A Little Journey Is Good For The Soul

Remember when I was breathing heavily into a brown paper bag,
fighting off the incredible anxiety over taking a trip...ALONE?

I never subjected anyone to the home movies, silly (only to me) travel stories, the hundreds of slides!

Since you're here, have a seat and a cuppa while I regale you with my trip to IRELAND.


oh, ok. Just a few stories and photos then...

It was a dark and dreary night.... No, really, I got there after the sun went down and it was raining. I was in unfamiliar territory looking for my B&B in a not-so-small city. On a Friday. When people love to go out and make traffic just to thwart solitary travelers.

After navigating dark, narrow streets past drivers who knew what they were doing and where they were going, I was a bit on edge when I arrived at my lodging. The lovely young man that greeted me and showed me my room (and the safest place to leave my rental car) was kind enough to share a bit about his hometown and gave me tips how I could spend the next day WALKING to various points of interest since I never wanted to get behind the wheel again.
The Giant's Causeway that I had come for could wait.

However, after a good night's sleep and a light breakfast, I felt a bit braver and decided to give it another go. I took take the Causeway Coastal Route and found myself arguing regularly with the satnav as it seemed to want to take me away from the ocean rather than alongside it.
My determination paid off. Eventually I saw this amazing site.

Just there, jutting up out of the sea, all by it's lonesome. I parked the rental car ON THE BEACH (the road did take me down there, I assumed others have done the same, although the beach was deserted this morning and I had no one to follow).  Like a child, I ran along with the waves for a bit, watching my footprints disappear under the frothy fun.  Unfortunately, the jitters hadn't completely left me and I started getting worried that the car would sink or a tide would come in too fast, so I cut my sea play short and attempted to get as little sand as possible in the car.

Back on my route, I immediately discovered that my exciting, architectural find could actually be seen up close AND I happen to be a member of the National Trust so my visit would be free!


Welcome to the Mussenden Temple and Downhill Demesne.

Temple

House

When traveling alone it is mandatory to take lots of self-portraits. Refuse any help, it's more fun this way.

more house

Incredible house. Incredible temple (although it was rather rude that someone was planning their wedding and therefore in my way while I was trying to be a tourist). I was buzzing now. "Bring on the rest!" I practically cheered as leaving the car park.   

Reader's Digest version, right? I told you NOTHING about this site. See? I can do slide shows without boring you to death...


Feeling a bit more courageous, I actually turned the car around, drove back, found a place to pull off (not easy) and walked down a dangerous road just to get a good picture of this sign...

Good information to have, thought I may not be the only one who needed this advice. Thank goodness someone thought to put it on a sign just off the road for me.

Oh, and another sign, this one in Gaelic...

I didn't mind the strange looks I was getting from men on tractors or the pretty little leg blisters from the stinging nettles. It was worth it...



Awww, leaving already? I was just getting to the slides of the Giant's Causeway!

Maybe next time?

Do Not Open Until December 2013

Dear Me,

You do NOT like Christmas baking. Before the delusion sets in- that conviction you have of the smell of fudge, sugar cookies, toffee and teacakes making your life complete, please stop and ponder Christmases past. Remember what this time is REALLY like.

Inevitably, as the holiday rush bears down on you, someone will contract head lice and the entire house will need fumigating once or twice or fifteen times, or some lovely child will give the gift of the flu bug to your children and the entire linen closet will go through a few washings.

The kids' Christmas parties (football, ballet, church, school) will be overshadowed by all of the birthday parties they are invited to, and none of them are within 20 minutes of driving time to your house.
You won't remember to book your hair appointment for December, so you will be forced to continually try to push your hair out of your eyes while dragging every cookie sheet out of the far back recesses of the lower corner cabinets (clue number one that you don't really enjoy baking or they might be easier to get to). 
And that great plan you have of setting aside a few days JUST for baking and addressing cards? Someone will need an ambulance ride or, the husband who feels he hasn't done enough to help you for the last 15 years recently, will book all of the kids' dental appointments for those days.

Because you tend to convince yourself that it is not Christmas until those 2-day Sugar cookies are properly frosted and delivered to people who probably are beyond their fill of baked goods and sweets, you will forge ahead late into the night while your family sleeps. You will snap at them all in the morning when you are too tired to show any patience. Your daughter's school uniform will have missed the wash because you were so distracted with baking. Despite your late night bake-fest, one plate will be missed or left behind in the rush to get on the bus.

DON'T DO IT! The family will be happier. The poor friends and neighbors forced to smile and act like they look forward to your labor of love will appreciate your decision to take the year off.

And you, my well-meaning self, can sit down with a nice hot chocolate and watch It's A Wonderful Life and realize...


that it is (when you slow down and live in the moment).

The Only Thing Constant in the Military Is...

