For the last few weeks, BBC Radio 4 has been researching a piece on the group I belong to, the Chilterns American Women's Club. (That's something of a misnomer—we're not all women, nor are we all Americans.) The programme aired this morning. It's a pretty good piece, especially if you've ever wondered what it's like to move to another country. The ex-pat life isn't as glamorous as I sometimes make it out to be. It can be a lonely, isolating experience, especially for the spouses who don't have the built-in support of a work environment.

The two BBC producers accompanied my hiking group with their fuzzy mics and questions. You can hear me (at around the 10:00 mark) leading the group into the "lush Chiltern hills", showing off the pretty village of Latimer and the knot garden there. I also introduce the dog, my co-leader. She tried to eat the mic. Thought it was a stuffed rabbit. But at least she didn't run away, like the little terrier did. "Who's got the white terrier? Come back!"

If you want to listen, go here and click on "Listen Again".

I had this really crazy dream last night. I dreamed we had this really hot black dude for a president. I even dreamed he was on a magazine cover:

Yeah, like that'll ever happen! But sometimes dreams can be so wild. Next thing you know, I'll dream we have a hot looking woman as vice president or some crazy movie shit like that.

The Lambs of Coombe Hill.

Sounds like a horror movie, doesn't it? Coombe Hill, the highest point in the Chilterns, is where these lambs (and I think they're still technically lambs, though I'm no expert) live, with a fine view of Chequers.

As we were walking down the hill, four lambs formed a single file line on the narrow path, and the dog decided she wanted to sniff their butts. I had to hold the leash pretty tight. She's never chased sheep before, but I always keep her on the lead just in case.

I think she finally discovered the source of those tasty morsels she's been eating in the sheep pastures, and wanted a closer sniff:

The sheep descent.

Sorry this is such a poopy post. Busy day.

Dear Ms. Fey,

Please don't go away. We need you. Who else could give this the appropriate treatment?

You absolutely cannot make this up. Believe me; I've tried.

Once again, we hiked around Chequers, a place I've been to so many times they probably roll out the welcome mat when they see me coming—and see me they do. There are big cameras mounted in the front drive, since it's a Protected Site Under Section 128 of the Serious Organized Crime and Police Act of 2005.

I could do a whole photo album on my dog lying in puddles. She always plops down in the first puddle she comes to.

Fortunately, she was better behaved than on a previous visit. Click below for more photos.

The key phrase on this signpost: "Trespass on this site is a criminal offence." And no, I didn't misspell that.

Click to enlarge, and you'll see the Coombe Hill monument to the Boer War on the top of Coombe Hill. That house in the foreground is Chequers, the Prime Minister's country estate.

The entrance to Chequers is beautiful this time of year, although a couple of weeks ago would have been prime fall viewing. Last year it looked like this.

And yet another time I've blogged about Chequers. I am probably on a list of names somewhere of suspicious persons. Especially after our visit last year, when one of our hikers violated that warning not to trespass.

This time, the worst thing that happened was when my dog chased a pheasant and on the way back, decided to roll in some stink, apparently thinking that the reason she failed to sneak up on the wild bird was that she smelled too much like shampoo.

On Omaha Beach near the American cemetery in Normandy.

Nothing brings home the enormity of the sacrifices made by America's servicemen like a visit to Normandy, France, where tens of thousands lost their lives.

Walking through the American cemetery there, I was overcome by the thought of all those crosses and Jewish stars, each representing a life lost. Those men would be grandfathers, great-grandfathers today, had they not heeded a call for service to their country, to the world.

And looking again at the Jewish stars, I'm reminded of how different things could have been if so many had not been willing to fight for a cause greater than themselves.

For many, there is no one left to remember them. They will forever be a mere name on a cross, on a star, in a sea of graves. War is horrible, and should never be glorified. But today, on Veterans Day, we should take a moment to honor those heroes who never came home.

Thanks.

I had to spend extra time at the gym today. Here's why.

I'm slowly developing some upper body strength, after my bout with frozen shoulder. I actually felt my muscle today—a little hard nugget where I used to only feel bone. My left arm still lags behind my right arm, and for some of the machines I have to take the pin completely out of the weights. But I'm now up to 25 minutes, 4000 meters on the rowing machine, or one and a half cookies.

