Mind Reading...

Amy: Hey, baby... I know what we can do tonight!

Stephen: *leans over.* Whisper, whisper, whisper.

Amy: *blush*

Stephen: Am I right?

Amy: *no response*

Stephen: Am I? You just don't want to answer me because I'm right. Because I'm a mind reader.

Amy: Am I that easy to read?

Stephen: Yes

Amy: Can any...?

Stephen: *interrupts* Only those who are very observant. Besides, you derive great pleasure from me knowing what you are going to say all the time. Don't you?

Amy: *nod* Then why haven't...?

Stephen: *interrupts* Because.

I hate it when he sees right through me. And I love it.

(And any of you with your head in the gutter... SHAME ON YOU! )

All I want for christmas is my two front teeth...

I have SO much to tell you all, so hold tight for this super-long edition of the Family Blog!

PART 1: Cinderella ain't got nothin' on me!

Some friends of Stephen's got married just recently, and as his invitation was for him and his partner, I got to go! (Never mind his repeated threats to take his former colleague. heehee.) We had an ongoing thing... I had been pestering him for a dress up night while he had been calling me a silly girl and telling me that only girls like doing the dress-up thing. Needless to say, a wedding was a perfect opportunity. We both had to dress up.

The wedding was to be held... wait for it... in a castle! And there was going to be dancing! It was a masked ball! I can't help but wriggle with excitement right now, and all this happened a few weeks ago. There was a rush to make masks, because Amy apparantly does not buy masks, and looks for any and every opportunity to play with plaster of paris. Stephen's mask was Herne the hunter, a fur covered stags face with a leather nose, and mine was a dryad, covered in ivy, moss, and bark. I made an ivy boutonniere for his suit, and an ivy coronet with tendrils for me. I curled my hair and wore it long.


His suit was gorgeous; it even had a waistcoat, and his tie matched my dress perfectly. My dress was a green floor length gown (which had to be taken in 2 inches!) that looks purple in the right light.


The castle is called Lympne (pronounced Limb) castle, and is in Kent, about 45 minutes from where I live. It is lovely. It was dark and cold when we arrived... so I didn't get to see the outside from a distance, but we did a little bit of sneaking around the empty parts of the castle.

Parts of the castle are as old as the 13th century. If you want to look at their website, go HERE.

The dancing was a Céilidh (pronounced Kay-lee), which is an Irish-Gaelic Barn Dance. Stephen, of course, said that he doesn't dance. He was the most handsome man at the wedding, he took my breath away all night, and he did so dance with me. At one point, during a dance that sent us off in 2 different directions, he hunted me down so that I would end up dancing with him. As much as I couldn't keep my eyes off of him, he couldn't keep his eyes off of me, either.

We drank A LOT of wine, got home very very late, and could not stop commenting on how wonderful the other had looked. It was a magical night. I must be a princess.


PART 2: The Craziness Lead-Up and Tamale Goodness

The last time he wwent to London, Stephen went out of his way to hunt down a little shop that carries Mexican items, and bought me some masa harina and dried New Mexican red chiles. All so I could make tamales for Christmas. I decided that it would be even more fun if I invited along some friends, so the Sunday before Christmas, I invited Sam and Rob to come and make cookies and tamales with me. We ended up with 2 dozen tamales, berlinerkranzen, vanilla kipferls, peanut butter cookies, gingerbread cookies, sugar cookies (decorated, of course), and ladies fingers. There was so such, even after they had been split 3 ways. The tamales were sweet, with coconut, pecans, pineapple, and raisins. Having never made masa preparada before, it was an adventure. Of the 3 batches we made, we actually got 2 of them to float. The third... well, we just pretended it floated when Stephen took a drop of it and squished it flat and lay it across the top of the water. Even Ashley got in on the fun, by helping to paint sugar cookies, and of course, eating them.

That means that there were all of those cookies, tamales, an apple pie, and a sweet potatoe pie for Christmas dinner. Yum.

Now if I could just get over the homesick bit.

PART 3: Merry (insert holiday here) to All...

Merry Christmas to all of my family and friends. I miss you all. A lot.

Ok, so maybe this wasnt as long as I thought it would be.

Ok! Enough being lazy, dad-gummit!

I am badbad. I know. Term has been over for a week, and I have not written to you all. Not even once. I'm sorry, really, I am. I decide, ok, today I'm writing... and I end up painting. Or staring blankly at a wall. Or sleeping. It seems so hard to even think about /doing/ anything at all.

Our family is doing well. Ash is really settling into school, enjoying more and more success. She was the only kid in her GCSE science class to take the higher test. She is turning in homework, and doing well. Even her maths is going ok. She has finally remembered (though she may well deny it if you ask her) that she enjoys maths.

I have spent some time in various schools in the area. One, a 'special school' for children with behaviour disorders, left me feeling very disturbed. How can anyone expect a child with a behaviour disorder to intrinsically understand what is and is not appropriate behaviour if there is no-one there to model said appropriate behaviour for them? I simply do not understand the concept of segregating children with special needs. I see the need for extra support (though the seeming definition of 'extra support' is very lacking, in my opinion... as in non-existent.) I don't think that the way to do it is to make sure that discrimination continues by teaching all children that anyone who is different needs to go to a 'special school'. I have to be careful... I could rant about it for quite a while. Let me just end with saying that as much as I am torn by the concept of special schools, I am even more disturbed by the lack of teaching that I saw in such schools. (or at least the ones I have been to.) The kids might as well be on the street or at home. Teachers didn't really care, there were no specialists dealing with those children and their individual special needs, there wasn't even any modification of teaching to make the learning more available to different needs. Everything was 'dumbed down' and that was it. Inclusion is the big talk of the moment here... but I have yet to see places that have implemented it.

And here is something else to think about... the UK is JUST as concerned about test scores as the US is. There seems to be no escaping it. Why is it that so many educational experts see that test scores only show how well tests can be taken, and not how well a child learns? Why does the modern 1st world get so caught up in competition and test scores? (I hear all about how far behind the UK is compared to other countries based on test scores as much as I did in the US also.)

Ok, ok. Enough already of the boring AmyGripesAboutEducation thing.I want to share some of my home with you now. Be aware, none of these pictures that I am going to share with you are ones that I have taken. They are found on the internet. I swear there will eventually be pics of personal things, but just not yet.


This is just a quick map to show you where in the UK we are. Canterbury is in the southeast of England, and is one of the smallest cities in the UK. It is far smaller even than Las Cruces... I figure it is about 4 miles from 1 extreme side to the other, with most of everything in a 2 mile radius. Easily walkable. London is about 1.5 hours away by train. To see an interactive map of Canterbury, click HERE.

This is Westgate, perhaps a 5 minute walk from my house. The town used to be circled by walls, which have now been turned into what we call the ring road. There used to be a gate in each of the four directions. This is the only one still standing. It has been turned into a museum, which Ash has visited and said it was nice. I'm taking her word for it, as I have not been there yet.

If you were standing to take the last picture of Westgate, and turned around, this is what you would see. If you were really really tall, that is. This is the High Street, which is the equivalent of Main Street. All the main shops are along here, along with the library. It really is the hub of the city. The red building you see is our favourite kebab shop.


This is the Old Weaver's house on the High Street... built 1500. It is an Italian restaurant now. The River Stour runs along side, and just at the other end is the ducking stool, which they used to use to strap in and dunk suspected witches and nagging wives. (No, I haven't been on it. Meanies, the lot of you!)


This is the Cathedral, and the reason that Canterbury is a city. One of the definitions of a city is a place with a cathedral... and thus any place with a cathedral is a city. This particular cathedral has quite a bit of history, being the burial place of the black prince and the assassination spot of St. Thomas Becket. Here is the cathedral from Stephen's work:

The University where he works is at the top of what I like to call hell-hill (because that is what it feels like to climb it.) You can tell just how big the cathedral really is. It is over a mile away.

These pics are just a start of what all I want to show you. Hopefully they will make up for the fact that it has been so long since I have last posted. And here's to my getting back in the swing of posting. Love you all!

Have Yourself A...

First of all, a very Happy Thanksgiving to all of my friends and family. Even though I didn't do anything, really, but study... I was with you in spirit. Imagining Anna's pumpkin cheesecake, Dar's turkey... my pecan and pumpkin pie. I miss you, my family and friends.

There was, of course, not enough time or fundage to call everyone that I wanted to call, or talk as long as I wanted to those I did call. But my thoughts were with each one of you.

There are still 4 projects left on my plate... and they are all due next week, so this really is crunch time. Last night I dreamt about not getting them all done in time. That I was trapped doing them forever and nothing was actually getting done at all, and that the clock was pressing down on me, crushing me. No wonders what I have been thinking about, right?

There have been so many changes here...

The Christmas lights are turned on in the High Street at night. It is amazing to me how something so simple really transforms the whole street. The trees look as though there are will-o-the-wisps floating in them, the whole street glows, and there is an air of Christmas. It makes me excited for the holiday.