I've always thought I was blessed to have a mind that can't hold on to things. I can hear jokes several times over and still laugh as hard as the first time, I can be slighted and not hold a grudge (can't hold a grudge if one can't remember the slight), and skimming through older photos is sometimes like I've never seen them before. It's almost magical looking at these beautiful photos of when my kids were younger.

But then there's the downside. Like how I will never learn that in the military, you never make plans until the hard copies are in your hands.


Job assignments have changed drastically in the last 7 years. Everything is now received online and it's up to the troops to print it out. My husband has been patiently waiting for some of the 'steps' to show up on the Virtual MPF site, but we discovered yesterday why they hadn't.
We're not going to the Azores.

We could be going to the Azores.

Only HE might be going to the Azores.

We won't even know what our options are until after January.

Welcome to the budget cuts in the military. Funny thing, If I were running the show, I could tell you where the waste is-- the guys pushing the beans don't ever get it right in my opinion.

In 2001 when we lived on the island, housing was just fine-well, except for the section that tested high for asbestos- but in 2005 they rebuilt it all. I can imagine that they have since upgraded the perfectly fine school as well, and while we were there, they did build a new BX. All infant-aged family-oriented buildings on this tiny military base where they've just determined that it will be from now on, an unaccompanied tour.

The assignments made over the last six months must be in a state of chaos. There are people due to arrive with their families from February on, and now families are supposed to be cleared off the island by 2014. The school is closing in 2014. That's where we don't really know what's going to happen. They could give us the go ahead to go since we will JUST make the cutoff time (July), but it means we'd move us all there, place the kids in a school where everyone has short timer's disease (you tell me that my kids are going to get the BEST education in a place that's focused on closing shop), and then move again in a year. It takes a military family 6 months to acclimate to the new surroundings. The next 6 months would be preparing for the next move.

The poor oldest. The one who has pulled every string he could find to assure that he would follow us over in October. His wife would have to stay behind in the States.


So, I never learn. Hey ho, right? It's the life we signed up for. The life I agreed to. I just wish I could remember that BEFORE I drag everyone else along in my blissfully ignorant happy dance...

Ye Olde Christmas... Warning: Photo Heavy

It's that time of year again, when British children-or American children in British Church of England schools- begin performing their Nativity plays and practicing their special Christmas numbers for the orchestra performance (that will take place during the special Christmas dinner at school).
 They are all happily making their Christingles for the service to be held in the village church and have decorated trees for the local church's Christmas Tree Festival. It's a busy buildup to the big day and I love how it all helps the children to remember what the holiday is all about.
We've been very fortunate to have our kids in the Church of England schools where the day starts with prayer, they celebrate the birth of Christ and God is welcome. I love the school!

Who am I kidding, it's not just the school- I love everything over here. 

Rudolph, Frosty and Santa Claus is Coming to Town take a back seat to Dr. Who, East Enders and Downton Abbey Christmas specials. The Hogfather, a twisted Christmas tale by Terry Pratchet should make it's annual appearance soon. The basic plot: The Hogfather, the Discworld equivalent to Father Christmas, has gone missing and Death is forced to take his place while his granddaughter Susan attempts to find out what happened.

Country-wide, churches open their lovely heavy wooden doors and offer mince pies and hot tea for carol services. The first carol service I attended was not the peaceful, wonderful experience I had expected- with a husband in Iraq and very wiggly toddler who kept me from watching my boy play the trumpet in the service. I distinctly remember standing outside crying through part of it while looking up into the starry night sky.

So this year, when I heard about St. Mary's carol service, I insisted the whole family would go--and enjoy it.
St Mary's church is located in a small village called West Tofts. The unique thing about this village though, is it is mostly deserted. During the war, the military took over the village (and several others), turning it into a mock-Nazi village for training. Unfortunately, after the war ended, the military didn't give it back to the community-it's most recent facelift was to turn it into an Afghanistan-like battle ground. But, the British Army hold an annual carol service to welcome the public back into the gorgeous, 19th century building.

We got there early and found a pew. My children began bickering within 5 minutes of sitting down. Miss Ky was in full wiggle mode within 10 minutes.
We only had 20 more minutes to go before the service would even start.

During the service, the military brass band accompanies the carolers and readings of the nativity are placed throughout. Towards the end, a collection comes around for church restoration and other causes.  It's an incredible experience being here in England for Christmas and it's hard not to get melancholy knowing this will be our last.

But, nevermind. You came for the photos, so let's get on with it!

 Miss Ky is wearing her brand new Christmas coat. She hates that her coat is "puffy" and has been complaining for 2 years now (yes, I buy big and make it last). So, I found this beautiful wool coat and was going to give it to her at Christmas, but just before the carol service, she wore her "poofy" coat out into the garden and rolled in the marshy wetlands that we call our front lawn.

So, new coat. Happy girl.

The church is lit by candles...

ooooh, aaaaahhh.

A2 getting a "tour" of the tree.

Where did everyone go? Off to eat mince pies. I took photos

Do you suppose his gown was designed by Cinna?

