those older women in a relationship with a younger man. Forgot, I’m already doing that.

9.I’m going to adopt six orphan girls from Vietnam so they can grow up to run a nail parlour for me.

10.I’m going to start wearing one rubber glove when I do the washing up so at my funeral my family can do the same as a tribute.

Cold (Dis)comfort

We've learnt a few lessons the hard way since moving to the U.S. The first was never to stop at Gary, Indiana, the second, not to attend any Thanksgiving Midnight Madness sales. Now we have a new one to add to the list. If you leave your home for a couple of days in the winter months, remember to leave the heating on.
We've had a hectic, but great new year. On New Year's Eve we attended the sort of party that our kids put photos up of on facebook (which is where you'll have to go if you want to see ours). We spent the night at an O'Hare hotel, then a beautiful couple of snowy days in Michigan, leaving before another two foot of snow landed on it.
"Are you sure we don't need to leave the water running?" I asked Grumpy before we left our house. "The pipes can freeze easily you know."
"Should be ok," he said. "We don't need to bother."
Given that the powder room faucet leaks anyway we thought no more about it.
We arrived home on Saturday night around 9 p.m. By then the temperatures outside were about -15 degrees Celsius.
We went in and took off our coats, then promptly put them back on again.
"I might have to sleep in the freezer," I told Grumpy, pulling my hat over my ears. "It'll be warmer than this."
The heating worked fine, but boy does it take a long time to reach 70/21 when you start so low.
Even the fire didn't help much, so in the end we got even more dressed and went to bed.
We could, I suppose, have warmed up with a hot shower, but it was too cold to get undressed, and anyhow the shower tap had frozen. Eventually Grumpy managed to get it working, but I swear it was shooting out icicles.