The weather, while still cold, is far less cold than I expected. I still freeze, it is still at least as cold as the deep winter in New Mexico, but there has been no snow, and only one day when I walked outside and swore my face was going to fall off from the bitter frost. It has been raining a lot... which I still haven't gotten used to. I still LOVE the rain so much, seeing it grey outside makes me happy.

The river here is SO sensitive to the rain. When it doesn't rain, the river is low. The ducks and moorhens walk around on rocky patches. But the day after a rain, the river runs deep, and if you see a duck at all, it has attached itself to a glob of waterplants to avoid being swept away. It often amuses me that the ducks are so graceful when they swim, while the moorhens have to paddle like crazy and still get swept downstream. That is the joy of not having webbed feet. Poor moorhens.

Speaking of moorhens, the babies I watched from the time I got here have finished growing up and have moved away. Occasionally Stephen and I see one that he says is one of the babies, but I have no idea how he can tell. They all look the same to me anymore.

The one change that I am not happy with involves the sun. It gets really dark here, really early. By 5:30 it is midnight black. The sun is setting at 4. Stephen tells me that by the deep of winter, we will walk to work/school in the dark, and walk back home in the dark. I can't really imagine that yet... and wonder how I will respond. I hope I am not someone who needs the sun in order to function. I have never not had the sun before...

There are changes in us, too. Ash has taken to going out wandering with her friends, and occasionally she wanders out past when I am comfortable. In her defense, my comfort level has nothing at all to do with time, but with how dark it is... so I feel like she is out WAY too late and it is only 6pm. She is so good about coming home when she says and letting me know when she is going and with whom. For the most part, anyway.

I am ready to be done with this degree. I feel as though I am most productive when I don't have to interrupt what I am doing in order to go to class. I spent a few days at one of the local schools, focused on behavioural disorders, and I enjoyed it. I miss being in a classroom. Next term I will spend 6 weeks in a classroom, and I am looking forward to it. I never wanted to be a teacher because of the studying... but because I love being in a classroom learning with the kids. (Though I find that there are some specific classes I really want to take right now... physics, for one. And something math-y.) I miss Tristan so much that it hurts. And I made an apple pie that was so lovely... including the pie crust, from scratch. Yay me.

Stephen is enjoying his job; at least as much as I suppose it is possible to. He has lots of opportunity to direct his own tasks. He likes that. Gaming happens at our house, which I like, because I can pretend that I am involved even though I'm not... and it makes me a little more ok with the fact that I simply don't have time to do fun things like game the way I want to.

Well, this post is long enough to perhaps make up for a bit of my not blogging as much as I want. By the end of next week, things should calm down. I only have 1 big paper that /must/ be done over the break. The rest of the page long list is simply things to keep me ahead. So I should have more time to keep you all up to date. More soon, then!

This Message will Self-Distruct in 5 minutes...

I have exactly 5 minutes to post to the blog. 5 minutes, and I carved that out with a very sharp knife.

Tonight is my first yoga session here. Yay!

Stephen, as much as I'm sure he will deny it, is a nerd. And I found a wonderful article that supports me as I live with him. Its funny, too, so you should read it. HERE.

The holidays are coming way too fast, they put Christmas lights on the High street this week. They haven't lit them yet, but it is inevitable. I don't know just what we are doing for the holiday yet. The way it is going, maybe only studying.

What with homecomings and misspellings, my 5 minutes is up. I miss you all... and WILL find time to give you a longer post. Even if I have to use a MUCH sharper knife.

Beep Beep---Zip Tang!

Just a super fast update. It has been SO busy... I have 5 more huge projects to go. Lots of university drama in regards to things they should have told me but didn't, that now I am having to sort out. Yesterday I had to go to London all by myself to get things done so that maybe I wont fail the year. But we are still not sure. More on that later.

We have furniture!!! Delivered last Wednesday. Struggling to get things sorted out and put away, so that perhaps the home front part of life will settle down a bit. Ash got a new dresser yesterday.

Thank you to everyone who has been checking up on me... health is ok, things are just busy.

Happy belated Samhain, Dia de los Muertos, and Armistice Day. More soon!

2 Weeks of...

In the last 2 weeks, I have been sick, busy, sick, studying, sick, still sick, and more sick. But I am better now.

This was the first round of illness that I have had since arriving here, and boy, was it a doozy. I'm sure it was just a cold, but it crawled up into my ears and made its home in my throat and called itself happy. I haven't felt a sore throat like that since my years of tonsilitis. I had forgotten how miserable they were. I though about heading to the doctor, but every day I decided that I would tough it out just one more day... and I made it through. I drank a LOT of really strong lemon and honey tea, took a LOT of echinacea and just as many airborne tablets. I love airborne tablets. I wish we could get them here.

So now I'm back to 'normal' as it were, with an interesting little thing I have noticed. Acetaminaphen, here, is called paracetamol. And it, along with asprin and ibuprophen, are 1.) not available in bottles of large quantities, for fear of overdose... and 2.) between 15 and 35 pence a package of 16 tablets. That is 30 to 70 cents. So there is a trade-off. Yes, you have to go and buy them a little bit at a time, and yes that means no stocking up, but the price is so minimal. It makes me wonder why the US has to pay such high prices for pain relief in the states. If 'everything is more expensive' in the UK, are pharmacutical companies in the US really giving people their best prices? Or are they milking people to pad pockets? Just a little something that I had never thought about before.

Miss you all!

Finally... Work I'm Used To.

I had to write a paper for my English class. Well, a kind-of paper. An author study, limited to 400 words. I have never had to limit myself to 400 words before. In the US, they want more, to make you work. 400 words, they think, is easy to BS your way through. Here, concisity is key. Short and sweet. Let me tell you, to an Amy that likes to talk, 400 words is TOUGH, especially when they give you so much to cram into those paltry 400 words.

I shouldn't complain - this is the first assignment they have given me that feels comfortable at all. The only one that has been anything like what I am used to having to do. And, to be honest, I'm proud of it, so I'm going to share it with you. I'll even throw in the bibliography, because the articles and websites are interesting. And if you have small ones, CHECK OUT THE ROBERT MUNSCH OFFICIAL WEBSITE. I didn't want to leave. He is fun, there is so much to do...and he reads his stories and puts them online in a downloadable format. You could spend hours clicking and listening to awesome stories.

Every single one of you go HERE and pick at least one story to listen to. Take no more than 7 minutes and be a kid again. You can pick your favourite and comment on this blog; tell me which one it is. I'll tell you mine first, so you can't pick the same one. It is "Purple Green and Yellow" with the super-indelible-never-come-off-til-you're-dead-or-maybe-even-later colouring markers.

And now, without further ado, here is my paper:

Robert Munsch

A Critical Look

Robert Munsch is an American-born Canadian who Earned a BA in History at Fordham University, an MA in Anthropology at Boston University, and an Ma in Child Studies at Tufts University. He writes award-winning children’s books and poetry based on oral storytelling and readers’ letters, and really wants to be asked the question, “How has being a manic-depressive, obsessive-compulsive, recovered-alcoholic nut case changed your writing?" (WIZNURA, 2007; Munsch, unknown date)

Robert Munsch can easily be considered a high quality children’s author. He appeals to young readers. Children in his stories are portrayed as being smart, capable, and powerful heroes. His stories are relevant, adventurous, funny, touching, and often have twist endings. The illustrations are colourful and enticing; though the stories don’t need illustrations to be effective or appealing. They beg to be read and re-read: alone, together, or in a group.

His language varies from nonsensical to advanced; facilitating working with words in context, development of complexity and structure in the English language, pre-reading skills, and support for ESL learners through bilingual books translated into home languages. His simplistic stories follow a frame, fostering re-telling skills: and all his stories feature diverse characters and settings; enhancing inclusion and multi-culturalism in the classroom. They are child-centred, to the point of being written with the continuing input of children during oral storytelling sessions, and leading to ideal read-aloud books which can easily be used to bridge the gap between literacy in the classroom and in the home (Senechal, et al., 1998.) His story structures often bend conventions and can be used to foster understanding of genre and methods of writing outside the genre (Dean, 2000.) His books are humorous, interesting, and empower children by their pro-child, pro-equality stance.
Munsch’s books can be used at any primary stage, from Foundation to Key Stage 3. Some of his books are situationally relevant (i.e. ‘Andrew’s Loose Tooth’) or geared specifically towards older readers (i.e. ‘I’m So Embarrassed’). His official website can be used to encourage ICT skills and contains many stories/poems written in response to reader letters as well as stories written, furthered, or illustrated by children worldwide; incentivising bookmaking, letter writing, creative argument, persuasion, and other real-life skills. Books such as ‘the Paper Bag Princess’, heralded as the “feminist fairy tale” (Wiznura, 2007) can be used in upper primary classrooms to teach socio-studies.

Based on the above, it is easy to see Robert Munsch’s place in the diverse, quality book-rich primary classroom.

Bibliography

Annick Press. (2006). Available at: http://www.annickpress.com/authors/munsch.asp?author=257
(Accessed: 15 October, 2007).

