and it all came crashing down.....

It has been almost 2 months since my last blog. I blame the weather, the gray dreary, rainy days. If it were not for my job making it a necessity to emerge from my bed every morning I would hibernate until June. Since relocating to England and experiencing my first winter I am of the belief that the bears are onto something.

Perhaps I am just getting older, perhaps it is the sniffling, miserable cold I have been carrying around for 3 weeks. It may be the stares of blame that the dog casts my way as he too is stir crazy from being trapped inside. There is a very good chance it is the annoying way my beloved springs out of bed each morning immune to the cold, damp, drizzle. If it's one thing that irks me it is a happy person while I am trying my best to be miserable.

For whatever the reason it came to a head this morning at 6 am when it all came crashing down. I was scurrying around getting ready to leave for work when I heard the cacophony of noise. The "guard dog" shot off like a rocket towards the safety of the bedroom and my husband. I shook my head at him in disgust and went to investigate. It appeared that our crown moulding in the Hurley House living room had decided to leave it's proper place on the ceiling and collapsed to the floor knocking out a light and leaving debris all over the floor. Strangely, at the time I found this latest development vaguely amusing as we were STILL waiting for the landlord to repair the crown moulding in the kitchen which had collapsed on our cupboards.

"What was that?" I heard my husband yell from upstairs. Just the ceiling crashing down, I replied. I can't clean it up right now I have to leave for a case! "What?" Never mind, I thought I will take a picture and send it to our ambivalent landlord. I left the house knowing it would still be in shambles upon my return. This latest event for whatever the reason has snapped me out of my recent doldrums at least long enough to blog.

The news of late to our family and friends is that we have spent most of our spare time on booking trips to better lands. Hurrah!!!! We also have spent hours discussing ideal itineraries for our parents who will be visiting this summer. Mr Jeopardy and I bravely (and some may say foolishly) are planning on hosting all 3 sets of in laws for two week stays this summer. Now that we are out of the hobbit house and into the Hurley house we have slightly more room for visitors. Granted, the Hurley house may be falling down around us but you can only handle one crises at a time.

Jeff's Dad Bill and step mom Renee will be the first over in May. They visited last year and we visited Ireland and Amsterdam together. We know the pros and cons now and feel as prepared as we can be for their arrival. Avoidance's- further air travel at all cost (Renee and the TSA do not see eye to eye), long walks (Bill will not admit when he is tired and will run the risk of a stroke before telling us to slow down). Must haves- meals (have plenty of peanut butter on hand and jars of mayonnaise for Bill's emergency snacks), wine (a dire necessity during travels with Renee as she does not tolerate stupid people, lines, TSA and waiting), naps (these usually occur between 2-4). I must admit I do like peanut butter, wine and naps as well so these items are easily fit in. My biggest challenge will be to ignore the dining room table which Bill will commandeer for the duration of their stay with computer laptops, cameras, and all travel gadgets known to man as well as peanut butter crackers, peanut butter sandwiches, coffee cups and general litter. I will somehow need to control my OCD and look the other way.

August will bring Jeff's mom and step dad Wayne. They have not yet visited and we are excited to host them. This too will be their first time outside the states and we have plans to visit Rome and Paris. I have few worries (well maybe a few). Jeff's mom has a terrible fear of dogs. She has tolerated Shadow in the past because he does not jump. I have not had the heart to tell her that since moving to the UK Shadow spends most of his time on the couch waiting for the sun to come out. In addition, when in the states we could throw him outside and have some peace for a few hours. Here, he has become a true indoor dog and will fling his body against the doors and bark endlessly until you let him in. For only being 40 pounds he can surprisingly cause quite a bit of noise when left to his own devices.

And last but certainly not least my very own parents. To say that my parents did not handle the news of our international move very well would be the understatement of the century. My father reportedly could not sleep for weeks convinced he would die while we were in England. My mother stood firmly by my dad when they reported that they would NOT be coming to the UK to visit and that I would have to come to see them. "Your father says he has no urge to ever leave the states and you know how he is" stated my mom. I asked my father, who is a big history buff if he did not want to visit historic Italy, France or Spain? My father's retort was that he saw Spain while in the Navy 45 years ago and did not need to go back. I guess a few nights in port filled with cheap booze was enough for him. He now considered the experience enough to qualify him to be an expert on foreign travel. I have no doubts that Rick Steves has nothing to worry about. I had to break the news that we would see them at Christmas but had moved to the UK to see the rest of the world and that did not include spending our vacation with them in Nevada. It took a little over 8 months for them to reconsider. I am still debating in my own mind if this is good or bad news. I have been lobbying endlessly and have finally gotten them to agree. Now the phrase that comes to mind is "be careful what you wish for as you might just get it". They will arrive in June unless there is another underwear bomber report and my father has told me I can "count him out" if that happens.

