"I think the vacuum cleaner is broken," I sobbed into the phone.
"Is it turned on? Is it plugged in?" my husband-to-be asked.
"Of course. I'm not stupid," I replied.
"Did you turn the switch on at the wall?" he asked.
"What switch?"
"Next to the plug there's a switch. If it's on, you'll see a red band at the top."
"Oh" (sound of vacuum cleaner drowning out the rest of the conversation).
This was my very first clue that I wasn't in Kansas (or New York or Florida or any of the other states) anymore. The next few weeks and months were a giddy jumble of planning the wedding, meeting the relatives, and getting used to my new country and the people in it. I thought everyone would be so happy to have me living here, but my first weekend in England showed that this was not the case.
We stayed at my in-laws' that weekend. It was a bank holiday (three-day weekend). My future mother-in-law ceremoniously showed me my room with the single bed. Then she beckoned husband-to-be into another room and closed the door. It was quite clear that she wasn't altogether pleased with her son's selection of future wife. None of my future in-laws spoke to me much that weekend. By the second night I'd had enough and told HTB that if he was going to go off into another room with his mother and leave me on my own again, I was going to use the return part of my plane ticket and move back to New York. He took me at my word.
It was beginning to dawn on me in many ways that the UK was much more different to the U.S. than I had suspected. Take contact lenses. I had been buying an all-in-one solution to clean and store them for years at the drug stores in the U.S. I couldn't find the brand or even a similar product in the UK. I bought what I assumed was the same and used it my first morning at my in-laws. My eyes burned and watered badly as I realised it wasn't the same at all. Eventually, I found a similar product at the optician's. Years later, the same brand is now sold everywhere here.
I marvelled and puzzled over the differences between the two countries and would try to discuss them with my new neighbours and HTB's friends, relatives, and colleagues. That is when I discovered a deep-seated distrust and dislike of Americans in the UK. "Oh, we know," they would exclaim sarcastically, "everything is bigger and better in America." Well, actually, that isn't what I was saying. "Aren't all Americans rather parochial?" they would ask. Well, no more than the people around here, I would want to say.
Hey, I thought, what about the British politeness? I wasn't seeing any evidence of it. Maybe I was fitting their stereotype of an American -- loud, brash, fat (though I certainly wasn't), wearing jeans and trainers (tennis shoes).
Never mind. I had so much to learn. In my first week I decided to take a walk down by the beach, which was only a few blocks away. As I turned left onto the Promenade, a strong wind blew me back several feet. I retreated to our home. When my husband came home, I assailed him: "You didn't tell me about the wind."
I missed my cats, my friends, my job even. I missed having people to talk to and laugh with. After they'd been in total quarantine for two weeks, I was allowed to visit my cats as often as I wished. That is why and how I learned to drive in this country. I had to see my cats, who were my only link to my past life. I have subsequently met Americans who will not drive in the UK, and I feel deeply sorry for them.
I visited the cats three times a week, bringing treats each time. They were housed in a cell six feet wide by seven feet long. It had a concrete floor and a loft space where they slept, with a little walkway to the floor. The roof was made of corrugated fiberglass. There were about twenty such cells, ten on each side, for cats. At the rear were the dogs, who would bark constantly. In the six months my cats were there I saw only two other owners. In fairness, some people probably lived a great distance and found it difficult to visit. I became familiar with the other cats. Joe from Hong Kong lived across from my cats. I would roll treats into his cell, though he didn't need them. He was very fat. Next door to my cats were two Burmese, a mother and son. One day when I arrived I noticed there was only one. I asked one of the girls who worked there what happened to the other one. She had died. It was not uncommon for animals to die in quarantine. Though their physical needs were met, they didn't get a lot of attention.
One time when I was there, one of my cats decided he'd had enough and made a run for the door. He made the mistake of turning left instead of right, though. If he'd turned right, he'd have been a free man, but turning left just meant more cells. I cried many times when I was there. I would bring newspapers and magazines and sit on the cold concrete floor and hold my cats and stroke them and apologise for making them live like this. I promised them they'd never have to go on an airplane again or live like this again. Then I'd dry my tears and drive back through the worst streets of Liverpool and through the tunnel to my new home.
Sometimes I would stop off at the supermarket on the way home. Here I was met with more frustration as I tried to find products commonly sold in the U.S. Some were there but with different names. I decided I needed to learn to cook properly so read my Joy of Cooking from cover to cover but had to learn how to convert measurements. I still struggle with butter. And the sugars. In the U.S. we get two choices -- white and brown. In the UK we have caster sugar, golden caster sugar, granulated sugar, demerera sugar, light brown sugar, dark brown sugar, and molasses sugar. There might be more but that's what I recall. Caster sugar is for baking. The British use demerera sugar in coffee but never in tea and granulated sugar in tea but never in coffee. And, oh yes, it's morning coffee and afternoon tea, except for first thing in the morning. I couldn't stomach tea with milk and sugar in the morning so bought a coffee maker as soon as possible. Flour is also a more complicated matter. There's plain flour, self-raising flour, strong white flour, wholemeal flour, etc. I learned eventually through a variety of mishaps that self-raising flour is equal to the American flour.
