Sunday, bloody Sunday...

"Cinderella, Cinderella, all I hear is Cinderella..."

Ok, so maybe I wasn't exactly working my fingers to the bloody bone this Sunday, but I did spend a good amount of time cleaning and doing--gulp--six loads of laundry (there are about three loads of laundry in the pic). The really sad thing? I'm still not done! Argh.

The fun part of this is that I'm realizing how many clothes I have. The sad part of this is that I'm so not a fashionista and tend to never have anything to wear. The confusing part is the combination of the two previous sentences.

As I'm sure everyone knows my heart is still over in Eng-er-land and my plans to move there, it should come as no surprise that I'm wondering how in the heck I'm going to pack and move all of this stuff over there.

My closet upstairs is completely packed with clothes. My down-down closet is just the same. In fact, my desk and table in the down-down have served as overspill for the already-stuffed closet. It's as though my closet barfed clothes into the rest of the room. Good times.

In one of the expat forums was a posting that posed the question, "What are some of the things you wished you left behind?" There were quite a few who responded that in hindsight, they wished they'd not gone to such lengths to bring so many clothes.

Um...somehow I expect that I'll fall into that group. However, there's no way I can leave my shoes behind! I'm absolutely emotionally attached! See? Even in the pic you can see the one little square that fit me perfectly as I lovingly reorganized them last spring. Um...of course, I've since added to the collection.

Is it wrong that I strive to be like Imelda Marcos..? Really..?

Mercurial in the mostest, I am...

Talk about a fickle change!

I just finished the posting of the prior and checked my e-mail. Sitting in my inbox was a happy lil' note from USAirways on its upcoming e-saver fares. Yup, my London is included. $533 and I'm there--and that (gasp!) includes taxes!

Ah, perhaps that's just the kick in the pants I needed to get me back into my London mood. It parallels what The Universe send me this morning (in e-mail):

Andrea, it is easy. Just once a day, imagine the life you dream of. Believe that it can be yours in this world of magic and miracles. Choose to live as if you know of its inevitable manifestation. Don't compromise. Don't worry. Don't look for results. And as surely as spirit crafts one moment after another, so too will it fuse together the life you now lead with the life of your dreams as if they were two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, destined to become one.

This alone determines what's "meant to be."

I suspect my lack of memory got in my way once more...

I'm baaaack. Tally-ho!

Technology? Bah, humbug...

Now let's get one thing straight: I do not consider myself a technological tyro by any stretch of the means. Granted, I'm not exactly a nine-year-old Asian kid with a roomful of Sony products, but I can hang with (some) of the cool kids.

Which is one of the reasons why I was so absolutely ticked at this crap webcam I bought tonight, that I intended to use at next week's conference in Phoenix. It was recommended by an IT guy from work who showed me his (that sounded a bit crude), which is similar, save for that it's for a Mac. Anywho, I picked this one up at Best Buy tonight for $100. It's a portable one, sits right on top of the laptop screen and would be easy-as-pie to work and interview CEOs on healthcare trends in this troubled economy.

Not so much.

First, I love that they mention about 2,946 times that one must first load the software then connect the cam. It was actually even written on a label/plug thing at the end of the USB connection. (giggle) I suspect they had a bunch of people angrily calling the 800 number...in India.

Like a good techno-geek-girl, I load it up, click it in, and try it out. Whiskey. Tango. Foxtrot. No matter how many times I attempt to record a snippit, there's something wrong: no audio, no recording, no save. Grr. I give up. It goes back to the crap of a hole I call Best Buy.

Now back to our regularly scheduled twitter-time...sigh.

With friends like these...

...I'll never has a sad...

So FloatingHeadDerick called this evening...Man, he's funny. Get the two of us chatting on the phone together and we're like our own kind of episode of Bronx Beat. Um...of course, he doesn't talk with a LawnGuyLand accent like I sometimes do...and he's not a girl, either...um...Maybe it's not like that at all.

He made me laugh, though, as is always the case. "The recession? Unbelievable. When am I getting that flat-screen tv of yours? When are you moving?"
"Oh, the recession! Don't even get me stah-ted! This recession sucks so much, it sucks like a hoover vacuuming up Star-barf..." hehe... Good times. Whew.

FHD and I are going to grab some vino on Thursday, provided I get over my icky cold. "It's like the plague--everyone's got it. Gross. What kind of cough is that, kitten? You got a Pomeranian on your lap, barking into the phone?"

