A Public Apology to the People of Seattle

So, you should understand that it's been quite cold in Bournemouth. No snow, but that's simply due to a lack of rain mixed with the below freezing temperatures. Pair with this a strong wind chill coming right off the water and it gets a little nippy. Also, there's the fact that the British are not inherently afraid of natural temperatures like the Americans are - between central heating and air conditioning, it's easy in the States to never have a clue about the outside temperature. No so much here, where the MA room - despite best efforts - is permanently set on "cold fan and these crazy Europeans who seem content being whatever temperature it "is". 

So... I *may* have mentioned... a few times... that I'd be happy to get back to Seattle where it's ... (ahem) warm. Where's it's never this cold, absolutely never. And, in answer to the question posed, it never ever snows. 

While sitting in Heathrow, waiting for my plane to start loading, I overheard people chatting about the current weather in Seattle. "A foot of snow?!" I snorted incredulously. "In the 23 years I've lived there, I don't think I've ever seen more than a few inches, and those pretty much only ever after January". Foot of snow, indeed. Bah.

"University of Washington meteorologist Cliff Mass said that the snowstorm is the biggest for Seattle in 12 years, and that the length of time the region has been locked into low temperatures makes it particularly unusual." 

The No Fly List

At 9:10AM on December 19th, I loaded up my bags and headed out the door to catch a bus that would take me to the coach station, then a National Express coach that would take me to Heathrow. Despite my usual anxieties about timed travel, I made each interchange easily and efficiently, patting myself on the back for work well done. Yes, it was a bit more of hassle to find my terminal as, having (wrongly) assumed that Terminal 4 was connected to the terminal I was dropped at from the coach, I found myself waiting 25 minutes for the next underground to take me to Northwest Airline's check-in station. No problem, however, as I had left *plenty* of time, and sailed right through the line to check my large rolling suitcase, take my boarding pass, and wander off towards security. I had 45 minutes before the plane was due to board and the line for security was nonexistent. I would have plenty of time to get something to eat - I hadn't eaten breakfast, as I had conducted the massive purge of the refrigerator the night before - for breakfast I had the choice between chicken nuggets with peanut butter and jelly or frozen ravioli with maple syrup. 

Ummm... Yep, that's my duffel bag being hauled away to the side. I dutifully put back on my shoes, my coat, put my ziplock baggie of purel back in my purse, and followed the woman with my carry-on. I was amused that I had been selected for a random inspection - I was obviously just making up their quota of caucasian girls. She pulled out my laptop and swabbed it down. She pulled out my camera and swabbed it down. We started chatting about how I was a student down at the Arts Institute, working on Costume Design, and how - yes - sewing was a lost art nowadays. About this point, she had reached my sewing projects bag (placed in my carry-on so as to allow me to get stuff for my group crit done whilst home, even if my checked luggage ends up halfway across the world); she pulled out paper patterns with the corresponding fabric shapes pinned on. She then pulled out a metal case with "Gingher" written on the side.

Oh, shit.

She gave me a sympathetic smile as she heard me say it - "this is what I was looking for, isn't it?" Yep. She opened it up to reveal my 7" extra-sharp dressmaker's sheers. Which, incidentally, come with numerous warning to not let children even touch these. For all the joking about confiscating nail files and bottled water, these scissors could do a pretty serious amount of damage. She had only my word that I would never get blood on them, lest they stain. Fortunately, as I'd only checked one bag, I had the option of going back to the NW Airlines desk and checking this one as well. With my "plenty of extra time" flying out the window, I raced back to the desk to see that the line had increased tenfold, and was now filled with families carrying tons of baggage, skis, oversized packages, etc. Grumble.

Worse, when I was about six groups from the front of the line, we received our holiday greeting from the head honcho: "This flight has been oversold, so many of you are going to get bumped." Merry Christmas. Fortunately, as I had my boarding pass and seat number, I was fine. We were all offered $1000 if we'd switch and take the same flight tomorrow - if we didn't speak up now, however, we would lose the compensation. I briefly considered - the money was to be in travel vouchers, but that would easily pay both for the current Christmas trip and some fun trip later next year... As quickly as I thought it, I dismissed it. I was already here, I was ready to go, and we were going to be making Christmas cookies for Andrew's birthday the next day. Hells no, I WILL go!

By this point, the evil Christmas gremlins started making trouble - as I rounded a corner, I saw approach in the line an old British grandmother/fatherly couple, obviously on the way to Seattle to see young relatives; they were met, however, by airline personal who informed them that they had just been bumped. The grandmother started crying. I was overcome by horrific feelings of guilt and imagined myself turning into the grinch when I had to turn away. (If I had watched her another minute, I would've bounded forward and declared, "HERE! She can have *my* ticket"... only to regret it a moment later) When I finally reached the first in line, they decided it was time for a shift change, and I had to sit as every single person behind the desk handed theirs over to someone new - and explained what was going on. During this time, my watch showed that they were officially beginning to load the plane. I handed them my new second checked bag, raced over to security (which, was now choc-a-bloc full of people, nearly all of whom reached the front of the line without any inclination towards taking off shoes, taking off coats, taking liquids out of their bags, etc before they finally ambled up to the conveyor belt and looked about in surprise when asked to do so) 2:35 - ten minutes passed the start of loading... I passed through security quite easily (I had placed my coat into my carry-on-now-checked bag, so I had only myself, my shoes, my purse, and my laptop - pre-swabbed and all); when I went to catch my tub coming out of the X-ray machine, the TSA bloke grabbed it and pulled it back - 'haha, little Christmas humor there', he said as he let it fall through. Thank God they had already taken my scissors away. 

Once again shod and carrying my bags, I raced for the departures sign to see what gate I would need to sprint to as though all hell's demons were chasing me. 

NW Flight 105 - Seattle - DELAYED / WILL BOARD 15:00. 

 

"Christmas is all about the baby, right?" "I warn you to seriously think twice before suggesting juggling babies..."

(The Songs of Praise episode would probably be more appropriate, but I already posted it... so here's the Christmas episode. Fun times to be had with auditions and improvisation exercises - make sure you watch the second clip for Mary giving Joseph a beat-down)

So, with everyone out of the Halls, I started putting on Gilbert and Sullivan and my various Italian pieces from voice class and realized - you know what? I really, really miss chamber choir. I miss belting out the high notes, rolling my R's, and pronouncing things in a massively, ridiculously posh English accent. So, I went online, looked up St Peter's Church (just down the street) and found the contact person for St Peter's choir. David emailed me back almost instantly - he just took over as head of the choirs in September and is desperately trying to rebuild the choirs. As of January, he'll be starting up the girl's choir in addition to the established men's choir, boy's choir, and "mixed volunteer choir" - however, if I popped in today around noon, I could meet him, see the choir, etc. Sure, why not.

