one bottle o' pop, two bottle o' pop

Despite being a red-blooded American, I've adjusted to the metric system quite well. Besides being familiar with two liters of soda, I can make rough conversions in my head from mile to kilometer, and from ounce to gram, etc. On a semi-related note, I can even handle thinking about the weather in degrees Celsius and the day in military time.

But, when ordering a four-pack of tupperware on amazon.co.uk in order to turn leftovers into subsequent meals for the week, I failed to make the conversion. When I saw the containers were 5x7x3, I naturally assumed the dimensions were in inches.

But when I opened the box, I saw this:

At least now I have a waterproof case for each of the library cards I've gotten since coming here...

I think I tripped on reality...

So I'm pretty sure someone slipped a Mickey into my drink this past weekend because things sure got fuzzy for a while there. Horizon tilted, faces morphed and changed, colors swam in and out of focus, music was loud and jarring, and nothing made any sense. I think I was high.



Or...



I might have seen this:



It's a toss-up.

“Love and a cough cannot be hid.” -George Herbert

It was bound to happen sooner or later.


Between walking through the buildup of pollutants one expects to find in a big city,

breathing the trapped air circulating and recirculating in the tube stations,

and forgetting to shut my windows before bed when half the building chain smokes through most of the night on the sidewalk outside, (Albeit five stories down but inexplicably upwind from my apartment.)

I've developed a bit of a sore throat and a cough.

Throat Coat herbal tea from Traditional Medicinals (which I had the foresight to bring with me) took care of the first part, and a trip to the chemist will hopefully take care of the second as I returned with this:

They also sell a formula for "chesty" coughs should things go south. But with an adjective like "tickly", one can't help but feel a little better right away.

I only love.

*cough*

I think I'm falling for you

Last Sunday, I packed a lunch and in between conference sessions I walked over to Hyde Park to have a picnic here:

*sigh*

I cannot wait for the rest of the leaves to turn.

once more unto the breach

I don't think anyone could have been more surprised than I was when the plane's wheels touched down at Gatwick. My surprise was threefold:

1. It was the best landing I've ever experienced. The rubber kissed the tarmac so softly I swear it didn't make a sound. And if I hadn't had a window seat I wouldn't even have realize we'd landed.
2. I was about ten seconds away from having to apply for an Atlanta driver's license. Remember that one time when I complained about qualifying for Texas citizenship? Yeah, that was Club Med compared to this pond hop.
3. As I took the Gatwick Express into the city, I had to keep pinching myself that I was really back in the Motherland. Coming back for more than a brief visit had always been a fuzzy hypothetical, so it took me awhile to believe my bleary, sleep-deprived eyes.

Since I've had a few days to settle in, I've run the gamut of emotions, but one thing remains constant: It was the right thing to come here. Everywhere I go, I'm constantly accompanied by a sense of peace and 'rightness' that puts a bounce in my step and a smile on my face.

So, please Mind the Gap in posts as I've been settling in. Next stop: Awesomeness.

Cheers!