Random Thoughts About Food and Bank Cards

The Tesco where we shop is notorious for not having fully stocked shelves. In fact, it seems like the store is 1/3 empty all the time, especially the fresh produce.  There were no potatoes in the store tonight, as they were on sale for 65 pence a bag and promptly sold out. If I want a potato soon, I guess I'll have to go to Ireland. Tesco could make so much more money if they just kept up with their ordering! 

Also, they're notorious for only selling the smallest sized packages of everything. I remember grocery shopping with my mom when I was young.  Sometimes I would pick up a tiny jar of pickles and say, "Look Mom!  These are the pickles I'm going to buy when I go to college."  And she would say, "Stop it!  I don't want to think about you going to college." Tesco is just a larger scale version of shelves full of "college pickles" and such, except we all know that pickles aren't pickles here.  Anyway, interestingly enough, the only table salt I could find was a HUGE bottle that should hopefully last us the rest of our time in England.  The chocolate chips, however, were only sold in bags that held about 1/2 cup of miniature chocolate chips.  I'm talking Chips Ahoy kinds of chocolate chips.  They have these things called "chocolate buttons," but they're quite large.  Where can I get medium sized chocolate chips, preferably Ghiradelli milk chocolate chips? Do I hear "care package," anyone?

As the England=Red Tape saga continues, we STILL do not have functioning bank cards here.  It turns out that they didn't know we actually wanted any when we opened an account (!).  When we went in to inquire after them, they ordered them and sent them to our American address (!!).  When we checked up on them a couple weeks after that, they told them that they couldn't be mailed to our address here but we could pick them up (!!!).  When Nathan went to pick them up, they wouldn't give him mine, even though it's a joint account (!!!!).  When we tried to use it at Tesco tonight, Nathan realized that they didn't give him a PIN number to use with it (!!!!!).  Because I pass right by the bank before it opens on my way to work and pass by it again after it's closed, I'll have to wait until Saturday to get mine (!!!!!!).

Fall Colors

You can't see Nathan's face very well, but that's not the point.  The gorgeous fall dusk sky is the point.

I feel like I live in a storybook sometimes, especially when the lighting is just right.  This picture does this view no justice.

I saw the leaves changing into brilliant fall colors on my way to work this morning.  Walking 45 minutes each way has its advantages I guess.

Ranunculus Bouquets

I have to give credit to The Bride's Cafe for always giving my spirits a little lift on overcast days.  I rode the bus to work for the first time yesterday because of the nasty weather.  I'm already dreading the winter.  For today though, I'm enjoying some magical late afternoon sun that I hope sticks around for my walk home now.

Someone Has a New "Quite Like"

When Nathan and I were engaged and talking on the phone on average 20 hours a week, one of the conversations we had was about how we couldn't wait to be together to do normal, everyday activities like grocery shopping.  We've only actually gone grocery shopping together maybe half a dozen times since we've been married, because he drives me bananas in the store and we start slipping into a dysfunctional parent-child dynamic rather than a healthy married couple one.  


First of all, he has no respect for my system.  I type this with a smirk on my face, because I'm sure after I tell what's next, I'll seem like the mental one.  Anyway, I have a pattern when I go through the grocery store, and I start with the bread and drinks aisle, weave my way up and down to the produce section, stop by the deli, pick up the meat, get my dairy products on the back wall, and finish in frozen foods.  I also put my items in the basket a certain way so I can put it on the conveyor belt a certain way so I can have it bagged a certain way (frozen foods together, bread and eggs last, etc.).  It makes perfect sense, right?  Right?  RIGHT?!


