Things to do over winter break:

*Take a trip to either Baltimore or NYC
*Re-watch a few seasons of The Wire in it’s brilliance
*Re-watch Lost in anticipation of final season of potential brilliance (obviously not of Wire standards, but up there)
*Clean my filthy apartment
*Organize  the plethora of law school materials that have been blatantly disregarded for about 2 months now
*Poker
*Do DCish stuff
*Cook a Christmas dinner 

*Maybe, just maybe, start blogging again now that I am one day away from surviving my first semester of law school.

And by weekend, I mean Sunday.  It’s been quiet around here lately just because I’ve been saving up for the best reason ever, as in VISITING THE U.S.A.

More on that in a second.  The saving up hadn’t been too difficult really until about a week ago when Spring suddenly arrived in London.  Considering the freak snowstorm that happened like a month ago, I’m not getting my hopes up about this god-like weather sticking around for long, but if this is it, I’ve fucking SURVIVED THE WINTER.  You know how much I can’t handle the cold.  Texas girl.

So today I got out and ended up going to the Camden Sunday market which I’d never been to before, and it has improved my feelings on Camden Town.  For those of you who don’t know, Camden is like the San Francisco/Austin part of London (see “Dr. Martens“).  Amy Winehouse lives there, for example.  A bit too many annoying little hipsters for my taste, because it’s like how San Francisco used to be 4 years ago but now it’s in style and the only ones still doing it are 16 year-olds.  So it’s those indie American Apparel 16 year-olds, plus the goths and punks of London, plus some addicts, plus the tourists.  You get Camden, kind of.

The market was fun though.  It’s charming, just like SF and Austin are in their strange quirky ways.  Hee hee, ho ho, it’s a boot store and it has a gigantic plaster boot on top of the shop.  I ended up getting a few cute things.

Went driving around more, stopped to look inside St. Paul’s Cathedral, around Parliament, over Tower Bridge, then to Brick Lane for a curry.  Also had some quality chocolate buttons.

I’d chat more but I’ve got things to attend to, like packing because I will be in Texas in 2 days.  Holla.

Well today goes down in the books as another one of Ben & Ash’s Super/Ridiculous/Crazy Sunday Adventures.  I’m not sure what it is with us and Sundays, but they have a thing for fulfilling at least one if not more than the adjectives just listed.  Last Sunday was Ben’s birthday and amongst the celebrations was a Jack the Ripper tour, where we were guided through a walking tour around London where all the murders happened, during a drizzly and after-dark evening.  Loved it.

This Sunday started off with a job interview in the morning…. for another Au Pair position, this time with an English family instead of Italian.  Oh, I forgot to tell you guys I got fired from the pub I was working at.  Well, fired/let go/a mutual agreement that it was better I didn’t work there anymore.  There was a Brazilian chef who worked there, and long story short, he got busted by the Feds, so the manager and I both felt it was best I didn’t work there anymore.  Anyway, I’m pretty desperate for a job now, which is how we’ve come to the interview I had this morning with the English family.  Good news is, this family has 2 kids instead of one, which we established in Italy was a misjudgment on my part.  Instead of being the entertainer for one kid, I’ve heard (as I have no experience to draw upon as an only-child myself) that when you have 2+ kids, they are simply entertained by each other instead of needing me to be the clown.  So I met the family, and first impressions were great.  One of the very first things that happened was that the 8 year-old daughter walked in and said “Daddy, you haven’t made my Challah yet!”  Automatic plus.  If he can make matzo ball soup, I’m sold on this family.  The mother is apparently a comedy actress on television, which I’ll have to investigate asap.  Beeeautiful old-style London home, very narrow and very tall.  The top floor bathroom has a free-standing massive white (porcelain maybe?) tub with claws for feet, and updated stainless steel faucets.  The girl and boy were watching animal planet, and when I asked if they liked animals, the girl responded excitedly, “Yes, I have FOUR!”  I was like oh shit, I’m going to have to clean up after a hamster and iguana and who knows what.  She took me up to her room to meet them, and introduced me to her four goldfish.  So, I left the house thinking I may or may not get the job.  They said they really liked me, and obvs the daughter and I were immediate BFFs, but I can’t drive a manual car, which was a big issue as they wanted me to drive to pick up/drop off the kids at- what Ben has informed me is- one of the most prominent elementary schools in London.

