'So how's the job hunt going...'

I get asked this a lot. I think it's a polite way of saying 'So what do you actually DO all day, you lazy cow?' but the subtext may me mine, rather than the questioners. 

The job situation has been an interesting one- source of continual frustration and panic and dull acceptance followed by calm enjoyment, then back to the start with a welling feeling of frustration etc etc. For a long time I didn't have a social security number and was not allowed to legally work in the US. I started to look at volunteering but I was pregnant and miserable then not pregnant and not really up to it then it was christmas and I had my work permit... You get the picture. It never happened.

Part of my issue seemed to be a total loss of confidence. My nursing degree is not valid here, and I could do classes to make it valid but it would be expensive. Given that we've not decided how long we are going to be here, it seems a bit imprudent to spend a lot of time and money on changing my degree over. The question then became 'What do I want to do instead?' This has no easy answer. I am essentially unqualified to do anything in a care-related position. California has certifications and regulations for EVERYTHING, all centrally controlled and all extremely unwelcome to foreign degree-holders. To the point it makes me cry hot, angry tears at times. I KNOW I am a good care-worker, and yet I'm not able to do it. 

An admin type job seemed like a good plan, but I've not got very far with that either. Lots of applications, not much response. After a while, you start to doubt if you were ever any good at anything and you should probably just stay in with the cat so you don't bother anyone. More logically, there are a couple of reasons I can think of for this- my CV is kind of all over the place, with my admin days squashed in the middle of lots of childcare jobs, but I do think not having any American work experience or references is a sizeable negative factor. 

Even the nicest Americans you meet* are still convinced everything is (slightly) better here. It's ingrained into them, a doctrine from infancy that *this* is the greatest country in the world, everywhere else is like an irritating sibling or poor cousin- trying hard, but never quite cool enough. Generally it doesn't come up very often, but when it does, it drives me nuts. It's upsetting if I think about the hours I spent on the wards holding sick bowls, suctioning snot or scrubbed in during surgery, or the teeth-rattling headbutts and hard-fought feeding battles as a support worker that are discounted for taking place in the wrong continent. I need to prove that I am up to the challenge of being with real live Americans all the time. Since no one wants to hire me to do this, it'll have to be proven through volunteering. 

This is not necessarily a bad thing. I do find some Americans challenging to deal with at times.This sounds terrible, and obviously you cannot lump an entire continent of individuals together, but people here are loud and insistent. They have a sense of entitlement that can be jarring to my inherent Britishness. They show a great deal of enthusiasm for everything. I find it needy and insincere. I'm not sure of the sincerity, I can't quite work it out. People have assured me that it is sincere enthusiasm, but I cannot quite bring myself to believe it. 

I am quieter here, less likely to wish to be the centre of attention ('NEVER' I hear you shout, horrified.) I am more reluctant to initiate conversation, less likely to join in and venture an opinion. I can't really explain why. I sometimes wonder if my desire to be the opposite of the loud, enthusiastic voices means I'm having less fun than I otherwise could, but c'est la vie. 

I set out to answer the 'what do you do all day' question, and have succeeded in only explaining why the answer is not 'earn lots of pennies'. I'm finally volunteering most days of the week. I talked a bit about Baby to Baby before, but I'm going to be branching out from beyond the yummy mummy coffee morning, giving them my Friday to organise clothes and hang out with the interns, none of whom have two nannies for one child. 

I have also (finally) completed everything that needed to be done to volunteer at the UCLA hospital, which was no mean feat, and involved approximately 80 vials of blood, a week of phone calls and general grumpiness by all involved. I should start next week. It involves some seriously early starts, but I'm looking forward to it. The best I can work it out is that US hospitals use those who want to go to med school to do all the jobs student nurses manage in between learning/making beds/doing obs (or vitals, as they call them here). Given that I'm not trying to earn myself a letter of recommendation or boost an application, and the fact I am well versed in dealing with unpleasant people, I've been recruited to the least glossy volunteering position: the surgical waiting area. This basically involves corralling unruly relatives who are waiting for their brother/mum/cousin to have their kidney transplant and are labouring under the, quite frankly absurd, illusion that the surgeon will come and speak to them when it's over. 