Him: "Ooh.  We need peanut butter." He plops a jar on top of the bread.  
Me: "No we don't.  We actually have two more jars in the cupboard." I put the jar back and fluff up the bread, checking for injuries.
Him: "Ooh!  Did I tell you that bean with bacon soup is my favorite? I haven't had it in so long!"
Me: "Yes. You did tell me that."
Him: "Why are you buying so many boxes of Triscuits?"
Me: "Because they're buy one get one free, and we go through at least two boxes a week with your hand constantly in the Triscuit jar."
Him: "I have to go to the bathroom."
Me: "Okay. I estimate that I'll be picking up some cheese by the time you're through."


And then he disappears for 30 minutes... until I find him sheepishly hiding behind some car magazines.


All that to say, we went grocery shopping together in the mini Tesco, and when I was asking an employee where the popcorn was hidden, he snuck in a jar of English mustard (we have another one half full) that will make your nostrils burn it's so hot as well as a package of crumpets.  Crumpets are just English muffins, but they're twice as thick and don't fit well in the toaster. It was a total impulse buy, but he had to have it because it was mentioned in the movie Dumb and Dumber.  


"If I know Mary, she'll invite us right in for some tea and strumpets." - Lloyd Christmas  


"Strumpets" was supposed to be "crumpets," but "strumpets" actually means "prostitute" in England.

Sigh.  Those of you who know my husband know that his four food groups of choice are butter, mayonnaise, gravy, and salt.  Read the caption...  Dreams really do come true.  

The Geordie Accent

One of the coolest things about my new (temporary) job is that the people I work with are so, so nice and friendly.  I made an apple crumble with those apples from Crook Hall and brought it in on my second day.  The porters (Porters are like the college handymen.) especially gobbled it up, calling it "spot on" and "gorgeous."   Most of them are native to Northeast England, so they have Geordie accents.  I personally love the lilting sound of it (it reminds me of the Scots, but don't tell them I said that), but many other folks in England turn up their noses as it, calling it "improper English."  I think it's because they can't understand it half the time.  When the Geordies speak to me, I can understand about 80% and put the rest together based on context clues.  When they speak to each other, I can only understand about 20% and usually don't bother trying to figure it out.  


Take some time to listen to a sample of some Geordie gorgeousness HERE.  Click play and wait a few seconds for the man's voice to start.


One of the porters brought me some more apples from his apple tree as well as this humongous courgette the size of a baby from his garden, which I figured out was a zucchini.  When he asked me if I wanted some the previous day, I think I was smiling and nodding without really understanding what I was getting into.  But isn't it GORGEOUS?  I'm going to stir fry it up tonight!

Quite Like, Rather Dislike: Round 5

Quite Like: The Hot Water Bottle

When Hannah first told me about this, I was a little skeptical.  A plastic bottle filled with hot water to sleep with?  It sounds like something I would have if I was camping in sub-zero temperatures.  People, this is the best marriage saver since the GPS.  It's amazing.  This one came with a fur lining to prevent burns, but I don't use it because it keeps some of the heat from getting onto my toesies.  This little love is going to get me through many, many cold nights.  Nathan prepares it for me before bed while I brush my teeth.  He still doesn't know how to make my tea properly (1/2 a teaspoon of Splenda, splash of milk, tea bag out before serving), but he does a bang up job getting this baby ready for me.  He's officially been relieved of his warming-my-icy-feet-at-night duties, and he couldn't be happier.

Quite Dislike: No garlic in a jar (and other such conveniences)

I spend so much more time now doing food preparation than I used to.  Peeling and mincing garlic is one of my least favorite new activities.  I used to by the monster jar of the stuff and just get a spoonful out any time I wanted to jazz up a meal.  Yeah.  They don't have that here.

I made my neighbor Katie's onion casserole when we first moved into our new house because I found all of the ingredients on my first trip to the store alone: onions (they were the size of golf balls, but an onion is an onion), bacon (good stuff), Parmesan cheese (which I had to grate because the prepackaged stuff was expensive and looked old), and Ritz crackers (just haphazardly thrown in a small box, not in sleeves).  I originally planned to make this as an appetizer, but I quickly decided to make it the main meal because it took so long to make!  Basically you just layer sautéed onions, chopped cooked bacon, cheese, and crushed crackers to your liking and then bake it at 350 until it's heated through.  It's easy peasy and really fast in an American kitchen.  

