Thursday, December 13, 2007
Other
The first annual MFI UK holiday party was a huge success. We secured a spot at l'Autre, a Polish-Mexican (sic) bistrot in Shepherd's Market, a small enclave in southwest Mayfair. With 100% company attendance (both John and I made it), we got the two-top in the window and were treated like kings. For starters, we got the story that must've been told 1000 times: How in the hell did you come up with a Polish-Mexican restaurant in London? The owner of 20 years, Ian (a Candadian, no less) explained that the spot opened up a century ago as a classic French bistrot transformed at some point (post-war, I believe) into a Mexican restaurant at the behest of the Mexican embassy down the street. On one fateful day in the 1980s the tenured Mexican chef received his European work permit and decided to move to Paris to be a street-performing marionetttier. (I'm not making this up.) Ian hired a Polish woman who claimed expertise in Mexican cuisine. Shockingly, she lacked such expertise (to be nice, we skipped the obvious question for Ian) and the Mexican eatery with the French bistrot name was primarily serving borscht, bellinis, perogis, etc., at least until she was nudged in a different direction. Fast forward to today, I'm not sure who's dowstairs cooking, but it is indeed a strange-looking menu.
History, schmistory - what a meal! Following our starters of salmon-stuffed bellinis and prawn & crabmeat-filled enchiladas, John and I both settled on the braised lamb shank with chorizo, chilis, and beans. Combined with a a Spanish rioja called Cune, it was just delicious. Desserts, ports, and thick Polish coffee you could paint a barn with wrapped us up in style. During the entire meal, Ian was bopping around the otherwise empty dining room listening to American golden oldies from the 1950s. This was a postmodernist's wet dream.
Everyone at the company got along (thankfully no fights) and we wrapped up on the bittersweet note of now not seeing each other until next year. To paraphrase, We'll always have l'Autre. Given the raging success of PolMexPalooza I, we already booked a table for next year's party (seriously): party of 3 (we figure we will have hired someone else by then) for 2:00pm on Thursday December 11, 2008. Any and all MAS employees are welcome to join. Just let us know and we'll change the reservation.
History, schmistory - what a meal! Following our starters of salmon-stuffed bellinis and prawn & crabmeat-filled enchiladas, John and I both settled on the braised lamb shank with chorizo, chilis, and beans. Combined with a a Spanish rioja called Cune, it was just delicious. Desserts, ports, and thick Polish coffee you could paint a barn with wrapped us up in style. During the entire meal, Ian was bopping around the otherwise empty dining room listening to American golden oldies from the 1950s. This was a postmodernist's wet dream.
Everyone at the company got along (thankfully no fights) and we wrapped up on the bittersweet note of now not seeing each other until next year. To paraphrase, We'll always have l'Autre. Given the raging success of PolMexPalooza I, we already booked a table for next year's party (seriously): party of 3 (we figure we will have hired someone else by then) for 2:00pm on Thursday December 11, 2008. Any and all MAS employees are welcome to join. Just let us know and we'll change the reservation.
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
Happy Birthday, Sarah!
We can't believe that Sarah turned 1 year old yesterday. Time has flown by. We're so blessed that she is growing up healthy and happy. It being a Tuesday night a few days before we leave town, we didn't do much for the official birthday. The boys made Dora the Explorer cupcakes, which I believe was more exciting for them than for her. It was a nice quiet night for just the family.
Sunday, December 9, 2007
Lazy Weekends in a Grey City
London is edging into winter. The quickly shortening days have taken on a monotonous quality of overcast skies and pervasive dampness. Sometimes it rains here, sometimes not, but no matter - it always seems wet. The clouds above Britain rest lower in the sky than anywhere else I know. They are clamped down on this city like a heavy lead plank; I've wondered whether it's claustrophobia and not the greyness that compels so many here to covet sunnier climes.
It's too soon to rank our new daily endurance against the notorious (though overated) Chicago winter. Certainly it's warmer here and the climate is less volatile. No big differences day to day, week to week. No surprises of waking up to 6 inches of snow or tempatures sharply dipping below zero. In London, it is what it is - every day.
