For Auld Lang Syne

2017 has given me much to celebrate; I moved to the UK to be with the love of my life, I got married, I celebrated my first Diwali, Karva Chauth, and Bon Fire Night, its been a year of firsts.

Its been a year of making memories and making plans for the future.

It hasn't all gone smoothly, but I have a year of amazing memories and even the struggles don't seem as bad now as I reflect on the ups and downs this year has brought. I packed up my entire flat with the help of one of my besties and my mum in 3 days ( the 3 most exciting and stressful days of my life).  A horrible holiday turned into a lovely one, I made new friends, saw old friends get married, visited a new country, and made plans for the future.  I've had bouts of homesickness, moments of anxiety, and times when I didn't understand the culture around me, but every moment has made me a stronger person.

I don't know what 2018 will bring, hopefully a job, a home of our own, and maybe an adventure or two. Thank you 2017 for all you have given me, and 2018 I look forward to what you have in store...

Christmas Spirit...

As Christmas looms closer I can't help but feel a bit more homesick as the day approaches.  The house is filled with holiday smells, and yet they aren't the ones I am accustomed to.  Fruit cakes, lemon drizzle, chocolate bark, while all of it sounds lovely, none of it shouts "Its Christmas" to me.
Grandma's homemade fudge, divinity, peanut brittle, Christmas cookies, these are the holiday smells I've grown up with. 
Holidays are steeped in tradition and as a foreigner in a foreign land I am finding the transition difficult. My husband bless him has been a rock and even my very own Christmas elf trying his hardest to bring back my holiday spirit. We've gone to Winter Wonderland, Oxford Circus and Regent Street for Christmas lights, went to see White Christmas on the big screen. It has all been amazing.  And I have to admit that at times my holiday spirit is quite high, but then it seems to suddenly drop to almost nothing and I find myself thinking about Christmas traditions back home and I feel the tears start to well up in my eyes.
Its not that my new family doesn't want me to keep my traditions, I have tried to bring some of my traditions here, I made Christmas cookies for my mother in law's Christmas hampers to give out to family, but I didn't find the joy I usually feel as I was left to make them by myself.  Christmas cookies were always a family affair with everyone decorating them in their own fashion. My brother the artist made elaborate decorations that were almost too pretty to eat, while I was more of a see how many sprinkles I can fit on one cookie sort of decorator.
I know that one day I'll wake up and I won't feel quite so out of place, but the holidays are hard.  This year I will hopefully make new traditions to blend with old, and next year I won't feel the sting of homesickness quite so much.

Dear Santa

Dear Santa,

How are you and Mrs. Claus? How are the elves? I have been very good this year, or at least I think I have been good, I mean I haven't committed any criminal offences that I am aware of so thats good right?  I still go the gym though not quite as often as I should, and I try to be kind to everyone.  This year for Christmas I would only like one thing, can you help me fit in here in England, I'm still finding it difficult. I figure if I fit in then it will be easier to find a job, so maybe a hat or a British accent would help. Thank you in advance and I hope you have a safe journey.

Merry Christmas,

Carli

P.S. I'll leave you cookies and a coke just like I always do!   

Seven Years Between

In December 2010 I experienced my first Christmas in London, my boyfriend (now husband!) took me to Winter Wonderland for the first time.  What a wonderful day it was, and my first time at a Christmas Market, German hotdogs, chocolate covered everything, and that wonderful feeling of Christmas.

Fast forward seven years later and and we revisit that London icon of Christmas.  Its gotten bigger, the lights have gotten brighter, but the feeling is still the same.  We ate German hotdogs again, I traded in the chocolate covered grapes for chocolate covered pineapple and opted for a candy apple to bring home for later.

 2010 Winter Wonderland was quite small in comparison to the size it is now, we spent 3 hours and I think just about saw all of it.  There were more rides than I'd seen before and lots more food and trinket stalls. The crowds were larger, but it didn't matter. Walking hand in hand in it felt like it was just the two of us. We played in the artificial snow, drank mulled wine (well Mr. V had hot chocolate) and even danced when a favourite song came on.  All in all it was a magical evening.

2017

2010

I'll Just Call it Turkey Day!

Moving to the UK I thought perhaps I would leave this holiday back in America, my husband convinced me to share the holiday with my family here in London.  Thanksgiving is strange holiday.  We prepare a huge feast and eat until we are stuffed all in the memory of those first settlers who came to America on the Mayflower and nearly died had it not been for the indigenous people who saved the colonists.  The story goes that in 1621 the Plymouth colonists and the Wampanoag Indians shared a feast to celebrate the autumn harvest thus marking the first Thanksgiving. The harvest would not have been possible if the Wampanoag has not taught the colonists what plants were edible, how to grow crops, fish in the rivers, extract sap from trees, etc.  For decades following this, individual colonies and states celebrated days of thanksgiving.   In 1863 in the midst of civil war President Abraham Lincoln proclaimed a national holiday known as Thanksgiving to be held each November.   Today we acknowledge the 4th Thursday of each November as Thanksgiving.   

