OH! The wether outside's delightful...

But my family is so frightful;
His pants are pulled way down low,
Let us go
Have a blow
In the snow!




The flight was shit, but we got here alive if not well. Pirate has a nasty cold, not at all improved by 9 1/2 hours in a middle seat that didn't recline, had no legroom, and was surrounded by screaming babies. I hope he made them sick.

On the plus side, there was a foot of snow on the ground when we landed and it's been coming down almost continually since. WHITE CHRISTMAAAAAAAAS! It's fucking freezing, but that's all the better to snuggle you with my dear. The mattress in my brother's guest room is the best i've ever slept on in my LIFE. It was like sleeping on a cloud. At 5 am I got Pirate to promise to buy me one. w00t. It's a Simmon's Beautyrest.

And now we're just alternating between shovelling the sidewalk every 30 minutes and eating ourselves into a stupor.

Merry crimbo, mis amigos.

Back in the USS...A?

Pirate and I are leaving tonight for the Land of W (soon to be the Land of O). I don't know when I'll be back, because I have to get my spousal visa while I'm there, and the British Consulate give absolutely no indication of how long that takes. It might take 2 days, in which case I'll be coming home with Pirate on January 3rd, or it might take 6 weeks, in which case I'll be missing my own 30th Birthday/Innauguration joint party. I have no idea.

It's going to be an absolutely manic holiday, what with travelling to Wisconsin to visit my brother, fighting the snow on the roads and airports, PIRATE'S parents flying over from England to spend a week with my family, Bridesmaid Vi, husband Wally, son Smally Wally and Big Wally's parents all visiting from Massachusetts during the same week the Pirates-in-law will around, and my visa excitement thrown in on top of that. Blogging may or may not occur. Most likely I'll lurk and read your blogs when I get a few quiet minutes to myself, but I don't know that I'll have the ambition to write much.

Unless I'm in desperate need of catharsis, which is always a possibility.

And at FN's request, here is a photo for your enjoyment:



Merry Christmas, y'all!

To all my British colleagues:

HAPPY INDEPENDENCE DAY, MOTHERFUCKERS!

*sheepishly*

And, um, can we come back? Please?

Easter Update

Well that was fun.

Actually, it was a rather nice week, just exhausting. My future mother in law has a golden retriever-like desire to please, and the energy to match. The woman never stops moving. Just being in a room with her wears you out. Mom and the FIL (Father In Law, obv) got on fine, and never stopped talking. Not for one minute. The conversation flowed like the Ganges, without repetition, deviation, or hesitation.*

The worst part of the weekend was the drive up, which took twice as long as it normally does thanks to holiday traffic and was a very grumpy and miserable experience for the Pirate, who was driving.

The rest of the weekend went by in a blur of sight-seeing and food. The MIL does not. stop. cooking. Ever. And you're not allowed to finish a meal. She's constantly pushing more food in your face and insisting you eat more. The woman doesn't take 'no' for an answer. We sat at the dining table for 3 meals a day. Breakfast was croissants, fruit, cereal, coffee, tea, toast, yogurt, toast, cereal, jam, eggs, and juice. Lunch was a hot meal, and came with dessert! Then there was tea, which naturally involved cakes. Then there was dinner, which came with another dessert!

We'll be living on steamed veggies and brown rice for the rest of the week.

Oh, and the in-laws STILL don't let Pirate and me sleep in the same room, which sucks. I'll give the mater credit for this much: she orchestrated it so we could have some time alone in the house together, which was really really nice. We seriously needed that. We used the time to play video games (Medieval Total War) and finish the model of Stone Henge I started at Christmas. And to mess my hair up, naturally.

But there were no explosive rows. Only a strained awkwardness when it became apparent during conversation that FIL doesn't believe in global climate change, and believes that if it is happening there's nothing we can do about it so there's no reason for him to give up his Jag and 2 Aston Martins. Tosser.

Now the mater and I are working full time at wedding planning. Finding shoes has become the crisis du jour.



*that's a Radio4 joke. See how sophisticated** I've become?


**middle class

Wesolego Alleluja!

Off to the in-laws with my mom to celebrate Easter. Pirate and I are picking her up at the airport tomorrow (Good Friday) and heading oop north. This is going to be interesting.

Full report on Tuesday. In the meantime, enjoy the Peep show.

It's time now for...

PENGUINS!!!

I promise that I will get the video of the penguin sex off Pirate as soon as possible and post it up here. It's ace. (The couple above aren't actually in the throes; they're just napping. Possibly after he was done he didn't bother to roll off before he fell asleep. She doesn't seem to mind, though. I don't either.)

Almost there

Hi all!

I'm still in Capetown, but Pirate and I are leaving tonight. I'll be back in the UK tomorrow morning, and probably begin all the back blogging on Sunday or Monday. I have some great stories to share, including videos of

• Hot hot penguin-on-penguin action
• My baptism by full immersion into Pirate's cricket club

And of course, lots of lovely photos. I can't wait to share it all with you. Not much longer now, I promise.