During this transition, we have begun to cherish some quiet, lazy weekends at home on Hamilton Terrace. Like for all of you, the autumnal chill sparks the preturnatural urge to nest - a welcome reprieve from the weather and a perennial coda to the flurry of endless summer activities and the new school year routine. So much so and more for us this year as we have (dare I say) successfully transitioned to a different life far from Chicago. Our new home is all set; there's not much more for us to do in terms of fixing up and reorganizing. Not owning a car (nor intending to get one) is part of our experience; though we get around town just fine it clearly impacts how we live every day. It slows us down but don't jump to the conclusion that's a bad thing.
The family didn't leave the house yesterday. After a typically tiring work/school week for all of us, Saturday was a blissful mix of sleeping in, building towering skyscrapers out of Legos, painting, Chutes & Ladders, eating, napping, Peppa Pig, tidying up, bathtime, reading, and moments of doing absolutely nothing. Take one guess at Daddy Pig's favorite activity.
In this cheerful slow moving time, the kids continue to grow, to express themselves, to become whomever they'll be next, at least for a short while. Sarah is not walking yet, but she's close. She can now climb an entire flight of steps. She knows us by name, even if she can't yet speak. She's into everything her brothers do; there is no scrum she'll avoid no matter what potential harm she might incur. She is a little lady and she is one of the boys. Zach is Spiderman. With his precarious balancing moves on steps, walls, bathtubs, and bunkbeds, he most certainly will hurt himself someday. He is a chef and a grocer, so filled with joy at the mini-grocery cart and kitchen we gave him for Hanukkah. He is a big brother with a heart of gold and hands of steel; he is a little brother with such reverence for Ben. He is our court jester and our sensitive little boy. Ben is our artist, our painter, our speller and nascent reader, our serious one who belly laughs at Zach's goofiness. Ben is a kickboxer. He loves his Sunday morning class, to which he and I take the bus (the 46 or 187, he always reminds me) each week. Ben flags down the bus on the way there and presses the stop button on the way home. He loves challenges and games and will tell you the most important thing is having fun - when he loses. He's our little leader and so very, very sweet.
Tracy and I are loving watching all of this unfold before us. And on occasion getting away ourselves. Indeed, last night, Zoe, our sitter, watched the kids for the evening and we met up with some of the fellow parents from LJS for drinks at The Freemasons Arms, a lovely gastropub in Hampstead. Really nice people, really nice time.
We leave for the States in five days from now - a 3 week trip to Chicago, Michigan, and Arizona. We're so looking forward to seeing family and friends. A good remedy for some of the post-Thanksgiving homesickness that has crept up on us. After that long of a trip I'm sure we'll be ready to get back to "normal" life in London in early 2008, but for now we're excited to get through this busy week and land at O'Hare on Friday afternoon. See many of you soon.
It's too soon to rank our new daily endurance against the notorious (though overated) Chicago winter. Certainly it's warmer here and the climate is less volatile. No big differences day to day, week to week. No surprises of waking up to 6 inches of snow or tempatures sharply dipping below zero. In London, it is what it is - every day.
During this transition, we have begun to cherish some quiet, lazy weekends at home on Hamilton Terrace. Like for all of you, the autumnal chill sparks the preturnatural urge to nest - a welcome reprieve from the weather and a perennial coda to the flurry of endless summer activities and the new school year routine. So much so and more for us this year as we have (dare I say) successfully transitioned to a different life far from Chicago. Our new home is all set; there's not much more for us to do in terms of fixing up and reorganizing. Not owning a car (nor intending to get one) is part of our experience; though we get around town just fine it clearly impacts how we live every day. It slows us down but don't jump to the conclusion that's a bad thing.