HTB had been in the habit of going to the pub three nights a week with his neighbour and a friend. He wanted me to join him, which I eagerly did. Pub culture was a revelation to me. I was fascinated by the different characters who peopled our local. Tom, the toothless old man who used a rope instead of collar and lead on his dog. Crasher, an older gentleman who earned this sobriquet by drinking eight pints of bitter and then attempting to back his car out of of the car park. Fat Harry, the landlord, and his wife Rita, who had meat-cleaver arms. When the pub owners decided to turn it into a wine bar a few years later, we moved our business to another pub. Here were a host of new characters. Volare, so named because he would start singing this song after imbibing a certain amount of beer. The UTBs, a group of men and women who earned the name when my husband overheard one of the men tell another, "She likes it up the bum." One fellow turned up in a T-shirt no matter the weather. We saw him recently. He still wears only a T-shirt. Many of the young people who went to that pub have grown up and married and had children. Many of the young men work for the post office now.
Conversation was difficult for me. Not only could I not hear the more softly spoken British, but the accents and different colloquialisms threw me. I would have to ask HTB and others to repeat themselves many times and still not understand what they were trying to say. This still happens to me, particularly in noisy, crowded places. HTB would have to interpret for me. Even still, I didn't get many of his jokes or those of others. People would make cultural references that had no meaning to me. I understand them now but can't quite make the bridge across the cultural gap since I didn't grow up here.
Next time I will write about the wedding and the cultural divides I encountered in trying to plan it.
Monday, 18 February 2008
Sunday, 17 February 2008
Dos and Don'ts of Skiing Holidays
1. And this is very important. DO NOT, repeat, DO NOT LOSE YOUR PASSPORT. OR YOUR CHILDREN'S PASSPORTS. THIS IS VERY IMPORTANT. IF YOU LOSE YOUR PASSPORT, LOTS OF PEOPLE WILL BE VERY PISSED OFF AT YOU, AND RIGHTLY SO. LOTS OF PEOPLE WILL BE INCONVENIENCED BY YOU. DON'T EVER LOSE YOUR PASSPORT.
2. If you do lose your passport, however, save your tears for the right moment, say, at the EasyJet counter when they're about to not let you on board.
3. Make sure you apologise to everyone, especially your husband.
4. Be kind to your daughter after she loses her phone with all her pictures of her dog on it. Remember, you fucked up much, much worse.
5. Do not ski in front of a pink terrorist. She will blindside you and take you out if you do.
6. Do not eat cabbage in front of your friends. They will make fart jokes all week long if you do.
7. Do not think that just because you've known someone a very long time that you actually get along or even have much in common anymore.
8. Thank your husband when you get home. You wouldn't be getting home if he hadn't called all the appropriate embassies.
2. If you do lose your passport, however, save your tears for the right moment, say, at the EasyJet counter when they're about to not let you on board.
3. Make sure you apologise to everyone, especially your husband.
4. Be kind to your daughter after she loses her phone with all her pictures of her dog on it. Remember, you fucked up much, much worse.
5. Do not ski in front of a pink terrorist. She will blindside you and take you out if you do.
6. Do not eat cabbage in front of your friends. They will make fart jokes all week long if you do.
7. Do not think that just because you've known someone a very long time that you actually get along or even have much in common anymore.
8. Thank your husband when you get home. You wouldn't be getting home if he hadn't called all the appropriate embassies.
Thursday, 7 February 2008
Moving to England
On April 26 I celebrate an anniversary. Not a wedding anniversary, but the anniversary of my immigration to England. It will be 16 years since I packed up my life and possessions, what were left of them, to move to a Brave New World for me. I had never done anything quite so gutsy before or since.
My husband and I had a whirlwind courtship necessitated by long distance and the urgency to begin a new life together. He didn't want to move to the U.S., saying his career prospects were better in the UK. I hastily (perhaps too hastily) agreed to make the big move instead. Why? I had a solid career myself that was going places. But it was going places I wasn't sure I wanted to go to.
I had spent 11 years in journalism, worked at three newspapers in 9 different jobs. I understood the workings of newspaper journalism quite well, perhaps too well. In those 11 years I'd watched corporate thinking take over the management of newsrooms. All the news that's fit to print? Try all the news that can be crammed into the paltry amount of space left between the ads. News that was not event-led, but advertiser-led. Managers (any sort of editor) were forced to work longer and longer hours as the corporate honchos tried to cut costs by not paying the reporters overtime or letting reporters go. We editors were on a fixed salary and not eligible for overtime. In the discontented winter before I left, we were forced to take furlough days, days in which we worked but weren't paid at all.
Though the offer of becoming a publisher was dangled in my face, I decided that for once my personal life would take precedence over my professional life. I wanted to marry this Englishman, have his babies, cook his dinner. I didn't want irate readers phoning me at home over the weekend, incensed over a two-inch police report in which their (over 21) son was named. I didn't want to argue with a woman over whether it was THE Ukraine or just Ukraine. I didn't want a former colleague calling me up in tears because one of my reporters had found out he was having an affair and his wife had tried to commit suicide and please, please don't print this (of course I didn't print it and not because he was a former colleague). I didn't want to fire an incompetent reporter on my last day at work just so my successor could start with a clean slate (though that was the last thing I had to do on my last day at work).