Oh, and here's one more teaser: we're going this afternoon to pick up...

MY WEDDING RING! (Gold and diamonds being much cheaper in SA than the UK)

Ciao for now, my dahlinks! *Muah!*

Coast Guard Rescue

Shit, where do I begin???

Sorry for the loooooooong hiatus. I didn't have much time for blogging while oop north at the (future) in-laws, and then I got back and was busy and then,

well, you know how sometimes the more daunting a task is the longer you put it off, but it only gets more and more daunting? it's kind of like that. i wanted to tell you every wonderful little marvelous details of everything that happened, and I couldn't face the enormity of it, and so I wrote nothing at all. Not too clever, I know.

So here's the synopsis:

(and thanks for bugging me. knowing that people were checking in on me and wondering what the fuck was going on was the motivation i needed, so thanks very much to everyone who left me nagging comments about falling overboard!)

Had a fabulous time over Christmas with Pirate and his folks. Ate till it was impossible to distinguish me from the Great White Whale, and then washed it all down with another mince pie. And champers. Fucking 'ell, I drank more Champaigne in the week from Christmas to New Years than I have in my entire night cumulative. Actually, I think I drank more Champagne the first night we arrived than I had in my entire life cumulative, and just kept building up the record from there. There were dinner parties and toasts and more toasts and a few more toasts and a few more parties. Pirate and I got loads of engagement pressies, which was lovely. Pirate's parents bought us a bunch of really nice (400 thread count) King size bed linens! Ooh, those are going to be so nice to sleep in! There was also lots of Boggle, Scrabble, and reading taking place, as well as walks in the drippy countryside and strolling through villages. A lovely way to pass the holidays.

On the wedding front, things are finally getting hammered down. I can now confirm that we will be getting Married in Bristol at St. Mary Redcliffe Church on (probably) Sept. 5, 2008. (Warning: that link plays music.) We have the venue for the reception narrowed down to 3 possibilities, and will hopefully have a decision on that by the end of the week. The problem is that Pirate has just been sent to Germany for the week, so I'm rather left hanging at the moment.

boy, writing that it doesn't seem like much happened, but honestly, i've been up to my ass in aligators. well, back to it i suppose.

Ooh, I almost forgot to mention (but a certain commenter remembered), my birthday was this weekend. I am 29 for the first time. It was a good day. We met with the vicar and made arrangements for the wedding, so that was fun.

High seas blogging

Hi all! I'm blogging from the high seas, being tossed and turned and tumbled in family, food, and affection. Mrs. Pirate hasn't left the galley since we arrived, and the edibles have been endless. Pirate is currently trying to get his little brother's old dinghy in working order so we can go for a bit of exercise in the cold sunshine and shed a few calories in the process, but it appears to be a lost cause; i don't think the little craft has been water-tight for years. It's more than a morning's work to get operational.

We sailed up on Friday in Pirate's big, splashy classic yacht, and after leaving the fog in Brizzle had clear water the whole way. Mr. and Mrs. Pirate were ecstatic to see us, and after raising several toasts to everything Mr. Pirate could think to name, the two of us (Pirate and his mum being teatotal) drowned the majority of the ship's supply of bubbly rum. We nearly burnt the ship down that evening in an attempt to roast some chestnuts, but after some quick action on the Pirate's part there were only a few singed sails to tell the tail.

I've been sleeping like a rock in the big double hammock in the guest saloon, rocked gently each night by the movement of the vessel, and Pirate has completely abandoned the moratorium on non-married people sleeping together and has crawled into my hammock every night. Thus far a very successful visit indeed.

Tomorrow we are all sailing north to the paternal gran's port, where there will be a big clan gathering, roast turkey, and pressies galore. Stay tuned for the swashbuckling update!

The present dilemma

What do you do when you get a really really rediculous Christmas present that you don't want and for which you have no use, that you could exchange for something genuinely useful, but you don't want to hurt the feelings of the giver (who think they got you the greatest present on earth) and there's a reasonable chance that if you swapped it, the giver would find out (call it a 30% chance)? Christmas politics: ack!

Halloween

The day began well enough with a light boxing session. I like waking up in the morning and beating the crap out of people. What a great way to start your day. Sooooo much better than coffee!

Then on to rowing: I got soft and got a lift to the boathouse instead of cycling the 11 miles each way like I usually do, and had a light outing in a scull. Only did about 9k owing to recovering from Sunday's disasterous back pain, but on the final leg i hollered to my team mate "Oi! Wanna race back to the pontoon?!" So we did. It was only about 700m, but I kicked her ass and that felt good.

Concluded the day here, with Pirate and good friend, Welsh Cake. I don't think Pirate enjoyed himself very much -- not really his thing apparently -- but the Cake and I had a good time. And hey, there was free ginger cake. What's not to love? So no candy, no dressing up, and no trick-or-treating, but ghost stories by candlelight in a medieval crypt (with ginger cake). Not a bad trade-off, really.

