No, this news isn't exactly earth-shattering, but take it from me, everyone should have a "try a chocolate bar" day. Seriously. And in answer to your confused faces: yes, you are free to move on and read other, more educational posts than this one.
Having subjected myself to the horribly painful task of sampling cheerfully-packaged British chocolaty goodness, my decisions are as follows:
I love:
Drifters: some say they taste "stale", but they're quite amazing. Yummy wafers with a tiny amount of chewiness in the centre, all surrounded by milk chocolate.
Willie's Delectables: these chocolates are the most amazing dark chocolates I've ever had. Ever. Seriously. This guy basically put up his life savings to make "the best chocolate in the world": he went to Venezuela and Peru to research the beans, and has made all of these by hand. You can only find them in a few online UK sites, but holy christmas, they are so worth it.
Yep, that's about it. I thought I'd come back with at least 6 on my list, but to be honest, I don't like anything too sweet, too flaky, too filled with caramel and nuts... and it seems a lot of the chocolate in the UK is exactly that. I thought I'd also like Dairy Milk, but the rich, creamy chocolate is just a bit too heavy for me. And I also discovered that I don't have a raging chocolate obsession like I thought I did. However, don't get me started on strawberry Twizzlers or cherry Nerds, because I could write volumes about how much I love those things.
So, there you have it. And at 5 months in, I'm still managing to only need one item of maternity wear, which means that either I didn't have too much chocolate in my quest.. or I didn't have enough. Mmmm. Maybe I should do a survey of candy... (cue bitch-slap from the dentist).
Friday, 29 May 2009
Monday, 18 May 2009
In the name of research
I'm doing a fun little experiment on chocolate. Blame the hormones if you will, but I think this'll be a fun little test, as there are so many different types that I've never tried. And come on, can you blame me for making sure that every chocolate bar gets a little attention and love and not taken for granted by the British public? Yeah, I thought so. I rest my case.
Chocolate bars are much different over here in the UK than they are in America.
Firstly, the main difference is the taste. They're far less sweeter over here, and they usually come in normal sizes- not like the King Size bars of Snickers that are as long as your leg.
Secondly, there are SO many different varieties, and they're all extremely different, and not all filled with peanuts and nougat.
Thirdly...
Okay, I can't think of a third one, so I might as well start eating. For those of you who want to indulge vicariously, you can reference this.
I'll report back shortly. Toothless and happy.
Chocolate bars are much different over here in the UK than they are in America.
Firstly, the main difference is the taste. They're far less sweeter over here, and they usually come in normal sizes- not like the King Size bars of Snickers that are as long as your leg.
Secondly, there are SO many different varieties, and they're all extremely different, and not all filled with peanuts and nougat.
Thirdly...
Okay, I can't think of a third one, so I might as well start eating. For those of you who want to indulge vicariously, you can reference this.
I'll report back shortly. Toothless and happy.
Thursday, 7 May 2009
A love letter to amazing things
Well, we got back to London in one piece (well, physically. I was in a million pieces emotionally, but more of that later).
It was, in one word: fucking brilliant. Okay, that's two words. Whatever.
We spent a couple days in New York City for our anniversary, and it was so sweet. I never realised I missed it so much until I stepped foot on the wide, grey pavement in the sunshine. After almost 2 years of having not seen it since I moved, it was really beautiful. Even the ugly bits. We also went to visit the old neighbourhood we lived in, in Long Island City, and we strolled up the street, holding hands and remembering little memories that we had there. It was, after all, the city where we lived right after we got married, so the memories were surprisingly poignant. The mister secretly booked our hotel, and though I was expecting somewhere downtown in SoHo, he booked a boutique hotel where we could see this from our balcony:
It was, in one word: fucking brilliant. Okay, that's two words. Whatever.