I decided to give my employers six weeks' notice. That should give them plenty of time to find someone to take my place, I reasoned. It took them about six minutes. I should have just given them two weeks, and then the ambitious assistant city editor who took my place would have had less time to make me feel like a lame duck. But I was a responsible employee.
I needed six weeks to clear out my possessions anyway. I ran several classified ads and sold everything but my clothes and some family heirlooms. In retrospect I wish I hadn't sold quite so much, but my then-fiance assured me there was no room in his house for my bedroom furniture or my dining table and chairs. All electrical goods had to go anyway. I helped furnish one woman's holiday home. A Swiss engineer bought all my bedroom furniture, including my pillows and unwashed bedlinen (he wanted it that night).
I didn't get rid of my cats, Bubby and Otis. As the apartment became emptier, their hiding spaces became more creative. A basket. The radiator. The very top shelf in the closet. They must have sensed that their lives were about to change dramatically too, and not necessarily for the better.
There is a lot of red tape involved in moving to the UK. I made an appointment for an interview with someone at the British Consulate in NYC. He wanted to know why I wanted to move to the UK, how I met my husband-to-be, what HTB did for a living, would he be able to support me (for I wouldn't be allowed to work till after we were married and my husband had satisfied a Home Office employee that he was happy with the marriage). He told me I needed to apply for leave to remain as a fiancee. It was vital that I get this right because otherwise they would have the right to deport me if I applied in some other capacity. The form I had to fill in was peppered with questions about how I would be supported before the marriage because I would not be eligible for state benefits. Many of these questions seemed to be written for people from, say, Pakistan or Bangladesh. Hubby-to-be needed to show his passport. He sent me a copy. That wasn't good enough. He had to appear in person with the passport. So over he came a month before the Big Move. We took this opportunity to visit my family and introduce him. Fortunately, he passed muster with them (though I'd have married him anyway)
Then we needed to figure out what to do with the cats. The UK has strict laws about bringing animals in from other countries (though they've relaxed them somewhat since then for animals from EU countries). They have to go into quarantine for six months at government-approved catteries and kennels. HTB had the job of finding a decent one in our area. He found one on the other side of Liverpool, near Aintree. It would cost a fair amount of money. So would flying them over. On one of the many forms we had to fill in, we had to say what the value of the cats were. Well, they were rescue cats, so in money terms not a lot. But in emotional terms, quite a lot.
We chose to fly over with British Airways because they had a good reputation for dealing with animals. HTB had asked BA in Manchester how the cats would be put on the plane and was told we just needed to show up with them when we checked in. I thought I'd better ask the BA people in New York. It was far more complicated than that. They had to have a certain size box with a water container. We had to go to a completely different part of the airport and we had to give BA a lot of notice. Thank god I asked. We dropped them off on the day we were flying out before unloading our baggage and returning the rental car. I felt horrible about leaving the cats and tried not to think about it. As we sat in the departure lounge, our names were called. We went up to the desk, thinking it was about the cats. No, we'd just been upgraded to first class.
I settled into my seat, sipped champagne, and stared out the window searching for my kitties. I saw them being loaded on. I watched the tough New Yorker who had driven them there poke his finger into the box, obviously trying to soothe them. I turned away, tears in my eyes. They'll be all right, I told myself. The flight attendant came along and took our food order and poured more champagne. I was excited! I was sad! I was looking forward to a new life.
As I shuffled through the immigration queue at Manchester Airport, I realised that this was my Ellis Island. If only the short, grey-haired, humourless official had been more welcoming.
My next post may not be for a while as I'm leaving Friday for the skiing week. When I return I will write more about this.
My husband and I had a whirlwind courtship necessitated by long distance and the urgency to begin a new life together. He didn't want to move to the U.S., saying his career prospects were better in the UK. I hastily (perhaps too hastily) agreed to make the big move instead. Why? I had a solid career myself that was going places. But it was going places I wasn't sure I wanted to go to.
I had spent 11 years in journalism, worked at three newspapers in 9 different jobs. I understood the workings of newspaper journalism quite well, perhaps too well. In those 11 years I'd watched corporate thinking take over the management of newsrooms. All the news that's fit to print? Try all the news that can be crammed into the paltry amount of space left between the ads. News that was not event-led, but advertiser-led. Managers (any sort of editor) were forced to work longer and longer hours as the corporate honchos tried to cut costs by not paying the reporters overtime or letting reporters go. We editors were on a fixed salary and not eligible for overtime. In the discontented winter before I left, we were forced to take furlough days, days in which we worked but weren't paid at all.
Though the offer of becoming a publisher was dangled in my face, I decided that for once my personal life would take precedence over my professional life. I wanted to marry this Englishman, have his babies, cook his dinner. I didn't want irate readers phoning me at home over the weekend, incensed over a two-inch police report in which their (over 21) son was named. I didn't want to argue with a woman over whether it was THE Ukraine or just Ukraine. I didn't want a former colleague calling me up in tears because one of my reporters had found out he was having an affair and his wife had tried to commit suicide and please, please don't print this (of course I didn't print it and not because he was a former colleague). I didn't want to fire an incompetent reporter on my last day at work just so my successor could start with a clean slate (though that was the last thing I had to do on my last day at work).