Posers

And so... 

after an evening of telling my kids to "Sit down", "Quiet down" "This is a prayer, quit rustling your programme!" "Stop looking at her!" "Stop annoying to him!" "Would you LEAVE your sister alone?!",

we stopped by the base where I was reminded how blessed I am to have tired, hungry children at Christmas time.

Our heartfelt prayers go out to the Newtown community and the families and friends who are mourning.

We got home after 9.30pm. My exhausted little ones brushed their teeth and I peeled Miss Ky out of her clothes and into her pajamas. We hung her coat in a special place so that she could look at it and her brothers wouldn't dirty it with theirs. As I tucked her into bed and leaned down to kiss her goodnight, I told her, "You really shouldn't keep so many of your babies in bed with you, it would be terrible if you got head lice again and they all had to go back into the freezer all at once".

To which she replied,

"Oh, speaking of that... my head is itchy".

No, I am not joking. I wish I was. Friday evening after the terrible, tragic news coming out of CT, we had put our two youngest in our bed with us. Saturday they ended back up in there for a good cuddle. Miss Ky and an older brother like to have cuddles on his bed as well. We often find them heads stuck together playing a DS or reading...

We began the combing. I found no less than eight pteradactyls on that child's head.  Everyone's bedding was removed. The mattresses were vacuumed. All clothes, hoodies, pillows, stuffed toys left the bedrooms.

Miss Ky's new coat has gone into the freezer for the next two weeks. It will be there for Christmas.

My laundry room looks like Kilimanjaro. I am itching as we speak.

So at this time, I think I would like to recount my earlier comment. I do not love EVERYTHING about England (or more specifically, the school and their head lice policies). Some nasty little things I will be happy to leave behind....



HO, HO, HOOooo

America Is Again on My British Newstation

I'm sure you all are feeling the same shock, grief, horror as I am. 5000 miles across an ocean does not lessen the blow of such tragedy. I can't seem to stop crying. My husband, the giant marshmallow, has chosen to tuck the horror away and not think about it. There will be no more news playing in our house. He doesn't want to talk about it. It didn't happen as far as he's concerned. However, the man who views our bed as "scared" and "not to be disturbed" by kicking bed hogs, didn't say one word when I put our two youngest in bed with us last night.

And of course, there are those tragedy vultures who swoop in and begin their Anti-American hate tirades instead of offering up prayers or hope, so I find myself swinging bipolar-like between desperate sadness and anger. When I turned to FB or Twitter to talk with friends (since the Hubby is in his emotional cave), the shared feelings of desperate longing to bubble wrap our children is sadly peppered with those who feel disgust for our nation because apparently, this is what we as Americans ask for.

I know I didn't ask for this. My views of gun laws may not be your views of gun laws, but I can't imagine any of us would ever want 20 precious children to die along with innocent adults. So can we just leave the politics out of it? Just for a little while, can we come together and grieve for these poor families whose Christmas trees shelter wrapped presents for babies who are never coming home?

I keep thinking about the mornings I send my little whirlwinds out of here with nothing but an exasperated kiss and less-than-sincere, "Have a great day" followed by a plop down into a chair in exhaustion. I swore yesterday that I would never do that again. No matter how much they bicker or annoy each other just before the school transport comes, they will get a mother who is fully present.

Some of us woke up very blessed this morning and will still have little hands cutting paper snowflakes and little faces glowing at the thought of surprises awaiting them under the tree, may God comfort those who won't. #prayforNewtown

Moving Forward

We've become spoiled with this 'little holiday' in Great Britain. Most military assignments have us moving around on average every two years. In July, we will have been here seven glorious years. The U.K. will forever remain my home away from home. I'm heartbroken to leave it.

However, if we weren't open to new adventures, we never would have signed up for this life. Believe me, the "perks" aren't all they're cracked up to be. Free health care means long waiting times for appointments. Overseas health/dental care for dependents...  well, we're all alive.

But I digress... as usual.

We've received our next assignment and with great joy, I can tell you that beginning in August 2013, In The Gutter will be reporting from the third largest island in the 9-Island Azorean chain, Terceira.
We're going back to the the island we loved and to the local Portuguese friends we've missed these past 12 years.

It takes some of the sting out of leaving England.

Since you dropped by, let me get out my slides and bore you with some very outdated photos!

 Ok, I did mention they were poor photos, right? I don't think we had a digital camera yet (much less a DSLR). These were probably from our 8mm video camera.



The brightly coloured buildings are Holy Ghost Houses

 Our first house in Quatro Ribeiras where
we met our lovely friends, The Lopes Family.

Since the winds often get to hurricane force, the windows have metal shutters to protect the glass. We lose power several times a week which makes for great Monopoly games by candlelight.