Well, turns out the organ concert planned for this afternoon was cancelled, so they decided to throw in the choir instead. I wandered into the church at a little after noon and was almost immediately handed three choir books, a cassock and surplice, asked if we sang "Ding Dong Merrily on High" in the States, and met people as they filtered in - David the choir director (who looks exactly as you'd imagine a young, British, church-mouse looking choir master to look), Alice his wife (who looks exactly like the actress who played Evangeline in Nanny McPhee [she's one of those "oh, that girl" actresses and I know I've seen her in a bunch of stuff, but Evangeline just jumped straight out as that's how she behaved and carried herself), Ann (the middle-aged, strong-arm primary-school teacher soprano, there with her husband and late teenage son), Sam (who was the second to arrive, but I still barely spoke to), and... the guy who stood on the other side of the room... um... him. Cutest of the cute, however, were the two choir boys, who had to have been under the age of 9 and were running around in cassocks and could never find their place in the hymn books. (Eeeeee! Sooooo cute!) Thank heavens we were simply doing Christmas carols and I'm a soprano (huzzah for the melody line!) - there were only two songs I didn't know and one that I knew the lyrics but had a different melody line than I knew. People flitted in and we rehearsed for about half an hour, before the Vicar came in to give us a blessing and we walked out to our places in front of the much more massive congregation than I'm used to, usually only coming for Evensong. (And generally not on beautiful, sunny days like this one) That said.... ah, how I missed the sound of a chamber choir with the slow reverberation of harmony as it rings through the stone cathedral... Alice (which stills makes me giggle, as I watched an episode of Vicar of Dibley last night on youtube) sang two solos, David played the organ for a few of the numbers (most we did a capella), we probably did about 8-10 songs. Nearly towards the end, David asked those who had been in the choir for a year to stand - then those who had been there since Easter - then those who had joined over the summer - leaving me alone. He informed the congregation that I had joined up about half an hour before the concert and I got applause (whilst blushing terribly, I'm sure). He also informed the congregation that we'd be starting up the girls' choir in January, and would be getting two new boys for the boys choir - huzzah! Ann later informed me that it's getting competitive these days to sign boys for the choir, since they lose most of them to footie. ("It's not "cool" for boys to sing in the choirs anymore - is it like that in the States?" I had to stop myself from saying, "I don't know if boys in the States ever thought it was "cool" to sing in the choir". Especially with those FANTASTIC neck ruffs - seriously, so cute) 

So, yeah. Good times. I'll be back in January and bid them all Merry Christmas before heading out the door and back home for a snack. Duly fed, I am off to find the elusive fabric store in Winton, in the hopes of getting some of my projects for January started before I head off home. (My goal is to get them all cut out before I leave [provided I can find the right fabric at "Sewing World"], hopefully get a bit of sewing started tomorrow)

Thanksgiving

It should, perhaps, come as little surprise to those who know how much my mom enjoys cooking / how well my mom cooks that I didn't really think about the fact that "it's nearly Thanksgiving" should've equalled "I should probably think about, say, getting food and how to cook it", rather than just assuming that delicious food magically appears. So, I arrived home at 4PM after working on campus all morning on my muslin mock-up of my bustle/jacket and having a meeting/lunch with the costuming MA girls; what was probably supposed to be a working/intellectual discussion meeting eventually turned into a giggle fest as we made massive fun of the Fine Arts students and their "organic discoveries" and debated leaving the extra chocolate muffins somewhere around the campus with a sign declaring them to be an "interactive art exhibit" that required the audience to eat the muffins for the performance art to be performed. Good times. Anywho, I came home at 4, stopped by Lidl's for a whole chicken (I couldn't find a turkey, and - frankly - I like chicken better anyway), potatoes, carrots, rolls - you know, food. I sent out text messages inviting people along, and Abigail popped into the room a moment after I sent hers (whoops, she was home and just down the hall) - after popping the chicken (now *named* Turkey) in the oven, we wandered down to Marks and Sparks and picked up some sparkling white wine and mulled red. Thankfully for all involved, soon after arriving home, Ciaran and Zara arrived, and I put them on Turkey duty, seeing as they actually have spices and herbs and garlic and onions and yams and all that stuff. (Woot!)

In the meantime, as the meat and veg were cooking, I popped a bunch of honest-to-goodness pan popped popcorn, apples and caramel, and rolls, while everyone else arrived. Abigail made a playlist of "Thanksgiving" songs, though they basically ended up being songs she liked that were loosely tied to America, food, or just being together. While the food was cooking, we all channelled our inner eight-year-olds, turning construction paper into Indian head-dresses. Well, most were Indian head-dresses - Mione's was an impressive headband with cut-out lettering spelling "Happy Thanksgiving", Patrick's feather was actually a spiral that 'boinged' (and poked him in the eye several times during the evening), and Danny's (as she was the resident Canadian) was a maple leaf (although... well... she had to explain what it was). We also informed her that, as she had already HAD her Thanksgiving, she wasn't allowed to be thankful. So there. 

Once the food was cooked and arrived, we carved up the Turkey (well, Amy, then Patrick, then Mione carved it), then sat in a big circle, eating and going around saying what we were thankful for. Well, all but Danny (the Canadian). "Shut up, I'm trying to be thankful!" - Patrick. We finished up the meal with little apple pies and chocolates, then basically laid around the room for awhile, talking, arguing American football vs. rugby, throwing things at each other, and reading scripts. Like you do.

At around 11PM, I called home and, with the help of Patrick and Ciaran, got Skype working and got to see everyone back home. (Yeah!) After that, we just hung out, checking out such Thanksgiving-esque stuff online as stuffonmycat.com and Kate Beaton's comics, until Patrick, Mione, and Ciaran left to go to bed and I took one look at the dishes and said, "Um, I'm going to bed too!" :) Abigail promised to stop by later today to help me clean, so I'm going to take her up on that offer. (heehee) She also took more pictures than I did, so I'll put some of hers up later when I get them. 

On a side note, I looked up the Charlie Brown Thanksgiving special and YouTube and absolutely hated it - I never liked Peppermint Patty, and the whole of the special revolves around her being a total brat. And no Lucy! (grumble) I guess between the Great Pumpkin and the Christmas tree, they can't all be winners. I did, however, watch the Thanksgiving West Wing episode "Shibboleth", and still giggle inanely at Sam's Pilgrim Detective TV series. 