As this is America, they family members believe, quite rightly if we're honest, that they are entitled to an explanation from the surgeon. As anyone who has ever worked with surgeons will know, this is optimistic to the point of foolishness. I will be the one who has to tell people that the surgeon has now gone for sushi/is straight back in the OR (MUST remember not to say 'in theatre'- means something very different here...) and will not be offering them a blow-by-blow account. If I do happen to get a nice surgeon who comes to speak to the family, I will have to explain to him or her that the family has gone for coffee. It will be challenging, intense and slightly mental. I cannot wait. 

I am particularly good at dealing with grumpy families. Once, after a lady had complained at me for 20 minutes about how much she disagreed with me, I accidentally poured a jug of water over her. Another time an irritated mum told me I was 'cutting corners' administering her sons inhaler in front of my mentor (I was, he was kicking me in the face. She was apologising to him for my 'mean-ness'). I made up some shite about not upsetting him too much and finding a balance between following procedure and doing what was best for his emotional well being. My mentor told me that was the moment she knew I'd make a great nurse.

So that will be my new activities. Sorting designer baby clothes and having pagers thrown at my head. Very much looking forward to it.

*Not my friend Hillary though. This is the main reason she is my friend.

A catch up, or how I *almost* met Jessica Alba

The cat has burned all her eyebrow whiskers off on one side. She stuck her face in a candle, as cats are prone to doing. They went all curly and frazzled like back in the olden days when we used to use curling tongs. Then the next day they were gone. This inspired me to hoover more often.

We went to my one LA friends house to watch the Superbowl. It went on a bit. I quite like American Football now, but the game was dull until the fourth quarter. We were all cheering on the 49ers for a wide variety of reasons. None of them involving living in California. We also all agreed the Colin Kaepernik is a bit of a douche. I drank three beers and sang loudly along with Beyonce. My friend didn't mind. I think she is a keeper.

I developed a stinking cold on the day of the Superbowl. I got ID'd trying to buy some NightNurse. I have long suspected I have a cough-syrup allergy, and I was proved right. I haven't been that sick since we all got Ruairidh's stomach bug on the day of the Royal Wedding. I thought I had the flu, but the next, NightNurse free day I felt fine. Moral of the story- if you suspect you are allergic to something, don't take it. Especially after three beers.

I finally arranged to do some volunteering. I read about the charity on Girls Gone Child, but when I got there I was too embarrassed to say that's where I found it so I lied and said I heard about it googling 'volunteer opportunities' and now I feel guilty because everyone thinks their intern is doing a better job than she actually is at improving their web presence. They do not need to work on improving their OK magazine presence- turns out its a super trendy 'young hollywood mom-beverly hills socialite' charity. Last week Jessica Alba was there. Maybe she'll be there next time...

The charity gives baby clothes, nappies and other essentials to social workers to pass on to mums in need. I'm not sure the mums care that the baby wipes are organic, the swaddling blankets anais+aden or that the stroller is a Bugaboo, but that's what is donated. Yesterday I was putting together gift packages to go to families in crisis. It was like shopping for all the baby things I will never be able to afford. I loved it.

I have been sewing up a storm recently. And I'm getting better at it. I've taken a ton of pictures but most of them are gifts for people, so I can't put them up yet.

I was in the gym today, running along, huffing and puffing and looking like a beetroot whilst the most irritating boy ever was lifting weights and acting like a posing douchebag. When I finished on the treadmill I could hear that he was listening to Taylor Swift on his headphones. I snorted out loud. Not that there is anything wrong with Taylor Swift. Just him.