This is the story we are taught from the tender age of five, we bring home pilgrim hats made of construction paper, colour turkeys made from our hand prints, and as a grand finale of the holiday school children put on a production portraying that first Thanksgiving.  What a bunch of hooey!!!  This narrative we are taught and reminded of year after year paints a perfect and happy portrait of relations between the Wampanoag and the colonists.  It completely glosses over the long and bloody conflict between the Native Americans and European settlers.  A conflict that has resulted in the death of millions!  For Native Americans the 4th Thursday of November severs as a day to remember the disease, racism, and oppression the European settlers brought.  It is a day to remember and mourn the loss of millions of lives during the centuries of conflict between the Native people and the settlers.  We were sold a myth about the first Thanksgiving from a very young age.   In reality the colonists rewarded the kindness of the Native American peoples kindness by enslaving many and trying to carry out genocide on the rest.

My mum and I, I  think have always struggled with this holiday.  Being part European and part Native American its a struggle to come to terms with the holiday.  One part wants to celebrate the other part wants to mourn.  The only way I have found to cope with this holiday is to acknowledge both sides.  I am grateful for the kindness my Native ancestors showed to my white ancestors and I mourn for my Native American ancestors who were enslaved, ravaged by disease and war, and died.  I do not celebrate what my white ancestors did to my native ancestors but I do acknowledge it.  What I do celebrate is a year of successful harvests.  I give thanks that I have a roof over my head, food in my belly, and good health.  I give thanks to my ancestors for their strength, their courage, and their sacrifice.  I give thanks for my family and for all that I have.

Unemployed, Ashamed, and Disheartened

Even if you are one of the happiest people full of hope and generally optimistic about life, searching for a job can be painful, depressing and down right soul sucking. Especially when it takes longer than you expect to find that new job. 

I have found that one of the most difficult things to handle is the uncertainty of everything. I don't know when this search is ever going to end! Granted I am extremely fortunate to be living at home with my husband (who is employed full time thankfully) and his parents so I'm not constantly stressing about how to pay rent/mortgage, etc.  But what kills me is I don't know how hiring managers are reacting to my cv, do they just plain hate it? Am I really not good enough? Is it because I'm American? What is it!!! 

Rejections are so disheartening:

So I recall reading that the average job posting gets 300+ applications.  So essentially I'm competing against 299 other people for the same position. We've all been to school, done the training and are now all desperately vying for the same jobs. I know that rejection is all part of the process and eventually I am going to get an email that isn't a rejection but its is difficult to not feel bad about myself when I get rejection after rejection.

There is also this constant feeling of being unwanted.  Job = acceptance, acceptance = wanted, wanted = valuable.  If your offered a job, it means that there are people out there that say "hey, your talented and we want you to be part of this company because we think that you are great".  If no one is offering you a job what does that mean? 

I've also found that I feel ashamed for being unemployed. Family and friends ask me how work is going and I instantly put my head down and murmur that I' still looking. They give the usual response of "something will come along", "have you thought about just taking any old job", "keep trying", "have you applied to very many".  Its embarrassing!  There are times when I don't want to visit family or friends because I don't want to have to explain that I'm still an unemployed loser.  

Looking for a job is a full time job, I spend on average 9 hours a day (five sometimes six days a week) combing job sites, writing out cover letters and customising my cv to match the job description.  So to work 40+ hours a week and see nothing positive come from it for months on end (i.e.a job) its is disheartening and wearing me down.  I have gone from a confident museum professional with years of experience ready to tackle the next project to someone that is wondering if she's even good enough to work at McDonalds. 

Happy Halloween!?!?

I suppose as an American I just grew up thinking of Halloween just like any other holiday, one that is celebrated with family and traditions. Pumpkin carving, cookie making, and time spent together.

Where I grew up people started getting excited about Halloween by no later than October 1.  Decorations were put up, and candy started to get stockpiled in anticipation for the hordes of trick or treaters that were guaranteed to knock on your door.  I always anxiously awaited for the day my mum said it was ok to carve the pumpkin.  Scooping out its guts and saving the seeds to be roasted with salt later that evening.  I would carve eyes, a nose and mouth in my pumpkin. Sometimes making it a silly face and other times giving it a vampire like grin.

As a child of the late 80s/early 90's there was nothing more exciting than the prospect of a bag full of candy and no amount of scaring was going to keep us away.  Growing up in a small town I knew all the best houses to score the most coveted treats.  The enormous brick house at the end of the road that gave out king size candy bars to the first 25 trick or treaters (but you couldn't go before 6pm), the house that created a scary maze in the back yard that had full size candy bars for those brave enough to venture thru the terrifying tunnels of straw with monsters waiting to jump out.  The two houses that gave out homemade popcorn balls, and the house that invited you in for hot chocolate and chili to warm you up before you continued on your way.  No one worried about being kidnapped, or slipped a razor blade in their treats.  It was a night of glowing pumpkins and magic.

