Poops

It finds me wherever I go. Today it found its way onto my eyelashes and eyebrows, and even into my "bangs" (in parentheses because I did not cut them but they grew in after my hormones stopped raging post-breastfeeding). (Which reminds me that I think my hormones have stopped altogether. And some of you can go on and on about how that's not possible but I'm not really talking science here. Think about the figurative meaning.)

At least that was my baby's poops. I find goose poops in my flat sometimes, remnants from the Gardens that have made their way into my home via the stroller ("pushchair"). I almost ran straight over some dog poops on the sidewalk ("pavement") today.

One thing you can't say about London is that it's clean. And my family sure isn't adding to the sterility, by any means.

But we do recycle!!

Five gold stars and two blue ribbons later, it's still poops.

Poops.

I am so starving vs. I am so starving

I don't know if anyone remembers that "Point-Counterpoint" from The Onion a few years ago, but it was hysterical. A picky-eating, pseudo-anorexic teenage girl vs. a kid from Subsaharan Africa who really was starving and crawled 100 miles for a handful of millet. It made me laugh then. I should be more sober about it these days.

I am complaining because in order to live in our ridiculously expensive, tiny flat in west London, we are having to cut back on things like food and drink, when we've already been pinching every last bit we thought we could. We're not just eating generic at this point; we're actually having to ration. But so what? At least we're not scouring our pots with sand and brushing our teeth with salt, like the Zimbabweans are in Harare. I read about this yesterday on cnn.com. It's painful. And Mark says we don't have enough money to have another baby, when people in Zimbabwe seriously don't to the point they're having backstreet abortions ... or merely flushing newborns down the toilet.

Sorry for the graphic thoughts.

Onward and upward: we'll eat tuna sandwiches every night. And love every minute of it because we have each other and a roof over our heads and food on the table, just like my parents used to guilt-trip us with when we were kids.

(And helloooooooooo, Gwynnie!)

You can't get away with this everywhere

I can't think of a place you could get away with this in the U.S. I don't know whether to be mortified or tickled. At first I thought it was a joke. But it's not. And Ryan said "crap" was a naughty word for a little girl to say!

(I pass by this establishment a few times a week and just noticed the sign. Here's a free advertisement anyway ...)

Hit me baby ...

Just when I think I've realized that indeed I don't want to be like Gwynnie, she goes and does something like this (and I quote people.com as of 13 Feb 2006):

Gwyneth Paltrow revealed more than just her taste in music when she played radio deejay in L.A. recently. The actress – whose playlist included Arcade Fire, Arctic Monkeys, Interpol and, naturally, Coldplay – admitted that husband (and Coldplay frontman) Chris Martin isn't the only musician she finds appealing. Turns out, if she ever got a "free pass" to indulge a crush, "it would be (with) someone like Phil Selway, my musical hero. He's the drummer for Radiohead," she said on indie station 103.1's Camp Freddie show. "I admire him so much." And that wasn't Paltrow's only revelation: She also had praise for pal Madonna's breasts, saying, "They are fantastic, by the way." Thanks for sharing.

She plays Arcade Fire and digs Selway more than any other musician, next to her husband of course. And I still want the Bugaboo stroller. I've been telling myself that I don't need to be like GP and that I'm less of a snob and more in tune with reality because I'm not a celebrity. Whereas I still believe that wholeheartedly, it doesn't ring as true when she seems like she might be a cool person.

But she does have a daughter named Apple ...

Grocery list, 03 Feb 2006

(changed into U.S. dollars so it makes sense to most people who might read this)

**6 thinly-pounded chicken breasts $8.49
small box strawberries $3.38
8 rashers of bacon (the equivalent of about 24 pieces) $2.69
70 pieces of wafer-thin ham $3.38
**2 very small boxes of large king prawns $8.49
1 small jar of Skippy peanut butter $2.70
6 tiny cereal bars $2.19
huge canister of cream of tartar $1.85
box of 15 little fruit cookie things $1.62
cherry pie filling $1.48
rubber gloves $2.70
huge box of generic Weetabix (like Wheaties but shaped into biscuits) $2.33
head of iceberg lettuce $1.09
one big block of medium cheddar cheese $4.15
10 slices mild cheddar $2.37
2 liters of generic water $.71
big container of generic pine-scented general cleaner $1.51
1/2 gallon whole milk $1.97

**on special, two-for-one

The Dealio

So what I should have said at the beginning was the point of this blog. Here's the deal: I'm a stay-at-home mom who would rather be working, but that would require that I put my one-year-old daughter into daycare, which I don't want to do, and I would be lucky if my salary was enough to make the whole thing worthwhile. So though I choose to stay at home, it's not what I would really like to be doing.

What would I like to be doing? Not really sure. Probably getting paid to post pictures on people.com, since reading it is about the only thing I do these days anyway. Besides cook, clean, run errands on foot and play Freecell.

We are not a rich family. Neither of us comes from rich families. We get a little help from Mark's parents around holidays. But what it boils down to is that we moved to London to live in London so we didn't move some place more affordable, like Kingston or god knows where else. We are the poorest people I know, the only people I know living outside central London who don't have a car. At this point I can't afford the $3 Starbucks decaf (which isn't even brewed, btw), a glass of wine with my dinner every night or even a music class for Vaughn once a week. And we never, EVER go out. However we do use our savings to go on nice little vacations (to Seville next weekend, for instance). And hopefully that will make it all worth it.

In the meantime, I wonder how American moms living over here get by when things are so expensive and so freaking foreign (food, for example), and so my mind continually wanders to Gwyneth Paltrow and how she gets by. It's just natural. She's the postermom for us ex-pats. But then I remember the money, the nannies, the enormous house in Primrose Hill, the friends, the social scene, the car, the money ... and I'm just right back where I started. A poor, but not poor, American living in the Nappy Valley of London.

With no queso.

Don't fake the funk

I seek motivation in those around me. It's no coincidence that I have this streak in my hair (actually, it is pure coincidence): like Rogue in XMen, I suck out the energy from those around me. That's not entirely true. I like to think that I give back at least a little. I mean, c'mon, Vaughn is still completely helpless without me. That counts for something.

I read Rebecca's blog today and she's funny. Mark started a blog with what little spare time he has. Rebecca thinks she's boring, but at least she's redoing her house. Today I bought picture frames and sour cream and baby socks and Dentyl, some shmancy new thing like Listerine but more expensive than a tank of gas. That's about all I have to show for my day.

I keep thinking I have to somehow relate my daily blogs to my title, and I need to remember that Gwyneth Paltrow is neither all that attractive nor all that interesting. She's just rich, well-connected and ... well, rich. I do wonder what she had for lunch today, what she eats in this godforsaken country. Actually I'm sure parts of Britain are beautiful, and I'm sure Scotland is just magical and spectacular, but I can't imagine the Scots have yummy food, either. The butcher's shop sign said this the other day: "Burn's Night! Don't forget your Haggis!" Is this a joke? If I hadn't been amused by So I Married An Axe Murderer, I think I would be disgusted.

Dinner: pork chops with garlic, sour cream, lemon juice, olive oil and tons of garlic salt; corn and pilau rice for Mark; lentils for me.

What I want: sweet cornbread with tons of butter, cheese garlic grits casserole, queso, carrot cake and two bacon cheeseburgers.