Dean, D. (2000). ‘Muddying Boundaries: Mixing Genres with Five Paragraphs’,
The English Journal, Vol. 90, No. 1, Teaching Writing in the Twenty-First Century
(Sept.), pp. 53-56.

Kasper, J. (1998). ‘Circling with Robert Munsch’. Available at: http://www.stf.sk.ca/teaching_res/library/teach_mat_centre/tmc/P11233/P11233.htm
tmc/P11233/P11233.htm (Accessed: 15 October, 2007).

Munsch, R. (unknown date). Video interview by Annick Press,
O’Keefe, S., producer. Available at:
http://www.annickpress.com/videos/munsch.mov
(Accessed: 15 October, 2007).

Munsch, R. (1999). Interview by Scholastic Students. Available at:
http://www2.scholastic.com/browse/collateral.jsp?id=1325_type=Contributor_typeId=3299
Contributor_typeId=3299 (Accessed: 15 October, 2007).

Munsch, R. (unknown date). Interview by Khan, I. and Hörner, J.
Available at:
http://www.canadiancontent.ca/issues/0499munsch.html
(Accessed: 15 October, 2007).

Robert Munsch Official Web Site. (unknown date). Available at:
http://robertmunsch.com/ (Accessed: 15 October, 2007).

Scholastic. (unknown date). Available at:
http://content.scholastic.com/browse/contributor.jsp?id=3299
(Accessed: 15 October, 2007).

Senechal, M., et al. (1998). ‘Differential Effects of Home Literacy Experiences
on the Development of Oral and Written Language’,
Reading Research Quarterly, Vol. 33, No. 1 (Jan. - Feb. - Mar.), pp. 96-116.

Wiznura, R. (2007). ‘Robert Munsch’. Available at:
http://thecanadianencyclopedia.com/index.cfm?PgNm=TCE&Params=A1ARTA0010686
TCE&Params=A1ARTA0010686 (Accessed: 15 October, 2007).

School, the focus of my universe.

I was told that people were wanting to know how school is going. Well, it's okay. For the sixth formers (16-18 year olds, and where I was placed) the classes run on a block schedule, two classes in the morning, two after lunch. Each day you have a different class, and the schedules rotate in a weekly pattern. The expectations of learning for up here are so much different than the curriculum in America. I'm learning math topics that I wouldn't learn until I was a senior in high school.

I'm taking Math, English, and Photography as major courses, and science as a catch up. In all utter honesty, I'm running ragged. I have always detested the idea that my whole life should revolve around school but because I'm from America I'm already behind in the courses so school is supposed to be my only priority. Now, I say that meaning that I should spend most of my nights studying, but the part of me that really hates school refuses to make my whole world revolve around school (Which means I procrastinate on studying.) I hate studying with a burning passion. But it's something I /Have/ to overcome.

So other than my complete mental exhaustion, school has become only minorly overwhelming. The teachers are becoming more and more agitated with me because some of them have such thick accents and they talk so fast that I can't understand a word they say. So I keep having to ask them to repeat themselves and they get so sick of it. But it's becoming easier: my friends have learned to slow down when they talk and how to recognize when I can't understand them.
So everything is good here, under the circumstances. Thank you for asking. :D
It's an adjustment but one that I'm steadily getting used to.

02:29 pm livejournal post

So...

I want to talk about A.

I have been so good...I have not called her names or said nasty things or decked her or done any of those things that I actually do /think/ about doing.

I got to hear all about her pet name for me from Stephen's best friend's house mate, who is friends with her. She calls me bint, and Ashley brat. To everyone. As in that is what we are known as. bint and brat. She has done this, apparently, for long enough that when being spoken of, people have to use those terms in order to recognize who I am.

bint: an arabic word for daughter, and in the UK, a slang term for a woman who is unpleasant and domineering. Not a nice word AT ALL.

The best friend and housemate were having a housewarming party, to which Stephen and I were invited. A would be there. I wanted to go for a very bad reason... I wanted to show her up with my impeccable manners and haughty ignorance of her. I had visions of her feeling cut to the bone by the fact that I had so little care for her. I wanted to hurt her by being so bloody nice. But I knew I couldn't be friendly with her. I still can't.

Anyway, I decided to not go, because my reasons for wanting to go were shit. I told Stephen that he could go if he wanted, and he did. And then called me from the party and told me that he wanted me to come too. Honestly, I was glad. I had told him that I didn't care if he went... but I think I lied. Not on purpose, I didn't realize that I would end up feeling upset by it, but I was.

I kind of expected A to not be there, as I had told Stephen all of my reasons for deciding not to go... but she was. And I was terrified. Completely cowered by her... and it ticked me off so much. And one point in the evening, she brandished a knife in the room in front of me, not at me, but in the room, and I recoiled from her. And later she ran up to me, grabbed my hand, and drew a heart in lipstick on it. (Which she did to everyone except Stephen, so in that I wasn't singled out) I spent the whole time scared of her, my heart racing, and fuming for being scared.

She sent me a message on facebook afterwards. It has slowly turned into a conversation, as I cant seem to not respond without feeling rude. But the thing that gets me is that she wrote about me again, after the party, on her livejournal, in a public post, calling us bint and brat. Citing a conversation that she had with a friend about me (though it is not stated... and in my very defensive defense, its a new country, new water, new soap, and yes, she has fucking clearer skin than I do!) The link is here... you have to read the post and the comments.

I have NEVER called her anything but A. Even at my most angry, I never called her demeaning names and told all my friends what a such and such she is. And I am so very offended, and frustrated that there is nothing at all that I can think of to do that I am willing to do about it. I don't like to hate people... I don't even like the word hate... but she pushes all my buttons just the right way. Part of me really wants to confront her, get up in her face... but I never would. 1. It would serve no purpose, and 2. I don't want her to know that she gets to me like this.

I want to be a nice person. I want to be accepted by the people that Stephen hangs around with. But I feel as though she has taken all of them and poisoned them against me, and that there really is no point in even trying. So I'm sitting her whining to you all about it. *sigh*

Tears... and Why They Come.

It was not quite 11 in the morning, and I was sitting alone in a coffeeshop on the High Street, crying. Tears were leaving little tracks down my cheeks. It was the second time I cried since I got up this morning.

The reason I was crying was standing outside the window of the shop. She was maybe 18 months old, her hair a peach fuzz of blonde against her skull. Her mummy and daddy were standing on either side of her. I didn't know who she was, and I knew that I would never see her again. It didn't matter, because it was not really HER that made my eyes pour tears, but what she had done.

They walked up beside me, one parent on either side. She was walking by herself between them, you see; possibly one of her first experiences with the freedom of not having to hold hands. Abruptly she stopped and reached for them, and I thought, "Ah... she is ready to touch base again." They both reached down for her hands, one each, and tried to pull her along, but she didn't budge. She grabbed their hands, and put them together. She didn't want to hold their hands: she wanted THEM to hold hands with each other. And when they did, she smiled and clapped her hands and started walking again. Her world was happy. Her parents were holding hands.

I don't know why this 30 second exchange made me cry. It was so sweet. It was endearing and my heart ached. "Maybe this just shows that I'm sensitive today," I thought.

The first time I cried this morning was equally as silly. I was lying in bed next to Stephen, and we were taking our time waking up, just holding onto each other and sharing thoughts and other random bits. I told him about an image I had last night before bed that made me feel slightly sad and lonely and needing of him. I write him a journal, you see. I have for quite a while. And it is a very personal thing, to write to him like that. The image was of me, much older, writing in his journal... writing in the last journal he had ever bought for me, because he had died and I was alone.

I imagined that I wrote in his journals long past while he was here to read it. That I just kept writing to him, going through them one at a time, until I was almost done with the very last one he had ever bought... and it made me sad. It makes me sad just writing about it now. It brings tears to my eyes writing about it. And when I told him, I couldn't help myself, but started to cry. And he pulled me deeper into his arms and held me while I sobbed, called me his silly girl and loved me.

I don't know why I am so sensitive today.

Questions and Answers...

Happy October to you all! Pumpkins and Samhain and soon it will be Stephen's birthday, and I am excited to be able to try out my carrot cake recipe for him. Everything is just slightly different cooking here. Spices act and taste just a bit different, things need a titch more or less cooking. It's a lot to adjust to. I have high expectations that my carrot cake will come out as delicious as I hope it to.

I love it when people interact with my blog. I love it when people ask me questions and give me something to look at specifically for them, and in the hopes of getting more questions, I'll share the ones I just received. Dan the Man sent me an email asking me all sorts of 'curiosity' questions. So instead of posting a reply just to him, I though that, since other people might be curious about the same thing, I'd answer them here.

Here's what Dan said... "So, overall, how does it feel being in the UK? Have you felt any different (besides cold)? Have you met any other "yanks" in Canterbury? The university experience any different from NM? On the school front, how does Ashley like school? How are her classes different than here in the States? Number of periods? Length? Class size. etc. Thanks ;)"

How does it feel being in the UK? Have you felt any different (besides cold)?