Every year my brother and I would start the day off at my aunts house where we decorated Halloween cookies, after it was back to my grandmothers house where we had dinner and then changed into our costumes.  When we were very young my aunt or uncle took us out trick or treating but as we got older we went on our own.  I remember my grandmother, mum and aunts always dressing up and taking turns answering the the door as child after child knocked on the door.  My gram bought bags upon bags of candy and had bowls ready and lined up for the hundreds of children that would knock on the door.  It was a night of magic and memories.

As  I got older and no longer young enough to trick or treat, the responsibility of taking my cousins out to all those houses became my responsibility and joy.  Taking them to the houses I had gone to a child and seeing the joy on their faces when they got the king sized candy bar, the popcorn ball, and all the other halloween treats.  It didn't come without its perks, as the homes we went to were the same I had visited as a child as they always insisted a take a piece for myself as well. 

Living here in the UK for the first time in 2008 I realise that Halloween isn't celebrated like it is in the US.  In fact at the time there was hardly a mention of Halloween.  Something I found incredibly strange as Halloween got its start here over 2,000 years ago with the Celts and the celebration of Samhain.  As a uni student we celebrated halloween the way all students do, with a party.  My second year living here I went back to my roots, carving a pumpkin to place in the window and buying a few bags of candy in hopes of trick or treaters knocking on the door. I turned on the porch light and waited for the first knock.  No one came and I realised that my love of Halloween was not transcontinental.

Here I am living in the UK again 7 years later and I do see a change.  Halloween costumes at Asda, adverts on the t.v. about getting ready for your Halloween gathering, and pumpkins available for carving. There are even events in London to celebrate the holiday.  But living with a family of Brits its just not something they celebrate and so I didn't either this year.  No cookies in the shape of pumpkins, bats and ghosts, no carved pumpkin, no decorations on the door or in the windows, no candy for the trick or treaters that might knock.  Its just a day like any other.

I've told myself all weekend long that Halloween didn't matter, its just a silly holiday and my little traditions won't be missed by me or anyone else. But sitting on the sofa this afternoon watching an old Halloween episode of the Goldberg's I realised that it mattered to me.  I'd grown up with Halloween being a time of family and friends.  Bobbing for apples, cake walks, gold fish ponds, candy, I love all of it, and I miss it.

So Happy Halloween where ever you are! 🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃

Happy Diwali!

My first Diwali as the newest member of my family was one that I shall remember for all of my days.  For days the house had been filled with the aroma of simmering dal, pertha, chole, and various other dishes (mum had been cooking for 3 days straight!). The evening of our celebration (Diwali was on Thursday, but because of my husbands work schedule we celebrated on Friday) we turned on all the lights, lit candles in the windows, and gathered together for puja.  After which we gathered at the table and began our feast, as you can see from the photo there was a lot of food and all of it was amazing. We talked and laughed and ate until we were stuffed.  What an amazing experience it was and I look forward to celebrating Diwali every year to come.

Nostrovia!!!

Nostrovia!!! For those of you who don't speak Polish, that means Cheers!!! I used this word many a time over while in Krosno Poland this past weekend in the celebration of my dear friends Eshan and Sylwia's wedding.  Vodka, food and dancing were in mass amounts and if you left hungry or full of energy clearly you didn't celebrate properly.  The Polish people love their vodka, but I think they love their food even more. From the moment we sat down as Dwa Cerca until we left there was an endless supply of food.  Soups, potatoes dishes, meat dishes, more potatoes, more meat, it just went on and on. And all of it lovely. Well I say that but there were two dishes I found questionable, the first being a jellied meat and veg dish, and the second a fish fillet (herring I think or mackerel) wrapped around some sort of shredded cabbage or apple and covered in a bright orange sauce.  Neither dish appealed to me, but I did try pretty much everything else.  In between dishes of food and shots of vodka we danced, oh did we dance! Then of course we returned to our chairs out of breath and with tired feet to start the round again.  Food, drink, dance, repeat, food, drink, dance, repeat! Nostrovia!!!

Mendi, Mathai and Marriage, Oh My!!!

As a newly married woman there are many things I am still learning. Yesterday I learned about and  experienced my first Karva Chauth which is celebrated by married women in Northern India.  Women fast from sunrise to moonrise for the safety and longevity of their husbands.  The day varies from year to year as the festival falls on the fourth day after the full moon in the month of Kartik in the Hindu calendar.  What a wonderful day it was and it was made all the more special by my mother in law, aunties and cousins all there.  I have to admit waking up at 3:20 in the morning to get ready to leave the house for 4 in the morning was not easy.  Breakfast (called sargi on this day) has to be finished before sunrise and no more food or drink can be had until after the evening ceremony.  It consisted of flat breads (which starts with a P but I can't spell it, pronti is how it sounds), gobi aloo and chutney, and then finished with 7 different fruits and 7 different mithai.  After breakfast we sat around the table chatting, and then one of my cousins got out the henna cones and we did mendhi on our hands.

