Competition

I don't think any of you thought the two blog idea was a good one. That gave me pause for thought (is that the right expression? should it be "cause for thought"?). And I've decided I agree. So what I'm going to do is this. I'm going to stick with one blog, but hide the more personal posts, by an intricate technological procedure which I'll happily tell you more about if you're interested.

I'm definitely going to revamp this blog, and I might - gasp - change the title. One of the reasons this blog is losing its way a little is because now I've lived in the US for 3.5 years, it's hard to maintain the "not wrong, just different" schtick. If it's a schtick. I'm not really ever sure what a schtick is, and I certainly don't know if that's how you spell it. Where was I? Yes... the "not wrong, just different" thing depends on a certain wide-eyed "gosh, look, isn't my fridge BIG?" approach to living in America, and now I just don't have that any more. In fact, during my visit to Britain, I have to confess to crossing a few lines. More about those in another blog post, but suffice to say, you'll be hearing the Americans-in-Britain bloggers cheering "I told you so" in the background. I am guilty of the occasional trespass over to the other side. It's what they call, in diplomatic circles, "going native". So, for example, when I now look at my fridge, I don't think "oh it's huge", I think "how do those British people manage with their tiny fridges? what a pain to have to unpack and pack the whole thing every time you want half a carrot". Going native with a fridge, see?

More than that, though. Thing is, I don't actually think that at all about my fridge. I just open the door and get out the carrot while listening to Diane Rehm on NPR, batting away a troublesome child with my left hand, my right shoulder glued to my right ear with the phone in between, fobbing off a telesales person, wondering what to have for dinner and whether I like Endellion as a middle name. So perhaps "not wrong, just different" should become "just normal life now". Good stuff, but kind of a bit sad too. I liked my "not wrong, just different" cutting edge take on cultural divergence. I don't want to have to admit it's a bit blunted now. I don't think I do like Endellion, by the way. Sounds like Dandelion.

What do you think of "Midwest Midlife" as a new title? I kind of like it. Catchy, easy to remember, easy to abbreviate (MM). Might be confused as an aged fan club for Westlife though. Or possibly some kind of midwife service. And I'm not sure I really want to be known for being mid-life. It's not my USP.

How about "From Gruffalo to Buffalo"? They don't know the Gruffalo over here, so he's a singularly British icon, and the buffalo (or bison, as we're meant to call him these days) is a symbol of the Great Plains where I am. I could do a great header, with the Gruffalo holding the Union Jack on one side and a buffalo holding the Stars and Stripes on the other. Bit obscure, perhaps. Ooh, how about some title that encompasses my location (Plains) with my role (housewife) by cleverly rhyming Bison with Dyson? "Among the Bison with my Dyson". Something like that.

Anyway, you can see that my mind is working overtime on the subject. I will ponder further. "Further Ponderings Over the Pond", perhaps.

You thought I was going to run a competition to choose a new blog name, didn't you? Ha. Wrong! I'm running a competition to see if you can guess my new job! Yes. Job. Very exciting. Never let it be said I let the grass grow under my feet. Not even prairie tallgrass. Green card arrives one week; I get job the next week. Details are yet to be finalised, so I hope my next post isn't full of "it didn't work out". Meanwhile, here's a clue. If you ask your children what would be the coolest, coolest job in the world for a mom to have, that is my job. (Unless your child is a 3 year old boy, because I'm telling you now, it's not tractor-driver, train-driver, fat controller, or fire-fighter.)

Go on. Guess. (And let me know about the "cause for thought" thing too, please. I often trip up on that one.)

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