Day camping birthday girl

Before living in the US, I used to hear the words 'summer camp' and then instantly associate it with teenagers spending weeks on end in rustic cabins by picturesque lakes, far away from home. I suppose I'd watched one too many movies as a kid, where this was the case. Does anyone remember Poison Ivy, with Michael J Fox? Or the original The Parent Trap? I'd always assumed that 'camps' were simply the American version of British boarding schools - but for summer time instead.

It wasn't until last summer, when the Faery had finished Kindergarten and was waiting to start Grade One, that I learned of summer day camps, and how entirely different they were. Not boarding school, but essentially a version of child care for older kids. Many of the Faery's school friends were enrolled in various day camp programmes over the summer - mostly out of necessity with two working parents, or sometimes to give their mothers a break. I didn't really feel the need to sign the Faery up because I wasn't working and couldn't justify the cost.

A factor that I didn't consider at the time, though, was the duration of American summer holidays.

In Australia, the school year tends to finish around mid-December, and begin by the end of January - a total of six weeks of summer freedom. In Los Angeles, school finished in early June and will resume in mid August. In Seattle, the summer break is from mid-June until early September.

That's around two and a half months of no school. In the Faery's case, her summer break is three months long, due to the move between different states and school districts. THREE MONTHS!

The first three weeks were a dizzy social blur for her, as I tried to ensure she saw as much of her buddies as possible before the big move... and then we moved.

This move has been harder on her than any of us. There have been tears galore, and pining for her friends. Despite me throwing a two-month-early birthday party for her in L.A. (knowing we'd be in Seattle and she wouldn't know anyone on her actual birthday), the past week has seen her express the most heart-wrenching statements - designed for maximum guilt - such as "What I REALLY want for my birthday is friends."

I've done my best to try and make the transition to Seattle fun, and between unpacking and the usual just-moved-to-a-new-city errands, most days have involved trips to explore different parks, playgrounds, and lakeside beaches. We even did our first bus ride into downtown Seattle last week.

It hasn't been enough to fill the social hole, though. We've been here just over a month, and there is still another whole month to fill before school starts... so J and I decided to enrol her at a nearby day camp for this week, in the hope that she'll enjoy hanging out with other kids her age. The local community runs a Monday-Friday programme, from 8.45 - 5, and makes use of the park that it's located in, and the nearby pool, with field trips to roller skating rinks, beaches, interspersed with arty/crafty activiti es. Every time we've walked through the park and past the community centre these last few weeks, we've seen the day camp kids hanging out and they seemed to be really enjoying themselves.

I was keen to sign her up sooner than later, but it turned out - availability aside - they were pretty strict about her being seven years old (the camp is for 7-11 year olds), so I had to wait for the week she turned seven.

That day came yesterday. The sweetest kid I know had her seventh birthday, and what did I do? I packed her off to summer day camp on her actual birthday. It sounds awful, I know. She'd spent the last week insisting she didn't want to go to camp. We did our best to make the lead up to her birthday fun - she got a new scooter, plus a bike without training wheels a week early (J has spent every evening teaching her to ride the bike, and she's pretty much got the hang of it now). We promised her a yummy dinner out at a place of her choice, and - of course - birthday cake.

Oddly enough, there was a shift in her attitude about the camp, and when it was time to go - her backpack crammed with her swimsuit, towel, sunscreen, lunch and snacks - she was genuinely excited. I had a knot in my stomach all day, hoping she was enjoying herself. When it was time to collect her, I arrived fifteen minutes early... and she was so intent on the beading activity she was doing, that it took those same fifteen minutes to wait until she'd decided to pack up. The drive to her birthday dinner was peppered with small stories about things that happened that day, and I knew she was okay.

This morning, she practically ran from the car to the community centre, and I had to catch her for goodbye kisses. At this rate, I'm going to be praying that there's a spot for her in another week's programme... and I'm thankful that she's happy.

6 years and 361 days old.

Birthday dinner of burgers and shakes, along with pinball, Galaga and Pacman.
Exhausted from day camp.

Playing Galaga with J.

Cake time. Happy Birthday, my sweetness.

Hard and fast

I've been a little missing in action, I guess.

