For many of us who try to make ends meet living in London                              (as you may have heard, life here is a bit expensive), we                                  are always happy to find a healthy inexpensive meal out. Lucky for us local Londoners, car parking and a proper English Breakfast may often be found in the very same place.

Next week parking spaces will feature a curry lunch.

A friend commented recently how much she would like a quaint English garden for her home in the US. She was quite jealous of the wonderful English gardens that we enjoy while living in London. Although our garden is nothing special (mostly storage + Milo's bathroom), instead I thought it would be nice to feature a view of our neighbors lovely garden. Just imagine bees buzzing, birds chirping, + bunnies hopping around this beautiful example of English culture at it's finest... I can smell the flowers now...

While visiting Berkeley last week, I discovered a horrible truth that had been hidden from my view by my father. While caring for the beloved Purple Clover (not son-of-purple-clover who lives in the UK), it appears that my good father (commonly known as GF) failed at his duties of ensuring the continued happiness and conditions to which Purple Clover had become accustomed. These conditions to which Purple Clover had become accustomed included a substance named water.

Sadly, it appears that GF caused the demise of the original Purple Clover... and then he covered up his eeevil crime. Realizing that I would be visiting soon and immediately ask about the welfare of Purple Clover, GF obtained an appendage of one of the cloned children of Purple Clover (this child now lives in a large area under a deck in the Bay Area, very Harry Potter) and then he secretly planted it in the original hand-painted-art-pot designed for Purple Clover. Propped on the Purple Clover porcelain throne, I was oblivious to the hideous deception of the Zombie Purple Clover (though quite impressed with his robust health). Although I am still working through the grief of loosing such a good friend at the hands of my father (time for more therapy), no one else in the family appears concerned by the fact that my father continues to babysit my niece Zoe...