Wednesday 27 January 2010
The Cat-Walk
As I was pacing my almost fully furnished “flat” on the quest to keep myself busy, I decided to have my very own afternoon fashion show, right here at apartment 209! I had just finished cleaning my three rooms and bathroom for the third time this week when I began hanging and putting some clothes away. When I opened the closet doors I stood there staring into my closet and saw a little piece of fashion beauty... a White House Black Market silver and black dress glowing at me. A dress I bought over a year ago and never have had the chance to wear. As it dawned on me of this atrocious fashion crime I had committed, I knew I needed to do something. So to make it up to my stunning silk dress, I took it down, zipped it up and slipped into some ultra high and ultra amazing, six inch, snakeskin, platform, heals and walked the Orchard Plaza cat-walk! I may have stooped to a new low but it felt sooooo fantastic!! I walked around that apartment like I was Gisele Bundchen modelling for Prada. After strutting my stuff I poured a drink, turned on some music, and dug into Star magazine to see what my fellow models were up to. It was like my own cocktail party with me, myself and I. I was even close to making myself an extra dirty martini, until I looked at the clock and saw it wasn’t even 12. Probably best to leave the cocktail till later since it might justify me as a hopeless alcoholic if I were sitting alone in a fancy dress drinking before noon... but I can’t promise at my next show I won’t! After all, it would be at the runway after party and all in the name of fashion!!
Sunday 24 January 2010
Now I know how my Mom feels
It seems lately most of my everyday adventures have been in some way or another to do with clothes. When Andy and I got home from a wonderful holiday vacay in Florida with my family, there was a huge over flowing laundry basket staring me right in the eyes! I just couldn’t believe how much there was to do, since I could have sworn I did it all before I left! Then at a closer glance I noticed they were all over sized, smelly, and Andy’s. So for me this meant getting right back into my stay at home fiancée duties.
After hours and hours of washing clothes that once had been wet with sweat and now just smelled soured, I neatly folded the manly strips of cotton and went to putting them away. Now, since I have moved in, I must say, I have taken over my fair share of the only mini closet in our apartment, along with most of the space under the bed, with my clothes. This said, I have made it my duty to make sure Andy’s clothes are washed, perfectively folded, and organized in his designated clothes space. But no more!!
After months of playing Suzy housewife I have had enough. Every time I fold all his clothes, down to his extremely long black socks to his little European boxer shorts, he seems to destroy my neat organized stacks! I made a jean stack, t-shirt stack, workout/ bathing suit stack, and underwear stack, not including the hanging of all his collared shirts. Then, when on the prowl for one pair of spandex biker shorts, he manages to ruin all the stacks and even, somehow, manages to un-hang a few shirts in the process! It is as if he purposefully attacks his clothes like a dog attacks the yard for a buried bone! It is unreal! The rage just explodes from me when I see him open his side of the closet in search of something to wear. I now know how my mom must have felt when she washed and folded the laundry and watched us destroy her precious time in the swift motion of grabbing a shirt at the bottom of a neatly folded stack of clothes! I suppose the saying is true... “what goes around comes around”!
After hours and hours of washing clothes that once had been wet with sweat and now just smelled soured, I neatly folded the manly strips of cotton and went to putting them away. Now, since I have moved in, I must say, I have taken over my fair share of the only mini closet in our apartment, along with most of the space under the bed, with my clothes. This said, I have made it my duty to make sure Andy’s clothes are washed, perfectively folded, and organized in his designated clothes space. But no more!!
After months of playing Suzy housewife I have had enough. Every time I fold all his clothes, down to his extremely long black socks to his little European boxer shorts, he seems to destroy my neat organized stacks! I made a jean stack, t-shirt stack, workout/ bathing suit stack, and underwear stack, not including the hanging of all his collared shirts. Then, when on the prowl for one pair of spandex biker shorts, he manages to ruin all the stacks and even, somehow, manages to un-hang a few shirts in the process! It is as if he purposefully attacks his clothes like a dog attacks the yard for a buried bone! It is unreal! The rage just explodes from me when I see him open his side of the closet in search of something to wear. I now know how my mom must have felt when she washed and folded the laundry and watched us destroy her precious time in the swift motion of grabbing a shirt at the bottom of a neatly folded stack of clothes! I suppose the saying is true... “what goes around comes around”!
