Pictures!

I realized that I didn't actually have pictures of the 4th of July fun, so I asked Melissa to send some my way. Feast your eyes on these little gems while I work on updating with more stories!

Jenga Madness
(record height achieved)

Fireworks Fun
(Melissa's husband is the middle, I'm just a back support)

Month o' fun!

July was an exciting month for me. Not only did three of my best friends come to Colorado for a visit, but I also lost my job. Now that's not really the type of excitement that one craves but nonetheless it was there.

First Melissa came from Seattle for the 4th of July festivities. She was here a week and though she spent most of her time with the family and in-laws we got in a little photo swapping session. I was kindly invited to a BBQ at her house on the big day and a viewing of the usual fireworks at Stenger field in Arvada. The great news about this was that I managed to finally meet her husband! I'm afraid I have no pictures as evidence but I'll get them at some point.

Next Stella journeyed all the way from Hong Kong to do a little three-stop US tour to visit family and friends, and I was privileged to have her company for two days. We didn't do a whole lot in way of activities but mostly hung out, took it easy, chatted and of course our usual - watched tons of movies! It was nice and relaxing.

I should mention it was on the day Stella flew out that I discovered I would no longer be part of the STA Travel team. The vice president of the whole company came out to Boulder to inform myself and my colleague Todd of the closure of one of the offices in Boulder and the subsequent merger of the branches into one office. Of course the merger was going to combine 6 employees into a space barely able to accommodate 4, so the two of us were cut loose. Our former manager was magically turned back into a travel advisor and Todd and I were issued severance packages.

I will admit there was a bit of tearage on the day and then boozing it up later that night with Scott. He was kind enough to listen to me yammer on for quite a few hours before I finally had to go pick Stella up from the airport. It was then that I found the poem you see in the prior entry. It was hanging on Scott's fridge and in my inebriated, depressed state it really struck a cord with me therefore I copied it and brought it home. I hope it strikes a cord with you too.

After Stella had moved on to her next destination it was time for my old friend Mike to make his appearance. He was swinging out this way before heading to a business trip in San Francisco. We had the obligatory Starbucks chat session and managed to get a few of the old gang(s) (mixing of high school and college friends) to go to a play in Boulder for the Colorado Shakespeare Festival. Good times were had as we watched As You Like It (a first for myself).


One night, I was even allowed to tag along when the old home boys (those from Mike's elementary) had their "piss up" - British for drinking session. It was great as we bar hopped and eventually crawled back to Scott's place that was "20 minutes away". Scott language for about 5 miles away. We made it to his place at last and all crashed. The next day those of us who were awake (that being everyone but Scott) managed to meander our way back to the center of town and find our cars for the rest of the way home. It was a great time and there is evidence of that but it is in Mike's possession. See his blog for the photo proof of our fabulous night.

All this took place in just the first two weeks of July! Wow, my head's still a-spinnin' from the excitement. Next time I'll fill you in on the last few weeks which included a bachelorette party and a wedding (usually the two go together). Stay tuned!

The Invitation

By Oriah Mountain Dreamer

It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for, and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart’s longing.

It doesn’t interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dream, for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn’t interest me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you touched the center of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life’s betrayals or have become shriveled and closed from fear of further pain. I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it or fade it or fix it.

I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own, if you can dance with wilderness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, to be realistic, to remember the limitations of being human.

It doesn’t interest me if the story you are telling me it true. I want to know if you are disappoint another to be true to yourself; if you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul; if you can be faithless and therefore trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see beauty, even when it’s not pretty, every day, and if you can source your own life from its presence.

I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine, and still stand on the edge of the lade and shout to the silver of the full moon, “Yes!”

It doesn’t interest me to know where you live or how much money you have. I wan to know if you can get up, after the night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone, and do what needs to be done to feed the children.

It doesn’t interest me who you know or how you came to be here. I want to know if you will stand in the center of the fire with me and not shrink back.

It doesn’t interest me where or what or with whom you have studied. I want to know what sustains you, from the inside, when all else falls away.

