Random ramblings from the Texan in London.

That's right, folks. Although, my morning wasn't quite as straightforward as the title might imply... Having woken up around six to chaos in the flat due to a moggie-chase (knocking over silver candlesticks in the fireplace was a sure fire way to guarantee human companionship) I managed to doze off until eight. Upon waking, I made myself a proper coffee in the cafetiere, something I rarely bother with as freeze-dried is so much easier, but hell, it's Sunday and I'm feeling indulgent. Upon Himself's arrival into the Land of Consciousness (how did he sleep through the feline fracas???), I decided to make pancakes, unaware of the fact that he had chucked out the eggs the night before. *lol* My tummy just wouldn't settle for cereal after pancakes had been optioned, so I toddled off down the shops in search of chicken fruits. Eggs procured, I made the pancakes, slathered them in peanut butter and chopped banana in case you were wondering, then decided back to b

Let the good times roll. Here are my five happy things for this week: 1. That's right, we're starting with the most important thing in the world. New shoes. *grin* Aren't they lovely? Aren't they beautiful? Not a blister do they give, nor a pinched toe. Bliss. 2. The most marvellous chicken pie in the whole wide world. Gordon Ramsay might have a foul mouth, but the man can cook. Also, the hidden bonus to this recipe is that I found it in one of the cookbooks at my last job and wrote it down on what turned out to be my last day there. *grin* Fortuitous timing. Also, Himself says he likes it even better than my lasagna, which for him was previously the pinnacle of my cooking expertise. For years. So this is a big deal. 3. That's right. It's Paddington Station. For one, I grew up obsessed with Paddington Bear. For two, due to the new job, I now travel from Hammersmith to Paddington Station every day. This means that every morning and every afte

I've just come back to the flat, having had a picnic lunch in our local park with Himself. The weather I mentioned in Friday's post has carried on strong, sunny with clear blue skies. Gorgeous. Unfortunately, yours truly has lost her tanning privileges (in my opinion, the only downside of being heavily tattooed) and thus had to dislodge Himself and move the blanket three times as Mr. Sun blithely swanned across the sky on his merry way. That's the deal, you see. Himself buys a paper, I take a book and then invariably end up stealing the one section of the paper he wants to look at, and we set up the blanket half in the shade and half in the sun. Last year, I wore a cardigan to cover said tattoos and pulled up the back of my skirt to get some sun on my legs. I ended up broiled and lobsterish from mid-thigh down, not a pretty sight. Then came the itching. *shudder* This year, I'm being more careful. This is a bit of a noteworthy blog, as it's the first I'

I've decided there's just not enough random happiness in the world. Well, in my world anyway. So, I'm going to start a Friday post, which means I'm going to have to be slightly more disciplined than I usually am (which just might be a good thing). The way forward for Fabulous Friday Frivolity will be as follows. I will choose five things over the course of the week that made me smile, and I'll give you a free pass to the inward machinations of my twisty brain. It'll give me a tangible reminder of the niceness of life, and hopefully distribute a few grins among those of you who actually read this thing. So, let's get started! The following things make me happy: 1. I guess the number one this week has to be the fact that my now ex-boss came home yesterday from work to inform me that my presence in their house would no longer be needed... *grin* Huzzah! Yes, he's being shady about my final paycheque, but you have no idea how freeing the thought of

So I got a call yesterday afternoon whilst already firmly ensconced within the loving walls of my current job. The employment agency that has placed me once before had an interview for me. "But Gabs," I hear you saying, "isn't this great news?" Yes, it was. The problem, you see, was that I had nothing to wear. This conundrum saw me racing straight from work to the hated Primark. I managed to beg my way into the dressing room with a hastily gathered armful of suit pieces (did you know that even though they close at eight, they close the dressing rooms at half seven???) only to find that none of them fit properly. *sigh* I then sprinted across the street to TK Maxx, where I slipped in the door ten minutes to closing and managed to find three pairs of trousers, and was desperately searching for something to pair with them when I got firmly informed that if I didn't head to the tills right that second, I'd be forcibly placed in restraints and made to

So, I'm constantly reminded of the differences between my upbringing and that of Himself. There are inevitably going to be communication issues with any couple of mixed nationalities, same mother tongue notwithstanding. My most favourite thing in the whole wide world is when we re-enact the following scene: Himself: "Blah blah blah, (insert show from his childhood that never aired in the States so I have no bloody idea what he's on about)." Me: "What?" Himself: "Repeats show name a little louder, like this will make me know what the hell he's talking about." Because this isn't frustrating in the slightest to me. Under normal circumstances, this is about as bad as it gets. Yes, it's annoying, but it's nothing I wouldn't expect from any couple in the same situation. You have your moment of "I seriously may kill him this time" and you move on. That said, every now and then our differing upbringings actually hurts m

Things have been a little crazy for me lately. I know, I know, I can hear you all chorusing "and how is that different from every other day, Gabs?"... shut up. *lol* I gave notice on my job, quoting the least controversial reason for leaving in the hopes of avoiding huge emotional drama with the family. And how did that work out for me, you ask? Like all my best laid plans, it progressed in a markedly different fashion than I had intended. I ended up on the receiving end of a half hour screaming session, informing me that my reasons for leaving were, and I quote, "ridiculous". Because that's professional behaviour for an employer, right? *lol* The main reasons I had given them were that my constant communication issues with the husband of the pair added to the fact that I view my position in their house in a slightly different fashion than they view it meant that I didn't feel this was a viable long term solution. As they had asked me in my one mon