Not in my old barn kitchen.  First of all, I had very little counter space.  Like maybe three square feet.  Second of all, I had one frying pan.  Third of all, the golf ball onions took forever to chop.  I think I did about 20.  Fourth of all, there wasn't enough room in the pan for all of them at once, so I had to cook them in three batches.  Fifth of all, I only had one mixing bowl to keep the cooked onions in, which took up half the counter space.  Sixth of all, I had only one decently sized cutting board, so I had to rotate using it for chopping onions, slicing bacon, and grating cheese, washing it between each use.  Seventh of all, there wasn't enough room on the counter for me to keep the chopped onions and grate the cheese and slice the bacon simultaneously, so I balanced the cutting board over the sink.  Eighth of all, the bacon took two turns in the pan.  Ninth of all, I feel like I made the recipe three times instead of just once.  Tenth of all, after almost two hours of work, it was tasty anyway.

I'm hoping I don't have to prepare a Thanksgiving meal in there anytime soon, but if I do, it'll be turkey soup in the crock pot.  I sure as heck won't be making an onion casserole.  On the plus side, such obstacles are bringing forth some ingenuity I didn't know I had. Necessity is the mother of invention.  Is that how the saying goes?  

Quite Like, Rather Dislike: Round 4

Quite Like: Squash

This was another "we're the people now" purchase.  It's concentrated juice in a bottle.  One should splash a little splash at the bottom of a glass and fill the rest with water.  It's tasty.  I'd like mine with crushed ice and a straw, but I haven't seen ice or a straw since I moved to this country.

Rather Dislike: Inefficient appliances.  Okay, I'm not too too bothered by this anymore.  I think I've become more indifferent with the passage of time and the installation of my airer.  The washer/dryer combination is located in the kitchen, and it is very, very small.  It holds about a third of the clothes I could put in my washer in Atlanta.  The dryer function doesn't really work at all.  The first time I used it the new white towels came out damp with dark gunky lint, even after 100 minutes drying.  I've taken to either line drying the clothes, putting them on the indoor drying racks, or draping them across the boilers to dry.

The vacuum is currently held together by a piece of brown packaging tape, and it sucks.  And by "sucks" I mean it doesn't suck anything bigger than the sand that falls off the stone walls every day. 

The dishwasher... well, that's another post. 

Quite Like, Rather Dislike: Round 3

Quite Like: Digestive Biscuits

Our first big shopping trip to the big Tesco included buying a lot of the same groceries that Sam and Emily did. Nathan always said, "But Sam and Emily have this/it/them, and they're 'the people,' so we should get it too." Now that we are "the people," we bought some digestive biscuits to serve with our tea. We keep them in a tin, like "the people" do. The kind we like is just shortbread cookies with one half of them dipped in chocolate, as pictured above. It looks like there are two kinds in there, but they're really two sides of the same coin. Anyway, the variety of digestives on the market is endless. They take up almost an entire row in the Tesco in town. There's no chicken broth, but there's an entire row of cookies whose sole purpose is to aid digestion when drinking afternoon tea.

Rather Dislike: Sandwiches. The English do sandwiches very, very differently than the good ol' USA.  I'm not really sure how they're done here, but I've seen, on more than one occasion, people butter their bread (sometimes on both sides) before putting ham and marmite on it. They will even put different kinds of cheese on it, but not in slices like we think of. They're just slivered off of a huge hunk (if it's hard) or smooshed on there (if it's soft). When I want a sandwich, I want one like this.

By the way, the receptionist job is going well with such friendly people to work with. It's been a lesson in British bureaucracy from the inside. I'll be sure to do a post about it soon, as I've been secretly jotting down quotes since I arrived.  I'm loving all of the words they use to describe things: a nightmare, gorgeous, brilliant, smashing, etc. 