I decided to give my employers six weeks' notice. That should give them plenty of time to find someone to take my place, I reasoned. It took them about six minutes. I should have just given them two weeks, and then the ambitious assistant city editor who took my place would have had less time to make me feel like a lame duck. But I was a responsible employee.
I needed six weeks to clear out my possessions anyway. I ran several classified ads and sold everything but my clothes and some family heirlooms. In retrospect I wish I hadn't sold quite so much, but my then-fiance assured me there was no room in his house for my bedroom furniture or my dining table and chairs. All electrical goods had to go anyway. I helped furnish one woman's holiday home. A Swiss engineer bought all my bedroom furniture, including my pillows and unwashed bedlinen (he wanted it that night).
I didn't get rid of my cats, Bubby and Otis. As the apartment became emptier, their hiding spaces became more creative. A basket. The radiator. The very top shelf in the closet. They must have sensed that their lives were about to change dramatically too, and not necessarily for the better.
There is a lot of red tape involved in moving to the UK. I made an appointment for an interview with someone at the British Consulate in NYC. He wanted to know why I wanted to move to the UK, how I met my husband-to-be, what HTB did for a living, would he be able to support me (for I wouldn't be allowed to work till after we were married and my husband had satisfied a Home Office employee that he was happy with the marriage). He told me I needed to apply for leave to remain as a fiancee. It was vital that I get this right because otherwise they would have the right to deport me if I applied in some other capacity. The form I had to fill in was peppered with questions about how I would be supported before the marriage because I would not be eligible for state benefits. Many of these questions seemed to be written for people from, say, Pakistan or Bangladesh. Hubby-to-be needed to show his passport. He sent me a copy. That wasn't good enough. He had to appear in person with the passport. So over he came a month before the Big Move. We took this opportunity to visit my family and introduce him. Fortunately, he passed muster with them (though I'd have married him anyway)
Then we needed to figure out what to do with the cats. The UK has strict laws about bringing animals in from other countries (though they've relaxed them somewhat since then for animals from EU countries). They have to go into quarantine for six months at government-approved catteries and kennels. HTB had the job of finding a decent one in our area. He found one on the other side of Liverpool, near Aintree. It would cost a fair amount of money. So would flying them over. On one of the many forms we had to fill in, we had to say what the value of the cats were. Well, they were rescue cats, so in money terms not a lot. But in emotional terms, quite a lot.
We chose to fly over with British Airways because they had a good reputation for dealing with animals. HTB had asked BA in Manchester how the cats would be put on the plane and was told we just needed to show up with them when we checked in. I thought I'd better ask the BA people in New York. It was far more complicated than that. They had to have a certain size box with a water container. We had to go to a completely different part of the airport and we had to give BA a lot of notice. Thank god I asked. We dropped them off on the day we were flying out before unloading our baggage and returning the rental car. I felt horrible about leaving the cats and tried not to think about it. As we sat in the departure lounge, our names were called. We went up to the desk, thinking it was about the cats. No, we'd just been upgraded to first class.
I settled into my seat, sipped champagne, and stared out the window searching for my kitties. I saw them being loaded on. I watched the tough New Yorker who had driven them there poke his finger into the box, obviously trying to soothe them. I turned away, tears in my eyes. They'll be all right, I told myself. The flight attendant came along and took our food order and poured more champagne. I was excited! I was sad! I was looking forward to a new life.
As I shuffled through the immigration queue at Manchester Airport, I realised that this was my Ellis Island. If only the short, grey-haired, humourless official had been more welcoming.
My next post may not be for a while as I'm leaving Friday for the skiing week. When I return I will write more about this.
Wednesday, 6 February 2008
Somebody Likes Me
I have some catching up to do. First, some very kind people have given me awards. Kelly and Debio have given me this award:
And -ann gave me this award:
Thank you all from the bottom of my heart. I shall ponder who next to bestow these on.
In the meantime let me tell you what's been happening. I had a lovely lunch and walk with Pixie yesterday. She wanted to see my beach (well, it's not "my" beach but you know what I mean). But our glorious morning turned to rain so we went to the park instead. Then, as happens so frequently in this country, it cleared up a bit so we went to a part of the beach. Sadly, though, I don't think she got to see it at its best. Next time, Pixie.
I also have been trying to deal with insurance companies. Maddening! They won't be able to take our car in for repairs till tomorrow. And they wouldn't authorise a hire car till late yesterday, which would be replaced tomorrow anyway by a courtesy car. They haven't bothered to contact the independent witness to the accident and are saying they're going to accept dual liability. I lost it on the phone and told the guy that while I'm sure this is just a routine thing for him, it has been very stressful for our family and that my husband and daughter could have been killed in that accident had my husband not been such a good driver. That shut him up.
There have been quite a few near-misses lately in my life, what with my mother's mammogram, the accident, my husband's job (which is still up in the air), my dog nearly running out into the road yesterday. Someone is trying to tell me something, I think. And I think it's about my priorities and what's important in life. I thought I had those straight in my life but maybe not.