 Villa Nova. Renowned for burgers that taste exactly like a Big Mac. May not seem like a big deal to you, but when you've gone 2-3 years with nothing that tastes like what you grew up with, they're heavenly.
We're not usually 'fast food' people, but we like a fun little family outing now and again to enjoy something so not good for us.




Twice a year, the base flies in Burger King and they open up their operation for one day in the school. People queue up around the building for a taste from home.

Oldest boy, J1 in front of a Holy Ghost house. The boy and his wife are desperate to join us and we still wait to see if he got an assignment there on this cycle...

  The island is VERY small. There's very few places you can be and not see the ocean.

The Portuguese have great respect for the ocean. We were warned never to go near it when it "is angry".

C Lopes with J2

Swimming holes are pools protected naturally by lava rock, with steps and handrails added. We swim with the fish. Sometimes we don't swim when the jellyfish take over...

 Rainbows are frequent. 

I saw my first circle rainbow from the top of the island just before we left in 2001

Our dear friends, The Lopes and baby A1. We're in N. Lopes Carpentry shop where he was custom designing our bed...

The finished product. It's African Cherry wood-gorgeous-and the movers broke it when we moved here. The repairs were expensive and shoddy, so we're looking forward to N putting it right.

N and A Lopes working on the 8-seater table our friends had made.

Wow, you're still here?

If you suffered through that, then surely you won't mind the next 7 months that I'll need to spend catching up with all of our great experiences here in England? 

Somebody pinch me. We're going back to the Azores!!

The True Debate

Put away your opinions on Obama V Romney now please, because what really needs our full attention now is the decades-long, Star Wars V Star Trek conversation.

I, not really a Trekkie but definitely a fan at the time, married a Star Wars geek. This is NOT a part-time hobby for the man, however, he does NOT dress up and go to conventions, so hypothetically there's still hope you're our only hope Obi Wan for him.I love him anyway. It does make it easy to shop for him.

Let's face it, with the recent Disney purchase of Lucasfilm, the marketing for Star Wars is about to boldly go where no man has gone before. Star Trek in our house may just die off like the dust-gathering Star Trek Phaser remote control I refuse to throw out. Star Wars toys and collectibles abound.

So, recently when contacted to review the Angry Birds Star Wars Playing Cards, how could I refuse?

Apparently I am the ONLY person left on the planet not playing Angry Birds because when I told Sexy Guy about the cards, I found out that he plays Angry Birds all of the time and had been looking forward to the new Angry Birds Star Wars app. Who'd've guessed? My unkempt garden might have been a clue. No wonder the man is always "so busy".

The cards are beautiful and my nine-year old-like husband was happily scanning through them saying, "And this bird does this, and this bird does that". He's a happy guy. I'm happy because as a family, we already play a lot of card and board games, and these colorful little gems just made those evenings that much more fun.

In my opinion, these playing cards would make an AWESOME stocking stuffer for the geek in your life- or a simple gift for Star Wars peeps that you may think a lot of, but don't necessarily have the budget to buy a big gift.

The Angry Birds™ Star Wars™ Playing Cards are available at all good toy retailers. For further information visit www.cartamundi.co.uk.

Now isn't this more fun than discussing politics?  Go. Buy. Play and may the force...

The View From Here

A bright and sparkling light faded from our view this month.
 

 I'm sure most of the blogging world knew of Moannie's passing long before I discovered it, but in case you hadn't heard, the world has lost a great writer.

Funny place, this blogging world. I have grown closer to more of you in this realm than I ever have to some family members or IRL friends.

Maybe it's because there are no facades (or limits in personal sharing in my case) to hide behind like we do in real life.  Maybe it's because we have this vast number of gems in which to connect with and the ones we don't? They wander away. It's the real jewels who are left behind to glitter and shine.

I don't know what makes us tick as a community because in reality, the anonymous factor in most chat/discussion areas usually leads to nastiness and bully-like behaviour. We do have those here, but in ratio to the greatness? Just a blip.

I hope I have told you this before, this deep fondness I hold for friendships I've made here.
I hope I told Moannie (and that she knew that even when I stopped reading blogs with any kind of regularity). But what I hope for most of all, is that you will stop by and get to know her through the incredible stories she told, through her wit and love for her family. 

We might all benefit from a little introspection in her honor, and perhaps, dust the cobwebs off of our keyboards and renew this fantastic opportunity we have to come together in friendship.

The View From This End


RIP Moannie, you will be missed.

UK Peeps, This One's For You!

When I was a young and incredibly impressionable young child, my poor mother was a worn out, unappreciated 35 year-old mother who would try to sneak an afternoon nap in when she could. To do so with what I suspect now was an ADHD child a busy child, she had to find a television show that could ensnare me for the the hour.
Together, we would curl up on the sofa and as her breathing slowed to a restful state, I would watch Dark Shadows.

Yes, my mother had me watching a vampire soap opera.
I loved it.
She's also the one that got me hooked on The Twilight Zone, The Outer Limits and Night Gallery, but that's for another post.

