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Some eh-Splainin’

When an expat moves back to the native kingdom from their selected soil, gossip hell breaks loose in local forums and coffee shops. Everyone wants to know: “Why?” Since at least 90% of ex-expats never eh-splain why, the rest of us ponder aloud, hoping we are not next in the long line of “expat failures.” ¡Qué vergüenza! Indeed.

Well, I don’t feel like a failure. I feel like a huge winner: I got to move from what has always been considered the greatest country on the planet (in many ways, it still is) to the sweetest country on the planet . . . → Read More: Some eh-Splainin’


“Bloom where you are planted.” Remember that? I heard it back in the late 70s, during my tortured soul searching days. Good advice, even when you’ve planted yourself in a freezing cold city where it will eventually snow and nothing else is blooming. Especially then, eh?

Honestly, I’m such a frickin’ Pollyanna, if a nuclear device exploded in my back yard, I’d find something good about it.

So here’s the silver lining du jour: we love this house.

It fits us perfectly, it’s not so big it requires a truckload of furniture (and an Early Bucket Shop decor is pretty durn cheap). . . . → Read More: Blooming.

Moving Hell II

We are moving. Again. Didn’t we just do this? When we arrived a few weeks ago, we moved into a friend’s house in Winchester to be near my mom.  It’s a great big house, five bedrooms, gigantic, plenty of room. My friend lives a few miles down the road, but still has her office and her kitties here and we both figured it would work for the few months we’d be here.

But — you’d better sit down — not only is there 56 years worth of her stuff here, but all her mom’s stuff, her kids’ . . . → Read More: Moving Hell II