You Say I'm not Patriotic?

You may consider yourself lucky, if you will.

I value the joy that is voting, perhaps more than I should. (So some would say.) I proved it this week.

I am still registered to vote in New Mexico, therefore I have to request and vote via an absentee ballot. Not a big deal, one would think. But in all actuality... let's just say that no one can call me unpatriotic and tell me that I don't love my country. Here's what happened.

My absentee ballot came with an affidavit of electronic transmission, which stated that I understood that I was giving up my right to a secret ballot, that I really was eligible to vote, and that I wouldn't show up on election night and try to vote again. I understand that this is to protect my vote from some sneaky vote-stealer who might try to pretend that they are me on election day, but it is an annoyance that I have to have this form notarised.

Notarising a document is actually not that big a deal in the States. You go to the bank. You sign up and wait a bit until the notary comes and does their thing. They don't charge you anything at all if you go to your bank.

Here, it's a bit different. Granted, the US Embassy will notarise documents for US citizens for free. But that involves missing a day of work or of school, plus the cost of the train, plus the cost of the tube since the Embassy is in London. Not really much of an option. Then I discovered that there are notaries in England too. BUT... notaries are a type of lawyer. They do sign documents, but they charge you lawyer fees also.

So I had a choice to make. I could pay about £50 and miss work/school to go to London to get the affidavit notarised, I could pay about £50 to go to the notary to get it notarised, or I could just not vote. Some, perhaps, would have chosen not to vote. But like I said earlier, voting is important to me. So I went to the notary.


This photo was taken in the waiting room at the lawyer's office. These are yearly additions and clarifications to the law code. This bookcase went from the floor to the ceiling, and there was another one just like it across the room, partially full of these books. The books are more current and in better condition at the bottom of the case, and the last book in this case was from 1974. The books at the top of the shelf were obviously old and falling apart. Some of them were so old that I could not read the dates. But I could read the date on the first book in the case... 1864.

I was a little shocked. Were they decorative? Another case in the room was full of signs. Old building signs with the law firms name on them. Maybe 7 or 8 of them. And some of them were extremely old also. So I asked the receptionist, who told me that this law firm has been in existence since 1864. Wow.

The notary was very old and very sweet. He had me hold a bible in my hands while I swore that I really was who I said I was. He wrote that his commission to be a notary expires on his death. And he tried so very hard not to ask who I was voting for. I could tell he was dying to know. He mentioned that he wasn't asking more than once. And when a different secretary came in to take me to pay for his time, and she flat-out asked me; he expressed sadness that they weren't allowed to ask as he told her off for asking me. (I did tell them. My ballot wasn't private anyway, and pretty much everyone knows who I am voting for, so it wasn't as though it were going to be a secret. And boy, did it make him happy. I think he might have been waiting for an American to come in just so he could talk about the election.)

Going to pay was an experience too. It was raining, and the finance department was in some other building. So she picked up an umbrella and I followed her. It took about 5 minutes to get there, through side streets and in front of what looked like houses. The grounds were lovely, though the paths were narrow and some had high walls on either side, so there really was no room for me to share the umbrella. She talked about how miserable it is in England, and how she wants desperately to move to Florida. (I don't know what it is about Florida. Every Brit that I have talked to, when talking about going to the US to visit or to live, talks about Florida. Florida is NOT THAT GREAT!) I asked her whose houses we were passing, to be told that they were not houses, they were offices for the lawyers that worked for this firm. The whole area was the law office. I had no idea that it was that huge. Perhaps a 6 or 7 minute walk from one side to the next. Wow.

After paying, I walked home in the drizzle, and it was so pretty. The trees are changing colour, and it dawned on me that I hadn't yet taken pictures to show all of you. I wanted you to see things while they were green, so I took some pictures with my phone on the way home.


This is the view from the first bridge that I have to cross to get home. The river is called the River Stour, and it splits into two at one side of the town, flows through the town, then meets back up with itself on the other side of town. The bridge is a footbridge, and this is the large part of the river. Perhaps thigh deep at places, but mostly knee deep. The white splotch in the middle is a young swan that moved in this summer and doesn't yet have a mate.


This is the path on the other side of the bridge. At night, this path is a little too creepy for me to walk along by myself. The tree overhang the path and it is very dark. But during the day it is beautiful, and perhaps my favourite part of the walk home. The foliage to the sides are mostly stinging nettles, but there are blackberry bramble growing among it, and these trees are elder, so there are lots of berries to pick on this part of the walk in the summer.


This is the building that our house is in, taken from further down the street. Our flat is the one with the hanging planters on the balcony. So yes, we are on the top floor. I like it. Good exercise going up and down the steps, and an attic for storage.


And last but not least, this is the view of our street looking out of the French doors and over our fake balcony. You can see the misty grey of the sky from the rain. It was a lovely walk home.

Religion and Politics

By the way, Amy said yesterday (she actually spoke these words within hearing distance of me, so don't scan down the page thinking you missed her 'blogging this comment) that a 'blog shouldn't contain views on religion or politics, as she didn't want readers offended. (Amy says: I actually had three things on my list. Politics, religion, and sex. Thank goodness he only talked about the first two, I suppose!)