Two hours later I got a call from them asking me to start tomorrow.  So that should be fun, I’m thinking.  They really do seem like a nice family, and the hours are great too:  Mondays and Weds, 4:30-6:30pm, then Th 4:30-10:30.  The kids go to bed at 7:30, so for the next 3 hours I’ll be sitting in their 12-foot-high-ceiling living room watching their brand new 42-inch plasma tv.  Not too shabby.

Around midday Ben and I went to one of the local farmers’ markets to pick up some items needed for the Sunday Roast we had planned today, which turned out fabulously.  I’m serious, both of us decided our families wouldn’t believe us if they saw us– a whole damn chicken roasting in the oven, stuffed with rosemary, butter, garlic and lemon, complete with roasted veggies, potatoes, we even made a gravy from scratch.  And everything turned out so perfectly, we ate the entire chicken between the two of us.  Two complete non-cooks.  Who could have guessed?

It also so happened that today marked only the 2nd time snow had fallen while being in London.  The absence had been seriously starting to piss me off, because really, what a tease.  Snow is the only thing that makes the freezing cold acceptable to me, that way it’s at least cute cold instead of just miserable cold.  Well shit, did London decide to make up for lost time today.  Luckily for us, a light snow fell right before we had headed out to the farmers market, and pretty much as soon as we got home, it decided not to stop.  After our lovely roast dinner, we (I) thought it would be a good idea to go play in it.  So we bundled up and ran outside, started to build a snowman and soon gave up and decided to throw snowballs at the W3 buses passing by every few minutes.  We also tried picking a snowball fight with our neighbours, but the fools didn’t take the bait.  Lame.  After about 20 minutes or so we thought it best to head back inside since it was starting to fall pretty heavily, and we had a farmers market’s massive brownie waiting for us inside.  Except then Ben found out that what he thought to be keys in his pocket were actually just his headphones, and we were stuck outside until one of his two roommates came back home.  Both were out at a performance.  So, basically we were locked out of our house, while the snow began to fall heavier by the minute, for an undetermined amount of time.  Ben also neglected to bring his phone or any money, so we were pretty much f*cked.  I would have been mad as all hell had the snow not been so pretty, and I was still giddy about it, I think both of us were, so it was alright.  Also despite forgetting all the other things of importance, somehow he managed to have 1 cigarette and a lighter in his pocket.  Priorities.

After about half an hour of waiting, to our immense relief, the kid who cleans the nursery occupied on the first floor of our flat showed up and let us in.  He was momentarily confused why we screamed in delight to see him.

Since that random stroke of luck (Sundays I tell you), we’ve been cuddled up in bed drinking tea and watching W. the movie, which I absolutely loved.  Watch it immediately.  Now I’m sitting here writing this, and B is still in bed but now watching some Superbowl action, and he’s adorably way-too-entertained by all the foreign American Sporting action.  I, on the other hand, am extremely bummed that we do not get the same commercials here, and I thus can’t be bothered to sit through it.  Really though, the only disaster about today.

Other than that, it is becoming increasingly white outside, and according to the latest BBC weather update, ”forcasters predict the heaviest and most widespread snowfall for the past 6 years.”  We’re keeping our fingers crossed for B’s work being cancelled tomorrow morning.  There are more snowmen dying to be made.

So that’s my bad about not updating, AND LOOK WHO’S JUST FOUND HER NEW YEAR’S RESOLUTION!  Apparently I’ll be better at this now.

Christmas 2008 was really nice and relaxing but somehow interspersed with drama, like all family Christmasses should be.  I went with Ben to his family’s place in the England ‘burbs, where they are famous for their road construction of roundabouts, a little fact that seems to really capture the essence of that area.  Dinner included parsnips- a new favorite veggie of mine, a turkey, a goose, little sausages wrapped in bacon (another fave), brussel sprouts which I’ve decided aren’t actually that bad, and other typical fare.  Dessert included Christmas Pudding- a gigantic mound of fruitcake that is lit on fire after being doused with brandy- and shots of toffee flavoured vodka.

