Bigger or Better: Life outside of Texas

Wait, another London post? Yes, indeed. There is SO MUCH in London and I didn't even SEE it all, let alone experience it. All I had was a week. What a memorable week. I don't know if I make a good representation of an American, but I'm going to propose that when an American thinks of London, he/she imagines Big Ben and the Tower of London. Oh, and the Changing Of The Guard. Greenish creepy lighting Houses of Parliament This is where the magic happens, guys. Bills become laws, discussions become arguments, houses become government. [What that government is, exactly, confuses me, but it involves a House of Commons to approve money, a House of Lords to do something or other secretive and not detailed on the Parliament website, and the Crown, which by their own account, is mostly ceremonial. A Prime Minister is in there somewhere. And that is An Explanation of the British Government according to an American who doesn't Understand It.] Next up, the Tower of Lond

While travelling the tube, several posters on the walls of the stations caught my attention. Why? Because they rhymed.  #travelbetterlondon Each poster was signed "Mayor of London." So I started to see how many poems he commissioned for the public good. Not saying they are poetry in the soul-stirring sense.  I learned that I should drink water, that I should not let trash block the doorways, that I should not listen to loud music, etc etc. Quite lyrical. Made the whole place seem idyllic. This photo has not been altered in any way Quite the pair of lions. They both look vaguely confused. Hyde Park I think the most romantic (in the literary sense) place in London was Westminster Abbey. An incredibly ornate, gilded tribute to memories; for centuries the location of the coronation, of burials, of actual monumentalization of Britain's citizens (with a small spattering of Americans, possibly Germans, I don't remember). Longfellow, Wilburforce

My google+ account decided to produce a book titled "Trip to Great Britain." I looked at it. And decided I preferred writing my own description of my trip to Great Britain, because the photos the google generator randomly chose for said book were incredibly boring. So I have chosen a topic, and it is, predictably according to my title, on gardens. When Melissa and I first got to London, our first destination was Kew Gardens. And it was fantastic. I learned that it takes 1000 pounds of a periwinkle from Madagascar to make less than 3 mL of the cancer drug vincristine. I learned that Britons call popsicles "ice lollies." And I discovered that humans are closely knit with trees. Get it? By the way, I should warn you that as we were packing for our trip, Melissa and I decided to pack things that we wouldn't naturally wear in the United States. So we look as hipster/hippie/weirdie as we ever will. This is a selfie. It took a couple tries.

I'm trying to figure out how to organize my presentation on the Great Britain trip. The sticking point is London. There is just so much in that city. So much to see and do, with so many overlapping points, that I don't know where to put the dividing sword of Separate Topics. I want to divide it into Museums, Food, and Entertainment, but the Museums are too many, the Food too few (by which I mean that it turns out that English food is quite bland, and so my friends and I opted for Indian and Chinese whenever possible. So, apparently, do the British.), and the Entertainment all-encompassing. So I shall do a cop-out. I shall talk about how I arrived  at the various places of interest in London. Firstly, and most obviously, the plane. Melissa and I flew a red-eye in the hopes that we could sleep on the plane and arrive in London bushy-tailed. That's not exactly what happened. We were too enthusiastic. We enthused over the comfort of the seats, the quality of the headphones,

 Melissa and I have gone to England. We will come back, bringing back souvenirs, but in the meantime, you just get my thoughts. At the start of our booked tour, our tour guide informed us that, as George Bernard Shaw said, we are two nations separated by a common language.  The first part of the statement is totally true. We are two nations. In fact, when discussing the history of England, Ann the Guide said that "it all" happened with George III. She never said what it was, but I am going with context clues, and it must be when the American colonies had, through political surgery, separated from the British Empire. The beginning of TWO NATIONS. I must point out that that happened some 300 years ago. We are no longer exactly sister nations, then; more like 10th cousins thrice removed (once by the Atlantic, once by 1776, and once by 1812). As the internet has existed for perhaps the later tenth of those years, thus breaking off a widespread exposure to each other, our simila

I am so excited to write this post. Mostly because it means I have internet. But the post should be good, too... Last night, spur of the moment, I became a factory worker. Assembly line. My job was to put empty jars onto a conveyor belt, where they would be filled with peanut butter and sealed and sent to food banks and Bishops' Warehouses and people's pantries. I was NOT to let an empty space appear on the conveyor belt, or else peanut butter would be squirted onto the floor instead of in a jar. I was also not to jostle the jars. Or let my hair show. Or, incidentally, wear earrings... As a volunteer, I had watched a safety video before being released onto the production floor, which told me to remove jewelry unless it could not be removed. [At this point in the video, it showed a hand with a CTR choose the right ring that apparently was not removable, so it was covered with a glove]. Our foreman then asked if we had any questions. I eyed his bifocals, and asked if gl