Archive for November 2011

Compensating, are you? (And what's the problem with Bama?)

The UK and the USA have a huge difference, and no it’s not just health care–but the automobile. The Brits pay big money for gas and concurrently have smaller, more efficient vehicles. The USA still seem to think that macho vehicles reflect the owners egos–bigger than their driving skills by the sample of poorly parked... Read more »

The Cocktail Napkin

It was a cocktail napkin. Just a cocktail napkin, in those heady days before spell check. When spelling was done the old fashioned way. By eye. And memory. And yes, my handy dictionary of the time. The napkin at some long forgotten cocktail party said, Bon Bini Ya’ll. Yep. Ya’ll. Not Y’all, but Ya’ll. You... Read more »

Adolescent Americans

Like teenagers who believe, “it’s all about me”, American react to globalization as if it is a plot just to get them. After all the left wingers cry, the foreigners are stealing our jobs; meanwhile, the right wingers bemoan the foreigners as invaders who are taking over Alabama. Truly? Some people need to get out... Read more »

An English Autumn (a.k.a. Fall)

They call it autumn, we call it fall. They call it aubergine, we call it eggplant. They call it nappies, we call it diapers. And yes, they do drive on the wrong side of the road. As do we, according to them. Nevertheless England is basically the same, that is until it comes–no, I’m not... Read more »
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    Candace Drimmer

    I was an accidental expatriate; love and marriage led me to it. One day I was a bandy-legged kid sitting atop my dogwood tree looking out of my small backyard world in 1950s New Jersey, wanting to move somewhere--anywhere, different. Next thing I knew my father had accepted a job in Houston TX. I was ecstatic, it was a foreign land in 1961 America. After high school graduation, my parents’ gave me a matched set of fawn-colored hardsided American Tourister luggage. Taking the hint, I went to college; well four colleges in five years--it was the 60s after all. Meeting a young hirsute anti-war, soon-to-be-Peace Corps volunteer, I fell in love. After finishing up college coursework for my degree, but before I even walking a graduation stage, I grabbed the paper airline ticket my boyfriend had sent me, my brand-new passport, and was off to the airport and Lima, Peru.

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