The thing about London....

Trying to explain or understand my love affair with London is something I've been trying to figure for years, and I've finally come to a conclusion: there is no right answer, no rhyme or reason, it just is.

Perhaps it is genetic, as my well traveled mother and cousin also claim London as their own. As does the Queen, Shakespeare, the whole of the West End, Burberry and more. I am in fine company.

The understanding I have of the love Frances had for Italy in Under The Tuscan Sun encompasses my love for London. Sure, there are a zillion things to do--and I've done a good 80% of them, but, my favorite thing is to sit on a park bench with a bag of scones and a cup of tea and just sit. I could sit for hours.

This is a honed skill. The novice need not apply. I remember when I learned this skill. I was 18 and dating a beautiful Danish boy named Bruno. I know, I know, the name held me up too. But, he was tall, blonde, blue eyed, everything you'd expect of a Dane. Handsome. Charming. Endearingly sweet. Sarcastic in a way that only he has ever been. Kind. He was for me, the ultimate. (to be clear, it was a short lived affair but to this day he holds a special place in my life for the following reason)

I remember us piling into my car and just driving. Driving and listening to music. Not talking. Not singing. Just us. We ended up at a park, the only one in my small town and we bought some ice cream and sat on a park bench.

I, ever the sugar fiend greedily tore into my ice cream as he, the refined European took to it like a scared bird. I learned to slow down--even if it just involved ice cream. And there we sat. Talking. Not talking. Just being. He did this a lot at home, he said. How mature! How European! Sign me up, please!

Ever the go go go-er, this task challenged me for years. I was always in a hurry. A hurry to get out of California, a hurry to lose weight, hurrying to work, hurrying to finish school and so on. Which is always dumb because hey, guess what happens when you hurry? You're always early. That revelation still hasnt hit me. I spend a majority of my time waiting because guess who is always early to every damn thing in her life? Exactly.

But, back to London. If Bruno taught me how to be still, it was London that taught me how to master it (and Madrid that showed me I can share this with another).

I arrived in London bright eyed and bushy tailed, a young girl on her first travel assignment for work. Back when I dreamed of high powered PR jobs, corner offices and expensive suits. Ahhhh, youth. I was traveling with a colleague who had grown up in London and we were meeting in the hotel lobby at 7 for dinner. I arrived at the hotel at 11 am. Sure.

With nothing to do and nowhere to be, I took off, map in hand for a park. Green Park to be exact. I walked to Buckingham Palace, I strolled the mall and found a cup of tea at a cafe in St. James Park. Then, under the gray drizzle of a London autumn, sat with my tea and watched. And laughed. And watched. And thought. Of everything, of nothing. I just was. I was in London. Just as I had been thousands of miles and a hundred lifetimes ago on that park bench.

I imagined Bruno was next to me, that he was proud of the little European he'd created. But, he wasn't. I was alone. But I wasn't lonely. I was deliriously happy.

And every waking second I wasn't in meetings or touring the sights (because what 23 year old in her right mind wouldn't hop the tube and see EVERYTHING on her company's dime), I was nestled in a park with snacks and a camera, living life through everyone who passed me. And living my life too. It's a strange sort of practice, isn't it?

That is why, today, years later, I find nothing more enjoyable than sitting on a park bench in a city where I am totally unknown and watching life, living life and just being.

Why the first thing I do when I get to London is go to Green Park. Why Green Park will always be my favorite place on earth--the place where I mastered a great art, the place where I could be alone and happy for the first time, the place where I grew up in an instant and yet was still just a child, the place that changed me forever.

Let's not get ahead of ourselves--I still go approximately 300 miles a minute, but, when I do sit still, I really am me. And sometimes, my heart aches for that bench and that drizzly October day. For London. The city that taught me so much. The city I love most of all.

While Bruno may lay claim to my ability to be, it is London who is my Jedi Master. The city I love so.

Perhaps that is why my heart, soul and body feel a connection to that city. Perhaps it is my love of literature that draws me there. Or my innate need to be friends with Kate Middleton damn it. The love of accents (although that doesn't make sense considering I've never been to Australia and y'all know I love me an Aussie). Maybe it is my mother, drawing me nearer to her via her city. Or the fact that I can see musicals, opera, and Shakespeare all in a day.

At the end of the day (you're another day older) (and that's all you can say for the life of the poor) (it's a struggle--) can't it be all of those things? Or, just that maybe, maybe, we all have cities. Places that for us are exotic and comforting all the same. Maybe for you it is New York, or for my best friend it is Paris. My sister, she would say San Diego. My young cousins would say Siena.

There is a big huge world out there and I hope to see a great lot of it in my lifetime, but, for now, I'm content to know London.

26.2 mile confession

It's not that running has become a huge part of my life these last years, and I'm eternally grateful for it. Some of my greatest friends and best memories involve running.

But, I need a break.