I want to know if you can be alone with yourself and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.

Freak Hail Storm

So perhaps its not all that exciting, maybe it's making you snore just from reading the title, but in order to appease the Blogger Police (who have been hounding me for weeks now to update) I thought I'd share with you something mildly exciting in my life - the freakish Colorado weather.

One fine day in late June, I was talking with Darren via Skype (great way to keep up with long distance calling) I suddenly heard strange sounds outside my window. The rain, for it had been raining a while turned into something else.. something harder, scarier. I looked out and saw this:

"A hail storm! Oh dear god, my car! Oh well, it's a piece of crap anyway.." Quickly my mind is all absorbed by the storm, my eyes glued to the window to watch as the hail covers the streets like snow. I realize that I'm no longer listening to Darren's story (told in the manner of Nathaniel Hawthorne - too many descriptors for his own good).

I exclaim like Tattoo "the hail, the hail!" as Darren ever so-subtly jibes - "there's no rain in Colorado, ever!" Which compared to Darren's home country of England, yes this is fairly accurate.

Before the excitement vanished I excused myself from the conversation for a minute to snap these few photos. I like how the hail formed a little river going down the sidewalk. Of course the minute it all ended the moisture was dried up in a matter of minutes but it was exciting for a little while.

And that dear friends is that. I hope its enough to keep me out of trouble for a while and next time look forward to hearing how once again I am jobless. Until then, good night and good luck.

She's aliiiiiiive!

It's true, the time has come. My friends are starting to have babies!! Now at first, I was dismayed at the surge of marriages that have been plaguing those mid-twenties free spirits for a while but now babies! Come on, people, what is the world coming to?

Actually, I'm estatic for my dear friend, Mary (Maryanne to many, but not me) who gave birth to a beautiful giantess on Sunday morning. You heard me right, giantess indeed!

Kaitlyn Rose Brankin, born 4:20am Sunday, June 11th, weighing in at 10lbs, 21 inches long, the girl is destined to be a basketball star!

The new auntie adores her little cherub..

Mom and Dad lovingly adore their new addition!

Nap time for Kaitlyn!

But first her little baby prayers...

Life in 1995

Because of the utter boredom at work today I managed to pick up the latest edition of the Onion Newspaper, a fine reputable news sourse (repution of a unique variety that is) and found an amusing and all too poignant article - Recently Unearthed E-Mail Reveals What Life Was Like In 1995. Having lived through the transition of old-school DOS operating systems to the prolific Microsoft monopoly, and the break up of the AOL monopoly to a plethora of ISPs, I remember well the beginning of the 'new fangled' world wide web and all that came with it. For those of you out there who also remember the "days before" you maybe be horrified to hear of late how there is a movement to limit the freedom and neutrality of the internet.

"Gasp! How can this be?!" You ask.
I answer, "It's all too true."

Therefore, I and billions and billions of bloggers (said in Carl Sagan like intonation) have been asked by MoveOn.org to blog about this catastrophe to help raise awareness. So here it goes...

SAVE WILLY! I MEAN THE INTERNET!! (sorry, bad joke, losing all ability to be funny)

Anyways, below you'll find some really awesome links and I hope you take the time to look at them and get involved. Nothing will change unless we decide to change it! Let's be of one voice on this and let the big gurus know, that they may take our lives but they'll never take our world wide web!!! (end of horrendous pop culture humor)

First - Sign MoveOn's petition
Then, check out famous bloggers - actress Alyssa Milano blogs on Internet freedom
Make friends with MoveOn's coalition MySpace profile – including a video explaining this issue
And lastly, find out where your representative stands on the issue


Here are some other good articles on the matter, though perhaps not as amusing as the Onion:
"Net Losses," New Yorker
"Why You Should Care About Net Neutrality," Slate - Prof. Tim Wu Guest Column
"Gun Owners, Librarians Unite Against Bells,"Telephony Online
"New Group Aims to ‘Save the Internet’" CNet News
"Average Joe And Saving The Internet," Webpronews.com
"Panel Vote Shows Rift Over 'Net Neutrality'" Los Angeles Times

The Ugliest Dog in the World

There once was a dog.. so ugly he frightened little children and some grown adults, (such as myself). I hadn't known about this dog until my friend Melissa sent me his picture. Apparently he was in the news before and after he died. As a Chinese Crested he was primarily hairless but maintained a little tuft of hair on his head to keep his look as vengeful alien intact. He died last November at the ripe old age of 14 having secured three consecutive wins as the World's Ugliest Dog. Way to go Sam!