Yeah, I'm finally feeling a bit better from my cold/flu deathbed, but this lingering, bronchitis-y cough? That's hot (as said in my Paris Hilton voice).

"...Christmas goose? I'd like to give you a Christmas goose. You know wha'? I'll give it to you 365 days a year. Everyday is Christmas wit' me..."

Man, that kills me...as do those English accents...I'm glad I don't have an accent. Whew...

Ah-choo! I has a sick...

Fabulous.

I've been sick for five days now. Argh! Why do we have colds, anyway? I'm coughing, drinking DayQuil like it's my job, and just in a general state of malaise. It's not helping my recession-induced mood, either...Too much to do, not enough brain power to do it.

As you can see from the pic, I'm taking anything and everything to assuage the ickiness: tissues (which I'm blowing through like lightning), Zicam, Vaporub, Chloroseptic, Theraflu, Tylenol...you name it. (Note the Glamour mag; the healing properties of trashy magazines are legendary, you know...)

One of the oddest additions to my medicine cabinet was from London trip # 5. On our second day there, I started to feel as though I were getting a cold. Oh, no-no-no-no. I've no time for that. Tracy and I went to the chemist to see what kind of Zicam-like/nip-it-in-the-bud meds we could find. The pharmacist suggested this Vicks First Defence gel/nasal spray stuff. (I know, I know--gross.) Determined not to obtain a full-fledged cold during my vacation, I tried it.

We left and whilst sitting on a bench in the middle of the mall, I stuck this stuff up my nose and sprayed. Schnikeys! I have no idea what is in this stuff (menthol eucalyptus??) but crikey--it burned my nose and I started tearing up. Maybe that's how it works--it makes you feel so icky and hurt that any cold symptoms are simply a rung in the ladder, comparitively speaking..?

Ahh...back to work tomorrow...Inauguration Day...Historical moment...Crazy.

As a side note, why is it that I'm always home sick when big, newsworthy things break? Thursday's plane ditching by Capt. Sully in the Hudson, where not one person on the LGA--> CLT flight perished, the Columbine High massacre...I don't know...Weird.

It has to be easier than this...

Hmm...Although I've had a few personal wins at work this week (and it's only Tuesday!), I'm a bit deflated by a few new occurrences in the moving world...

In this wonderfully connected world of the Internet in which we live, we have the voyeuristic ability to read all about strangers' lives. (Man, that sounded a bit creepy...) I was taking some "me" time last night, searching the Web for England/London links and found a blog written by an Australian girl. She was relating her stories of the week, mainly how she was convinced she'd be fired this week, didn't have enough money to stay and would likely have to move back. Sigh.

Then, during my daily two-hour morning news scan, I can find nothing except how awful the economy is and how we're all doomed and destined to lose our jobs and have to start raising hens to sell at a farmers market, for there will be no industries, no white collar jobs (the white collar crimes having already been committed...). Ugh, ugh.

There's a really depressing timeline here: I need the visa (before any more new, restrictive changes go into effect) in order to get a job. I need a job in order to be able to move. I need to move in order to be happier.

The starting point is the job. No one is going to hire a lil' Yank when all of the natives are being dismissed (or "made redundant"). Red said that things are bad everywhere, but just because they are, doesn't mean I'll never get to go. Humph. It doesn't really help when you'd already had everything mapped out.

Like the LOL cat, today I haz a sad.

When do the "12 Days of Christmas" end..?

Apparently, in my world they go on through January...I believe that's called procrastination. Sigh.

Tracy, my neighbor, came over the other night after seeing flashing lights, a helicopter, and locked-up traffic outside of our windows on the nearby beltway. (It was just a couple of carjackers that crashed into an overhead sign after stealing a cop's SUV. The vehicle exploded into a fireball, one of the carjackers died, the other ran--but was apprehended within the hour. Good times. Nothing to see here, people...move along...)

Anywho, she came over as I was trying desperately to fit some Christmas treats into a box for Phil Squirrel. I'd actually purchased the contents about five weeks ago, and spent a procrastinating month-plus wrapping it and trying to shove it in this little box to finally send off.

Since Tracy was over, we opened up some wine (which was much better than the Diet Coke I had previously been sipping) and I enlisted her packing abilities into the task. Her solution is in the pic. "Does he really need all of this? If we remove this one, it fits!" There's the spirit of giving at its finest! (winks)

I'm pleased to report that all was squashed into the box and promptly shipped out...um...three days later. (Why is is that going to the post office is the worst-ever errand? Is that just me?)