 After, mum and I headed to Wembley for a bit of shopping.  We also stopped to see her sister (my Massi) before getting dressed up for the evening ceremony.

We got back to Hounslow and everyone else who was fasting started as arriving as well.  Once everyone was there we did a few photos and then prepared for the next ceremony.

We all sat on the floor and listened to the story of Karva Chauth (←click to hear the story) with our puja thalis in front of us ready to begin the ceremony.

We then listened to the Karva Chauth song and passed our thalis around 7 times as the song indicated.

For the final ceremony we looked through a sieve at the moon and offered it water (from our thalis) and a bit of mithai, we then ourselves drank the water and had mithai breaking our fast.  After that it was time to eat. The men were very kind and let us ladies eat first.  The food was simple and so delicious. 

 

My mother in law, aunties, and cousins made the day so very special and I felt so lucky to take part in this tradition.  Next week is Diwali which I am also looking forward to celebrating for the first time. I have married into an amazing family with wonderful traditions that I am learning and incorporating into my own life.  Next month I get to introduce them to the American tradition of Thanksgiving, but I might be nice and not make them watch American football, but they have to eat the pumpkin pie! Lol! 

Oh Give Me A Home.....

Idaho: mountains, trees, cowboy boots, and big breakfasts.  This was everything I wanted my UK family to experience while there, and for the most part they did.  Sudheer and I had a wonderful time at our reception, we were able to see loads of family and friends and our two families finally got to meet! On the Sunday my family hosted a bbq in my childhood park and we at elk, moose and deer until we were about to burst, then we topped off with apple crumble, peach cobbler, and black forest cake (s'mores were also available). All in all it was a great experience but time passed to quickly and the goodbyes were teary.  We didn't actually say goodbye to anyone, instead we left everyone with a see you later and an invitation to visit us in London.  It is my hope that they do visit.  

The Final Count Down....

In less than a week my husband (still seems strange using that word) and I will be packing our bags and flying together for the first time since a family holiday to Italy in 2015.  This trip takes us back to Idaho for three main things:
1. get my stuff shipped over here
2. Have a second reception so we can celebrate our wedding with the rest of the family that didn't come to the wedding (only 3 family members were able to make it, my mum and two cousins) and
3. Show my new family what Idaho is all about.
Its going to be a busy 7 days!!! Friends to catch up with, people to introduce my husband to, finalise everything for the move and the reception.  I have my suspicions I'm going to come back and need a holiday from my holiday! I should also mention that this weekend we are also going away to Bath for a pre-birthday get away. My birthday is at the end of the month.  
So long story short I'm taking a bunch of Londoners to little Pocatello Idaho and hoping for the best. Fresh air, wide open spaces, mountains, trees, and driving on the right side of the road oh the things that make Idaho great!  And while I am looking forward to heading back to my old stomping grounds I am slightly leery of what my two families will think of each other.  Its like Cal-Ranch meets Harrods.  Its going to be interesting, both sides will probably find the other side strange but with any luck they will blend into one happy family. If not at least its only for a weekend of reception and bbq's and with food involved I think I can manage to keep both sides happy.

Self Reliance, Family, and Missing Pieces

If your like me you've been self reliant for a loooooong time!  I've also always been the one who makes sure everyone else is ok. Growing up I took care of my great grandmother (Nana) what started out as me spending the weekend with Nana when I was 7 turned to spending the week with her and weekends with my Mum until by the time I was 10 I was living with Nana full time and my Mum would visit us once a month or so.  I became the one my Nana relied on to buy groceries, run errands, and help with the upkeep of the house. I suppose you  could say I grew up quickly. By the time I was 11 weekends changed from sleepovers with friends to staying close to home in case she needed me. I didn't mind though. Truth be told I relied on her as much as she relied on me.  Nana always knew how to mend the physical and emotional hurt, she was the one I turned to the day my best friend committed suicide.

Spending time with my great grandmother was amazing. My love of Japanese culture came from her.  She had a curio cabinet (which I inherited) full of little Japanese treasures. I remember as a child her allowing me to open the cabinet and play with those wonderful treasures.  I was always so careful to make sure I didn't drop, break, or otherwise inflict harm to those trinkets which she held so dear. My play mostly comprised of having the Japanese figurines walk over the ceramic bridge.