"A Play is Play"

I managed to get home without picking up muslin from the millinery closet. But I had a vision, I had an assignment, and I wasn't going to let a little thing like "not having materials" stand in my way. (I didn't for the garbage fashion show, did I?)
So, here is my "dualism" costume, done on my Ikea bodyform, made entirely out of paper towels. (I started with Kleenex, but it wasn't nearly strong enough for experimentation - besides, my sinus infection is still hanging around, so I need them)

Basic top and bottom - button up, collared, cap-sleeved shirt and long trousers. 

Added overskirt - with kimono/bustle back

And - ta-dah! - a few snaps unsnapped, some wiggling, and two rows of snap-tape snapped up, and - 

SUCCOR! SUCCOR! He will be my SUCCOR!

So, Songs of Praise is apparently filming at St Stephan's (sister church to St Peter's just down the road, though looking up St. Stephan's on their map suggests that it's quite close by... I think...) this weekend - granted, I only know the show through it coming to Dibley (see above - and do also look up part two and three to finish up the episode - the final big joke is just amazing), but I think I shall wander down and check it out come Saturday. If I find out that I'm going to be on the tele, I'll let you all know. :)
That said, I looked through their website to see what else was coming up at St. Stephan's and very nearly vomited into my mouth a little: two Saturdays from this one, they're having a movie night in the church. Please remember, this is a GORGEOUS late Victorian gothic church, with steeple, bells, stained glass, the whole nine yards - yet they're having a movie night. The movie? Mamma Mia. Yes, that Mamma Mia. With Colin Firth prancing about in an ABBA costume and Pierce Brosnan digesting huge chunks of scenery. But it gets better - what, oh what snacks could they provide to go along with this movie night? Digestives? Tea? Cake? Nope. (Brace yourself) Wine and hot dogs. Yes, I said it. Wine AND hot dogs.
There is no hope for humanity. I'm pretty certain Mamma Mia, wine, and hot dogs are one of the signs of the apocalypse.

Ummm...

Well... to be honest, the problem with having a blog for this trip to England is that, unlike my last trip to England, I'm not moving about every week, seeing new places and people. While I am having quite a bit of fun, I'm doing a decent amount of work as well, and generally spend my days in the same sort of ways - it makes for a fun life, but a boring blog. 

But, since I wanted to "update" you all, here's what's been going on over here:

My toaster died yesterday - I put in my morning muffins whilst getting ready for class and - pop, spark, smoke - the thing popped the fuse. Sadly, I discovered a moment later that said fuse was for every single fricking outlet in the flat - everything except the overhead light and the heaters was gone - and this includes my fridge and freezer. I went upstairs to one of the common rooms to blow dry my hair and called James - although he was as ambivalent again on the phone as he was about my window, he must've learned his lesson last time, because he was here at 4PM, flipped the fuse (it's in a box hidden away in the odd little "hallway" room between my room and the hallway, up against the ceiling), and even brought me a new toaster - a big shiny black one that does four pieces at a time. I'm wondering what else I could "accidently" break in order to get an upgrade. 

For all those who were wondering, I still have my American accent - there are just too many different variations on the "British" accent once you get over here to actually successfully mimic one - no matter what adaptations of Dickens and Austen would have you think. I'm falling into a British cadence of speaking, but I'm still quite American sounding. Whilst discussing what "British" things I should bring back to the states for Christmas, however, we passed by a bunch of typical British girls out for a night on the town: massively drunk and wearing, basically, gynecological robes. They told me to bring a scantily-clad girl back, to give everyone the true English experience, but I promised I'd do better, and simply dress like them, get massively plastered on the plane ride home, and stagger off the plane screeching, "MUMMY, DahDddy! Ah'm hoouuuwmme!" 

Dylan Moran was in town for one night of his tour - we managed to get tickets, only after continually forgetting about it and putting it off, then finally wandering over to the BIC to get tickets on the one day this past week that seriously felt like hurricane weather - torrential rain, winds that nearly knocked you off your feet, and absolutely freezing temperatures. Of course, it's been lovely every other day this week...

That said, the show was fantastic - here's a clip of his standup if you've never seen his work. Very funny guy. If you have an hour or two free, just watch everything on youtube by him. 

Afterwards, we went out for noodles and dessert (Mmm... chocolate fudge cake) and, in the course of the evening, it came out that nobody at the table (save myself) had ever seen "A Christmas Story". Needless to say, once December rolls around, we will be educating the British in quality American holiday films.

For Kristi - I got myself a Strongbow at the interval and thought of you. :) I was about halfway through it when 5 minutes were called - Ciaran asked if they needed to help me finish and I rather wish you had been there to give him a sarcastic laugh (I did it for you) - the drink was gone 2 minutes later. (Need help finishing my Strongbow, hah!)

And my early Christmas package arrived this morning - I wasn't sure why I was getting an ebay package from Missouri, until I opened it to find the Muppet Christmas Carol. Man, December is going to be GOOD TIMES for movie nights around here. :)

Huddled around radios in the forgotten corners of the world

Well, after my last post, I ended up going out to see the new James Bond movie with the group (while it wasn't horrific [unless you ask Ciaran], it was a good waste of time that I otherwise would spend futilely refreshing CNN's website, even while knowing that the polls wouldn't even close until well after midnight over here)

After getting back, we set up our own little election party (if you can't read Ciaran's sign, it says "Go Democracy") - we had a pretty decent crowd at the beginning of the evening, though many slowly but surely headed

 off to bed as the evening wore on. (Patrick and Mionne kept coming in and out to check in, and Julia stayed up until just about the very end) We set up the live stream of MSNBC (fantastic, as it was great quality and - happily - just went mute with a picture of the two candidates during commercial breaks)

After the majority of the East Coast had come in and we saw that it would be about an hour before we started to hear about the middle states, we put in Arrested Development and took a break from the talking heads. (A really fantastic choice - I highly recommend it next time) We tuned again for the middle states to come out, then went back to AD for the next break. We pulled out the bags of American candy, as well as stuck a pizza in the oven. Patrick stuck his head in to say goodnight (and good luck) sadly only about 5 minutes before the West Coast (woot!) was called, and Obama was officially put over the 270 mark.

There was much whooping and hollering and loud music and candy thrown and dancing around the room. But, more to the point, we all kind of looked around and realized that we had just lived through a historic moment - right there and then. 

I loved being there with Brits, because I got to hear their perspective - not only from a European "we love Obama" perspective, but also to hear their take on American politics vs. British politics - and their views on Maggie, Tony, and Gordon. They marveled at the vote counts - over 50 million votes for each candidate. We cheered as the electoral votes for Obama just kept going up, and basically started to go a little crazy from the adrenaline, the fact that it was well past 5AM, and the massive amounts of sugar flowing through our veins.