I started out at 12 minutes, 2000 meters. At this rate I am sure to qualify for the London 2012 Olympics.

British journalism celebrates Americans electing a man with a brain.

Here's a taste of how British opinion of America has changed. This clip from comedian Marcus Brigstock, when America was at "maximum crapness," is representative of the British humour-laced commentary on America, pre-Obama.

In one particularly apt comparison, he charges: "If America were the internet it would be BT Bloody Broadband." It doesn't get much worse than that.

Fast forward another election cycle, and my, how times have changed. During Wednesday's PM's question time in Parliament, all three party leaders rushed to compare themselves to Barack Obama: "I'm just like Barack Obama," intoned Gordon Brown. "No, I'm like Barack Obama!" insisted David Cameron. Not to be outdone, the Lib Dem leader shouted "I'm Barack Obama! In the flesh!" (You see why our comedians are so funny; there's so much to work with.)

On Friday, Radio 4's satirical The News Quiz started out with the American election news. One of the panelists remarked, in a voice normally reserved for taking the piss right out of politicians: "If we could be allowed to drop our tone of cynicism," he said to applause, "it's bloody marvelous he's been elected."

But satire is not completely lost. In the same program, Sandi Toksvig, commenting on the "sea change" in American politics, said "No one dared to believe Americans would put aside their prejudices and elect a president with a brain."

I'm not sure, however, that British comedians will know how to take the piss out of a black man. This weekend, one radio program left it to American's satirical website The Onion, reading its headline: "Black Man Given Nation's Worst Job."

This Crollwitzer turkey lives at Odds Farm.

Thanksgiving. Sadly, it's all about the turkey. What's a vegan to do? Adopt a turkey!

You don't have to be a vegetarian to adopt a turkey at Thanksgiving. You don't even have to be willing to give it a good home. Farm Sanctuary will do that for you.

For a mere $25 you can adopt a turkey. There are several gorgeous birds to choose from. Your turkey will live a life of ease at Farm Sanctuary, gobbling around with the other turkeys. It will never be eaten on Thanksgiving like other, less fortunate turkeys.

That's good to know, isn't it?

(Shh! Don't tell, but I've adopted two extra this year, as gift adoptions! Won't they be surprised when they find out they've got their very own turkey?)

I thought Barack Obama's election would mean rays of sunshine would infuse the world with light, even in the darkest corners of England in November. But that didn't happen.

Until today:

Let there be light!

Finally, for the first time this week, we got some sun, though it's weakened since this morning. Still, this is weather I can believe in.

Newsweek has been running some after-the-fact, behind-the-scenes stories that had been embargoed until after the election. I'm finding them fascinating.

Here's a tidbit I particularly liked:

We are the best damn supporters any campaign ever had.

Did you know you can apply for a job in the Obama administration online? Go here, and good luck!

Classy looking website, too.

Good thing they got this up and running so quickly. Cuz we got a lot of work to do. Here's the list, so far:

They left out "Raise taxes on Joe the Plumber."

Now, I'm going to spruce up my resume. I'm thinking an ambassadorship would be a nice fit for me. Andorra, maybe.

To hell with transition; let's talk fashion.

So, what did ya'll think about the Dress? I didn't like it, but I'm much more conservative in my tastes when it comes to clothing. Nor would I decorate my home with lava lamps, so that tells you something right there.

I did love the dresses the future First Daughters wore. Especially the black one. More children should wear black; it sombers them up a bit. Can't have cheerful looking children, can we?

Check out this gallery of Michelle fashion pics. I really like this H&M number (8). And the Amish look (13) would be exactly what I'd go for. On the other hand, the fist bump dress (2), which looked great on her, is problematic for us redheads, for whom fuchsia is much more suited to the garden, not the closet.

My favorite ensemble, though, was the one she wore for the acceptance speech at the Democratic convention, with the girls in matching shades. Wonder how long those girls will let their mom dress them in matching family outfits?

UPDATE: the individual links in the gallery don't work, you'll have to look at the whole thing.

I managed to refrain from crying last night, mainly because I was hosting a small party and had much on my mind as the wee hours of the morning ticked away. Plus I just don't cry in front of people.

But today, as I watched President Bush stroll into the Rose Garden and make a statement on the outcome of the election, I totally broke down in sobs when he referred to "President-elect Obama".