You know when you are 12, just turning 13 tomorrow... and you think for sure you will feel different because you will be a TEENAGER... and tomorrow comes and you really don't feel any different at all? That is how this is. It is so awe-inspiring, so overwhelmingly mind blowing, that I can't stay in the mindset of how amazing it is. I forget to be appreciative in the trudge of daily existance. I have to remind myself to look up and conciously remember that these buildings are older than the entire COUNTRY I was living in. I have to remind myself to notice.

And then, there are times when England reaches out and grabs me by the throat and forces me to remember. Like when staring at the tree in Westgate Gardens that has a trunk larger than the diameter of a car. Or when listening to the piper standing on a street corner of the High Street playing in rags, with a dog at his feet and a small pool of coins on a cloth in front of him. Or standing by the eternal river flowing past the ancient gate and into the city center. Times like that it is impossible not to wonder if I am really here and now, in this time, or if I have somehow managed to slip back into the past and stand in the completely different body of some wandering peasant. And if so, have they slipped forward to take my place for a moment? Are they as awestruck as me?

Sometimes, I'm held motionless by it. And sometimes, I forget. Both are disconcerting.

Have you met any other "yanks" in Canterbury?

As far as other Americans, I have met 1 who has been at the University I attend and works in the International Office. She is leaving come spring to go back to the States. She is from Oklahoma. The next closest is a collegue of Stephen's, who is from Canada. He sounds fairly North American, and has been living in Ireland for 7 years. Otherwise, everyone around me is British. Their voices have become normal enough that an accent like mine stands out in a crowd more than the English accent does. On the news this morning, they were interviewing an American, and she sounded strange to me, almost harsh. I wondered if that is really how I sound.

However, Stephen's mum works in the same corridor with 4 Texans. Just the other day she asked me, in all seriousness, if I carried duct tape and WD-40 (though she called it CD-23 or something like that, and it took us forever to figure out what she meant) in my purse, because one of the Texans she works with said that ALL real Texan women carry Duct tape and WD-40 with them everywhere they go. I had to sheepishly explain that I must not be a real Texan - and that I lived on the border anyway... we don't carry duct tape and WD-40, we carry black eyeliner and Our Lady of Guadalupe medallions.


The university experience any different from NM?

The first week I was completely overwhelmed. They absolutely piled on the workload, and said things like, "Now, you need to be doing a lot of reading on your own, which is why we are not giving you a lot to do." I think I figured out why I was overwhelmed.

Here, there are 3 terms in a year. You stay in the classes you take for the entire year. And they give you a list of all the work you have to do for the entire year at the start of the classes. So all this work is spread over the entire year. I'm not used to that. It seems like too much, and I'm going to have to really work to figure out how to manage my time effectively.

I still haven't figured out the book situation. I'm not sure what I need to buy or even if I need to buy. And in general, the University seems disorganized. But it is nothing that I can exactly put my finger on.

On the school front, how does Ashley like school? How are her classes different than here in the States? Number of periods? Length? Class size. etc.

I think it best if I let Ashley answer this question for you, as she is the one actually experiencing her schooling, and can compare it much more effectively than I can. I'll have her post on this tonight.

Now for a complete change of subjects... Stephen and I had an interesting discussion last night on my post about grocery stores and the plethora of ready meals. He said it sounded 'cheeky'. After a discussion of exactly what 'cheeky' means (which I'm still not sure I understand... but it is something like sometimes bratty and sometimes slightly rude, but not always...) he stated, and rightly so, that the US is /known/ for being a country that is so focused on fast foods. So I feel that I should clarify. I haven't been to a whole lot of grocery stores here, so I can't really generalize that ALL stores have so much in the way of ready meals. And I went to stores in the US that were geared towards my kind of cooking (whole raw foods). So it's not entirely fair to say that the UK has more ready-meals in a general sense. Its like comparing apples and oranges.

I stick by my statement that I have seen more ready meals (in % of the store focusing on them) in the stores that I have been to here than I did in the stores I frequented in the States. I am open to changing my mind as I see more.

Brrr... and Other Stuff.

I have never known cold that goes down to your toes and stays there.

Granted, I haven't been feeling well, and the radiators in the house are not turned on. So it is partly my own fault for feeling the cold creeping into my bones like death. I'm sure it has actually been colder outside in the States... but I can't seem to shake the cold. I can't seem to really get warm enough, until I'm huddled under the duvet and wrapped up in Stephen-warmth.

The temperature here is currently, according to the weather-woman, surprisingly low for this time of year. At least 5 degrees C less than they expect it to be. May not seem like a lot, but in Fahrenheit-speak that is about 10 degrees colder than 'normal'. And normal is such a loose term. My 'normal' for this time of year is about 35 degrees more than that.

It didn't help that today was rainy... and while I love the rain, it is undeniable that rain, especially cold rain, makes things so much colder. Plus there is such a wind here... it blows into your ears and freezes your brain.

Today was also my first day of University. A lecture that was really only basic information, and a seminar in the small group I'll be working with for the rest of the time I am there. And I was surprised. First at the fact that everyone was SO much more friendly than I expected, and second because of a cultural fact that I saw in action today.

I had read a book by Kate Fox called, "Watching the English". Kate Fox is an anthropologist, who picked apart the behaviour rules of the English people. A lot of them were silly and really difficult for me to accept as being truth, and easy for me to dismiss, being Non-English. (Stephen kept saying things like, "Oi! I do that!", so there must be at least a lot of truth in them, as un-understandable as they are to me.) But one of the things that she said was that names are not something that are given up at first meeting.

We played one of those silly ice-breaker games in our seminar. There are about 30 of us, and we had to pick a number between 1 and 30 and answer questions. Silly questions like what is your favourite movie; things like that. Nothing was said about names at all. And noone gave their names. They all answered the question and at the end I might have known something about them, but not their name. So I guess I'm down to saying things like: "Hey, you, girl who doesn't believe that pastry should be savoury! Come here!" I, being American and loud-mouthed, did indeed tell them my name. And they all stared at me blankly. As though I were the insane one of the group.

One person of note sat behind me at a table full of gigglers. I have to admit a bit of a bias towards those silly girls as mentioned in one of my previous posts. Well, her question was about her favourite movie. With a gusto, she ranted about "High School Musical" for maybe 10 minutes. We couldn't get her to stop, and I now know that she has the pillow and the pajamas and the poster and the DVD and everything else under the sun, that it is the best movie EVER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!, and that not only does she squeal like a pig, but also her accent is so thick as to be almost unintelligible to me. And that she is 19. Our tutor actually compared her to his 6 year old daughter, who also loves "High School Musical". And we all laughed at her, because that is what English people do. They laugh at themselves. (And yes, this girl giggled madly along with the rest of us.) The most disturbing thing about it was the fact that the entirety of her table were chirruping in the whole time in agreement with her, in equally squeal-ly voices. Some of them were a bit more understandable, but all were equally high-pitched.

On a less soprano note, I was not the oldest person in the class! There are a whole group of us 'mature students', as we are called. They are all fairly nice, they invited me into their group, and they seem to have some grasp of what is important in education. NOT that I am saying that HSM girl doesn't... I'm just not entirely convinced that she could carry on a conversation without mad giggling. Imagining her in a classroom... not nice, Amy. Not nice.

Anyway, I have no opinions yet on anything. I have at least the rest of the week to get through. And perhaps a few more before I'll make any sort of judgement. I'm just really glad I'm not the only grown-up.

Now... where the heck did I put that hot water bottle and really heavy blanket? I'm freezing!

The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly...

A few days ago I promised you something. Things are very different here, and I am sure you want to know what I miss and what I don't. I thought about just posting a list, but I'm too verbose for something that simple.

The Good:

Biscuits
Even though I think I will never figure out what the difference is between a cookie and a biscuit, I find that there are biscuits here that are quite yummy. Garibaldi biscuits are nice, and there are these super nice crinkle top ones that go all creamy when you dip them in tea. Yum.

Public Transport
A maybe-friend and I were discussing the public transport system just yesterday. He was whinging (that means whining) about how bad the public transport system is here. Compared to the US, it is phenomenal. Trains and buses are available not only to take you across the city, but to other cities as well. Yes, it's a bit pricey... but London is only an hour and a half away, plus no driving on the wrong side of the road in traffic. Works for me.

Scenery
Not only are the natural bits, like trees and river, lovely, but so are the buildings. And the masses of people are so diverse, speak so many different languages, that sometimes I can close my eyes and just let the sounds of it wash over me. I imagine that is what a distant galactic airport would sound like. But this is much prettier than I imagine a galactic airport to be. Galactic airports would be far more smelly too, I think.

Lunch with Stephen
I have been the only one not at work/in school (I start tomorrow), and have thus had the fun of being able to go and have lunch with Stephen every day. It is a lovely walk (with the exception of the Hell-Hill, see The Bad) and the weather has been quite nice. Plus there is often one or two of his friends around, and they have made me feel very accepted, which was unexpected and is quite pleasant.