Wednesday 20 January 2010
Journey to the Center of London
Before I could make my trek across the pond I had one minor thing I had to sort out... my passport. Not even a month before I was supposed to come home for the holidays my wallet was stolen, which stupidly contained my passport. After having to make a trip into London all alone, I learned my lesson. Don’t carry your passport in your wallet, don’t go to the only sketchy club in Poole, The Penthouse, and maybe don’t get your fun meter stuck on high with the entire club to see.
So about two weeks after all the contents of my wallet, except a beautiful picture of my mom and dad and a camera memory stick (a thief with a heart) and a trip into London to replace my passport, the embassy called to tell me all the contents, down to plane ticket stubs and old Publix receipts was sent to the embassy by a sanitary waste company nowhere near Poole. Now to the bad news, since this package contained all my personal cards, ID, and old passport it and my new passport could not be mailed to me. That meant another trip to London Town. I could have peed my pants in fear of trying to tackle the underground alone, again!
I figured I had plenty of time to prepare myself for my next adventure, since we had planned on leaving the UK after Christmas. This of course is until Andy tells me I will be going home asap. It was Sunday when Duncan, Andy’s brother who gets us standby tickets, informs him the only flight I could get before the 31st was that Monday! This meant in the morning I would need to make my trip into London and try to catch the flight after picking up my passport at the Embassy. I think I had a mini heart attack. What about my luggage, the tube at rush hour, and how on earth do I get to Gatwick from the center of London!?! Well there was no time to answer these extremely important questions or even curl up and cry, just time to pack!
So on Monday morning at 6am I got on the train to London with a 50 pound suitcase in the hopes that Andy would be able to get me the ticket home and that I can make it to Gatwick before the plane took off at 2pm! The fun began with trying to weasel my way off the train at Waterloo to catch the tube onto the Jubilee line, all while lugging this huge suitcase. Then I had to transfer from Jubilee to Central line and I think the most packed and busiest line of all the tube. I was like the little invisible girl no one wanted to look at in fear they might have to help! People did anything they could to push past me and my enormous bag and beat me on the train. It was as if my big huge bag had some kind of virus they might catch. Note to anyone travelling on the tube during rush hour; don’t take any large item with you because you will be shunned! Once I finally got through the train ride it was on to climbing a few flights of stairs while dragging my embarrassingly large bag with me. What a workout and relief when I finally made it to the streets of London.
I don’t usually get embarrassed too easily but when you are walking around the business district with a hand drawn map in one hand and a 50 lb paisley and flower print bag rolling behind you it’s another story. It was such a relief when I reached the embassy until I saw the 100 person line waiting to go in! All I could think is, “I will never make the plane”! It was already 9:15!! But I put on my brave face and got into line only to be told by another line stander the embassy won’t let you take any luggage inside. WHAT!?! So I got out of line walked down to a small and, quite frankly, scary little pharmacy, where according to the barley English speaking line stander, they would hold my luggage. Sure enough they had a little TV stand set up where there was a paper, telling of pharmaceutical things. When the paper was flipped over there were the conditions and fees to hold items for embassy visitors. I suspect this was all done illegally but I had no time to waste, so I left them with all my belongings for a grand total of 3 pounds!
Back at the embassy I learned I was standing in the wrong line, which is why it was so long! I was in the non-American line which was 99 people longer than the American line. I soon also discovered Americans, coming to pick up their passports, can take their luggage with them inside!!! After picking up my new passport, old passport, and cancelled credit cards I was ready to get my bag and race to Gatwick and somehow catch my flight! All this was shattered when I called Andy to report I had gotten the new passport and was on my way when he said he and Duncan were unable to get the flight. They instead got one for the next day!!
So about two weeks after all the contents of my wallet, except a beautiful picture of my mom and dad and a camera memory stick (a thief with a heart) and a trip into London to replace my passport, the embassy called to tell me all the contents, down to plane ticket stubs and old Publix receipts was sent to the embassy by a sanitary waste company nowhere near Poole. Now to the bad news, since this package contained all my personal cards, ID, and old passport it and my new passport could not be mailed to me. That meant another trip to London Town. I could have peed my pants in fear of trying to tackle the underground alone, again!
