A wonderful weekend!

Dad visited from Townsend, TN (right outside of Knoxville, nestled in the foothills of the Smokies) last weekend, and we had such a great visit. He'd not met the s.o. before, and they totally hit it off. I think Dad liked the s.o. better than he likes me!! :) Just teasing, Dad!

Dad brought all these cool pictures of our ancestors, so now the apartment is all decked out in Van Winkles. Did you know that the Dutch word "winkle" means "store" in English? And "van" means "of the."
I'm TOTALLY of the store! And my wallet knows it.
But, I digress.

This pic is of me and Dad at the Madison Farmers' Market; last Saturday was the first of the year, so there were lots of people, not so many veggies. It was great, nonetheless.


I'm off to Salem, OR tomorrow (yes, Saturday) to hang out with some colleagues who are staying the weekend there. Should be a good time. We'll work at the hospital Monday through Wednesday and fly back on Thursday.

I KNOW my s.o. loves me because he agreed to three straight weekends of my family. On May 14, he and I will drive to Chicago to meet my stepbrother and his family there (yay!); the next weekend, my brother visits from Dallas (super yay!); and the following weekend, he and I go to Raleigh, NC to visit my mom and stepdad for Memorial Day weekend (monster yay!). May will be a busy, fun, globe-trotting (well, just country-trotting) month.

Have a great weekend!

...scout's lady

Oh, sweet Moses!

I pretend that I know Gwyneth personally and that she calls me at home...but it's not true. I don't really know her. :( Alas, that doesn't prevent me from enjoying her happiness from afar.

Is this picture not the cutest thing?! He looks like he's pooping or something, but still...so cute!. Welcome to the world, little Moses.





















This is my favorite celebrity picture of last year. Apple's dad, Chris Martin (hello!), bought these little ear protector thingys for her so she could still enjoy his concerts. Ahh, Gwyneth, you and your perfect little family are wonderful.















P.S. I'm totally gonna get teased by the s.o. for this post. He thinks my pretend friendship with Gwyneth is oh-so humorous.

Cleaning Frenzy: A Child's Prerogative?

My dad arrives in Madison tomorrow, and I've spent the past 3 hours cleaning house and (as a true testament to how dirty the apartment was) I'm not done! The s.o. will take over cleaning duties tomorrow morning. Nothing like the last minute!

During my 3-hour cleaning frenzy (amidst bopping around to tunes on the iPod), it dawned on me that I did the same thing when my mom visited. Why do I feel the compulsion to clean my heart out before my parents visit? One reason is that I don't see them all that frequently. Dad lives in the mountains of Tennessee, while Mom lives in Raleigh, NC. A visit to Madison is a once-a-year occasion. But perhaps the more relevant reason is that I don't want them to think I'm irresponsible. At what age do we stop feeling so much like our parents' child and more like an adult that our parents happen to know? What is it about parents that always make us revert back to child status? Let's face it: their opinions matter, their approval matters, and we want them to think that the life we've carved out for ourselves is a healthy, CLEAN, and productive one.

Does everyone else go through the same thing? Perhaps if I lived closer to them and visits were just ordinary, I wouldn't completely care if there was a tiny layer of dust on the bookshelves. But not tonight. Spick-and-span is the tall order!

And all the while, Scout sleeps. So helpful, that darned cat.

Would you fancy a scone, old chap?

Our trip to London was wonderful, as is evidenced by this small sample of pictures. I will pass along the link when they are fully uploaded at kodakgallery.com. Enjoy!





















Of course, this is such a cliche pic, but I had to do it! Geez, I'm short...and absurdly American (or else he's absurdly British!).
















I love this picture because it illustrates the Cotswold signage. So simple and lovely. I also love that you can see how the whole English countryside is from the background - perfection!
















This is the flat where my dad, mom, and brother lived in 1973. 63 Sevington Road in Hendon. Mom was dismayed that they'd painted the whole building white (including the door, she kept saying), and the room that used to be a bedroom (top left window) is now the kitchen. Definitely not as cute as when they lived there, but fun nonetheless!









I tried to take lots of pictures of English doors, just because I find them so fascinating. This particular door is one of my favorites - it has such character and intrigue. It was at the back of a church in Burford, and I just wonder what's behind it.

An Important Message

Stolen from my cousin's blog (without her permission, but I'm sure she's fine with it :)):

Okay. We're going to give you the full-tilt, unashamed, totally impassioned plea here.

Please make women's history a quiet cause of your own. Share it with your daughters, your nieces, and the girls living down the street. Share it with your sons and nephews. It will make the boys better men. And it will make the girls whole.

Women are still too often seen as self-obsessed, shallow, and dependent. Girls see hundreds of images of models daily. Where are the female entrepreneurs, CEO's, physicists, software developers, doctors, lawyers, ministers, and Nobel Prize winners? So you're ten and female you have been patiently waiting for the world to give you some sign. The only sign you get says, "Be pretty, happy, helpful, kind, and thin." That's in this country. And that's today.

Barbara Jordan, the great Constitutional lawyer and Congresswoman, never imagined becoming a lawyer until she saw a black woman lawyer at a high school career day. You can change a life, too. All by yourself.

--National Women's History Project

Happy Pants

Today I have my happy pants on.

I definitely believe that we choose which pair of pants we're going to put on each morning. Grumpy pants? Lazy pants? Hyper pants? Happy pants? My stepdad told me this (well, not *exactly* this) when I was little. When the grumpy pants just slip on so easily, it's hard to remember that it's a choice to be grumpy.

But today is a great day to be alive.

I know people use their blogs to say how great their lives are and how lovely everything is, and no one really writes when they're feeling down and yucky. I'm guilty of that as well. I didn't write for the past few days because I've had a hard time. But today, the outlook is good. The sky is gray, the temperature is cold, but the happy pants are on!

I'm going to London in a few days (hurrah!), so I promise to have truly juicy stories and fun pictures when I return. I even got a new digital camera (thank you, my wonderful s.o.!!!) to tote along with me across the pond.

Random thought: if you're going through a break-up and want a great, cry-along song, listen to James Blunt's "Goodbye, My Lover." Just him, his piano, and lots of heartache. So sad and true. If you're not going through a break-up, congratulations. Seems there's something in the water, at least in Wisconsin. Cray cray.

Until another time...
...scout's lady