Technically though, one post in five weeks really isn't too bad when you consider that it took me a full eight months to pull my finger out and even start this blog after moving from Australia to Los Angeles. By that standard, I could give myself another month or two before even thinking about logging in to Blogger, right? After all, we've just moved 1,800 km. That's nothing to be sneezed at, even if it's not quite the international move we made back in 2010.

I don't actually know where to begin, so I'll probably just ramble for a bit. I'm good at that.

Our moving truck arrived in early July - just in time for us to spend the entire July 4th holiday unpacking. That's how everyone wants to spend their holiday time, surely. Or maybe not.

It was then another couple of weeks without cable or internet hooked up, hence my silence here. Instagram was my guilty pleasure during that time, and I'm pretty sure I racked up a hefty data bill on my phone in that time. Instagram aside, having no internet to distract me meant I was able to get the unpacking done within a decent time frame. The downside of no cable or internet though? No TV to entertain the kids while I unpacked. Thank god for the iPad.

In all honesty, I'm not sure that having earlier internet access would have made much difference with my computer time. With such amazing weather at the moment - and knowing that a Pacific Northwestern summer doesn't last for too long - there's been a sense of urgency to getting outside and making every moment of blue skies count. And this is coming from someone who's not even a huge 'outdoorsy' type. I just know there's going to be plenty of time down the track, when we're hiding inside from the grey and wet... it'd be foolish now to spend precious sunlight hours hunching over a keyboard.

So far, we seem to have landed pretty well on our feet. Each day that passes, I'm even happier with the space we've moved into, and it hasn't taken long to feel like 'home'. The neighbours are all lovely, and the girls immediately took to the college-aged daughter on one side of us, asking her within ten minutes of meeting her whether she'd babysit for us (cheeky, and winning of them, and the answer was a resounding yes because apparently the feeling was mutual). Another friendly neighbour presented me with a bottle of wine, which is always an easy way to win me over.

We haven't done any terribly exciting explorations yet, but have spent most days getting to know our immediate area. Various parks and playgrounds have been tried and tested. Various supermarkets have been sussed out. Most importantly, various coffee houses have been visited. Our home is a mile uphill from the waterfront of Lake Washington. It's an area where I suspect parking could be tricky during the weekends and summer, due to the restaurants and cafes, so we tend to walk down a lot. The first couple of times, the walk home seemed a killer (I'd forgotten how living near water = steep, steep hills) but each time gets a little easier.

The silver lining to all those hills is that I can eat more doughnuts and drink more coffees. At least that's what I'm telling myself. Within days of arriving in Seattle's Eastside, we found ourselves at a small doughnut and espresso joint, and I've been smitten with that place ever since. The two people who run it (I can't figure out if they're siblings or a couple) are the sweetest, and make all the doughnuts themselves. They have cinnamon sugar doughnuts, which I never saw in L.A. but used to be a staple for me in Sydney. Win! Once or twice a week, I try to find an excuse to justify the 10-min drive to that neighbourhood so I can get my fix. The Faery and Miss Pie aren't complaining, either.

The only thing that's happened recently that sent a pang of sadness and missing my friends in L.A. was when I unexpectedly saw one of my closest friends on TV. Her daughter and the Faery are best friends at school, and our two families spent a lot of time together. The Faery was jumping up and down with excitement when she saw her on TV in a network promotion - for a kids show she works on - but I had a lump in my throat when I saw her face, knowing that although we plan to visit them (and have them stay with us later this year), it's still a while away.

So that's where we're at for now. Settling in pretty well, but little moments of sadness. Overall, I think I'm falling for Seattle's beauty. Like Sydney, this city is sprawled around a lot of water - making for incredible scenery. I've taken hundreds of photos already, and am going through somewhat of  honeymoon phase.

You know how there are people who fall hard and fast for other people? Intensely? That's me, but with cities. If I could bottle and sell the feelings I have as I discover a new city, I'd make a pretty penny.

Week One

The last couple of weeks we spent in Los Angeles were pretty much a clichéd whirlwind of craziness - bittersweet lunches, dinners and playdates with friends we'll miss, attempts to at least organise our belongings for the packers, and endless phone calls to coordinate the move itself - I have a stack of photos which I'll save for a later post.

We survived, but not without a fair amount of sweat (J & I) and tears (the Faery and - okay - me).
In some ways, though, the physical act of getting our things from A to B - 1,800 km apart - has seemed much easier this time round, compared to a year ago when we moved apartments within the same complex. There's a lot to be said for having other people pack and do all the lifting.

