Welcome home, Autobot

A couple of weeks ago, I had to make a tour of Europe for work. It's been a while since I changed jobs, and my family (and myself) have pretty much gotten used to me not traveling anymore.  It was downright awkward to be in the airport again after so long. 

It's been nice. 

However, these things come up, and the Boy, who was a bit worried about me being alone for so long, gave me one of his Transformer toys to play with. (Not his Optimus Prime, mind you.  Just a nameless figure that he sort of likes. Still. It was sweet, no?) 

I sent home pictures along the way. 

First: the autobot hit Germany.

A redeye flight to Paris: Autobot needs coffee.

Autobot wants to know how to get to Versailles.

 

 

No, autobot. We're not going to Disneyland. We're getting on a plane and saying goodbye to France. 

 

 

 

Dinner in the UK.

 Smoked bacon & haggis fritters. Topped with poached egg and a side of Old Speckled Hen ale.

 This is one of the top five things I have ever put in my mouth.

 

Autobot approves. 

More from the UK: 

Autobot loves Mr. Porky. Hugs and kisses.

Chester. Autobot admires your architecture.

Autobot likes weird British chocolate. 

"Hey... wait a second - you're not the same Autobot!"

"Yes I am."

"No you're not! You look completely different."

"No I don't."

"What the hell. The other one had big tall wing things. You have crazy-weird devil horns. And you're half again as big!"

"OK. Fine. You got me."

"..."

"..."

"Well this is awkward."

"You lost the other one at the hotel & bought me as a replacement, didn't you?"

"Shutup and look at the flowers, Autobot."

 

Hey, fake-Autobot. Nice pillow.

It's not that I'm not glad you're home. And I do really like my new Autobot. But seriously, you left the other one? And people trust you with making decisions?

Oh yeah? Well... thanks to our friend Mr. Internet - look whose doppleganger made a reappearance!

I wonder what the hell did parents do before they invented Amazon?

19:52 - Shoes

This week, I've been visiting Europe for work. But I arranged my schedule to allow me to spend the weekend with lovely friends in the north of England, and had the chance to catch up over dinner and see what are truly a bunch of dear people, and get horribly nostalgic for our time here. 

The evening before I headed back out to finish my meetings and go find a plane back home, we were standing around getting their kids ready for bedtime, talking about the upcoming olympics and the Queen's jubilee parties. And my friend Jon drops into conversation "... when I met the Queen, she called me by my name." 

For anyone doing research, if we become friends, I expect to know about any brush with royalty within the first 12 months of our aquaintence. NOT several years later. Because what if I had needed an introduction? Or some Windsor crested stationary? You think she just gives that stuff away to total strangers? I'm not saying you should go around name-dropping. But find a polite way to bring it up in conversation over a pint, yeah? 

To make it up to me, Jon let me take a picture of his shoes for this week's LPTG.com 52 week photo challenge. Theme: Shoes. 

The man wears a powdered barrister's wig and defends people accused of violent crimes and murders all week. 

These are his "cutting loose" party shoes. 

I say he wears them under his robes some day and see how long it takes for someone to notice. 

For the record, this is NOT normal.

My Bride: Did I ever tell you that I don't like to touch milk? 

Me: You mean "share." 

My Bride: What?

Me: You don't like to share milk. Even with your children. Which is weird, and kind of selfish. But we accept you anyay.

My Bride: No. I mean, yes: sharing milk is gross. But I don't like to touch milk. 

Me: Why would you need to touch milk? When does this come up? 

My Bride: Also, I don't like ketchup except when it's on things. 

Me: What are we talking about? When would you have ketchup by itself? 

My Bride: It feels icky. And then my hands smell like ketchup. Or milk. 

Me: I'm lost. 

My Bride: Try to keep up. This is the same reason I only eat watermelon with a fork, after it's been cut up. 

Me: We've been married for almost 18 years. And you are still a mystery. 

My Bride: I'm totally normal. 

17:52 - Passing time on (yet another) flight

I can't complain. I don't travel nearly as much as I used to. I find, however, that this makes getting on another plane even more awkward and annoying, though I've lost none of my ninja-level skills for getting through security screening quickly, I'm glad to say. 

This week's LPTG.com photo challenge is 'coffee'. Of which I don't drink a lot. (and besides, I sort of already did that.).  However, my flight down to Florida this week for a conference ran long. And a cup of coffee along with a good book passed the time. 

Focusing on the important things in life

You know, like painting a lemonade stand with the kids.