You can probably deduce that when Johnny Depp recently signed on as the charismatic Barnabas Collins,  I could hardly contain my excitement. I was eager to see how my beloved Dark Shadows would be interpreted by the fantastically creative Tim Burton.

The result is a giant bat leap from the original, but we all expected that from Burton, right?

Did anyone see it in the theaters/cinema?  Can you believe, I missed it! I was going to have to wait until it was available to rent online or for the dvd to be released. I hate waiting. Am I alone in this?

Luckily, the wait is over...

AND...

Warner Bros. and PartnersHub generously want to give away a Blue-ray of Dark Shadows to one lucky UK RESIDENT (sorry everyone else, my lovely UK readers usually miss out on the giveaways).

"From the incredible mind of Tim Burton comes the hit film Dark Shadows, based on the classic US television series!  Barnabas Collins has been trapped for two centuries by an evil witch (Eva Green) who just happens to be an ex lover.  Barnabas now has to struggle with the ever changing 1970s and save his family’s business!  With an all star cast that includes Michelle Pfeiffer, Helena Bonham Carter, Chloe Grace Moretz, Jonny Lee Miller and more, Dark Shadows will be sure to whet your appetite for fun."


Here's the catch....

Take the Are You Creepy Enough quiz and then post your results in the comments section.

Everyone can play, but since I will be picking randomly on October 25th, please indicate in your comment if you are a UK resident. That's all it takes.

Will you be cuddling up with a family member to watch this?

What great things did your Mom (Dad) introduce you to?

Back to Where We Began

Like the menstrual cycle that comes bearing mood swings and disjointed thoughts, how appropos that this blog has become a once-monthly gift of sorts...

I've been a little busy. Oh yes, traveling, entertaining, traveling (yes, more), but mostly...

ugh. See the previous post if you really want to know what I've been up to. To encourage more frequent posting, I could rename this blog to:

"We'll be Back if We Ever Get Containment On The Flipping Lice"

or

"How to Wash Everything You Own Every Other Week"

or

"Don't Try Leaving Town, The Lice Will Only Wait For You"

I know, amazing. I have actually hit bottom with these blood suckers. I don't understand how people around us say, "Oh, yeah, we had them last month, but haven't seen anything since". And they are the ones who don't turn their households inside out.
I've gotten grumpy at the husband and demanded that my children never hug anyone again for the rest of their lives. We get clear heads- no bugs, no eggs, but then some child brings home a little gift (or a thousand) and we start all over again. Another cycle I won't mind seeing the back side of.

Nevermind. I'll look back and laugh one day.

I'm not laughing today though, in fact, I'm a bit meloncholy. After posting this photo on Facecrack,

I found myself stumbling down that slippery memory lane. Six years ago, I moved to England with a very round belly and we began very new lives. Where did the time go? I can't believe how quickly those six years have gone. My squishy, bouncy cherub is an independent (translation: stubborn), dynamic, sometimes silly little girl now. What a character she has become! She is the darling of the family, the ruler of the house. How she has enriched our lives.... sniff.


I started blogging six years ago as well and that too feels like only yesterday.  I wish I could say the blog has grown and developed in content, but I think I'm quite happy for it to have become a public journal rather than a testament to my creativity.

And speaking of creativity....

Nah, let's not, unless you want to compare notes on everything creative to be found on Pinterest but now have no time to do because of being on Pinterest....


What really great thing did you start in 2006?

What I Didn't Mention on Facebook or How to Get a Head in Lice

Whenever we move (by choice or not), I wash all of the bedding.
I like the new place to smell fresh and clean.

So, I washed all of the bedding and we began moving into this lovely little farm house.

The house sits in the middle of fields of sheep, corn and cows (yes, they're growing cows in the field).
The idyllic country setting brings sometimes easily forgotten pleasantries like biting flies, mosquitos and "thunder bugs". Yay.

Day two of the move, the daughter begins scratching a vicious attack upon her scalp...

(oh dear, not a good sign with our school's lice problem)

While the husband carries furniture up the stairs, I begin the comb-through on the child's hair to discover many black pterodactyls and tiny black dots. The friend helping with the move assures me the black dots are "Thunder bugs" "...and they really bite, no wonder she's scratching".

Oh, ok. I know lice look like small grains of rice, so I'm not worried now, but just for good measure, I wash her bedding and then request everyone's bedding that she has cuddled with- which ends up being everyone. Five beds worth of bedding. Again.

A couple of days pass, and everyone is scratching.  

Ripping my scalp off is sounding more and more appealing since it's got to be more comfortable than what we're going through at the moment.
That's when my good friend exclaims, "Oh, didn't you know? There was a terrible case of lice going about that last week of school and I found loads on my children's heads".

You know, her children's heads that my child's head spent the night with.

Further checking verifies that the infected daughter's other close friend (who also spent the night there) was also blessed with it. "...and the strangest thing, they're black!" They say.