It was also from my Nana that I gained a love of England.  I remember on a family holiday to Washington we went to the ocean and my Nana telling me that if I looked really hard I could see the shores of England.  I didn't have the heart to tell her we were standing on the wrong coast and even if we were on the correct coast it was too far away. But I stood with her and looked out over the water imagining I could see the British coast and the land of our ancestors.  Nana was named Esperance after the ship that brought her parents over from the motherland.  She always wanted to go the England, but never had the chance. With her passing (I was 14) I made it my goal to one day visit England for her.  I made my first trip here in 2007 in her honour.  I still remember stepping off the plane at Heathrow Airport and whispering "I did it Nana, I'm in England", tears rolling down my cheeks I made my way to immigration.

Living here in London I have to wonder what Nana would think of England. The hustle and bustle of the city, crowds of people rushing to and from work, even bigger crowds of tourists taking in the sights.  I imagine if she were alive today she would want to see Buckingham Palace and Tower Bridge.  She wouldn't want to the take Underground, she'd prefer a black cab. We would have tea with scones and clotted cream and she would tell me the stories her parents told her of England. We'd window shop at Selfridges and try on hats in a fancy hat shop. We'd travel outside of London and see Windsor Castle, Stonehenge, and go to the seaside where we would site and have proper fish and chips.

Life isn't the same without her around and even though she has been gone for 25 years I still miss her everyday, but I hope she looks in on me from time to time and is proud of the person I have become.

I See the Sea!

The sea is a magical place.  The salt in the air, seagulls flying overhead, the sound of the crashing waves.  If I close my eyes I can almost smell that salty sea air and feel the mist on my face. 

Earlier in the week my husband surprised me with an afternoon trip to Brighton. We got the train and in less than an hour we were there.  We had lunch at Wahaca a lovely Mexican restaurant and then made our way down towards the pier. Walking down the hill, I couldn't help but suddenly turn to my husband and say "I see the sea!!!" excitedly. He laughed and told me that as a child it was always a game to see who saw the sea first when they all traveled together to the coast.  

I was so excited to finally be at the seaside again, my last venture to a British beach had been in 2010 to the sandy shores of Margate.  

Brighton is a different kind of beach, its rocky and the day we were there extremely windy.  I had worn a dress, something I had thought would be fine as I was told to dress summery.  After the first 3 near Marilyn Monroe moments I quickly rummaged around in my handbag and pulled out a 10p coin and an elastic; quickly MacGyvering my dress into a onesie. It wasn't pretty but it did the trick and I was no longer constantly worrying about showing the world the colour of my knickers.  

Clothing crisis adverted I was free to enjoy the beauty of the sea. We walked along the pier taking in the sites and then decided to have a walk down to the rocky beach.

I will always believe that the ocean has healing properties, it speaks to me.  I genuinely feel that I need periodic trips to the seaside so that I can put my feet in that cold salt water and let the ebb and flow of the water draw out all the negativity, fears, and doubts that are clouding my mind.  Standing in the tide I let the water pour over my toes rising up to my knees and absorb its strength while letting its calming caress soothe my soul.

After I sat on the rocky beach letting my legs dry and watching the waves crash onto the shore.  Side by side my husband and I sat in silence taking in the beauty of the ocean, a bright blue sky overhead, wind whipping the sea into a frenzy of waves.  It was a perfect afternoon. We sat there until it was time to catch the train home. Stopping at the pier we got a bag of churros to share and sat on a step to eat and talk.  It could not have been a more perfect day.  I hope we visit the seaside again soon.  Next time I'll wear something more beach appropriate and we've already agreed we'll have chips on the beach.

Deja Vu?!?

In three days I will have been married five months! Wow where did the time go? Still riding high on the coat tails of wedding bliss, in a month and one day we will be leaving our home in Addiscombe (suburb of Croydon - borough of London) for the mountains, trees and wide open spaces of Idaho for our wedding reception vol.2.
Hold up! Wait just a minute! Wedding Reception?!?
You might staring at your screen thinking to yourself "but you were married five months ago didn't you have a reception then? Or are you just greedy and want to be the centre attention all over again?!?" For those of you who know my husband and I you know that neither of us enjoy being the centre of attention. I am the epitome of a wallflower. I find a corner and blend into it like a ninja, its my skill.  Obviously on our wedding day we were all smiles and so busy with ceremonies, pictures, etc I didn't even have a chance to find a corner to blend into. Though truth be told wearing a big white dress makes it difficult to blend haha!  So back to the wedding reception part 2.  On our blessed day I had five people from Idaho with me my mum, cousins Kaitie and Talon, best friend Annette, and Poky mum Lynn. The rest of my family (there are a lot of them) didn't have passports or funding to attend.  So we are packing up and having a celebration with all the family and friends I left back home in Idaho.
And while it seems like all fun and games, with a second celebration comes all the wedding stresses I left behind five months ago. Budgets, organising food, accommodation for people not local and the idea that I'm bringing a family from London (used to the London lifestyle (Grandparent, In-laws, Aunts, Uncles, and Cousins) to the rural life of Idaho where big shopping means a trip to the local Wal-mart.  I know everyone is excited that the prospect of seeing mountains, a trip to Yellowstone and of course the celebration of Sudheer and I tying the knot, but I have to wonder is everyone going to be bored with the Idaho way of life?  Anyone who has been to the UK especially London knows that life here is just different, its fast paced and you pretty much have the world at your finger tips.  I still haven't fully adjusted and I've lived here for six months.
To top it off I am also finally organising the shipping of all my belongings from Idaho to the UK. EIN numbers, insurance, packing lists, oh the endless fun.
All I can is, I hope the reception will go well and everyone will get along. Hopefully my dress will fit and I can figure out how to do my makeup by myself. The food won't be what the UK family is used to (we had a full meal including drinks and hors d'oeuvres, but those from Idaho will know what to expect (cake, punch, and nibbles) but hopefully everyone just enjoys being together.