Four suitcases, two backpacks, two adults, two kids, and one caged cat later... we arrived at SeaTac Airport with surprisingly minimal drama, last Wednesday. Everything else we own is currently on a truck somewhere along the West Coast, to be expected any day now. We have the keys to our new place but it is empty for now.

Somewhere between getting off the plane, and getting our rental car.

First drizzly afternoon stroll, dodging slugs.

Even the sides of busy roads here have been beautified.

We arrived to drizzle, and I was little bummed after the amazing weather we'd been having down south. I'd known what to expect, but the immediate grey skies still disappointed me. Little did I know that a day later, the clouds would clear and a heat wave would roll in over the entire West Coast. Seattle is already a stunning city under grey skies, but when the sun comes out to play? Oh my. I cannot get over the green beauty of this place.

With temperatures peaking in the early 30s (Celsius), it was surprising to learn just how much I can sweat - despite these temps being nothing new to me, it was the humidity factor that I'd not had to deal with at all during our three years in L.A. High humidity and no air con in our  temporary accommodation has made for some incredibly sticky nights - reminiscent of Sydney summers. Seattle, I had no idea. There's a cool breeze today, and I never imagined I'd be so grateful for this, so soon after arriving here.

Lucky for us, the area we've been staying in has an amazing lakeside beach, with an equally gorgeous park next to it.  Although we've visited a number of playgrounds and waterfront parks since arriving, we spent several evenings at Idylwood Beach Park (doesn't the name alone sound like paradise?) during the peak of the heat wave, taking in the games of croquet and volleyball, families barbecuing, and kids diving off the lake's jetty as others surf paddle in the distance - all under the watchful gaze of teenaged lifeguards. That old saying 'to make hay while the sun shines' rings especially true around here. Unlike Los Angelenos, I get the feeling that Seattleites don't take the sun for granted.

My first solo sunset stroll in many, many months.

Idylwood Beach Park

Idylwood Beach Park

Kirkland Marina Park

Spins and secrets

The other thing that has me smitten are the (even) longer days. The sun doesn't set until after 9pm these days, which means it's still light and dusky at 10pm. Lengthy daylight hours have always been my favourite thing about summer, and I particularly loved summer in London because of this - many a late evening were spent in beer gardens as the sky slowly turned a deep azure. In the past, I've always been a stickler for strict early kiddo bedtimes, but the long days here are playing havoc with the girls' usual bedtime routine. We've relaxed about it because a) it's been so hot that it takes forever to fall asleep anyway, and b) there's no early morning school run to deal with, so isn't this what holidays are for? Besides, I think J has missed the girls so much that he is savouring his time with them when he comes home from work. Once they are in bed, it's still light enough for the two of us to enjoy a drink outside - even at half-past nine.

It's only been a week, but Seattle summer? I think I love you.

Emily agrees that late twilight hours are pretty cool.

Leaving California

We haven't even left Los Angeles yet, but I can feel the nostalgia creeping in already. What am I going to miss most? I have a fairly good idea.

Blue skies and mild winters
Well, that's an obvious one, right? Sure, sunshine day after day after day can sometimes get boring but overall, I'm a sunshine kinda girl. I need it in the way cats do and I'll admit it, I am a total wimp when it comes to being cold. I've loved that during winter, the morning school runs were never too horrendous - that is going to be an interesting learning curve in Seattle.

Verdugo Mountains
These are the mountains closest to us - and by 'close', I mean they are practically on our doorstep. We live right at the foot of them, and they are an amazing piece of landscape to see every day. Shrouded in fog in the mornings, misty swirls poking in and out of crevices. In the evenings, golden pink light radiates off the western facing surfaces. Okay, so they're not huge, and they don't get snow, but they feel like mine. I know we are going to have access to brilliantly snowy mountains when we're living in Seattle, but the Cascades are more distantly on the horizon and - during my few visits there - seem to be completely hidden by the clouds. I may be in for a shock, though, as I know that Mt Rainier almost levitates over the horizon... maybe the rest of the Cascades are impressive from a distance too. However, the mountains here that I have gazed at daily for the last three years have left somewhat of an imprint on me (but I can imagine Pacific Northwesterners reading this, shaking their heads, and saying to themselves "now that's not a mountain... THIS is a mountain" as they look out their window).