Movin', movin', movin'...

So last night I had a bit of insomnia (which is SO unlike me; I can usually sleep through a hurricane), and I found myself pawing through the pages of the Internet, looking at flats in London/greater London. While I'd adore being able to rent a fab flat in Mayfair with three bedrooms and a huge reception room, I see that those are a bit too much out of my price range. (Meh, what's £3,000 per month, anywho? Sigh...)

However, I did see some that could fall into the realm of (gasp!) "consideration" (that being, not a flat share situation, allowing a Star, cute, near a tube station, etc.). So many, in fact, that I happily closed up the laptop and thought to myself, amazed, "Wow. Like, I can do this...I will be able to find a place! Hooray!"

It's funny that the closer I get to the end of the month — and the application for the visa — the more I find that I'm really ready (in every sense of the word) to just go. Really. There's truly nothing holding me here.

We have one go-'round on this big blue marble. I don't ever want to be on my deathbed wishing for the things I should've-would've-could've done. Didn't Ferris Bueller say something similar once? (winks)

After all, the sooner I get to move, the more days I have to spend at Andrew Edmonds enjoying a long, leisurely lunch...(P.S. That's where the pic was taken; it was one of the best dining experiences in my life.)

Back to work...

I think everyone was groaning a bit this morning with the realization that today marked a full (gasp!) workweek. Yikes, yikes, yikes. Meh, at least we shared a bunch of laughs at work today.

I think I didn't realize just how many people are Facebooking these days. The funniest part is that quite a few people responded and inquired about one tiny, little, one-line post on my FB: Andrea has joined the group "Moving to London." Who would've known that one 8-word line would've raised so many eyebrows, including three at lunch. First the doubters ("Mmmhmmm" and "The question is when?"), and then the shocked ("I saw that. Are you really planning to move? You just got the new job."). Crikey!

Yes, I'm still hoping and planning on it. My only concern is Star-dog. I seem to be having an awfully difficult time finding search criteria for flats to let that allow dogs...and I'm not exactly keen on searching through the 5,397 listings in London. Oh, but she just has to come with me. I can't leave her behind. With a face like hers, how could anybody?

Out with the old, move to the new

In harmony with my plans to move across the pond, I've realized the necessity of paring down and getting rid of all of the huge amount of stuff I've acquired in my little condo. (It seems 7 years of not moving have caught up with me. Ugh.)
This morning I rid myself of four garbage bags from the cabinet under the sink. Whoever could've known that so many bottles of nail polish, hand lotion, old meds and hair products would have fit in that little space. Yikes.
Next up? The pantry. It was good to eliminate those old spices and mixes that I've somehow held onto for I-don't-even-want-to-know-how-long. (When was I ever planning to make Veg-all as a side dish? Barf.)
I've now signed up for Freecycle.org to get rid of the stuff in my down-down and garage. I am absolutely fearful of attacking the down-down closet. Sigh. The Freecycle has already offered two potential ways to remove a flat iron and a scanner, though. Perhaps it won't be that bad. Does anyone need two huge Tupperware containers of Halloween decorations? Anyone? Anyone?

It does feel good, though. Getting rid of all of this garbage makes it feel more real to me. I'll surely not be bringing much over, save for clothes and my shoes. Heck, the shoes will take up a shipping container unto themselves! Gasp! That doesn't mean I'd have to pare down on my heels, does it?? Perish the thought!

Happy New Year!

So I start out fine-fine-2009 with my England plans front and center of my mind. I awoke on New Year's Day after a really relevant dream: I was in a blank, white office with some Englishman (no idea who!) and was stressed and anxious at applying for the visa, certain I'd forgotten to include necessary documents. A little man entered from a back room and handed me a stamped visa, at which time I broke out into tears of joy...and promptly bought a new, fancy UK cell phone (er, mobile).

Later that day (er, back in real life, that is!), while playing Piano Player on my NDS Brain Age 2, I was given the tune "London Bridge." Hmm...What else could a tired girl do that evening but cook a nice dinner of beef medallions (with a mixed mushroom cream sauce) and my first batch ever of Yorkshire pudding?! I love those little things. It was perfect and yummy and had me dreaming of creating such treats on the hob and oven of my soon-to-be flat in England.

Ok, they may look a bit lopsided, but they tasted phenom!