Happy New Year (finally...)

Every time I think I've experienced the strangest thing California has to offer, something appears to surprise me. This time, it was being the last large population to experience New Year. The time-difference is a perpetual source of irritation to us and our families- it's particularly tough with our 6 year old niece and 3 year old nephew- by the time we get up it is bed time for them. Arranging phone calls and skype dates is seriously tough. 

Sunset at the South Bay. My first ever Whale spotting.

When it comes to New Year, it adds a new level of weird. It hit New Year in Scotland at 4pm our time. It was awesome. I got lots of texts and messages from friends and family. My brother phoned me, somewhat worse for wear, to hear the fireworks in Edinburgh (this meant I couldn't hear a word he said, but the thought was appreciated!) We had a big skype chat with our friends who were having a party. The down side started about 6pm, however, when we were still 6 hours away from the bells here and were all New Year'd out. We've both been battling some sort of cold/flu bug. We watched some of a Star Wars marathon, a few episodes of Family Guy, an episode of Lewis on Amazon Prime and then we went to bed. I heard our neighbours shouting 'Happy New Year' with tooting horns shortly after brushing my teeth, whilst I was having a pee. There was fireworks that caused the cat to have a nightmare of a night, scratching down our bedroom door to get in. We were cuddled up in our duvet for the coldest night since 1973, safe from parties and entertainment.

2012 was a mental year for both of us. We argued the most we have EVER on the 1st of January, stress finally getting to us. I officially moved into our Edinburgh flat that day- the first of 5 moves I made in 2012. I am FED UP of moving house. We got married on the 7th of January. Husband went to Holland for a week on the 13th, I was back on night shift the same time. By the end of February I was in North Carolina for 2 weeks, April we came to LA for a week to decide if we wanted to move out here. By May we knew we would, and started the process of emigrating. This co-incided perfectly with the start of my management placement, or the last three months of my degree where my competence is decided. We moved out of our house in July, Husband moved to California and I stayed with my brother's wonderful girlfriend. I finished my degree with a bang (or rather, being first on the scene of a ward emergency, the first time in my whole degree that ever happened to me). I went home for a week, sat my last ever exam then flew half way around the world. We moved into our apartment in September, discovered I was pregnant in October, and then miscarried in November. December has been Joan, Christmas and recovery. 

Griffith Park and Christmas sunglasses (white blob in the background is the Hollywood sign)

I would argue this is TOO MANY things for one year. Just too many. I would like 2013 to be quieter, calmer and more settled. When it comes to resolutions, I have made a few, none of them too radical. Firstly, I resolve not to move house. Not even once. Last week we extended our lease by a year. This means that in 2013 I will not move house at all. I am so excited about this. 

I would like to improve my cooking, something I made some serious headway on at Christmas alone, but last week I made the best mac and cheese I've ever eaten (yeah mum, I went there. Sorry, I out-did you.) I am going to continue to make interesting yummy things instead of super noodles (or Ramen, as they are known here.) 

I would like to get better at sewing. Thanks to a sudden increase in time, I have made everything from baby blankets as gifts to sewing my own cushions for the living room. I have a ton of fabric and spent some Christmas money on a rotary cutter to make my edges sharper and I can't wait to get started. 

In direct opposition to having lots of time to sew,I would like to get myself a job. I FINALLY have a social security number and authorisation to work, so the search starts in earnest as of tomorrow, when husband goes back to work. 

Santa Monica Pier at Sunset

Finally, I want to take more pictures. Almost all the pictures I put on this blog are husband's. He is so good at making sure we have the camera, getting it out and documenting the cool things we get to see whilst we're here. I should really get better at it too. 

Any resolutions? I would love to hear how you are going to make 2013 a good year. And if your resolution is to travel more, our sofa is always free!