Porto's
Two words: Cuban, bakery. They are a local joint, and I'm told people will drive from two hours away to get their hands on some refugiados (guava cream cheese pastries) and potato balls (think spicy deep-fried balls of cottage pie). I only need to drive five minutes, and not only do they have some unique treats I've never had elsewhere, but their basic bakery fare - croissants and other pastries, cookies, bread, decadent cakes - are always super fresh and never disappoint.

In-N-Out Burgers
I'm generally not that big on fast-food chains, but In-N-Out make their burgers with fresh ingredients, on the spot - nothing processed. If you want fast but tastylicious, this is the place you want. Between you and me, I'm a little gutted that I won't be able to indulge in their burgers in Seattle.

Paradis Ice Cream
I don't go gaga for ice cream like most people I know. I've had a little obsession with Ben & Jerry's over the years but never really branched out and tried other brands of ice cream. Then a year ago, some friends introduced me to a little ice cream store about fifteen minutes away from us... and they have completely and utterly replaced my love for Ben & Jerry's. Paradis is a Danish company that - randomly - has a couple of stores in L.A. as well. I don't normally buy into the hype for organic or whatever, but their ice cream is organic and is THE SHIZZ. They make fresh batches on site every day. Their strawberry flavour actually tastes like nothing other than crushed strawberries. They make stracciatella instead of choc chip (très European, non?), their salted caramel is divine, and their mint/lime sorbet tastes like mojitos. Seriously. Just writing this, I'm mentally calculating when I can squeeze in another trip to Paradis before we leave.

The Latino vibe
So many Mexican stores - big and little - with fabulous food to buy, such as carne asada, stacks of freshly made tortillas (none of that Old El Paso crap), and soft drinks all sweetened with lovely cane sugar - as opposed to the awful corn syrup used in American drinks. I love hearing the beautiful Hispanic accents of so many Los Angelenos, and seeing the Spanish shop-front signs. And of course, the places to feast, Mexican-style.

Friends
This is the hardest one. Food love affairs are replaceable but great friends? Not so much. The first year in L.A. was a bit isolating but once the Faery began school, I very quickly hit it off with a number of wonderful like-minded parents - warm, welcoming people who we began socialising with outside of school hours. Great for the Faery, and great for us. I'm going to miss them... a lot.

*   *   *

And so the countdown is on. The removalists (or "movers" in American-speak) are booked for less than two weeks from now. There'll be a brief hotel stay here while we tie up loose ends, then we'll fly up. I'm incredibly grateful that the relocation package includes packing - this frees up much more time for me to focus on other move-related matters. I still need to clear out more junk, file a year's worth of paperwork since our last move, and sort out various (overdue) errands and appointments... all whilst trying to fit in maximum playdates and get-togethers with friends, so we can make the most of this time left in L.A. Most of this, I will be doing solo and so am summoning my superhero powers from wherever the hell it is that they reside.

This means I need to give the world of blogging a bit of a break, probably until we're in Seattle - which is scarily not far off. As it is, I've been composing a number of posts in my head over the past few weeks but by the time evenings hit, my slacker arse has been incapable of sitting at a computer to type. It's been a struggle, but since I had the realisation the other night that it's okay to go a few weeks without looking at this blog, I've felt lighter. One less task to find time for.

For now though, I can't leave without acknowledging....

Los Angeles? It has been a pleasure knowing you.

One foot here, one foot there

I've never really visited a city before, with the knowledge that it's going to be my future home.

When we landed in Los Angeles, in was a case of WHAM BAM! Welcome to your new home for the next however many years. NOW. You're here. NOW. What are your first impressions?

Many years earlier, it was a similar story when we arrived in London - except we were much younger, child-free, and had zero responsibilities. We hopped off the plane, blinking in delirium from the combination of jet lag and the excitement of being in a new country, far, far away. By the time work opportunities later took us to Brighton (still in the UK), and then to Melbourne, neither of those cities were unfamiliar to us. We'd visited, but long before the possibility of living in either destination had been on the cards.

In a way, my first time in Seattle - thirteen years ago - was like Brighton and Melbourne. I'd enjoyed the city, but viewed it through the filter of casual detachment that someone has when they believe they're just passing through.