We kept the video going to watch McCain's concession speech - for my part, I was really, really glad that this was such a clear-cut election, and that McCain got out there so soon - although I suspect that the polarization of America isn't going to go away that soon, thank God this wasn't another "we'll know in a few days" kind of election. We all agreed that McCain's speech was well-written, well-delivered, and very gracious - we also all agreed that he looked like he very desperately needed a nap and a cessation of stress and anxiety. And major kudos to Steve Schmidt for keeping Palin from making her own speech at the concession - the moment was John's, and he did an excellent job with a heartbreaking task.

Finally, Obama came out to give his acceptance speech and, after much screaming and cheering, we shushed and hushed and all - comically nearly simultaneously scooted our chairs closer to the computer. The speech was magnificent. If I didn't know better, I'd swear it was Toby and Sam's writing, with some WG Snuffy playing in the background. We let out a cheer when he mentioned those of us listening abroad (and, when he mentioned those of us in the 'forgotten corners of the world', someone muttered, "that's us!" to laughter), and by the end of it Zara and I were crying, though I suspect the red eyes in the rest of the room were not entirely due to the lateness of the hour. True to the fact that I was surrounded by film students, when Obama was joined onstage by Biden and their families, se

t to music and lit beautifully and surrounded by cheering, crying people, we couldn't help wonder aloud if we had accidently put in a movie, rather than simply watching the news. 

Since it was nearly six, we simply hung out talking until 6:15, when we all (save Ciaran) wandered down to the bus station, gibbering maniacally and randomly shouting out YES WE CAN to any pointless question asked. Zara and I got off near Cemetery Junction, where we walked down to Bournemouth U in search of pancakes - when we found that the school cafeteria didn't open until 9, we simply went back to her place for Cornflakes. I arrived on campus to "help" with a film project of Julia and Patrick's - only to basically collapse on a bench outside the costume shop, coughing like the living dead. (Between the cough I already had, the screaming, the crying, the lack of sleep, and the very, very cold air, I didn't sound all that great) Patrick and Julia put me back on the bus, and I came back home and crawled into bed. I unfortunately woke too late to join the group for Bonfire Night in Wimbourne, but Bournemouth is having a fireworks festival this weekend, so I'll just head out to that and pretend it's still the 5th. :) 

Abortions for some, miniature American flags for others!

Today (being Tuesday) was my day for hauling myself out of bed early and heading into campus for tutorials and staff-led seminars - we had a "research methods" lecture from Ronnie, which was interesting information (for the most part) interspersed with the most random pictures and video clips - he had informed us up front that he tried to make the lecture more "lighthearted" and "amusing" so we wouldn't be terribly bored. :) An hour and a half break gave me time to go turn in books at the library and pick up some new ones - I realized that I was truly entering into the spirit of an MA program when I realized that, after browsing through the shelves upon selves of wondrous costume books, I ended up checking out 2 biographies of Elizabeth I, a sketching book, and a book on drag. :) Back to the room where we had a staff-led seminar on the topic of audience - except that "audience" when by the wayside as he began to meander off the topic of user-interface technology redefining audience (youtube, blogs, flickr, second life, etc) and began to just show off favourite new technologies. Interesting, but you arrive at the end of it going, "... huh." 

THE POINT of coming on to post today, however, is that every single person in my MA asked me straight off from seeing me, "Did you vote?!" I assured them that, yes, I mailed in my overseas ballot over three weeks ago. Again, the level of knowledge of the current political state over here is pretty impressive - everyone wanted to know when the polls closed, and many were able to list some of the swing states, wanting to know where they were, so they could keep an eye on them. 

On a bragging note, a few nights ago Julia and I were up super late and talk fell to the election -I mentioned that one of the big things of this election was the incoming President's ability to elect new Supreme Court judges. Which led to explaining the Supreme Court, judicial, executive, and representative powers, the Senate and the House of Representatives, checks and balances, how a bill becomes a law - I was a one-woman Schoolhouse Rock and I really managed to surprise myself with how much I remembered from 11th grade Civics with Mrs. Campbell. :) (West Wing tends to help, too, though) 

That said, it's after 6 here, but obviously the day is just getting started over there - if you haven't already, go out and vote! (If not for all the people of the world who are going to have to deal with him just as much as you will, only they don't get a say in the selection, then for me! Or, if not for any of those reasons, go vote so you can get some free Starbucks. :) 

   

Halloween

I guess it just depends on where you go - the illustrious Katy Strange mentioned last year that she didn't really have any trick-or-treaters, and that she had to push the party organizer to do anything. Over here in Bournemouth, however, there was definitely a feel in the air that it was Halloween. (Granted, the stores didn't get as decked out in Halloween nick-nacks as the states do, but that's just because they're all covered in Christmas EVERYTHING. [And have been for some time...] ) Still, most stores carried a small section of costume accessories, and the town organized a family Halloween event down in the lower gardens - face painting, magicians, the local dance troupes danced to Enya (sure, why not), they had a pumpkin carving contest (as pictured - it was quite lovely seeing them reflected in the small river, though I did rather miss the smell of carving my own pumpkin, then letting it burn with a candle in it until it started to go) I do seem to remember that we have a great picture of young Bonnie holding up a smily-face pumpkin, with young Scott angrily stabbing his unmercifully in the background. Good times.

But what is a costumer to do, with such a short time to prepare and no Jo-Ann's in sight? I took stock of my wardrobe - at which point "little black dress... black heels... eureka!

(I did actually have a cigarette holder, I just couldn't get the touchpad to work with a glove on, so I had to have one hand free and glove-less)

I ended up buying a fall and the tiara and - yes - I made the joke several times that it was more hair than I will EVER have on my head throughout my entire life - combined - and I kept laughing as it gave me another probably 4-5 inches of height that I kept forgetting about until I'd get it caught in something. On the plus side, I managed to fool quite a few people into thinking it was my real hair - after putting these in hundreds of times on actors, it was the oddest sensation putting it into my own hair, as the sensory muscles of my hands knew what to do, but I couldn't see what I was doing. I imagine it's equivalent to field stripping a gun blindfolded but, not having done so (and, I'm sure, those who would do so would get a kick out of me comparing it to putting in false hair) I can only imagine.