Thanks for the heads up (no pun, really) ladies. I can imagine that prevention would have been a little easier than what we face now.

Everyone gets deloused.

Everyone's stuffed toys, pillows, outside gear etc... get smashed into air-free bags and thrown into the freezer. Everything else gets washed. Again.

Moving sucks.

Oh, yay, we just got an invitation to camp!
"Brilliant!" we say, and off we go to the coast for four days. Really needed that break from the stress.

Six people, four days. One always forgets that unpacking and washing bit that comes with traveling or camping don't they...
I begin the laundry when we get home. Nearly finish when the itching begins again...

Not joking.

Everyone is deloused. No need to worry about the pillows (etc) since they never made it out of the freezer, but a LOT of clothing and bedding has been by these six heads in the last week. So I wash. Again.

The people who live near us must think I'm a compulsive clothes-washer trying to single-handedly deprive Great Britain of it's water resources.

And for some reason, I chose to leave all of that interesting information off of the social networks.




What are you not saying on Facebook these days?



 

“Life is either a daring adventure...

 or nothing.” – Helen Keller


My adventurous spirit is hiding under the covers in a quivering mess.

When did this happen?

Where is the woman who would jump on a plane, last minute to travel to a foreign country-with a three-month old baby, no grasp of the language whatsoever and no reservations?

Where's the woman who decided that no transportation wouldn't deter her from walking around the Italian countryside alone at night in a downpour?

The shell left behind from her sudden departure had a mini meltdown a few months back. "I've lost the person I used to be!" She wailed. "My free spirit has died!" She bemoaned.

”Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn’t do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.” – Mark Twain

So the Sexy Guy decided he must fix it. Because that's what men do when the little woman is a hot mess of blubbering nonsense, they fix it.

And fix it he did. So he thinks.

He booked an international flight for one scared-of-her-own-passport wife and said, "There. All better?"

"NO I AM NOT ALL BETTER. I can't drive your car, the shift is on the wrong side. And parking at the airport is insane and I'll be doing it while trying to shift with my left hand. And what if I get there late and my rental car (which also shifts on the wrong side) is a problem or I drive around in the dark for so long that I miss my B&B check in?"
"WHAT IF MISS KY HAS A BAD FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL?"

Yes, I will miss the first day of school.

Every confirmation that comes through my email box reignites the anxiety. "You must check in online and print your boarding pass..." Where's the paper bag, I need to breathe! "Print your airport parking confirmation to show..." in and out, in and out...

I miss my 34-year old self. But I'm not sure if throwing the older, scared version into the deep end is the best way to teach her how to swim on her own again.

Just sayin'.



“Remember what Bilbo used to say: It’s a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don’t keep your feet, there’s no knowing where you might be swept off to.” – JRR Tolkien

Our New, Last, House

Well we're in.


If one could see how loaded that statement is...

This was not one of my favorite moves, and it certainly wasn't the smoothest. If one were to go back and read all of the fears I had of what would happen when we vacated our last house (with the shady landlord), one would discover that landlords shouldn't be prejudged.  The recent landlord, who I (wrongly) thought "also being military would understand the stresses and paperwork involved to extricate our lives from this country" bit us in the backside BIG TIME... and is still biting. I see all of the red flags now. The ones I didn't pay attention to as I moved us while the husband was deployed.

Our new landlords (a couple), are every bit as lovely as the other was conniving. Having known them for the last 6 years, and know of the reputation they have in our village and schools, I feel safe. An additional assurance is that the people who share the other buildings associated with this farm (there's a bungalow overlooking our farmhouse and two barn conversions adjacent to it), all love Mr and Mrs C.

My kids are so joy-filled I often find myself standing at the window watching them laugh and play. The little ones have two new friends their age to ride bikes with, the two older ones-who were without internet for a week- joined in for the first time in ages. My garden has been filled with kids of all ages from the minute we moved in.

I could quite happily lie down and die in my new kitchen. There is a cupboard for everything.

The house has a great "feel" to it.  It's been filled with happy families for decades (Mr. C was born and reared in this house).



So why am I depressed?

I think the stress of it all has hit and it's everything I can do to keep plodding through the unpacking stage.
I'll survive.

Would you like a tour? Pre-my clutter added photos perhaps?

 This is the room I am writing from and yes, it IS really that small.

 The kitchen- before I covered the work tops with boxes

 From J2's bedroom window. To the left is the bungalow, straight ahead the 

barn conversion they hope to have finished by Christmas.

 Our front door -which is silly really, as we park and enter from the back.

The "front" of the house.

It would make a perfect haunted house, don't you think? 

our driveway.

See? It's all good. What was all the fuss about getting the shock that we'd have to move a few weeks back?