Over the recent Memorial weekend, the girls and I made our second trip to Seattle for the year, and stayed for four days. This business of moving our family north has felt like an incredibly drawn out affair, so I was keen to try and convince myself that I was home.

To try Seattle on for size, and see how it fit. How it felt. How it tasted and smelled.

Trying Seattle on for size meant shrugging my shoulders each morning when I woke and noticed the grey skies and wet ground. It meant purchasing a quality rain jacket from REI (see? no umbrella... just like a local), and watching the girls splash in puddles and round up snails. It meant eating maple bacon donut-flavoured frozen yoghurt, and drinking the best damn coffee I've had since we moved to the US more than three years ago (not Starbucks, thank you). It meant setting foot inside our home-to-be, thanks to the kind tenants still residing there, and envisioning where our furniture will go.

Trying Seattle on for size meant noting the differences, and appreciating its beauty. The zig-zagging horizon in every direction, courtesy of the endless parade of firs, spruces, pines and cedars. The wild daisies, and red and yellow poppies that grow in abundance beside the freeway ramps. The fifty million shades of green... everywhere.

I tried Seattle on, and I think I'm going to love it there. I do. I'm impatient to get this move over with, so I can start this next chapter.

There is a 'but' coming, though. I'd be foolish to deny the place that sunshine, warm weather and blue skies hold in my heart. After four days of grey skies, on/off rain and layered clothing, I'd be lying if I said I didn't feel some relief to be wearing Havaianas and summery clothes again.

I'm torn, so I want to acknowledge that. I love the friends we've made in Los Angeles, and I love the sunshine... but I miss J, and I'm counting the days until the four of us are living under one roof again. I love how happy he is with his new job because he truly deserves it. I know that overall, things are going to be better for us in Seattle. I'm looking forward to this summer, so that the girls and I can explore the city properly, with adventures on buses and ferries.

Right now, though? Now. I feel as though half my heart is stuck in L.A, and the other half has jumped out and run to Seattle.

A Havaiana on one foot, a boot on the other...  it's just as well I have long legs, then.

* I'd like to proudly point out that due to the I-can't-be-bothered-factor (and watermarking aside), I've resisted editing all but two of the iPhone photos above. Seattle really is that green.

Upgrading

It might sound a little silly, but a feature of our Seattle home-to-be that I'm most excited about is a double garage, with internal access. I haven't really done suburban-style living as an adult, but am pretty much over the nightmare of transferring weekly grocery shopping from the car into the home.

This was never really an issue when we lived in London, Brighton or Melbourne - we were only shopping for two, so groceries tended to be bought on the way home from work, at one of various conveniently located supermarkets near the local tube, bus or tram stop. We had no car, but rarely felt the need for one.

Back in Sydney, the status quo changed from two to three of us, and we bought a small new car. Each of the houses we lived in were in densely populated suburbs, close to the city. Our only option for parking was on the street - and depending what time of day it was - it was often urban warfare. At one point, there was a local serial car-scratcher. Over a period of about six months, many cars on our block fell victim to large key scratches along the entire length of the paintwork - including ours and our lovely next door neighbour's. Charming, yes? The culprit turned out to be a resident of a nearby apartment block, who used to cross the street in front of us, on his drunken staggers home from the local pub. There were witnesses, several times, but the police were unwilling to do much. This fucker eventually moved, and the scratching stopped.

Here we are, now in Los Angeles. Although we're still a one-car family, we have two car spaces in a secure underground car park. In terms of security, it's a step up from street parking, but where convenience is concerned, it's a pain in the arse. Firstly, we cannot store anything in our allotted car spaces - not even bikes or kids wagons. Building policy.

Mostly, though, it's the matter of getting the weekly grocery shops from the car to the apartment.

I have to take a lift (or stairs) up to the ground floor. The lift opens to a passage way between buildings (outdoors), and I have to walk the length of, and around, one building, then through another passage way. The landscaping at this point is split level, so to reach my building I need to then go down a down a dozen steps (or use the ramps). That takes me to the front of my building, and I need to then go up an external flight of stairs to my front door, as it's on the first floor.

Not exactly straightforward, huh?

I can only carry so many bags at a time, and never the entire amount, so multiple trips are required... or I just prioritise and take up the cold things and anything else needed urgently, leaving the rest to be brought up after future car trips over the next day or two.

