London photos are finally up.

I love this one. And this. And this.

But nothing meant more to me than this.

I don't recommend: Jerry Springer, The Opera. I do recommend: Meeting Kelly's boyfriend Jerry for drinks at a bizarre Turkish restaurant 6,000 miles from home.

We didn't sleep much, but it was worth it.

So I'm flying east tonight to keep my mom company by my grandmother's deathbed. That sounds awfully dramatic, but I'm not sure how else to say it. I'm planning to fly back the morning of Thanksgiving, but I guess you never know.

Is November 2004 over yet?

Room service menu, all-day dining:

Light Meals
1. Large Cut Fries, Chilli & Mayonnaise
2. St. James Club Sandwich
3. Doorstep Lemon Brick Chicken & Mayonnaise
4. Omlette served with Fries

I repeat, Light Meals.

I've never seen anywhere willingly characterize their food with terms such as "doorstep" and "brick."

I should open up a salad bar here in London...

I neglected to consider two important things when lobbying to see "Jerry Springer: The Opera" while in London:

1. I don't like Jerry Springer.

2. I don't like opera.

In my defense, I honestly thought it was "Jerry Springer: The Musical" until we arrived at the theater.

I also forgot that British humor is a bit lost on me; and that the kind of laughter elicited when others make fun of you is generally strained and through clenched teeth.

Finally, I most honestly thought it could've been a lot sharper.

No matter, London has been great so far otherwise!

What I will remember about my darling Noah:

How when we first brought him home, he was barely taller than a CD and could most literally fit in the palm of my hand.

The time that catsitter Ed called in an utter panic, sure that Noah had miraculously escaped the North End apartment somehow -- but then the minute he heard my voice he innocently emerged from the deep recesses of Ed's kitchen shelves.

When he first stuck his head in a glass of water on the coffee table, instituting 11 years of our second-bowl-in-the living room policy of feline hydration.

How he used to nuzzle with Dad until he quickly realized he really loved me the best.

That Bryan and I argue to this day over who originally thought up his life-long nickname: The Beeps. (For the record, I suggested it since Noah used to always make a beeping noise when jumping down off something; Bryan's immediate response: "The Beeps! That is the stupidest nickname I've ever heard!")

Rare moments when he'd put Savannah in her place...

And then allow her to love him five minutes later.

How much our friends like Robin, Kelly and Sarah loved him too.

His wonderment at all things -- including the paint on the wall.

How he startled us with his nonchalance when we drove cross-country with him and Savannah.

His endearing habits of following me from room to room when I got home from work each night, and butting his head against mine in the morning so I'd make room for cuddling.

That my heart broke in two when we learned he was going to die.

But mostly, I will remember how sweet and beautiful he was, and how much happiness he brought us for 11 years.

We love you Noah. Rest in peace.