Warwick castle again - hugely impressive
Wednesday, 31 August 2005
Tuesday, 23 August 2005
Wednesday, 17 August 2005
Saturday, 13 August 2005
2 non related items
1) Pitchers of beer are called jugs here- can you imagine ordering a 'jug of beer' with a straight face? Asif.
2) I think our house has become Inspiration Point. Bird couples have been copulating conspicuously on the fence in our back garden. It involves a lot of flapping and chasing and looks altogether like no one is having fun. I have a notion to throw a jug of beer on them.
2) I think our house has become Inspiration Point. Bird couples have been copulating conspicuously on the fence in our back garden. It involves a lot of flapping and chasing and looks altogether like no one is having fun. I have a notion to throw a jug of beer on them.
Thursday, 11 August 2005
a crime in cambridge
Mark's bike was nicked.
Like the true Cambridgers, we biked to an outdoor comedy show at Jesus Green last Saturday night.
Double locked to my greenie... the thieves cut through 2 ropy strong locks and were off in the night with his impressive-looking but really crap mountain bike. And my proud greenie, with her pretty orange -flowered bell and basket stood alone and abandoned -- her pal being ripped from her. The crooks must not have thought she was worth stealing.
True, the 2 bikes hadn't know each other long, but were quite attached to each other after the many trips to the gym and country rides and being locked together. After all, it made for intimate spoke connections and wheel touching. And with her being a tried and true type -- a little beat up but well loved and him being sporty but a little inept -- they made a perfect pair.
Now she has a new friend paid for with insurance money -- posh and proper mountain bike with red stripes. She isn't sure of this new flash pal. What kind of bike is he? Will he appreciate her quirky nature and classic styling? Will he wait for her as she works her 3 speeds or zoom past in a showy off-road cloud of dust?
And will Mark's old bike just move on to the next pal, or is he silently leaking oil in grief?
Like the true Cambridgers, we biked to an outdoor comedy show at Jesus Green last Saturday night.
Double locked to my greenie... the thieves cut through 2 ropy strong locks and were off in the night with his impressive-looking but really crap mountain bike. And my proud greenie, with her pretty orange -flowered bell and basket stood alone and abandoned -- her pal being ripped from her. The crooks must not have thought she was worth stealing.
True, the 2 bikes hadn't know each other long, but were quite attached to each other after the many trips to the gym and country rides and being locked together. After all, it made for intimate spoke connections and wheel touching. And with her being a tried and true type -- a little beat up but well loved and him being sporty but a little inept -- they made a perfect pair.
Now she has a new friend paid for with insurance money -- posh and proper mountain bike with red stripes. She isn't sure of this new flash pal. What kind of bike is he? Will he appreciate her quirky nature and classic styling? Will he wait for her as she works her 3 speeds or zoom past in a showy off-road cloud of dust?
And will Mark's old bike just move on to the next pal, or is he silently leaking oil in grief?
Sunday, 24 July 2005
Saturday, 23 July 2005
boozey biking
As you know, I am in love with my bike. We go everywhere together. I tackle hills, that left side of the road thing, narrow streets, buses, pot-holed bike paths, bugs flying into my person, aggressive fellow bikers, oblivious pedestrians who step out onto the road without a second look, one-way streets, rainy weather, night time ... and now, (it had to happen) I can successfully add the drunken bike ride home.
Funny, when you've had 6 glasses of wine on a summer night out, you don't FEEL drunk. And you would deny it if asked. The clear tell. So Mark & I were trying to be cool in Cambridge and went to a groovy new down joint called Soul Tree. We had a coupon. Which tells you how cool we really are. It was really a trip to be 'out' in a 'club-like atmosphere' a) at all and b) with Mark. We both reverted to those people who used to go to those places when we were 23. Neither of which, by the way, really are all that nice. But we hung and gawked and drank and felt a little old, but cool. I was proud of our bad arsed selves for leaving the sofa in celebration of the night.
Sooooo, then we biked home. A little shaky, but we cruised fearlessly along the Cambridge city centre streets, weaving in and out of night time revilers as the pubs closed. And my sweet baboo, Mark, in his loving way, wanted to hold hands. While we biked. Now before ye passes any judgment, in the spirit of full disclosure, we have actually attempted this trick before. I know, gag. And while adoring, it is a bit tricky in the light of sobriety. I cannot stress this enough, it is not something to attempt under the dark cloud of pino gregio.
