Things you miss...

Expat life is so hard to explain unless you've experienced it. My best friend growing up was an expat many times over. She would tell me things about her life abroad and I always thought I knew exactly what she meant, exactly what she was feeling. But now, many years later, I realize that I only had a vague understanding of what she was going through. Living in her shoes, so to speak, has given me a whole new appreciation.

What you don't realize, or at least you think you do until it's blatantly obvious that you don't, is how much you miss completely random, silly things. Today, as I was digging through my freezer for an after dinner snack, it hit me how much I miss TCBY Yogurt. Where on earth that came from, I have no idea! It's been years (at least 10) since I've lived anywhere near a TCBY and almost as long since I've had one of their fabulous frozen delights (thank god for a job that required travel and airports with decent food vendors). But, staring into the abyss of my freezer, this strange longing hit me...and it hit me harder knowing that since I am in England, I can do absolutely nothing about it.

Then there's the music. I'm a big rock/alternative fan...but I do have my roots in country music. And the fact that I can't just turn on the radio and hear country music is so alien to me. Here it's pretty much rock and pop, with a dash of classical, lots of talk, and the occasional show that will play an eclectic mix. And that's it. Over the years, I've become used to this. It's just the norm. But when I've been back in the states for a visit, that first blast of country coming from the radio reminds me what country I'm in...and that for a long time I've been a stranger in a foreign land.

And last, certain turns of phrase. It seems such a minor and obvious point. When in a foreign country it is expected that they won't talk the same as you. But the little things that don't even register with us when uttering it, can make a girl homesick when hearing it. I was in Sainsburys a while back, going through the checkout. Normally, the moment I open my mouth, I get the typical questions - so, what part of America are you from? do you like England? California, do you know any movie stars? But this day, the checker struck up a conversation that ran near to my heart - grocery stores. Being that I worked closely with grocery chains for quite some time, I am always curious to see how non-Americans view our supermarkets. This woman had visited the US many times and said that she found our stores fascinating...big, bright, welcoming. I smiled and agreed, British supermarkets are still behind the times in many aspects. But it was as I was taking the register receipt from her that the differences struck me the most. She said it was a pleasure talking to me and then paused and smiled, "Have a nice day, "she said, gushing that she always wanted to say that since being in the US (they don't do that in the UK). I had a huge grin on my face and said, "you too"...and almost fought tears in my eyes as it hit me how common that phrase is in the States, yet so foreign here.

Anyway, at some point I will find my TCBY again and be able to tune into a country radio station, it just may take a few more years. But until then, have a nice day.

Cows on the wall...

In our house, my husband and I take turns on who gets to decorate what room. Some rooms are a joint venture, a little bit of both of us, and then some are either his or hers. This time (in this house), the dining room is mine.

I don't have much in there. My chinks and spurs are hanging on the wall. I have an old wooden nail box from the ranch (probably 100 years old or more) on a shelf. And then there are my pictures of the ranch. Photos of my brothers working cattle, another of our mountain cow camp, and my favorite, one of a calf nestled in the dry grass.

Now, in the States, no one ever questioned my choice of displayed photos. But here in England, I have been asked on several occasions, "why do you have a picture of a cow on your wall?" And me, thinking I am the normal one, always find myself a bit surprised. Why would it be odd to have a picture of a cow on the wall? There are numerous famous paintings out there that prominently feature the bovine animal...and many people use them as centerpiece artwork. But perhaps it's that it is not a painting, nor a piece from a famous photographer (apologies to my sister-in-law), it's simply a lone calf staring into the camera. And perhaps it is that the sense of pride and tradition that follows farmers and ranchers in the US, doesn't quite translate in Europe.

I have a cow on my wall because it is part of who I am. When I see it, it reminds me of the heritage I come from. There is more to it than just the animal itself. It is also the blood, sweat, tears, dreams, and hard work that goes along with it. It is my personal history...much like the display of family photos and memorabilia is to others.

For my non-American friends, once I tell them why their is a cow on the wall, they usually continue the conversation with comments and questions like "you mean cowboys...just like in the movies?" And the answer is yes...only better.

Am I strange? I don't really think so, there are so many like me back home who have similar decorations. But over here, I guess I am a bit of a novelty. I am, as my friends here describe me, the girl with the cow on the wall.

A girl and her blue jeans...

Can there be anything more frustrating than the search for a good-fitting pair of jeans?

When we moved to the UK, I was still in the process of losing pregnancy weight. Never a pretty time for a woman. I came here with few clothes that fit, which included - gasp - only TWO pairs of blue jeans.

You have to understand. I am a blue jean girl. There have been attempts (by myself and others) to cure me of this, but it's been to no avail. Growing up on a ranch, working on a ranch, living in the country...well, blue jeans are part of my DNA. I can honestly say, prior to the arrival of our son, I never had less than 5 pair of jeans at any one time. My poor husband, who never wore jeans until he was out of high school (okay, he had one pair...just for the sake of having them), would look at me in confusion when I would tell him that I needed new jeans even though there were several pairs sitting in our closet already. Two pair of jeans was totally unacceptable. Yes, we were living in a town now. Yes, I didn't really do anything that merited a tough denim material. But I NEEDED them - plain and simple.

And so began our search for blue jeans in England.

I could stop here and just say that the mental institution only lets me out for good behavior so long as I don't go shopping anymore...but that would be jumping to the end of the story - and where's the fun in that!? No, seriously, in the effort to find good-fitting, not-too-trendy, affordable jeans, my poor husband has thought at times that a trip to the asylum may be the only answer.

Okay, I'm a bit picky about my jeans...but not horribly so. I'm not a trendsetter, especially where jeans are concerned. I like relatively plain ones. I grew up in Levi's 501s and also have a soft-spot for Gap's original boot cut. I do sometimes have one trendy pair in the closet for wearing out at night or to certain gatherings. But, all in all, I keep it simple. Sadly, though, moving to Europe also means moving to a more fashion-forward society. If you want extremely low cut or strangely faded/dyed denim or cutesy appliques, then this is your place. If you want plain 'ol blue jeans...well, then you should probably go home. Not to say they don't exist, but they are hard to find.

Also, I am not big, but I am also not a twig. In the States, this isn't a problem, but in England it is. Unless you look like pick-the-starlet-of-the-week, your options for jeans gets even smaller (no pun intended). You would think that everyone over here is the size of a model, but they're not. They look pretty much like...well, like me. What are they saying? If you're not 20-years-old and stick-thin, then you are relegated to a life of elastic waists and lightweight chambray?

After dragging my husband shopping on numerous occasions (I don't do this to torture him, I simply value his opinion), I have found some jeans that I can live with, even some that I like. Sadly, most of these were priced out of range. $100 for a pair of regular jeans! I'm sorry, but my country girl sensibilities scream "I don't think so." I have settled for a few pair of reasonably priced UK jeans, but they are not the loves of my life and therefore sit at the bottom of the pile and only come out for garden work or trips to our son's art class. Did I ever find jeans that I fell in love with? Yes. In the States when I went home for a visit.

Oh, I am sure others will tell you that finding and buying jeans in the UK is not that bad, and you know, they're probably right. But, for this cowgirl transplanted in the outside world, jeans are more than just clothing, they are a part of who I am. Even though I have four pair of them in my closet right now, I always have my eyes open for more.

And yes, I am still holding out hope for finding a pair to fall in love with here in England.

(By the way, my husband now owns 3 pairs of jeans. Hey, it's progress.)