Nice Pants. Oops! Nope...I Mean Trousers!

This particular post is about diabetes, fashion and fun stuff!! But mostly fun stuff.
It's been a long time, my friends. Life got away on me for a bit. And now, how to even begin to catch up? So I will just say it.

We moved.

That's right, I am a temporary British citizen. A UK-er of sorts. A not-so-proper Englishwoman.

Mr. Man was offered a two year minimum position here in the English Midlands and we jumped at the chance. The short story of it all is that Don had a conversation with a manager at work about possible opportunity for movement within the company, meaning, in the same building. Next thing you know...Don texts me to ask if I wanted to move to England. I said sure. And here we are, a few months later.

My head is whirling with all that I could say. Should I talk about all the millions of details it takes to ship oneself to another country to reside? Or the silly notion I had that it would be no big deal and would all work itself out? Or the mental and emotional exhaustion that ensues whilst planning a move of this magnitude even whilst believing that silly notion? Within a two month period?

Or should I talk about the gorgeous countryside with sheep roaming the luscious green rolling hills and the winding roads with peaks and valleys and the ancient architecture found all around?

Or, how about our near death experiences driving opposites on 100 mile an hour motorways or two-way, one lane (1 car width, no shoulder, stone hedged) paved cart paths that we drive on quite regularly to get anywhere and everywhere? How sometimes, when meeting oncoming traffic, one of you must back up until opportunity presents itself to move over in order to squeak by?

Or maybe I could tell you how even though we all speak the same language (which you'd think was obvious, but one person actually asked me if they speak English here when finding out about our move), there are many nuances and fascinating lingo that either a) make it tricky to understand or b) get me into trouble.  Compliment someone on their trousers, but not their pants (underwear). And don't even bother with the word fanny unless you are speaking with your gynecologist.

How about how fashion differs from North America? How people dress less casually here and always look good. (Unless it is Saturday in the supermarket and they are planning to go out in the evening. Then, then, the hair rollers come out to play.) Now that would be an interesting topic.

I could tell you about so many fascinating experiences we've had in only two short months, and I will. But for today I will just say this:

The people here are fantastic. From my awesome neighbours who lent us their wifi password or 50 inch TV or even their car, to the doctors at the "surgery" (Doctor's office) who have already proven themselves worthy to look after my best interests when it comes to my health and diabetes (which has been a bit of a roller coaster over this transition time, but is settling down now), to our new circle of friends who have showered us with hospitality and genuine love (always hugging goodbye - take THAT you stupid "British are stuffy or standoffish" stereotype!). I don't think I have ever encountered such a giving and helpful group of people as I have here in England.

I promise to tell you more about culture, food, people, style, spiders and Richard - the workman with no shirt, in the future.

 But now I have to go finish packing. For I am headed back home.
Yes. Already. Going to see my family, friends and P!nk in concert!
I will miss you England, but for even just a few short weeks.

Canada...here I come!