Imagine dumping a mountain of flour into a bowl then pouring a pot of water over it . . . then handing that bowl to three three-year-olds . . . in your living room. Doesn’t sound like a smart move, does it? Yet I did that very thing last week, with only a plastic tablecloth separating my rented living room floor from complete disaster.
Am I very brave, or very stupid?
On second thought, don’t answer that.
We spent the weekend in Leigh-on-Sea, Essex, with my husband’s friend Donna and her daughter. My sons, having listened to years of Madonna music and heard about my trek to Madonna’s concert in Wembley Stadium two weeks ago, kept confusing our host’s name with Madonna’s, asking all through their first train ride ever, “Are we almost at Madonna’s house?” Now wouldn’t that make for an interesting blog entry? Read More…
The Scary Guy says every person needs sixteen hugs a day “to be normal.” He learned that while watching news coverage of a scientific study and immediately incorporated it into his program. What is his program? Simply ‘The Total Elimination of Hate, Violence and Prejudice Worldwide.”
Since 1998, The Scary Guy (his legal name) has worked with 7 million people worldwide promoting peace through the teaching of Read More…
It’s not often you find yourself surrounded by fifty-three baby elephants. But that’s exactly what happened when we Halversons spontaneously hopped a public bus for a visit to bustling city of Norwich, England, just fifty minutes from our temporary home in Lowestoft.
When we targeted Norwch, we were unaware that that the city was Read More…
This weekend, we journeyed to the 34th Grand Henham Steam Rally in Henham Park near Southwold, Suffolk. The website for the event has the lovely line “by kind permission of the Sixth Earl of Stradbroke.” Isn’t that the coolest? A similar event in the States would have a line more like “sponsored by PetCo.” Not quite as quaint.
We used a footpath from the main road to get there . . . and spent half an hour hiking over hill and under dale to find the steam rally, fully expecting Read More…
There are few things more knee-buckling to a mother of three-year-old triplets than suddenly realizing that all three of her beloved offspring are in “one of their moods” at the same time. I felt my knees go weak about 6 a.m. this morning.
The instant I woke up, I was greeted by the “Clingy Whiner,” “Mr. Defiant,” and “The Hyper Tackler.” Knowing I’d have better chances at a passable morning if I got the boys out of the house and into an adventure, I strategized a morning that would get us fed, dressed, and out the door in perfect time to could catch the 9:27 bus at the corner. Read More…
Wembley Stadium takes “nosebleed seats” to a whole new level. Or rather, to a higher one.
Last week, I journeyed—and I do mean journeyed—to London’s Wembley Stadium for Madonna’s Sticky & Sweet Concert Tour. It was my third Madonna concert. My first was also Madge’s first, back in 1985 when I was fourteen years old and had won eleventh row tickets to her Like a Virgin concert in San Diego State University’s Open Air Theater. The OAT seats 4,600; Wembley seats 90,000. This time, I didn’t have eleventh row seats. Instead, I was in the upper deck, a couple dozen rows from the last row. Which in Wembley Stadium means that Madonna was a mere speck on the stage. I’m not exaggerating! I lost her amidst her dancers several times a minute. If it weren’t for the humongous video screens on either side of the stage, I could’ve been watching John McCain writhing around the stage to “Give It To Me” and not known it. No way the Brits can follow a soccer ball from that high in Wembley. NO. WAY. Read More…
It pays to be on friendly terms with your neighborhood co-op grocery cashier. She’s the one who told me to take the boys crabbing in Walberswick. She’s now my best friend. Crabbing rocks!
Walberswick is the home of the British Open Crabbing Championship every August. We missed the championship, but that didn’t stop us from hopping a #99 double-decker and heading south with visions of bucketloads of crabs in our minds. Read More…
When was the last time your mommy carried you in her arms? Bet you don’t remember. I wonder if she remembers? There was a last time, though. There always is.
I dread that day.
When my boys were about six weeks old, I was lounging on the sofa with all three of them Read More…
Grandma and Grandpa, you’d better visit us in England during our stay, because we just bought you tram tickets. And trolley bus tickets and miniature train tickets, too. And every one of those tickets is for unlimited rides, all on restored/preserved vehicles at the East Anglia Transport Museum. Does it get any cooler than that? The boys have even picked out the seats you will grace on each ride. Hear that, Grandma and Grandpa? These gracious young hosts will make sure you ride until your legs go numb.
If you need further enticement, Read More…
I “lost” a copy of BIG MOUTH in the Los Angeles International Airport the day my family boarded our flight to London. Not only was that book found, it has been taken on holiday to Italy by a reader named Cristina. (Read Cristina’s email to me on my “Where in the World . . . ?” website.)
Cristina tells me that the book is on the shores of Italy’s Lake Garda at this very moment. I may be of Italian ancestry, but I must admit Read More…
Last night, a high-speed police chase ended abruptly against a tree next to our front window. We were sitting in the living room at the time, all five of us, when we heard a screech, jumped to our feet, and turned our heads just in time to see the red sedan smash into the tree. Had our lawn been treeless, that car would’ve crashed into the living room wall right behind us.
Then, as we stood there with “Did a car just crash into our tree?” bouncing around our disbelieving heads, the driver’s door swung open and a guy jumped out and launched himself Read More…
Last January I founded the “Halverson PRE-Preschool” in an optimistic bid to homepreschool my triplets. As my husband works through his first week of teaching in Lowestoft, England, I figure its time for a progress report on our three pre-preschoolers. I guess I’ll take it subject by subject… Read More…
An electrician in our Lowestoft rental the other day gave me pause. It was 8:30 a.m. and I had just asked him when he expected to be done with his work. He rubbed his hands together, looked thoughtfully at the ceiling for a moment, then answered. “After supper, I’d say.”
I waited for him to crack a smile and say, “Nah, just kidding.” But he didn’t. He turned and went back to his work. This man would be pounding holes into my walls and running cables through my ceilings all day? Then it occurred to me—we’re in England. They don’t speak my kind of English here. Read More…
You’ve heard of piggy banks? Well, the Halverson boys have a gingerbread man bank. No, it’s not shaped like a gingerbread man (although it should be); it is for gingerbread men.
My sons are saving up their pence for the gingerbread men baked by the local bakery. They love those gingerbread men. Sometimes, there are gingerbread dogs, too. Those are even better. Read More…