The party here in the Halls started at 9 - at some point we left for Benn-with-two-N's house, then wandered off to Adam's in Winton. Most people called me simply Audrey Hepburn, though I did get a "Lady Di". Of course, I was going with Mionne in a full bunny [think mascot type] costume (a bunny wearing a bra and panties stuffed with sweets, no less), and that rather attracts the eye a bit more. The pot dealers were out and about at the second party and Patrick and I had rather a laugh at one of them who was quite completely off his gourd, but still trying to explain to us that pot opens up your mind - all the while forgetting what every other word he was trying to say was. He tried to explain American history to us (which I got quite a kick out of), eventually leading to his explaining about a movie about pot - when I guessed he was referring to Reefer Madness, he took it into his head that I obviously must be / have been a pot-head. I didn't even bother to try to explain to him that not a day would go by in the SPU theatre without someone singing "Reefer Madness: the Musical". When even standing upright on a level, unmoving surface is difficult, explaining the madness that is SPU theatre is a bit out of the question. :)

After rounding up the posse, calling a cab, and getting back to the halls (probably around 3?), we ended up hanging out, talking, and eventually - as all good evenings should end - putting in Arrested Development. Again, I was the obnoxious one laughing at all the jokes before they happened (though I tried to be quieter about it this time). Around 5:30, Patrick and Ciaran left, leaving me and Zara (who actually lived in Winton - closer to the second party - but had followed the crowd and come back with us), who crawled in to bed exhausted... then ended up talking US and UK politics until nearly 7.

All in all, a pretty damn fantastic Halloween. :)

Fresher's Flu

So, I was amazed and delighted my first week here to discover that I had not, in fact, contracted any illness from the plane - usually, I get off a plane (especially one absolutely filled to the brim with people who seemed to enjoy engaging in horrifically phlegmy coughs, as my flight was from Chicago to Heathrow) and immediately start feeling miserable. This time, however, my misery came solely from the frustrations of banking issues (which, sadly, are still something of a headache - seriously, never try having any dealings with international banks unless you are, in fact, a multimillion dollar conglomeration) and the basics of trying to figure out where everything is while under the influence of jet lag. No coughs, sneezes, or sore throats, however, which was a massive boon - especially considering that nearly all of the halls, when I arrived, were under the last strains of Fresher's Flu, a horrific cold / fever / coughing jag that had several of Bourne Chambers coughing up blood before the end. (While reminiscent of Moulin Rouge, I will only agree to cough up blood if I get to do it in yards and yards of red satin while being held and sung to by Ewan McGregor)

That said, I went in to meet with Nigel and Rebecca (my course leaders) yesterday to discuss my study proposal and their suggestions to get me pointed in the right direction. They said basically everything I expected - don't focus solely on construction and history (because they knew I would], because that's BA level; I need to focus instead of the influence of Virginia Woolf, feminism, gender issues not just in Orlando and in those specific historic points, but gender across the board and how it relates to the world around me and - more to the point - me specifically. It was suggested (and I frankly love the idea) that I should go and live in the Bloomsbury area of London for a week or two, to just soak up the atmosphere of the area, spend the week in the British Museum, get a readers pass to the British Library, frequent feminist bookshops, etc. "You need to become Virginia Woolf," Nigel told me... before adding, "Just, make sure you stop short of turning schizophrenic and taking a swim with your pockets full of stones." Good advice, I'm sure.

Having finally felt like my MA has a direction to go in, I returned home exhausted and post-adrenaline drained. I had the brilliant idea of going to visit Charleston, the country home of the Bloomsbury set, on the coat just past Brighton. They only have two more tours this year - this Friday and next Friday and, given that next Friday is Halloween, I decided to be spontaneous and amazing and make a trip of it to Brighton and go this Friday. After looking up various routes, train and bus, etc, I realized I was tired and decided to take a one-hour nap to perk myself up for work in the evening.

I woke up over 5 hours later with a painfully sore throat, massive headache, and feeling like utter crap. Julia came down and we watched Sweeney Todd, then went upstairs to find Ciaran and Zara making pasta. Patrick joined us eventually and we ended up staying up all night talking and making fun of the people passing on the street below. I went to bed hoping that it was a passing feeling of crap, from the stress of putting together the study proposal, the odd sleeping patterns, and whatever.

No such luck - at least, it still hasn't completely hit, but at this point the defenses are crumbling. I've spent the day inside, guzzling down orange juice, eating all my fruit, eating everything in my fridge (as I tend to do when cranky and uncomfortable), reading other works by Woolf until I feel the uncontrollable urge to destroy the male sex - at which point I put it down and switch over to any number of history / culture of / gender and fashion books, West Wing episodes, or - the highlight of my day - the new episode of Pushing Daisies. (Seriously, just an absolutely fantastic show) 

On the plus side of life, I've started the ball rolling towards closing down one of my three dysfunctional bank accounts, meaning that - hopefully - all my money will soon be back into a bank account that I can actually access (woot); still no idea how to actually get that money into pounds sterling and across the pond, but being able to actually pay off credit cards is a good thing. I do have a final project in mind for my MA and an ability to get there - while I'm disappointed that I won't be able to do the Charleston House tour this calendar year, there's always next year (plenty of time then), and it's always more fun to do these things after you have a better grasp of the history behind them. (My sole knowledge of the life and times of Virginia Woolf currently comes from her wikipedia page, sparknotes page for Orlando, and what little I've seen of The Hours. I could also cite having seen the movie Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? but beyond the fact that Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton are amazing (... and... I'm sure Virginia would agree...?), it doesn't help me much) And hey, I decided on my Halloween costume, so huzzah! Frankly, as much as it sucks to be sick, at least I'm doing an independent MA - I didn't have to go in to campus today, don't have to tomorrow, and don' t have to Monday - I can't imagine the kids who ended up missing the first week and a half of classes because they were coughing up blood. Not an encouraging start to the year.

And heck, even if this does progress to a nasty place, who's to say that Ewan won't show up and start singing Elton John outside my window?

Nearly election time...

World Citizens Prefer Obama to McCain by Nearly 4-to-1

I was interested to get out of the country for election time (well relieved, really, knowing that the attack ads were just going to get worse and certain candidates were just going to keep saying stupider and stupider things ["for purposes of confidentiality, let's call her S. Palin... no, too obvious... Sarah P."] ), but yes - also interested to see what the rest of the world thinks of us as we embark on choosing a new leader. I decided early on that I wouldn't bring up the elections unless someone specifically asked me about them, determined not to be that obnoxious political American.

I knew going in that the rest of the world favored Obama - but I have to say, at least from my little corner of the world, that I completely underestimated. I have yet to meet a single person who wants McCain to win. When the conversation turns to American elections, I am given a serious, deadly look, a quiet "who are you going to vote for?", then a huge, massive smile when I say Obama. Five different people have asked, "Do you actually know anyone who is voting for McCain?" The rhetoric of McCain = Bush really, REALLY connected over here, and well... although the Brits are starting to admit that we can't blame Bush for EVERYTHING (say, the dinosaurs dying out or the Scary Movie franchise), there's a LOT of pent up aggression there. 