Also for dessert was chocolate cake because Ben’s mom knows that it’s his fave.  He cut a good chunk of it onto his plate, to which his 5 year-old niece Emma responded (in a little English accent), “Ben’s a bit greedy.”  I gave her a copy of Goodnight Moon for an xmas present.

I fell asleep at some point during election-night, but Ben diligently stayed awake throughout the wee hours of the morning to watch the coverage.  At one point, maybe around 5am or so when Obama was making his acceptance speech, I woke up.  Ben said he had a surprise for me, then threw back the window curtains to reveal this:

Sometimes I am convinced he loves America more than I do.

Here is something I find oddly entertaining:  The large majority of the time, whenever I tell Europeans that I’m from Texas, their immediate reaction is to do something stereotypically Texan.  Last night was my first night at my new bartending job (more on this below), and I met two of my coworkers, a French bartender and a Polish chef.  Both of them, upon their completely separate encounters of learning I am a Texan, responded in their best effort at a deep southern accent, saying “TEEEEEXUSSSSS!!!!” very elatedly.  Shortly after, they also both inquired regarding my affiliations with George W. Bush.

So, yeah, I guess I have a job now?  It’s at a tavern/pub/restaurant on Fleet Street, which is pretty cool to say.  I met a Canadian girl at this huge election-watching party, and she said her bar manager wanted to hire another girl since she was the only one.  I had a trial shift last night, bartending and serving for a private party for about 7 hours, and I didn’t mind it really.  It was fun making drinks and pouring the 19084390 pints of lager.  I also got free food, and made it a point to befriend the chef.  The tavern itself is pretty cute in the Old English style you’d imagine… really ornate ceilings, built in sofa-seating lining the outer walls of the area, stained glass, etc.  It’s only part-time, which I’m fine with for now because I work the 4pm-12am shift a couple days a week, they’re closed on Sundays, and I’ll only have to work maybe one Saturday afternoon shift a month.  I’ll take pictures soon.

Last weekend, Ben and I celebrated Guy Fawkes Night, which is a silly kind of celebration here.  If anyone has seen the movie V for Vendetta, you’ll have some idea of what I’m talking about.  Back in the 1600s (I think), there was an elaborate plan made by Guy and his homies to blow up Parliament with the use of fireworks, also employed to celebrate freedom from the reign of religion and monarchy or something.  It was foiled though, and so every year England celebrates the foiling of the gunpowder plot (“Remember, remember, the 5th of November, gunpowder, treason and plot”) by having a ton of fireworks everywhere.  It’s also referred to as Bonfire Night, because they reenact Guy Fawkes’ burning at the stake, but that’s a bit out there.  So we scootered up to the 2nd highest point in London where there was this huge city festival going on, and we watched a 40-minute fireworks display, complete with classical music blaring out of the speakers everywhere.  Pretty cute.

Anyway sorry but this had to be a quick one.  Going to the UK’s ‘burbs for the weekend to visit Ben’s family and meet his mom/mum.

THANK GOD I HAVE MONEY NOW.  No Tiny Tim Christmas for this little girl, thankyouverymuch.

Last night, I had an incredibly vivid dream.  I actually had three incredibly vivid dreams, all very telling, but I feel the need to write this one out in particular.  I was dreaming that I had woken up, here in Ben’s room, just as I would normally wake up had it been for real.  I was by myself.  I sat up and felt something in my mouth, and as my tongue fiddled around with it, it fell out and revealed itself to be a tiny piece of my fake tooth that had come undone.  Then all of a sudden there were more tiny pieces in my mouth.  I spat them out, and upon spitting, I felt a number of my teeth disconnect from my gums.  I ran over to the mirror, and as I opened my mouth, I watched the entire part of my front mandible simply come undone from my jaw, just as if they were dentures, and float around in my mouth.  Then the top half caved in, and I was spitting out entire chunks of my gums with the teeth still on them.  I frantically ran to my phone, halfway realizing that I was unable to speak, and I clicked on Ben’s number.

Then I woke up, and my heart was going crazy, it had felt so real.

This is actually not the first time I’ve had a dream about teeth, but by far the worst.  I’ve had maybe three other dreams where my one fake tooth (that I had to repair a few months ago in Italy) breaks again, but nothing like this, nothing so vivid and horrific.