How was your Halloween?

Um, hi guys

*all conversations suddenly stop while CB timidly pokes her head through the swinging doors of the interwebs*

I'm back.

That was some piss-poor piss-taking, my friends. Thanks to all who participated; you cracked me up. The prize goes to Dave, whom I already owe some non-burnt scones anyway.

To answer the burning question on everyone's mind, no, Pirate didn't propose. :-(
But the m-word was discussed, and we had a lovely holiday, declared it a success, and agreed to do it again sometime. (There's talk of going to South Africa next February.)

Right now I'm doing laundry and watering my plants, but there will be details of the trip forthcoming at some point. I'm reluctant to write much at this point because it would be so much better illustrated, but I accidently left my camera in Preston with Mr. and Mrs. Pirate. Grrrr. So I will post details and photos as soon as I have retrieved the necessary electronics, probably sometime next week.

I will, however, say this much:

High Points:

• the weather (in Scotland. I know. It's amazing.)
• Marcus Brigstocke
  
• the food -- we ate like kings for a week
• golden eagles and house martins
• lack of parental Pirates
• Fringe central
  

Points of a lower elevation than high:

• getting locked in the porto-loo outside the Udderbelly
• HENDRIX CAT STOOD ME UP!!!!! (no, she didn't, she just got busy and had to cancel. boo-hoo!)
• Lack of sleep becuase Pirate is teething
• Food poisoning (hey, it wouldn't be a holiday without a touch of food poisoning!)

how are you all? did anything exciting happen while I was away? are Billy and Llewtrah tying the knot yet? Has LC come out of the closet? Is FN running for president? (FN and HomoE in 2008!) Has Annie Rhiannon been cast to play herself in the film biopic of her life? Catch me up on the latest, please. I can't be bothered to read 10 days of back blogs.

I am going

where am i going?

Away.

Not forever. Just for a couple weeks.

Pirate and I are taking our first ever proper holiday together. We are going up to his parents' house near Preston for a couple days (so he can get in a couple games of cricket at his old hometown club, where he learned cricket as a mere sprog), and then we are going...


to...



Edinburgh!!!


We'll be a few days in the burgh of Edin, and then we're spending a couple days at a farm in the middel of nowhere, out in the countryside, where we cannot hear cars
or sirens
or shitehawks
or drunk people
or shitehawks
or the tittybar downstairs
or the drunk people chasing the shitehawks outside the tittybar downstairs.

All I want to hear at night, just for a couple nights, is crickets, cattle lowing, and nightengales. And maybe owls. Owls are ok, too.

Peace. and. quiet.

I can't wait. I will bring you excellent stories of broken beds in B&B's when I return. And there may possibly be a blogmeet, if the lovely and vibrant Hendrix Cat can arrange her schedule. Updates in a couple weeks, peeps!

Fare thee weel, my luve!

Song of Innocence

I almost didn't notice that today is the Fourth of July. You would think that for a cheerful expat happily living in the country from which America violently liberated itself over 200 years ago Independence Day would be a day of shame and regret, not pride and joy. And yet...

I don't have a lot of political associations with the day, but I do have a lot of memories of intense happiness, innocence, and frivolity. I LOVE the Fourth of July. For years it was my favorite holiday. The Fourth for me is a bit like Christmas is for people like, well, like me. The original intent of the holiday has been all but forgotten, but that doesn't negate the joy brought about by family traditions and celebrations.

This is what the Fourth of July was like in days of yore...


I grew up in a small city neighborhood. It was a dead-end street on the south end of town comprised of 23 homes and as many huge silver maple trees lining the street. The houses were built in the 1920s, and each home was unique. It was a quiet street, and as kids we used to sit on the porch in the summer eating watermelon and cherries (we weren't allowed to eat fruit in the house -- we lived in an agricultural state and fresh produce in the summer was so sweet and juicy you couldn't eat it without making a huge mess) and have contests to see who could spit their seeds the fartherst. There were no cars except the residents and the occassional idiot who thought he could use our street as a shortcut to dodge two sets of traffic lights, and would get really annoyed when he would discover the dead end. We thought this was endlessly funny and used to point and giggle and these directionally-challenged people (who invariably drove big huge Lincolns or Caddies and drove at 6 mph).

It was a close-knit neighboorhood, too. By the time I was 7 I knew every person on the street and they all knew me. Same went for all the kids. Most of the grown-ups worked either at the local utility (like my dad) or were teachers.* Us kids were allowed to play in most anyone's yard (we knew who the exceptions were), and if anything went wrong we would be looked after by whoever was nearest at hand. By the same token, if we ever misbehaved we were certain to be caught and recognized and a phonecall made to mom and dad before we even managed to get home.