Curry
I love Indian food... and there are a lot of really awesome Indian restaurants to tempt me. Curry is a VERY popular food in England; chicken tikki masala is considered the national dish. every single one of you should go right now and have a curry. But I'm not buying.

Foot Cuddling
Having someone special to cuddle feet with me at night is awesome. I have had significantly fewer nightmares (2 weeks without even 1... yay!) and I feel like a weight is gone from my chest. Living alone was fun, I suppose... but not for me. I was scared a lot. Scared enough that I was so used to how it felt to be scared that I didn't notice the fear. I notice that it is gone, though.

Fast Food Franchises
There are hardly any, compared to the States, where fast food has invaded every corner and you can't go 100 feet before running into another fast food joint. Here, there is 1 McDonalds, 1 Burger King, and 1 Subway. And the buildings they are in are a bit less obtrusive. It is much easier to pretend that fast food doesn't exist here.

Gathering
I sometimes feel a little bit like a pre-historic woman in that there is food growing on the sides of roads all over the place. Brambles with blackberries, currents, apples, figs... all of them just grow wild. I walk along with a basket sometimes and just gather. I can't wait until the summer... blackberry jam and pudding and ice cream and pancakes... anything I can think of to do with the little buggers. I have already dried rosehips, and there is rosemary and lavender.. all wild.


The Bad:

Washing Machines
We have a washing machine, and it is an awesome little device designed to conserve electricity and use minimal water... but it takes 2 hours to wash. It is a washer/dryer combo, which in theory is nice... but it only dries 1/2 a load at a time, and takes another 2 hours to do it. So I hang laundry... in the house. That's what happens when you live in a flat. Someday I aspire to have a garden (that's a backyard to ya'll) with a line for hanging laundry. Lap of luxury.

Hell Hill
The walking path up to Stephen's work is lovely... except for this 1/2 mile stretch of hill. Straight line up the steep hill stretch. Oh-my-god-I-think-I-might-die-before-I-reach-the-top stretch. They say walking things like that are supposed to get easier with time. Well, I ask them... how much time? It's been 2 weeks already and I still feel like my calves are going to fall off! Walking down it is really nice, though.

Tomato Sauce
It is not the concept of tomato sauce that bothers me here... it is the fact that they are all so sweet. Perhaps they use different types of tomatoes, I don't know. But the sauce is so sweet that none of my internalized recipes for making tomato based things work. They all taste strangely like I have added a half cup of sugar.

Mexican Food
There is none. The 'mexican restaurant' that we have here has a name that is not even Spanish, and the only mexican items on the menu are fajitas and Dos Equis (which they do not even serve with lime). Their jalapeños are NOT hot. As a matter of fact, I ordered a habañero (hopefully hothothot, right?) and while it was hotter, it was not that hot either. They can't seem to get food hot enough for me. The grocery has 'Old El Paso' brand thingies (made in Sussex)... but the corn tortillas have flour in them, there are no green chilies, and the tostadas are the kind you wouldn't be caught dead buying in a grocery in the southwest. And I don't think there is a place to get masa, there is no hominy here, and the only place I have seen dried red chilies is in the Thai grocery. I think I am really going to miss decent Mexican food.


The Ugly:

Amy before she combs her hair right after she wakes up in the morning
Enough said. ;)

Well, there is a quick list off the top of my head. Remember that any references to people were purposefully left out, so don't be offended if you feel you have been slighted. Unless you are an appliance, in which case you might have a legitimate grievance, and you should promptly contact your solicitor (that's a lawyer).

The Old Man is Snoring...

It's raining!!!!!


Yay yay yay... and some more yay yay yay's. I LOVE the rain. I love it when it just sprinkles, when it pours, when it spatters or mists or gushes. I love the rain. It feels like a new start, every time.

The rain I am used to is often warm, very rare, and either very light or too powerful to actually go outside into it. It often involved hail, broken windows, and flooding. But this rain... this rain is steady and consistent. It is something to trust in. It is daddy rain. It feels safe, like I'm in a cocoon and the rain is the walls around me.

I don't exactly know why I love the rain so very much. But it calls me. I want to play in it, get wet in it, fold paper into boats and sail them down the gutters like I did when I was small. I used to play in the rain in the States. But I think this rain might be too cold. So I stare out the window at it and pretend that I'm in it.

One of the memories I have as a younger person involves the rain. It is a memory that is so lovely and precious to me that I have built on it, and I know now that what I remember is more than what there actually was. But it doesn't matter to me that my brain has taken it and made it more... it is a lovely memory. It is an important memory. I don't have to remember the truth. I don't want to remember the truth.

It was a weekend, probably a Saturday afternoon. The sky was dark grey and overcast, clouds hanging heavy over the top of me. It was raining, a persistent drizzle, perhaps a bit more powerful than what it is raining outside my window now. But it, too, was a daddy rain. The rain and the low clouds were an unbreachable wall between me and anyone and anything else. I was in my room, my pink room, my neat pink room where everything was perfect. There was no one else there. I was sitting in my window, on a thick cushion covered in pictures of pink Victorian roses. The light from the fixture on the ceiling was warm and yellow, the kind of light that pulls you into its arms and holds you close. It was just bright enough to define the walls of my room as the walls of the world... and past that was the rain.

I had nothing to do, nowhere to go, no one to be with. No chores, no homework, no yelling or fists, nothing. I think I was 10, perhaps 11. Maybe 9. Does it really matter? I was at that age where there is no other time in the world. What was right then would always be. Every moment timeless. I was not so small to have to wish that I was bigger, but not big enough to long to be grownup yet. I was just... me. I was in that moment, cuddled comfortably on the window cushion, leaning back against the wall behind me, with my feet tucked up and warm underneath me. I was holding a book in my hands, some old hardback tome which gathered the warmth of the light and pushed it into my hands. I was reading in spurts, in the tick tocky silence, interjecting the story with glances out the window to remind myself that the wall was still there, that I was really still safe, that it was real.

The smell of ozone that only seems to come with the rain in the Southwest was there, and it was a clean smell, one that didn't exactly fit in the warmth of the room, but instead emphasized how held I was by the safety of the warm light. It was good. It tingled my nose when I breathed in, almost painfully. I was alive, it told me. And the world was good. In the moment of my awareness of exactly how tingly alive I smelled, the dry musty scent of the book I was holding streamed into my nose. There was such a contrast between it and the ozone, such a marked difference between the crisp and the ancient, that I felt stretched across time, on fire with being alive and holding such ancient wisdom. It was a perfect moment.

I remember that smell.

Perhaps that moment is why I try to memorize the scents of things that are important to me. I try to memorize the smell of Tristan's hair, the scent of Stephen's chest, the tingle in my nose that is Ashley. And maybe that moment is why, when I get caught up in the depth of loving someone so much that I can physically feel it, the feeling starts in my nose, then moves down to clench in my stomach. Or why when I hurt or am sick, smelling hurts. Any scent is painful. Or why smells I have forgotten, then smell again, can stop me in my tracks. Or why I am led to investigate imaginary scents that only I can smell when we go for walks.

The rain is safety for me. And this light misty rain wraps me up and holds me close. It loves me, if you can understand what that means. And it feels like being home.

WoOt the Teen has arrived!

Okie Dokie!
Hello ladies and Gents and all you people who love and worship me! I have been told that you guys have missed me terribly and want me to blog. So...

This is a blog...
It has words...
That I've written...
To you...
Yes, you...
With the face...
*Cough*
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So, hi. I guess I should tell you all about Merry Old England. (BTW, Texas has twice the land size as the UK including the Uk's water, and England has a little over twice the population.) So, what's the Football scores? Oh... Wrong country. I don't think I meant soccer... Lets try this again shall we? So, whats the Rugby scores? Hehe, I honestly don't know what to say to you. I bet your expecting the whole 'Oh, it's green' or 'Oh it's cold' or 'Oh, the people talk funny' type bit, or maybe the whole 'I miss home', 'I miss you so much!', and 'I miss the Hot Cheetos' type thing. Well, I really do miss the Cheetos. Hehe I made a funny....

I would think that you would know that I miss you guys so terribly, that I think about you often, and you should know change is hard. I find this country so weird, and even though we're speaking the same language the language barrier is quite big. Here's some news you might not know: My boyfriend from the states and I are still together. You think I'm crazy. I can feel it. Umm, anyway yes, I AM crazy, but I love him to pieces and I won't give him up for every British guy and girl that this over populated country can throw at me! Now let me tell you something, long distanced relationships are hard, like Mondo hard. But totally worth it.

So school is fine; struggling in math, I'm expected to already know Calculus, Statistics, Algebra two... the list goes on and on about the things I wouldn't learn for another year or more in America. But it's all good, people LOVE my accent. "It's southern, and so American!" I only have a southern-ish accent around my family, thank you very much. This came from the same people who thought that our States were really the equivilant of Cities and Towns (Yes, America only has like 50 Cities.) They can act so stupid. I bet they get just as frustrated with me because I know nothing about England.