Teeth dreams are apparently very common, along with flying, being chased, etc.  Teeth in psychological studies are often considered to be where we subconsciously derive our sense of power- teeth can tear, bite, chew, gnaw… animals show their teeth to assert their power, and so on.  I believe that my dream is a result of what I have been feeling recently, to a degree that I don’t think I’ve ever experienced before, which is my notable drop in self-confidence.  I have been unsuccessful in finding a real job here, and in all honesty, I am losing the motivation and optimism I held before.  I have almost depleted my entire savings and I am dependent on my boyfriend for almost everything.  So what I’m dealing with- low confidence and loss of independence- are two things I have never experienced before in such high, real, day-to-day degrees, and as a result, on top of all this, I am not feeling like myself.  I am detached from not only my familiar physical surroundings but from what I thought I knew the best, what I thought I could always rely on:  my own self.

And thus, the dream.  Powerless, panicked, literally disconnected.  I had those themes replay in all three of my dreams last night, so today has not been a very good day.

Here is what my life has been like for the past week, mas o menos, going backwards:

Sunday
Ben and I started the day by going to eat a proper English breakfast, commonly referred to as the “fry-up.”  I had never heard of this label before, but you really don’t need much imagination to figure out what it entails.  It is a glorious breakfast which consists of fried-everything.  I chose the plate with a fried egg, mushrooms, tomatoes, bacon, sausage, toast, and one exception- baked beans.  Ben had mostly all that in addition to hashbrowns and “black pudding,” which is potentially the most misleading name for a food ever.  Black pudding is little round black cakes of fried pigs’ blood.  They were alright.

I had forgotten how much I missed real breakfast, as Italy only does coffee, due to the standard 4-course lunches.  Then we bundled up and spent the large majority of the day scootering around London together.  We drove over the London Bridge, around Chinatown, Parliament, SoHo, Hyde Park, Piccadilly Circus, stopping a few times for a break.  We eventually ended up at The Apollo theatre to see if there were any cheap tickets from scalpers for the Sarah Silverman performance that night.  There weren’t, but we ended up loitering around the Guest Tickets section for a bit after spotting Keanu Reeves and having my photo taken with him (NEO!!!).  He’s hot.  Ben also spotted a variety of British comedy writers he loves and had me take photos of them together.  They were weird.

We walked outside for a breather after all our celeb run-ins and debated giving up on the show, where upon a nice man walked up to us and gave us a standing-room comp’d guest ticket he wasn’t going to use, for free.  We then decided the cost of 1 other ticket split between us was totally worth it, and ended up seeing Sarah Silverman perform live.  She’s hilarious.

Drove home and successfully cooked dinner by ourselves (a feat that is entirely worth mentioning) albeit it being grilled ham & cheese sandwiches and tomato soup.  Ate off a shelf and watched The Wire.  More laughing at ourselves.  We’re awesome.

Saturday
Saturday, I worked at a little cafe down the road (details to follow about this on the subsequent days below) for a whopping 5 GBP/hr (about $8.70).  This, my first day there, ended up being apparently one of the busiest Saturday afternoons they had ever had.  My back began to ache towards the last few hours, but all in all, it was pleasant-and-easy-enough work.  One nice gentleman struck up a conversation with me about Austin, and after sharing this with Toucan the owner (not kidding) she shared her opinion that he is a Russian spy.  I had one embarassing moment in which I was attempting to take someone’s order, but not only were they a low-talker and I could barely even make out the first part, “Veggie,” but for the life of me, I could not understand his accent and after 3 “sorry, could you repeat that?” pleas, the man next to him told me “Lasagna.”  Other than that, things went smoothly, Toucan and I made nice small-talk after the cafe calmed down, and I made about 6 quid in tips ($10.50) in my four hours of work- pretty good for a country that doesn’t require tipping, though Ben tipped quite a lot considering he only ordered a hot chocolate.  Boyfriend duty.

Saturday night we met up with some of Ben’s friends in Camden, the hipster/indie district of London, and it was half fun half not.  It was a bad decision on my part to wear completely unsupportive ballet flats for a night out after having spent 4+ hours on my feet earlier that day.  We ended up bailing after a failed attempt at some popular indie club/ex-palace or something, and picked up some KFC to go.  Again, we are awesome like that.