And now a moment of silence for the ugliest dog in the world...

A night with Madlenka

In a typical Mike and Dacia uber-goober moment I had a nice little interlude with the former Secretary of State. No, Colin and I didn't have our midnight rendezvous; rather his predecessor and I shared an intimate moment of mistaken identities.

Last night the Tattered Cover Bookstore hosted this rofessor/diplomat/author/all around amazing woman for a book signing of her recent foray into publishing - The Mighty and the Almighty: Reflections on America, God, and World Affairs.

It was Mike who last time Madeleine was in town, so graciously waited in the line to have our copies of her memoirs, Madam Secretary, signed. Now it all came down to me.

Having gotten there fairly early I was happy to find I was only the 15th in line to meet and greet this renowned heroine of modern politics. Before the presentation began each person got a ticket with their number in line and had the choice of personalizing their signature with a name. Since I had two books I asked for Dacia and Michael. The organizer lady dutifully wrote the names down on a sticky note and put it on the inside of one of the books. Then we sat and waited, Madeleine came out and after a bit of a speech and some lively Q&A (Questions & Answers this time), we all excitedly queued (yes, you heard me right, queued) for the big moment.

So all was going well until the moment I reached the signing desk. She asked how I was, I responded with the usual “Fine, thanks. How are you?” and then suddenly felt emboldened! I managed to sputter out, like in some horrific scene of a teenage girl getting a hold of her boy band idol, “Mike and I are DU alumni and we owe so much to you and your father!”

Mad: “He loved that place.”
Dac: “We love it too. We’d like to go back and teach there someday.”

Just when it was starting to get good in the conversation and I could feel an invitation to join her on her next assignment, I realized that she’d signed the one book with the sticky note “To Dacia and Michael, Madeleine Albright”.

Ahhhhhh! No, wait, not right! I was then determined that to save much unnecessary embarrassment I’d keep the doubly dedicated book and have her sign the other one just to Michael, since I know he’s not much one for sharing. But before I could slyly pull off that task the organizer lady realized the mistake and was already handing Madeleine a new copy to sign just my name! Now there were not one or two, but three copies that she’d signed for me, (although I only walked out with two). Having completed my task of getting signatures, more than expected, and feeling much too chatty for my own good I resolutely walked out of there on a cloud of excitement and giddiness with a hefty helping of embarrassment on the side.

Walking as fast as I could without drawing too much attention to myself I made it to my car and immediately dialed Mike’s number. The second after I finished leaving a message and hung up the phone the parking inspectors came down right behind me and I managed to slip away ticket free!

In retrospect (I’ve now had many hours to digest the event, and after an exhaustive philosophical discussion with Darren quite calmed from the excitement) I realize it wasn’t all that big a deal. However, as Mrs. Sparks can attest when she met Bill Clinton at a similar signing, the prospect of meeting a figure only known from a distance can be overwhelming and in some cases freeze a person completely. Had I been so lucky!