And then I broke down again when he talked about the Obamas walking into the White House and making history. It was a gracious statement, delivered eloquently.

I was glad I was alone, because I lost it.

"All Americans can be proud of the history that was made yesterday," he said. "They showed a watching world the vitality of America's democracy, and the strides they've made toward a more perfect union."

"President-elect Obama." Every time I hear that I just want to hug myself. It's really true, isn't it?

Today I hold my head a little higher. As an American living abroad, I've learned there are plenty of reasons to be proud of my country. Our devotion to insulation, for example. But there is also a constant sense that I need to defend America and Americans. We're not as bad as the world sees us. It's only our administration that sucks.

Yesterday, when Americans went to the polls and voted for a black man, the son of an immigrant, we proved something to the world. A couple of days ago MSNBC had an article about the unlikelihood of Europe electing a black or minority leader any time soon. It's true. Racial harmony has progressed a lot further in America than it has in Europe. I knew this, instinctively, and yesterday Americans proved me right. And I like being right.

So thank you. The world was watching, and you didn't let me down.

U.S.A.! U.S.A.! U.S.A.!

Today my daughter votes for the first time. The political wonk in me thinks, "Massachusetts isn't a swing state; one vote won't make a difference." But the mom in me is proud of her, grown-up enough to participate in the American political process that's consumed me for so long.

She's not particularly political. It was always "Mom's thing." But back in 2004 we watched Barack Obama address the Democratic convention, and she, like me, was moved.

I was also reminded yesterday of a friend, who lost her daughter recently. It would have been her first time to vote, and my friend felt another pang in an already broken heart. And I remember my mom, who used to ask me every day when I came to her nursing home: "Kathy, can we vote today?"

I've read stories of ancient, wobbly voters, descendants of slaves, who walk proudly into the voting booth and cast what may be their last vote, for a man who a few decades ago wouldn't have been allowed to vote.

And last night, I read of Barack Obama's grandmother's passing. What a bittersweet moment it must be for him, losing a dear loved one when such a longed-for moment is tantalizingly in reach.

Our country's past, with all its warts, and our country's future, doused with hope, come together today and vote, with the knowledge that together, all those votes really can change the world.

If you haven't yet seen Charles Alexander talk about what it means to participate in the political process, and how the future of our country rests in our youth, watch now.

And vote, with just a little bit of hope in your heart.

Here's my prediction: McCain can very well win—on election day tomorrow. Especially in states like New Mexico and Ohio and Georgia and North Carolina and Florida. What these states have in common is large early voting turn-out. Obama has that nailed; no doubt about it. In fact, nationwide, he's leading early voters by nineteen points.

There was never any doubt that Obama supporters would vote early, nor that they're highly enthusiastic.

But what I always struggle to remember is that enthusiastic voters only get one vote, the exact same as unenthusiastic voters.

As these early voters become likely voters by definition, polls reflect Obama winning by margins that might not hold on election day.

This doesn't mean he's going to lose. Not by a long shot. Polls that estimate the percentage of early voters—CBS/NYT has them as one in five—are based on best guesses of what the final turnout will be. I've seen estimates that turnout will be 64%. But no one has any idea how many people will actually leave their home and vote on election day.

Here's where it gets nail-bitingly interesting: There are a couple of states that don't have early voting, and those are states Obama is counting on to win: Pennsylvania and Virginia. Obama's numbers have tightened in both states recently. And during the primaries, Obama's ground game in Pennsylvania fell flat.

Will his too-close-for-comfort leads in both states evaporate on election day? I doubt it. But there's been a barrage of negative advertisements in both states, including the Rev. Wright ads. That will undoubtedly peel off Obama's soft support. Fortunately, Obama doesn't have too much soft support. He is, pardon the expression, the Cialis candidate. McCain, on the other hand, needs to worry. His support is like jello. Lime green jello. No wonder he put the pretty Palin on the ticket to try to juice up his base.

In 2000, it was Florida, Florida, Florida. In 2004, Ohio, Ohio, Ohio was the mantra. This year, it's turnout, turnout, turnout. And I think it's very likely we'll see record turnout, which means Obama wins.

If not—if long lines scare off new voters who've lived this long without voting just fine, thank you—a hoped-for Obama landslide may end up being a squeaker. Colorado and New Mexico and Iowa and the Kerry blue states will put him over 270, but just barely.