Let's just say ... parked car, me, ground, scraping, bash, bloody knee, surfacing bruises today, dumped purse, neighbor lady calling "Are you alright???" from a nearby window, panicked and laughing Mark, stunned and laughing Carol. I managed to earn a deep knee scrape -- reminding me of being 10 and losing patches of skin to driveways and playgrounds and trees. But this time we lost Mark's cell phone -- which musta fallen out of my purse and failed to collect it as we picked up my dignity and lipstick.
I know Mercury is in retrograde -- started at the same time of my crash test dummy stunt. Is the universe warning me to wear a helmet? Curb my daredevil antics? Model my bloodied knee to my neighborhood local 10-years olds with pride? Or just keep that hand holding behind closed doors where it belongs?
Funny, when you've had 6 glasses of wine on a summer night out, you don't FEEL drunk. And you would deny it if asked. The clear tell. So Mark & I were trying to be cool in Cambridge and went to a groovy new down joint called Soul Tree. We had a coupon. Which tells you how cool we really are. It was really a trip to be 'out' in a 'club-like atmosphere' a) at all and b) with Mark. We both reverted to those people who used to go to those places when we were 23. Neither of which, by the way, really are all that nice. But we hung and gawked and drank and felt a little old, but cool. I was proud of our bad arsed selves for leaving the sofa in celebration of the night.
Sooooo, then we biked home. A little shaky, but we cruised fearlessly along the Cambridge city centre streets, weaving in and out of night time revilers as the pubs closed. And my sweet baboo, Mark, in his loving way, wanted to hold hands. While we biked. Now before ye passes any judgment, in the spirit of full disclosure, we have actually attempted this trick before. I know, gag. And while adoring, it is a bit tricky in the light of sobriety. I cannot stress this enough, it is not something to attempt under the dark cloud of pino gregio.
Let's just say ... parked car, me, ground, scraping, bash, bloody knee, surfacing bruises today, dumped purse, neighbor lady calling "Are you alright???" from a nearby window, panicked and laughing Mark, stunned and laughing Carol. I managed to earn a deep knee scrape -- reminding me of being 10 and losing patches of skin to driveways and playgrounds and trees. But this time we lost Mark's cell phone -- which musta fallen out of my purse and failed to collect it as we picked up my dignity and lipstick.
I know Mercury is in retrograde -- started at the same time of my crash test dummy stunt. Is the universe warning me to wear a helmet? Curb my daredevil antics? Model my bloodied knee to my neighborhood local 10-years olds with pride? Or just keep that hand holding behind closed doors where it belongs?
Friday, 15 July 2005
fit camp finish
So, for the last 6 weeks, I have been going to the gym 4-5x a week and enduring hard core sweating and grunting and lifting, and puffing. I've done spinning, weights, treadmill trekking, aqua fitness, power walk/run, circuits, groove dance, Legs, Bums and Tums, power yoga, endless ab work, and cycling back n forth to the gym endlessly, and WHEW!
Throughout the 6 weeks, I complained, but I did it. And then I started doing less complaining and kinda (shhh) started liking it. It felt good to be doing it -- to be pushing myself, sweating in the name of fitness. And fun to have fit mates to winge with and rally each other on. I learned that I adore aqua classes. Lord- I am so LIGHT in the H2O. And no sweating! A beautiful combo. And I learned that I am stronger than I thought, in both mind and bod.
And yesterday it all came down the pike. I had my 'after' measurements... total drumroll. I'll admit, I was nervous. I loved NOT knowing, as anything was possible and it took the focus OFF of weight loss and onto feeling better and getting fit. But this was reality. What if all my hard work didn't amount to much on the scale?
I knew I was smaller -- my clothes told me so. As did the mirror. And Mark, when prodded with a stick to tell me. But getting the hard numbers was an important step in this truth.
So, enough wind up. Da Da Da Da: I am the new champion in Inches Lost for the History of Fit Camp at my gym -- 22 inches lost! That 22 total inches off -- from each arm and leg, on the waist, bust, hips and butt. They are literally posting my results at the gym on a poster. I lost 1/2 a stone too! (that is 6 pounds) and as my instructor tells me, more actual weight will come off now that I have converted my blubber to muscle.
I am darn proud -- not just of my (fab) results, but for doing something I was most scared about. Going headlong into the gym and ignoring any hangups and insecurities and just (sorry Nike) doing it.
