Celebrity Stalkers

So, in case you're interested in knowing if we've run into any celebrities, here's my tally so far:

** Prince Philip, as he got out of a helicopter in Kensington Gardens and walked into the Palace.

** Kate Middleton, Duchess of Cambridge, being driven by her chauffeur out of Kensington Palace.

** Jude Law, in the staircase of Liberty of London, and also in the 4th floor Christmas Shoppe at Liberty. He said "Excuse me" as he squeezed by.

** Sean Bean, eating noodles at Wagamama. He was at the table right next to us. (We were eating the delectable raisukaree, my favorite.)

** Jonny Lee Miller, who passed us on the sidewalk just a few minutes after we left Wagamama. He was wearing extremely awesome glasses.

** Jamie Dornan, on the Tube. I still have no idea who he is, but the students I was with flipped out and got their photo with him.

Some of our students ran into Chris Hemsworth in the local gelato joint. They got their photo with him, natch. They also went to the Les Miserables premier and spoke with and had their photo taken with Hugh Jackman and Helena Bonham-Carter, as well as seeing Prince William. Ditto for The Hobbit premier and Richard Armitage.

I would never, under any circumstances, approach a famous person for conversation, autographs or photos. (No judgment on those who would.) But every time I've seen a celebrity, everyone around them is either staring at them or pretending not to stare at them, and all I can feel in such a situation is abject pity at how deeply horrible it must be to go through life like a well-dressed animal in a zoo.

Still. Jonny Lee Miller's glasses truly were incredibly awesome. Good call, Jonny.

Glow

We went to the Churchill War Rooms today. It was magnificent. We spent about four hours there, and could have easily spent more had we not had hungry children with us. I've wanted to go there for years and wasn't able to on our last visit to London, so this was a must for me. It did not disappoint and, in fact, I wish there were more of it.

But the thing that's stayed with me all day is a Churchill quote on the wall immediately upon entering the Winston Churchill Museum, which is down there in the sub-basement with the War Rooms. It so evocatively sums up a person's potential for greatness (even mine!):

We are all worms. But I do believe I am a glow worm.

Talent Show

Because I am me (translation: both a worker and a lover of fun), I can't seem to help planning activities for us here at 27 Palace Court. A couple of weeks ago, I called Talent Show Night and it was a riot. Talent Show Night is almost always done in our family when LBH and I have forgotten to plan Family Home Evening. The most important thing to remember is that, according to the bylaws of Howardism, Talent Show Night isn't actually about talent, and double props go to those who are game enough to display something a little less Broadway-bound than, say, singing a song in tune. Just as with the Primary program, the joy is in the utterly laughable humanity of it all.

 EBH does fish face while raising individual eyebrows in sequence

 LBH juggles socks while reciting the balcony scene from "Romeo and Juliet"

 Some students doing some kind of Harry Potter rap

 A chin face that doesn't quiet know all the words to "Popcorn Popping"

 Scottish Highland Dancing (the kicks were priceless)

 headstand

 cloverleaf tongue

 cheerleading moves

CQH exhibited a drawing (taped on the whiteboard because she's shy), I did both my "Blue Moon" mouse voice from the film "Babe," as well as my "In the Mood" trumpet (I drooled on that one, which was enjoyed by one and all...). All manner of crazy Stupid Human Tricks were demonstrated, and it was a completely delightful way to spend an hour.

Thanks(giving)

Today was Thanksgiving.
It was a day of dancing in the kitchen with cheerful helpers.
It was a day of decorating and cooking and eating.
But it was more than that.
It was a day of creating new memories for new friends.
With, but also for them.
It was a day of mothering other people's children.
Providing for them.
Not just a meal, but an example and a guidepost.
Hope.
A nod to their current needs, and a wink to their capable futures.
Today I participated in miracles.
Saw God's promises to me fulfilled.
Was happily used in His service.
Felt a holiness in living wholeheartedly for others,
gratitude for the calling of Friend.
The Spirit whispered to me: This day is a line in someone's sand. 
This means something to someone, something important.
I don't know why.
I don't know who.
I don't know how.
But making it happen means everything to me. It's who I am.
It's my joyful offering,
with all my heart.
Thanks, Lord, for the opportunity to offer it.
And thanks for finding it to be a
nod to my current needs, and a wink to my capable future.

 At each place setting, pilgrim hats for the boys, pilgrim bonnets for the girls, and place cards for everyone.

One of the three turkeys. And 6 pies with ice cream and compote for dessert.

Christmas cards are finished, so that's something, at least.

They're my favorite of all our past cards, so that's something, too. Now to just figure out how to mail them to you from London without bankrupting ourselves...

As expected, the mid-point is a slump.

We're at the halfway mark and have been in London for about ten days now. I haven't blogged because, frankly, I haven't the interest. It seems my thoughts have been washed and wrung by all the travel and my mind is totally blank. Is it the travel? Perhaps it's the aimlessness I feel when I don't have enough work to keep my mind active. When things get hectic and too ongoing in everyday life, I sorely long for a holiday (like everyone else), but -- at the risk of sounding like a crybaby -- I'll admit that this several months has hinted at being too much of a good thing. It's great... but it's the blurry kind of great similar to a beach vacation: We came, we did what you do, I can't remember what, exactly, and then we left. We're still in the I can't remember what, exactly stage.

