I’m here in Austin, hanging out at South By – that’s what all the cool kids call it.  I, rather embarrassingly, was referring to the conference by its’ full name, South By South West.  As a SXSW virgin, I didn’t know any better.

The UK is well represented here.  I’m thrilled to hear British accents everywhere.  The weird thing is, I don’t feel connected to these people.  I feel a bit of a fraud, yes I’m British, but I’m not from there any more.  I don’t live there.  I’m losing touch with the culture.

I’m in an identity limbo.  People hear my accent and ask where I’m from.  I wish it was a straight forward answer.  It would almost be easier if everyone asked each other ‘where do you live?’  I didn’t have a long trans-Atlantic flight to get here, just a quick domestic flight from LA.  I don’t have any British friends here; all the people I know are American.

I’m just not a part of the British contingent here at SXSW.

There’s a fantastic stand on the trade show floor full of Union Jacks created by UK Trade and Investment, they help British companies break into the US market.  Their tables and wall are adorned with the British flag and I wanted to sit there and be British for a little bit.  This morning, they had a British Breakfast with bacon, eggs, tomatoes, mushrooms, the whole works and it was pouring with rain so that just added to the overall British feel.

Another stand is giving away red telephone boxes. Full size, bright red phone boxes.  It would look fantastic in our living room and I could use it to call home!

All the Brits will be heading back to the UK over the next few days.  I’ll be heading back to California.  I’m happy in California but feel a bit of a fraud amongst Brits now, as though I don’t deserve that nationality.

Or maybe I’ve analysed it just a wee bit too much (must be the Californian in me.)

I’m writing this post especially for Nappy Valley Girl.  I’m slightly ahead of her in the Brit living in America stakes, so was able to provide some tips for Valentine’s Day.

Next up?  St Patrick’s Day.  The holiday which ensures every single American becomes Irish for the day.

Here’s what your children will expect:

Green water in the loo

Green pancakes for breakfast

Green milk

Green cookies

Green decorations scattered about the house.

Those pesky leprechauns turn everything green on St Patrick’s Day.

No, I didn’t know any of this stuff either last year.  We turned up at a baseball game and the boys all compared what the leprechauns had done to each other’s houses.  Apparently, they hadn’t bothered to visit us, perhaps because we’re English?

Until we got home that is.  I found a bottle of green food colouring and lobbed it down the loo, praying it wouldn’t stain.  Great joy!  They may have been late but at least they’d come.  Luckily, as our tooth fairy has a tendency to wait one or two days before visiting (make that remembering) a late leprechaun wasn’t too much of a shock.

That’s for the children.  As the afternoon arrives, you must put on your green bikini, you know, that one with the shamrocks on.  Then head to the nearest Irish bar to stand in line for hours (oh dear, I’ve actually written ’stand in line’ instead of queue, forgive me) before finally getting inside to drink green beer.  That is the traditional way to celebrate St Patrick’s Day, isn’t it?

I was going to include a photo of me in my green shamrock bikini drinking green beer, but it’s mysteriously disappeared.

Our entire peninsula will be Irish for the day on 17th March.  My son has already hinted that he’s expecting the loo to be green.  How bizarre!  Who on earth came up with that idea?

I’m taking part in the Gallery again over at Sticky Fingers.  I have found a few new blogs to read from the list and it’s great to see everyone’s photos.  This week’s theme is ‘Numbers.’

I took this photo on Christmas Eve around 4pm last year.  Yes, it was the most beautiful day.  The boys were climbing the walls with excitement, so we all went out on a bike ride to get rid of some of their energy, in the hope that they might actually get to sleep before Father Christmas arrived.

The boys are all playing ‘Foot Down.’  They all cycle slowly within the white circle marked on the ground, if you put your foot down – you’re out.

So, here are my three boys, trying to keep six feet up.

This is so exciting! CyberMummy 2010, a conference dedicated to mum bloggers, is taking place on 3rd July in London’s Earls Court.

Put together by Susanna (amodernmother.com), Sian (mummy-tips.co.uk) and Jennifer (alphamummy.com) – this one day event will include stories, tips about content, understanding technical things like SEO and making money with your blog.