We spent a couple days in New York City for our anniversary, and it was so sweet. I never realised I missed it so much until I stepped foot on the wide, grey pavement in the sunshine. After almost 2 years of having not seen it since I moved, it was really beautiful. Even the ugly bits. We also went to visit the old neighbourhood we lived in, in Long Island City, and we strolled up the street, holding hands and remembering little memories that we had there. It was, after all, the city where we lived right after we got married, so the memories were surprisingly poignant. The mister secretly booked our hotel, and though I was expecting somewhere downtown in SoHo, he booked a boutique hotel where we could see this from our balcony:
It was perfect, and I fell in love with him all over again.
We also made a manic dash to a few shops and I managed to fit in a pretty decent and still economical shopping spree (and so did the mister). A few new shirts for him, tops and a pair of maternity jeans for me (yes, I submitted finally- what a nightmare), and then we set off to drive 4 hours to see my family upstate.
I can't begin to describe what the feeling was when we got there. We were excited to see them, obviously, but there was something so poignant about all of us being together for a few days. It felt like a moment that was dripping in honey. Really slow, sweet, irresistable in its utter joy. Mamo couldn't help but touch my expanding belly want to buy clothes for little bean, and Tato was both proud of his only girl, and excited at having the mister infuse a little testosterone into the mix. And Babchya... well. Babchya just couldn't stop hugging and kissing us. It was a massive celebration of love and family and eating and relaxing and planning for the unkown future that's about to happen to all of us.
We also managed to grab a cherished few hours with two people that we've known for a while, who have three perfect little people of their own. Before I describe them, I need to say something, though.
Honestly, I don't have many girlfriends. But I've never been the kind of girl that has a gang of girls to hang out with, or that has stayed best friends with her 12-year old classmate. Not that I haven't tried, believe me. I don't know why, but I guess I have a very distinct personality that doesn't seem to fit into a certain mold. I'm a bit brash, I have a dry sense of humour, I tend to be interested in solo sports rather than group sports, I tend to be the oddball, and I don't have regular girlie weekends "away from the boys".
Now, back to those two people. One person I've known since I was 15. His wife, however, I've gotten to know over a handful of years. She and I have seen eachother grow and change from a distance, and the few times that we've all met for a drink or a house visit, has been really lovely. And especially now, when I seem to be on the timeline that she had a couple years earlier (house, new business, baby on the way), there are a lot of elements in her that I recognise in myself, and I not only admire her as a wife and mother, but I I blink in awe of her strength and vulnerability as a woman and the kind of presence that she has. She walks into a room and she just has "it", and I have no idea what "it" is, though I'm sure her husband has a pretty good idea. And so do her little ones.
Anyway, without sounding like an obsessed fan, the dinner was full of great conversation, lots of wine (well, I got to live vicariously, anyway), and most of all, pee-in-my-pants laughter. The mister and I have a very weird sense of humour and I'm kind of blunt as well, and it was deliciously equalled by these two, and we felt a really nice connection. Though I had a pang of longing for the fact that the one woman I meet that shares a similar perspective, is 4,000 miles away. Figures. Either way, I know that even if we lived 20 minutes from eachother we probably wouldn't see eachother regularly, but that's what I find really fascinating about her. It's the ability to share the same space when you're able to, or parallel paths. A connection that isn't fed by anything but pure curiosity and the willingness to tackle a challenge. I miss her, but I relish the sweetness in using a few items that she's passed on to me. It's an honour, sweetheart.
Suffice to say, it was really hard for us to leave our vacation, it all went by at lightspeed. The journey home for me was rough, much more so than ever before. We realised that we wouldn't see my family again until baby makes its debut, and that really hit me hard. I'm not negating the fact that I have my in-laws here and they're really amazing.. but I just have to say, I miss my mom. I'll miss her hugging me tightly, patting my bump and whispering to it in Ukrainian. I'll miss seeing Tato hugging the mister tightly and telling him to take good care of me. I'll miss them around throughout this process this summer. I'll miss them when it's just me and the mister and the bump, before we have a second or third child that will break the "first time" reverie. It broke my heart into bits, but I had to be strong and realise that it's all a part of why life is such an amazing and hard test. The strength that you get from this kind of love is the sweet part of the pain, and that's what I need to focus on.