I feel good, but I am not done. I am continuting on in a Fit Camp Revival for the next 6 weeks and have made some great work-out and potential out-of-the gym buddies to spur me on.
More importantly, I am off my arse and on my way.
Throughout the 6 weeks, I complained, but I did it. And then I started doing less complaining and kinda (shhh) started liking it. It felt good to be doing it -- to be pushing myself, sweating in the name of fitness. And fun to have fit mates to winge with and rally each other on. I learned that I adore aqua classes. Lord- I am so LIGHT in the H2O. And no sweating! A beautiful combo. And I learned that I am stronger than I thought, in both mind and bod.
And yesterday it all came down the pike. I had my 'after' measurements... total drumroll. I'll admit, I was nervous. I loved NOT knowing, as anything was possible and it took the focus OFF of weight loss and onto feeling better and getting fit. But this was reality. What if all my hard work didn't amount to much on the scale?
I knew I was smaller -- my clothes told me so. As did the mirror. And Mark, when prodded with a stick to tell me. But getting the hard numbers was an important step in this truth.
So, enough wind up. Da Da Da Da: I am the new champion in Inches Lost for the History of Fit Camp at my gym -- 22 inches lost! That 22 total inches off -- from each arm and leg, on the waist, bust, hips and butt. They are literally posting my results at the gym on a poster. I lost 1/2 a stone too! (that is 6 pounds) and as my instructor tells me, more actual weight will come off now that I have converted my blubber to muscle.
I am darn proud -- not just of my (fab) results, but for doing something I was most scared about. Going headlong into the gym and ignoring any hangups and insecurities and just (sorry Nike) doing it.
I feel good, but I am not done. I am continuting on in a Fit Camp Revival for the next 6 weeks and have made some great work-out and potential out-of-the gym buddies to spur me on.
More importantly, I am off my arse and on my way.
Thursday, 14 July 2005
Thursday, 7 July 2005
ok in cambridge
London underground explosions today -- 6 underground stations and a double decker bus.
Mark goes to London at least 3 times a week for work. Thankfully, today Mark worked from his Cambridge 2 of the stations that were hit-- Kings Cross and Liverpool Street -- are where Cambridge trains arrive into London.
Whew.
It is all a bit familiar. And too close. Checking in with friends, alerting folks of being ok, nonstop TV coverage, questions, speculations, outrage.
Mark goes to London at least 3 times a week for work. Thankfully, today Mark worked from his Cambridge 2 of the stations that were hit-- Kings Cross and Liverpool Street -- are where Cambridge trains arrive into London.
Whew.
It is all a bit familiar. And too close. Checking in with friends, alerting folks of being ok, nonstop TV coverage, questions, speculations, outrage.
Saturday, 2 July 2005
happiness is
fiddling around on digital radio and tuning into the beginning of This American Life on KCRW while I cook dinner.
Friday, 1 July 2005
Monday, 20 June 2005
Friday, 10 June 2005
me and greenie
I have a bike.
A dream bike.
Light green (some may call it 'mint'), 3 speeds, circa 1970-something, old lady bike.
Free from my nice acupuncturist Laura.
I spent yesterday deep in the zen of cleaning her up. SOS pad, bucket of soapy water, rags -- cleaning off ancient mud on the wheel rims and scrubbing years of 'left out in the rain' rust. She looks pretty good.
And I am happy to report I just took her for my first spin. I was waiting, bored, on a beautiful Friday evening for Mark to get home from London. Already ate dinner. Nuthin on TV, bored with e-mail, laundry in the dryer, and light for 3 more hours. Dang, I'm going for a bike ride.
I bravely (remember my diatribe on cycling in Cambridge!) rode around my neighborhood, to the train station, around southern Cambridge, through the Mill Road cemetery (which I think that is going to be a fav) and EVEN tackled my Mill Road bridge fear (where busses and cars wiz by within an inch of one's life.)
But most of all, I really flashed back to the days when I was anywhere from 8-15 when the bike was the ticket to freedom. Cruising around Hales Corners -- KMart for Icees -- bumming around the schools -- checking out anything that resembled action. It was the after-supper bike ride when you just wanted some wind in the hair and to breath in summer. It helped that I was wearing flip flops and my new £2 apple green poncho to make the trip back to yesteryear.
Dang if I aren't proud of myself, and I know that sounds funny, but it is just a bit more stepping out and one step closer to my original vision of me in Cambridge, basket full of flowers and a poetry book, riding an old lady bike by the river -- long hair flowing. Maybe I can just get hair extensions and cut to the chase.
