Don't "Blink"

I was looking through older photos and came upon a series that was taken when we were in temporary housing in Prestbury before moving back home. But first, of course, I have to tell you a story.

Our local pub was called The Wheatsheaf and we loved to go there for Sunday roasts. It's ownership was transferred and I read in the Gloucestershire Echo shortly thereafter that there was a great kerfuffle regarding the disappearance (read "theft") of some memorabilia that was on loan to the previous owner by the Brian Jones fan club. Brian Jones was a founding member of The Rolling Stones and was born and raised in Cheltenham. (FYI ex pats, he attended both Dean Close and Pate's Grammar schools.) He died in 1969, just a short while after leaving The Rolling Stones. The coroner's report stated "death by misadventure". I think you can guess what misadventure might have occurred. He is buried in the Cemetery/Crematorium in Prestbury.

After reading this, I wanted to go and try to find the grave, just because it's interesting. So a few days before we moved, Craig and I went over to explore the cemetery. The place is huge and we were doubting we'd ever find Brian Jones' grave. We parked and started walking and believe it or not, we walked right up to it. I am not joking.


After that, we walked around some more. The memorials are interesting in spots.


They are memorial plaques along the roads and paths, not grave sites.


We also noticed a lot of stone angels. These are of particular interest because we are huge Doctor Who fans. One of our favorite episodes, called Blink, features the Weeping Angel and his stone comrades. At first, the angels are really serene statues, but every time someone blinks, the statues move closer to surround them until they are right on top of them. And the angels get vicious looks on their faces. So enjoy some serene stone angel pictures and remember, don't blink!



















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Pestilence

I have been meaning to blog about this issue for a while now. We have these infamous lodgers in our house. We call them cave crickets or spider crickets or "sprickets" for short. They are freaky and not nice. Firstly, they are pretty much huge and spider-like. Secondly, they hop erratically and usually at me. Thirdly, they sneak out at night and fourthly, they feed on one another! This last tidbit of information is most definitely true.





We have had them in our basement for pretty much as long as I can remember. Most of our neighbors have them too. They are just creepy but at least they are not roaches like we had in Louisiana ~ that's a whole 'nother story. For years, their numbers were few because our odd and wonderful cat loved to play with them until they perished. Owen used to have a set of fire-bellied toads before we moved and they would nosh on the smaller ones. After three years without predators, their population has increased, not dramatically but noticeably. Well, a couple of mornings ago, I spied and subsequently eradicated an adventurous intruder in the kitchen. That was the last straw!

I promptly headed to WalMart because that seemed the best place to go for pest control and I bought some glue traps because someone had recommended them (sorry, I can't remember who it was). Can I just say that they work amazingly? The sprickets love whatever is glued onto that flimsy piece of cardboard and I am happy that they do. At this rate





Day One
I won't be housing any more unwanted guests.


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Christmas Magic?

The half strand of lights that weren't working are now lit as if by magic. They self-corrected overnight or someone set them straight. It's a miracle on Glenmore Avenue!


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Decorating for Christmas

This Thanksgiving weekend, the weather could not have been more gorgeous: 65-70ish and sunny with a slight breeze. We (read Craig) did so much yard work with the rest of us helping somewhat that our yard no longer looks like we rented our house for three years. Even though it was warm, we had the fire pit going to burn some miscellaneous wood, to keep Owen occupied and for ambience. We also burnt an old broom which was fun.


It was so nice and the weekend was so laid back that I got out ALL of our Christmas decorations for the first time in forever and decorated inside and out. It was so fun sorting through items that we had put in storage for three years. Don't get me wrong, we moved some decorations and we decorated for Christmas in the UK but we weren't usually home a lot for the holidays so I didn't really go all out. Also, the decorations just didn't "fit" like they do in our own house.

So today, I decorated our porch and it took me forever because I couldn't really remember where the hooks and nails for the garland were and the overall logistics were foggy. I did manage to get everything up and I was a section short in garland for some reason so I wound up going to the store to buy a live pine swag since it was cheap and I wasn't in the mood to search for what I really wanted. I strung the lights, added some bows and embellishments and this is what it looks like.


Here is what it looks like at night.


Yeah, that dark spot in the middle is a half a string of lights that doesn't work! Seriously, HALF A STRING! The string obviously is working because the next string it's plugged into works. So now I am in a pickle. Do I check each and every light bulb from the one that works in the middle to the end or do I use another string of lights? It worked before I put it up because yes, I checked each string thinking I was so smart to do this and save myself the hassle and frustration. The real irony is that it's the string of lights that is the least accessible. Craig just laughs in my general direction. It's just never easy, is it?


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Thankful

I know I am very lucky. I know it every day and for that I am grateful beyond belief. Instead of the typical "Things For Which I Am Thankful" list, here are some funny things for which I am thankful during this season of Thanksgiving.

I am thankful for not being forced to drive in the middle of the road at times or playing car leapfrog whilst driving.

I am thankful for wide parking spaces.

That said, I am thankful for auto insurance and the ability to pay for it.

I am thankful for drive-thru. See, even the word "thru" makes it seem like a shorter time saver.

I am thankful for the abundance of "filter" coffee everywhere and the complete absence of instant coffee.

I am thankful that my credit card is accepted everywhere and that I haven't had to call a bank to persuade them that it really was me buying groceries in the town where I LIVE.

