Linus' First Artwork

Now that Linus is 9 months old, I figured we should start exploring his talents. Will he be a future Picasso or Rembrandt? It's possible. Both my mom and my G'ma are very artistically gifted. At any rate, I thought we'd give art a shot. (Fine. It's mostly because there is a chance to win something super-cute and cool...)

I figured I'd get things started for him. (Ok, I really enjoy coloring. It's strangely relaxing.) I figured his prowess might need some help, so I did some basics with the six colors I had available.

I mind-melded with Linus to share thoughts about this picture and what it means to him. Together, we envisioned, what will be our first and most frequent travel destination. We're hoping to do a grand tour of Texas in the near future. We need to hit Houston (obviously to see the doting grandparents), Dallas (to see my old friends), and San Antonio (so The Line can meet those great-grandparents he's been hearing so much about!). In my head a refer to it as The Grand Tour of Texas.

Get your picture here.

Linus says that this trip will be awesome and he'll be super-well behaved on the flight. He will give Grandma and Grandpa lots of kisses and cuddles. He will be so happy to sit on Great-Grandma and Great-Papa's laps. He's very much looking forward to playing with Wyatt and George, his cousins. Linus says he'd back his Skoot suitcase with his duck lovey, some rad outfits, and of course a few hats. Mommy suggested that we should probably also bring his white noise machine to help him sleep at night. As you can see, the suitcase is empty for now. I think he might be a last minute packer like his Grandpa.

Linus took the purple crayon and I managed to get a couple of small scribbles out of him before the crayon went into his mouth. I tried to redirect with no luck. I decided to give paint a try. I pulled out some washable non-toxic paint and a brush. He put a few wild dobs on the picture before looking dangerously close to flinging and/or eating the brush. I wrestled the brush from his grasp and he grabbed the paper to crumple then attempt to eat it. I pried it away, but left the tell-tale crumple marks for authenticity.

What do y'all think? Is my baby the next great artist of his generation? (Either way, hopefully he'll have a sweet ride-on suitcase for when we take a trip!)

Word of the Week

wadingpaddling

I'd like to be beside the sea.

Definition: walking through or frolicking in shallow water

Used in a sentence: We watched a TV show about the French Rivera the other day and I made Ross promise me that someday we'd take Linus wadingpaddling there.

I'm back

Sorry for the absence readers. We were in Suffolk helping out Ross' uncle who had his kneecap replaced. The internet access was super-spotty and I didn't have much time for posting. Uncle Jeff is on the mend and we're settled in back at home now, so I should be able to get back on schedule.

Linus on Uncle Jeff's washing line

I've got quite a few things to talk to you about. I'll try to mix up baby stuff with non-baby stuff. Hopefully, it will all be interesting. 

I'll leave you with this. I recently realized that Ross and I put on over-the-head-shirts (like t-shirts) differently! He puts his head in first, while I start with my arms (right first usually). Crazy, right? Will our marriage be able to withstand this?! Do you do it like Ross, or the right way? ;)

Better than throwing darts at a map.

Yesterday was Ross' birthday. To celebrate, we went to Wales. Ross tried to tell me that it counted as "going abroad", but I wasn't fooled! It was a nice little trip and Linus' first time to spend the night away from home since he came home from the hospital.

Ross has a strange thing about going out of town for birthdays. Since I've lived here we have always gone somewhere for our birthdays, and have developed an interesting way of picking where we go for Ross'.

2010 in the Lake District/Ulverston

2011 in Blackpool

2012 in Caerphilly

Any guesses?

I'll give you a hint:

with Stan & Ollie

with Les Dawson

with Tommy Cooper

Yep. We go somewhere that has a statue of a comedian. Ross is a bit of a comedy historian and it's a been a pretty good way to pick a place to go. The only real problem with this year's trip was the shocking lack of Caerphilly cheese available in Caerphilly! Ross was very excited to get some, but there was none to be found. How very disappointing! It turns out that more Caerphilly cheese is now made in Lancashire.

Here's the birthday boy with his pride and joy.

Don't worry, we weren't letting Linus drive.  

This is while we were stopped at The Services on the way home.

So does anyone have a nomination for next year's trip/statue location?

An inconvenient trip

Back in July of 2008, I was stressed.  I'd made plans to attend an improv comedy conference in Portland, Oregon earlier in the year.  I also found myself moving into a new apartment.  The move was scheduled for the day after I returned home from the conference.  I was still sort of looking forward to the trip, but the move was taking the majority of my attention.  I'd packed all my things prior to leaving, and headed to Portland without any expectations of what would happen there.  I told myself that the trip was going to be an inconvenience and that if I'd known I would be moving, I wouldn't have gone.  Little did I know, it was the most important trip I'd ever take.

The conference turned out to be really fun.  It was a great stress reliever and I had a good time.  I mean, what else can you expect from a conference full of improvisational comedians?!  As the week went on, I met lots of people.  I met people who were outrageously funny, completely irritating, totally fascinating, and then some that didn't catch my attention at all.