*One year when the public school teachers threatened to strike our neighborhood had a little meeting and decided it wasn't a big deal because among them there was someone amply qualified to teach every subject at every level, so they were just going to open a neighborhood school and go at it the old-fashioned way. I always was bummed that the teachers' union managed to sort their problems out, because I reckon a neighborhood school would have vastly superior to the Catholic Prison I was attending at the time.

There were regular parties and get-togethers throughout the year. A "Progressive Dinner" at Christmastime, when each course would be served at a different home (no kids at that one), a corn roast on Labor Day to celebrate the harvest, a Graffiti Party on July 3 (more about that later perhaps), and the big one on the 4th.

The custom was that the newest residents on the street were put in charge of organizing the thing, which gauranteed that they had to meet everyone on the block and get involved. ("Welcome to the neighborhood! Guess what!") It was our equivalent of a hazing ritual, but it worked. And let me tell you, there were logistics to be worked out. (Though to be fair the 4th of July block party had been going on so long pretty much everyone knew their assigned role and did it whether or not the newbie organizers thought of it.)

• Bob had to arrange for and collect and set up the barricades so the street could be closed off to traffic. (This was important because of the fireworks at the park in the evening. If we didn't close off the street it became a giant parking lot by sunset.) It was his job because he was the only one with a pickup.
  
• The bed-grill had to be dug out and set up.
• Someone had to buy a dozen bags of charcoal, 50 pounds of chicken quarters, and 2 gallons of BBQ sauce
• Someone had to arrange for, pick up, and tap the keg. (Technically open containers of alcohol are not legal on municipal property, which the "islands" were, but one of the residents was the county deputy sherrif, and he knew that no one ever got drunk, misbehaved, or served alcohol to a minor, so he didn't care. Although the minors did have to serve the beer. We were glorified gofers, and I leared to pull a pint at the age of 8.)
• Someone had to get plastic cups, plates, cutlery, and napkins.
• Someone had to bring out a big washtub for the pop cans and enough ice to last that day.
• Someone had to get prizes for the kids' bike parade and make up silly awards ("Best use of pink streamers," "Best one-handed riding," that sort of thing.)
• Someone had to get a giant pile of sawdust from the local lumber yard and a bazillion pennies to dump in it
• Someone had to procure 2 big watermelons and hide them the night before, along with a trail of clues leading to their location. This was usually done at the graffiti party by our intoxicated parents the night before, and I can remember years when the clues were written and hidden when the poor volunteer had had a few too many, and the following day the clues didn't make any sense and the hider and forgotten where he'd hid the melons. Good times. :-)
• And of course there needed to be water balloons. And tug of war (over a plastic wading pool, naturally.) And sack races. etc. And prizes for all of the above.
• And everyone had to bring a passing dish to share. Joanne made the best baked beans in the history of the world.
  

There was an order to the festivities, an almost ritual-like adherence to tradition. The day started as soon a my brother and I awoke. Invariably it was a hot, sunny day. The pavement burned our bare feet (but who wears shoes when schoool's out?), and the grass was already getting prickly and dry. I insisted on wearing red, white, and blue every year. Marley (my brother) couldn't have cared less. The first order of business after a nourishing breakfast of whatever we could scavenge (usually Chef Boyardee and purple Kool Aid) was to decorate our bikes.

If dad hadn't already bought enough red, white, and blue crepe paper and scotch tape he got yelled at and had to rectify the situation immediately. I used to spend hours in the drive way covering every inch of my bike in the crinkly, patriotic toilet paper. Every bit of frame, streamers from the handle bars, and we'd weave it in and out of the spokes so the wheels were solid colors as well. If we were feeling especially ambitious we add things like pinwheels, action figures (G.I. Joe of course) or stuffed animals (in my case).

The hours between the completion of our two-wheeled modern art projects and the parade that began the party were the slowest hours of the year. Marley was a much calmer child, but I couldn't wait for things to get underway. I would run around the street making a nuissance of myself and trying to help everyone with everything and all the setting up. Slowly around lunch time people would being drifting out towards the center island with their lawn chairs and drink holders. Eventually, after a sizeable crowd had gathered, someone would give the signal for the kids to get their bikes, and...

... they're off!

Around and around we'd go, doing laps of the circular course until whichever dad was in charge that year had managed to formulate rediculous awards for us all. We would be called to a halt, line up our bikes neatly, stand at attention, and wait for our names. One by one we came forth, grinned at whatever corny honor was betowed upon us, accepted our brown paper goody bag with glee, and shook the hand of the presenter. The grown-ups clapped, and we took one more lap to give everyone a final opportunity to admire our patriotic velociped creations. And then we ran off to look at our loot and begin swapping the stuff we didn't want.

A variety of games then followed, including the water-balloon toss, which was remarkable organized. Dad used to bring out the water balloons in the wheelbarrow, all brightly jiggling in the hot yellow sunglight, a bouncing rainbow of cool wetness and squeaking rubber. Play proceeded as follows: Get a partner. Stand toe-to-toe along a chalk line in the road, all the pairs standing shoulder to shoulder. Pass the water balloon to your partner. Take a step backwards. Each time to throw the balloon, take another step. Keep passing the balloon back and forth between you, getting incrementally further apart. The pair who makes it the fartherst without breaking their balloon wins.

