Berenstein Bears and Too Much Jane Austen

Last night my mother arrived back home from a trip to Utah, helping my younger-- and now college freshman-- sister Lindsay get settled. 

It was about 6:30 p.m.; My dad had gone to pick her up from the airport and I was expecting them both back any minute. I was cleaning up from dinner, scrubbing a pan, while my youngest sister Megan was playing piano. I wanted them to walk in the door  that second and be impressed that we were being so productive (Really, that we were doing ANYTHING besides eating Goldfish in the living room, watching Phineas and Ferb.)

But instead, the house was unusually quiet, and Megan and I were looking very much like two members of a normal family. I was feeling pretty smug. Indeed, thought I, "we are a very portrait of domestic felicity." 

Um, excuse me?!? A portrait of domestic felicity???  But no lie, those were the words that ran through my mind, verbatim. 

It was at that point that I knew I had done way too much summer reading that day. 

Oh, Emma. 400 pages down, only 25 to go. Conquering this book now requires me not only to finish it, but to keep my head screwed on and retain my current vernacular after I am through. Thanks a lot, Jane. See what you've done? Reading four of your novels this summer has given me a deep and abiding appreciation for just watching the movie adaptations instead. 

  A scene from the 2009 BBC remake of Emma. Starring Romola Garai and... Frank Churchill at Box Hill. If you haven't seen this one, I recommend it.

The Countdown Begins

Less than one week until I hop on a plane to London. 

Excited? Undoubtedly. 

But while the sheer adrenaline of excitement can atone for a lot of things, it does not lessen the reality that you must navigate your way in a busy foreign city in foreign currency, amongst people with attractive but somewhat unintelligible foreign accents. It does not lessen the fact that you only get one suitcase to contain all your belongings for the next four months. (Said suitcase still needing to be packed full of clothes still needing to be washed.) Or the fact that relocating home for two weeks-- in sweltering humidity-- has thrown off all your promising habits of healthy behavior/half-marathon training. Or the fact that you just found out your mum and dad did not die in a car crash, but were killed by an evil nose-less wizard instead.

 I feel you, Young Harry. 

And now to end things on a positive note, I will list things I am thankful for. 

1.) No Dark Mark has ever made an appearance over my roof. 

2.) Even though I fall pretty low on the fashion totem pole, at least my glasses are rectangular and my sweaters are not monogrammed. 

3.) I am not currently being eaten by a bear. *

*EXTRA CREDIT!!: I will personally place 5 gold stickers on your forehead or tattoo them on your lower back if you can tell me where this is from.

Jude Law and a Semester Abroad

Yes, this phrase is a song from a painful* band called Brand New. But those same six words are also how I would describe my life... if asked to do so in six words or less.

In exactly two weeks, I will be living in London on a study abroad through my beloved BYU. And yes, Brand New, I WILL meet lots of English boys!

While packing to come home from Utah, I had to simultaneously start packing for London. To make the process more enjoyable, I watched this:

I'm not one who is normally big on chick flicks, but this has quickly become one of my favorite movies. For two big reasons:

1.) It's about people who realize there is nothing for them at home (or in Provo...) and so they pack up and GO! and get a new start. And while they all end up falling in love with each other, they fall in love with life. 
Despite the fact that I am currently wrapping up the best summer of my life, I feel I am due for such a love. 


2.) After vigorously creeping the blogs of past London-Center-Goer/Stayers, I stumbled upon a small but powerful rumor that Jude. Law. Is. Our. Neighbor.

 We live here, in 27 Palace Court. Apparently it's a fairly ritzy place. 

(Although it does bear a striking resemblance to a not-quite-as-ritzy place...)

Number 12, Grimmauld Place

 I fully plan to establish the Order of the Phoenix within the first week of moving in. 

Until then... 

I will prepare myself in the neighborly art of recognizing incognito celebrities.

Hey Jude. Let the stalking begin.  

* Ahem. No offense, all you Brand New lovers.... No, but really. They are terrible.