Anyone who knows my parents knows that they are polar opposites. My mother is the kindest, most sweetest woman to walk the earth. She was always worried about what the neighbors thought. My father is......well let's just say he gives Walter Matthau in "Grumpy Old Men" a run for his money. Not only did my father not care what the neighbors thought he wanted them to know that he didn't care what they thought. How they ended up together is any ones guess. The thing that surprises my brother, sister and I is that mom still sides with him no matter how irrational he can be. Her response was always..."well you know your father". This is the same man that picketed Stiver Chevrolet when I was a teenager in our small Ohio town because they promised him a $200.00 am/fm radio when he bought his Dakota truck. When they reneged at the time of pick-up he and my mother picketed the dealership until they caved in. Try explaining to your friends at 15 what your parents are doing with posters out on main street. Or the time of my first real date when I was 16 and my father asked my date for his drivers license to hold until he brought me home. My father explained that it was in the event they had to pick him out of a police line-up. When my date asked what he would do if he was pulled over my dad told him that would be the least of his worries when all was said and done. This probably explains why most summer nights I snuck out on my own in a full state of rebellion. Or the time my friends toilet papered our house and my dad chased after their vehicle with his shotgun. Thank God he never caught them. I have thousands of stories and could go on forever but you can guess why I view this two week visit with some trepidation. The truth is that my father and I have butted heads my entire life. My mother and husband swear that I have more of his traits than I want to admit. Argh! How the truth can hurt. How many of us idolize the father we spend most of our lives fighting? I would guess I am not alone.

I had spent a great deal of time considering the itinerary wanting to make it perfect. My dad is a big history buff and has traveled to many a war memorial including Custer's Last Stand and the Battle of Little Bighorn which was his favorite. Now that he is retired he spends his days reading Spaghetti Westerns and expouting his knowledge of the world on all three of his children. He is a man of very little patience and I felt it best that with his history we would do well to keep him as far away as possible from multiple interactions with the TSA, flight changes, terminal changes, coach seating, other passengers etc. My beloved suggested that we could take the ferry across the pond avoiding the airlines and tour Normandy with a guide to see the sites of the D-Day invasion and then move on to Mont Saint Michel and history rich Northern France. I loved the idea and floated it past my parents over Christmas. "Oh that sounds nice Margie" from my mom. "Sure, whatever from my father." I booked the guide, hotels, ferry and itinerary after countless hours online doing research.

In my excitement, I phoned my mom and dad to tell them the news! "Oh, that sounds nice said my mom." My father was quiet. Two days later I receive an e-mail from my sister, Rita. She is my closest confidant for commiserating about our father. Her e-mail read simply- "Dad has called numerous times and wants you to call him. Will not say why even though I asked. You know how he is. Good Luck." For those of you who are wondering- no my parents do not have e-mail. No, they refuse to call England. They prefer to call my sister to have her e-mail me for when they wish to communicate.

Sigh.........I picked up the phone with dread. My mother answered saying my father needed to talk to me about the trip. What? What does he need to talk to me about mom? "He doesn't want to go to France, Margie". WHAT??? I am not changing it mom, I specifically asked you about France over Christmas. "Well you know your father Margie." I could feel my blood pressure rising quickly. The phone was passed to my father. "Margie, what were the two countries I told you I did not want to visit?" What? What are you talking about Dad? We went over this at Christmas. My husband walked into the room looking worriedly at me and my obvious voice escalation. "I do not want to go to France or England. I told you that." Well Dad, that is a problem being that we LIVE in England (I was shouting now) and planned the trip to France so you could tour the battlefield and avoid the airlines! I spent allot of time planning this trip. What is the problem? "I have no desire to see France or England". "I am only coming over there once and your mother and I have decided we want to see Spain or Italy." Spain or Italy I slowly repeated feeling like I should have known better. "Yeah, we want to see the real Spain or Italy, tour the villages, mingle with the locals and enjoy the wine he went on." Dad, I said through clenched teeth, I cannot talk to you about this now and hung up on him.

My husband gave me a big hug as I looked around for something to break. What did he say honey? Oh just that he hates France and England and does not want to go there (even though we live in England) and that he wants to visit Spain or Italy, see the villages, drink the wine and mingle with the people. I was near hysterical at this point. My husband looked at me for several long moments. Well honey, you know your father. Please kill me now I implored my husband.

I called my sister the next day. "I knew something was up as he refused to tell me why he needed to talk to you." "This doesn't surprise me at all. You know how he is. I cannot believe you are having him over for two whole weeks!!! I would use this as my opportunity to get out of it" My sister had a good point. It was not out of the ordinary for her to avoid speaking to him for months at a time. Of course I suffered from the proverbial first born syndrome and felt the absurd need to remain on good terms. It took me a good week to calm down.

I phoned my parents a week later. I had booked us a trip to Andalucia to see southern Spain including Cordoba, Seville and Granada. I was sending some books via Amazon to get them psyched up for the trip. I sat on pins and needles awaiting his response. "That sounds good, how hard was that?" said my father in all innocence. Yes, I knew my father. Yes, I know I have too many of his traits. Yes, I know I will never be able to please him. I will most likely look for ways to throw myself over the nearest bridge during his visit. Can someone just tell me why I am so looking forward to it?