The Humble Potato

I'm from Idaho so I know a thing or two about potatoes. My grandfather was a foreman of a farm for decades, where they grew potatoes.  I joke with my new family here in the UK that potatoes run through my veins and I need at least a weekly intake so I don't die! (A bit melodramatic I know.)
Growing up, potatoes were served at least once a day in our household.  Mostly because my mother and aunt who worked at a potato warehouse received a free 10 lbs bag of potatoes each payday.  So we had 20 lbs of potatoes to use every 2 weeks.  Thanks to my mothers ingenuity and the constant supply of potatoes even in the tough times we didn't go hungry.  Maybe got a bit bored with the diet of potatoes and bologna but there was always at least one meal on the table each day.  Bless my mother and her amazing ability to turn the potato into a million different things. Sure we had the usual: baked, fried, and mashed.  But when the pantry allowed she unleashed her creativity and we had things like colcannon, potato soup (Nana's secret recipe), potato au gratin, scalloped potatoes, potato bread, gnocchi, potato hash, potato pancakes made from leftover baked potatoes, and more. My mother's potato repertoire was endless.  She kept us alive on potatoes, and even though I've probably eaten my weight in potatoes at least 100 times over I still love them.
It wasn't just my household that revolved around potatoes, my grandparents were very much meat and potatoes people.  Of course being a foreman of a potato farm leads

to a lot of free potatoes so my grandmother put all those potatoes to good use. I remember many a meal at my gram's house consisting of meat, fried potatoes, and a side of veg and I loved it every time.  When I stayed with my great grandmother to keep her company and look after her the potato diet continued, my favourite of hers being hash browns and potato soup.  She made the most wonderful hash browns. Golden and crispy on the outside and soft and fluffy inside. Never clumpy or greasy, just potato perfection.  My Nana's potato soup will forever be my absolute favourite of all time and nothing compares to it. It is also a guarded secret family recipe.  I remember when Nana and I would do our monthly shopping trip to the local Kmart we would almost always stop into the cafe for lunch and I would always have the same thing, mashed potatoes and gravy.  So you can see that my love of the potato is deeply rooted.
Lucky for me I moved to another country where the potato also plays a big role.  Enter the British potato, lovely baked ((known as a jacket potato here) with filling such as baked beans and cheese, coronation chicken,  tikka masala, and on it goes), roasted potatoes so crispy on the outside and deliciously soft and fluffy inside served with Sunday roast, the occasional mashed, but on the top of the list is the chip.  Oh the chip shop chip! The fact that there is something even called a chip shop (aka chippy) should tell you something. British chips are; well; they are amazing!!! If your American, take everything you think you know about the chip (known there as a french fry) and toss it out the window.  I'm not talking about McDonald's, Wendy's, or any of those fast food versions that sell over processed, mashed potatoes formed to look like a stick, I'm talking about real potatoes cut fresh and fried.  Back home there are only two places that I know of that have a fighting chance against the British chip; Five Guys and Tastee Treat. Both delicious, but there is just something about the British chip.  Not overly greasy, perfectly crispy on the outside, fluffy inside, scooped onto a piece of paper sprinkled with salt and wrapped tightly.  You can also get them in a paper cone of chips with a wooden fork and eat them then and there.  One of my favourite treats is fish and chips from our local chippy. Due to allergies I get my fish grilled rather than deep fried but come on lets face it, the meal is mostly about the chips.
I've been craving chips for nearly a week now and I'm fairly certain I'm going to cave soon (especially after writing this post). Luckily I had potatoes last night in the form of gobi aloo so I have some potatoes coursing though my veins and I'm not at risk from potato withdrawals for the next 48 to 72 hours.