You wouldn't believe how much fun this is. And it's as much fun to watch as it is to play. When it gets down to 2 or three pairs the crowd starts going nuts and everyone yells "Oh!" when someone barely saves their balloon from breaking and the cringing runs through the spectators like a Mexican wave.

Slowly the game degernates into a free-for-all, with the remaining balloons being used in guerilla attacks and snowball-like water wars. My god those were the days.

Eventually it's time for dinner, and 4x8 sheets of plywood are set up on the saw horses to make buffet tables. Everyone brings out their folding card tables and plastic patio furntiure, someone has been slaving over a hot bed of coals (literally) for hours burning the chicken until it's perfect (perfectly black) which is now presented in a giant tub, and the kids are sent to wash their hands. The buffet becomes full of nacho salad, seven layer salad, potato salad, pasta salad, baked beans, fruit salad, and cole slaw. We all help ourselves to whatever we want and sit down somewhere, maybe with our own family, maybe at someone else's table.

Now, there is a particular order to the after-dinner games. The penny scramble is the last game of the day, but there's no point in doing that until all the kids have been covered in watermelon juice (ergo, sticky). But first the watermelons must be located! So the kids are divided up into two teams, each team is given its first clue, and they're off! Watermelons can't be inside houses, but short of that anything goes. Once they were even burried. First team to find their melon wins.

The watermelons are then sliced, seved, and eaten (with accompanying seed-spitting contenst, naturally). After the chillens are good and goopy, the penny scramble begins. A tarp is laid out on the ground, several garbage bags full of sawdust are dumped on the tarp, and giant piles of loose change are dumped into the sawdust. The smallest kids go first and get 5 minutes or so to dig around, then the older kids and so on. It's awesome. It's the modern equivalent of tarring and feathering, but instead of doing it to convicts it's done to children. It's not considered child abuse becase at the end of it, if you've been doing really well, you are $1.38 richer than you were before dinner, so no complaints!

As the sun turned orange and dipped below the house top it was time to fold up the lawn chairs, gather the remains of the potato salad, and begin packing it in. Kids were ordered to dust themselves off (outside), remove their clothes (also outside) and march inside and get the in the bath. Clothes were either then taken directly to the wash via a strategically held pitch-fork, or simply burned where they lay on the sidewalk.**

**I jest. Sort of.

All squeaky clean and in our jammies, it was time to lather up in carcinogenic insect repellent, grab the lawn chairs yet again, and wander up to the top of the street (grabbing a leftover piece of cold chicken from the tub on the way) where the neighborhood was once again assembling, this time to watch the fireworks. We had an excellent view from the top of the street, overlooking the park where the rockets' red glare lit up the indigo sky. We all shouted "Ooh" and "Aah" together and rated them on a scale of one to ten, Olympic-heckler style. Our towns fireworks were never all that great. They set them off one at a time to drag the show out as a long as possible, so you got to appreciate each firework individually. There were far more "2s" than "10s," but that wasn't the point.

The point was to spend time together as a community, and we were. We were a real community. We knew each other and looked out for each other and yelled at each other's kids and took banana bread to the new people. As kids we played in the street and never worried about a thing; the biggest danger we faced was falling off our bikes and getting a knee full of gravel. (No one wore helmets or knee pads back then.)

So the 4th of July for me was never about independence from the (now defunct) British Empire, or freedom from taxation without representation. It was never about self-governance, liberty, or flag-waving. It was a holiday of celebrating the summer with friends, family, community, barbequed chicken, watermelon, and sawdust. It was about being a kid, being barefoot, and, well, being free; free to throw water balloons at grown-ups, free to stay up past bedtime, free to play outside and eat cold chicken in your pj's, to listen to the drone of the cicadas during the day and the chirp of the crickets at night in total security, free to be completely innocent.

(click to make legible)

The block party doesn't happen any more. None of the annual parties do. By the time I was a teenager the character of the neighborhood had changed dramatically. The new families didn't want anything to do with block parties; they thought it was wierd. They put up tall fences around their yard and kept their children inside them. They installed air conditioning and sat inside all summer, instead of on the porch in the evening to catch the cool breeze and chitchat with whoever strolled by. They bought their kids nintendos instead of bicycles, DVD players instead of slip-n-slides, and the kids stayed indoors. They don't know each other. I don't know them. No one knows anyone. And everyone is afraid. They are afraid because they fear what they don't know, and they don't know their nighbors.

When I ws 16 I tried to organize the 4th of July party on my own. But no one wanted to come. The people thought "who is this stranger person at our door?" and told me they would be out of town. On the 4th of July I put my lawn chair out on the island and sat there for hours, hoping someone would join me, but no one came.