Friday, Thursday
My memory starts meshing days right about now.  Thursday is when I found the cafe job.  I was walking around the neighborhood, with the intention of getting take-away Chinese food for lunch, only to see a “Closed” sign on the door.  However, a few stores down, I saw a cute little cafe sign in chalk talking about homemade soup.  I looked in and saw a small, cozy little place with dark wooden furniture and cute decor.  About 20 minutes after that, I had a part-time job there.  The owners are a couple who run the place along with some part-timers for help.  One of these other employees had been wanting to cut-back on her working hours, and I happily offerred to fill in as I am quickly running out of money to live on.  I said I had no cafe experience, but I could guarantee I was a fast learner, and I’d spent plenty of time in numerous cafes studying during university.  I told them my story, and they told me to come in on Saturday.

I want to eat everything I see at this cafe.  Not only do they have delicious and expensive Italian coffee beans, but they have a fantastic little menu which includes the best-tasting fresh salads, homemade lasagna, quiche, soups (I had sweet potato- delish), jacket potatoes, grilled sandwiches and INCREDIBLE HOMEMADE CAKES.  And of course croissants and all that.  Saturday after work, the owner sent me home with 2 bags full of croissants, pain au chocolats, and quiche, since they wouldn’t be fit to serve on Monday.  It’s not the most glamorous, but it’s easy, it’s SOME income, and in a way, it’s kind of cute and bohemian, no?

Wednesday
First full day in London!  Met up with Ben and some friends at a pub after he got out of work to watch the Englad vs. Someone soccer/football match.  It was the first time I’d watched an entire football match and I ended up getting a little into it after awhile.  The pub was great.  The whole thing reminded me a lot of how we watch NCAA Football at over-crowded bars, with beer everywhere, shouting and cheering, etc. etc., except the backdrop here was much prettier.  Pubs > bars, so much more aesthetically pleasing.

Came home and stayed up with Ben to watch the final presidential debate at 2am London-time.  Brits are obsessed with American politics.  Can we blame them?

Tuesday, Monday, etc.
These were my last few days in Italy, and I hate to disappoint, but they were not at all bittersweet.  I was ready to get out!  Ben flew in to pick me up and help me carry my luggage around, and we had a great time drinking as much Salento wine and eating as much southern-Italy pizza as we could fit in our tummies.

Little Giulia handled it all surprisingly well, but then again, she’d had a number of au pairs previously and was probably well-prepped for this by her mother.  The day before I was scheduled to leave them, Giulia and I were hanging out on some steps at a field, where she was quietly drawing with her favorite markers.  I asked her, “Are you sad I’m going to be leaving?” and, in her thoughtful and honest little way, she replied after a short contemplative pause, “Not yet.”

My last Giulia story will be this: 
That same day, a little earlier, we were at the house working on her homework.  The assignment was to draw the members of her family, “from biggest to smallest.”  She drew herself, and then looked up and asked me, “Can I draw you too?”  This was not only touching, but I am tickled to know her teacher will receive this assignment and wonder who the hell “Ashlee” is.

Upon dropping me off, Stefania, G’s mother, stepped out of the car to say goodbye.  She told me she couldn’t say it in English, and then told me a bunch of things in Italian, but because she was rushing through it, I could only make out a few bits and pieces.  One part I understood was when she told me I was a very good person, that she thought I had been very good for Giulia, and that I would be great at whatever I did in life.  She cried.

Aldo, G’s dad, helped me carry my luggage from the car.  As we walked he told me I could always look them up if I ever wanted to come back to southern Italy, and I told him the same for the U.S. if they ever make it over, regardless of how many years it is from now.  When we said goodbye, he smiled, gave me a big hug, and said in his heavy Italian accent, “It is good to have a friend in the world.”

This, I think, hits the nail on the head.

I took a little trip over to Londontown for a week.  Around midnight, about 2.5 hours into my flight from Italy, a great song came on my iPod and woke me up.  I looked out the window, and at that very moment of our descent, we were flying directly over the London Bridge with all of central London lit up, and the lights just seemed to go on and on forever.  It hit me then that I will be calling that city my home in just 16 days, and I couldn’t be more excited about it.  In fact I’m so excited that when I wrote that right now, I had the intense urge to bin this post and continue looking for jobs online.  I’ve submitted four job applications this week though so I think the blog wins for now.

