Tuesday

Bad drivers are one of my greatest pet peeves in this life. Take, for instance, the goober in front of me on Biltmore Avenue today. We both got into the left-hand turn lane. The light turns green... in heavy traffic we both inch our way up to the intersection during those precious few moments when we have the green turn arrow lit in our direction. Goober gets to be first in line and decides he doesn't want to turn left after all. He wastes the entire green light by waiting for an opening to get back over into the right lane. Really? 

I am in the process of going through some photographs from a trip my family took to England five years ago. I was 20 and had just returned home from a month spent in poverty-ridden Nicaragua; I remember London being a bit of a shock. But I loved it. My Nana was from London and I remember her always talking with a wistful fondness about the parks there and how there was nothing like them in the States. We took this trip after she died, partly in memoriam. She must smile at me from heaven whenever she hears me say that England's parks stole my heart as well. London was a perfect mix of natural (albeit cultivated) beauty, urban metropolis, and anchored history. My kind of city indeed.

Joshua and Michelle have always shown an inordinate pride in their cultural heritage (Italian and Latin). I have always teased them about it, telling them that I am just as Italian and Hispanic as they are. (I am, although they inherited more genes from the "swarthy good looks" pool than I did.) But I think I am beginning to understand where they are coming from. I'm starting to feel a growing pride for my own British roots-- it feels good to share some of the characteristics of such a strong and stalwart people.