Whoever Said, "Change is Good" Deserves a Punch in the Eye

A simple week, broken down:

Monday:

Maybe I'll blog today. It'll be a retrospective post about contentment. I'll reflect on the dour state I was in when I began blogging and how I have found peace and acceptance for my life. Very self-indulgent, but hey, it's my blog! Ahhh, ran out of time. Maybe tomorrow?

Tuesday:

Sexy Guy comes home with news. Apparently they've just lifted the "7-Year Max" restriction for military to be stationed in England. After all of the agony making the decision to return to the states rather than take any other over-seas base (since staying here was NOT an option). My poor brain can NOT focus on anything!

Wednesday:

Sexy Guy still has the paperwork that's supposed to be turned in because we are now wracked with indecision.

• My mother is not in good health, we should go back to the states. 
• Oldest son and wife could possibly have a baby within the next three years and I need to be close to them! 
• Oldest son is not well and may have to accept a Medical Discharge from the Air Force-we could end up in Idaho while he goes back to Arizona. 
• Four other kids leave the only friends and schools they've known. 
• Older of the four boys will have an opportunity to salvage some American schooling if we return now-he'll have two years of High School. AAAAAAAGHHHHHH!!
• Cost of Visas and car tax if we stay!
• Everything we will miss if we leave.

Thursday:

We have dinner guests coming at 5pm. I wake up with a chesty cold and am a miserable sod. I have a good shout at a child or two who are pushing all of my wrong buttons. I get the two youngest to the school and realize it's "move up" day.
THE day they look forward to.
THE day where everyone moves up into the class they will have next year.
Remorse hits for the terrible start and I hug them, tell them I love them and to enjoy their day. Luckily, kids are extremely forgiving and they leave me with smiles.

An hour later the phone rings, "Your daughter pinched her hand in a basketball goal and is ok but will have a nasty blood blister when she gets home".
Of course it's my fault! Don't you know that I know that already?  I sent her off to school distracted! Never mind that it was her excessive distraction that had caused the Mum meltdown in the first place.

I begin cooking the dinner and cleaning the house. My kitchen looks like a bomb went off in the produce section of a grocery store. I also have not tidied up along the way as it's pointless with this meal really...and there's a rap at the door.

Rap rap.

It's a timid rap, so I'm not even sure I heard it.

There's a tiny, well-dressed woman there. She introduces herself as a member of our Estate Agency.

My Mind: "Oh no you don't, you will NOT conduct our August inspection right now, no warning, when my kitchen is turned upside down!" The sound of three different kinds of expensive meats  sizzling on the stove top pull me from the panicked conversation in my own mind.

"I'm afraid I'm the bearer of bad news," she says...

...and everything goes fuzzy from there.
Something about, "Landlord's personal circumstances have changed" and "...need to vacate the property by September".

I remember numbly mumbling something about "...having just passed our 1-year-left mark" and "...the bad timing of trying to find a new place", and hearing her say, "Oh sh**".
Beautifully put, bless her.

Visions of first and last months rent, deposits and agent fees dance in my head.


Yeah.

Contentment is not all it's cracked up to be. Peace and joy and butterflies are fleeting and may just be the precursor from impending life implosions. 

Maybe I'm being dramatic, but it's my blog, I can do that here.

In real life, I'm packing. And looking for a house that will accept a 10-month lease while still falling into our school catchment so the kids don't have to changes schools their last year here.

Who hoot! Yahoo! 

“Certain things, they should stay the way they are. You ought to be able to stick them in one of those big glass cases and just leave them alone.” 
JD Salinger--The Catcher in the Rye 

Friday:

On the bright side (yes, there is one), there is ONE house within 5 miles of our village. It's a farmhouse with the right amount of space and rooms. It's out in the country again which means more driving to get kids where they need to be, but the nearest farmhouse to it is Son # 3's best friend. 
We booked a viewing (for tonight). All Thursday evening I was tempted to text the BF's mum to say, "What do you know about that house????", but I didn't. When we drove out to confirm where it was, we saw her husband and fought the urge to ask him about the house.


And then my cell phone rings. It's her. Son # 3's best friend's mum. "Hiya J, I have a question that's a little awkward to ask..."

My mind: Well, the word is out, Son #3 must've Facebooked his friend. Just don't cry, just don't cry, just don't cry...

"...are you viewing a house to let tomorrow?"

"Yes..."

"That's MY house! It's our farmhouse!"

After I explained our situation, she said, "We'll work with you, don't worry about the deposits, we'll work something out".

My mind: "just don't cry, just don't cry, just don't cry..." 


I'll post pictures soon. If you don't mind, I wouldn't refuse prayers that the base will approve the house (they would have failed the one we're currently in if I hadn't had a friend who swore he'd fix all of the "dangerous" things they found), and it will fit our needs.


Other than that, life is good. Change is good for you, right?




