Sunday, September 08, 2013

And Another Thing...

I had no idea that teenaged behavior could start in one so young. I wish I was referring to my 15 year old, but I'm not. Someone told me that maybe she was getting it all over with now and she'd be a lovely teenager. I view this comment with a cynical eye.

 If I drank, I'd be glugging down some Wild Turkey about now. So I'm guessing it's a good thing I don't.

Don't look too closely, but grey is a-comin. And it's stayin'. I gotta find a colorist.

Saturday, September 07, 2013

Military Time

Military time is more frequently used here than in the US, and sometimes it's confusing. 5 pm is 17:00, 2 am is 2:00, 2 pm is 14:00. Get my drift? I think I have a grip on it though. It's all about subtracting 12. I've gotten very good at it. That and subtracting 7 so I know what time it is for family in the States. I rarely use my fingers anymore.

So Kathryn was invited to a birthday bowling party (and why it was held in a bowling alley 30 minutes away, who can say?) and asked to be there 12-15. That's how it was written. So my original thought was that she's supposed to be there by 12:15. Then I realize there's no end time listed. Then I begin to wonder if the party started at noon and ended at 3 pm. 12-15. 12:00- 15:00. Get it? I called another mother to share rides back and forth and asked what she thought. She was under the same impression I was so I started feeling pretty good about myself, all smart and everything, figuring out the code. Any indication that I have retained even a shred of intelligence through this whole thing is a victory, believe you me.

The other mother picked up Kathryn for the party. I received a text from her saying it took 40 minutes to get there and they barely made it to the 12:15 pm start of the party. And the party was ending at 2:30 pm. (or "Half 2" as is said here). 12 freaking 15! Who uses a dash for time??

And so I was wrong. Again. And I'm not a code breaker after all. And maybe I let that shred of intelligence slip through my fingers because of a blasted dash. And maybe I had to hold my tongue when I picked up the two girls at 2:30 pm, which was not indicated on the dang invitation. Any maybe my husband actually drove so I can't complain with the same vehemence that I could if I'd been the one following the GPS through random narrow streets with tiny roundabouts and random speed bumps and random cars parked higgeldy-piggeldy on those same narrow streets getting to a place I'd never been! But I feel like it.

When I moved to England, I knew there would be some adjustments. I just didn't realize that not only would I have to learn to drive in a different way (and actually take driving lessons, for cripe's sake!) and learn to speak with a different vocabulary (because now I'm all "put it in the rubbish bin!" instead of "put it in the trash!"), but that I'd also need to learn to tell time all over again. Really? I mean, seriously?