Until then, Mamo... ya tebe lyublyu.
Tuesday, 28 April 2009
If you're reading this, you may have been tagged.
Little Laura and her bun in the belly have tagged me for a game of 8s. I don't get tagged very often, and my brain is hurting working too many graphics on a presentation so I thought I'd try it. And I'll try and not bore you to death.
Actually, I'm quite surprised at this list, because the thing that really struck me is the "8 Things I Wish I Could Do". I had a tough time filling that one out, because everything I have in my life so far is a list of things that I wished for when I was younger... so it's nice to be reminded of how content you can be, eh?
8 Things I Look Forward To:
1. Getting on a plane to NYC tomorrow
2. Celebrating our 3 year anniversary tomorrow
3. Seeing Blur at Wembley Stadium in July
4. Meeting our October dinner guest
5. Getting a long kiss from my mister at the end of my day, every day
6. The New York pizza that I will devour (there is no better pizza in the entire world)
7. Seeing my family upstate, first time since B.P. (Before Pregnancy)
8. Getting our sailboat back from Holland so we can start sailing in the summer
8 Things I Did Yesterday:
1. Got Indian takeaway for dinner. Mmmmm...
2. Started packing our suitcases
3. Went with the mister for our checkup with the midwife
4. Watched part of a movie
5. Balanced our bank accounts in the US and the UK
6. Caught up on my daily celebrity trash on http://www.dlisted.com/
7. Worked on a presentation at work
8. Made the mister's anniversary card
8 Things I Wish I Could Do:
1. Eat sushi and drink cocktails while pregnant
2. Play the guitar
3. Be consistent with excercising
4. Excel at sports
5. Have my own business
6. Not be in debt
7. Fly like a bird
8. Make time pass more slowly so I can relish moments longer
8 Shows I Watch:
1. BBC news
2. America's Next Top Model
3. Match of the Day
4. Any Tottenham Hotspur game
5. Grand Designs (oh, how I adore this show)
6. Supersize v Superskinny
7. The Dog Whisperer
8. Dragons Den
8 Bloggers Whom I Am Harrassing to Do This:
1. Cat at Zipbag of Bones
2. Janet at Three and Holding
3. Kat at Three Bedroom Bungalow
4. Elle Charlie at Sometimes a Girl Needs a Blog
5. Flutter
6. Michelle at Confessions of a Desperate Housewife
7. Ryan at Low Water Mark
8. Amanda at The Wink
Actually, I'm quite surprised at this list, because the thing that really struck me is the "8 Things I Wish I Could Do". I had a tough time filling that one out, because everything I have in my life so far is a list of things that I wished for when I was younger... so it's nice to be reminded of how content you can be, eh?
8 Things I Look Forward To:
1. Getting on a plane to NYC tomorrow
2. Celebrating our 3 year anniversary tomorrow
3. Seeing Blur at Wembley Stadium in July
4. Meeting our October dinner guest
5. Getting a long kiss from my mister at the end of my day, every day
6. The New York pizza that I will devour (there is no better pizza in the entire world)
7. Seeing my family upstate, first time since B.P. (Before Pregnancy)
8. Getting our sailboat back from Holland so we can start sailing in the summer
8 Things I Did Yesterday:
1. Got Indian takeaway for dinner. Mmmmm...
2. Started packing our suitcases
3. Went with the mister for our checkup with the midwife
4. Watched part of a movie
5. Balanced our bank accounts in the US and the UK
6. Caught up on my daily celebrity trash on http://www.dlisted.com/
7. Worked on a presentation at work
8. Made the mister's anniversary card
8 Things I Wish I Could Do:
1. Eat sushi and drink cocktails while pregnant
2. Play the guitar
3. Be consistent with excercising
4. Excel at sports
5. Have my own business
6. Not be in debt
7. Fly like a bird
8. Make time pass more slowly so I can relish moments longer
8 Shows I Watch:
1. BBC news
2. America's Next Top Model
3. Match of the Day
4. Any Tottenham Hotspur game
5. Grand Designs (oh, how I adore this show)
6. Supersize v Superskinny
7. The Dog Whisperer
8. Dragons Den
8 Bloggers Whom I Am Harrassing to Do This:
1. Cat at Zipbag of Bones
2. Janet at Three and Holding
3. Kat at Three Bedroom Bungalow
4. Elle Charlie at Sometimes a Girl Needs a Blog
5. Flutter
6. Michelle at Confessions of a Desperate Housewife
7. Ryan at Low Water Mark
8. Amanda at The Wink
Wednesday, 22 April 2009
Giving good head
You bunch of perverts. That's for another site.