One final note: None of the above photos are my own. I nabbed them from tinternet because all my old pics of my family and memories are in albums back in the States, and thus inaccessible to me via compooter. Sorry if I knicked one of yours. It was with the best of intentions.

Good Idea, Bad Idea

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Easter Departure

I'm leaving tomorrow (Wed) for up north, to the home of the Pirate's parental units, for Easter. I will be back the following Wednesday, 11 April. I may or may not be blogging during this time period, it's tard to hell.

I'm looking forward to this trip, which will include (but not be limited to) the following phenomena:

• The Pirate's birthday (there will be an absolutely amazing chocolate-raspberry cake involved, but owing to my chocolate addiction and subsequent personal ban I will not be partaking of aforementioned cake. Instead, I will be partaking of the Pirate.)
• The funeral of one of Pirate's close colleages (this is obviously not going to be one of the fun bits, but it needs done)
• A big ol' Pirate family gathering, including both parents, the only brother, the paternal grand-dame, and all the aunts/uncles/cousins on the father's side. It's going to be quite an event. I hope I don't get people's names mixed up.
• Church on Easter Sunday. (I bought a ribbon to tie around my straw hat to match my dress. I feel very posh.) I'm not a church-going type these days, but I have very fond memories of Easter mass, and I just LOVE all those Alleluias!!!!!
  
• Hot hot Pirate whoopee

As you can see, it's going to be a busy trip. Be good and behave yourselves until I get back.

Happy VD

Does anyone out there actually like VD? Everyone I know complains about it. So why do we perpetuate this unwanted, unwelcomed, angst and guilt-ridden commercial holiday by buying roses, chocolates, cards and jewelry?

Here's the fundamental problem: happy, loving couples don't need a cheesy, fake, commerical holiday to express their affection and devotion, and lonely people really don't want their noses rubbed in their singlehood. So who is this for???

I'm almost disappointed that the Pirate is coming over tomorrow night. He was going to come over tonight, and I was going to spend VD learning programming in Basic from Flatmate B, with the aim of teaching me how to write software programs that assist my linguistic analysis of medieval texts. I thought learning about computer programming sounded like an awesome way to spend VD. But it turns out that tonight is inconvenient for the Pirate, so he's coming around tomoz instead. That's ok. He knows how I feel about the day, and he won't do anything. Becuase when I told him "I hate VD, I don't celebrate it or mark it in any way (except to complain a bit more than usual), so please don't buy me anything or do anything special," he had the good sense to take me at my word.

When I told him, "don't buy me anything for Christmas becuase you're spending a fortune on a plane ticket and having you there is the best gift you could possibly give me," he believed me. And I LOVED that he believed me. He didn't assume that I was saying one thing while meaning another. He respected me enough to know that I was honest with him and not playing mind games. And you can't imagine what a relief that is. I've finally found someone who doesn't assume I'm playing mind games just becuase 99.9% of women do and think it's acceptable. News flash: it's not. Cut it the fuck out.

So VD will be just like any other evening with the Pirate: relaxed, fun, romantic, and a wee bit silly. Because every day I spend with him is like Christmas, my Birthday, VD, and the Fourth of July all rolled into one. It's wonderful beacuse it's about him and me and our bond, and artificial, arbitrary holidays have nothing to do with it.

*Pant pant pant pant pant....*

Ok here we go christmas break in 100 words or less no punctuation i don't have time

All the airports fogged in EXCEPT manchester thank god we barely made it out
Mom and dad met us in Detroit all hugs kisses exclaimation points introdtuctions it's so good to see you WELCOME!!!!
Late night long travelling get home pet dog HELLOOOOO DAISY DOODLE! grab Pirate collapse into bed
Day 1 get hair cut dentist appointment dentist gives me free teeth cleaning on condidtion i marry Pirate who is waiting in lobby if not married owe him 75 bucks what a card! Scot and Marilynn and John and Pamela over for dinner more introductions fabulous meal all very exhausting

Day 2 drive to Lansing to visit Aunt Sister Pain-in-my-Ass who goes to extreme efforts to fix us lovely brunch and still manages to botch the quishe even though it was a pre-packaged thingy. Takes us on tour of her office building inflicts entire history of 3-year-old bldg on Pirate who bears it with great stoicism and fortitude he must really love me to put up with all this drive home make gallumpki for christmas dinner then off to party at Rick and Debbie's where emotionally damaged daughter decides Pirate is hot (she's damaged, not blind) and clings to him all night.

Day 3 Christmas eve Bob and Lee over for lunch more small talk being polite Pirate having to explain his job for the 14th time in 3 days to more strangers who "have heard so much about you!!!" go to gym for workout lift weights with Pirate have fun shouting at each other and sweating and panting never giggled so much in a gym before spent 10 minutes on ergometer and my back was OK yay!!! came home sr aunt PITA arrived already have dinner of kielbasa, pierogi and other Polish food open pressies Pirate like the scarf I crocheted him and then off to Midnight Mass choir sounded beautiful Pirate not impressed with RC decorations too high church for him but went to Eucharist anyway which is great because technically the RC church does not allow non-RCs to accept Eucharist Pirate doesn't give a shit what they think god i love him.

