Football and Fears: Pre-Voyage Babbling

My freshly manicured toes and I are sitting nestled into my comfy couch watching the Patriots (Moss just made the most beautiful one-handed catch) and it just hit me-- no more Sunday football. No football at all. Or rather no American football and an excess of "football." Add that to the list of seemingly trivial concerns that I've begun filing away. So I figured it's as good a time as any to start writing the blog that will undoubtedly deteriorate into some jumble of unintelligible thoughts and rambling. Or maybe it already is that.

Topping my current list of concerns? As mentioned the Patriots have made me painfully aware of the lack of American sports I'm about to face. I wont pretend to be #1FaNgUrl for the Pats but I like to yell at the TV as much as the next person. I'm not exactly looking forward to watching the World Series at strange hours of the night. And, considering the last time I watched the Celtics play I wound up crying in a bar on the shoulders of a (shockingly) sympathetic Lakers fan, I'm also feeling a slight ache in my heart at not being able to check in on Rondo and the Grandpas (nickname courtesy of Will Otto).

(Fun side note: the next game I'll watch in America will be versus Philly's own 76ers)

Also high on my list is a totally illogical fear that helps explain the title of my blog: they spell everything funny. Pyjamas? Don't think so. Their slang? Strangest ever. Okay so I don't have to battle extreme culture shock (I'll leave that to Adrienne in Mali) and there's no language barrier (as I write this Allison is trying to navigate a call with a Spanish phone company) and really when it comes down to it I've got a peachy little situation lined up. But I don't quite know how I could ever hear "I'll knock you up in the morning" and not respond "Um... thanks but no?" [Knock up? Wake up.]

So assuming anyone has made it this far into this post and is still with me, I wont make you listen to the rest of my concerns. After all, that's what moms are for. Besides, some of them, such as the "Oh-shit-what-if-it-turns-out-I-have-hoof-and-mouth-and-they-wont-let-me-into-the-country," seem just a wee bit neurotic and are.. well, they're concerns that only I could dream up. I'm not sure when my mind turned Heathrow into Ellis Island...

Now it's time for excitement. The next time I write my bags will be packed (maybe), I'll be in London (hopefully), and all my fears will have faded away (fat chance). And if you bear with me and my strange use of punctuation, kudos to you. If not, I'll survive.