A New Leader in the Polls

It seems that my 10-year high school reunion post has been unseated by my 2nd diaversary post in the Popular Posts list.  It might be because the picture of the beer belly that I put with it is awesome, but, in truth, it's probably due to the fact that my sister posted this as her Facebook status update recently: 

I don't give God enough credit sometimes that He knows all and is in control at ALL times. Me getting pregnant with June Bug saved my sisters life... check out the whole story here...http://thelatestwiththeparkers.blogspot.com/2010/10/happy-2nd-diaversary-to-me.html ***What a great reminder that ALL things happen for a reason!!!!

She's always behind big swings in the voting polls. I totally owe my homecoming queen crown to her. I'm pretty sure she threatened all lower-classmen with something awful if they didn't vote for me.  

Here she is getting an early start on intimidation tactics. She would have made a great union boss. Yes, that's me underneath. Yes, I'm older. Yes, I'm still scared of her. 

 Here's us, euphoric after all of her campaigning.

Quite Like, Rather Dislike: Round 2

Quite Like: The Cup of Tea Routine

I kind of like my early 80's crockery, don't you? Anyway, with the magic of the electric kettle, making tea couldn't be easier. I've always felt kind of bad when I went out for coffee or drinks with people because I don't like the taste of coffee or alcohol (Mike's Hard Lemonade being the exception, but I have to stop after drinking down the neck of the bottle because my cheeks feel a li-ttle too rosy and my head gets swimmy.  Lame, I know.). Now I feel completely at home drinking or serving tea. I feel like I am "the people," as Nathan would say.  

Rather dislike: Buying eggs.  All the egg cartons here are divided into two categories: free range or caged, and the label is on the front. The free range cartons are made of a nice green recycled cardboard and have pictures of sweet chickens. The cheap cartons of eggs, the ones at the bottom of the shelf unit, are in clear plastic and have the word CAGED stamped in red on top. I've never really wanted to pay more money for free range eggs before, but now I do, but only because it feels like I'm committing some sort of crime when I buy the cheap variety. I might as well stamp CAGED in red on my forehead. I still don't have a well-paying job, so I'm justifying my chicken torture on lack of funds at the moment. By the way, all the eggs here are brown. No white eggs. I don't know why that is.

I Got a (Temporary) Job

In other news, I have a (temporary) job!  I interviewed last Thursday with an agency that does administrative supply, and I got a call Friday morning to start work today (Monday). I'm filling in as a receptionist for Josephine Butler College, the newest college at Durham University, for the next four to six weeks. In typical "small world" fashion, It turns out their current receptionist is the brother of the girl taking out the trash in this picture.

That's Lauren, and we worked together for a couple of weeks at Crook Hall. She's the one who made all of those delicious scones.  

Anyway, her brother, Phil, got a better administrative job at another college. He'll train me until the end of this week. It's a very low stress job (answering phones, sorting mail, etc.), one that I would love to keep for my time here for purely selfish reasons, but I did the math and a whole month's worth of work won't even cover our rent. I'm hoping my time there will be my foot in the door, so to speak, to the University and perhaps some better paying work down the road.

I have to walk there since we don't have a car, and I clocked it at about 45 minutes one way. That saves me the time and money it would take to go to the gym. :) After work today I went to Tesco to get some food, and it was a complete zoo in there. I got off at 5:00 but didn't get home until 6:20 with my groceries. Blech...  I'm praying for no rain during my "commute" and for our bank cards to come in the mail (it's been seven weeks and three trips to the bank to try to get those) so I can start ordering groceries online.

Cheers!