And now to end, I will finish with a bit of my own Q&A, Humanities style:

"Ours is a country of abundant resources, momentous accomplishments, and unique capabilities. We have a responsibility to lead, but as we fulfill that obligation we should bear in mind the distinction pointed out by John Adams. Liberty, at least in the sense of free will, is God's gift, not ours; it is also morally neutral. It may be used for any purpose, whether good or ill. Democracy, by contrast, is a human creation; its purpose is to see that liberty is directed into channels that respect the rights of all. As the world’s most powerful democracy, America should help others who desire help to establish and strengthen free institutions. But, in so doing, we should remember that promoting democracy is a policy, not a mission, and policies must be tested on the hard ground of diplomacy, practical politics, and respect for international norms. Our cause will not be helped if we are so sure of our rightness that we forget our propensity, as humans, to make mistakes. Though America may be exceptional, we cannot demand that exceptions be made for us. We are not above the law; nor do we have a national mission to spread Christianity. We have, in short, the right to ask—but never to insist or blithely assume—that God bless America.”*


*Quote read by Madeleine from The Mighty and the Almighty, pg. 32.

Deep thoughts... (Not By Jack Handey)

Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer

The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,

Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,

And by opposing end them?

-Hamlet, Scene 3, Act 1

That is really the question now... fight the good fight or run away to fight another day. Living the life you envision for yourself is much harder than one would expect really. So many obstacles from people to situations stand in the way to the path you choose. How can one be true to thine own self, when one has to be true to everyone else as well. Like some mystical ancient god, we all wear many masks and rarely show our 'true' selves. And in the end...

One's real life is often the life that one does not lead.
-Oscar Wilde, L'Envoi

"Inspirational Espresso" or Going the distance

"The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeing new landscapes, but in having new eyes." ~Marcel Proust

Every morning on my work's email account, I receive an email from the head of my region (The Central Region) entitled "Inspirational Espresso". This top manager sends all his underlings a quote each morning to inspire and motivate them. . . I've started a little collection from such emails. For now, due to lack of truly inspirational and deeply motivated blogs, I've decided to start a little online Q&A board (Quotes and Announcements, see previous blog). So therefore I'll put up a quote or two and discuss a little something and hope that appeases my readers for now until I can find my blogging self again.

Today, my discussion is about the annoyance of long distance relationships. Now I must say I wouldn't have started this whole "going the distance" nonsense with Darren had I not thought it would work, but I didn't realize quite how trying it could be. Most of you know I had to leave England because my visas expired there and most know that Darren's business (Dazbus) is just getting kicked off. Because it's a tour company, he'll obviously need to stay in England for the tourist season, meaning we probably won't see each other again until about October/November time. For now, we talk on the phone and email each other but that can only take you so far. I wouldn't say we 'fight' on the phone - we rarely fight anyways unless it's about broader philosophical questions and Darren hasn't yet realized that on this front I am always right. But I will say that every so often our conversations are strained. That's what happens when we try to cram too much 'practical' stuff into our conversation like his asking me how to get the pictures off the digital camera or my asking him to check with my bank there to make sure money got transferred correctly... See, the great thing about Darren's and my relationship is that we talk - a lot. But having that confined to an hour every day or so makes it difficult to keep up the relationship we developed over six months of almost non-stop yaking! In the end this separation will make us stronger... yadada ya... but for now it makes for very strange bedfellows and let's just say annoys me greatly.

"The river delights to lift us free, if only we dare let go. Our true work is this voyage, this adventure."
~Richard Bach

The road home....

"happiness is a journey, not a destination... for a long time it seemed to me that life was about to begin - real life. but there was always some obstacle in the way, something to be gotten through first, some unfinished business, time still to be served, a debt to be paid. at last it dawned on me that these obstacles were my life. this perspective has helped me to see there is no way to happiness. happiness is the way. so treasure every moment you have and remember that time waits for no one."

I believe it was Jackie Polis who once placed this quote on the whiteboard for Q&A (Quotes and Announcements for those unacquainted with the Humanities way). At the time, the quote sounded 'cool' to me and insightful as well. Now I understand better the true meaning of this wisdom. It has been a long road home... not the journey itself, that was merely a few hours flight, couple days jetlag and I was back where I started from.

Originally this blog was to be my way of telling the tales of my adventures abroad, now I am back in Colorado I seem to have lost my appetite for blogging. What is there to tell when life has become a series of uneventful events? I guess there is more to tell than I realize...