I'm in a very strange in-between phase of pregnancy. Yes, it's a magical time and I'm very blessed to have a pretty easy ride so far.... BUT. It's not as glamorous as I thought. Here I was thinking "hey, I'll be a hot thing, skinny as a rail with a tiny bump in front of me, wearing 5 inch heels". Shyeah. Thanks, Us Weekly, for making us think that that's possible. My heels have stayed on, but the rest of me has definitely changed.
Up until about a week ago, I've been able to wear my size 25 jeans (with a hairband connecting the groaning sides of zipper together like Moses trying to keep the Red Sea together). But I gave it up and surrendered to my expanding belly and ass. The changes seem to be happening at a rate where I feel like I have a new layer of fat every morning. On the positive side, some of the fat has deposited itself straight onto my 2-cup sizes larger boobs, which almost gives these English "glamour girls" a run for their money. Niiice.
I also haven't been sleeping well, which is rare for me, since I could normally sleep through a level of noise equivalent to a jet engine. I think the insomnia is a combination of having to run to the bathroom in the middle of the night all the time and a backache like I've been in a boxing match with Tyson.
My hair and face are another story. My hair, even having had it cut a month ago, has grown out already, and has felt heavy, dull and lanky, and my face just looks tired and beaten, and quite round now, sort of like a dinner plate. Great.
I'm wondering where this supposed 2nd trimester "glow" is arriving. I sense a design flaw in this whole pregnancy thing. And it got to the point where I've found myself criticizing my looks and being really negative. But I noticed I was complaining without actually doing something about it. So I made a change. And here's where I get to the title of this piece.
I went to the salon and told him to chop off my hair. 5 inches.
And if I sound vain, I really don't give a shit, because I am languishing in the giddiness of a new hairdo. It makes me feel amazing and pampered and completely brighter. I feel like myself again, and I feel like the insides of my brain got what they were aching for. A chance to feel like "me".
So, in fact, my hairstylist gave me good head, if you will. Both externally and internally.
I'm in a very strange in-between phase of pregnancy. Yes, it's a magical time and I'm very blessed to have a pretty easy ride so far.... BUT. It's not as glamorous as I thought. Here I was thinking "hey, I'll be a hot thing, skinny as a rail with a tiny bump in front of me, wearing 5 inch heels". Shyeah. Thanks, Us Weekly, for making us think that that's possible. My heels have stayed on, but the rest of me has definitely changed.
Up until about a week ago, I've been able to wear my size 25 jeans (with a hairband connecting the groaning sides of zipper together like Moses trying to keep the Red Sea together). But I gave it up and surrendered to my expanding belly and ass. The changes seem to be happening at a rate where I feel like I have a new layer of fat every morning. On the positive side, some of the fat has deposited itself straight onto my 2-cup sizes larger boobs, which almost gives these English "glamour girls" a run for their money. Niiice.
I also haven't been sleeping well, which is rare for me, since I could normally sleep through a level of noise equivalent to a jet engine. I think the insomnia is a combination of having to run to the bathroom in the middle of the night all the time and a backache like I've been in a boxing match with Tyson.
My hair and face are another story. My hair, even having had it cut a month ago, has grown out already, and has felt heavy, dull and lanky, and my face just looks tired and beaten, and quite round now, sort of like a dinner plate. Great.
I'm wondering where this supposed 2nd trimester "glow" is arriving. I sense a design flaw in this whole pregnancy thing. And it got to the point where I've found myself criticizing my looks and being really negative. But I noticed I was complaining without actually doing something about it. So I made a change. And here's where I get to the title of this piece.
