Introducing...MY NEXT BLOG!

I can't believe it's time to retire London Footnotes. Honestly, I feel like I just started it. But here we are: life, racing forward at full throttle.

And so we enter the next phase: The Great American Road Trip! Please join my travels on the blog specifically created for the next few months on the road: Moonpies and Cherry Slurpies. I thought the best possible name for my blog would be one composed of my diet for the next three months, and also the very things that make America grand: chocolate-covered, marshmallow-stuffed cookies, and cherry-flavored iced carbonated beverages. Please forgive me in advance for spelling slurpee wrong, but I like to think that just adds to the blog's charm. Plus, you know, now 7-Eleven can't sue me for making fun of one of the world's most awful drinks for three months straight. And by 'awful,' I mean, 'truly, truly awful.' (Moonpies, on the other hand, are untouchable.)

Please join me on my next great adventure!

Hugs,
Sharona

on throat coat, cornwall, and cough syrup

Right now the dishwasher is humming and the kettle is whispering and the soup is gurgling. These sounds are my company today, and they're keeping me warm.

The Cornwall pictures are coming along...I'm about a third of the way through, which feels really nice. But then, everything feels nice today. I don't know if it's because I'm doped up on enough cold medicine to tranquilize a horse, or because I've had so much Throat Coat tea that hallucinatory effects are taking place, or if it's just the general sense of well-being that comes from making soup and cookies from scratch and having them both cooking away at the same time, but either way...everything is so...nice right now. Except for that burning smell...hold on while I leave my stupor to check on those cookies...ahhhh. Done. They look so nice.

For some strange, inexplicable reason, I just took some time out to do a photo shoot with my tea box. Because, you know, I don't have loads of other stuff I could be working on. But it beckoned, and I think it wanted the glory of being the single item that's soothing my throat right now:

But I'm not gonna lie: it tastes like *ss. (Mom, I put that asterisk in there for you. Because really, it tastes like ASS, but I didn't want to offend you. I love you.) I don't what the heck this slippery elm talk is all about, but I can tell you, the flavor doesn't seem far from licking a tree. But man...my throat is coated and feels so much better than it did this morning. It's so nice.

I was going to put a couple of Cornwall pics in here, but my blog seems to have taken a different direction ever since the tea got demanding. In fact, I'm not really sure where I'm at right now.

Ah. Cornwall pics. That's right. Here are just a few of the zillion I'm working through (and by 'working,' I mean, 'zoning'):

Can you imagine how it would feel to live in that tiny little hamlet across from the water? One word comes to mind.

Yeah, I KNOW.

Every night, a sunset to knock your socks off. It didn't matter how foggy and cool the morning was--by noon, the sun was bright and crisp, and by dusk, everything glowed.

This fisherman reminded me of Elton John the second I saw him. I couldn't begin to tell you why. The hair? The glasses? The coveralls? The fact that he had a piano in the back of his boat? Perhaps we'll never know.

Alright, I gotta go. This tea is trying to kill me now. I can't wait to see you tomorrow.

More photos of the Fringe!

Now that I have blown my entire morning watching Google is My Roommate, videos of my friend's freaking adorable babies, and looking up curried egg salad recipes (I still haven't found one I'm wholly pleased with, so please let me know if you've got a good one!), I figured, 'I should do a blog post!' Because seriously, I can spend my life Meandering About the Information Superhighway and wind up hours later with nothing to show for it but a back-ache and a sense of disorientation.

Tonight I am determined to make a quiche, if for no other reason than the fact that one, I impulse-bought a quiche dish last week and am determined to use it, and two, I have loads of random food bits (one zucchini, a handful of mushrooms, a spare tomato) that need to be eaten, and what better way to do it than a quiche? One could also argue for an Everything Pizza, but since I did that last week...

But before I leave you to start whipping some eggs, I will subject you to more photos of the Edinburgh Fringe Festival, where I spent the entire time missing my brilliant college roommate Leslie, now a successful stand-up comedienne in New York City, and wishing she were there, even though she's currently busy rocking the New York Fringe.

Wait, wait...Forgive me while I take a minute to upload the photos...I'm going to see if there's a way to upload them through picasaweb versus my desktop picasa, which only lets me do four at a go--infinitely frustrating when you're one, impatient, and two, ready to force forty pictures down a reader's throat.

hmmmm...methinks there is no shortcut. Blast. Here we go, then...slowly but surely! (This reminds me...once, when I was a (too tall for my age) teenager, I poked fun of my mother Shirley's tiny stature but remarking 'Slowly but Shirley!' whenever we walked anywhere. I don't think she appreciated it. I was some pretty funny stuff in those days. I also found great humor in telling her I was pregnant on a regular basis, just to see how she'd respond...which is actually a joke I still enjoy to this day, though she's getting wise to it and no longer takes my complaints of nausea and bloating seriously. Someday, when I AM in my first trimester, she's gonna regret that.)

I digress.