Ben and I spent the weekend in his hometown of Bletchley which is a gross-sounding name but really a pretty little town, for his father’s wedding.  Everyone kept asking me if it was at all different from American weddings, so much to where it led me to wonder if the Brits really do think we’re that weird.  I said the only difference was that their churches are prettier, which seemed to be well-received.  There was one lady, the wife of the best man, who had a ridiculous hot pink outfit on complete with matching lipstick and bird-like wedding hat, but I figured we probably have those characters too (just not with the fantastic accent to boot).  It really was a nice wedding though, and his family is fantastic.  Apparently the honkey-tonk band that played at the reception at one point said, “This one’s for the girl from Texas,” but both of us missed it.  Ben’s little brother however ran up to us quite excited about it.

The highlight of the whole thing was Ben’s little 5 year-old niece, who would not sit still during the ceremony.  Amongst repeatedly shouting, “chicken!  chicken!” and squealing, “Grandma can’t sing!” just as one of the hymns finished, she was great entertainment for me.  There’s also something about little kids with their little English accents that’s undeniably adorable.

Back in London, activities included FINALLY going to Shakespeare’s Globe Theater and getting tickets for Timon of Athens in the peasant standing area directly in front of the stage.  We keep it real like that.  We both thought the show was absolutely incredible and we can’t wait to go back, especially when its only 5 quid.  Lovely B also took me to Her Majesty’s Theatre for the Phantom of the Opera which has been playing there for 20 years.  His cousin is on the makeup team and we got a fantastic backstage tour.  I think B might have wet his pants when he saw the piano/organ.  No, just kidding.  But he really does love all that stuff, and American politics, and music etc. etc., and I’m just like woah how are you so awesome?

Speaking of that, he kept telling me he had a surprise for me leading up to my visit.  The surprise, as it turns out, was THE BEST THING EVER.  He booked two hours for me in a sound-proof rehearsal room with a drumset in it!!!  Perhaps I’d been bitching about not having played music a bit too much.  No, he just gets it.  He understands.  So on my way to the studio, I soon come to realize that I have no idea which of these unmarked warehouses it is, and Ben being at work and myself without any phone credit, I decided to ask this man who had just stepped out of a purple warehouse.  He had no idea where my place was, but he was super nice and walked around with me for a good 10-15 minutes until we finally found it.  During our hunt, I ask him what he does and he says he’s a music producer.  I’m like oh cool, anything I’d be familiar with?  He says yeah, he recently worked on the Foo Fighter’s latest album.  I say oh that’s great, I love them, etc. etc. but I don’t make much of it.

Anyway, we say goodbye, I rock out on the drums and feel incredible afterwards.  I recently googled him, and as it turns out, he was THE producer on the Foo’s latest album- as in THE producer who won a Grammy this past year for Record of the Year. #*()#$Q*!!$&*)#)$!!!!!!  Not to mention he’s also produced records for Jimmy Eat World, Ben Kweller, Dashboard Confessional, and so forth of albums which I own.  Can’t believe it.

So, yeah, all in all a pretty great London trip #2.  Next time I go there it’ll be for keeps.

Oh, and, I made a mistake.  Favorite part of the wedding ceremony was definitely Ben going up to do his reading, and instead of some Bible verse, reading a Shakespeare sonnet instead.  What a rebel.

Pics will be up on Picasa or whatever my photo blog is.  Link on the sidebar.  Ciao ciao.

I’d like to note that on the “competition” television shows I discussed in my earlier post, I believe that they all allot approximately 20% of their airtime to upping the suspense, the dilly-dallying and supposedly playing with the audiences emotions, before finally announcing the winner.  It consists purely of literally MINUTES of the host playing the “…am I going to announce it?  Yes I am here it is!!  Wait no just kidding I’m not yet!!  Got you that time didn’t I?!  Haha only I know who it is!  You don’t but I do, look I’m looking at the envelope right now!  OK I’ll do it for real now.  Here it comes…. and.. the.. winner….. IS…..  GOT YOU AGAIN!!” game, complete with 189038 shots of the contestants faces as they wonder what on earth possessed them to put themselves through this utter ridiculousness.

Hey, it’s not like Europeans don’t have plenty of American pop culture aspects to make fun of.  Just sayin.