Christmas cheer

The staggeringly obnoxious tree  at Universal Studios

It is finally feeling like Christmas in Los Angeles. There are so many reasons for this, but the main one is that it is actually pretty cold. Like, normal person cold, not 'cold for here'. The weatherman (who is called Dallas Raines. I wish I were kidding.) is treating this like a sign of the apocalypse, but I've watched enough crappy TV to know that it always 'surprise snows' in LA at Christmas.

This is the first Christmas in 3 years I've not had exams/wedding/work/mind-blowing stress in the lead up to the holidays. I do have a cat that is CHOKED with the cold, and an extremely reluctant taker of her prescribed antibiotics, so I would hardly say life is dull, but I am enjoying the more laid-back approach. Especially compared to last year, which involved an examiner telling me 'your patient is dead, you need to fix it...', an experience I don't care to repeat.

I'm learning, particularly living in the area I do, to say 'Happy Holidays' to people instead of Merry Christmas. I can hear some of you (*coughCHRIScough*) saying something about 'PC gone mad' but the reality is that there is a really significant Jewish population in West LA, and I want to be respectful to others' cultures. I've learnt more about Channukah in the last few weeks than in my life up til now. It's so interesting living somewhere so multi-cultural. I always thought of Edinburgh as multi-cultural, but it makes me laugh now. I am frequently the only white face in a shop, with people from every corner of the world gathering in LA. This week alone in our church they have had the feast of Our Lady of Guadalupe (compete with Tamales and hot chocolate) and a Phillipino feast on Friday, which comes with a spit-roast pig in the car park. It's fascinating, and makes me excited about the possibility of bringing up our kids here. The world seems both big and small in LA, with exposure to so many different, interesting things.

Stockings!!

 Since I love making things, I decided to undertake Christmas Stockings for husband and I this year. They were the hardest thing I've ever made (including my arsenal of skirts and quilts) but I persevered and learnt lots of new sewing techniques (this is quite boring if you don't sew, but I am feeling pretty smug.) They are FAR from perfect, but I think they will last for a very long time. I also made one of husband's Christmas presents. He is pretty snack-centric, so I made these. I don't like nuts, so I only tried the flavouring, but they were so good. Super spicy but pleasantly sweet too. I gave them to him straight away, since I wasn't sure how long they'd last. They seem to have gone down well and were so easy to make. I'd definitely recommend them!

Hope you are getting into the Christmas spirit!

Christmas in LA

our christmas tree. (and hideous, yet essential air conditioning unit)

First of all, thank you all so much for the comments, emails, messages, tweets and general loveliness following my crappy week. I felt loved, supported and generally marvellous, and I appreciate it so much. I feel SO much better this week. I have been banned from many of my favourite activities (it has been 9 weeks since I was in our hot tub. The situation is critical) and been on fairly strict 'just rest for heaven's sake' instructions, which thankfully all end on Friday. I'm going to swim, hot tub, drink champagne and go for a run. Probably not in that order.

Now it's time to talk about Christmas. Or rather, how the hell do you get all Christmas-sy in the least Christmas-sy city ever? Important question. With that I present to you- 

Lorna's Top 5 Christmas Spirit-Inducing Activities (and the ways I am unable to participate in them here...)

5. The best christmas jumper I've ever seen. It cost £19 from H&M. It is the perfect amount of Christmas snowflakes whilst also nice enough to wear around and not feel like you are going to a 'bad christmas jumper' party. I wear it from November to February. Unfortunately, this jumper is totally useless when the temperature is in the 20s, like it is today. Anyone have any good ideas for Christmas t-shirts?

4. Christmas shopping. I'll be honest, I don't really like Christmas shopping that much. I find it a bit stressful. Generally I am flat broke and can't really afford presents anyways. BUT, I have developed a system whereby I can get all my presents on one trip to Princes Street, with maybe the odd Amazon purchase on top of it. I love coming home with lots of bags, knowing I have done my best to get people nice things they'll like within a super tight budget.

