The Royalty in Me

Autumn and I are watching season three of the Office. We're on the episode where Phyllis and Bob Vance, Vance Refrigeration, get married and Kevin's Police tribute band plays the reception. The band is called Scrantonicity and I forgot how hi-larious it is.

I love our new place. Amy and I commented last night at how it feels like we're on vacation and that this glorious holiday is going to end soon.

Friday night, it snowed. And it snowed. Annnnd it snowed. Amy came home late and hollered at Autumn and I to look outside. Autumn was unfazed, and she made it clear that "she's from Nebraska." I, however, reverted to childhood and giddily scampered down the stairs.

Amy was already outside by the time I made it downstairs in my slippers and pajamas. Because I live in a state where winter is adversely affected by el nino and/or global warming (if you're into that), I don't have snow boots. I have several pairs of nice, leather boots, of which I do not want to ruin with ice and wet.

When I was a child, Tennessee got very large snows several times during the winter. Some of our snows would stick around for a week or longer. My parents couldn't afford to buy Ben and I those Napolean Dynamite moon-boot-style snow boots, so Mom just rubber-banded plastic bags around my ankles.

Desperate times call for desperate measures. And desperate measures mean I get really resourceful.

I spared you by photoshopping out my Friday night hair. You can thank me later.

By the time I rolled out of bed at 10 a.m. on Satuday morning, the snow had melted a bit, but we still had about four to five inches on the ground. You know the music that plays when Ralphie Parker wakes up on Christmas morning and sees the sparkling white landscape from his bedroom window? That music played for me Saturday morning.

Evidently it also played for my next door neighbors, because by the time I walked to the end of our sidewalk to take a picture of the house, they came walking around the corner with their two little girls. I was there to greet them with crusted drool, greasy Saturday morning hair, and my angry acne face. But, I was still thrilled to meet them. They're going to be fabulous neighbors. And hey...at least I wasn't wearing my homemade snow bags when I met them...

Saturday night, Amy and I hosted our very first official dinner party at the yet-to-be-named abode. I cooked a Pesto Caprese Pasta and Amy made a flavorful Berry-Bleu Balsamic salad. It was delightful food and delightful company.

I spent much of the remainder of the weekend unpacking boxes, arranging furniture, and searching for a place for us to crash in Paris. We've got our London hostel booked, but quality hostels are few and far between in Paris. They're either in the porn district or they're hundreds of dollars a night. So, now we're looking at vacation rentals and I've found some quaint apartments practically at the foot of the Eiffel Tower. More to come very soon.

Speaking of Europe, I got a preview of London Fog on Sunday afternoon. Natalie and I had coffee together at Starbucks, and I stared at that menu board for minutes trying to make up my mind. I don't know what got into me---normally I'm incredibly decisive. The quirky and flamboyant barista asked me what I like to drink. "Tea," I replied. He said, "Let me make you something special and I'm not going to tell you what it is. If you don't like it, I'll make you something else."

A few minutes later, he hands me the concoction. I sip and I love. I can taste Earl Grey, but I can't quite figure it out. It's called a "London Fog," and it's one part soy milk, one part hot water, two EG tea bags, and a shot of Vanilla syrup. I felt privileged, like he was my own personal coffee boy making his Queen afternoon tea. He obviously recognized the royalty in me.