HOME TOMORROW.

But somehow it doesn't feel like my last day in London.  Maybe because I'm not packed.  At all.  Currently investigating all methods of procrastination (posting pictures on Facebook, writing in this blog, gonna go make some food, then take a bath, etc etc).  I think it's gonna be a late night.

I AM HOME.

I love America.  I love Americans.  I love American accents.  I love the right side of the road.  I love American electrical sockets.  I love Eastern Standard Time. I love peaceful neighbors.  I love the smell of my house. I love my puppy.  And my family.  And NCIS marathons.

A small update.

Remember when you were a kid and you were like, when I grow up, I'm gonna have cookies for dinner.  Welp. I'm having cookies for dinner.  Being an adult might not be such a bad thing after all.


I have lots of British and life events (first time being a golf caddy, first time turning 23, etc) to comment on, but work has been busy (our final deadline is two days before I go home) and I have 2 and a half hours to complete

PRECEPTORSHIP REPORT NUMBER ONE (or TWO as the case may be).

(It's number two as the case may be.)

So unfortunately, I must stop procrastinating.  And do that.  After I get another cookie.  Just wanted to let you all know I am alive and very eagerly looking forward to my return to America in just 8 days.

Thanksgiving in review.

Early last week, British Will, Thomas (fellow intern, also British) and I had very little work to do, so they were at my desk and we were just browsing the internet (boss people were away at a meeting).  I came to an article about the turkey pardoning tradition in America (the names of the turkeys this year were Liberty and Peace…what creative school children picked those out?  They really dropped the ball.  Naming turkeys could be a lot of fun.  Mr. Big Stuff?  Giblets is kind of cute.  Erin Marie isn’t bad either.)  Thomas said, “So Claire, what is Thanksgiving all about?”  He wasn’t even trying to be funny—he was actually asking in earnest.  As I explained the story of the Pilgrims and Squanto and the first Thanksgiving feast, I half expected kindergarten children to emerge at any time, wearing construction paper feathers and those pillow case tunics with beads on the ends.  After the story, Thomas asked, “So, the Pilgrims...is that, like, Thomas Jefferson and all them?” ………….Really, Thomas?  British people must have just blocked that entire period of history from their memory.  I explained to Thomas that his people persecuted the Pilgrims, so they went to America to set up a shining city upon a hill and America has been better than Britain ever since.

Thanksgiving Day turned out pretty well.  We had office ice-skating at the Somerset House after work.  It was very pretty and lots of fun.  The architects-on-skates concept is pretty hilarious. 

Earlier that day at work, Nicolas (guy from Cyprus who sits across from me.  He is a great big teddy bear) sent me an email to invite me to a Thanksgiving dinner that these American people were putting on.  It sounded like a nice meet-and-greet of Americans in London and it was close to where I live, so I said I’d go.  It turned out to be a group of about seven American friends celebrating Thanksgiving together and they were pretty surprised to see us there.  (It turns out that Nicolas peripherally knew only one of the girls—luckily she was the host).  When we walked in the door, they all just stared.  All the girls were wearing cute little holiday dresses (they had clearly been planning this for a while) and there I was in my jeans, pilly brown sweater, and smelly ice skating socks.  Nicolas whispered to me, “It’s been a while since I’ve crashed a party like this.”  I was like, “I’ve never done this before.”  But after the initial awkwardness, it was fine.  They were a pretty yuppie group. At one point in the dinner, they were all talking about retirement funds and pension plans and investing their money, and I thought to myself, “Who are these people?”  And then I remembered that I had no idea who they were, because I was at a Thanksgiving dinner I wasn’t invited to, hosted by people I’d never met.  But the food was great, the wine was wine, and there was pie for dessert, so I enjoyed it. 

When I got home, I skyped in to Massachusetts family Thanksgiving.  They hooked the computer up to the TV so I was on the big screen.  It was definitely one of the best skype dates I’ve ever had.  I took them all on the tour of my apartment, and Ashley said it sounded like a ton of people on a roller coaster.  Before we ended the call, all the cousins gathered around the TV for a picture.  I haven’t seen it yet, but apparently it looks like I’m actually there with the group—I just have a gigantic head and shoulders.

UK Thanksgiving turned out better than I expected it to be, but it still can’t compare to Thanksgiving at home.  I’ll be back next year!

We like wine.

I’m sure the three of you that know of this blog deeply felt my absence yesterday.  I did not post because Ashley and I were experimenting with our new wine glasses.  Goblet is actually probably a more appropriate term.  The other day we went to this little second hand shop that had a crazy sale—everything was A POUND.  It was a bit of a free-for-all, everyone just grabbing stuff.  We ended up with a little set of cups and saucers, six commemorative Spode Christmas plates from the late ‘70s/early ‘80s (everyone else in the shop was visibly disappointed when we snatched these up—and who wouldn’t be?), and, of course, these two goblets.  It occurred to Ashley last night that perhaps the goblets are meant to be decorative and maybe hold candles inside.  All I had really thought about them was, “I wonder how much wine would fit in those.”  Fortunately for me today (though unfortunately for the pursuit of science), we did not test the full limits of the goblets (the question remains if an entire bottle fits in one glass).  But as soon as we find out, I will certainly report back.

So, with our goblets, we decided to celebrate America.  We had a friend over (we have a friend!)—his name is August and he works with Ashley.  He is also American (so many A’s) and thus was not averse to participating in the celebration.  We drank wine (Ashley and I from our goblets, August from a clean spaghetti sauce jar) and ordered Pizza Hut.  It was very nice.  Ashley and I each ate six slices.  America!

Inevitably though, this led to me waking up late this morning, getting in the tub 3 minutes before my usual get-out-of-the-tub time (8:22—this just seems to happen, I don’t plan it), not packing a lunch, being a general crazy trying to get out the door, running down the street, tripping, my shoe falling off, etc.  But, as my first bit of luck for the day, the overground was also running late (did the conductor have America Night too??) so I made the train.  And, as my second bit of luck, our design team went out for Thai food for lunch, so it was a good day not to pack my own.