This is the only non-British song I have on my England playlist, although I downloaded the original. This had a more interesting video.

Did you know that Verizon doesn't work at all in England? I will be relatively incommunicado, which I think will be delightful.

As for blessings in disguise, I will be using money from the basement flood to spend in England, which will be more relaxing since Suburban Scene canned me and I have no deadlines to meet or ad accounts to sweat. Seemed bad at the time, but I am grateful now.

My ten year old just says whatever pops into her mind.

A couple days ago, in my lap, she put both hands by the part in my hair and bent my head down so she could get a closer look.
"Mommy," she nearly gasped, "do you dye your hair?"
"Yes I do."
"Do you dye your roots?" she asked with instructive ridicule.
I explained how dye jobs grow out, exposing undyed roots.
"Well, there's gray in there!" she pointed out with restrained alarm.

You should see my new hairdo. I told my beloved, tattooed, alpaca-farming hairdresser that I was bored of my hair. I'm certainly not now! I'm sure you'll catch a glimpse of it on Mark's blog next week.


Last month, my ten year old asked my ex-husband and my boyfriend if they were going to arm wrestle. No sense ignoring an elephant in the room.

I'm planning a trip to London with my kids & Mark & his daughter. I am going to create an England playlist on my iPod. What must I include?

At the end of this past school year, I accompanied my son's 7th grade class to the Newseum in DC. It is the newest museum in town and it is about the history of the news. I raised my hand to volunteer quickly for this new field trip destination.

The first exhibit that my group entered was about Pulitzer Prize photography. One wall was covered with small copies all of the winners. The gallery was lined with dozens of them blown up with more explanation by the shot. Built right into the exhibit were several stations with tissues near benches.

All the natural chatter of 25 thirteen year olds enjoying a field trip stopped. They slowed down, stopping here and there with their mouths open. I passed one group looking at a photo of public torture in Southeast Asia.






"Why?" one boy asked "Why would anyone ever do that?"
Another boy, pointing to the crowd in the photo asked, "And what kind of person would laugh?"
I told them that torture as a public spectacle was ancient and even entertaining like today's horror movies.
The first boy startled at that comparison and insisted, "No. This is real. This is different."


Although I didn't get to see the entire museum, the kids were equally somber at the 9/11 exhibit and amazed at the memorial to slain journalists. The section of the Berlin Wall seemed to excite them, perhaps because the defiance in the graffiti was triumphant. The 4-D movie theater was delightfully freaky. It was as fun to watch the audience as take in the show. Great view from the Terrace too.

I hate calling my children's friends' parents and telling them that their child probably needs stitches to a head wound incurred at my home.
The first was Just Me's son, blood spurting from the back of his head.
The next, Anne's daughter. "Ms. Ann, I think I cut myself. Is it bleeding?"
(aaahhhh! I hate trying to be the calm adult in these situations.)

My son is now traveling with recently mitzvahed buddy to sit with him while he gets probably only a couple of stitches over his eye. At least this injury was calm. If it leaves a scar it probably won't even be that bad.

Do you have any good childhood scars? (Not the emotional kind)