And the funny thing is, as you would expect, we get basically NONE of the everyday news stories over here (well, those who actually have a tele and watch the news might get a little more than I do, but...) nobody seems to care or let on that Palin sat back and let SNL make fun of her to her face, nobody knows about the "Ayers" connection, or ACORN, nobody gives a crap who the hell Joe the Plumber is (or if he's even a real plumber), etc. (Though Laura did ask why anyone would be flattered to be called a "Joe Six-Pack", and Ciaran wanted to know why Palin would want to be compared to a pitbull) The day to day minutia that the talking heads love to sit and debate about for hours (No flag pin?!? HE'S A WITCH!!) is not involved in the equation at all. Yet the amazing point is that most of the college students here (17 year olds, mind) can debate American politics and the proposals made by both candidates with me really, sickeningly well. I think it's a rather sad state of affairs when 17 year olds who don't even live in that country know more about its potential leaders than adults actually living in said country. Hm.

In order to counteract that sad last point, I leave you with a clip that never fails to make me smile when I consider American elections (just ignore the first few moments if you've never watched the show). 

Whole houses, right off the ground...

Culture Shifts

Our MA group this year is a fascinating mixture. We are a group of 24 students: 8 from Fine Arts, 7 from Photography, 6 from Costume, and 3 animation students; ranging from straight-out-of-their-BA to "mature" students; and from all over the UK, as well as from the US, Iran, India, Serbia, Greece, Lithuania and China. We not only know who the others in our discipline are, but we're also divided into study groups made up of all four disciplines. (I'm the only costumer in mine) If I learn absolutely NOTHING about costumes in this year (which I'd have to work really, really hard at), it was worth the journey just for the cultural experience. 

Wednesday and Thursday we had to give a Presentation of Self - a 10-20 speech about who we are, what we've been doing, and what we're hoping to do. I was surprised at how nervous nearly all of the class was at the idea of getting up and talking for ten minutes - especially knowing it was just ten minutes in front of a friendly audience talking about a subject that none of us could contradict them about. In addition to talking through my resume (with a powerpoint of pictures) and my study proposal, I started off with a map of the US, and pictures of the Space Needle, Microsoft and Apple, Starbucks, Boeing, and Kurt Cobain, with the notation that I would be more than willing to point out the things Sleepless in Seattle, Grey's Anatomy, and Fraiser got / get wrong about the city. 

As a side note (though it kind of relates...), when I was getting my UK HSBC bank account up and running, the guy asked where I was from in the States. When I told him Seattle, he mentioned that he'd love to travel there and see that "museum of music - the one with the famous architect". Of all the tourist sites that this man wanted to see, the first one he brought up was the EMP. Now, it's probably just that it doesn't appeal to me (and, frankly, I've always made fun of the fact that it's a crumpled up ball of paper sprung to life), but it just rather caught me off-guard that this came up before Pike Place, the Space Needle, etc. 

Ruta (Fine Arts MA, from Lithuania) later told me that she loved listening to my presentation, because she loves "hearing me talk". I always assumed the American accent was harsh and grating sounding to the rest of the world, because, well, frankly, our vowels are very harsh and nasal, but apparently quite a few of them found my accent "cute". Hmm...

For the second day of presentations, Stephanie and Sally brought in digestives to pass around - digestives are... well... kind of cracker-y cookies, rather than really sugary cookies. Here's what wikipedia has to say. We remarked that we should do a "snack of the day" and bring in treats every time we have to come in. I mentioned that I could see if I could get American "sweets" sent over, "like Hershey's or Reeses". I was amazed to see the blank stares of confusion I got - I had to explain the concept behind a chocolate-peanut butter cup ("Like a rolo?"), and I'm not sure I fully explained it. The only people who knew any of these (Julia and I had to explain what a Kiss was!) were those who had lived abroad in the states or had travelled to them, and - while I was perfectly willing to admit that American chocolate is crap in comparison to English chocolate (and they admitted that English chocolate was far inferior to European chocolate) - I was shocked to hear that everyone thought the idea of chocolate and peanut butter was fantastically disgusting, and that Tom (who had tried Reeses) thought it tasted like vomit. :(

Having no class today, I stayed up late for a card game (Kent) tournament, after watching "Miss Potter" with Julia, and was woken up early this morning by a pounding on the door. After throwing on a sweatshirt, I opened the door to - huzzah! - James and two contractors who immediately jumped up onto my window ledge and began unscrewing the window. James had posted a notice that he would be taking a "well-deserved holiday" for the next two weeks (to which we all laughed quite heartily), so I despaired of ever getting the window fixed. That said, the squeaky, obnoxious, American wheel gets the grease, as - having put my complaint online into the system - he was eager to get it fixed before he left. I am absolutely AMAZED at how much quieter the room is, and I haven't turned any of the heaters on all day. 

I made my way back down to the post office, where I scheduled them to drop off all the boxes on Monday (when I'll be here), and trundled two home with me - the rest of my DVD's and a box of books and miscellany. Despite fearing the worst, the DVD's were all fine (actually in much better condition than the other box, with no breaks to any of the cases) - considering this box had in it Arrested Development and the West Wing, I was glad to see there were no casualties of war. Both boxes also contained some little things like magnets, my figure-drawing man, my little bocca della verita, Anne Taintor coasters, quiach, etc - the room is definitely starting to take on a more "home-y" feel. :) A bookshelf built into the wall runs all along one wall, and it just looks so terribly academic having it slowly but surely fill up with books. (Nerdy delight!)

Also in today's activities were a visit to my "local" GP (walking distance, though I'm doubting whether it's truly walking distance if you're actually sick) to get registered. Five forms, proof of identity, proof of address, blood pressure test, and urine sample later, and I hear from them in two days whether I've been accepted as a patient. Very interesting...

Made a note in my diary on the way here. Simply says: "Bugger".

"Well, quite."

I received my first box of mailed books on Monday, then nothing for Tuesday - odd, since I mailed off five boxes at the same time. Wednesday I received a note saying that I had six boxes waiting for me at the post office, since no one was here to sign for them. (grumble) Since it was after 5:30, I decided to cross my fingers that someone would be here today. No such luck. It was, however, only just 5:00, so I raced down the street to Lansdowne roundabout - obviously, there was no way I was carting six 20 lb boxes back to my flat, but I could grab one and have a movie to watch tonight. (Plus, I don't have class tomorrow, so I'll be able to be here to sign for the remaining five) Unfortunately, the crossing was not kind to DVD cases. While most are... basically unscathed, many have had massive cracks along the edges, making them unable to close, or at least with giant gaping holes along the top. I checked inside and all the DVD's seemed to have stayed in position, however, meaning that they're all still fine and watchable...

with the one notable exception of Blackadder series four - the WWI episodes. The top of the plastic case on that side was torn off entirely, making the case unable to close. This must've twisted that end of the DVD case, because the disk has been massively cracked alongside its inner ring, making it unable to even insert into a DVD player, much less play. 

