Ingrid's posterous

This one's just for fun! I've spotted that Plant Delights has a new spring catalog cover that is just cracking good. If you like gardening and if you like social media...which I do.

I've used Plant Delights before to buy gifts for my mom; they have an amazing collection of perennials. I have an un-satisfied hosta-mania (too many slugs and snails in my garden) and the Plant Delights hosta collection is brilliant. I could happily browse through the hosta pages for ages, drooling and dreaming.

And I love this catalog cover, too. So clever - and even a nod to WikiLeaks. Hortville looks like the one Facebook game I could actually play - building my fantasy garden of hostas in a snail-free zone.

This mirrors my special transatlantic relationship. But sometimes these Brits can be tricky and pretend that they don't know that we know best. Yes, I'm looking at YOU, dear husband.

Anyone with a small child finds themselves making a lot of animal noises. "What does a dog say? Woof. Woof." That sort of thing.

The boy is quite happy with that. But he's not so keen on random animal noises.

"Meow. Meow." I said one day.

They boy became quite annoyed. "You not a cat. You mommy."

"Meow."

"You MOMMY!!!"

Like wiggling a loose tooth, I now find I can't resist. "Meow," I say. Often, but at (hopefully) random, unpredictable intervals.

He responds. "Fancy is a cat. You Ingrid. You not say meow."

Meow.

Another trip to Wimbledon Park playground, where they boy dashed between the fountain-cum-wading pool, the sandpit and the climbing frame - wearing nothing but a swim nappy.

We finished off with ice cream. He chose the 'blue' flavour, which is very popular among the youngsters. They call it bubblegum, but it didn't taste much like bubble gum. Nor did it taste 'blue' whatever that might be. I tried a taste, but to be honest it didn't come close to the delicious and tangy lemon ice I chose.

But Bill liked it well enough, he at it down to the last bite. The first time he's ever done that.

Oooh - how cool is this?

This is a family blog - normally - so please excuse my brief foray into the crude...

Everyone who spends any time in London develops a mental cop of the famous Underground map originally designed by Harry Beck, with it's simplified mapping of lines each with their own colour and clear indications of interchanges between tube lines.

When my brother came to stay with us for a summer in London almost a decade ago, we spent a drunken night (or two) with my Brent colleagues. I don't remember much about our tours of the drinking dens of Wembley, but I do remember one person referring to anal sex as 'changing at Baker Street' - because it's the only station where you can change from the pink tube line (Hammersmith and City) to the brown line (Bakerloo). We rolled with laughter and unfortunately I've never been able to receive or give instructions about changing at Baker Street station without a brief tour through the gutter.

Yesterday Dana Franks shared a London-tube-map style of the US Interstate system. It's a pretty cool representation. I had to check out Knoxville, the city of my birth. And what do I see? It's the only place in America where you can change from the pink line to the brown line. It's brings a whole new perspective to the I-40 to I-75 interchange.

We were in Greenwich yesterday, visiting the National Maritime museum. Not all of it was air conditioned and we were relaxing on the long walk between the museum proper and The Queen's House. This bride and groom (to be) were getting ready for a photo shoot (if you ask me, they should have waited until later in the day when the light was better). They were just standing around while their photographers were discussing how to set up the shots.

They were approached by foreign family (I heard them say something in French) who didn't quite understand what was going on. I'm not sure if they thought they were museum exhibits or visiting royalty or what. But anyway the mother and asked to pose their children with them. The bride and groom had bemused expressions explained what they were up to, but gamely posed for the family shot.

I was sitting on some steps nearby eavesdropping on the exchange, so I took a picture, too - 'cos I thought it was funny.

I showed this to Bill, whose always fancied himself quite the dancer. But not really comparable to this.

(Showing colleagues the powers of posterous)

The boy was quite excited by all the World Cup paraphernalia. The flags, the bunting, the football t-shirts. The three lions everywhere. The England themed mini-footballs for sale in the grocery store.

But he wasn't quite as excited by the actuality. He didn't like watching football. And he didn't like me watching it either. Screaming, shouting, demanding Scooby. At one point he told me "We already watched football."

This weekend it was the knockout stags for the two nations for which he holds a passport. USA v Ghana on Saturday. England v Germany on Sunday.

On Saturday night, Simon asked him "Who do you want to win?" - "Ghana?" he said in a small disapproving voice. "Or USA!?" he said in an excited, encouraging voice.

"Ghana," said the boy. And just to emphasise the point "Ghana," he said again.

In a neutral tone, I asked him yesterday. "Who do you want to win? England or Germany?"

"Germany," said Bill.

Now, as far as I know the words Germany and Ghana had never before crossed his lips. But he was resolute, despite the fact I've been teaching him to say "Come on, England" and chant "USA! USA!"

OK, you may say that it was lacklustre performance, an absence of heart, a dearth of defense or bad calls. But I'm a superstitious sports fan. During his first football season ever (2007 Tennessee football) we noticed a correlation between him wearing orange and winning. That's enough scientific proof for me. The boy determines the outcomes of sporting competitions.

So, we know who's to blame. Sorry everyone.

Oh, the backwards cap. The following of fashion. He saw another boy at the botanical gardens wearing his hat backwards and had to try the look. Our influence is ebbing away.