I figured I had plenty of time to prepare myself for my next adventure, since we had planned on leaving the UK after Christmas. This of course is until Andy tells me I will be going home asap. It was Sunday when Duncan, Andy’s brother who gets us standby tickets, informs him the only flight I could get before the 31st was that Monday! This meant in the morning I would need to make my trip into London and try to catch the flight after picking up my passport at the Embassy. I think I had a mini heart attack. What about my luggage, the tube at rush hour, and how on earth do I get to Gatwick from the center of London!?! Well there was no time to answer these extremely important questions or even curl up and cry, just time to pack!
So on Monday morning at 6am I got on the train to London with a 50 pound suitcase in the hopes that Andy would be able to get me the ticket home and that I can make it to Gatwick before the plane took off at 2pm! The fun began with trying to weasel my way off the train at Waterloo to catch the tube onto the Jubilee line, all while lugging this huge suitcase. Then I had to transfer from Jubilee to Central line and I think the most packed and busiest line of all the tube. I was like the little invisible girl no one wanted to look at in fear they might have to help! People did anything they could to push past me and my enormous bag and beat me on the train. It was as if my big huge bag had some kind of virus they might catch. Note to anyone travelling on the tube during rush hour; don’t take any large item with you because you will be shunned! Once I finally got through the train ride it was on to climbing a few flights of stairs while dragging my embarrassingly large bag with me. What a workout and relief when I finally made it to the streets of London.
I don’t usually get embarrassed too easily but when you are walking around the business district with a hand drawn map in one hand and a 50 lb paisley and flower print bag rolling behind you it’s another story. It was such a relief when I reached the embassy until I saw the 100 person line waiting to go in! All I could think is, “I will never make the plane”! It was already 9:15!! But I put on my brave face and got into line only to be told by another line stander the embassy won’t let you take any luggage inside. WHAT!?! So I got out of line walked down to a small and, quite frankly, scary little pharmacy, where according to the barley English speaking line stander, they would hold my luggage. Sure enough they had a little TV stand set up where there was a paper, telling of pharmaceutical things. When the paper was flipped over there were the conditions and fees to hold items for embassy visitors. I suspect this was all done illegally but I had no time to waste, so I left them with all my belongings for a grand total of 3 pounds!
Back at the embassy I learned I was standing in the wrong line, which is why it was so long! I was in the non-American line which was 99 people longer than the American line. I soon also discovered Americans, coming to pick up their passports, can take their luggage with them inside!!! After picking up my new passport, old passport, and cancelled credit cards I was ready to get my bag and race to Gatwick and somehow catch my flight! All this was shattered when I called Andy to report I had gotten the new passport and was on my way when he said he and Duncan were unable to get the flight. They instead got one for the next day!!
Monday 18 January 2010
Radiator Rules
While back in sunny Florida for the holidays I was rudely welcomed with extremely cold weather. Instead of being able to wear little shorts, shoes that let my feet breathe, and tiny t-shirts I was forced to wear all the same sweaters and jeans I have been bundled up in the UK. This brings me to my latest laundry disaster...
As I put on my favorite thick, long, brown, cardigan I noticed something on the sleeve. It was hard white and glued onto the sleeve. So I took it to my mom, crowned the laundry queen after years of experience, and showed her this hard “spot” which I have gotten on so many of my clothes. I proceeded to tell her what it was...
Every time I hang my clothes on the radiator to dry, soap get stuck on them! I have told Andy we NEED to buy a new brand of soap because it doesn’t wash all the way out. So many of my shirts, sweaters, and pants have this white, hard, “soap” stuck on them. I can’t seem to wash it off or pick it off or scratch it off. It is just glued on my clothes. It is as if the soap dries like super glue on my clothes! Andy, knowing my laundry past, has paid no attention to my need of new laundry detergent, more so one that will wash out and stop sticking to my favourite pants, sweaters, and tops!
As I am telling my mom my detergent problems she is just staring at me in amazement. She asks, “Is the radiator on when you are hanging your clothes on it?” to which I respond, “DUH of course!! One, it dries them faster and two, it is too cold to not have the heat on!” Then laughing she tells me to check my label ... I tell her it is part cotton, part cashmere, and part spandex... Then the light clicked on...My clothes are not soapy they are melting!! The spandex in the clothes melts on the hot metal radiator!! Who would have ever thought clothes could melt!?!?! And that the radiator gets that hot!! Since growing up in a climate that has a range of season of hot and very hot, I have never known the rules of the radiator!
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