This is a photo I like to call 'Still Life with Fruit.' (The above, not the below.)

The Fringe was full of spontaneous (or perhaps scheduled, I'm pretty ignorant here) street performances. This guy and his brother had a humorous, highly-dramatized circus act going, which drew a large crowd...

I love it that these shops are next door to each other.

'Self-portrait.'

Some people took advantage of Edinburgh's influx of people to host mini flea markets...all the pottery you can carry for five pounds! (I'm exaggerating here, otherwise I would've come home with an insane number of ceramic jugs. I can't resist a useless bargain.)

Edinburgh is FULL of these little charming side streets.

One of the comedy venues...

And another one...

There was also the fantabulous Edinburgh International Book Festival going on at Charlotte Square! I know what you're thinking: did my head explode with all of the irresistible choices?? Yes. Yes, it did.

And there were BOOK signings! I don't know who this particular author is, but apparently he appeals to chicks and the occasional gay man (who you can see when you enlarge this photo).

I don't know who this guy is, either, but judging by his look, I would say he's definitely an author of some sort. And since I couldn't find Bill Bryson, he had to do. If you recognize him from any of your book jackets, do let me know so I have a sense of satisfaction having caught him in the wild.

A lovely couple, no doubt on their way to a reading or an art gallery.

And one of the many gorgeous Edinburgh skylines.

And me! Please note my super rad super new silver puffy O'Neill's vest. It IS reversable for a more 'normal' look, though I figured at a comedy festival, that'd be a waste. You will note it bulging open in an attractive fashion. Please tell my mother it's because I am obviously with child.

Southend-on-Sea has an identity crisis.

Southend-on-Sea's main strip is slightly confused. Town motto? 'We can do it all.'

The London Zoo

And because I am so in the blog zone it is SICK (cue my third cup of coffee), here are some London Zoo pictures!

Now before I get started, let me throw in a disclaimer: I typically don't like zoos. Not because of 'the inhumane treatment of animals' or anything remotely honorable like that, but because they're just so effing BORING. You walk to a fence. You stare at a lion lying apathetic and innert in the sun. This is entertaining for approximately...one and a half seconds. You try to make eye contact, in the hopes that if he sees you and your happy, beaming face, he will become enthralled and do something thrilling, like stand up, but he doesn't, and so you move on to the next enclosure. You briefly skim the description printed on the wooden podium of the exhibited animal: 'The okapi, or Okapia johnstoni, comes from central Africa...' and rapidly zone out. Turning your gaze to the fabricated central African zone before you (consisting of a lot of dirt and a single tree), you strain to find this exotic beast. He is nowhere to be found. Perhaps it is feeding time in that dank, smelly warehouse located at the rear of the African plain. And so it goes: hours of trodding, squinting, waving, yelling, and moving on. Honestly, if I want to see loads of sleeping and pacing animals, I'll just go back to my desk job, where at least they occasionally get feisty after lunch.

But THIS zoo, far from being dull as dirt, was as wildly entertaining as the Cirque du Soleil.* Not because of its miniscule size (which was nice), nor because of its fabulous location at the top of Regent Park (which was nice), but mostly because of the fact that the animals were just plain SASSY. All three of them. Check out the way they posed for my camera:

This is one I like to call 'Another Day in the Jail Yard.' You can tell he's torn between the mess hall and the weight room, and wishes someone would start a pick-up game of baseball:

This was taken in the Butterfly Sanctuary. Initially you would think (as I did), 'A butterfly sanctuary! How charming! A hot and steamy little rainforest with hundreds of butterflies fluttering around you!' But then you go in and find yourself sweating and surrounding by all of these darting, flying creatures, who were doing their best summertime-moth impressions, and it was actually a bit alarming. All of the swooping and diving around your face is far from relaxing or magical, and you find yourself--as you instinctively duck and jerk back--wishing for a flyswatter. Needless to say, I loved it.

And last, but not least, we have this guy, who I think by his expression needs no introduction:

And the one who stole the show:
This cat, while perhaps not a 'technical' zoo animal, was prowling the enclosure of the above bird. He stalked about the tall grass, eyeing his prey, and totally plotting a coup. He was by far my favorite exhibit of the entire day. One, it was the first time I saw an animal doing anything that was remotely natural, and two, you've got to respect a domestic housecat playing predator to such a wildly exotic and possibly aggressive bird. I couldn't help but secretly hope for some kind of live discovery channel action but alas, the wire mesh proved too much of a barrier, not to mention the bell around his neck (obviously his owner knows how he spends his days), so he could only lurk about threateningly, ruffling the bird's feathers.

And so concludes my tour! I would follow up with a recommendation, except, well...you've kinda seen it all right here.

*I'm lying to you. There is nothing in the world more entertaining than a show that ties midgets to giant balloons and sends them afloat.