A dream bike.
Light green (some may call it 'mint'), 3 speeds, circa 1970-something, old lady bike.
Free from my nice acupuncturist Laura.
I spent yesterday deep in the zen of cleaning her up. SOS pad, bucket of soapy water, rags -- cleaning off ancient mud on the wheel rims and scrubbing years of 'left out in the rain' rust. She looks pretty good.
And I am happy to report I just took her for my first spin. I was waiting, bored, on a beautiful Friday evening for Mark to get home from London. Already ate dinner. Nuthin on TV, bored with e-mail, laundry in the dryer, and light for 3 more hours. Dang, I'm going for a bike ride.
I bravely (remember my diatribe on cycling in Cambridge!) rode around my neighborhood, to the train station, around southern Cambridge, through the Mill Road cemetery (which I think that is going to be a fav) and EVEN tackled my Mill Road bridge fear (where busses and cars wiz by within an inch of one's life.)
But most of all, I really flashed back to the days when I was anywhere from 8-15 when the bike was the ticket to freedom. Cruising around Hales Corners -- KMart for Icees -- bumming around the schools -- checking out anything that resembled action. It was the after-supper bike ride when you just wanted some wind in the hair and to breath in summer. It helped that I was wearing flip flops and my new £2 apple green poncho to make the trip back to yesteryear.
Dang if I aren't proud of myself, and I know that sounds funny, but it is just a bit more stepping out and one step closer to my original vision of me in Cambridge, basket full of flowers and a poetry book, riding an old lady bike by the river -- long hair flowing. Maybe I can just get hair extensions and cut to the chase.
Friday, 3 June 2005
fat camp
Yes, Fat Camp.
I am in it.
Ok, they are more PC than that and call it "Fit Camp", but we all know what they mean. It is a 6-week program at our fab health club ... health club meaning better than a regular old gym. And I will partake in 3 or 4 sweating sessions a week, plus 50% off of Fit Club menu items in the lounge. (Told you it was a swanky gym -- we HAVE a lounge.) Plus a healthy eating schpeal and meeting with the girls in the group once a week.
Seems ok so far, except they have actual Fit Camp t-shirts that we are supposed to wear. Um, no thanks.
I was a brave today and was measured, and assessed and weighed today by pert Becky. Somehow, when the number is in kilograms, it seems ok and not relateable.
Wish me luck, and be forewarned, I may use this as a venting tool to describe my dislike for movement.
I am in it.
Ok, they are more PC than that and call it "Fit Camp", but we all know what they mean. It is a 6-week program at our fab health club ... health club meaning better than a regular old gym. And I will partake in 3 or 4 sweating sessions a week, plus 50% off of Fit Club menu items in the lounge. (Told you it was a swanky gym -- we HAVE a lounge.) Plus a healthy eating schpeal and meeting with the girls in the group once a week.
Seems ok so far, except they have actual Fit Camp t-shirts that we are supposed to wear. Um, no thanks.
I was a brave today and was measured, and assessed and weighed today by pert Becky. Somehow, when the number is in kilograms, it seems ok and not relateable.
Wish me luck, and be forewarned, I may use this as a venting tool to describe my dislike for movement.
Tuesday, 31 May 2005
like living in Alaska
No one told me about this. I never heard anyone mention it or read about it in any travel guides.
Now, in the UK, it is daylight for like 16 hours. Seriously. The birds are chirping like mad at 4 a.m. and it is still light at 10 p.m.! NO lie! I would think it would be a big selling point for British summers -- long days. In the US, at the very latest, it gets dark at like 9.
And it will continue to stay light later and later. It is seriously screwing up my ability to sleep like there is no tomorrow. In the winter here, I was a nice Benjamin Franklin, early bed/rise girl... natually found my internal clock to be 10:30 p.m. bed and 7:30 wake. Nice and productive. So that it is sunny at 9 p.m., we are eating dinner at 9 and going to bed at 12. I am sleeping until (!) teenage time of 10 a.m.! Yikes.
If only I could take up par-taying, I would make great use of these evening hours... but as it is, I am just trying to adjust to keeping my hard clothes on until it is dark. No small feat.
Now, in the UK, it is daylight for like 16 hours. Seriously. The birds are chirping like mad at 4 a.m. and it is still light at 10 p.m.! NO lie! I would think it would be a big selling point for British summers -- long days. In the US, at the very latest, it gets dark at like 9.