The family didn't leave the house yesterday. After a typically tiring work/school week for all of us, Saturday was a blissful mix of sleeping in, building towering skyscrapers out of Legos, painting, Chutes & Ladders, eating, napping, Peppa Pig, tidying up, bathtime, reading, and moments of doing absolutely nothing. Take one guess at Daddy Pig's favorite activity.
In this cheerful slow moving time, the kids continue to grow, to express themselves, to become whomever they'll be next, at least for a short while. Sarah is not walking yet, but she's close. She can now climb an entire flight of steps. She knows us by name, even if she can't yet speak. She's into everything her brothers do; there is no scrum she'll avoid no matter what potential harm she might incur. She is a little lady and she is one of the boys. Zach is Spiderman. With his precarious balancing moves on steps, walls, bathtubs, and bunkbeds, he most certainly will hurt himself someday. He is a chef and a grocer, so filled with joy at the mini-grocery cart and kitchen we gave him for Hanukkah. He is a big brother with a heart of gold and hands of steel; he is a little brother with such reverence for Ben. He is our court jester and our sensitive little boy. Ben is our artist, our painter, our speller and nascent reader, our serious one who belly laughs at Zach's goofiness. Ben is a kickboxer. He loves his Sunday morning class, to which he and I take the bus (the 46 or 187, he always reminds me) each week. Ben flags down the bus on the way there and presses the stop button on the way home. He loves challenges and games and will tell you the most important thing is having fun - when he loses. He's our little leader and so very, very sweet.
Tracy and I are loving watching all of this unfold before us. And on occasion getting away ourselves. Indeed, last night, Zoe, our sitter, watched the kids for the evening and we met up with some of the fellow parents from LJS for drinks at The Freemasons Arms, a lovely gastropub in Hampstead. Really nice people, really nice time.
We leave for the States in five days from now - a 3 week trip to Chicago, Michigan, and Arizona. We're so looking forward to seeing family and friends. A good remedy for some of the post-Thanksgiving homesickness that has crept up on us. After that long of a trip I'm sure we'll be ready to get back to "normal" life in London in early 2008, but for now we're excited to get through this busy week and land at O'Hare on Friday afternoon. See many of you soon.
Tuesday, December 4, 2007
Escape from Sky TV
Faithful readers of the Adventure are probably wondering: Has British TV gotten any better? Some months ago, I expressed my dismay with the quality of the programming offered up by Sky TV. Indeed, now that I've grown more attuned to British culture and life has settled down enough for me to properly surf, one would think that I would have discovered a bevy of interesting shows. Alas, no. It still sucks.
To wit, the other night during prime time one of the major networks broadcast Escape from New York. We could all brainstorm several hundred movies more worthy of standard broadcast television, but evidently ITV (the major network in question) couldn't. Some of you will recall this apocalyptic tale of New York City after it had been transformed into America’s largest penal colony. The plot is ridiculous, the writing is atrocious, and the acting is overbearing. I hadn’t seen this movie in probably 20 years (and I swear I only watched 90 seconds of it last night – ask Tracy), but despite its shortcomings, it’s hard not to keep a soft spot for protagonist Snake Plissken (Kurt Russell) who fought like heck to, well, you know – escape from New York.
Two curious things struck me last night on my very quick trip down memory lane. The first is that EFNY, filmed in 1981, might very well be the true precursor to the much more influential First Blood (aka the original Rambo), made just one year later. Snake, like John Rambo, was a decorated veteran who fell on hard times and landed in a place he shouldn’t have been. Both had the requisite pursuing villains, though a major tip of the cap to Brian Dennehy over Lee Van Cleef (thank you, IMDB) on that score. Snake can’t be beat for his leather jacket and menacing eye patch, however. Rambo had to settle for wearing that burlap sack and twine get-up for most of his travails. All in, both are noble outlaws on the lamb.
