I'm Home! Now What...

My country tis of thee,
Land where the water's free,
Of thee I sing.
Land where the dollar's used
Brits' slang won't me confuse
Back to plain old BYU
Let freedom ring.

I know you've heard the rumors, and they are true.
I am home.
[insert elated cheering here]
Christmas and New Years have been great, I've had some big activities like eating, watching my favorite TV shows, (DogTown, Extreme Makeover: Home Edition, America's Next Top Model etc.) eating some more, snowboarding, (too bad my little sister's already better than me) a little more eating, coming to the realization of how out of shape I truly am at good old Gold's Gym, and of course, eating still more. It's been kind of lazy. But I do start the real world of BYU in about 10 hours, and seeing how I haven't been to a real college class in... well, longer than it's been since Paris Hilton had her last DUI that's for sure, it might be a little bit of a culture shock.
Although I am looking forward to having a little structure in my life and having more to do than just eat and entertain myself during the day, it's going to be a bit difficult to step back into the competitive world of Cougars. To combat this anxiety, I decided to make some New Years resolutions. 4 days late.

1. Stop procrastinating. As you can see my New Years resolutions done on the fourth of January is a telltale sign of what a big part of my life this is.
2. Get a job. This is probably going to mean a lot less America's Next Top Model.
3. Stop wasting so much time. This is definitely going to mean a lot less America's Next Top Model.
4. Make friends in ALL my classes. I'm starting to think that this post displays my social skills as somewhat under par, but really I'm a pretty friendly person. Mostly. There's just something about being in class that shuts me down. But not this year.
5. KEEP THESE RESOLUTIONS!

Yes. I realize the last one is kind of covered in the fact that the aboves are "resolutions" and not just some happy thoughts on life, but I thought if I typed it out it might help me realize it. That's why it's in all caps too. I once heard that if you typed something in all caps then it is the online equivalent of yelling. So forgive me for raising my voice. I'm just excited to start school.

I'm Leaving On A Jet Plane

3 Hours.

That's all I have left of my London paradise.

I know I'm greedy by thinking that I deserve even one more day of this fabulous life, but how can I help it?

I'm convinced that no one had a better Study Abroad than London Fall 08. And I have the scientific evidence to back it up.

Not only have I had an aMAZing time here, but I have learned a lot. (Imagine that, learning on a study abroad?)

I've learned:

When they say there are going to be slight delays on the Circle Line, do NOT get on the train unless you never want to get to your final destination.

A sunny, blue sky do not mean that you won't come home looking like you just swam the English Channel.

Just because we walk everywhere and climb four flights of stairs to get to our room doesn't mean I deserve a magnum, Hummingbird's cupcake, Ben's Cookies, and possibly another Magnum. Every day.

The word cheers, when said with a British accent, can mean: please, thank you, you're welcome, hello, goodbye, pass the salt, shaken not stirred. . . and anything else a Brit needs to say.

But the most important things I've learned have been from the people I've spent these glorious months with. I wish I could name everything from every single person, but I don't think I could manage it in the three hours before my flight leaves. But to everyone of you--you touched my life. Thank you for being the type of girls that make me want to be a better person. I know I came to London for a reason, and it was to meet every one of you. You all deserve medals for putting up with me for four months. And the rest of your lives, because you're not getting rid of me!

Nothing but love.

Once Upon A December

I can't believe it is already December.

I have seen that month looming at the end of the calendar, but I don't think I ever really thought that it would have the bones to actually appear.

But it did.

Which means the lovely segment of my life that consists of reading the London Paper everyday, and eating West African food on the way home from the National Gallery must soon come to a close.

But let's not talk about that right now.

Let's talk about how everything in London is still amazing and I couldn't be happier to be here!

Thanksgiving was awesome, and we totally schooled London on what it's like to be a grateful American. We went to a synagogue in the morning. Which is a tradition in my family. Yeah you're right, it's not. But it was cool to hear a lot about Judaism, because all I really knew was based on my knowledge of Adam Sandler songs. Then we hit up some high tea at the Kensington Palace Orangerie, which was dreadfully good. The tea was herbal, of course, but it was so yummy! I may not have converted to Judaism, but I think I have converted to the tea-drinking way. By the way I take my tea with two lumps. And then some. After tea we had a bit of a photo shoot where the thanksgiving spirit descended as a pigeon onto Jordyn and Rebbie's heads.

The reaction was heightened by Jordyn's already nervous disposition, but as you can see Sara wasn't shaken at all, and the fuss only caused me to blink. Which I'm proud of.

Here's a closer view, courtesy of Jordyn's blog:

I hope this brings you as much joy as it brought Jordyn anguish.

After gorging ourselves on the Centre's version of Thanksgiving, (which was spot on, except there were no orange rolls (Thomases) or rowdy expletives (Browns) which made me sad, on both parts) we decided that in the grand tradition of the post-Thanksgiving movie-going we would go see a musical.

Lion King.

Blew my mind. I knew I would love it though, it's got animals, and music, and is backed up by Disney. It couldn't go wrong.

Au Revoir Paris

Although I'm so sad to see this beautiful city go, I say goodbye with bittersweet breath. After a delightful last day of Sacre Coeur, catacombs, faire de magasins and one last crepe avec jambon, oignons, fromage, pomme de terre et salade, we headed toward the train station. That's where it all went bad. Running all the way across Paris to get that delectable crepe, pushed the time limit and left Rebbie, Jordyn and me running through the Gare du Nord to pick up our luggage and run madly around the terminal looking for our train. It was at Passport control that I realized I didn't have just that.