I am thankful that I do not have to call my credit card company when I cross a border comparable to a state border. I traveled 2000 miles last weekend and both Craig and I used the same credit card account maybe at the same exact moment 2000 miles apart and nothing happened!

I am thankful I have not checked the sterling:dollar exchange rate in over four months, not once.

I am thankful I did not need to drive for three hours round trip for pumpkin, fried onions and cranberry sauce.

San Diego Señoras

I had a great time catching up with Gwen and attending ASHA and feeling professional all over again. Here are some photos from the trip.





The ubiquitous bird of paradise





I love the Gaslamp Quarter. It's so old timey but upscale Wild West at the same time.

















Art Deco, oooOOOOooo























My first morning in San Diego looked like San Francisco. Luckily, it did not last.





Bougainvillea and the Coronado Bay Bridge





A view from one escalator to another in the San Diego Convention Center





A must-see, the Hotel Del is iconic. Google it.

















They had a Dr. Seuss sculpture garden. It is a traveling sculpture show. Dr. Seuss AKA Theodore Geisel was a long-time resident of La Jolla, just north of San Diego.











Yertle the Turtle is my second favorite story. First place goes to Horton Hears a Who.





Poor Max





A dragon tree
Supposedly if you pull off the "leaves" which are similar to aloe vera, it bleeds red.





Poinsettias were planted OUTSIDE. Yep, definitely California. I remember all of the poinsettia farms in Encinitas when we lived near there.





Some succulents

















The Hotel Del was decorated for Christmas. The trees were lovely.





























Balboa Park











Little Italy
The first restaurant I saw was a small Mexican taqueria. Go figure.





Old Town, the birthplace of San Diego

Good News, Bad News

For pretty much the first time ever, all three boys came home with all A's and B's with one stray C and a very expected D that will magically transform into an A next marking period because we made a class switch. I am speechless.

The bad news is that our beloved pet for 16 years has died. Varuca was definitely worth her "Salt" in so many ways. She tolerated all three children who sat on her, gnawed on her tail and squeezed her mercilessly. I think she waited for us to return so she could be with her own family and in her own house. The day before I flew, she was acting like she had had a mini stroke, still functioning, but a little demented and woozy. She hung on for a few days for the kids to spend time with her. What a good little cat even to the end.


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ASHA in San Diego

I am in San Diego at the American Speech and Language Association's annual conference. Last Spring, my good friend from grad school, Gwen, and I emailed back and forth and decided to attend this year and visit with one another. So we have been booked and registered since July.

Why am I attending a professional conference since I don't work (yet)? In order to maintain my professional Speech-Language Pathologist license, I need to maintain a level of continuing education. With the move home and laziness, I am pretty lean in the tooth on CEU's. The conference is a really easy way to get all the hours I need in one fell swoop. AND it's in San Diego this year. Need I say more?

This morning, I got a text from Gwen saying that her flight from Louisiana had been cancelled! I thought she was joking, but she wasn't. We were both totally bummed because we had the whole afternoon to sightsee and chat. She was rescheduled for tomorrow because there were no open seats into San Diego for today! The conference is HUGE and the are a bazillion SLP's here. On my flight the three rows in front of me, my row, two behind and one beside were all SLP's! Needless to say, the flight was fairly chatty. I sat next to an SLP who works in Fairfax, VA.

San Diego is as gorgeous as I remembered it. I haven't been here since maybe 1991 when we used to live north of here. I do want to note that people are odd in this Lion Coffee shop where I am sat typing my tale. Just eavesdropping on conversations and there is a guy dancing to the Muzak. I am off to Horton Plaza and to see the Gaslight District and maybe catch a movie.

Death and the Six Feet Under Part

My Uncle Bill died a little over a week ago. He was 80 years old and had survived a serious bout of pancreatic cancer going on 14 years, a miracle in itself, but succumbed to other health issues. It was his time, yet we are sad to see him go. He and my Aunt Doris lived across the street from my parents and us kids for all of our lives. I will miss his infectious smile, his greeting, "Hi, hawn!" and sloppy wet kiss.

At the wake, I couldn't help thinking how nice it was to see everyone from one man's lifetime gather to say goodbye to him and (re)connect with the other mourners. It was sort of fun in a way to see people I hadn't seen in ages and I thank my Uncle for that. He chose a plain pine box in which to be buried. It was awesome.

The funeral however, freaked me out. The finality, the ceremony, everything. So many of my friends' parents have died recently and now my cousins' parent. It hit too close to home. I couldn't go to the gravesite service after the Mass. I couldn't watch the coffin go into the ground. Me, the lover of graveyards, passed down a chance to go to one!

So instead, I went to another graveyard very close to where I live and walked around.


It is fairly old by American standards and was very peaceful even though it's situated right next to a busy road. Unfortunately the church surrounded by the graveyard


was locked which didn't surprise me because that's the way it seems to be in America. One can't just wander into a church on the side of the road and expect it to be open like in the UK. The congregation of this church was mostly German and many of the gravestones were carved in German.


"Father"


The graves were well-kept although I suspect this is due to the work of the historical preservation society rather than ancestors. I may be wrong but I don't think I am, which got me to thinking that I don't want to be buried six feet under because I think I will be claustrophobic even in death. I don't want others, relatives or not, to tend my grave. I am going to find another way to be remembered.


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