My best-guess, hope-filled prediction? Obama ends up with those states, plus Nevada, Virginia, Florida, North Carolina, and Indiana. And we'll throw in Montana and North Dakota for good measure—ND has same day registration, and a good ground game could pay off.

That gets us to—350. Nice, round number.

Oh, but I forgot that one CD in Nebraska—let's give that to Obama, because I love stealing red votes.

If things go really well, Obama will pick up Missouri—a state that always votes with the winner, so I'm saving room for dessert. As for Ohio, well, I hold little hope they will revert from Purgatory any time soon.

So there you have it. My champagne, a bottle of Moët & Chandon we've held onto since Christmas, is chilled.

Apparently The Boss—Bruce Springsteen—is in Ohio with Barack Obama. He went to Cleveland for Kerry in '04, and we all know what happened then.

I've never dug Springsteen, but apparently he holds great appeal among my people.

If Ohio puts Obama over the top at 12:30 GMT on election night, I may possibly forgive that state for the anguish it has caused me.

Because the night belongs to us.

Damn right.

Last night...

On the platform at Paddington, we heard two young men discussing Sarah Palin. One asked the other if he'd seen the SNL skits (yeah, he referred to it as SNL, just like Americans do) and he replied, "You can't take the piss out of someone who's already so awful."

And when my ticket didn't open the turnstile (I'd used the wrong one) the attendent glanced at my Obama button, and waved me through.

We went to Putney Arts Theatre to see The Importance of Being Earnest. It was really good (hard to screw up Oscar Wilde, isn't it?) but the guy who played Earnest, who happens to be my husband's co-worker, put in an especially great performance. Kudos to Stuart, who from now on shall be called Earnest.

On the way home we saw people dressed up for Halloween, but not that many. Lots more who were just ordinary drunks.

Via Marc Ambinder, this classic FAIL from the McCain campaign, from their latest ad.

Hopefully, McCain will get the votes of everbody with this ad. while Obama gets the votes of everybody else.

If like me, you were asleep last night for the big Obama infomercial, here it is. Just like in the rest of the campaign, he puts the focus on us, not him.

Here's a question for you:

Would a white guy have generated the enthusiasm that Barack Obama has?

Let's say there was a white guy with a similar background and resume to Obama. His father left—Romania, say—to come to Hawaii and marry his teenaged mother. He gave his son a funny name—let's call him Baravky. Little Baravky, raised by a single mother after his father returned to Romania, later moved to Indonesia where he attended Catholic schools. His mother woke him up at 4 a.m. to teach him American history and English, and he eventually returned to Hawaii to attend a prestigious private school on scholarship.

Fast forward a few years, and he's the first—Romanian?—president of Harvard Law Review, after having worked on Chicago's South Side organizing out-of-work Romanians and other poor ethnic peoples.

He writes a book, detailing the angst he's suffered as the son of a poor Romanian immigrant. His descriptions of his father's post-Communist Romania are very moving.

Baravky woos and marries a beautiful tall ethnic woman, who is also a graduate of Harvard. He runs for state senate, and everyone who meets him is impressed by his prodigious abilities and his charisma. "This man will be President one day," savvy Chicagoans proclaim. They also think he speaks English very well for a guy named Baravky Osmochescu.

He plays pick-up basketball, occasionally sinking a three-pointer. A handsome, skinny guy, he is perceived as cool by young people, some of whom have actually read his book.

With a strong wind at his back, and some hapless opponents, he runs for, and wins, a seat in the U.S. Senate. Meanwhile he gives a stirring speech at the Democratic Convention, tossing in a joke about his unusual name. "Only in America could a guy named Baravky be where I am!" We are all impressed, and more people start to think that this young man could one day be president. Maybe after Kerry has a turn.

He opens a Facebook account. He is sworn in to the Senate, with his lovely wife and young daughters at his side. He writes another book, and millions of people google the word "audacity".

Four years after that convention speech, would Baravky send thrills up Chris Mathew's leg? Would he symbolize "hope over fear"? Would he "rekindle the sense of possibility and transformation" in America?

I'm not sure, but I think he would. I think resume transcends race. Not to downplay the role race has played, but I do think America was ready for a new face. And a new, more lyrical name. Plus that "O" rising sun logo is really good.

What do you think?

