An All American Family

Now that the school term has officially ended and the Californian summer is well and truly here, we appear to have metamorphed into a typical all American family. 

The Teenager is currently attending summer school – there’s none of those long lazy lie-in’s for us. Summer School is a Californian educational must-have; the chance to improve on those grades for some, or fortunately for our teenager, the opportunity to get a couple of compulsory subjects out of the way to free up space in next term's highly academic schedule for some lightweight art “electives”. Of course we have to pay for this privilege – as do her friends attending public (state) run summer schools, and if she wasn’t at the Summer Academy (and some of her friends appear to be there from 7.00 in the morning until 7 at night) she would have a total of 11 weeks off school.  So why they just don’t extend the school term for another 5 weeks in order to fit everything in?

Daughter No 1 is currently here too, volunteering as a counselor at a local children’s summer camp. That’s another All-American must-have; with 11 long weeks to fill summer camps provide the ideal solution not just for working parents who need to find childcare, but for High School kids looking to earn credits towards college entry through voluntary work.  University places in California are like gold-dust – you don’t just need the straight A’s to get accepted; you need to have been in at least six school sports teams, chaired a dozen after school clubs and have completed several hours worth of “community service”. Don’t even think about applying to the big two, USC or UCLA, without it.

So the kids are well and truly embracing their new American lifestyle.  After camp and after school they trot off together to Starbucks to indulge in some frothy toffee café latte type thing. The Teenager is now in possession of a Starbucks Gold Card and enjoys all those little extra upgrades this brings - extra caramel, extra ice, extra calories.  She has also realized that at 15 and a half she can now apply for a driving permit so is about to embark on a course of “Driver Ed”.  Scarily enough as soon as she’s passed her written test she can start to drive on the road as long as she accompanied by a “competent adult” (that wont be me then.)

I keep thinking am I going to be the last bastion of Britishness in this family or have even I  succumbed to the Californian way of life?  I do still take my own bags to the supermarket but I have just signed up for golf lessons - although I am not sure if that is embracing a new lifestyle or just part of the natural aging process.

Perhaps the most telling sign of this acclimitisation is literally just that – we’ve started putting the air conditioning on. A few days of temperatures well up in the 90’s and I realize I am housebound again – it’s straight from the air conditioned apartment to the air conditioned car.  And then when the “marine layer” moves in for a day or two we welcome it as light relief – Cloudy today? Oh thank goodness for that…spoken like a true Californian.

And because it’s too hot I’ve had to curtail my morning walks and have resorted to visiting the  residents’ gym. Like everything else in America, exercising is highly competitive. I’ve usually got the gym to myself but occasionally I’ll be joined by a total fitness fiend – someone who puts me to shame burning off 600 calories in one 15 minute session.  I much prefer the alternative – the exercise-phobe who strolls in with a cup of coffee and positively dawdles along on the running machine.  Then it’s my turn to feel ultimately superior and I fear all that competitiveness has rubbed off on me…….you really think five minutes walking at that speed will keep you fit?

As always there is a big flat screen TV up on the wall in the gym but this constant obsession with the TV is definitely part of American culture that I haven't embraced. If I’m exercising on my own I don’t have the TV on – after all it’s normally first thing in the morning, I’m contact lens-less and quite frankly have enough trouble seeing the digital readout in front of my nose let alone a TV screen a few feet away – that’s just a blurry distraction.  However, part of a regular American warm-up routine will be the search for the TV remote and several subsequent channel hops.  I have actually been asked if the TV was broken simply because it was off – there was a complete look of amazement when I replied no I just hadn’t switched it on.  You’re kidding me!

No I’m quite happy just jogging along to my I-pod.  The livelier the music the quicker I tend to run.  Green Day’s “American Idiot” seems to work quite well for me. ;-)

Manic Monday

It’s the start of the week and another typical day here in the bubble. 

 

7.30 am and it’s time for the school run. This five mile drive to school never passes without incident and this morning is no exception.  Positively incensed by the ignorance of the super-school mom and dad who decide that rather than drive into the drop-off car park they will actually block the exit whilst dropping their kids off  in the street. Never mind the rest of us!! Quick blast of the horn and scowl. 

Forego the power walk and the gym this morning and return home for a housework-out instead.  I haven’t picked up a cleaning cloth since we got back from England over a week ago. Vacuum, scrub and dust for at least an hour but then admit defeat against the LA grime which filters into the apartment despite the window screens. Abandon plans to tackle the teenager’s bedroom.  That’ll have to wait. It’s Ex Wives club day and I’m off out for coffee.

10.00 am Ex Wives coffee morning. There are eight of us today –  all our partners bar one have moved to California to work on the same project.  No-one is looking forward to the next stage of the assignment when the men have to relocate to Saudi Arabia but so far only one wife has definitely committed to accompanying her husband out to the Middle East.  Everyone else in a bit of a dilemma as to whether to go or not. We’re all bored silly here in California where we have all the freedom in the world; being stuck on a compound in the middle of the desert sounds like no fun at all.  We console each other and agree to meet again in two weeks for lunch. What a life!

12.00 noon Head home and pay a visit to the post office.  It’s Monday so, just like back in the UK there is a long queue. Only two “windows” open and this being America nobody hurries themselves.  One of those moments of quality time to reflect and meditate. Can't help but overhear inane conversation behind me – one women complaining to the other that she has had great difficulty finding a Mother’s Day card suitable for her sister (?) I’m not surprised.

Quick lunch and then, revitalized, bravely set out with the vacuum again – there’s just time to tackle the teenage bedroom issue before the afternoon school run.

 

2.00 pm and it’s time to hit the road.  What delights can I look forward to on this trip? Stop at lights and realize the driver in the car next to me is eating some sort of ice-cream Sundae.  It looks very yummy and this guy will be a strong contender for my weekly “Multi-Tasking Whilst Driving Award” (last week’s winner was the woman  spotted in traffic on main street Pasadena with an i-pad balanced on her steering wheel).  Multi-Tasking whilst driving is positively encouraged in America; in-car dining facilities can make or break a vehicle sale -  never mind miles per gallon, it's whether the drinks holder take a super-grande-mocha-chocco-latte-frappe or not that counts. I speed swiftly away from the lights and leave Mr Whippy scooping up his nuts.

How was the teenager’s day? Surprisingly good - she was supposed to have sat a test she’d missed in history but the teacher had said she could do it the next lesson.  He then handed out the results to the rest of the class who had done the test whilst she was away and went through the answers.  That’ll be an easy one then.

Back home and I walk across the road to Ralphs to pick up some groceries.  I’ll do a big shop tomorrow –  living in a 5^th floor apartment, large shopping trips have to be planned with military precision and always involve several extra-strong reusable bags and a small suitcase. Today I just nip out spontaneously to pick up a few things for tea. We’re detoxing so it’s salad.

6.00 pm and hubby’s home unexpectedly early.  Feeling like a desperately bad housewife because he’s caught me on the computer again, I hastily assemble the salad.   After dinner we sit down and as the others can’t find a suitable alternative on any of the remaining 300 TV channels, I get to watch House Hunters and House Hunters International for the rest of the evening. 

9.30 pm and I realize I must have dozed off, either that or the unassuming British family buying a rustic little place in Spain have doubled their budget and magically morphed into a couple of wealthy Americans searching for something luxurious in the Caribbean.  It must be time for bed.

Oh the excitement of living in LA!