Day 4 Christmas Day finally a day to chill out and put our feet up slept in and woke up in each others' arm made drowsy love in warmth and relaxation and who gives a shit if house is wood and parents hear as domestic acoustics are such that it's basically like shagging inside a guitar Christmas dinner lovely and gallumpki a big hit went for long walk in woods saw 3 deer and an owl.

Day 5 walked downtown had workout in gym then went to toy store and hunting superstore to see dead animals on walls and examine archery equipment for sale Pirate is secretly Robin Hood shush don't tell anyone

Day 6 Drove to Detroit saw Spamalot would have gouged my left eye out to see the original cast but it was hysterical nonetheless dad and Pirate laughed themselves to tears if you get the chance GO SEE IT then Greektown for dinner had flaming cheese Pirate loving the idea of 4 foot flames leaping off the cheese the moussaka was excellent got home late and went to bed

Day 7 Spent all day cooking for big dinner following day then went out to dinner with Rick and Mary old school frinds of mine more introductions it's so good to meet you etc etc Rick trying to bait Pirate into discussion of English presence in Northern Ireland and other topics Pirate does not rise to the bait and responds with coolness and dignity ha suck on that one, Rick got home where brother and sister in law are waiting having driving in from wisconsin still MORE introductions etc i can't believe the Pirate is still here he must REALLY love me to put up with all this bless him.

Day 8 hung out with marley and mrs happy (bro and sis-in-l) and then sr. aunt PITA and her companion arrive and we have big famiily thanksgiving with turkey and all the trimmings and the whole family around the table and i totally loved it it's my favourite think in the world to have everyone i care about around a table breaking bread together and the Pirate was there and it was perfect

Day 9 flew back to England first flight was over 2 hours late and we barely made out connection but we did make it so all is well

Day 10 Pirate's parents met us at Manchester airport it's New Year's Eve the Pirate didn't sleep at all on the plane so he's been awake all night I dozed about 2hours the movies were terrible we're both exhausted the car in front of us on the motorway spins out of control and collides with a guardrail there is debris everywhere our car hits something big there is a loud clunk as the car goes over it Mr Pirate pulls over to inspect the damage police are on the way lights flashing confusion is the car ok everyone's ok the car's ok swap details so we can go home. Home at the P's we have tea I go upstairs to take a nap the macho P decides to force himself to stay awake to readjust his body clock i wake up 90 mins later and have a bath and feel much better we go out and go shopping the P needs a new MP3 player get back and get changed for party feeling like shit because P's parents have booked table at posh golf club for 5 course meal and i didn't pack a dress only have black trousers and blouse P's mum sympathetic and wears trousers as well so I feel better dinner gorgeous balloons on table which we blow up and send flying across room at other people's heads and waitresses rest of room catches on and soon balloons are flying like jet-propelled condoms all over room too tired to stay awake til midnight and P too self-conscious to dance in front of 'rents so left at 10 but had lovely evening.

Day 11 New Year's Day made resolutions to get sub-7 erg score and 30K words done on dissertation took long walk in countryside with Pirate and got stuck in mud up to ankles no deer but saw lots of sheep

Day 12 slept in read paper drove to country pup to meet P's dad for lunch then wandered around Lancaster for the afternoon got nice tea in tea merchant and went to pet store P bought me more fun tubes for Bluto's cage and an aquarium and when I get back from Spain P will buy me a fishy for my birthday yay!!! P spent rest of evening playing with model trains with his father I sat and chatted with his mum scuh lovely people hope they will be my in-laws someday soon no ring under x-mas tree boo hoo

Day 13 (today) drove back to bristol now have to unpack do laundry repack and catch bus at 3:30 am to get to airport because going to spain for a week for rowing training camp will tell you all about it in a week see you then love xxxxxx

Christmas quiz

1. Egg Nog or Hot Chocolate?

yes please. with cinamon and whipped cream. and mulled wine and hot apple cider.

2. Does Santa wrap presents or just sit them under the tree?

Santa sub-contracts the work out to the elves known as 'mom' and 'dad.'

3. Colored lights on tree/house or white?

Colored on tree, white on house. NOTHING BLIKNING. It's a holiday, not a f*&#ing carnival.

4.Do you hang mistletoe?

Usually, but no one ever seems to pay much attention to it.

5. When do you put your decorations up?

Usually around the 2nd sunday of Advent.

6. What is your favorite holiday dish (excluding dessert)?

Hmm. That's a tie between the gallumbki (we're Polish. we eat cabbage rolls on Christmas. Deal with it), the kielbasa (again, we're Polish), the pierogi (are you noticing a pattern here?), the kapusta (ditto), the pumpkin bread (finally - something normal!), and all the other stuff.