Or woman, rather.

My dog has a weird habit. She likes to hold the lead in her mouth, but only for the second half of our walks. For the first half she's content to run along sniffing, either on or off lead, but when we come to the final leg of our circular walk, she grabs the lead between her teeth and gently tugs me along.

Today the lead was still attached to my waist, as we were in the Common and she was off-lead, but knowing we were going to turn soon for our street, she insisted on holding on to the lead at my waist.

I'm not sure if it's bossiness, or just her oral fixation.

Here she is looking to see if there's any chestnuts under her favorite tree in the Common:

Looks like the damn squirrel got them all.

This fascinating article in New York Magazine by John Heilemann gets to a point I've been circling around, but never quite reached, in my own musings over Barack Obama and his candidacy and potential presidency. It's a long article, and this nugget comes on page 5:

Obama an Independent? Sure, why not? That, perhaps, is the root of his appeal for so many Republicans, I suspect. And the source of concern for so many Democrats who instinctively jumped on the Hillary Clinton bandwagon, a phenomenon I never quite understood. (I did try to address the misunderstanding here, though.)

The whole article is fascinating, especially if, like me, you're wondering what an Obama presidency will look and smell like. My biggest fear, all along, at the prospect of Democrats winning back the White House is the Clinton Spectre: the chaos, the partisanship, the non-stop defense we were forced to play. I don't see that, especially after reading this article, in a No-Drama Obama administration.

There's another nugget in here, toward the end, that reflects my belief, held since reading George Lakoff's Moral Politics, that the whole concept of a left-right political spectrum is just bogus. I see politics as two huge overlapping circles, not some sort of fixed line where a person's political persuasion is artificially embedded in between two opposite poles. Here's Heilemann :

From as far back as his days at Harvard, where I first ran across Obama, his bedrock political orientation—centrist? Liberal? Neoliberal? What?—has remained opaque. The evidence, much of it on display during this campaign, points in all directions. His Senate voting record: traditionally liberal. His temperament: technocratically pragmatic. His rhetoric: somehow centrist.

There's another word that's gone out of vogue recently, but that's "framing". Obama does it instinctively and gracefully, unlike its advocate George Lakoff (hence the concept's lack of vogue-ness). In a nutshell, it's the ability to appeal to the other side—or those in the other circle—by making your arguments in a way that reflects the core beliefs of the other side. Quick example: Obama's repeated references to personal responsibility in his stump speeches, his telling parents to turn off the TV if they want to improve their child's education, since government can't do that for them. Sounds like something Reagan would say, and be pilloried for by his opponents, but that actually isn't a bad idea—as long as there's government spending on early childhood education programs to help once parents have turned off the tube. 

In other words, liberal—or conservative—programs aren't so bad. It's all in how they're presented. Up to now, Democrats have done a lousy job presenting their side of the argument. There's a reason Obama's team is reading up on FDR, the last president who managed to sell a liberal agenda to a grateful nation. (It could also be argued that Obama's agenda is hardly liberal, in the FDR sense of the word—top tax rates equal to the Clinton 39% rates are hardly the FDR—or even the Eisenhower—soak-the-rich 90% top rates.)

The whole article's worth a read, especially for political junkies who are really wondering what sort of course Obama may steer through his potential first four years, during what looks to be a political realignment. It gives, pardon the expression, some meat to the idea of realignment, that I found easy to swallow.

A model of St. Sernin Basilica in Toulouse.

While in Toulouse recently, I spent a lot of time in church. In fact, since moving to Europe I've spent more time in churches than I have since I was a three-times-a-week Christian in my youth.

Toulouse has an especially rich ecclesiastical history. I'm not a biblical scholar, and plus I wouldn't want to bore my readers with which pope did what to which pope, so I'll skip that, and just show you all the pretty pictures.

My first stop was to the St Sernin Basilica. It's a Romanesque church, which means it was built around the 11th century. (Here we refer to that period as "Norman" and we have "Norman churches". No "esque".)

St Sernin is a massive building, with a wedding-cake bell tower on one end. Inside, there's a barrel vaulted nave and a crypt with the remains of saints. Interesting fact: Simon de Montfort was killed here during the siege of Toulouse by a stone dropped from the roof. I saw a few broken plates that had been dropped from a window, possibly during a re-enactment.