Sometimes I have the stroller with me, and I can load it up with a few more bags, but this presents its own problem. Miss Pie - who rarely wants to be in the stroller these days - usually decides that this is the time she has to be in it, and throws a tantrum either in the car park, or along the way to the apartment. Good times.

Alternatively, if I'm lucky, I can grab a spot on the street near the heavy gate that's closest to our building (it's very close). When I do this, I can make multiple trips to get all the shopping in, fairly easily. Get the first lot in, switch the TV on for Miss Pie, then run downstairs. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. The downside to this is that the car is then sitting in the stinking hot LA sun all day until I need to get the Faery from school. It's only really a good option during winter.

And on rainy days? They do happen here, making this grocery transfer suck even harder.

Having a double garage with internal access is going to be so, so sweet. Somewhere to store our bikes and zero hassles getting the shopping inside.

Bring Seattle on, I say.

Wanderings

When I was younger, I don't think I really paid much attention to when particular plants bloomed and flourished. Growing up in Sydney, I loved the abundance of frangipanis, bougainvillea and jacarandas. Sadly, frangipanis don't appear to be a popular choice in Los Angeleno gardens - I rarely see them - but if there's one thing I've learned to count on, it's that April in L.A. brings explosions of fuschia (bougainvillea), followed by even larger displays of purple trees (jacarandas). It's like a piece of home.

How about these 1920s Spanish Colonial Revival bungalows? I don't live in one, but most of the neighbourhoods in my area are chock full of these, and I adore them. I wonder what style of homes in Seattle will have me drooling equally?

A few weeks back, I went for a hike along Runyon Canyon with a girlfriend while both girls were at school... and it just about killed me. Partly due to declining fitness levels (after my main weight loss last year, I switched my cardio workouts to yoga classes), but I also think it was because I simply hadn't hydrated myself enough beforehand (I also woke up the next day with a killer sinus infection, which may be why I wasn't feeling so great either).

We got there around 10am, and the temperatures were already in the high 20s (ºC), with little to no shade along the main trails. In an effort to avoid major traffic at the southern end, we unwittingly made the mistake of starting at the northern end - ie at the top, off Mulholland Drive. It was easy cruising downhill... then we had to hike uphill to get back to the car. I was too ashamed to admit it to my friend, but I was this close to vomiting from the heat and dehydration. Lame, right? Adding further to my shame was the sheer amount of 'beautiful people' along the way - barely breaking a sweat, it seemed. Botoxed armpits? Who knows. My friend and I were talking the entire time so I didn't take a great deal of photos, but the views were pretty amazing. The Hollywood sign was much clearer than the below photo shows.

There's an outdoor shopping centre/mall only a short drive from home, and because of its proximity to the main library, its green lawns and kid-friendly activities, large Barnes & Noble bookstore, and Pinkberry frozen yoghurt, I go there fairly regularly. Such a mall rat, I know. But check it out:

It's a little like if Disney made a shopping mall. Frank Sinatra and Dean Martin are piped through speakers in the trees and there are regular choreographed fountain shows. An old style trolley car does a loop, which the Faery and Miss Pie can never get enough of riding on. Ding ding! 

And notice those multi-storey buildings? All apartments. The residents' pool is fancy schmancy, and I only know this personally because I have a couple of friends who live there (the pool shots I posted last month were taken there). One of these friends is the same friend I hiked with, and we've recently (in lieu of hiking) started going to the free yoga classes held on the lawn at the mall.

Doing downward dog and looking at that Tiffany & Co. store upside down each time was, well, surreal. I had to sneak in a photo right at the end of one of the classes. Incongruity aside, it's been enjoyable to do yoga outdoors for a change (under the dappled shade of a jacaranda - even better).

The above shot is one I had to throw in here, simply because I like it. It was taken on a road that runs parallel to the road I live on, just a block away. You know, I still don't understand the physics of these palm trees. How the hell do they stay upright?

As for the above hedges, it made me smile when I stumbled across it on a walk last week. Did the gardener forget his ladder one day? Did the owners fire the gardener half-way through the job? Are the owners paying homage to Dr Seuss? Tim Burton? Or do these hedges simply grow faster and more more wildly from the top? Who knows, but I'm all for whatever makes me smile.

The girls and I are flying to Seattle for the upcoming Memorial Day (and long weekend) so the countdown is on for when we all get to see J again. Five more sleeps...