I've been flitting around different blogs that participate in Fun Monday. It's been very interesting to read others' Bucket Lists. Many (mostly American) have said they'd like to live in another country. That ties into a post I've been working on about my immigration experience, which I will post tomorrow. Living in another country can be a daunting experience, much more difficult than you can imagine. Of course, it all depends on why and how long you plan to live there. I wouldn't say I went in with my eyes wide open. No, they were covered by my idealistic, lovelorn, rosy-coloured glasses, which got ripped off pretty damn quickly. But enough. Stay tuned to tomorrow.
And -ann gave me this award:
Thank you all from the bottom of my heart. I shall ponder who next to bestow these on.
In the meantime let me tell you what's been happening. I had a lovely lunch and walk with Pixie yesterday. She wanted to see my beach (well, it's not "my" beach but you know what I mean). But our glorious morning turned to rain so we went to the park instead. Then, as happens so frequently in this country, it cleared up a bit so we went to a part of the beach. Sadly, though, I don't think she got to see it at its best. Next time, Pixie.
I also have been trying to deal with insurance companies. Maddening! They won't be able to take our car in for repairs till tomorrow. And they wouldn't authorise a hire car till late yesterday, which would be replaced tomorrow anyway by a courtesy car. They haven't bothered to contact the independent witness to the accident and are saying they're going to accept dual liability. I lost it on the phone and told the guy that while I'm sure this is just a routine thing for him, it has been very stressful for our family and that my husband and daughter could have been killed in that accident had my husband not been such a good driver. That shut him up.
There have been quite a few near-misses lately in my life, what with my mother's mammogram, the accident, my husband's job (which is still up in the air), my dog nearly running out into the road yesterday. Someone is trying to tell me something, I think. And I think it's about my priorities and what's important in life. I thought I had those straight in my life but maybe not.
I've been flitting around different blogs that participate in Fun Monday. It's been very interesting to read others' Bucket Lists. Many (mostly American) have said they'd like to live in another country. That ties into a post I've been working on about my immigration experience, which I will post tomorrow. Living in another country can be a daunting experience, much more difficult than you can imagine. Of course, it all depends on why and how long you plan to live there. I wouldn't say I went in with my eyes wide open. No, they were covered by my idealistic, lovelorn, rosy-coloured glasses, which got ripped off pretty damn quickly. But enough. Stay tuned to tomorrow.
Monday, 4 February 2008
Fun Monday IV: My (Kick the) Bucket List
Tiggerlane over at The Neophyte Blogger is hosting this week's Fun Monday. The assignment: Have you heard of The Bucket List? Well, that's what I want from you! Make a list of things you want to do before you die. It must be at least five items - and you can make it as long as you desire. Photos are optional. And let's hear about some of the wackiest, most bizarre to-do's on your Bucket List!
I've been thinking about this one a lot. My husband and daughter were in a car accident on Saturday that could have been so, so much worse. I could have lost two-thirds of my family. But I didn't. And there's not a scratch on them, though the car is looking much the worse for wear. So this accident has added a certain poignance to the assignment. What do I want to do before I kick the bucket?
1. Move back to the States to get reacquainted with my family. The years and the distance have made us virtual strangers. Before I die, I want to get to know them better and in a different way.
2. Hike to the bottom of the Grand Canyon, then go white-water rafting, then hike back up, then retire to a spa to have my sore muscles tended to.
3. Hire a boat and crew and sail around the world to different islands and countries to toast each and every sunset with a different cocktail every day.
4. Write that book that I think about all the time, but never do anything about.
5. Read the books I've always wanted to read but never seem to have the time for, including everything by Dickens, one of the best observers of human nature ever.
6. Sir Anthony Hopkins recently celebrated his 70th birthday by returning to his hometown in South Wales and having a huge party. He invited people he went to school with way back when and others from his past and present. I'd love to do the same -- go back to Tampa and get together with a load of people I grew up with, used to work with, and are friends with now. I love a good party!
7. Travel all over the world staying in the best hotels and eating exquisite food.
8. Most of all, I want to tell my husband, daughter, and son every day that I love them dearly, and life is not worth living without them.
That's my list. What's yours?
I've been thinking about this one a lot. My husband and daughter were in a car accident on Saturday that could have been so, so much worse. I could have lost two-thirds of my family. But I didn't. And there's not a scratch on them, though the car is looking much the worse for wear. So this accident has added a certain poignance to the assignment. What do I want to do before I kick the bucket?
1. Move back to the States to get reacquainted with my family. The years and the distance have made us virtual strangers. Before I die, I want to get to know them better and in a different way.
2. Hike to the bottom of the Grand Canyon, then go white-water rafting, then hike back up, then retire to a spa to have my sore muscles tended to.
3. Hire a boat and crew and sail around the world to different islands and countries to toast each and every sunset with a different cocktail every day.
4. Write that book that I think about all the time, but never do anything about.
5. Read the books I've always wanted to read but never seem to have the time for, including everything by Dickens, one of the best observers of human nature ever.
6. Sir Anthony Hopkins recently celebrated his 70th birthday by returning to his hometown in South Wales and having a huge party. He invited people he went to school with way back when and others from his past and present. I'd love to do the same -- go back to Tampa and get together with a load of people I grew up with, used to work with, and are friends with now. I love a good party!