The last night of the conference, whilst standing in an alley, one of those people that hadn't caught my attention leaned in for a quick kiss.  I pulled back, embarrassed to be caught unaware.  Smooched by a stranger in public!  This stranger and I went for a walk around downtown Portland.  We awkwardly made our way in loops and circles in a town unfamiliar to us both.  I'm not sure if we held hands.  I know we talked.  And talked.  And talked.  We talked about his life back in England.   The big things: that his sister and parents were dead.  The little things:  he spoke French and a bit of Italian.  I told him about my life in Dallas, my family and job and other stuff I don't really remember that was just chatter to fill the air.  We walked and talked for what seemed like hours.  I knew when we stopped we'd kiss again and I was so nervous that I both couldn't wait and was trying to prolong it as much as possible.

Eventually we did kiss.  And, oh those kisses!  Those kisses were filled with magic.

The next morning, this British stranger came back to my hotel room and took me for coffee at Starbucks.  I had a Chai Tea Latte.  He had a black coffee.  We talked some more.  I told him that I made a really killer Chicken Pot Pie, not knowing he was a vegetarian.  He asked me to go back to Manchester with him that very day.  I laughed and declined, thinking I'd never see him again.  He gave me his card and kissed me goodbye when my ride to the airport showed up.

As I buckled my seat belt to fly back to Dallas and move to a new apartment, a text message came through on my phone.  This stranger had been very sneaky!  The message said how much he'd enjoyed meeting me.  I smiled a big, cheesy grin.  I thought how much fun my little romance had been.  I still thought I'd never see him again.

Today, that stranger is sitting at our dining table doing some work.  I'm sitting on our couch with pictures from our wedding on the wall behind me.  I'm supposed to be resting because I'm about 6 weeks away from bringing our first child into the world.  This man is not a stranger any more.  And he's certainly caught my attention now.

And all because I took a trip that was highly inconvenient.


This post is an entry into Thomas Cook's "Write and Win a Kindle" Contest.  If you'd like to enter, you can too!
(But do it quick because the contest ends today...)

Word of the Week

CaravanRV

Supa swanky!

Definition:  a mobile camper equipped with living facilities of various levels of awesomeness

Used in a sentence:   I really can't imagine touring around in a caravanRV for our retirement, but some of them are pretty cool.

Family History

Before I went on vacation I promised y'all some cool family tree stuff.  I already told you guys some interesting family history about my mom's side of the family.  This time, it's about my dad's side!

Our recent trip was with my dad's side of the family in celebration of my Grandmother's 85th birthday.  My dad is the eldest of four siblings, 3 of which were able to come on the trip.  New England and Canada were gorgeous in mid-September and we had a wonderful relaxing time.

Being that my dad's family is from New Orleans, it's no surprise that there are historical connections to French Canada.  At the first stop the cruise ship made, we were able to take a tour of historical (or as the family likes to call them "hysterical") sites related to the family.

Dad rented a car and our immediate family set out from Quebec City.  Our first stop was a monument which commemorated the landing of the 2 brothers who emigrated from France.  We drove up and down a stretch of road, eyes peeled.  Along the way we saw plenty of lovely, charming houses and enjoyed the gorgeous terrain.  After looping back, thinking we'd missed it and then starting to think that the monument wasn't around any more because of all the recent property development, we finally spotted it!

The giant sign and the monument on the right.

The family.  The plaque on the bottom explains that the monument was originally located elsewhere

and was moved.  Apparently there was some controversy over the exact location of the brothers' landing.

We thought it was hilarious that, not only is there a monument, but the sign for the monument is actually bigger than the monument itself.  Clearly someone thinks our family is worthy of note!

My dad's research revealed that Jacques, the brother who is my 9th (I think?) great-grandfather, married a woman named Elizabeth Salle.  Now this is the cool part.  Elizabeth was what is known as a "fille du roi".  Now before you get all excited, that doesn't translate literally.  She was not an actual daughter of the king of France.  (For a minute I thought all those times dad called me "Princess" were true!)  Because there were so many more men in Canada than women, the King did his part to help grow the population of the new colony by sending boat loads of women.  These young girls (age 12-25) made the treacherous journey across the ocean with a King-supplied dowry of 50 livres and orders to find a man to marry ASAP!  Can you imagine?

Legend has it that the women in Quebec City claim to be the most beautiful in Canada because it was the first port of call for the ships bearing filles du roi.  This means that the women who married and stayed there were the first choice ladies.  I knew there was a reason for my stunning good looks :)

From there, we headed on to see other sites of historical significance to our family.

My parents in front of the final house that Jacques lived in before his death.

It's actually still lived in today!  How cool is that?!

The plaque by the front door.

The church where Jacques and Elisabeth were married.

Well not actually the church.  The original wooden one burnt down, but this replacement is still really old.

It was kind of cool to know that our whole family started here and that I was carrying the next generation!