The agenda is up and they are looking for speakers, so if you’d like to take part or know someone who should, let them know.

There’s also a Crowdsourced Keynote: a collection of best posts from attendee’s blogs, read by them, taking place at the end of the day – so you can nominate your post or recommend someone else’s.

The early bird rate is only £80, a £20 discount and lasts until April 15.

Now, the sad news.  I won’t be able to go.  Not this year anyway.  With a trip to the UK planned for this spring and friends arriving for the summer, it’s not something I can add to my travel this year.  However, I will be there in spirit and hope to be reading live blogging from the event.  I’m hoping it’s well supported by other British Mummy Bloggers and will certainly make plans for 2011.  I have a feeling this event is going to grow and grow.

Good luck to Susanna, Sian and Jennifer – I hope everyone has a fantastic day.

I’m Texas bound at the end of this week for SXSW.  It’s the first time I’ve attended the conference and I’m really excited about it.  Plus, we will be child free for a few days, which makes it even more of a treat.  I’m also looking forward to exploring Austin, a city I think I’m going to love.

The first and only time I’ve visited Texas was last October.  We spent a few days in Forth Worth and found the city’s Water Gardens right outside our hotel.  A perfect spot to take two boys who’ve been cooped up inside a hotel room.

I took one particular photo at the Water Gardens which I love, I was so happy with the colours and just the sense of calm.  The leaves were beginning to change on the trees and the sun was just right, that perfect tone, right at the end of the day.

Tara from Sticky Fingers is encouraging bloggers to share photos and last week’s theme was Beauty.  I couldn’t resist the opportunity to use this photo:

This week’s theme is A Number.  Head over to Tara’s blog if you’d like to participate.

I hope Austin meets my expectations.  I’ve heard wonderful things about it.

I’ll let y’all know what I think!

The boys came home with a list of items needed for a school earthquake kit yesterday.  It’s all the normal things you would expect, non perishable food items, a juice box, things to keep them going for a few days, in case they can’t be rescued immediately.  That slightly worried me.  I’d just go and collect them, wouldn’t I?  That’s the naïve view in my head anyway.  I can even contemplate thinking about that, even though they’re only a couple of miles away, we might not be able to reach them after a major quake.

What really unnerved me was the request for a recent family photo for ‘reunification’ purposes.  My stomach sort of flip-flopped over that.  The idea of someone using a photo to try and reunite our family is horrifying.  But that, of course, is what is happening in Haiti right now.  Families split apart by the earthquake, trying to reunite.  It’s terrifying to think that we might have an earthquake similar in stature to those experienced in Haiti and Chile recently.  In fact, we’ve apparently had a lot more activity since those quakes.

I had a brief moment of thinking I should prepare an earthquake kit for home.  We came back from camping with a large container of water left over.  I popped it on the shelf in the garage and proudly thought that would be the start of our kit.  After reading a vast list of other supplies, I sort of gave up.  But we have extra water in case we need it.  The other thing I didn’t understand was why would I put all the emergency items in one spot?  What if that’s the place that gets damaged and we can’t reach it?  We’re screwed.  So, I’m going with the idea that food and water scattered around the house is a far better option.

It’s not just earthquakes that the school needs to be prepared for.  We’ve had two tsunami warnings recently, admittedly the waves were only a couple of feet high when they reached us but the warnings were enough to make the school put plans into place.   The school plans to take the children up to the second floor of a nearby building.

So, the children now have fire, earthquake and tsunami drills alongside the ‘Lock Down.’  I found out about ‘lock down’ drills last summer during a baseball game.  We were sitting in the stadium, fans screaming around us, when my son leaned into me and said ‘we’re going to have a lock down drill, in case someone wants to come in and kill us.’  To be fair, this wasn’t how the teacher had described it; this had come from the other children in the class.  But obviously it had been on my son’s mind and he chose the ideal opportunity to sit and have a quiet chat about it.   They’ve since practiced the ‘lock down’ drill, where they all hide so that the classroom looks empty.  They’ve even had a real lock down recently.  That was a fun bike ride home.  ‘Mummy, we had a real lock down today!’ I almost fell off my bike.  But, apparently someone had stolen a car and pulled over next to the school, it’s nice to know the system works.