Do you know how sorely tempted I am to now post about religion or politics? Especially as I have such strong views that will no doubt offend the majority of readers!!

Of course, that would take my valuable time, and require me to actually post to the 'blog, which is something you all know I don't do.

So, do me a favour.

Delve into your deepest beliefs about religion and politics...

... take a moment to clarify in your mind the exact nature of your beliefs and opinions...

... add them all together into a single entity that uniquely defines you...

Now, (to be fair, probably all of you) realise you are totally wrong. Your beliefs are ridiculous. Your opinions laughable and self-contradictory. There are fundamental facts and clear irrefutable evidence that prove that what you think is right, is actually wrong. The very core of your life up to this point that has been influenced by these thoughts should be carefully gathered up, taken out back, and humanely put down like an old blind sheepdog. You need to reassess your beliefs or opinions, and this could well take you the rest of your short life to do so. Even then you might never get it right.

But, I'm a caring person. I don't want the rest of your life to be the waste that your life up to this point has been. You've done me a favour, saved me the time by gathering up your own beliefs and destroying them to save me the effort, so I am going to save you time also. You don't have to spend the rest of your life fighting to work out the truth. I'm going to let you share my thoughts and beliefs instead. If anyone asks your opinion, just say you agree with Stephen.

There you go, don't you feel better now, knowing you're finally right?

Tweets - Our aggregated Twitter feeds

The observant regular reader may have noticed that there is a new 'block' on the right-hand side of this 'blog labelled Tweets.

For those curious as to what this is, let me explain.

I recently attended a 'Handheld Learning' conference where I was persuaded (against my better judgement) to get a Twitter account. Twitter is a micro-blogging service with multiple input channels, designed specifically to allow mini updates to be submitted. Twitter has a 140 character limit on each update, that phone text/sms messages are often limited to 140 characters is not a coincidence - Twitter updates can be submitted via sms, the twitter website, as well as a variety of other 3rd party applications.

As I generally don't spend much time writing to my 'blogs (I have four that I regularly don't use), I never really saw the point of having a micro-blog to ignore also. However I was pleasantly surprised, a micro-blog does not serve the same function as a 'blog, and is actually far better suited to the needs of those of us who don't have the time (or are too lazy) to 'blog 'properly'.

The 'rules' of micro-blogging are also significantly different. There isn't the space for a lengthy meandering trail of ones inner thoughts and angst. No time for long deep, dark, poetry that truly reveals the value of one's inner soul as having more merit than the cruel word gives it credit*. Instead a twitter update is supposed to be a short, punchy, to-the-point response to the question "What are you doing?"

Yes, there may be a tendancy to update too much on what one is thinking as opposed to actively doing, but as space is limited, you the reader don't have to put up with too much inner reflection - phew!

Also, if one 'follows' other twitter users (I follow several that work in a similar field to my own), you get some insight into what they are up to, a nice way to keep up with colleagues, friends, or even the awesome Stephen Fry**.

Right, so I've told you what Twitter is, but there's still that thing on the right that may need explaining. Amy, Ashley, and myself now have Twitter accounts. Amy thought it would be a good idea to import the latest 5 updates from each of us to display on the 'blog. Amy found some code that did it, and she pasted it into the site, all well and good. I decided however that it wasn't good enough. I wanted to take the three individual and separate twitter feeds and merge them into a single list. I wanted to have them appear in true mixed reverse date order rather than sorted by author before date. It wasn't too difficult to do, at least not at first. It worked in Firefox, then I found it didn't work in IE. I fixed it for IE, then it didn't work in Safari. Then I fixed it in Safari and one of our regular readers DARED tell me it didn't work in IE or Firefox for them. I checked, it does work, it works for me. If you the reader are having any problems, it's either the fault of your computer, or your eyes.

So, to summarise, the Tweets 'block' on the left contains the latest 15 Twitter updates from Amy, Ashley, and myself (5 each). There's a chance we might actually Twitter more than 5 times in a day, so if you don't want to miss out on our 140 character comments on the nature of existance, the taste of our dinner, or the colour of the sky, you'll have to visit this 'blog several times a day.

*You know that the cruel world is right, don't you? You don't have a soul. That thing you think is a soul is just your inner voice that's too terrified to realise that the universe is a huge place and your role within it is insignificant. So your poetry is ultimately futile, and your time spent writing it wasted. That time spent can not be recovered, you pointlessly wrote yourself closer to death. Deal with it!

**If you don't know who he is, you should be ashamed of yourself!

Wuv... Twue Wuv...

Firstly, I want to point out that I am completely head-over-heels in love.

Well, yes, with Stephen, but that was not who I was talking about. I was talking about Jamina (as I have named her.)

Jamina is a giraffe.
To be specific, she is an Anne-claire Petit giraffe that sits behind the window of the BabyLove shop that we walk past all the time. I love her. She NEEDS to come home with me. This is not a want - she says they do not feed her behind that glass window, and that no one loves her the way that I already do.