I went to the salon and told him to chop off my hair. 5 inches.
And if I sound vain, I really don't give a shit, because I am languishing in the giddiness of a new hairdo. It makes me feel amazing and pampered and completely brighter. I feel like myself again, and I feel like the insides of my brain got what they were aching for. A chance to feel like "me".
So, in fact, my hairstylist gave me good head, if you will. Both externally and internally.
Friday, 17 April 2009
Do you ever want to say thank you because...
Your heart is expanding so much it's about to burst?
You're so lucky to smell fresh air and see a sunrise?
You have a day where life pats you on the back and says "you're amazing, and you do deserve all of this"?
Amazed at where you've ended up and the path you've taken?
You're lucky that even your bad days aren't really that horrible?
That you're lucky to have a good heart and hope you can give some of that to others?
You love the "I love you"s that don't need to be said, but someone tells you anyway, because they just can't help it?
Yeah. Well.
I'm giving myself license to feel like this today.
Some days I can whine, I can pick up on the negative... but more often than not lately, I've been releasing the hold I have on those things, and lounging in the bliss of just letting go. I'm letting myself delegate more. I'm learning how to relish the moments. I'm learning that life passes by way to quickly sometimes and every second is an interesting little memory.
My waist is expanding (and so are my boobs, deliciously) because we're baking a little bun. And while this is happening, my heart also seems to be expanding, as if in competition. It literally feels like it's stretching to accommodate all this love I have for my mister, for the unknown little friend arriving, for all the things that I want to say but haven't yet, for myself- for all the times I've been hard on myself, my spirit, my body. It's a different kind of love- it's a potent, innate, profound, sweetly torturous feeling that I've never had before.
I tend to keep certain things in my life private, but today I guess I want to open up and say thank you. Thank you to whomever sewed the crazy little tapestry of Me, and managed to give me enough brainpower to navigate pretty well. And to have given me a handsome partner that not only navigates with me, but keeps teaching me and astounding me in the ways he shows me he loves me every day. Out of billions of people on this planet, he and I found eachother and managed to create a new little friend, and for that, I can't say enough how deeply amazed and grateful I am.
Tell someone "thank you", just for the hell of it. See what happens.
You're so lucky to smell fresh air and see a sunrise?
You have a day where life pats you on the back and says "you're amazing, and you do deserve all of this"?
Amazed at where you've ended up and the path you've taken?
You're lucky that even your bad days aren't really that horrible?
That you're lucky to have a good heart and hope you can give some of that to others?
You love the "I love you"s that don't need to be said, but someone tells you anyway, because they just can't help it?
Yeah. Well.
I'm giving myself license to feel like this today.
Some days I can whine, I can pick up on the negative... but more often than not lately, I've been releasing the hold I have on those things, and lounging in the bliss of just letting go. I'm letting myself delegate more. I'm learning how to relish the moments. I'm learning that life passes by way to quickly sometimes and every second is an interesting little memory.
My waist is expanding (and so are my boobs, deliciously) because we're baking a little bun. And while this is happening, my heart also seems to be expanding, as if in competition. It literally feels like it's stretching to accommodate all this love I have for my mister, for the unknown little friend arriving, for all the things that I want to say but haven't yet, for myself- for all the times I've been hard on myself, my spirit, my body. It's a different kind of love- it's a potent, innate, profound, sweetly torturous feeling that I've never had before.
I tend to keep certain things in my life private, but today I guess I want to open up and say thank you. Thank you to whomever sewed the crazy little tapestry of Me, and managed to give me enough brainpower to navigate pretty well. And to have given me a handsome partner that not only navigates with me, but keeps teaching me and astounding me in the ways he shows me he loves me every day. Out of billions of people on this planet, he and I found eachother and managed to create a new little friend, and for that, I can't say enough how deeply amazed and grateful I am.
Tell someone "thank you", just for the hell of it. See what happens.