The second thing is that despite the over-the-top portrayal of the city as a big jail (it's really quite absurd), the film actually fits well into the cinematic history of New York City. In between the elegance of Breakfast at Tiffany’s and the saccharine urbanity of You’ve Got Mail was a dire time for the real NYC, obviously best captured by Scorcese’s Taxi Driver – not only in his cinematography of a city turning down but in Travis Bickle's (de Niro!) palpable enmity toward the place and its people. Don’t worry – no comparisons between Jodie Foster and Adrienne Barbeau (Maude!) will happen here. Along with Taxi Driver, The Warriors (crazy sh*t – I still think about those costumed hooligans when I ride the NY subway), and others, EFNY reflects the nadir of our popular impressions of New York. How times (square) have changed.
Oh yeah, where was I? Right, crappy British television. We more or less give up. Our reprieve: Tracy and I are well into the second season of 24 on DVD and loving it. Don’t tell us what happens.
To wit, the other night during prime time one of the major networks broadcast Escape from New York. We could all brainstorm several hundred movies more worthy of standard broadcast television, but evidently ITV (the major network in question) couldn't. Some of you will recall this apocalyptic tale of New York City after it had been transformed into America’s largest penal colony. The plot is ridiculous, the writing is atrocious, and the acting is overbearing. I hadn’t seen this movie in probably 20 years (and I swear I only watched 90 seconds of it last night – ask Tracy), but despite its shortcomings, it’s hard not to keep a soft spot for protagonist Snake Plissken (Kurt Russell) who fought like heck to, well, you know – escape from New York.
Two curious things struck me last night on my very quick trip down memory lane. The first is that EFNY, filmed in 1981, might very well be the true precursor to the much more influential First Blood (aka the original Rambo), made just one year later. Snake, like John Rambo, was a decorated veteran who fell on hard times and landed in a place he shouldn’t have been. Both had the requisite pursuing villains, though a major tip of the cap to Brian Dennehy over Lee Van Cleef (thank you, IMDB) on that score. Snake can’t be beat for his leather jacket and menacing eye patch, however. Rambo had to settle for wearing that burlap sack and twine get-up for most of his travails. All in, both are noble outlaws on the lamb.
The second thing is that despite the over-the-top portrayal of the city as a big jail (it's really quite absurd), the film actually fits well into the cinematic history of New York City. In between the elegance of Breakfast at Tiffany’s and the saccharine urbanity of You’ve Got Mail was a dire time for the real NYC, obviously best captured by Scorcese’s Taxi Driver – not only in his cinematography of a city turning down but in Travis Bickle's (de Niro!) palpable enmity toward the place and its people. Don’t worry – no comparisons between Jodie Foster and Adrienne Barbeau (Maude!) will happen here. Along with Taxi Driver, The Warriors (crazy sh*t – I still think about those costumed hooligans when I ride the NY subway), and others, EFNY reflects the nadir of our popular impressions of New York. How times (square) have changed.
Oh yeah, where was I? Right, crappy British television. We more or less give up. Our reprieve: Tracy and I are well into the second season of 24 on DVD and loving it. Don’t tell us what happens.
Saturday, December 1, 2007
Ingrates
Sometimes it's important for families to just clear the air and try to move past sensitive topics. So here goes: Blue Teddy and Happy have never once said thanks for what thus far has been an all expenses paid European tour. They live pretty large. We know they are limited but as readers of the Adventure must surely concur, a simple acknowledgment of gratitude from time to time would be appreciated.
Potter Rules!
As you literary types know, young Harry's train to Hogwarts departed from a certain inconspicuous platform at King's Cross station. Us muggles traveled to Edinburgh via King's Cross in north London, not far from where we live. I had heard at some point that they posted this sign to please the many fans that came searching for it. Pretty cool.
More From Edinburgh
More snaps from the weekend away: the boys model their new scotch plaid scarves; a zoom photo of city center from up on the castle - see the festival where we rode the Ferris wheel; a wonderful family meal at Brown's on George Street - lots of warm comfort food and a family friendly spot; the guys underneath a sabre-tooth tiger at the Dynamic Earth museum - our Sunday morning activity at an interactive nature/geology center; the view looking east down Prince Street from the top of the Ferris wheel.
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