My Super Power

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Green Lantern,  Spiderman, Captain America, do you see where I'm going with this? If not, did you even read the title? Its about super powers!
Everyone wishes they had a superpower right? I know I did, I wanted to be able to fly, read minds, or walk through walls.  I even remember as a child having dreams that I could fly. Granted it was after playing too much Super Mario Bros III and I had a raccoon tail in my dreams but it was still flying.
As an adult the wish for a super power slowly faded and I had more realistic dreams, a great job that pays well, buying a house, getting married. The list goes on.
In the past few months though a super power has finally started to emerge.  I don't remember being bitten by a radio active spider or swimming in some purple ooze but who knows I did sleep walk as a child.  My power is the ability to make people disappear! Ok its not as fantastic as you might think, its actually just making people leave the room.  I'm not even sure how I do it.  Is it body odor? I shower everyday and always remember to use antiperspirant and wear clean clothes.  Do I suck all the fun from a room and people have to escape?
In reality it is likely coincidence and people leave to go upstairs because they already had the idea to do so before I walked into the room.  But while I make my transition into British life I can't help but be over sensitive to the smallest of things. I know it will pass and if not then at least I finally have a superpower.

Love, Marriage, and the 1950s

When I announced to my family I was engaged, I got more congratulations and "we're so proud of you" than I ever received in my life.  Even more than when I graduated with an MA from a British University, or became Assistant Director of a museum.  I'm not saying no one cared about those accomplishments because they did, it just seems as if my engagement brought more happiness than previous accomplishments.  So was getting engaged an accomplishment? I guess at my age and in my particular culture (living behind the Mormon curtain) it was a big accomplishment.  At 37 I was well past my prime of marriage and I'm fairly certain that the majority of my family figured I would spend the rest of my life with a roommate and a house full of cats.  I'm not going to lie I had begun to have doubts myself.  I remember at my brothers wedding standing in the receiving line and every person that came though asked me if I was next. I was in my 20s at the time so there was still hope.  As time marched on the question became less and less frequent, people had given up on the idea that I would ever get married. 

There was a distinct pattern in my hometown of St. Anthony: graduate high school, go to the local college - Ricks College (now Brigham Young University Idaho), date a return missionary, get married, happily ever after.  Maybe my first mistake was not going to Ricks College, I went to Lewis in Clark State College in Northern Idaho where I quickly found out that the profession I should always do was not the one I wanted (elementary school teacher).  I returned a year later and a year after that moved to Pocatello I attend Idaho State University.  I graduation with a BA in Anthropology, my mum, grandparents, uncle Chris, and Aunt Barbara were there to celebrate with me. It was a proud moment for me, one of my proudest, I was the first other than an aunt to have attended and graduate college. By this time I was 21 and still unmarried (gasp!) but maybe there was still hope?

I should mention that the male population of my previous home (Pocatello) had taken no interest in me. Females aren't supposed to make the first move where I'm from, you wait for the guy to ask you out.  You date for a short period (usually a year or less) and then your married and producing offspring. Through my 20s I worked hard, had adventures and enjoyed life, but still no men ever took interest in me.  I was the overweight female friend that guys talked to in order to get to know my skinny attractive friends.  I saw friend after friend date and marry. 

I entered my 30s and submitted to the idea that I would be single forever, so I decided I should focus on a career 100%.  I applied for a MA program at the University of Kent and set off to find myself and further my career.  Imagine my surprise when not even a month into my program and a guy was interested in me. Me! The fat friend! He didn't talk to me to get to my skinny beautiful friends he wanted to get to know me! I was awkward and still unsure that it was real and ended up pushing him away (if you ask him, he will tell you the story of his rejection!) What he didn't understand was that guys never took interest in me for me. I had been taken aback and didn't know how to respond. Besides I had moved to the UK so that I could get a degree, I hadn't planned on falling in love.

But I constantly thought about him, what might have been, and the sadness I felt that I had "rejected" him.  Its not that we didn't see each other because we did, we had the same circle of friends after all and lived in the same University complex. We became friends and spoke now and again, but I always regretted it hadn't become anything more.  University ended and my roommate and I moved to a little house in Wincheap. I got a job at the Cathedral and she got a night job at Sainsburys.  Life went on.  Imagine my surprise when I walked into a friends house and found that same man sitting there on the sofa.  I couldn't stop smiling and we spent the evening talking, laughing, and dancing.  He offered if I ever wanted to get out of Canterbury that I could come to Croydon and spend the day with him.  I decided this time to ignore the fear and take him up on his offer.  A week later I was on a train to Croydon and he met me at the station.  It was an awkward greeting neither of us knowing wether to hug, kiss on the cheek, or shake hands.  It ended up as a half hug/kiss on the cheek.  We had lunch in the pub, and went to the cinema. After we went back to the pub for a drink and he walked me back to the train station. As we walked back to the station he took his hand in mine and the butterflies in my stomach kicked up again and I smiled, he was a hand holder.  Long story short, we fell in love and on 13 March 2017 we were married.

Five and a bit months into marriage and I'm wondering what is a good wife?  

In 1956 a good wife did the following:

Like I said when I announced my engagement my world told me that becoming a wife was the most important thing I had ever done.  So now my quest is: What is a good wife? Should I be doing my husbands laundry for him? Making dinner every night? This part is a bit complicated as we currently live with his parents and older brother and his wife.