It’s a wonder the school even has time for lessons with all this disaster preparedness; it must be exhausting keeping on top of it all.  I probably should make more of an effort on our earthquake kit at home, put some canned goods next to the water.  Oh, and a can opener might be a good thing too.

And in a spectacular display of bad parenting, when we heard there was a tsunami on its way, we took our boys down to the beach to see it.  I thought it would be educational!  My husband wrote about it on his blog.

Liberty at Target? Really? OK Target, you’ve finally got my attention.

I’m not a huge Target fan.  It’s too big, too overwhelming and I just feel completely lost when I’m there.  Plus, I end up buying a whole lot of cheap stuff that I don’t need.  It’s that ‘Holiday’ area that always gets me.  At the moment it’s Easter, last week it was Valentine’s Day.  I just can’t get by that section without the odd thing or too.

Target was somewhere I popped into now and then when I needed a birthday present for a child’s party.  Then they introduced a Boots section.  As I blogged at the time, I was so happy.  And that’s made me go in more often.  My bathroom is now full of Boots products, thanks to Target.  It’s a small thing but it’s a bit of home, which I love.

Last night, in between watching America dominate the Olympics, an advert for Liberty of London came on.  It was all lovely swirly florals, very Liberty, their classic prints whizzing across the screen.  It caught my eye immediately.  I love Liberty but have never seen it here in the States.  I was curious as to where this was going to lead.

Liberty at Target!  No way!  Apparently, coming on 14th March, Liberty clothes, home accessories and garden items will be available.  I’m assuming at fantastic Target prices too.  I’m so there!

If you’re American and haven’t heard of Liberty of London, take a look at their site.  It’s just the most beautiful shop ever.  Not only are their products amazing, their flagship store in London is just wonderful.   It’s a Grade II listed (ie very old and precious) Tudor building constructed from the timbers of two ships, it’s somewhere all visitors to London should pay a visit to.  Forget Harrods, go to Liberty instead.  By the way, I had no idea it was constructed from two ships but just did a quick search on wikipedia and found that out, fascinating!

I don’t know who the wheeler dealer person is at Target who is making these wonderful US/UK collaborations but keep it up.  I love it!  And will become a dedicated Target shopper because of it.  I will come into your massive store and get lost in your many aisles instead of giving up after aisle three, heading to the Boots section and then leaving, which is my usual behaviour.

And one hint to that person, could you have a chat to Waitrose?  If you introduce a Waitrose section to Target, I will come everyday.  I promise, without fail.  I will do all my food shopping at your store.

Waitrose at Target.  Wouldn’t that be wonderful?

Or Marks and Spencer even.

This is not just Target; this is M&S Target.

(That’s a very British reference at the end, my apologies to my American readers!)

There’s a group of people in Balboa who climb on things, hang off lamp posts, stand on cars and fences, jump on walls and railings.  This kind of behaviour would normally be frowned upon, be given a second glance and perhaps a glare.  But here, down at the beach, it’s accepted, it’s a necessity.  How else can you see and assess the surf conditions?

There’s a large, flat stretch of sand between the road and the ocean, there’s no time to waste walking down to the water’s edge. So, surfers stop their cars and climb up onto whatever is available to see what’s happening.

The ocean has various swells all along the peninsula.  There are areas with a sharp shore break and surfers want to make sure they’re surfing at the best spot for that day’s conditions.  Information is exchanged and handed on to other surfers to make sure they all know where the best swell is that day.

I always think that absolutely no work must get done on good swell days.  Surfers come running from all directions, sprinting across the sand in their wetsuits to get into the water.  At school drop-off, dads discuss swell and hurriedly kiss their children goodbye so that they can rush home and get their boards.

Maybe there’s just an understanding here.  Large swell?  I won’t be in the office for a while.  Offices must be empty when the ocean is full of surfers.