I'm taking a photography class and doing pretty well, considering I've already broken one of the schools cameras. Now I KNOW you're laughing at me, I can hear it from over here! It's not my fault I dropped it on a window sill! (Now is your time to laugh hysterically and send me comments saying, "ROFL[Roll On Floor Laughing], you're such a klutz!" But anyway other than that I'm an amazing student!
Hmm... I was going to show you a picture, but it's not letting me... Next time I snag a school computer I'll post some B-E-A-utiful pidders for you. ( I meant to spell pictures incorrectly just so you know.)

But ya, the life of Ashley consists of mostly school, reading, hoping my stuff will arrive soon (I want the rest of my clothes!), and reading. Oh, plus all the nessesities (E.g. Shower, brush teeth, eat, you get my drift?) So ya, isn't my life lovely? Muahahaha You so wish you were me right now. Don't you wish that you were the one who gets to poison a new country with your White, Trailer Trash/American Toxins and stuff? Like, Totally!

Haha, Love you all!
Ash-y

Waiting for God(ot)...

I am alone this weekend.

All alone, with only my fleas to mourn me.

It's not really been that bad; I have had time to chat and look at far too many things on the Internet and watch the rugby and go shopping and do dishes and laundry and write a letter to Tristan and talk to my mother and write her a letter and order her a map and change those pesky very high lightbulbs and write in my journal and pick my nose and take a bath and go for a walk and watch the moorhens and doodle and pick leaves and think about what it would be like to have a back yard and if I would get in trouble for picking the flowers in the public gardens, and I got a new file box to start organizing the bills... but I haven't started that yet.

Poor you! and why are you all alone? I hear you asking.

Well, it's not like I have a new nephew, like Stephen does. (Congratulations to the entire family!) And so, I'm not in London. And it's not like I have friends to go play lazer tag, spend the night in a whole different town which requires a train to get to, and go beach hanging and ice skating to amuse me, like Ashley does. And so I'm not on the South of England.

It doesn't actually leave me a lot to do.

The hardest part was waking up by myself this morning. And tonight might be worse, if Ashley doesn't make it home until very late. But it will pass, and it is good for me. Almost nice, even. Noone needing to be fed but me. Noone grumpy but me. Noone to get in my way while I scrub the bathtub or gather laundry... or to steal the one book that I wanted to read just before I get to it. And I have my credit card. Aren't they supposed to make everything better?

A weekend is not enough time to miss them, but I do.

Ashley will be home tonight, and then I think I'll wait patiently for my God(ot)...

...but he will actually arrive.

Something Amazing!

The most wonderful thing is happening right now, as we speak....

The leaves are changing colours.

I noticed it yesterday for the first time. The leaves, which up until now have been dizzyingly copious shades and patterns of green, have suddenly got the most stunningly beautiful red edges. I was intrigued. Why had THAT happened? I had never seen such a colour in leaves before... except in that Virginia Creeper that grows outside of Dar and Kim's house when the season starts to turn. Wait a minute... (Slowly lighting bulb over my head... wait for it... wait for it... DING!) Oh!!! Oh!!! It must mean that the leaves are starting to change! But its not even the end of September yet... that shouldn't happen until late October, should it?

I'll confess to being many things, and at times smart is one of them. Just not right now, in regards to this, I suppose. It took me far too long to figure out that the change of season might come so late in the year in the Southwest of New Mexico because of the fact that it is a desert, which I am no longer in. Of course it would get cold earlier here, aren't I always freezing my toes off already? It makes sense that the leaves would change earlier than I am used to.

Upon reflection into my blatant stupidity, I came to the following conclusions: It is reasonable and logical for it to be a difficult one for me to figure out, because this concept of leaves changing colours is so foreign to me. My life has been spent in a place where the leaves don't really change colours all that much. They turn yellow or brown on the tree because they are dead... and they stay there until the wind blows them off, which is a process that begins quickly; but it is not uncommon to see last years hangers-on when the tree is blooming the following spring. I have never really seen trees turn red. (Except in those mythical things called TV shows. But we all know they are faked anyway.) And never as a gradual movement of red from the outer edges. Leaves are green... until they are dead and then, seemingly overnight, they are yellow. And it happens so late where I'm from. We wore shirt sleeves until late October, Samhain is generally the first day that its chilly enough to wear a sweater or a lightish jacket. A SWEATER OR A LIGHTISH JACKET! I'm bundled in Stephen's heaviest coat whenever we leave the house... and sometimes while I'm in the house too. Thanksgiving is really the time for throwing yourself into piles of raked leaves, not September.

So that is my exciting news for the day... the leaves have just started their turning. My first change of season in this far far colder place. Its stunningly beautiful. Trees with red leaves. Wow. I wonder what they will look like when they are entirely red, and how long the leaves will stay on the trees before they fall. I guess I'll be finding out soon enough.

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On another, completely different note, I have a song I want to share with you all. Everyone give a great big resounding facetious 'Thank you' to Stephen for bringing home the movie that this came from, and for singing it all night last night just to listen to me giggle madly. It may be the funniest song I have heard in a long time... and I rolled on the floor laughing about it all night. It makes me think of Christie... and I can't get it out of my head. I'll be singing it to Tristan when he calls me today.

(Update: Don't try to click on the video... it is not working. And anything else I post to share it with you will just disappear soon anyway... so go HERE and type in Spider Pig ... and giggle madly.)

The Internet God...

Right off the bat... Gracie, I'm so sorry that I didn't manage to bring Stephen over to meet you and the rest of the family. There was so much to do, and there were a lot of people that I didn't get to see. It was NOT that you were not important... we just ran out of time. I'll do my best to bring him back with me as soon as I can to get to meet you too. However, since you are SUPPOSED to be coming to visit me this summer, you'll get to meet him soon. Get that passport started yet? ;)

Well, the internet is connected at the house. However, Magical Mystical Stephen has to do secretive and deeply religious things in order to let computers attach to it. And since he is officially excited about having the internet (I have already figured out that I'll never see him again, and went to bed by myself last night for him puttering. In his defense, though, I DID get extra cuddle time when he did come to bed.) I am sure that he will have it all sorted out as soon as possible. Which means more regular blogs and returned emails.

This has been the week of preparing to go to University for me. There has been many lines (we call them queues, pronounced 'cues') full of preppy accented 12 year olds. Or so they seem. They are quick to judge and content to talk about someone's shoes or who slept with whom and "Oh my GAWD! Do you SEE that guy over there! He's so bloody HAWT!" I feel very very old. I have yet to see someone that is the same age as me. I'm hoping it is better when classes start. Either that or I might have to start wearing a shaggy scarf around my neck. If I do... someone please strangle me with it.

I am currently working on my list of things I like from here and things I miss from there. I hope to post it tomorrow, but be forewarned... there will be NO people on it. It goes without saying that I miss you all, and that this would be a much better place if you all would just move too. So hurry up and do it.

Damn the Catch-Up, I'm Pushing Forward!

I was going to spend a lot of time playing catch-up with you all about all of the things that were happening, but I have come to the conclusion that I never actually will be able to catch up. So, the short version. We got back from the Grand Canyon, spent time with family, and left. First to Houston, where we spent the night with Jim and Erin, and their two lovely girls, both of whom fell in love with Stephen, then the next day on to London.

Jet lag was not bad, all things considered. Ash caught it the hardest of all of us. She was barely coherent the first day. We wandered a bit, then went to Herne Bay for dinner and a walk by the ocean. Stephen and Ashley played rough-and-tumble on the beach, while I picked up rocks and put them in Stephen's pockets. We went home about 20 pounds heavier from all of the rocks that we (meaning I) found. They are flint, which washes up onto the beach and has historically been used to build with. A lot of the very old buildings in Canterbury are made of flint. I love flint.

The weekend was catching up and getting used to the lay of the land. We walked a lot, trying to get Ashley especially comfortable with where things were. Monday was the meeting with her Headmaster. The decision was made to advance her a year into the 6th form, rather than hold her back a year. It was a good decision, since it meant there were no uniforms and she would have a lot more autonomy, which were the two things she was the most concerned about.

Tuesday we went to London to look for shoes, which was entirely unsuccessful. Doc Martin didn't have the right shoes in her size. Birkinstock didn't have any winter boots. It was still fun, though, and we met up with Stephen's mum for dinner. Ashley really likes her.

Ash started school on Wednesday, and thus far, she is liking it. She says there is a lot that is different, they treat her a lot more like an adult, and the classes go much faster. She came home with a friend, which was slightly surprising, and also embarrassing, since there really is no furniture in the house.

Stephen started his new job just this last Monday, and thus far he likes it. They have let him off pretty easy, not overwhelming him with too much to do, which I suppose is a nice thing. I have been able to walk up and have lunch with him, which is even nicer, I think.

I had a meeting with the department head yesterday, and everything is set to go. My tutors have been hand picked, as will be the school which I teach in in January. He likes me, and we apparently share a lot of the same educational philosophies... but he admitted that I am the first international student to come mid course and finish this degree. I'm a guinea pig. Exciting.