I have spoken to Girard, (my resident male alpha-giraffe who makes quite a good living as a doctor and who wishes me to point out that not only is he rich, but he is also quite cool as he has only 1 ear pierced and wears a groovy hoop in) and he has decided that he will marry Jamina. JoJo (my much smaller and newer male not-alpha giraffe) disagreed and stated that any female giraffe would be his for the taking; but quickly changed his mind after Girard head-butted and bit him a few times. There was much giraffe grumbling for a few days following said conversation, but it has gotten better.

Oh, but the agony! You see, for all that I NEED to bring Jamina home, I just can't bring myself to frivolously part with the money to do so. And it is an interesting thing, the UK tends to frown on shoplifting. Goodness knows I can't stand to be frowned upon by matronly English women. They are seriously scary when they frown like that. So for now, Jamina the wonderful English lady giraffe sits locked behind a glass window, Girard gripes at me to hurry up and bring his wife home, and JoJo pouts about not being an alpha-giraffe. Maybe someone will rescue her in my name for Christmas and all will be right in the giraffe world again.

Secondly, there are lots of exciting things happening with our family blog. Stephen, the computer deity, has added the sidebar with our Twitter feeds. Right now it is just mine and his, but I suspect Ashley may be adding one in a few days time also. Then you can see what the whole family is saying at any moment.

I want to say a few things about this that I consider to be a phenomenon. I have known of Twitter for a bit: I read some other blogs that have Twitter feeds on them. I, to be frank, thought they were silly. Micro-blogging seemed like a bit of a waste of time. But Stephen, after attending this year's Hand-held Learning Conference last week in London,

(yes, *moan* I was abandoned for three days! Woe! Woe is me!)

came home not only with a Twitter account, but excited about it and something else he called 'picto-chatting' on his hand-held video game device thingie. (Don't ask me which one, I can't remember. The name has a DS in it, it is rectangular and black, and you can write on it with a special pen. It has sudoku. And 'picto-chatting', apparently.) He told me basically that, if I want to read what he writes, I had better get my own account. So I did. And to be honest, I love it.

Writing a blog is a huge deal, requiring lots of planning and lots of time. I usually start them a few days before in a separate file and add to them as I go. If I sit down to write one from nothing, I can count on a few hours slipping by while I write, rewrite, and edit. Micro-blogging takes me maybe 30 seconds! Which means that I can do it more than once during the day without losing a lot of time. Time is a commodity with me lately, especially while I try to write papers and finish this degree.

If you want a Twitter of your own, follow the link on the side. It won't lead you directly to us, but if you want my Twitter info, and I know you, email or message me and I'll give you details.

And finally, the actual stuff that is going on with us. Because I know this is really what you wanted to know anyway and the rest is just you all putting up with my inability to shut my mouth.

The linen closet is still leaking. It is now leaking badly enough that we have put a 10 gallon trashcan under it and we must change it 3 to 4 times a day. We have started turning off the water in the house at night because it was overflowing by the time we got up in the morning, even after emptying right before crawling into bed. We now have the plumber's direct number, so Monday perhaps we can get ahold of him and get it solved.

Stephen has been sick since he got back from London last week. Poor him, running a fever of 101 and being all yucky. He stayed home from work, which I think was a good thing. He had a cold a few weeks before that, too... and I haven't been sick. Last year was a terrible year for me health wise, and I am so very glad to see that my immune system has gotten itself picked up and back into shape. I really want to stay healthy.

Ashley has a new boyfriend, which I see she has neglected to tell any of you. His name is Michael and thus far he seems to be fairly gentlemanly. Last night I overheard him telling her off because she was putting her required amount of study off until the last minute. He told her she was being lazy. Considering that previous beaus didn't really care if Ash studied, I am very grateful that this one is pushing her to do well. Of course, I haven't made my mind up entirely... I reserve the right to continually evaluate him. She is, after all, my little girl.

The weather has been pleasant, though it is easy to tell that we are heading through fall and into winter. The leaves have started changing colour on the trees. The sun rises later and sets earlier, and the wind is cold in my ears. I have moments where I am absolutely swept away by the beauty of where I am living. I am very blessed and very grateful for my life right now. I still miss my Boo-bear, though.

Dinner for Stephen's birthday went wonderful. The food was perfect. The house was completely clean, and smelled lovely. (I LOVE smudging. I used white sage, and it worked brilliantly.) It was crowded, but went very well. The company was very nice too. Stephen's nephews have grown so much. It was nice to have little ones around.

Stephen's mum had a lovely little Spanish fan that she used when the house overheated, and I liked it. The way she would let it fall open with a practised flick of the wrist was beautiful, as was the fan itself. I mentioned that I would love to have one, and asked if she would be willing to pick one up for me the next time she went to Spain. Instead she sent one home with Stephen when he came back from his conference. I have been practicing opening it so that I can be as beautiful as she is when she does it. I'm not convinced I ever will be, though. She has had her whole life steeped in the culture that created those movements, and it shows. I am, and ever will be, a foreigner to the movements of the fan.