I finished my seventh marathon in three years in Madrid a few days ago and it was wonderful and great but I've promised myself no fall marathon this year. Which, was not entirely self imposed as I was sick the day Marine Corps opened and slept right through registration but took that as a sign. Honestly, I have no desire to run through the Texas heat, I am sick of feeling guilty for missing a run, missing opportunities with friends and really, being tired and sore all the damn time.

So, I'll spend some time getting back to why I run, working on my speed and hopefully continuing my mid week runs with TPG. Because really, who wouldn't want a hour of calorie burning girl chat with one of their very best friends? My point exactly.

Madrid was an experience to say the least. I'm a bit ashamed of my time, but not surprised. I'm not going to make excuses, I'm just going to say I was undertrained and not prepared, and that's the truth. It showed but I'm okay with it.

I went out, ran my race, ran a solid first half where I felt good and was on track to smash my goal time.

Then, after a mile 18 puke and rally and seeing my sister at mile 20, it kind of all fell apart. It was steep uphill after uphill and try as I might, my legs would not go. I was depressed to see my miles slow way down, but, I was insanely proud at the same time. I was running totally alone, unable to ask for Tums or Aleeve from the volunteers as I can't speak Spanish. There was no one to make bad jokes with and surprisingly I never got my standard mile 23 Sailor Mouth. Tear filled about the uphills and my time, but overjoyed that I was even here considering I had major abdominal surgery just a few months ago. My body remembered how to run a marathon and did it.

Christy caught me in the final lap and ran me in. I've never been so happy to see her in my life. We crossed together and hugged and I lost it. I was so happy to be there with her and to finish the race when I really wasn't sure that I could. Really, ask her about how I was nearly in tears about it the night before. HOT MESS.

It's a great point to take a break from 26.2 at least for a season.

Fall 2012, no. Spring 2013, yes!

My closet vs. one suitcase

As requested by le bestie Sara (aka the selfish wench who had to go and get knocked up so she can't go to Spain with me) (and we had to cancel our spring trip to Austria where we were going to run around singing The hilllllls are alivvvveee) (whatever) (she knows I'm joking and that I love her and am beyond thrilled for her) (I really am)

ANYWAYS. Since she isn't going with to watch me bomb a marathon and attempt to find my way around Spain, she requested a play by play of my outfits. And I'm currently sitting with a 60 pound boxer in a cone of shame, so, holiday outfits sound pretty appealing to me right now.

Pretend to be interested. I've had a long couple of days.

My transatlantic outfit--I have to look cute going through customs after a 10 hour flight, yes?

Source: polyvore.com via Shabby on Pinterest

Casual Barcelona to LHR (LONDON! MY SWEET LOVE) outfit.

Source: polyvore.com via Shabby on Pinterest

Strolling through Spain....

Source: polyvore.com via Shabby on Pinterest

Strolling along the Mediterranean in Barcelona.

Source: polyvore.com via Shabby on Pinterest

My "if it's sunny and nice in London, but I will be wearing a trench coat anyways so I'll probably end up wearing this when we go to Green Park and The Tower" outfit. Official title.

Source: juliedmonds.blogspot.com via Shabby on Pinterest

Stripes and turquoise. Always!

Source: polyvore.com via Shabby on Pinterest

Basics--can't go wrong.

Source: polyvore.com via Shabby on Pinterest

Love this color combination.

Source: polyvore.com via Shabby on Pinterest

For strolling around Oxford street with the sis. In love with stripes!

Source: polyvore.com via Shabby on Pinterest

Right?! Now, could someone please tell me how to cram all this into one suitcase? Because I've no idea.

The only thing I'm missing is a fabulous dress to wear to the theatre--which, is the most important thing after all--remember Broadway Birthday Extravaganza? My point exactly.

Carrying The Banner

Last week the fam packed up and headed to NYC for an Easter extravaganza, and on Friday night, I went to the much anticipated Broadway debut of Newsies. Or, as I like to call it--"every 12 year old's dream come true".

I can't even tell you how giddy excited I was. Legit crazytown.

I saw Once the night before, which floored me--unlike anything I've ever seen and I loved every second of it. I want to live in that musical.

So, after that, I was a little nervous that Newsies wasn't going to live up to the 20 years in the making fantasies that all girls my age can appreciate.

We took my favorite grad student and my Madrid cohort, Christy to the show and she and I got to sit third row. WORD.
However, I'm here to tell you, the Newsies crew? NAILED IT.

I can't say enough wonderful things about the show. I've been following them on Twitter and YouTube and knew it would be fantastic, but, it blew me away. The set was super unique, the dancing was OUT OF CONTROL and the entire ensemble worked so well together.

It wasn't the same as the movie of course (a few new songs, not as much Spot Conlin action, a different reporter--but, still), either way, I just loved it. Everyone was so into their show and the singing? Oh the singing! It really renewed my faith in why I do theater.