The children are homesick. Q has no interest in the magnificent Princess Diana playground just a 3 minute walk from the flat. Why? Because she doesn't have a friend to play there with. (E doesn't count -- poor, underrated little sister.) She's sullen and mouthy and flat-out defiant. E has become a mean little screamer, too. I don't blame them -- and, really, it's infrequent and slight, certainly comparatively -- but I can tell it's getting to them. We knew this would happen, and maintain that when it's time to return to real life, they'll fight that, too. But, regardless of how nice the accommodations and activities are, they haven't been home since August 3, and homelessness is hard. Poor little chooks.

I'm a bit blue. I don't get depressed, so I guess what I've got is a temporary funk. I'd pay real money to spend a day with a dear friend, one who already knows everything about me, who I could talk to without having to explain back stories -- a friend who speaks my language and knows me, unfettered by collegiate expectation. You know who you are, ladies, and let me tell you: you are valued and missed. Additionally, as I've mentioned, I have no work here. I'm inventing jobs for myself (camp counselor; activities director), but it's not the same as having actual responsibility. I miss work. My existence here has limited purpose and it gets wearing. Way back in August when we were at Mum & Dad's house, I mentioned that I really identified with Elizabeth Bennet needing to get out of the house. I do love a walk in nature -- it's so restorative! -- but, really, Elizabeth Bennet wasn't an athlete and neither am I. Rather, we share a desire to do something, anything, a spiritual vigor that requires movement wherever we can find it and a suffocation when we can't. Responsibility can be draining, but having none is worse.

I organized the first movie night for the students tonight (The Thin Man, because I couldn't get City Lights to stream), and we're having the Fall Ball this week. I happily share this family tradition with the students, in the hopes that they'll incorporate it into their own families one day, bringing silliness and closeness. It's easy to give it away to those who hold no expectation of it (it's those who stole it that I can't yet fully forgive).

No, it's not as bad as all that. It's lovely here. I could eat Kensington Gardens with a spoon and keep it on the inside. I do enjoy an urban life and London is a favorite city, but I don't know how I'd survive a long-term life in a city without immediate proximity to a wonderful park. Thank heavens we have a world-famous and much-loved park literally right around the corner. I drink it in every day -- the expanse, the fallen leaves, the squirrels, the swans, the air, it all feeds my soul. I smile at dogs there, and talk to God.

We have a bunk bed in our living room. Yes, I know. The only thing to do was to to make it into a fort. We bought some lovely floral fabric and ribbon on Portabello Road and made the cutest little playhouse you ever saw, certainly the cutest one ever on a living room bunk bed. We hung paper birds from it and have ordered some fairy lights for extra ambiance -- it makes all the difference when playing games in your imagination, you know.

Also, I've received some lovely comments from a few students that have really been unexpected and appreciated. Several weeks ago, a few of them said I'd be great in Young Women's, which surprised me in a happy way. The students are full of admiration for the girls, which is so helpful and means so much. And just last night, a darling student told me that I remind her of Elizabeth McGovern (who she only knows from Downtown Abbey, of course, but who I remember from way back in the day) -- I hugged her!

This is it for today. Next post: more effulgent!

Carousel-crawling through Paris

It was our last full day in Paris, and nothing would please the girls more than to hit as many playgrounds and carousels as we could.  They had been real troupers, following us through the museums and galleries, mostly without complaint, and riding the Metro with caution and aplomb beyond their years.  So we went carousel crawling for the whole day as a way of saying "Thanks for being such great travellers, girls!"  Couldn't have been more fun.  (Just so it's clear, we only consider riding those carousels that ooze vintage charm.  If they have Disney characters, electronic beeping sounds, lightning bolts, or some such other ridiculania on them, we give a wide berth.)

But the day started with the biggest, most delicious mango we have ever seen.  Sure it cost $15, but it was worth it.  And it really was as big a child's head!

... then we went to the best playground in the world, at the Jardins du Luxembourg.

 

More of a climbing ramp than a climbing wall, but E got the hang of it right away

Middle-aged men should never try the zip line at a kid's playground.  It's unbecoming.

C struck up a conversation with two other girls at the playground (so brave, my sweet girl!) and found out they were sisters from Australia.

I thought this was funny and poignant--an old carousel horse daring to peek out from behind the covers while the carousel was closed.

I would never have guessed that our super-cautious C could brave the zip line on her own.  It took several attempts, but she did it! 

It was on this very truck 6 years ago that C struck up a conversation with a little French girl.  We felt like we had come full circle by returning to this playground and revisiting the joy.

... and then to our favorite gelato establishment, Amorino.  They're all over Paris (and Europe, apparently), but this one was never crowded, and its interior was especially inviting.

Why would you even try to resist a gelato store like this?

Back to the Tuilleries carousel, where C hands out some sisterly advice.

Trocadero

A carousel with a hot-air balloon (so cute!), near the Trocadero.  Of course the girls had a turn on this one, upstairs this time.

Then back to the carousel by the Eiffel Tower.

We finished the day with a river cruise, just to see the city from a different angle.

Really?  Designer Coke?  We saw in the store yesterday that the "Jean-Paul Gaultier" Coke bottles are "dressed" in pink fishnet corsets.  Doesn't change the fact that Coke Light is the least palatable of all the Coke beverages.

Ah, the macarons.  We tried them all, from the ultra-famous Laduree, from the wonderful but expensive Liebeaux near the Champs Elysees and several other renowned purveyors of deliciousness, but in the end decided that the macaron au chocolat from the local Monoprix was as good as any of them.  These are nothing like macaroons in the  US, by the way.  Much more rich and substantial, like a cross between a brownie and merignue.  Mmmm.