“Sometimes," Jem said, "our lives can change so fast that the change outpaces our minds and hearts. It's those times, I think, when our lives have altered but we still long for the time before everything was altered-- that is when we feel the greatest pain. I can tell you, though, from experience, you grow accustomed to it. You learn to live your new life, and you can't imagine, or even really remember, how things were before.”
―Cassandra Clare, Clockwork Angel

A Picture of Me Without You, or, There's a Tear in My Beer

Times like these make me wish I drank. Or liked country music. Or both. Because today is a cry-in-your-beer kinda day.

One child went off on a school trip today. That didn't make me cry, I'm quite happy for him as he was so excited.

Three kids and I went out to McDonalds. That didn't make me cry because it is SUCH A RARE EVENT, you would've thought I had taken them to Disneyland. They were very excited and thanked me several times. And amazingly, no one cried when I rolled the window down and one balloon (from said fine dining establishment) flew out of the car.

Same three kids and I rented a movie DESPITE the poor reviews. I didn't cry over that either. In fact, I learned that people who do reviews are idiots. Mirror Mirror was fun. The kids laughed and my artsy brain was drunk on gorgeous images. And what can I say? Julia Roberts, in a movie where she doesn't drop the F-bomb, is a lovable villain.

Today it rains...again.
I don't cry over rain.

Ok, I did get frustrated when it rained EVERY SINGLE DAY that the son and DIL were here (and most days were all-day rain), but I always give thanks for rain.
Growing up in Arizona will do that to you.

Today marks the one year countdown to our leaving England. There's so much I haven't seen yet! There's so much I know I will miss. I believe this tiny little island is going to leave a massive-sized hole in my heart. I imagine myself, sitting in a barren, pub-less desert, with skin as brown as Earl Grey tea, singing:

"Like a treasure that travels with me down every road
There's this longing lonesome and deep
Kind of bitter, kind of sweet
There's a hole in my heart
There's a hole in my heart
There's a hole in my heart in the shape of you (, Britain)"-Jewel, with a little help from me.

I know. Sad sack. Glass half empty. Or Glass nearly dry with hard water stains. I can hear you non-country music lovers (and people who know that there are real problems in the world and I'm whinging about having to move in a year):

"Pull yourself up by yer bootstraps!"

Yeah. I've always hated that expression too.

Come on, cry with me.

  Poppies, Lawn bowls, Autumn hay stacks and Cricket

Castles, churches and the Queen's Calvary

Hairy Coos, windmills and clotted cream

History, history, and more history.

Don't worry. 

I have begun to make another list. One of all of the things that we can look forward to back in the states as well. I'm thinking with 365 days to write, I should be able to come up with a pretty impressive list.  Anyone want to contribute?

Two Roads Diverged...

How rude, I know. No goodbye, nothing.

My blog is having an identity crises. It doesn't know what it wants to be... a travelogue? A Mommy blog? A Military Wife blog? A Craft/Art/Things-I-Do-With-My-Own-Two-Hands blog? A Bare-Thy-Soul blog? Which direction do I go with this?

The said blog owner is fine. Great actually. Probably because there's been lots of traveling involved (sightseeing!) and her good friend CREATIVITY has come back (hopefully to stay, she's been missed terribly!). Feeling connected again.

Don't delete me from your blog rolls yet, I'll get this figured out soon.

For now, a little about where I've been since we last talked:

“For my part, I travel not to go anywhere, but to go. I travel for travel’s sake. The great affair is to move.” – Robert Louis Stevenson
 

White Hart Lane, home of the Tottenham Hotspurs. 

You may remember hearing about Tottenham with the riots recently. Plenty of buildings nearby are still boarded up.

 This is the face of a boy who didn't think we could beat them

 But beat them we did!

 This is at the end of the game as the players were clapping to us and we were cheering to them.

If the Hubby had taken photos when we scored, you would've seen a half-nekked young man next to me (who had ripped his shirt off, jumped over chairs and ended up in our row). 

A guy in front of the Hubby jumped down a 

couple of rows. No one minds, and

it's not odd to be hugging strangers at goal time.

The next morning, we woke up and had our English breakfasts (eggs, fried toast, beans, tomato etc) and drove by Stonehenge...

 Yes, "drove by". No sense in stopping a third time. Seen it, done it.

Drove some more....

I love Spring in England. There's bright yellow fields of Rapeseed everywhere and Claritin is my best friend.

As The Man drives, I fiddle with travel books and phone apps. I can't stand the thought of getting home and discovering we were right next to some special place that we could have taken a few minutes to go and see...
like how Chatsworth House was RIGHT THERE as we drove around for three days in the Peak District in 2007.

As we drove through the gorgeous English countryside towards our Devon and Cornwall destination,

we saw a sign that I vaguely remembered from somewhere...

We gambled, took the exit and am so happy we did!

But,
 I'll have tell you more about that incredible place later.

Here's a hint:

Sorry about the ads, there's nothing I can do about those.

Hope you are all well and happy and enjoying your summer.

Ta ta for now!