I think that I shall never see / a poem lovely as a tree

One of the things that struck me most in Greece were the olive trees. Notably, their color. They're silver. I know what you’re thinking: ‘No effing way.’ Or maybe, because you don’t really care about trees, you’re thinking, ‘That’s probably the ouzo talking.’ But SERIOUSLY. I can’t make this stuff up. I’m not Garcia-Marquez. Take THIS, for example:

Look at the tree on the left. All nice and yellow and sunset-y. Look at the tree in the middle, happy and gay and green. Now look at the one on the right. Holy. Crazy. SILVER TREE. This is the olive. It’s un-buh-leevuble. You should see a whole grove of them. It’s pretty much the most unphotogenic thing in the world, or I’d post a photo of one here. Aw, heck. I will anyway. Just so you know, this is NOT under-exposed. I took about a kazillion of these photos trying to find one that worked (less sky! more grass! less grass! more leaves! more sky!), but apparently trying to make a grove of olive trees look good is like trying to put a leprechaun in your pocket. Something else I've tried on a number of occasions.

Check out this netting. Apparently when the olives are in season, they just roll the nets out to cover the ground and catch them. And when olives aren't in season, they roll them up like you see above (and below).

I liked the mystical look of all these black shrouds draping down the mountainside. The gravelike aura they gave was wonderfully spooky. It also made me glad that I had a leprechaun in my pocket.

'Boats on Water,' or 'My Recent Trip to Greece.'

I was originally going set up an online photo album of the recent shots I took in Greece* and just provide a link to it, but then I realized that I am TERRIBLE at looking at other people's online photo albums, no matter how matter how much I want to see pictures from their vacations to Egypt**, so why should I expect you to go to the effort to look through mine? So instead I will FORCE you to look at them by posting some of the shots right HERE:

The first couple of days there were stormy, which was great for two reasons: one, it made the sky so much more dynamic than a sunny day can ever do, and two, it made me nostalgic for my childhood spent in the heart of tornado alley, Oklahoma. I didn't realize how much I missed the wall-shaking rumbles and room-lighting flashes and the black-and-orange sky of a good, honest springtime tempest until our mountaintop villa started shaking during dinner on our second night. I've got to start planning my vacations back home better. If I don't sprint through hail on the way to a tornado cellar at least once on my next family visit, then I haven't planned properly.

'Boat on water.'

'Men playing cards.'

Seeing these two playing cards in the middle of the day, in the middle of the week, in a taverna on the water, made me realize that somewhere along the career path, I made a wrong turn.

'Another Boat on Water.'

I know what you're thinking: 'Did you photoshop that boat into the photo?' No. No, I did not. But I DID make it appear using the power of my mind, so I still cheated.

*Sidebar: I recently had the pleasure of spending ten days in Corfu and got back a week ago. It was rad. I am now dog-sitting in Kensington, which I dare say is as much a leap in lifestyle as Greece was. I would post photos from this, too, except I'm spending most of my time at Whole Foods.

**I'm actually lying. I don't at ALL want to see your vacation photos of Egypt. But your wedding album, now THAT would be a treat.

A breakfast cereal tutorial

Would you like some cereal?
Yes, please!
* clunk *
What is that?
Cereal! Do they not have this where you come from?*

Introducing Weetabix. According to their website, they are 'the UK's favourite breakfast.' I am here to give you a Weetabix tutorial.

When you first open the Weetabix box, you will find these bricks (for lack of a better word). You do not pour Weetabix into a bowl. You pick out a brick, and put THAT in your bowl.

Then, if you are six years old (or me), you put a bit of sugar on top. And by a 'bit,' I mean, 'a lot.'

Then you pour in the milk.

Now here is where it gets exciting. In the length of time it takes you to put the milk back away, your Weetabix is softening. Take this opportunity to break it apart with your spoon.

Then mush it around using the bottom of your spoon. This is just for fun, really. This is also where your mother would tell you to 'quit playing with your food.' Once you've really worked it into a good pile of sludge, it is ready to eat!**

Weetabix: the Wholegrain Cereal. It's like a party in your bowl.

*According to the Weetabix website, Weetabix entered the US market in 1968. It doesn't mention when it left.
**You will be surprised at how tasty it is, for a food resembling something you'd feed your cat.

Northern England Reveals Its Charms

Jane Austen lived here.*

In her letters, she referred to her estate as 'Hot Toddy Hall.' She did this in an attempt to protect her privacy as well as to offer her correspondents a revealing glimpse into her personal life.**

This was Jane's local church. She rarely set foot inside, as she was usually nursing her hangover from Saturday night's festivities in Hot Toddy Hall.***

This was Jane's local butcher and deli. She loved their duck liver pate and could often be heard on the children's swings after dark, whooping into the wee hours.****

And so concludes my tour of Northern England. Please let me know if you are interested in any more of my tours; there are many neighborhoods in London I would love to walk you through.

*I'm making this up. I really have no idea where Jane Austen lived.
**This is also not true.
***This is probably true.
****'Whooping' is not a metaphor.