Tuesday, 31 March 2009
A new view
We moved.
Well, actually, I should say, we started the process this past Friday, and are still in the process of unpacking boxes.
Granted, it's a bit of a nightmare to uproot your life and start somewhere new, but I find it perversely thrilling. And I think both of us tend to behave like gypsies: our tally is officially 5 moves in 3 years, one of them being transatlantic. Yeah, insane is an understatement.
No, I don't have sadomasochistic tendencies (though the last post might have you think otherwise), but I do enjoy lifting furniture, packing boxes, organising things in a new way, getting rid of old clothes, planning a schedule of how to do things, setting up a new adventure in a new house... it's the unknown that I love, it's the organised chaos, the challenges and the new perspectives that we as a couple really thrive on. We'll never be the kind of people that just sit back and watch things happen- we want to do stuff. We like to change our habits and vary our perspectives- sometimes to an exhaustive degree.
The mister and I work phenomenally well as a team, and this past weekend was solid proof, in a lot of ways. We worked like a pair of relay racers. We groaned, we laughed, we got annoyed, we had pizza. Frustratingly, I couldn't lift heavy objects or do a lot of the hard work with him this time around*, but the boxes and furniture that he brought over I then swiftly unpacked, squirreled away, and did all the small jobs. We worked from the same page, we spoke the same language on where we wanted things, and what we wanted from this new place. Though I'm sure I'm the only one that noticed this imperceptible click, it made me fall even more in love with the man that I met 4 years ago and the amazing relationship that we started from day 1. From the beginning we knew we fit each other impossibly well, but just couldn't put a finger on how. And now I get why people stay married for 60 years: it's the little things that you start to realise about how the relationship innately works. Even something as simple as moving house. You learn about each other a little bit at a time.
In a way, this house feels like a metaphor for change for us, for new plans, new trips, new business ventures. It sounds like we take on a lot, but I can't get enough of that gorgeous feeling at the end of the day to collapse, exhausted onto the sofa with my running partner, and know that the next day is a whole new set of challenges to get ready for.
* more info later
Well, actually, I should say, we started the process this past Friday, and are still in the process of unpacking boxes.
Granted, it's a bit of a nightmare to uproot your life and start somewhere new, but I find it perversely thrilling. And I think both of us tend to behave like gypsies: our tally is officially 5 moves in 3 years, one of them being transatlantic. Yeah, insane is an understatement.
No, I don't have sadomasochistic tendencies (though the last post might have you think otherwise), but I do enjoy lifting furniture, packing boxes, organising things in a new way, getting rid of old clothes, planning a schedule of how to do things, setting up a new adventure in a new house... it's the unknown that I love, it's the organised chaos, the challenges and the new perspectives that we as a couple really thrive on. We'll never be the kind of people that just sit back and watch things happen- we want to do stuff. We like to change our habits and vary our perspectives- sometimes to an exhaustive degree.
The mister and I work phenomenally well as a team, and this past weekend was solid proof, in a lot of ways. We worked like a pair of relay racers. We groaned, we laughed, we got annoyed, we had pizza. Frustratingly, I couldn't lift heavy objects or do a lot of the hard work with him this time around*, but the boxes and furniture that he brought over I then swiftly unpacked, squirreled away, and did all the small jobs. We worked from the same page, we spoke the same language on where we wanted things, and what we wanted from this new place. Though I'm sure I'm the only one that noticed this imperceptible click, it made me fall even more in love with the man that I met 4 years ago and the amazing relationship that we started from day 1. From the beginning we knew we fit each other impossibly well, but just couldn't put a finger on how. And now I get why people stay married for 60 years: it's the little things that you start to realise about how the relationship innately works. Even something as simple as moving house. You learn about each other a little bit at a time.
In a way, this house feels like a metaphor for change for us, for new plans, new trips, new business ventures. It sounds like we take on a lot, but I can't get enough of that gorgeous feeling at the end of the day to collapse, exhausted onto the sofa with my running partner, and know that the next day is a whole new set of challenges to get ready for.
* more info later
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