My Passport.

It was in the bag which my lovely roommate Lauren had so kindly picked up for me because we were late. I frantically tried to tell my friends where my passport could be in the bag as they were going through border patrol and onto the train which was holding my bag where my passport was nestled safely between my well-worn keds and fake Juicy Couture perfume. Mind you, our train is supposed to leave in mere minutes. As my friends tore through my dirty socks and cardigans, I sat in limbo between customs and passport control with tears running down my American face which chocked up my few French words about how I need to go to England. During this whole mess I'm trying not to look at my watch as much as possible but I can't help but notice that my train is leaving very, very soon (forgive the lack of particulars, my watch doesn't have numbers on its face) and I am still an American who needs to go to England but is stuck in France.

Just as I'm imagining myself going back to the hotel we just checked out of, with my metro card that just expired and find the American Embassy where I can wait in line for a week and get a new passport; a few security personnel approach me and start asking me all these questions in French, English and probably a little Spanish, with which all I could reply with was "J'ai perdu mon passport et j'ai besoin d'aller au l'Angleterre!" Finally, one of them asks me my name and I respond with Je m'appelle Alexandra Thomas (thanks Ann!) and he hands me the most beautiful little blue book I've ever seen: my PASSPORT! Now with tears of joy I run like Pocahontas when she dances with the colors of the wind through security and relax. A little bit like my friend Anna.

Apart from the stress at the end there, there were definitely some fabulous times to be had in the city of love.

A little photo session on the top of the Eiffel Tower at dusk

As beautiful as that was, I don't think it topped the absolutely divinely inspired Greek crepe (I know right?) we had on La Rue Mouffetard. TOO good. This is the one that almost got me stranded in France.

As you can see by my face it was totally worth it.

Paris Holds The Key To My Heart!

Bonjour mes amis!

I thought that I might do my whole blog en Francais, and then I remembered that thanks to 5 years of French all I know how to say is that I like ice cream and that I'm 14 years old.

So that will come in handy if I meet a pedophile.

Despite my limited language skills, I am tres excite! (Use your decoding skills to decipher that). I can't wait to go stay in a hotel where I don't have to run madly down the hall to find a very dirty community bathroom that I share with an interesting cocktail of European youth.

Or have the assurance that I won't be fed sausage, ham, baked beans, soup and toast for breakfast.

But the best thing about the delicieux food, and the beautiful city filled with beautiful people is that they all come with the Euro! This blessed form of currency doesn't make the dollar look quite as ridiculous as the pound does and maybe I'll feel like my country has more to back up my little George Washington than Monopoly money.

Coming Of Age In London

Seeing as my dear friend Jordyn is about to turn twenty and leave the safety of her teen years to enter into true adulthood, I have been thinking a lot about the future. And I don't really like it. It scares me to be as old as I am. I don't like that I can remember things that were ten years ago, and I don't like that kids who I baby-sat are getting their licenses, but I especially don't like that in a few months' time I will no longer be a teenager and I'll end up being one of those people that tell you that they were once your age not too long ago, and then the recipient of the lecture just rolls their eyes as I fix my dentures and pull up my panty hose.

But instead of lamenting my fear of growing up, I decided to take affirmative action with where my life is headed, so I'm devoting this post to a list of things I'd like to do before I'd die.

Please note that this list is provisional, and subject to change.

1. Be in a Britney Spears music video. (I know everyone says she's past her glory, but the classics never die)

2. Raise a lion cub (I might settle with just petting one, after I thought about how big lion poop probably is) so I can have a "Christian the lion" experience. If you haven't seen this on youtube, I highly recommend it. It changed my life.

3. Make a fat-free croissant and fat-free bacon. Or just live long enough to see it done.

4. Find evidence of a mysterious phenomenon (i.e. Bigfoot, Lochness monster, UFO etc.) and be published in the National Enquirer.

5. Eat at Beto's (your finest 24 hr. burrito supplier) and not regret it. Just once!

6. Make an ice sculpture like Bill Murray in Groundhog Day.

7. Become cultured enough that I no longer am entertained by low-budget and low IQ reality TV shows. They get me every time.

8. Come to be unashamed that I really love baked beans, carrot cake and corn bread.

9. Perfect the Angelina Jolie Sexy Scowl.

10. Yield more raw power than Oprah herself.

I know those are some pretty lofty goals, but at least I have 6 months before I really have to start thinking about them.

I wish I could say the same for Jordyn.

My Claim To Fame

I know guys. I know. You're all insanely jealous of me right now, right? For all of those who, for some reason, can't tell; this is a picture of Leonardo DiCaprio. You see the pink blur? He is two blurs to the left from that. Beautiful.

Ok, in my defense there were adoring fans all around and since I was clearly the muscles of the situation I was the one hoisting the little girl on top of my shoulders. Thus the horrible picture.

But who else can say they have an unrecognizable picture of the back of some semi-washed up teen heartthrob's head?

Yeah, I'm pretty lucky.

I really did get to see him though, and it was quite grand. Right when I looked into his blue eyes I knew that even though I was squished into the arm pit of some full grown man who kept yelling "Leo" at the top of his lungs approximately every seven seconds (he must have been pretty close to Leonardo because he was comfortable enough to call him Leo), Leonardo saw me and knew that we would be fast friends. I am expecting a call anytime soon and he'll invite me to drink cocoa with Gisele and him.

I wonder what I'll wear...