Quite Like, Rather Dislike: Round 1

Some people have been asking about what I love and/or hate about living in England.  At this point I'd like to say that I've noticed that the English don't really live by extremes.  They don't work hard and play hard.  They work moderately and play moderately.  They don't have love/hate relationships.  They have quite like/rather dislike relationships.  Anything or anyone too wild one way or the other could be internally accused of causing a fuss, thus earning the English sniff and raised eyebrow.  That being said, I've been keeping my very own Love:Hate::Quite Like:Rather Dislike T-chart in my journal.  This may turn into a sort of series.  Here is one from each category for starters:

Quite like: The Electric Kettle

Seriously, what's not to love about the electric kettle?  The old fashioned one I had at home mostly just took up space on my stove, and when I used it last, a nearly invisible water worm wiggled into my tea cup.  Needless to say, it ended up in the trash.  This beauty - this electric kettle - boils water in about one minute.  I've even poured an entire kettle's worth of boiling water on top of dry pasta in a pot and then turned on the stove to keep it going.  It works instantly!  You know the old saying, "A watched pot never boils"?  Well, I'm through watching pots that never boil.  Why aren't these more popular in the US?

Rather Dislike: No chicken/beef/vegetable broth in a can or carton.  Broth was a staple in my cooking repertoire.  What was I to do?  After searching high and low, I've found bullion cubes.  And I made my own stock for the first time in my life using my Crock Pot. I wonder how long it'll keep in the fridge before it goes rancid.  That was a few weeks ago...  Yep. It's mo(u)lded over.  Nasty.

Happy Birthday Daddy

You pulled my first tooth with a piece of dental floss.  I still have that 'Gades jersey.  I don't think you can say the same for your bathrobe.

 This is us on my birthday.  

 Loving the beach...

 The 'stache didn't last long, did it?

I love this picture mostly because of Twine's face.  She looks like she's having a killer time.

 I think I wanted to give you big kisses and then steal your cool 80s watch.

I still love singing in church with you (I'm the blonde with the Dorothy Hamill haircut taking her singing VERY seriously.).

You're my body hairless Indian dad!  Hi-how-are-ya (sung in Native American sing-song).

You are so talented and impressed my high school friends with your hair braiding skills.  

I'm still taking my singing in church very seriously.  This time Twine has the Dorothy Hamill cut.

You look thrilled to be making my birthday cake... just one of your many talents.

 Wowsers!

 You baptized me in 8th grade.

You danced with me at all of the weddings we went to.

 Including mine, of course.

Graduation from Taylor.

Thanks to my fabulous shutterbug mom, who took all of these pictures over the years and then put them in a book for me when I got married.  It was the first item in the suitcase to bring to England.


I love you Daddy!  I hope you have a very happy birthday.  I can't wait to see you soon...

Happy 2nd Diaversary to Me

Me and diabetes... we go way back. Back to two years ago. Today is my 2nd diaversary, to make up a word. Actually, I was diagnosed with diabetes on October 3rd, the day before Jim and Courtney's wedding, which is how I always (always meaning last year and this year) remember their anniversary. But my doctor wanted to run a bunch of tests before telling me if I was Type 1 or Type 2. Now I think "Duh, woman! Of course I was/am Type 1!", but I didn't know anything about diabetes then. I was just happy not to be dying of pancreatic cancer, which is what I thought when my doctor's office called me on my direct line in my classroom and told me my blood sugar was alarmingly high and to come in the next day for another test. I thought I was too old for the "kid kind" of diabetes (Type 1) and too young for the "old people kind" of diabetes (Type 2). All I knew was that one's blood sugar had something to do with a faulty pancreas, so I cried myself to sleep that night, gazing at my slumbering husband, thinking, "Well, babe. It's been a fun two years... I'll see you on the other side." A little morbid, I know. I've always been too dramatic on the inside.


I "celebrate" today, October 16th, as my diaversary because it was the day I was officially diagnosed with Type 1 and started on multiple daily injections of insulin. And it's the day before my dad's birthday, which helps me remember. It's also the anniversary of the day a certain Iraqi moved in with us, but that was three years ago, so that fact is actually irrelevant.  


Moving on!