The heartbreaking thing is that this is my favourite of the five disks - I honestly wouldn't have cared a whit if the first series had broken (I don't think I've ever even put it in), and while I love two, three, and five, the WWI episodes are the ones I return to again and again and again - and not just for Hugh Laurie in drag. (Although that Georgina is pretty bloody fantastic) It's not just for Darling (cue the facial twitch), for Stephan Fry's brilliant portrayal of the absolutely idiotic, not for Baldrick's cooking... or poetry ("Boom boom boom boom, boom boom boom. Boom boom boom boom, boom boom boom"), or even for the fact that for an absolutely brilliant comedy series, the ending ALWAYS makes me bawl like a baby. 

Anyway, the broken disk is sitting by itself over in the kitchen area - I don't have the heart to throw it away just yet, so it's sitting under an RIP card and my silk daffodil. 

Goodbyeeee....

 

A few updates whist I eat breakfast

For those who don't know, pretty much EVERYTHING in England shuts down on Sundays - shops are only allowed to be open for about four hours, leaving you with the choice of, say, the pubs or... the pubs after about 2PM. (Though, to be fair, the Lidl across the street was open for some time after that, as Julia and I went over and bought dinner [and some microwave popcorn and gummi bears for movie nights] ) At 4, however, I wandered over to St Peter's for Evensong - while I was disappointed that their boy's choir wasn't in singing (mmmm... boy choirs), their men's chorus was quite lovely, their choice of hymns quite nice (I actually knew one of them! Woot!), and the two readings (Proverbs and a parable from Luke) were nicely chosen and read by the Vicar. The church itself is absolutely sumptuous, with Victorian gothic-y goodness, stained glass, painted walls, gilt, and all the festoons of glory with nary a video screen to be seen. :) During the final prayer, the Vicar offered a prayer for the Americans, as [we] select our new leader - "a new leader for, well, nearly the whole world". Rather a sobering thought. I'm sorry for my flickr account not working correctly yet - I can't figure out how to specify that the pictures are meant to be public. In the meanwhile, however, the church's website has some great pictures: http://www.stpetersbournemouth.org , then go to "Gallery" - be sure to scroll to the bottom and do the 360 degree view - quite breathtaking for such a randomly placed little church.

We then wandered down to the beach to sit in the sand, people watch, and soak up the last rays of summer - the sand is phenomenally immaculate - a few sticks, some seaweed, some shells, but no miles and miles of beer cans or broken glass (or even, I was quite impressed given the number of smokers around here, cigarette butts). They have bins pretty much all over the lower gardens area, but I'm amazed to see that people actually use them.

Then, over to the movie theatre to see what was playing - it took me rather aback to see that Brideshead Revisited was still playing, and Burn After Reading was still headlining - then into the movie to see trailers rolling for movies that were "already out". Bond doesn't get here until Halloween, for example. (Of course, I make this an example, but don't actually know when it comes out over there...)

4AM

Well, nothing brings a group of people together so well as ... a 4AM fire alarm.

To be fair, while I was in my pajamas and in bed, I wasn't asleep quite yet. I'm still getting used to the various pings and creaks, as well as the drunks wandering the streets, screaming, shouting, cackling, and raucously carousing in a way that really makes me wish I had brought Frederick so that I could run them over. (Homicidal? Sure, but you'd feel the same way at 3:30AM if one of your windows didn't close all the way)

Out of nowhere, what was basically an air-raid siren went off, and I sprung out of bed in terror. First at the horrific noise, but a second later out of panic - my room is separated from the rest of the rooms by a small hallway, so it sounded like it was just sounding in my room alone. Nothing was smoking, none of the hobs were turned on, the microwave hasn't been touched, but I wondered if the excess heat from the heaters (I have to crank them to cover the cold air from the window) had triggered it. I fanned the alarm for a moment, then sucked it up, put on my coat and shoes, grabbed my purse, and wandered into the hallway, where everyone was slowly wandering down in various states of dress and bleariness. 

Turns out everyone was feeling guilty, but everyone stayed in remarkably good spirits for a 4AM wakeup - please to note that, since we none of us saw any smoke, we all just stayed inside in the main hallway - way too cold outside. When the firemen arrived, they did a quick search, then checked out the fire panel. The facts were these: right in the main hallway, there's a fire alarm button (push in case of fire) - the button is usually covered by a plastic cover... which was lying over by the window, leaving the button exposed. Someone had obviously come in and accidentally bumped into it - no burnt popcorn, no overheating heaters, nobody smoking out the upstairs window ... (wink wink) :) Best part? The main hallway has a CCTV camera, so we don't all have to pay the fine for the firemen being called.

They managed to turn off the air raid siren, but something was kind of screwy with it, leaving a 3 second interval beep, which sounds rather like submarine sonar. Unfortunately, they didn't have the key to turn it off, so we got to listen to our main hallway beeping for the rest of the night.

In not so great news... it's still beeping. Nearly 6PM later, and the beep is still there. While I'm hoping that when James (Finally!) shows up to fix the beep, he'll also bring a ladder and hammer to bump my window back into place, I'm frankly hoping that this happens sometime before, say, I graduate.  

First few days, a few more details

I'm delighted this picture came out so well - the plane ride from O'Hare to Heathrow was only about half full, so the woman sitting next to me moved further back, giving me two seats to myself on the side (she also left her pillow!) - I propped myself up against the side of the plane with my feet up on the other seat, put on some quiet instrumental music, and "slept" as well as you do on a plane. Especially after a beef and potatoes dinner that really, really didn't look or smell appetizing. (That's right, I had the lasagna) 

Breakfast, however, was fine and the view out the window as dawn broke was absolutely spectacular. 

Uh, you can just let me off here, guys. 

I should also take this moment to say that I owe England and its people massive amount of karma points, because - after retrieving my 48 lb wheeled bag and 34 lb bag (paired with my 38 lb carry-on) - at nearly any moment that I started to (I'm sure) look panicked, somebody pointed me in the right direction - and, more to the point, in many cases helped carry my bag. Being the overly cautious American abroad, I watched those bags like a hawk, but there is no way I would've made it onto, off again, down a flight of stairs, across the subway under the trains, up the stairs, back onto, then off again two different trains without a whole slew of very sweet people. (I got off the train at Reading, and saw that to get to the next train, I needed to take the downstairs subway. I'm sure I looked panicked, because one of the trainstation policeman snatched it up and carried them down the staircase, then radioed ahead to his colleague on the other side to help me back up) 

My room is actually really quite huge - I had prepared myself for a dorm room, but it's actually really quite spacious, triangular shaped, with three large windows with ledges wide enough and long enough for two to sit on quite comfortably - Julia came down last night to hang out, and we watched the drunks parade past our window. In sad news (but happy in its eventual consequences), I finally discovered that the middle-most window has it's top pane shoved out of the frame by about 3/4" - that's why my room gets so cold when the heaters turn off, and why the street outside sounds so loud. While I'm excited to get it fixed and not have to listen to the drunks at 3AM anymore, James (Halls Officer) promised he'd get to it "not today, but... um... probably tomorrow. Hmm... 