So here's the scoop on my life at present - I have a job at STA Travel in Boulder, on the CU campus. Soon I will be living in Boulder as well come May 13th, as I have agreed to rent a room in a three bed-room house a few blocks from CU. I finally got my car up and running (thanks to the great help of my aunt and her boyfriend and friends!). So for now I'm commuting from Arvada (living in granny's house at the moment in Old Town Arvada) up to Boulder in my little CRX. I've been readjusting to not only life in the US but life with my family again, as well as catching up with friends who remain in the immediate area. Not as exciting as teaching English in a foreign land or navigating the crooked streets of London but like the quote says: this is life.

Up, Up and Away!!

So, for all those who didn't know, I'm now leaving England to return to Colorado. I'm leaving today in the afternoon to head over to Washington, D.C. and visit a good old friend, Tom.

Just kidding, I'll be going to visit Mike for about 3-4 days before continuing on to Arvada/Denver area. I should be back and fairly settled in the Mile High region about March 14th. Until then, maintain radio silence! :)

Surprise! It's your birthday!!

Yes, I realize it's been almost a month since my last blog. And unfortunately for you, this won't be a long entry, either continuing tales from New Year, Christmas past or present or starting fresh tales from the past few weeks. The reason for this - I'm going away for the weekend! To where you ask?.... I don't know actually.

I thought Darren and I agreed upon a nice dinner and a movie for my birthday, since we're not rolling in dough now. I knew that he was up to something from the beginning of planning but I just thought it'd be a surprise trip to the symphony in Oxford or a reservation in a really nice restaurant. Oh no, Darren does not do things in a small way. Last night he came to me, feigning disappointment and asked if it would be alright to skip the dinner and movie night as "we just can't afford it" he states with fairly good fake sadness in his voice. Instead he says, we have to leave early this morning (although, surprise, surprise - we're already late from the original leaving time!) and we'll have to pack enough stuff for two nights and three days. Ok..... where to?

"Manchester, or maybe just Chester, or the Peak District, North Wales." The limey bastard is throwing everything at me but the kitchen sink in his attempt to through me off the track. (But I have a very strong suspicion that we're off to the Lake District in north England.)

Anyways, it's already been a good birthday starting with my birthday morning doughnut and I already opened two of the four presents he got me. So far I've received both Bridget Jones' books (which I picked out with Darren in the shop) and the actual Love Actually dvd! (Rather than my Hong Kong rip-off including Chinese subtitles.)

So now I must do my ablutions and get heading off into the sunset, or rather off into the North. Have a great weekend everyone, I'm sure I will!


Oh, and Happy Birthday to me! (Turning 25 isn't all that bad, is it?)

AT LAST -- St. Ives or Bust!

Ah, December… glorious December, literally the 10th month oddly placed at the end of the calendar year as good old number 12, just to confuse. One thing we weren’t confused about is what to do when that last elusive day slips by and becomes not just a new month but a whole new year as well. Cheesy intro, I know, but you gotta start somewhere…

So there we were, Darren and I, sitting at home one day staring at the walls because we’ve reached the stage where we can no longer stare at each other’s ugly mugs, when the phone rang. (To be honest, we were probably debating the semantics of which is more proper – “aluminum” or “aluminium” or where to put the emphasis on a name, for instance Mau-REEN or MAU-reen. Because we’re just that interesting…) Well you get the idea, we were at home when the phone rang and it was Darren’s mate, Matt. He had come up with a great idea for UFOria’s first big trip of the year – take a group down to St. Ives, Cornwall for the New Year celebrations there.

Great idea! And we were off… designing posters, handing them out in the streets, leaving hundreds in all the university campuses. Unfortunately all our efforts were for naught as not one person contacted us. Luckily for us, Darren has about 100 friends who all love to travel together. And in the end the 16 passenger seats of the minibus were taken up by 14 of Darren’s friends, me and my friend Brooke who traveled all the way from Tennessee for the occasion (she didn’t know when she first bought her tickets that we’d be adventuring down to the southwest coast but she was up for the journey as were the rest of us). Alright, so we didn’t get full paying passengers that we could gouge for the big bucks, but we had people we knew and could have fun with. (See online photo album at my Kodak Gallery for verification of said fact.)