I never really documented how it is that I originally found out, so I think I'll tell the story for posterity's sake, if nothing else.


Most people find out they have Type 1 diabetes when they black out or slip into a coma and get rushed to the hospital. I still praise God that I did not have that experience. I went in for a normal, ahem, female doctor's appointment on October 3rd, 2008. My sister, who was pregnant with my precious June Buggy at the time, had just had her blood panel done and had a little scare. She discovered that she was a carrier for the cystic fibrosis gene. It turns out that my brother-in-law is not a carrier, and everyone's fine, but it piqued an interest in my own genetic traits. Was I a carrier? Nathan and I were wanting to start a family soon, so I brought this up to my doctor and she ordered a blood panel for me. Three vials later I went back to school.


After the infamous we-can't-tell-you-exactly-what's-going-on-but-can-you-come-back-first-thing-in-the-morning-and-don't-eat-anything-after-midnight call to my classroom a few hours later, I was nervous. I knew that something was really wrong, but I chalked my anxiety up to my inner dramatic hypochondriac tendencies. 


I still remember what I was wearing to that appointment. A dress that my dad bought for me at Anthropologie. Brown tights. Brown shoes from Payless. I straightened my hair. I didn't wear any make up because I planned on crying when I was told about the cancer.


I remember sitting on the crinkly paper. The medical assistant pricked my finger, put the blood on the strip, and plugged it into the machine. I peeked over to see the number, not that it mattered. I didn't know what normal was.


256.


"Is that bad?" I asked. P.S. A normal fasting blood sugar is between 70 and 110.


"It's a little high," she said. "Are you sure you didn't eat anything?"


"I haven't had anything since about eight last night," I said.


The doctor came in soon after that. She was really nice, but she spoke really quickly and I stopped paying attention after she said "diabetes."  My brain was foggy.  I started paying attention again when she asked me if I had taken steroids or had cancer as a child. Um, no and no.


She asked me if I had been tired lately. I wanted to narrow my eyes and say, "Ma'am, I teach middle school. Everyone's tired." I remembered that week falling into a deep sleep in the car (Nathan was driving) on the way to a prayer meeting after dinner. Dreams and all. Needless to say, I had a hard time staying awake through the prayer meeting itself as well.


I just said, "I guess."


"Thirsty? Urinating a lot?"


I drank constantly since school started, starting with a tall glass of orange juice (aack!) with breakfast, thinking that I was thirsty because I was using my voice teaching a lot.  I was going to the bathroom with a full bladder between every class. My secretary kept asking me if I was pregnant. I just thought I was going to the bathroom a lot because I was drinking so much liquid


Over the summer when we were in Israel with Tim and Kristi, I went to the bathroom at least three times a night, but I thought it was just because I didn't want to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night. The only bathroom in their apartment was off of their bedroom, and I had to creep past them sleeping in their beds to use the facilities, which was not something I wanted to do. Basically, I thought my own mind games were causing the problem.


"Will you get on the scale for me?" she asked


108.


What? I thought to myself. I don't ever remember being 108 pounds. Ever. That probably explains why my sister told me that I looked like I was 'carrying a dump' in my pants this summer.


"I'm surprised," I said. "We don't keep a scale at home."


"Well, the nutrients you're eating and drinking are bypassing your bloodstream and just getting flushed out. Your body thinks it's starving to death."


After the appointment, I managed to keep it together until I got to Nathan's office at church, which was just around the corner from my doctor. He closed the door and I burst into tears. "I have diabetes!" I cried. He wrapped me up in his arms and hugged me.


"Okay! It's okay! It'll be fine. You're fine. I love you." 


I know he was trying to be nice, but it wasn't helping. He asked me what type I had, but I didn't remember what the doctor said, so we did the only thing we thought to do, which was to look it up on Wikipedia. We saw pictures of nasty, infected feet and read about people losing limbs. More tears.