And it will continue to stay light later and later. It is seriously screwing up my ability to sleep like there is no tomorrow. In the winter here, I was a nice Benjamin Franklin, early bed/rise girl... natually found my internal clock to be 10:30 p.m. bed and 7:30 wake. Nice and productive. So that it is sunny at 9 p.m., we are eating dinner at 9 and going to bed at 12. I am sleeping until (!) teenage time of 10 a.m.! Yikes.
If only I could take up par-taying, I would make great use of these evening hours... but as it is, I am just trying to adjust to keeping my hard clothes on until it is dark. No small feat.
Wednesday, 25 May 2005
Scousers WIN.
Yes, I watched an entire football game on TV. And the extra 30 minutes. And the deciding penalty kicks. Ok, I was also looking out for Mark in the crowd of 35+ thousand Liverpool fans in Instanbul for the European Champions League.
I can actually say I felt the pride of the Liverpool fans - -- known best for loyalty and their theme song, "You'll Never Walk Alone." Makes me think -- are the Green Bay Packers of the English football league?
Now Mark just needs to get out of the stadium somehow...
Monday, 23 May 2005
Sunday, 22 May 2005
and back again
Am back in the UK!
Seamless flight, a few nervous questions at Immigration (I think I am in the 'system' now to raise a few eyebrows and I knew I was in for it when I was asked if I had had 'trouble with Immigration' in the past after scanning my passport). The officer had to 'make enquiries' which had me with a dry mouth and the feeling of a felon. After about 30 minutes, many factual questions about my studying, where I live, how much money I have, what Mark does, where we met, producing my return ticket, the letter Mark wrote stating that he would support me, suffering 3 separate times for the officer to confer with her superiors, I heard the satisfying Clunk Clunk of the passport stamp. She gave me a stern look and told me that I must leave the country within 6 months.
So, Immigration is still a scary place for me.
Luckily, Cambridge is not and after a 3 hour, drooling unconscious sleep in the home bed, a cheese toastie and a cuppa tea, I am human and I am home.
P.S. Barb U, thank you for your e-mail. Thought a posting of this may be ok.
Seamless flight, a few nervous questions at Immigration (I think I am in the 'system' now to raise a few eyebrows and I knew I was in for it when I was asked if I had had 'trouble with Immigration' in the past after scanning my passport). The officer had to 'make enquiries' which had me with a dry mouth and the feeling of a felon. After about 30 minutes, many factual questions about my studying, where I live, how much money I have, what Mark does, where we met, producing my return ticket, the letter Mark wrote stating that he would support me, suffering 3 separate times for the officer to confer with her superiors, I heard the satisfying Clunk Clunk of the passport stamp. She gave me a stern look and told me that I must leave the country within 6 months.
So, Immigration is still a scary place for me.
Luckily, Cambridge is not and after a 3 hour, drooling unconscious sleep in the home bed, a cheese toastie and a cuppa tea, I am human and I am home.
P.S. Barb U, thank you for your e-mail. Thought a posting of this may be ok.
Friday, 20 May 2005
cat outta the bag
Just a wee announcement. The word is out and most of you already know.
Mark & I are betrothed! Engaged! Shiny ring and all!
Yippee!
It happened just a few weeks ago, and I have been in DC visiting my homies and went to FLA to visit the vactioning parents.
Most likely we will get hitched next fall in the UK. We are hoping to have a nice long and non-frazzled engagement.
I'll be back and forth US/UK until next April, and I will be stateside Nov, Dec and part of Jan for the holiday months. I can get a fiancee visa in April 06, and we will need to get married w/in 6 months.
We are still kind of in awe about it all and reveling in the happiness and miracle of being able to have a plan after so many years of living in the moment -- which has its benefits.
Mark & I are betrothed! Engaged! Shiny ring and all!
Yippee!
It happened just a few weeks ago, and I have been in DC visiting my homies and went to FLA to visit the vactioning parents.
Most likely we will get hitched next fall in the UK. We are hoping to have a nice long and non-frazzled engagement.
I'll be back and forth US/UK until next April, and I will be stateside Nov, Dec and part of Jan for the holiday months. I can get a fiancee visa in April 06, and we will need to get married w/in 6 months.
We are still kind of in awe about it all and reveling in the happiness and miracle of being able to have a plan after so many years of living in the moment -- which has its benefits.
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