The crowd was singing along, clapping, toe tapping, hoopin' and hollerin'--was just so much fun.
After the show, I forced everyone to wait at the stage door to meet the cast. The stage door was rammed y'all! My dad goes "these people aren't famous!", to which Christy and I responded "they are now!". That's what I love so much about this show--it's creating GREAT careers for all these kids. Seriously, kids.

Look at how happy they are?!
Christy and Jess LaPort who plays in the ensemble.
Andrew Keenan Bolger who plays Crutchie--darling!
Christy, myself and Capathia Jenkins who plays a fabulous Meda!
Ryan Steele who plays Specs--we love him!

The adorable Ryan Breslin who plays Races
And the man of the hour--Jack Kelly himself, Jeremy M. Jordan
Y'all, he is darling. I've followed his career for a bit and was excited to see him in Newsies. He knocked it out of the park y'all!! Loved his voice on those iconic songs.

A bunch of Texans! Yep, he's a Texas boy.
After the show, the fam, Christy and I went for dessert--wherein Christy and I literally shut down the restaurant. Nothing like long late night chats with a friend who really "gets" you.
It really was just the perfect evening and I love that I finally got to see a Broadway show with Christy! Next time I see her will be in Madrid!

If you get the chance, please, get yourselves to the Nederlander theater in NYC and see Newsies!!

I've created a monster

And here's how it happened.....

I forced my Dad to go see some shows with me in London. The conversation went something like this:

Me: "We have to see Phantom while we're in London. It's beautiful, it was one of Mom's favorites and if nothing else, you'll love the music. And it's the 25th Anniversary, so, we've got to see that too."

Dad: Grumbles. "Meh. Fine. Whatever."
Interval of Phantom
Dad: "This is AMAZING. The score is just perfect."
Me: "Told ya." Smug smile.

After the curtain call
Dad: "Here, let's go to the pit and watch the orchestra. FOR LIKE AN HOUR."
Two days later--
Me: "I think it'd be fun to see Mama Mia. I bet you'd like it--it's fun."
Dad: Eye roll.

After the show
Dad: "SO MUCH FUN! Let's stay and meet the cast at the stage door!"

SERIOUSLY.

Fast forward a few months and I tell him I'm planning a quickie weekend trip to NYC to see Newsies--which is basically every 12 year old's dream come true, am I right?--then he decides the familia should come for the Easter break.

Dad: "Well, we've got to go see Phantom. I mean, we HAVE to. We've got to have good seats. We can't NOT see Phantom."
Me: Laughs.
Dad: "It's SO GOOD. How do I get the best seats?"
Me: "Any other shows you want to take the family to?"
Dad: "OH MAMA MIA FOR SURE."
Me: Falling over laughing. "So much for that whole I don't like theater thing, huh?"
Dad: "You are your mother's child."

And that, my friends, is how my father now loves Phantom of the Opera, Mama Mia and all things Andrew Lloyd Webber.

Proud daughter, y'all. Here's to hoping I corrupt the little sister too!

(image from here)

You're Only A Day Away

Tomorrow! Tomorrow!

Tomorrow is the day.

Tomorrow is the day that my baby sister gets home. Home from eighteen months away--far away. It seems like years ago I wrote the post when she left, but, it also seems like it was yesterday.
(sissies!! Me, Becca and Rachie--also, what is up with my eyebrows? It pains me to look at them)

A lot has changed, and, I've a lot to tell her (I can't wait to gush about Hugh Jackman and Bones with her), but, mostly I just want to see her. Hear her. Laugh with her. Hear her testimony. Eat pancakes with her. And y'all know I don't even like pancakes.

She's always been an amazing girl. I know I chose my mom and my crazy dad to be my parents, and I also know I ended up with Rachie and Rebecce in my life for a reason. I mean, if I'd actually married Hugh Jackman, I wouldn't have my baby sister, and honestly, I can't imagine my life without her (or Becca, duhhh).

I'm so excited to take her to Spain in a few weeks and explore my London with her. I can't wait to hear her sweet voice-- and it can't hurt to have a Canuck with me in England, right?

We are going to have a great time, and after a year and a half of living in small quarters and no luxury, I'm looking forward to spoiling her with first class train tickets, premier theater seats and a fancy suite in the heart of Piccadilly.

Silly thing told me that we can stay wherever is cheapest. Oh honey. If I'm going to do it, I'm going to do it 185%. If I say we're going to see Hugh Jackman, I'll find a way to kiss him--twice--if i take you out for a night on the town, I'll swindle VIP passes. I'm not taking my sister all the way to Europe and not going all out. Whatever she wants to do, we'll do-- as long as I get a trip to the tower bridge and an afternoon in Green Park, that's all I need.

It's a little unorthodox for a return missionary who's trying to ya know, reintegrate, but, I'm looking forward to two weeks of sister time, two weeks of our British accents, two weeks of theater, of sun and togetherness.

So, even though I'm taking her to Europe, I'm the lucky one. Me.