what an introduction.

Easy ladies.
Don't worry about it, I'd only been in London for four hours when Dennis Quiad physically ran his twin's stroller into my lunch table. A quick, "Oh so sorry," and an even faster skuttle off with his beautiful twins and way too skinny wife. It was an epic moment. Especially the part where I didn't realize it was Dennis Quiad until the lovely British man sitting next to us said, direct quote, "Oh my God, that's Quaid, the biggest actor in America."
Granted, I didn't know he'd been in any other movie since the Parent Trap, back when LaLo was still a red head, but I mean, that was the film of my childhood. Or, at least a good few months of it.
The rest of the day was spent in a jetlagged haze that involved a four hour nap and then a round of pub cider. After an a 12 hour night's sleep we were up to tour the Thames, and then we got lost walking around Buckingham Palace. Though, we did find The Dorchester hotel which had a lovely collection of Rolls Royce's in the front parking lot and a man in the lobby that looked suspiciously like Georgia Armani.
Back to the room now for a quick lie down before a night of pubbing and clubbing.
Love. London.

0

I'm at my gate.
Currently sitting across from a 12 year old want to be British rapper. He is listening to really loud music and mouthing the words straight to my face -- really crude lyrics mind you. His mom and dad are straight "snogging" right next to him. Interesting home life I'd imagine.
Welcome to the adventure.

-1

Tomorrow is my last day in the States until January 1. I wonder what I'll miss?
Cheeseburgers. Carol Ann. Millie. NPR. Holdie. Richard. Target.
All in all, this experience is hardly real. It's the definition of surreal. I'm leaving to live in another country, and I feel nothing. I'm not scared, but I'm not excited, because it still hasn't hit me I'm leaving.
I've spent the last week feeling like I should be incredibly busy, and instead napping, playing with Al the Cat, and eating ice cream.
Maybe tomorrow it will all sink in. Maybe not.
Maybe when I get on the airplane it will all sink in.
Then again, maybe not.
I wonder when it will hit me. Perhaps my first day there, when I almost electrocute myself plugging in my laptop, or when I take my first run through Hyde Park. Maybe when I meet Laura and Sarah for a drink. Maybe when it's my first day of class and my professors say, "Cheers."
Maybe it won't hit me at all because I've been preparing for this day my entire life. I've always known I'd live in England, it was always just a question of when.
Guess the answer is now.

typical.

Richard: You're going to England soon. Snipe me while you're there?
Me: Dad, don't you mean skype?
Richard: Right, right. That too.

beatlemania

If anyone knows anything about my family, than they know that Richard has a thing for The Beatles. That is, if thing, translates to life obsession. I've grown up to the tunes of the Fab Four.
Tonight, in my post packing haze, I'm snuggled up with chocolate ice cream and watching The Beatles Anthology on VH1. It's shocking how at home I feel listen to the wit of John, Paul, George, and Ringo.
They just told the Queen to jingle her jewels.
I think when I'm mopey in London, missing home, I'll just convince the girls to head up to Liverpool. We'll do The Beatles tour, get a pint at The Cavern, and sing "All You Need Is Love" at the top of our lungs.

-2

I'm 98.7% almost done packing.
I know, I'm in shock too.
God only knows how I did it. Both of my suitcases are 10 lbs lighter than limit. Seriously. I know. Everyone is in shock. Richard and I did all the packing, while Carol delegated from her chair. If only Holdie has been jerrymandering something in the corner it would have been a true BG moment.
Tomorrow I have some last minute errands, but that's it. I repeat, that's it. I can't beleive it. I figured I'd be frantically running around Top City begging Target to stay open for just five more minutes on Friday night. Instead I'm drinking wine and helping Carol Ann with a cross word.
Life is pretty lame at the moment.
I guess that's what I want. A few lame days before I don't see one for four months. I mean, I guess there is a potential for a lame day here or there in London, but in Middle America, almost everyday is a lame day. I mean, I love the blue sky prairie, but let's be real. It's all pretty lame.
I'm ready for the thrill of big city living. Bring it on London.
Bring. It. On.