7. Travel all over the world staying in the best hotels and eating exquisite food.
8. Most of all, I want to tell my husband, daughter, and son every day that I love them dearly, and life is not worth living without them.
That's my list. What's yours?
Saturday, 2 February 2008
You Know It's a Bad Night When.....
1. Frenemy is actually your best friend.
2. Your other friends are falling asleep in their soup and when they are awake can only complain about how stressful their week has been.
3. The restaurant is full of men, but not "quality" men. Rather, those that part their hair by their ears and comb it over.
4. The expected snow is actually hail.
5. One of your friends asks if you've had a hectic day because you look so tired. Actually, you've had a restful day and thought you looked pretty damn good.
6. Your big night out, which was planned a month ago and which you eagerly looked forward to, is a big pain out for everyone else but Frenemy.
Well, never again. Frenemy and I are the oldest in this group and the only ones capable of handling a night out anymore. Sadly, we feel the demise of the group coming on. Too many other friends and commitments taking over. That's a shame because it's a time in our lives when we need our friends more than ever, but that's life.
2. Your other friends are falling asleep in their soup and when they are awake can only complain about how stressful their week has been.
3. The restaurant is full of men, but not "quality" men. Rather, those that part their hair by their ears and comb it over.
4. The expected snow is actually hail.
5. One of your friends asks if you've had a hectic day because you look so tired. Actually, you've had a restful day and thought you looked pretty damn good.
6. Your big night out, which was planned a month ago and which you eagerly looked forward to, is a big pain out for everyone else but Frenemy.
Well, never again. Frenemy and I are the oldest in this group and the only ones capable of handling a night out anymore. Sadly, we feel the demise of the group coming on. Too many other friends and commitments taking over. That's a shame because it's a time in our lives when we need our friends more than ever, but that's life.
Thursday, 31 January 2008
Urban Legends That Should Die
Below is an email I received recently from a relative. I'm sure she meant well, but she is misinformed. I check a lot of emails on snopes.com now because so much misinformation is spread through the cyber universe. I checked this one out too. My first clue was the name of the hospital. It's Johns Hopkins. Some of it might be just good sense, like having a good diet. But a lot of it is plain malarkey. And it could be dangerous too.
AFTER YEARS OF TELLING PEOPLE CHEMOTHERAPY IS THE ONLY WAY TO TRY (TRY
BEING THE KEY WORD) AND ELIMINATE CANCER, JOHN HOPKINS IS FINALLY
STARTING TO TELL YOU THERE IS AN ALTERNATIVE WAY .
Cancer Update from John Hopkins
1. Every person has cancer cells in the body. These cancer cells do not
show up in the standard tests until they have multiplied to a few
billion. When doctors tell cancer patients that there are no more cancer
cells in their bodies after treatment, it just means the tests are
unable to detect the cancer cells because they have not reached the
detectable size.
2. Cancer cells occur between 6 to more than 10 times in a person's
lifetime
3. When the person's immune system is strong the cancer cells will be
destroyed and prevented
from multiplying and forming tumors.
4. When a person has cancer it indicates the person has multiple
nutritional deficiencies. These
could be due to genetic, environmental, food and lifestyle factors.
5. To overcome the multiple nutritional deficiencies, changing diet and
including supplements will strengthen the immune system.
6. Chemotherapy involves poisoning the rapidly-growing cancer cells and
also destroys rapidly-growing healthy cells in the bone marrow,
gastro-intestinal tract etc, and can cause organ damage, like liver,
kidneys, heart, lungs etc.
7. Radiation while destroying cancer cells also burns, scars and damages
healthy cells, tissues and organs.
8. Initial treatment with chemotherapy and radiation will often reduce
tumor size. However prolonged use of chemotherapy and radiation do not
result in more tumor destruction.
9 When the body has too much toxic burden from chemotherapy and
radiation the immune system is either compromised or destroyed, hence
the person can succumb to various kinds of i nfections and
complications.
10. Chemotherapy and radiation can cause cancer cells to mutate and
become resistant and difficult to destroy. Surgery can also cause cancer
cells to spread to other sites.
11. An effective way to battle cancer is to starve the cancer cells by
not feeding it with the foods it needs to multiply.
CANCER CELLS FEED ON:
a. Sugar is a cancer-feeder. By cutting off sugar it cuts off one
important food supply to the cancer cells. Sugar substitutes like
NutraSweet, Equal,Spoonful, etc are made with Aspartame and it is
harmful. A better natural substitute would be Manuka honey or molasses
but only in very small amounts. Table salt has a chemical added to make
it white in color. Better alternative is Bragg's aminos or sea salt.
b. Milk causes the body to produce mucus, especially in the
gastro-intestinal tract. Cancer feeds on mucus. By cutting off milk and
substituting with unsweetened soya milk cancer cells are being starved.
c. Cancer cells thrive in an acid environment. A meat-based diet is
acidic and it is best to eat fish, and a little chicken rather than beef
or pork. Meat also contains livestock antibiotics, growth hormones and
parasites, which are all harmful, especially to people with cancer.