"It's okay! Even if you lose all your limbs, I'll still love you. I'll even dance with you. We can do a little dance and call it the diabetic shuffle." And with that, he poked out his elbows, mimicking the loss of his arms, and danced a little jig with the stupidest grin on his face.


I just blinked and then stared at him with my mouth slightly open. He wound down the dancing.


"Too soon?" he asked.


It hadn't even been 10 minutes.  Classic Nathan.


If you're new to the blog, and you care to read more about my journey with the big D, click here.

I went to Google images to find a decent picture to represent diabetes, and I found this. Hopefully I won't be needing suspenders to hold my belly up in the near future.


Oh, by the way, I'm not a carrier for the cystic fibrosis gene. :)

To the Victors Go the Spoils

Jana and Courtney, here are your winnings.  

You each will receive a box of Twinings Limited Edition Rose Garden tea with this enticing description:


"From English country gardens to ancient Turkish palaces, there's nothing like the romance and style of a rose. We think the taste and aroma are special, too. That's why we've blended the elegant fragrance of rose with a light refreshing black tea. Make a cup, take a moment and prepare to be wooed. We've only made a limited number of Rose Garden, so try it soon before it's gone!"


To help you enjoy your tea, enjoy a digestive biscuit to go along with it. Crawford's digestive golden wheatmeal biscuits have been an English staple since 1813.  


My parents received a post card from me to California in about four days, but there's no telling what kind of shenanigans the Royal Mail and the USPS can pull whilst (another British word used quite often) working (read: conspiring) together. I'll be sending it off in the post tomorrow if I have both of your addresses by then. Cheers, girls!


To Kristen H.: You know, after the drawing was done, I totally thought about signing the video for you (especially if you had won), and I just didn't. SO BAD! I'm sorry! I'll be sure to do it next time. I'm apologize for all of the sideways and upside down talking, not to mention Nathan's off-camera commentary. You've got mad skills if you could lipread 10% of that video.

And The Winners Are...

I was so pleased...  33 unique people commented on the blog in one week's time.  I was smiling to myself, carefully cutting squares and putting names on them when Nathan said, "Why don't you just assign the people a number and then I'll pick a number?  That would be easier than what you're doing."


"Because I have a system."


"Ah.  A system."


"Yes.  A system.  So, do you want to come pick a name out of the bag?"


Before I could press play on the computer webcam, he came over and snatched a piece of paper from the bag and blurted out the name, totally ruining the climax of the contest.  So, I decided to have a do-over, thus picking two winners.


And this is what happened...




Winners, will you please e-mail me your snail mail addresses (nicolesampleyparker[at]gmail[dot]com)?  I'm off to purchase your prizes.  Tee hee!

Name That Condiment

English experts, please do tell me what these local grocery store staples are.  I'm confused.  First off, Daddies (plural not possessive) Brown Sauce.  

The word "pickle" is ON the jar, but there are no pickles IN the jar.  The jar just has a black gel-like substance in it.  Please explain.

Salad cream looks like gag cream.  At first I thought it was mayonnaise, but then I saw lots of mayonnaise on some nearby shelves.  It was near the salad dressings, but it looks way too thick and, well, mayonnaise-y to be salad dressing.

I was trying to take these pictures ever so sneakily, but I'm sure I got the English raised eyebrow of disapproval from a few onlookers.


Make sure you leave a comment to get yourself entered into the first ever contest for readers.  You'll get a nice treat from England if you win...

What Up J?

The first thing I  think of when I see this picture of June Bug is the opening song from the classic movie, Office Space...  "D$@! It Feels Good to Be a Gangsta."  I love that you can see all the paparazzi in the reflection of her glasses.  Someone ate her Wheaties today!


Along that same vein, I have to share a quote passed along to me by my friend Katy, who works with teen moms in Florida:

"Why does that man always wanna be up in my business? I don't need no more baby daddies in my life. I don't need him dancing up on me and trying to get in on my drama."