Last bit of news... we will have internet at the house in 6 days. That means I'll be able to keep better in touch with all of you. You are missed!

Finally... An Update!

I hear you out there in ReaderLand… “Where the heck ARE you?!” So much has happened, and for one reason or another (currently because of lack of internet) we have been unable to update. So this is THE BIG UPDATE. I’ll pick up where we left off.

After two wonderful days in the Gila, we were off to the Grand Canyon. The drive there was hellacious, tedious, and long. We finally got to Flagstaff after dark, and decided to stay there rather than finish the additional hour and a half drive to the Canyon. However, after calling and being told that they would charge us for the room anyway, we decided to bite the bullet and finish the trip.

Stephen had had so many questions about the elusive elk since eating a bit of one, and he was a bit excited about seeing signs indicating that there were elk in the area. About 45 minutes into the trip through the ‘forest’ of juniper, I slammed on the brakes, scaring the elk away (of course) before Stephen had a chance to see it. It was a doe, so not nearly as large as a buck, but still impressive. Saddened, we drove on, this time with Stephen peering out of the window, determined. 15 minutes later I screeched to a halt again and he got to see the back side of another doe. 10 minutes after that, HE was the first to spot one, and rather than screeching to a half I slowed and backed up. He excitedly took pic after pic in the dark of yet another doe. They were the best pictures of the dark we had the entire trip. What a shame there was nothing else in them but the dark.

After a night outside the canyon, we drove into the little town of Tusayon. Explored a bit, checked into our hotel, and hit the canyon. It was far more impressive than either of us expected. And actually, words can’t really describe the experience of standing on the rim and looking into the depths of the canyon.

However, I can unequivocally say… I LOVE SCOPAOLOMINE PATCHES! Because of the patch, I am not typing about how I stood on the rim of the Grand Canyon and puked my guts out or fell in because of the vertigo and accompanying motion sickness. Instead, I get to say that I sat on a little ledge that hung out over the cliffs and swung my feet over the canyon. I leaned over the edge and breathed in the air. I listened to the swish of the ravens sailing over the open expanses, and I loved it. I was comfortable enough to get closer than Stephen.

Day two of the Canyon involved a very turbulent airplane tour (yay scopalomine!), followed by a trip into Antelope Canyon, a very famous slot canyon. It was lovely, and I had a lot of fun tracing the layers in the walls of the canyon. Some nice pics too. Then a trip through a 2 mile tunnel, and a 4 hour boat trip along the Colorado River. It was wonderful fun, though at the end Stephen and I both wished that we had done a white water trip too. Perhaps next time. The end of our day was a 4 hour bus ride back to our hotel. We had conversation with a lady from central Texas who asked us if we were newlyweds… to which we had to say no. It was slightly amusing to listen to her try to figure out exactly WHAT we were… but she finally defeated our close-mouthedness by flat out asking if we were “In love”, to which we had to say yes. (As if THAT were a chore.)

Leaving the Canyon, we stopped at City of Rocks, and I REALLY wanted to stop at the petrified forest, but we just didn’t have time. We had a date in Albuquerque. And we made it, in 6 hours. Just because it took another hour to make it the last 5 miles because of rush hour traffic means nothing. We visited an old friend of Stephens in Old Town, got some shopping done, then met up with Paula and Aaron at Paula’s studio.

There is a funny story here. Or at least funny to you, perhaps. I had directions to the studio, which were on a quiet street. There was noone around, so I wasn’t really paying attention to the road, only to trying to figure out which of these buildings looked like a warehouse with an art studio in. (They ALL did!) Anyway, I find it, start to turn, and get a HONK!HONK! I had cut someone off! I felt terrible...

…but not as terrible as I felt when I realised that the person I had cut off was Paula! We both laughed about it in the end, but I still blush to think about it. (I’m sorry, Paula!) I hope I made up for it; Stephen and I bought a painting (Which I still haven’t been able to get online to pay for!) and dinner was lovely. When the night ended we didn’t want to leave.

Next morning, breakfast with Andre and Andrea, then a long trip home, picking up Tristan and Ashley on the way. By the time we got home, the car was so packed that there were things at everyone’s feet, crammed into as many small spaces as we could find. We, however, were glad to be home, and glad to be done with the incessant travelling.

To be continued…

Gila

Today we went to Gila national park. We hiked several miles through a lovely canyon cut into some pretty rocks by a still vigorously flowing river.

We got to see a woodpecker, a squirrel, many spiders, lizards, huge bumble bees, some fish, and even a few other hikers.

In addition we got our feet wet, padding in the almost freezing river water to cool our feet down from the walking.

Afterwards we stopped off at a picnic spot overlooking Gila park and consumed a quick sandwich.

What's Been Goin' On...

Don't worry, we have not forgotten you. It has been SO BUSY at casa de Stephen and Amy that there has been little time to check our email, let alone blog. But there is time now, and This is the official Check in and Update.


After an incredibly busy Tuesday, in which the movers came and emptied out my house of items going to England, I drove to Mom Holen's. A hot night in which I had many nightmares about spider webs and being trapped while the millions of tiny spiders descended to eat me alive left me groggy and out of sorts on Wednesday. But it was a busy day none the less. An airport run to pick up a friend on mine and Stephen's, and then we hot-tailed it to the house to clean like crazy. During the trip and cleaning craziness, there was the silly little girl meltdown. What if what if what if. I can only think it must have been pre-arrival jitters in the worst way. I had a sudden new sympathy for all those brides who freak out at the last minute and change their minds. Thank god someone was there to hold my hand and let me cry, and talk me through it.

Stephen's flight out of Newark to Houston was delayed by 35 minutes, leaving him worried that he'd be unable to make his connecting flight from Houston to El Paso - a connection for which only 40 minutes had been scheduled. Some time was made up in the air, and Stephen had to race across the airport to arrive panting at the El Paso flight's boarding gate with only minutes to spare. That flight was supposed to arrive at 10.20... and we figured we had plenty of time to get there. We didn't. His flight was early, and there was no time to go back to the house and change from grunge clothes into something nicer, let alone shower off the moving stink. We arrived in time, but somehow missed him off the plane. We met up at the baggage claim and I felt as though I could finally breathe. That the hardest part was over.

We left the airport and hit Chico's Tacos for dinner. To his credit, he tried them like a trooper. His response after: "They tasted like nothing, like I was eating fried cardboard soaked in watery tomato juice." But at least he experienced them. Then home, and crawl into bed. It had been a long day, and we were all tired, but sleep was short for staying up, catching up.

Thursday was the start of family meeting time. All the Holens, then a trip to Stahmann Farms to buy pecans for Stephen's mum. They no longer make chile peanut brittle, which is what I specifically wanted to get for her, but they DID have chile dusted pecans, so that is what will have to do. I REALLY hope she enjoys them.

Afterwards was dessert with my mother, a cherry apple crumb cake. Yumminess. Stephen made quite the impression on my mother, who said he was so very smart and awfully cute. She may be as smitten as I am.

Dinner at Mom's - her chicken and green chile enchiladas. Then a movie: Stardust. It was good good good, and the main character has the same name as Boo, but it so late by the time we got home that we fell into bed. Still, it wasn't enough sleep, as we, of course, had to stay up talking until 2 am.

Friday was more family time. A late sleep-in, then rush to pick Tristan up at school on time, and a last conference with his teacher. We are going to be pen-pals with his class, sending pictures and treats to the kids, and able to answer questions. The teacher will definitely let Tristan email us from school, and may be able to work something out as far as IMing back and forth with his class. What an exciting prospect. Then Stephen and Tristan got to see the old house in all its emptiness; Stephen for the first time, and Tristan to say goodbye. It was a little sad.

Friday night was the big family dinner. We picked Ashley up from her Dad's and all of us, sin Mama, ate at a local diner that is older-people friendly. Stephen was amazing and charmed the socks off of every female there... including the ones under the age of 2 and the one over the age of 85. Then a night time hot-tub visit to my Aunt's house. Tristan got to hot-tub in his underwear. That was quite the exciting thing for a 6 year old boy. Again, we got home so very late.

Saturday was a trip to the approx 800ft underground Carlsbad Caverns. I had forgotten how lovely it is, and how much I enjoyed/enjoy such geek-y types of things. The cave decorations were as lovely as I remember them being. We walked the Big Room, which at it longest is just about a two mile walk. Tristan did wonderfully, only really getting tired during the last 10 minutes or so. Then fudge and cider (cherry non-alcoholic kind) and hometime.

Today Stephen and I began our week long trip to the grand canyon, beginning with shopping in Las Cruces, lunch (delicioso tapatillas de pescado y camaron con soda de Jarritos) and the Gila Wilderness. We are currently staying in a tiny (just a few casitas, but each one is relatively spacious) bed and breakfast in the Gila, and it is lovely. The cell phones don't work (nice for me) and there is high speed internet access (nice for Stephen). We originally planned to stay here 1 night, and head towards the Grand Canyon tomorrow... but it is so nice and there is so much to do that we have decided to stay here another day.