d. A diet made of 80% fresh vegetables and juice, whole grains,seeds,
nuts and a little fruits help put the body into an alkaline
environment.About 20% can be from cooked food including beans. Fresh
vegetable juices provide live enzymes that are easily absorbed and reach
down to cellular levels within 15 minutes to nourish and enhance growth
of healthy cells. To obtain live enzymes for building healthy cells try
and drink fresh vegetable juice (most vegetables including bean
sprouts)and eat some raw vegetables 2 or 3 times a d ay. Enzymes are
destroyed at
temperatures of 104 degrees F (40 degrees C).
e. Avoid coffee, tea, and chocolate, which have high caffeine. Green tea
is a better alternative and has cancer-fighting properties. Water-best
to drink purified water, or filtered, to avoid known toxins and heavy
metals in tap water. Distilled water is acidic, avoid it.
12. Meat protein is difficult to digest and requires a lot of digestive
enzymes. Undigested meat remaining in the intestines become putrified
and leads to more toxic buildup.
13. Cancer cell walls have a tough protein covering. By refraining from
or eat ing less meat it frees more enzymes to attack the protein walls
of cancer cells and allows the body's killer cells to destroy the cancer
cells.
14. Some supplements build up the immune system (IP6,
Flor-ssence,Essiac, anti-oxidants, vitamins, minerals, EFAs etc.) to
enable the body's own killer cells to destroy cancer cells. Other
supplements like vitamin E are known to cause apoptosis, or programmed
cell death, the body's normal method of disposing of damaged, unwanted,
or unneeded cells.
15. Cancer is a disease of the mind, body, and spirit. A proactive and
positive spirit will help the cancer warrior be a survivor. Anger,
unforgiveness and bitterness put the body into a stressful and acidic
environment. Learn to have a loving and forgiving spirit. Learn to relax
and enjoy life.
16. Cancer cells cannot thrive in an oxygenated environment. Exercising
daily, and deep breathing help to get more oxygen down to the cellular
level. Oxygen therapy is another means employed to destroy cancer cells.
1. No plastic containers in micro.
2. No water bottles in freezer.
3. No plastic wrap in microwave.
Johns Hopkins has recently sent this out in its newsletters. This
information is being circulated at Walter Reed Army Medical Center as
well.
Dioxin chemicals causes cancer, especially breast cancer.
Dioxins are highly poisonous to the cells of our bodies.
Don't freeze your plastic bottles with water in them as this releases
dioxins from the plastic.
Recently, Dr. Edward Fujimoto, Wellness Program Manager at Castle
Hospital , was on a TV program to explain this health hazard. He talked
about dioxi ns and how bad they are for us.. He said that we should not
be heating our food in the microwave using plastic containers.
This especially applies to foods that contain fat. He said that the
combination of fat, high heat, and plastics releases dioxin into the
food and ultimately into the cells of the body. In stead, he recommends
using glass, such as Corning Ware, Pyrex or ceramic containers for
heating food. You get the same results, only without the dioxin. So such
things as TV dinners, instant ramen and soups, etc., should be removed
from the container and heated in something else.
Paper isn't bad but you don't know what is in the paper. It's just safer
to use tempered glass, Corning Ware, etc. He reminded us that a while
ago some of the fast food restaurants moved away from the foam contain
ers to paper. The dioxin problem is one of the reasons.
Also, he pointed out that plastic wrap, such as Saran, is just as
dangerous when placed over foods to be cooked in the mi crowave. As the
food is nuked, the high heat causes poisonous toxins to actually melt
out of the plastic wrap and drip into the food. Cover food with a paper
towel instead.
Please, all of you, take the time to research these emails before sending them on. "Dr. Edward Fujimoto" isn't even a medical doctor!
Let's fight against the urban legends.
AFTER YEARS OF TELLING PEOPLE CHEMOTHERAPY IS THE ONLY WAY TO TRY (TRY
BEING THE KEY WORD) AND ELIMINATE CANCER, JOHN HOPKINS IS FINALLY
STARTING TO TELL YOU THERE IS AN ALTERNATIVE WAY .
Cancer Update from John Hopkins
1. Every person has cancer cells in the body. These cancer cells do not
show up in the standard tests until they have multiplied to a few
billion. When doctors tell cancer patients that there are no more cancer
cells in their bodies after treatment, it just means the tests are
unable to detect the cancer cells because they have not reached the
detectable size.
2. Cancer cells occur between 6 to more than 10 times in a person's
lifetime
3. When the person's immune system is strong the cancer cells will be
destroyed and prevented
from multiplying and forming tumors.
4. When a person has cancer it indicates the person has multiple
nutritional deficiencies. These
could be due to genetic, environmental, food and lifestyle factors.
5. To overcome the multiple nutritional deficiencies, changing diet and
including supplements will strengthen the immune system.
6. Chemotherapy involves poisoning the rapidly-growing cancer cells and
also destroys rapidly-growing healthy cells in the bone marrow,
gastro-intestinal tract etc, and can cause organ damage, like liver,
kidneys, heart, lungs etc.
7. Radiation while destroying cancer cells also burns, scars and damages
healthy cells, tissues and organs.