7. Favorite Holiday memory as a child?

To be honest, Christmases are loads better now than they were when I was a kid. Mostly this is because my grandparents are dead and therefore not here to spend the entire holiday argueing with each other and informing the rest of us of our rampant inadequacy.

I do remember the year that my family got our first VCR. It was a gift from the family to the family because that single purchase blew my parents' entire Christmas budget. (Times were tight back then.) The only other thing under the tree was the complete Star Wars trilogy on VHS. We hooked up the VCR and spent Christmas Day glued to the TV watching all three Star Wars movies and eating candy from our stockings. Best Christmas ever. We had so much fun (for the first time ever) that we declared it a tradition and have done it every year since. Other families play games and spend "quality time" together. We eat junk food and argue over whether Han Solo or Luke Skywalker is cuter. I love my family so much.

8. When and how did you learn the truth about Santa?

Honestly, I never really believed in Santa. I always thought it was a bit of a stretch, so I wasn't surprised when one year, I think I was about 7, I saw some toys in my parents' closet before Christmas, and they wound up under the tree on Christmas morning with 'From Santa' tags. One year my older brother told me there was no Santa, and my mom was furious, but I didn't care because I already knew.

9. Do you open a gift on Christmas Eve?

Actually, we open all of the ones from mere mortals on Christmas Eve. The only gifts we open on Christmas day are the ones from Santa. (And yes, my brother and I still get gifts from Santa. Until we have our own kids we are still the babies in the family, so we still get the Santa pressies.)

10. How do you decorate your Christmas Tree?

With colored lights, strings of popcorn and cranberries, and all the rediculous, miscelaneous ornaments my brother and i made as kids. It's totally haphazard and it always looks great.

11. Snow! Love it or Dread it?

Love it love it love it love it love it. But that's because I'm the one in the family who still likes to play in it: skiing, sledding, anatomically correct snow-couples doing rude things, snow angels, forts, fights, driving like a maniac (in empty parking lots), etc. oh, yeah.

12. Can you ice skate?

Reasonably well. I'm out of practice, though. It's been a while since the ponds around my parents' house were solid enough for skating on the rare occasions I've been home.

13. Do you remember your favorite gift?

My cat, Noelle, the Christmas kitty. May she rest in peace.

14. What's the most important thing about the Holidays for you?

Relaxing. I work like a dog the rest of the year, and the Christmas holiday is the only real vacation I get.

15. What is your favorite Holiday Dessert?

Hmm. That would either be pumpkin pie, gingerbread, Christmas cookies, cheesecake thingys, buckeyes, or hummers.

16. What is your favorite holiday tradition?

That's a tie between question 7 and the Advent Concert at my old church. On the first Sunday of Advent my choir hosts a concert and carol sing-a-long for the whole city. It's the biggest church in town (giant romanesque thing that seats about 2000 people) with a huge organ and great acoustics. We invite about a dozen choirs, who each sing 2 non-traditional songs. Between each choirs performance the whole audience joins in singing the well-known carols, and at the end all the choirs come on stage and sing the 'Hallelujia Chorus' from Handel's Messiah together. With the organ and the brass accompaniement it's absolutely spectacular.

17. What tops your tree?

A star. Usually something glitzy and tacky that my dad has picked up from the local Rite Aid.

18. Which do you prefer giving or receiving?

Giving. Definately giving. I don't remember half the stuff I've got over the years, but I usually make all my gifts and I can tell you everything I've given to each of my family members since I was about 12.

19. What is your favorite Christmas Song?

See this post from last year.

20. Candy Canes! Yuck or Yummy?

Meh. They're ok if you stick them in a glass of hot chocolate and let them melt, but otherwise they don't do a whole lot for me.

Happy Turkey Day!

(Disturbing, no?)



Oh my god what a week.

On tuesday evening (is today Thursday already? good grief) I was sitting at my 'puter, still sniffling softly over a sad email, a heartfelt "goodbye" from our mysterious dashing* doctor, when the doorbell buzzed. I went to the door, opened it...


blinked a few times...


then sucked all the air from the corridor as my brain caught up with my eyes and i realized who was standing in front of me. The Pirate grinned.


I threw my arms around him, shaking and crying while he held me in a vice grip, and time stood still.


We've hardly been apart since. He surprised me by coming home a day early, so I had nothing ready. We ended up getting pizza for dinner. Yesterday we had the feast that I'd planned, dined by candlelight, remembered how good it was to be with one another. We talked for hours, and when we went to bed, he spooned up against me with his forearm against my back for support, and held me all night, cradling me, keeping me warm.

We ate leftover apple pie for breakfast (oh yeah, i've been baking, my bitches) and played video games: a perfect holiday.

Today is Thanksgiving. This year I have more to be thankful for than ever. I am thankful for love. Thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you. (And for that rediculous turkey photo. I'm thankful for that, too.)

*that's a clever pun, that is. He's dashing in the sense of handsome, yes, but he's also been dashing in and out of my life a lot in the last two weeks. See how that works?