scones. lots of scones.
I was in the UK for a total of 6 days. And I had afternoon tea every single one of those days.
The truth is that after scone number 3 I was sort of ready to move on to other things. But I knew my days in London were minimal. And with Ramadan looming right around the corner (emphasis on looming!) I decided to adopt a no-regrets policy while on holiday.
Which was great, because now I have no regrets. Except that my skin is currently paying the price of my indulgence.
And I also cannot look at or think about jam right now without cringing just a little bit.
The funny thing is that I sort of knew Ali was at his limit with the whole tea scene as well. But come 5:30 pm it was just understood that it was time to do a bit of research on Yelp to find a fabulous place for the whole overpriced set up.
So really, the remarkable thing about this whole situation isn’t how many scones I ate in 6 days. It also isn’t the fact that I managed to eat three meals a day on top of the afternoon tea.
What’s really remarkable is the fact that my husband and I? We were On The Same Page for a change.
Remarkable indeed.
waffles
Me, two months ago: “Where do you want to go after your cousin’s wedding in London?”
Ali, while typing an email: “Not sure, you decide.”
I think I walked about 50 miles in Brussels. No joke.
Obviously, this was The Right Answer. Which I knew I would get if I consulted my husband while he was furiously typing on his computer.
And with that, my research commenced.
After studying exchange rates and putting together several complicated models where I calculated potential hours spent in a train/on a plane as a percentage of my entire vacation (in order to minimize wasted travel time), I finally booked us a trip to Dublin.
The Conrad in Brussels…one of the nicest hotels I’ve ever stayed in.
But then, a few days before our trip, I realized I’d neglected to research one key thing: the weather. So I waited until Ali was furiously typing again to “discuss.”
Me: “Weather.com says it’s going to be freezing cold and raining when we’re in Dublin. What do you think about visiting Belgium instead?”
Ali, while typing an email: “Not sure, you decide.”
Okay so I wasn’t crazy about the Belgium waffles…too sugary and too crispy. Here is one thing I wish I’d researched a bit more.
So I threw my lengthy research on Dublin out the window, squashed the voice in my head that insisted “You’ve invested too much time in Dublin NOT to go,” and with a wing and a prayer we headed to Belgium instead.
And after having a fantastic time in Brussels and Ghent, I am now pondering the idea that if I get over my need to plan and organize everything and shift over to Ali’s chaotic, dark side for a minute, things might actually – sometimes – work out better for me.
Italian food in Brussels. Some of the best I’ve ever had.
Something to think about.
driving
Ali driving his own car, on a normal day, in the United States, will elicit fear, sarcastic comments, and many obnoxious responses from me.
I got off the plane in London and headed straight to my favorite place for scones: Fortnum & Mason.
Ali driving in London:
- On the wrong side of the road…
- In a steady drizzle…
- In a rental where the steering wheel is on the opposite side…
- With the GPS blaring “Please exit the next roundabout” every 5 seconds…
- While Maya whines from the backseat that she suddenly needs to go potty…
Is really just my husband begging me to find a divorce lawyer so he can put an end to his misery once and for all.
Me + Maya on our way to the wedding. One thing I don’t like about London? A good blow dry isn’t easy to come by, thus why my hair looks like straw.
And yet, with all the odds against us, we somehow made it through the chaos. I chalk this up to my keeping my big mouth shut. Which I in turn chalk up to the fact that I am on vacation and thus have slightly more patience than normal.
Plus, this isn’t really a convenient time for a divorce.
Despite his hands being at 10 and 2, our drive was no less terrifying.
Anyway, I was silently celebrating my husband putting the car into park when he said, “I really wish this rental car had a backup camera.”
Yes. Let’s forget about needing a driver who has a clue where he’s going and a 7-year-old who goes to the restroom when before she leaves the house. Because obviously being able to see the pavement the 2 times we reversed should absolutely be one’s priority.
While I'm not going to win Mother/Wife of the Year Award anytime soon, I haven't killed anyone yet or shot myself in the head. And that, my friends, is how I calculate success these days. 
FANCY THAT FANCY THIS 