The long story short is this: Darren, Brooke and I picked up Dave, Sally, Lou, Stu, Anya and John from Dave’s place in the minibus early on New Year’s Eve morning. Then we hit the highway (a.k.a. motorway) and met with Dave B. and Lynda who brought Pete and Dtor (couple from Thailand, not brought from Thailand but London) and Matt K. and Kel (Kerry) brought Matt W. and Nuala. And thus Abraham begat Cain and Moses begat Jeb… yadada ya, that’s when I fell asleep.

The 6 hour ride down to the coast was taken up by chatting with Brooke, navigating and feeding Darren (not sandwich in his hand) and munching on food bought from service stations.

At last we arrived at our wonderful little hostel in Penzance about 7:30pm on New Year’s Eve and donned our costumes.

About 9pm the illustrious host of the hostel drove another minibus full of other residents into St. Ives where the party was a-happenin’ and we followed in our minibus.

He showed us a cool place to park the beast while we ran wild through the streets. We all broke into different sub-groups to divide and conquer our night. Some went straight to a pub to begin with drinking their dinners, others stopped for a Cornish pasty to line their stomachs first before the liquor flowed. Then the food party finally, after much searching and being turned away by burly bouncers, found a pub of our own for the night –

At first it was so crowded, you couldn’t stick your toe in the door. Then it thinned out and we managed to cram all of our group in, as you can see.

With one minute to go before midnight, suddenly some folk wanted to be beach front as the fireworks went off. So they bolted, through the door, down the street, turn right at an innocuous hidden alley and down the steps in time to hear the bells chime and the people cheer. The remainder stayed in the warm pub and counted down the clock with other drunkards, no fireworks but a fireplace. I was a bit confused as to what the plan was and thus ran out the door initially with the others but then realized Darren and a few stayed in the pub and so at 00:00, 1 January 2006, I was running back through the door and into Darren’s arms.

Now, I’m not overly superstitious, but I’ve heard that how you spend New Year’s is a sign of how that year will turn out for you. For example, last New Year’s eve I was in Ireland smooching a random Italian (who, turns out didn’t speak English) and this year I’ve had more boys falling at my feet than in the past few years combined (not just Darren, there are others but for now I have eyes only for one).

Ummmm… anyways… after closing down the pub at 2am we headed back through the gale winds up the windy lanes to the minibus, and from there went back to the hostel for a rest.

Dinner time – To Be Continued……

Averting Disaster

I want to make it known that for the past two weeks since the Christmas and New Year rush I haven’t been sitting on my ass not blogging and not attempting to either. Therefore I will bring you into my world of the past weeks so you may be less inclined to be angry at my long blog silence. First, obviously there was the run-up to Christmas which saw Darren’s temp job ending and our mad rush to finish present shopping and other errand running. Then there was the Big Day and the subsequent week when Darren and I didn’t return to our home for three full days (two more than originally planned). And finally to my joy, Brooke joined us for the New Year’s week, so that obviously was spent touring as much of Britain as possible, as well as taking a trip of 17 people down to almost the very tip of southwest England for New Year itself.

After we returned from the coast and Brooke left, and I mean right after, both Darren and I got horrendously sick. We were sprawled on our little couch for two days staring at the tv and eating soup only (bear in mind that Daz doesn’t watch tv much, in fact he didn’t own a television until I arrived here, so he must’ve been super sick to watch 8 hours of it in one go!) After that I spent the next few days trying desperately – and failing horribly – to transfer pictures of the festivities from my camera to my computer to Darren’s computer (which was the only one connected to the internet). Unfortunately, for some strange, yet undiscovered reason every time I transferred the pictures over to his computer, they wouldn’t open, but the computer would decide of its own accord to shut down the file and thus the pictures.