8. Initial treatment with chemotherapy and radiation will often reduce
tumor size. However prolonged use of chemotherapy and radiation do not
result in more tumor destruction.
9 When the body has too much toxic burden from chemotherapy and
radiation the immune system is either compromised or destroyed, hence
the person can succumb to various kinds of i nfections and
complications.
10. Chemotherapy and radiation can cause cancer cells to mutate and
become resistant and difficult to destroy. Surgery can also cause cancer
cells to spread to other sites.
11. An effective way to battle cancer is to starve the cancer cells by
not feeding it with the foods it needs to multiply.
CANCER CELLS FEED ON:
a. Sugar is a cancer-feeder. By cutting off sugar it cuts off one
important food supply to the cancer cells. Sugar substitutes like
NutraSweet, Equal,Spoonful, etc are made with Aspartame and it is
harmful. A better natural substitute would be Manuka honey or molasses
but only in very small amounts. Table salt has a chemical added to make
it white in color. Better alternative is Bragg's aminos or sea salt.
b. Milk causes the body to produce mucus, especially in the
gastro-intestinal tract. Cancer feeds on mucus. By cutting off milk and
substituting with unsweetened soya milk cancer cells are being starved.
c. Cancer cells thrive in an acid environment. A meat-based diet is
acidic and it is best to eat fish, and a little chicken rather than beef
or pork. Meat also contains livestock antibiotics, growth hormones and
parasites, which are all harmful, especially to people with cancer.
d. A diet made of 80% fresh vegetables and juice, whole grains,seeds,
nuts and a little fruits help put the body into an alkaline
environment.About 20% can be from cooked food including beans. Fresh
vegetable juices provide live enzymes that are easily absorbed and reach
down to cellular levels within 15 minutes to nourish and enhance growth
of healthy cells. To obtain live enzymes for building healthy cells try
and drink fresh vegetable juice (most vegetables including bean
sprouts)and eat some raw vegetables 2 or 3 times a d ay. Enzymes are
destroyed at
temperatures of 104 degrees F (40 degrees C).
e. Avoid coffee, tea, and chocolate, which have high caffeine. Green tea
is a better alternative and has cancer-fighting properties. Water-best
to drink purified water, or filtered, to avoid known toxins and heavy
metals in tap water. Distilled water is acidic, avoid it.
12. Meat protein is difficult to digest and requires a lot of digestive
enzymes. Undigested meat remaining in the intestines become putrified
and leads to more toxic buildup.
13. Cancer cell walls have a tough protein covering. By refraining from
or eat ing less meat it frees more enzymes to attack the protein walls
of cancer cells and allows the body's killer cells to destroy the cancer
cells.
14. Some supplements build up the immune system (IP6,
Flor-ssence,Essiac, anti-oxidants, vitamins, minerals, EFAs etc.) to
enable the body's own killer cells to destroy cancer cells. Other
supplements like vitamin E are known to cause apoptosis, or programmed
cell death, the body's normal method of disposing of damaged, unwanted,
or unneeded cells.
15. Cancer is a disease of the mind, body, and spirit. A proactive and
positive spirit will help the cancer warrior be a survivor. Anger,
unforgiveness and bitterness put the body into a stressful and acidic
environment. Learn to have a loving and forgiving spirit. Learn to relax
and enjoy life.
16. Cancer cells cannot thrive in an oxygenated environment. Exercising
daily, and deep breathing help to get more oxygen down to the cellular
level. Oxygen therapy is another means employed to destroy cancer cells.
1. No plastic containers in micro.
2. No water bottles in freezer.
3. No plastic wrap in microwave.
Johns Hopkins has recently sent this out in its newsletters. This
information is being circulated at Walter Reed Army Medical Center as
well.
Dioxin chemicals causes cancer, especially breast cancer.
Dioxins are highly poisonous to the cells of our bodies.
Don't freeze your plastic bottles with water in them as this releases
dioxins from the plastic.
Recently, Dr. Edward Fujimoto, Wellness Program Manager at Castle
Hospital , was on a TV program to explain this health hazard. He talked
about dioxi ns and how bad they are for us.. He said that we should not
be heating our food in the microwave using plastic containers.
This especially applies to foods that contain fat. He said that the
combination of fat, high heat, and plastics releases dioxin into the
food and ultimately into the cells of the body. In stead, he recommends
using glass, such as Corning Ware, Pyrex or ceramic containers for
heating food. You get the same results, only without the dioxin. So such
things as TV dinners, instant ramen and soups, etc., should be removed
from the container and heated in something else.
Paper isn't bad but you don't know what is in the paper. It's just safer
to use tempered glass, Corning Ware, etc. He reminded us that a while
ago some of the fast food restaurants moved away from the foam contain
ers to paper. The dioxin problem is one of the reasons.
Also, he pointed out that plastic wrap, such as Saran, is just as
dangerous when placed over foods to be cooked in the mi crowave. As the
food is nuked, the high heat causes poisonous toxins to actually melt
out of the plastic wrap and drip into the food. Cover food with a paper
towel instead.
Please, all of you, take the time to research these emails before sending them on. "Dr. Edward Fujimoto" isn't even a medical doctor!
Let's fight against the urban legends.
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