Monday, July 13, 2009
I Am Here
I’ve always liked the John Mayer song, Why Georgia? As I waited to de-board the plane, balancing my carryon luggage on the seat next to me, feeling the humidity begin to work its way in around me, that song started to play from somewhere above.
“Am I living it right?” John asked.
I can remember driving home from work 5 years ago and asking myself that question as I listened to the song. “Not quite,” I thought. “But someday.” This time when I heard it, there was no question about it. Yes. Yes I was living it right. I am living it right.
Seeing Mr. Wonderful at the airport in his hip new British t-shirt further confirmed it. This is where I’m supposed to be right now. He feels like home.
He took me to a delicious little tapas restaurant for dinner that night. We polished off a bottle of red wine then walked to a pub called The Old Ship, where I proceeded to down another glass of chardonnay—telling him repeatedly, “You shouldn’t have given me this one! I’m drunk!”
It started to rain on our walk home, and my wet feet slipped out of my flip-flops about five times. California Girl: Welcome to Richmond upon Thames.
Yesterday we went into London proper and did some shopping at Harrods. Well, you might not really call it shopping… Mr. W did buy a heart monitor watch, but we were really there for the cheese. We bought 3 kinds, plus some salami and prosciutto. Then we had to buy frozen broccoli to keep it all cold in the bag while we walked around some more. The city was crazy busy—I much prefer the pace out here on the outskirts.
Although…the outskirts can be a bit crazy in their own special way. This morning I went for a walk in the huge park by the Penthouse, and I got lost for about 40 minutes. Being lost in the wilderness is a little scarier than the city, I think. At least in the city you can ask anyone you see for directions or buy a map. I had to follow the Canadian geese and the position of the sun. Okay not really…I asked some people…but it did take me awhile to find them. Pictures to come of the deer I hung out with.