Our move from San Francisco to London has taught me many things, one being that the comforts we left behind are difficult to replace. This, of course, was part of the deal and we expected it, bloody hell we even looked forward to it. There would be no point in moving thousands of miles away if we simply brought everything with us and lived our lives in exactly the same way.
|Why didn’t we think of this?|
In the old country, nothing made me happier than being dug into the couch with a Mexi-melt, glass of Zin, and the LA Kings in High Def. An unabashed drive-thru visit to Taco Bell, despite the latest smear campaign, was a surefire way to put a true smile on my face. A post-meal walk with my wife down to Crissy Field was a reminder of how incredibly lucky my life had become. These things were my comfort blanket, in the old country.
To the point: Here, there is no NHL package, the sophisticated English palettes turned Taco Bell away, and Crissy Field is a long swim away. I have felt an instinctual pool to replace my comfort blanket, to find calm in something. I pray I have not replaced the NHL with BBC Saturday Football or Scrubs and Two and a Half Men (which alternate on the British Comedy channel literally all day and night – those Brandon Frasier Scrub episodes get me every time), and surely my new Taco Bell cannot be Pret A Manager and their prefab sandwiches and wraps (which are delicious along with a cup of free internet). Okay, maybe the Thames is a worthy, albeit temporary, fill-in for Crissy Field.
Right, to the point: There is only one thing in my life that need not be replaced. There is one constant; lovable on either side of the pond, dependable in any time-zone. She reminds me that the comforts we left behind really do not matter since they can be replicated, replaced, or even forgotten. With her by my side I can watch any sport, eat faux-meat at any restaurant, or walk along any body of water. Doing any of these things, with her, reminds me of my good fortune. Hell, she even makes Hallmark holidays bearable. To my beautiful wife, happy Valentine’s Day. Get home early, Fulham plays Chelsea and I am considering making tacos.
Categories: Bloody Hell, Observation, Rambling
If Kether were an item at Taco Bell I think she would be a Burrito Supreme. I think it is better not to explain why.
Thank you guys! Hard not to be cheesy these days…and I'm not talking about tacos.
Nice to hear a man be able to feel and verbalize his emotions for his wife/gfriend. I truly believe that it is a necessary quality in a healthy relationship. Happy Vday. Anyway, keep up your writings.
Well said Dom..
nick you are a true romantic….she she is a lucky girl to have you….and you my son are truly blessed to have her……….happy v day kiddo's…………..