13 days left in england. I'm getting excited.
I have two trips lined up for when I get back. the first begins less than 24 hours after I arrive in buffalo. the second begins less than 24 hours after the first ends. I have my list of food requests sorted - bacon, chivetta's chicken, homemade lasagna, salen's hot dogs, blueberry muffins from wegman's, chewy chips ahoy, various other things. I've thought through some of the places I have to visit. the old central terminal, to see how construction is coming and whether there are still holes in the fence. the zoo, to see the new rainforest exhibit. pizza hut, to see if the lunch buffet is as good as I remember.
I also have a list of foods I have to eat as much of as possible before I leave - banoffee pie, fishcakes, steak pie, fanta, hobnobs, curry. I've planned a couple last minute excursions - a day in liverpool (culture capital UK 2008), eyam for the traditional roasting of a lamb. still debating whether notting hill carnival is worth 19 quid and 8.5 hours in a coach.
I wonder if random will recognise me. I wonder if my parental units will look older. I wonder if they'll sound american. I wonder how many days it will be before I start wishing for sausages and mash and yorkshire accents.
I know my youth hostel card, my somerfield student discount card and my british blood donor card in my wallet will stay in my wallet for months, at least. when I find 20 pence pieces in my pockets, I'll put them back so I can find them again the next week. when all my luggage arrives, I'll strew the contents across my room and leave it like that for weeks, drawing out the state of between-country-ness for as long as possible.
then my mom will put her foot down and throw out all sorts of heinous threats, like "either clean up your room, or I'll grab a couple garbage bags and do it for you". so I'll put it all away. the 20 pence pieces will be replaced by nickels and quarters. eventually, I'll clean out my wallet and anything I'm not using will be filed away with my maps and postcards and birthday cards and the plastic flag I saved from canada day london. twelve months reduced to a couple photo albums and a shoebox under the bed.
then I'll rake some leaves, which they don't grow as bright red anywhere in the world as they do in western new york, stop by anderson's for a roast beef sandwich and refer to it as beef-on-weck take-away, and sit down with an open jar of peter pan peanut butter and a spoon and a cocker spaniel and figure out how many days till I can start packing.
such is the life of a nomad.