That is what I’ve been dealing with until two days ago when I finally decided it would be easier to reinstall Microsoft Windows XP English Edition on my computer and see if that corrected the problem. Let me backtrack a bit… while I was in Ukraine my laptop was acting up and doing odd things, therefore my good friend Sasha – computer programmer extraordinaire – decided to reinstall windows and at the same time partition my drives so that I’d have a c:/ and an e:/ drive. What this means is that all of my personal documents, photos, programs, etc. would be kept in the e:/ drive while only the windows installation files would be in the c:/ drive. Well, becoming completely fed up with the non-compliance of photo transfers I spent Wednesday night reinstalling windows on to what I believed to be the c:/ drive, thus saving all my files and wiping away the horrid Russian bootlegged version of Windows.

Once Darren and I had debated for over an hour (at the commercial breaks of a very enlightening and heart wrenching program about the torture methods at Guantanamo Bay) about what to ‘name’ the computer (one of the last steps in the installation process) and finally decided upon Asimenio (Greek for silver) I pressed the last few ‘Next’ buttons and off it went. At the end of it all, the computer looked like a newly washed and waxed car – well the innards of it looked that way I’m sure, the outside was still a bit dusty from non-use.

Then I happily clicked on one of the several links to My Documents and as it opened my heart sank… no documents. Then I tried another route… nothing. As the reality started to sharpen in my mind an invisible hand grabbed at my heart. Everything started to go black… I got up from the couch, where Darren was still sitting talking with his mom over the phone, and ran downstairs. It was then hyperventilation set in and I just wanted to crawl out of my skin.. “this can’t be happening.. I didn’t just erase ALL of my files.. all my pictures from since I left Colorado.. all my essays and research from DU.. no, it can’t be true.. but there’s nothing there!! Not there! I looked… it’s…… all……… GONE!!!!!!!!!”

At this point Darren had come down to figure out what the hell had just happened. I tried to blurt out as best I could in between sobs and short breaths that I’d accidentally erased my files with the new version of Windows. He wasn’t buying it though… he kept being optimistic and hopeful, kept saying “There must be a way to get them back.” “They can’t be all gone darling.” Finally annoyed by his disbelief and overtaken by the mourning of being bereft of my life’s work, I grabbed his hand and dragged him upstairs to show him my irreversible blunder. This time I went straight to the e:/ drive and there sat 4 folders where before there had been 3, one of these was a Windows folder, evidence to me that I had placed all the Windows files on the e:/ drive wiping off my files. Then Darren asked me about one of the other folders which said quite plainly – My Documents. It didn’t look the same as my old link, the icon was plain rather than stylized. I clicked thinking – “what’s the use, it will be blank” when suddenly… all of my files began to appear, slowly but surely each and every document, all the folders full of pictures, films and programs. All I could do was look at Darren and say “Oh.”

Quick quick update!

Well... here it comes again. Another quickie. Let's just say the run-up to Christmas was hectic but fun. Met many friends of Darren's (see future entry: The Merry Men of Nottingham) and spent the whole Christmas weekend with his family (other future entry: Blood is Nuttier Than Water). Tomorrow my friend Brooke will be visiting me for a week here in England where I shall attempt to show her all highlights of the English countryside starting with Stonehenge. She'll also be joining us on the New Year's trip to St. Ives (see UFOria site for further details) for a fabulous fancy dress party (British for costume party) in the streets! Therefore do not look for frequent updates for a wee while as the holidays continue to be a whirlwind. I promise to make up for the lapse with wonderful tales after New Year. Until then, everyone enjoy the festivities and have a great New Year's Eve!!!

BACKLOG Chapter 3 – Abingdon

At last it comes time (going in reverse of course) to show off my new little town, in the daylight! Well first let me give you a little history of the market town of Abingdon.