The shipping costs are SO crazy here that unfortunately I will be buying things on Amazon and just having them delivered to people instead. This is problematic for a number of reasons. Firstly, I LOVE a good boycott (looking squarely at you, Chik-fil-A.) Whilst everyone else at home is ditching tax-avoiding scurge Amazon, I don't really have a choice. Secondly, you can only really do online shopping if you know what you want to get people. I don't have a clue. This means I will have to wander round the shops for ideas and then come home and order them online. Which is, quite frankly, the worst of both worlds.

3. Writing Christmas cards with mulled wine and 'Love Actually'. I have 2 copies of Love Actually. Both are currently in my parents' attic. It's not been on TV here yet. Also, due to ridiculous cost of postage, I only sent 16 christmas cards. I wrote and sent them last week to make sure they got there on time. This means there was no good Christmas TV on, instead I wrote them whilst watching a 'Monster Inside Me' marathon, which is about people with gross parasites.

2. The German Market for Gluhwein, Bratkartofflen and unsuccessful pleas for me to get husband on fair-ground rides with me. The closest we will make it this year is to The Grove, which pumps fake snow into the ENTIRE mall at 7pm and 8pm every night. The fake snow is actually fairy liquid bubbles. It is RIDICULOUS. The 'dumb californians' love it. (True story- I went with my friend Hilary to see it, and the girl behind us said: "OMG the dumb Californians will be totally excited by this- they've probably never even seen snow. Wait, I haven't seen snow. I'm a dumb Californian...")

1. Watching 'A Muppet Christmas Carol' in my jammies with a bottle of red wine, my noisy siblings and even noisier parents on Christmas eve having just munched a curry. This will be a family-less Christmas. In some ways, this is a good thing. Husband and I are going to navigate our own Christmas traditions this year. It will certainly still involve 'A Muppet Christmas Carol' and lots of red wine at some point, but it will be quieter, with no one else singing along to the songs. There also won't be any curry, since you cannot get a decent Curry any further west than Glasgow. I'm not sad about our small-scale Christmas. In fact, I'm actually quite excited by it. Not that I won't miss being woken up at 2am to my mum singing 'Karma Chameleon' at the top of her lungs or 13 of us squeezing round the dinner table or shouty pub quiz questions where my dad beats everyone. Again. But I am excited to make our own mark. 

Next time- a list of Christmas activities you CAN undertake in 20 degree heat. Irrelevant to many, but exciting none-the-less...

The old college try...

The start of this story goes that I am still somewhat under the weather. I have a GP appointment using our seriously swanky health insurance tomorrow. When you don't feel 100%, the thought of driving to Pasadena for an american football game doesn't really appeal. 

We went and it was fun. Up til now, my experiences of american sports have been baseball-based. I love the baseball. I love going to a Dodgers game and seeing the ordinary people who live in LA, not the plastic, orange people or the students who take themselves too seriously (I'm looking at you, UCLA Law. Every single one of you I've encountered is kind of a douche.) Instead, it's the working class, people who do everyday jobs in an everyday manner. The baseball is a friendly, funny crowd who don't take anything too seriously. You drink a beer and eat hot dogs and shout at the umpires. There are always hundreds of children in the crowd, little girls with blue ribbons in their hair and boys who run around with oversized mitts on their hands.

Dodgers v Rockies, September 2012

The football was nothing like this. The Rose Bowl, where UCLA play, is 45 minutes (on a good day) away from the campus. You are expected to drive in the afternoon, 'tailgate' (eat BBQ and drink) until the game starts at night. The car park was a golf course. A golf course covered in broken glass and burnt patches by the time we arrived at 7pm. We missed the first touchdown walking from the 18th hole back to the stadium- it was so far away. I was tired by the time we got there. Everyone was WASTED. I don't think I can overstate this enough. There were pools of vomit all around the stadium. Automatically this felt more like home- as any Edinburgh resident can attest to, it's not really Sunday morning unless you're dodging vomit puddles. People screamed and shouted. Middle aged men with battered baseball caps high-fived one another, made mad hand actions and downed more beers. It was brilliant. The Arizona fans shouted and sang and argued with the UCLA fans that surrounded them in some drunken, good natured banter.