The next day I decided to check out the cathedral, Cathédrale Saint-Étienne. Unlike the basilica, it's a working cathedral. The architecture is irregular, a bemusing mixture of periods and styles. It's a little bit Gothic, a little bit Romanesque. The stained glass is mostly 19th century, but the faded tapestries are from the early 17th century. 

In the afternoon I took a boat ride up the Canal du Midi, which is lined with sycamore trees. From the boat we could see the beautiful buildings across the River Garonne, including the Hôtel Dieu Saint-Jacques with its cross-shaped windows.

The Cloisters of des Jacobins

I saved the best for last, however: the Couvent des Jacobins. It's a massive brick building, its walls guarded by gargoyles. Inside is a cavernous nave, with tall pillars and delicate palm-shaped vaulting. While there I ran into St Thomas Aquinas, who was resting peacefully.

Then I slipped out a back door, into the cloisters. The sound of a choir greeted me. Not sure if I was supposed to be there, and prepared to make my excuses in broken French, I walked around the cloisters to the sound of the choir. Perhaps they were practicing and wouldn't mind an audience. I entered the chapel where the sound was coming from, only to find a bright orange barrier. Tentatively, I walked to one side, and was greeted by an amazing sight: banks of speakers, in groups of five, spilling out the most gorgeous sounds. In the middle were benches, with people sitting quietly, reverently.

It was, perhaps, the most awe-inspiring moment of my life. Brought to you by Bose.

For more photos, go here.

This two-minute ad for Obama is aimed at explaining his policies and plans for the economy, and does a very good job at that. But as I was watching, I couldn't help thinking, "My, he's got some big ears."

I sympathize with the difficulties of county clerks' employees as they try to weed out the Harry Potters, Mickey Mouses, and Ima Hoggs from legitimate registered voters with similar names.

But here's a cautionary tale:

During my university years I worked on the yearbook staff, and as a lowly freshman, was assigned to Index duty. We'd often come across plainly nonsense names: Ima Hogg, U.R. Stupid, Luke Skywalker (the 1980s version of Harry Potter), etc. Usually I'd ask an editor before deleting the name from the index, which meant whichever smart alec had signed up as that person (usually in a group photo) wasn't listed in the index.

One day I came across "B.A. Flake", obviously a hoax name, I figured, and being in a particularly impatient mood, I scratched it off the list.

Flash forward a few years: I am now Mrs. B. A. Flake. My husband, should he ever achieve notoriety, will be untraceable in his college yearbook.

We passed this mama cow and her baby on the mountain road to Ordino in Andorra, one week ago.

You can see in the background one of the many houses that had been built out on the edge of the mountainsides of Andorra. Many were undergoing construction—Andorra so far hasn't been hit by the housing crisis, apparently.

These cows had a nice view:

This was in the higher elevations of the Pyrenees, as you can see from the shrinking tree line.

There is one charge that has dogged Barack Obama since he first announced he was running for president, and that's his lack of experience in Washington. I obviously don't think too much of experience, per se, as a determining qualification for president—fortunately, voters who chose Abraham Lincoln and FDR didn't either, since they were two of the most inexperienced presidents we've had.

Far more important, in my estimation, are temperament, character, and values. Would a candidate prefer to avoid war, or rush into it? Would a candidate calmly negotiate with a foreign leader who possesed nuclear weapons, or would he or she rant and rave? Would a candidate insist that the lowliest among us deserve help, or leave residents of a flooded city to fend for themselves?

But there are people genuinely concerned about the lack of Barack Obama's experience, who perhaps can't or won't vote for him because of it. In Time magazine, Joe Klein interviews Barack Obama, and those around him, and concludes that Obama has something much more important than sheer years of experience: maturity.

Read the whole article. It starts with a telling anecdote from Obama's visit to Iraq:

Leadership. Maturity. Intellect. Three qualities I want my next president to possess, above all.

We can find plenty of candidates with experience: How about Dick Cheney, or Al Gore? Neither one of them would have had the leadership and maturity to handle the situation with Patraeus in that way.

If you haven't yet read this article by Cass Sunstein at the University of Chicago, a colleague of Barack Obama, you should. And if you haven't read Obama's own book, The Audacity of Hope, and you insist on thinking that Obama is not equipped to lead this nation, then you owe it to yourself to read it before you vote on November 4.