It’s a conundrum for sure.

Who should I be looking up to? Who are the modern wives we should model our lives after? Melania Trump? Kim Kardashian? Hillary Clinton? Lord I hope not!  

Marriage is a partnership right? Its full of ups, down, and a lot of confusion.  I've only been married for 5 months and I'm still grappling with the question of how to a wife. 

Here’s what I came up with:

Make where you live a place you want to be.  Do it because it makes the both of you happy and you want to spend time in your home together. For us, its not the whole house but a bedroom. It is our sanctuary where we relax, where we organize our lives. We curl up together to watch a film or spend our time doing that tedious life admin stuff.  

Don't try and control everything.  Let your husband be the one to plan things.  I love it when Sudheer decides we are going to go on an adventure for the day and won't tell me where we are going. He pretends he want to top up my oyster card for the following week and then leads me down the ramp and onto a waiting train.  While it makes me a tiny bit anxious the sheer joy and anticipation of adventuring with my love surpasses the anxiety. 

Modal Trigger

Leave the nagging to someone else.  His boss nags him at work, parents nagged him when he was a kid.  I'm a bit of a control freak, I like the room clean, things put away and order rather than chaos.  So yes I get a bit freaked out when clothes aren't in the hamper or there are a pile of papers on the desk. But I am trying to let it go and not nag.

Make him feel needed. We all want to feel needed, I know I can take care of myself I've done it for decades, but one of the great things about being married is I don't have to do it on my own anymore. I'm part of a team.  This is one of the hardest things for me to overcome. I have looked after myself and others for so long I don't know how to let someone look after me, but I'm trying.

Marriage comes first.  Yes by all means have a career and friends that you see you need that, but marriage is important too. Make time to enjoy time with each other. Go away on a romantic weekend here and there. Just because you said I do doesn't mean the romance has to die.  Make an effort to put your marriage first.  

Say I love you and thank you often.  I have the most amazing husband, he is supportive and kind.  I try to tell him I love you every chance I get and when he goes out of his way to get me something I have been eyeing I always say thank you. I don't say it because I feel I have to. I tell him thank you because I want him to genuinely know that I appreciate everything he does for me. 

I'm not the 1950s wife. I don't wear and apron, I don't stand by the door with a drink in hand waiting for him to get home, I don't iron his clothes for work and I don't offer to take off his shoes for him.

I'm still finding myself as a wife just as he's finding himself as a husband, but we're doing it together.  In this day and age, getting married isn't the accomplishment, staying happy and married is.  I know we will have our arguments, and disagreements. There will be times when things aren't perfect and lovely but it said in the vows in good times and in bad. We will weather any storm that life brings our way.  It took almost 40 years to find my soul mate, I don't plan on letting him go anytime soon.

To My Younger Self

If I had a time machine and could go back to any point in my life for a "do over" when would that be? A couple of pinnacle points definitely come to mind.  High school comes to mind, I was such an awkward teen, but then again weren't we all? I would of course want the mind I have now, and I would try to participate in more things, instead of being that invisible wall flower that the world passed by. I'd have studied harder, tried out for more plays, solos in the choir, maybe even sports. I'd have actually listened to my teachers when they tried to give life advice instead of rolling my eyes and wondering if I could ever be as "old" as they seemed.
I would go back to the day my grandfather passed away and booked a flight home to be with family instead of having to deal with it on my own. (It was a complicated time).
I would go back to the moment before I pushed my brother down the stairs dislocating his shoulder and tell myself not to do it.
So many little things in life I would change, but then I wonder how would it affect the present me?
In reality I wouldn't go back to change anything specifically after all, each moment of my life has shaped the present me. What I would do however is go back and talk to my 25 year old self.  At 25 I still didn't know what I wanted to do with my life (I had ideas, I just didn't know how to get there), didn't think I would ever get married (thanks for that mormon culture), and was barely scraping by in life.
I don't think the 25 year old me would even recognise the now almost 40 (GASP!) year old me.  This is what I would say.....
Don't settle, your better than you think you are, and stop listening to that voice inside your head telling you that you can't do things. You can! One day you will go to England and get a masters degree, you will make friends who become sisters from all over the world.  One day you will be married and living in London, one day your career will take off.  Yes there are going to be bumps along the way and heartache that you must endure, but these things will make you stronger.  Take time now and spend it with family, especially your grandparents one day they will be gone and you will miss them. Don't worry so much about taking care of everyone else, its ok to sometimes be a little selfish and want something for yourself.  Get healthy now! Don't make me do it when I'm almost 40.  Eat more veg and less pizza and for the love of all that is holy stop eating so many gummy bears! Enjoy life, laugh when you can, cry when your sad, be happy.  Life has a lot to offer but only if you reach out and grab it, don't let it pass you by.