And I call her "mother"

Tonight is my last night here in London. Rasheed just got a call from his little brother, so I'm chilling here for a few minutes. We just got in from one of our favorite neighborhood walks (down "millionaires' row" in Notting Hill, where we laugh about what must go on in all of those big houses; we don't even touch the embassies, though).

It's been a good last day, too. We went to the Tower of London & revelled in all the torture & murder & scheming there (special exhibit on the 1605 Gunpowder Plot). Crown jewels, though, very dull. But seeing them with Rasheed made it entertaining. Frankly, I think we were most impressed by the security, especially the vaulted doors they lock everything behind at night!

And then I call my mom to give her my flight info and let her know what time I'll be landing in Chicago on Sunday night...so someone can come pick me up, or so I think. The only problem is that she and my dad will have just spent the weekend in St. Louis, and HE doesn't want to do any more driving and SHE doesn't want to brave the O'Hare traffic NOR does she want my little brother driving in to get me. So the verdict? "Take the bus," she says. And she's so excited to see me, but: "take the bus." The logical side of me says that this is not a big deal, that this is totally understandable, that yes, this is a pain-in-the-ass amount of driving, and it would be so much easier for them to just come get me in Rockford; but another part of me is whining, "But I will have just had an eight hour flight a few days ago, and then a flight from D.C. to Washington with a stopover in Pittsburgh & two time changes in just a few days whinewhinewhine..."; but then, this little pathetic part of me just wanted someone to BE there at the airport, happy to see me after I've just left Rasheed and spent a few days in a strange city (yes, it's exciting, but at the same time, I will have just left this city and this person I LOVE to go hang out with a bunch of people I don't know in a city with which I'm unfamiliar). I just wanted to be able to SEE someone there, to have someone to go to as soon as I got in, to do the whole cheesy arrivals gate thing, run and hug and, hell, maybe even do the emotional girl thing and cry a little. "Take the bus," she says. "Good thing I have overdraft coverage," I say. "Now I'm going to go enjoy the rest of my last night in London." And so I turned back into logical-girl and looked up bus times from O'Hare to Rockford: they leave every hour and tickets are less than twenty bucks one-way. This isn't so bad. Hell, I've shared a bus with just-released convicts (their scant belongings still in brown paper bags) from Champaign to Chicago for one of my interviews, and those guys were beyond charming (we shared my left-over Halloween candy). This should be nothing.

And as soon as Rasheed is done on the phone, I will (enjoy my last night, that is, not share more candy with non-present convicts). Cheryl, I just read your entry, and ice cream isn't sounding so bad right now - the shops here are open waaaay late at night - and I can't get enough of this neighborhood before I go!

Aaaaand I hear him saying good-bye...

So good-night to all and see most (if not all) of you soon!