We also stopped at a mill that was related somehow to the family.  It is now a museum.  Some of the museum related to the history to the area, but large parts of it were modern art.  The curator got very excited when we told him that our family was affiliated with the mill and took his time explaining how the relationship would have worked.  It turns out that our ancestor would have been a tenant farmer who was obligated to use the mill to process his crops.  He would then pay a percentage of the proceeds from the crops to the owner of the mill.

The mill.

A chart, in French, which explains the hierarchy of the mill.

If you could look close enough, my maiden name is on it... without the final "T" and "E".

Apparently the spelling changed at some point.

We finished off the day with a delicious lunch at a local cafe.  It was clear that they didn't get many tourists by the waitresses reaction to our English-speaking ways.  Several of us spoke enough French to translate the menu effectively though!

As a fun closing note, the cross street for the cafe had my great x9 grandmother's last name!

It was a great day full of family and laughter!

Have you ever found out anything interesting about your family history?

Meg and Ross and the Case of the Mockaroon

Ross LOVES macaroons.  No, not the trendy french cookies that are all over the wedding blogosphere.

Fancy Macaroons

It can also be spelled macaron.  They're supposed to be heavenly, but I've never actually tried one.

The ones made of shredded coconut.

Delicious fluffy bites of yum.

There's a Christmas market that sets up around Manchester town centre during the holiday season.  There are all these cute little wooden cottage stalls that sell crafty products and food.  It's really fun and crowded and cheerful feeling.

See- crowded!

(Personal photos)

See- cheerful!  I was dancing to the music of a band playing nearby.

(Personal photo)

One of the stalls sells "The World's Best Macaroons".  They ain't lyin'!  These things are huge and warm out of the oven.  They are light and fluffy and the best thing ever.  They are probably Ross' favourite thing about the Christmas season.

At any rate, he is generally on the hunt for competition to this self-proclaimed "World's Best" of his favourite treat.  There are plenty of crappy ones out there.  Ones that are sticky and hard or too dense.  Many are discounted on sight.

When we were recently in Boston though, we were wandering around the Quincy Market and stumbled across two contenders that merited tasting.  We opted to sample one of the stalls offerings as a pre-dinner snack.  It was very nice.  VERY nice.  Ross and I deemed it a fairly close 2nd in the "Best Macaroon in the World" competition.  

We decided that after we'd eaten dinner we would return to the market and try the other one.  We got very excited about the prospect of three strong contenders in this race.  That's normal, right?  Well we walked and explored the market and then found some place for dinner along the harbour.  It was a lovely night for a stroll.  

After we'd eaten, we headed back to the market, which seemed to still be hoping.  We walked inside and what did we see?

Why would they deprive a pregnant lady of a potentially

delicious macaroon comparing experience?!!?

The second bakery stall was already closed for the night.  Harumph!  It was very upsetting as you can see.  We were forced to go back to the first bakery stall where Ross obtained another macaroon.  I opted to go for a giant oatmeal chocolate chip cookie.  Mmmmm.

Well the next day, as we walked The Freedom Trail,

The Freedom Trail as it enters The North End.

(Personal Photo)

we entered Ross' own personal Mecca- The North End (aka Little Italy).  Before we left the area, Ross was planning our next trip to Boston which involves eating at every Italian restaurant in the vicinity.  We guessed it would take about a month.  We noticed lots of people with little white boxes, tied up with string.  We figured it was worth popping into this (apparently very) popular bakery.

As we looked at the offerings, what did we spy but a tray of pretty little white macaroons.  We asked for 4 macaroons and headed outside to eat them.  They felt light and fluffy... promising...  We each took a cookie and bit in.  And they were... not macaroons.  As Ross put it, "These don't taste like they've been anywhere near a coconut."  They were nice I guess.  They were sort of almond/marzipan tasting.  So disappointing!

Ross dubbed them "fake-aroons".  I (in my opinion) one-uped him by declaring that they were, in fact, MOCK-AROONS.  (Am I right?!  So much funnier... Ross still claims that "fakearoon" is better.)

Have you ever gone on a ridiculous quest for something?
Have you ever been thwarted by a baked good?
And most importantly, which is funnier "fakearoon" or "mockaroon"?

I'm back!

Hi y'all!
We landed back in the UK yesterday morning and I think I'm stumbling out of my jet-lag haze now.
I have to say that international pregnant travel wasn't as bad as I was secretly fearing it would be!  Huzzah!
I think the timing of the trip helped, as I have generally entered the stage of pregnancy where I feel really good.  Is it tempting fate to say that I kind of dig being pregnant?  Maybe I'm just in the early 2nd trimester honeymoon stage...
I've got lots to tell you about, but for now I will leave you with a picture of me at the Anne of Green Gables house on Prince Edward Island.  The grounds and weather were absolutely gorgeous and it is the first picture I saw where I though "Holy crap!  I look pregnant."

PregMeg (my new nickname from Ross)

So in talking with other people, I've found that most people disagree with me...
I always think that going from the US to the UK is harder (jet-lag wise).
What do you think?