The RoseBowl. Image courtesy of husband's instagram

Then it was half time and I was cold and tired and not feeling very good. UCLA were winning by miles. We watched the marching band and flag girls and cheerleaders perform their half-time show for a little while then started the half hour hike back to the car. I'd go back, but I'll definitely need a beer or four.

tastes like home...

This weekend has been a bit of a washout. Thankfully I had a lot of fun at the start thanks to skyping my whole class at their grad ball, which was nuts but lovely and made me feel so special and loved (thanks girls)

my gorgeous girls rebecca and jenny. pic taken by the lovely sandy

Husband and I went out a few times for drinks to celebrate my graduating and being an actual, official, Bachelor of Nursing (Child Health) with distinction, but I was a little sad I missed graduation and the ball. 

We also got to skype the bulk of our group of friends who were  having a weekend together in London. It was hilarious and heartbreaking in equal measure. The homesickness was a big crashing wave that left a flood in it's wake. We bobbed along in it for most of the afternoon. I missed laughing like that. I missed hearing the stories, feeling absolutely comfortable with those around me. They swore too much, were all drunk and I realised how sensible and quiet out lives are here. I want to curse like a sailor and drink gin and gossip about people we know. 

Perfect afternoon with friends- Connect music festival, 2007.

I've been surprised how easy it's been to mostly hang out with husband. We have really good fun together. But I miss the drunken chat. The screaching laughter. The shouting at one another and debating politics and life and everything else. I miss having a group of friends we both just slot in to, no effort required. An old friend of husband's from his uni days is arriving for 36 hours on Thursday. I can't wait.

I've been ill since Saturday. I have the cold and have been super nauseous with it (not that unusual for me). I've been pathetic and napped a lot and been struggling to eat much. I got some amazing chicken noodle soup for lunch which husband decreed 'tasted like home'. We debated for ages what exactly about the soup tasted like home, and we decided it was the cooked carrots. Cooked carrots taste like home. There's a sentence I never thought I'd say.

lazy weekend LA style...

As the title suggests, this weekend was a lazy one. Husband had a really long work-week, and we've travelled a whole lot the last few weeks. Saturday we went to the local mall. The local mall is just a boring, bog-standard mall. I love it because it makes me feel like a local. There is not a tourist in sight. We wandered around and bought a few things and I obsessed over the doggies the local shelter brings to a shop in the centre. We're not allowed a dog according to our landlord, but I want one rather desperately. I fell in love with an 8-year-old Australian Cattledog called Murphy. Unfortunately I had to leave him there. Horrible.

I finally drove on the road. It was terrifying and a bit exciting and I only ran through one stop sign, which I'm taking as a victory. Husband is actually a very good teacher. I'm trying to be a good student, even though I want to have a big strop when he criticises me, since he's actually trying to ensure I don't kill us both. I probably won't, but only time will tell...

We also discovered something of an LA institution- the Farmer's Market at The Grove. It's been running since 1934, so we're hardly the first people to go, but I had the best brazillian BBQ, wandered around the petting zoo and cow lasso-ing areas set up for their fall festival and watched a rather terrifying scarecrow try to convince people to enter the pie eating contest. It's probably best to let the people of the LA County Fair explain why events like this are important in this city... 

Personally I think the slur on Blondes in the uploader's title is a little unfair. Brunettes in LA can also be this... rurally challenged.

There are, alas, no pictures of this since I left the memory card of our camera IN my computer, but we had a gorgeous afternoon. The weather was starting to cool a bit, so being outside was pleasant. Not to worry though, temperature's to be back up in the 30s for this weekend...