The funniest frustration that I've faced whilst being here is that, while there is a ton of shopping around, I have to actually go into the stores themselves to figure out what they sell - I look down the street for somewhere to buy toothpaste and toilet paper and see Peacocks, Wilkinsons, Boots (well, I do know that one), Barleys, etc. 

On the odd side, there is a lot of shopping, but no nearby grocery stores. The closest Tesco, Sainsbury's, and Waitrose are all far enough away that I would have to take the bus. On the plus side, I discovered on their website that Sainsbury's delivers to my post code, so I'm expecting a delivery of good old-fashioned home requirements like peanut butter, toaster waffles ("American style" no less), and microwave popcorn in about two hours. Again, like with the stores, there were very few "American" brands, so I'm going to have to do a few taste-tests to see whose I like best. 

  

Come see Bournemouth with me...

You may need to register for a Flickr account, but come follow me around Bournemouth on this lovely day... 

(More pictures to come...)

Alive and well!

(And in an internet cafe, so I'll try to keep this brief...)
Everything went well, everything went (basically) according to plan, and both plane rides were ontime - the first a few minutes early. I found my Yotel (thank God!) and was able to order my train tickets, take a very long, hot shower, and take a nap. From there, an AirRail trip, onto a train to Penzance (from which I departed at Reading [Redding] ), then a quick connect to another train to Bournemouth, finally a quick little taxi ride to my room at Bourne Chambers. I got a quick "Here's your keys", then was left on my own - my room is actually quite a bit larger than I expected - I'm quite delighted with it. :) (Pictures to come when my new battery charger is done) I went out to get my HSBC account opened, only to discover that I hadn't brought quite the right paperwork with me. So, I went back home and - after a few minutes of unpacking, then saying "Aw, screw it", went to bed at 430. (Before I get ahead of myself, there was an issue with the front door buzzer - namely, it didn't work. I had to buzz the other rooms, until I finally found someone who was in who could come get me) Around 1100, I heard a knock on the door and opened it to meet Patrick, Mia, and Julia (the girl who let me in earlier, who unfortunately was in because she has the Fresher's Flu and has been coughing blood) - all are acting students at AIB, and gave me a hearty welcome (as well as an impromtu reading from the phone book by Patrick), then invited me up to the lounge to watch "Young Frankenstein". I'm (obviously) in a good crowd. We grabbed Kieran on the top floor, then a few more wafted in and out, though by that point my brain was entirely fried and, whilst I can remember having a great time, I don't really remember a lot of it. :) Came back down and slept until noon today, when I wandered out to do some random wandering, as well as my first shopping expedition (with only two hands, I can only carry so much, so I need to pace myself) - this was for basics around the house (toilet paper, toothpaste [they confiscated mine at SeaTac! Who knew toothpaste was a liquid?!). I'm still looking for a grocery store... hmm... Unfortunately, I'm going to need an internet cable which they mention in my various school brochures are "available" - however, I suspect that means "available from the IT desk on the school campus" - where I'll be venturing tomorrow. So, I decided that, post-shopping, I would either need to find a place that sells phonecards or an internet cafe, to let everyone know I'm still alive and well.
My plan for tomorrow is to find the campus, get that cord, and (should the weather still be beautiful - it's a bit chilly, but gorgeously sunny - I took a quick jaunt down to the beach [which is just a really, really short walk away] and it is absolutely GORGEOUS! I think the closest comparison I can give is Cannon Beach, but it's also within the context of being next to a massive park of beautifully kept lawns, an aviary, art gallery, theatre on the pier, and... a mini golf course. (Woot) There's a seriously adorable little carousel on the pier-area that was playing "Get Me to the Church" as I walked past. If the weather is as pretty tomorrow, I'll try to go wandering about and get pictures. For Kristi - the town itself reminds me of the shopping areas of Cambridge.
Anywho, should be back online from the privacy of my own room tomorrow, when I can give a more detailed update without watching the clock. Lots of love!

Pretty Fall Arrived!

So, while I was home for the weekend (by which I mean Sunday, since we had a work call on Saturday), apparently autumn arrived in Seattle. It's not as though it was broiling hot on Saturday or anything, but there was definitely something more fall-y today: a crispness to the air, a few leaves changing color, and - yes - a large pile of dead leaves right outside the gates at Intiman. (And yes, I made sure to walk through them, to enjoy the crunching noise they make)

This really psychs me out, since that means that, officially, the last season I had to count down before leaving has just started - fall, after all, means back to school! :)

The Final Countdown

(Has anyone in this family ever even seen a chicken?)

Well, I'm down to the final weeks before I head off for England - I posted Tristram Shandy's chapter on instructions for memoir readers on the 6th (I leave October 6th), and I'm writing today on the first Monday of the month (again, one month away) 

I'm actually writing onboard the Kitsap ferry, officially being able to claim that I have now commuted to work via ferry at least once. 

I'll be working at Seattle Repertory Theatre on All the King's Men up until the last Friday before I leave - I was nervous about doing this at first, thinking that I had so much I had to do - having gotten nearly all of that list done during Labor Day weekend, I'm very, very glad to have something to fill my last few days, so I'm not sitting at home, counting down the minutes. That said, I do have evenings and weekends free, and would love to see everyone before I head out. 

The Life and Opinions of Bonnie Prather, Gentlewoman

I have undertaken, you see, to write not only my life, but my opinions also; hoping and expecting that your knowledge of my character, and of what kind of mortal I am, by the one, would give you a better relish for the other: As you proceed farther with me, the slight acquaintance, which is now beginning betwixt us, will grow into familiarity; and that, unless one of us is in fault, will terminate in friendship. - O diem proeclarum! - then nothing which has touched me will be thought trifling in its nature, or tedious in its telling. Therefore, my dear friend and companion, if you should think me somewhat sparing of my narrative on my first setting out - bear with me, and let me go on, and tell my story my own way: - Or, if I should seem now and then to trifle upon the road, - or should sometimes put on a fool's cap with a bell to it, for a moment or two as we pass along, - don't fly off, - but rather courteously give me credit for a little more wisdom than appears upon my outside; - and as we jog on, either laugh with me, or at me, or in short, do anything, - only keep your temper.

- The Life and Opinions of Bonnie Prather, Gentlewoman

(with help from and thanks to Tristram Shandy and Lawrence Sterne)