As we cycle to school in the morning, the truly dedicated surfers are returning to their cars in the car park.  Some leave large buckets of fresh water sitting on a mat at the back of their car, ready to change into work clothes.  This is a daily activity for them and they have their routine down pat.  Others leave the back of their car open, their dog sitting dutifully waiting for their master to return.  Some just sit and chat, wetsuit still on, talking swells, conditions and boards.

Then, there are the retired surfers.  A group of older guys that gather each morning, coffee and donut in hand, to watch.  They sit on a wall, huddled together, no longer able or wanting to surf but still needing that early morning connection with friends.

Me?  I have my wetsuit and my boogie board.  But I’m a fair weather surfer.  It has to be summer, the water warmer.  But I really want to join this community, I envy women picking up their boards and heading to the water.  It may be time to join in the Surf Camp this summer, but I said that last summer.  Maybe now that it’s in print, I won’t back out.

It is 10pm and my boys are still full of energy.

Today they skied for six hours.  And they didn’t just ski down runs.  They’ve discovered a liking for trees, moguls, terrain parks, anything they can find which will provide an obstacle or two.  I try and keep up but am resigned to the fact that they’re so much faster and better than me.  I’m mocked as I slowly bring up the rear.

Then they sledded for a couple of hours, dragging their sleds up hill, flying back down as we bombarded them with snowballs.  By the way, we made the snowballs with a Snowball Maker, which was a recent birthday present for my son.  It makes the most perfectly round, beautiful snowballs.  A Swedish friend of mine makes a pyramid of snowballs just by her front door and puts a candle in the middle.  It’s the most beautiful thing ever.

Once back at the hotel they wanted to get straight into the pool and swam for an hour, dive bombing, ducking under the water and dashing between the pool and Jacuzzi.

Now I can hardly keep my eyes open.  I’m exhausted, having a glass of wine and watching the Olympics.

What does it take to exhaust boys?  I don’t think it’s possible.  I don’t think we could have fitted in much more activity today.

A friend of mine suggested slipping something alcoholic in their hot chocolate.

Believe me, I’m tempted.

We visited a pawnshop in Las Vegas on Saturday.  We left our hotel and drove into a decidedly dodgy part of town.  The police had arrested someone and he sat on the curb as we drove by.  We continued on through the rough streets looking out for our destination: the Gold and Silver Pawnshop.

As we approached the shop, I have to say nervous as to what we would find, we saw a small crowd gathered in the car park.  We pulled in, parked the car and smiled at the family who had parked next to us in their minivan, their children as eager as ours to get out and explore the shop.

So why would we all be paying pilgrimage to a pawnshop?  It’s the place featured on the History Channel’s programme ‘Pawn Stars’ and my boys love it.  The articles people bring in to sell are not your average pawn shop items – documents signed by George Washington, highwaymen guns, old coins, all the items are fascinating.  Plus, you get a description of what they are and why they are important.  Pawn can be educational.

We weren’t even sure if the boys would be allowed in but the guy on the door gave us a lovely welcome and ushered us into the shop.  It wasn’t until afterwards that my husband asked me if I’d noticed the gun on his leg.  I hadn’t.  There we were with lots of other tourists wandering around, recognising everything from the television.

The boys not only love the history element to the show, but they love the negotiating.  They can spot someone who won’t haggle very well, can guess at how much the Pawn Stars will offer for an item and how much they’ll go up to.

They also love the camaraderie amongst the guys.  There’s the ‘Old Man’ who moans about everything, his son Rick who seems to be the main one in charge, his son ‘Big Hoss’ who makes mistakes and is still learning the trade.  And then there is Chumlee, the village idiot of the show.  He never gets anything right and they use him as a guinea pig for firing any old weapons that come into the shop.

We’d just missed the stars of the show, they’d disappeared off filming and my boys were so disappointed.  We left the shop and headed onto Utah where we are now staying for a few days skiing.  But guess what?  We have to drive back through Las Vegas.  The boys are already talking about making another stop at the Gold and Silver Pawnshop on the way back through.  They know this will increase their chances of seeing one of the Pawn Stars.

My boys are oblivious to the pun used in the show’s title, thankfully.  They excitedly tell people ‘we’re going to go and see the Pawn Stars.’  Yet again, my parenting skills are called into question.