I'm just trying to force myself to stay awake

You know what I realized when I was on the way to the airport? That I had my laptop, iPod, iPhone and their respective chargers. I even had my new Nike CoolPix camera! But where was the Nike battery?

At home in the charger.

This is just. so. typical.

I'm the only one bringing an actual camera on this trip. And now it won't work. Which means I'm reduced to taking pictures with my iPhone.

The bright side of this is I now have a shopping goal. Which means we won't have nearly as much browsing and out-of-control covetousness that can absolutely consume me when I travel.

The last time I was in England I dragged my husband through innumerable used book stores and thrift shops. I thought seriously about buying a pair of hilariously preppy (or I should say, Sloane Ranger-y) Wellington boots with a print of little whales all over them. I bought a pair of fake Gucci loafers at Marks and Sparks and Tom Holt "Mapp and Lucia" books at Waterstones and I ... well, I went a little nuts at Boots. I think I brought home a year's supply of Pear's soap because it was 50 p. a cake, less than half of what it costs in the States.

And I was already obsessed with the Hetty vacuum cleaner. So now that I can just walk into a store and get one?



It's lucky that I really need a battery for my camera.

I'll take three vowels, please, Pat.

Guess what I'm doing? Here's a hint; we came back from California with four suitcases filled with d*rty cl*th*s.

So I'm hauling, sorting, pre-treating, stuffing, removing, flinging, folding, stacking and putting away piles and piles and piles of clothes.

So I'm boring today. For proof, see above, where I desperately employ a thesaurus-load of verbs to tell you that I'm doing laundry.

When I'm not spilling food on myself in exotic and glamorous spots like San Francisco, I appear to do very little except garden and work out. Which leaves me with very little to report. I mean, here you go: "Flowers are pretty!"


Climbing rose "Social Climber" which I bought for the name ... but is just wonderful.

And ... I'm spent. Should I continue? And talk about working out? I mean, I've already told you about my ass. Do you really want to hear that the top of my right arm is so painful that I can't straighten it all the way? But that I'm going to the gym again today, anyway, where I will be swimming? And that swimming is 90 percent arms? And that I'm kind of not looking forward to using my arms to propel me the length of the pool? For an HOUR?

But this is a new trainer so maybe I'll get lucky and have one of those initial getting-to-know-you sessions.

And I'll swallow some more Tylenol while I wait for the pretty flower picture to upload. And the laundry to finish spinning.