So far, Stephen has experienced hummingbirds and stink bugs for the first time. We are having elk with sweet vidalia onions, mexican squash, and purple potatoes for dinner, and he can continue to add to his list then.

We miss you all so much... but are happy to be alone in the wilderness for a bit. It's nice to spend time and just be in love. There have been no nightmares at all since he arrived.

The Big Day...

Good Morning!

Today I woke up in bed at Mom's house. Lovely breakfast of German pastries and tea. Time is passing slowly before airport craziness. Stephen arrives at 10:20 tonight. The clock is tick-tocking so slowly. I think it is delighting in tormenting me. Damn clock.

I suppose you want to know all the things that happened before this point...

On Monday, around 4 in the afternoon, the new moving company called me. They are a local company, and the lady I have been talking to (Julie... she who lets me vent and goes out of her way to make this a good experience for me, might have to name a child after her or something...) called me with good news and bad news. The good news: they had a cancellation for the next day, did I want it. YES!!! The bad news: they needed my passport in order to begin transporting my goods. My passport is currently in the British consulate in Las Angeles. ETA: Monday next. Oh well.

The result of the phone call was that I stayed up all night Tuesday night to get ready for the movers... and I half expected them not to show. But they did, bright and early. They were wonderful! Friendly, very careful with my things, I worked with the mother of one of the packers. We talked about books and the Rosetta Stone, and I bought them lunch. They finished up about 2:30. News on the moving front, with a half case, the estimate for moving went up to $5,200, not including insurance and port fees. But Julie was on the case, trying to find a way around it. Then it was last minute car packing, some books to Christine, and the trip to EL Paso, dinner with Mom, then a trip to my Mothers to drop off art and boxes. THEN, sleep. Not really good sleep - lots of nightmares about spiders. I consoled myself with the thought that I don't have to sleep alone anymore.

Did I mention that Julie is AWESOME? She called as I was writing this blog. They eliminated the half full case, and downsized it. She had a final total for me......

Wait for it.....

$4,488. Which includes all the insurance and port fees. The only thing it doesn't include is the cost to carry items up stairs, which should come out to less than $400. Yay! That is almost a thousand dollars less than I expected. Plus, she told me that I could just give them my full name and SSN and they would start the move without a copy of my passport. So it's official: my stuff is on its way to the UK. We will have furniture.

So today is full. Tune up for the car, finish at the old house, trip to the bank to pay for the move. Lovely. Pick Stephen up, lots of kisses, Chico's Tacos for dinner. Right this minute he is over the Atlantic Ocean. He arrives in Newark in about 2 hours. I wonder: did I sleep so poorly for being a bit nervous? Did he sleep poorly too?

Maybe a nap would help.

The Redcoats Are Coming! The Red... Wait, I Mean the Movers...

The Redcoat... I mean Stephen... arrives Wednesday night. I just spoke to him for the last time before I see him. Today is his last day of work at his old job, and last night was his last night sleeping in his old room. Tonight he heads to London to stay at his mum's to be closer to the airport the following morning.

And Tomorrow... THE MOVERS ARE COMING!!! They had an unexpected opening and they just so happened to squeeze me in. I got the call this afternoon... which means I have been running like a chicken sans head to get everything ready. I'm taking a break to post because I promised Dan there would be one tonight.

Its just SO busy. I hope to be able to take time to catch everyone up on Yard Sale Drama and the shocking British Consulate Secret... but it will have to wait. (HAHAHA! cliff hanger!)

to be continued...

These are the Days of Our Lives...

It has been 7 days since I last posted. I am now 1 year older than I was then. Stephen stayed up late so he could sing happy birthday to me the instant it was the morning of my birthday in England. He also called me his 'birthday beauty'. It is lovely to hear. His perfect gift to me: an Aloe Vera plant for our new house. He could not be any sweeter if he were made of honey.

7 days has found a lot of things happening. As of Tuesday, the moving company with which I have been working has decided that they are not capable of moving me or any of my things. That left Wednesday full of a desperate scramble to find another moving company, and to study for the final in my Spanish class, which I took this morning.

I have accepted the quote of a different moving company. This one is local here, and will be handling all aspects of the move overseas. The lady is SO nice, to the point of even letting me vent about the terribleness of the old moving company. Plus, she calls me back. Part of me wants to tell her that I love her. Except that it would just be the relief talking.

It turns out that this company has the possibility of being less expensive (yay!) and they are coming to evaluate a much more exact quote tomorrow morning. They have already scheduled to come and pack and load on the 21st of August. Stephen and I will be gone then, but THANK YOU!!!!! to Christie and Dan for being willing to be there in our stead. Things will be in good hands.

I'm still waiting to hear about Visas... but that should be soon. I start on the rest of the house today, need to have a last minute yard sale (anyone want to help?) maybe this weekend, have everything else done in the house by Wednesday when I pick Stephen up at the airport.

In only 6 days, we will be having Chico's Tacos for dinner, and all will be right with the world.

In the English neck of the woods, Stephen has been very busy moving from house to house. (He told me yesterday that he is totally capable of taking over my closet in addition to his own.) He packs bags and carries them, three a night or so. I admire his decision to walk things from place to place. Wish I could do it with the rest of our things. It might actually get done in a timely manner were I to. This weekend, he moves his bed and other big things, and I suppose it will be the pseudo-official move in time.

It is interesting to me how the ball keeps rolling even though it feels like nothing gets done. No matter how overwhelmed or stressed out I get, time passes. I'm glad.

Kind of Sad News...

I received an email from the University today. I was expecting it sooner rather than later, as the scholarship decision was to be made by the end of July.

I didn't get it.

I'm a little sad, but its ok. I have to keep in mind that I did my best, that my essay really did not suck at all, and that I had no way to know what it was they were looking for. I didn't beg for money. I didn't grovel. I just wrote the best possible essay I could. I have reason to be proud.

I can always try again next year, and I will. But I still won't grovel or beg.

Tristan has started expressing his sadness at our moving. He will miss me, he says, and I know I'll miss him. I have to drop what I'm doing every now and again and just hold him. I feel like I need to breathe deeply of him so I can remember his smell, hold him so very tight so I can remember what he feels like in my arms. I'm excited, and yet so sad at the same time. It feels like my heart is being ripped apart. I cry too often, and sometimes I don't even realise that I'm crying until the tears are silently dripping off of my nose. This is hard. I remind myself that I'm doing the right thing.

No news on movers yet - no dates scheduled. I have moved past anything productive into impotent, temper-tantrum rage.

On a brighter note, Stephen will be here in 13 days! There's a spot in his arms with my name on it. Maybe then it will be easier to let everything out, because I won't be alone in my house of disarray.

Which do you Want First?

Bad News: I'm sick. Pathetic, whiney, curl up in a ball, hot then cold then hot then cold, all I want to do is sleep, want to be held sick. I cried twice today for no appreciable reason. Stephen lay on his bed and pretended to curl around me so I could close my eyes and pretend that I was lying there so I wouldn't be so pathetic. I don't know how he puts up with me. Sometimes it amazes me how good he is to me. I don't think I would be nearly as good to myself.

Bad News: Movers suck. We are now at 7 days late, and they still do not have any idea when anyone will be here. @!*#'s.

Good News: We have a house! That's right, Stephen has the keys to our lovely flat in his hot little hands. It takes a huge load off to know that there is some place for us to live. 2 bedrooms, plus a funkily shaped study, a kitchen with a refrigerator that is bigger than a breadbox, and a washer/ dryer. Heaven. It's on the third floor (To us Americans, that means the fourth floor, but I am learning Brit speak now.) It's close to the train that Stephen no longer has to take to work, and is about a mile away from Ashley's school, my school, and Stephen's new work. Walking distance. His mum is already bringing us furniture. She is lovely. I can't wait to meet her.

Additional things of note: Applied for Visas yesterday. Confirmed that the British Consulate received my package of important documents. Reserved rooms at the Grand Canyon for mine and Stephen's mini vacation. After visiting 4 pharmacies, found the important condiment for the important prescription. Had horrid photos taken for the visas. But on a happier note, Kelley sent me a photo that doesn't suck. I think I'll share.

Insert Expletive Here...

This has been an ongoing thing since the last post. And I am almost too angry to even write about it.

I just had to go beg and plead to have my move out date rescheduled. I now owe an additional month's rent, and must interrupt my precious pre-leaving the country family time in order to go and check out of my house. Why? Why, you ask?

Because the bleeping movers need at least an additional 10 days in order to simply schedule me! Not only this, but they can't guarantee that 10 days will be enough. They won't even guarantee that they will come and move me EVER!!!

I'm just so mad. madmadmadmadmad. GRRRR!!!!!

I have no idea when they will move me. And now I'm spending additional money because they can't get their act together. And I suppose it should be ok, since money grows on trees and all...

My goal: the additional I have to pay to stay here had better come out of what I have to pay them. I'll be calling supervisors today.