Abingdon was occupied in prehistoric times by settlers of the Bronze and Iron ages. It was a flourishing town in the Roman period, which in turn gave way to a Saxon settlement. The earliest documents tell of a hamlet called Sevekesham sited at a ford of the Thames. Hean, nephew of King Cissa was granted land for founding a Benedictine monastery called Abbandun (Hill of Ebba) at the same time as his sister Cilla founded the Nunnery of Helnestowe on or near St Helens Church, the principal church in 675AD. When Henry VIII dissolved the monasteries in 1538, Abingdon Abbey was the 6th richest in Britain.
The Monday market has existed since 1556. The Michaelmas Fair (now known as the Ock Fair) was originally a 'hiring mart' for those seeking employment.*

Abingdon is supposedly the oldest town in Britain, though a few other places also claim that honor. Basically the town is OLD. There are some ruins in the middle of a park and one near the library (pictures of those to come later) that attest to the age of this quaint little overgrown village. But for now I shall present to you what images I have been able to catch, so let the viewing begin…

*Courtesy of Oxtowns.co.uk, also see Wikipedia.

View of Market Square and St. Nicholas church (this was where the festival rides were from the last entry)

Looking down the little strip mall, the heart of shopping in Abingdon. Unfortunately I think they tore down whatever beautiful architecture was here and redeveloped the lot in this not-so-classic 1970’s style… progress sucks sometimes.

County Hall, built in 1678/82, it was once the home of local government now turned museum. A rather interesting sight is watching local dignitaries throwing buns from the roof of the building for crowds in the market square during days of celebration – they even have examples of the types of buns thrown in the museum itself. Very strange…

4 East Saint Helen Street, home to me and Darren, the little window front was the Little Basement Museum but has since been closed due to safety reasons... don’t worry Darren and I are safe as we live 46 steps up through the heart of the building, residing in the spacious attic flat. (Translation – we live in a tower and with my hair growing longer by the minute, I’m beginning to feel like Rapunzel.)

View from our living room window – the only one that isn’t a skylight that is.

A beautiful set of lilies presented to me from Darren the day I returned to him!

One red rose was given as well, placed romantically so on the bed next to welcome home presents and a poem – She Walks in Beauty by Lord Byron.

BACKLOG Chapter 2 – God bless us, everyone!

Being part of a small town (or medium town according to Darren) does have its good points. One of which are the fun little celebrations that brings everyone to the town square – yes, we do have a definitive town square. Because there isn’t much else a-happen’ throughout the year, Abingdonians must cling on to what they’ve got, that being an annual lighting ceremony to kick off the beginnings of Christmas madness. There were lights, cameras, fairground rides, candy floss and toffee apples (British for cotton candy and candy apples). And best of all there were people dressed in good olde English style! (Sorry no pictures of them abound here as I forgot to take some…)

But take a look at the festivities visited upon my sleepy little country town…

The Town Square, replete with carnival rides and carnival food!

An semi-aerial view of our flat (can’t really see our windows as they are just skylights atop the white building with bay windows, we are above the second set of blue trimmed windows.)

The main street, High Street, all done up for the holidays!

A look down the little shopping strip in the center of town.

And finally the church at the end of High Street, we pass by this lovely place to get to the grocery store.

Note: All these pictures were taken atop the County Hall, in the middle of town. We could see as far away as the distant lights of Oxford as well as peer into our little home just across the street. (County Hall and the rest of Abingdon will be explored in the next edition of – The Next Great Adventure: The Return to England.

BACKLOG Chapter 1 – Thanksgiving Goodness

Finally I’ve pulled my head out of the sand or perhaps out of another place too inappropriate to be named in a G-rated blog. Oh, what the hell?! Just say it… finally I’ve pulled my head out of my ass and am at last blogging again. At least for one more time in about a month or so. Since I have been so rude as to exclude you from the stories of the past few months, I hope to make amends by bombarding you with many tales all in a row, with lots and LOTS of pictures as requested. Running from more recent events back towards my brief days in Crimea, I will bring you all into my little world and attempt to gain your respect and love once again.

So to begin, I shall go back in time to a great American Holiday. A day of thanks and giving but mostly of food!

Due to the sad fact that Darren had never experienced a true Thanksgiving Day feast, I decided (rather gave him no option) to celebrate it this year and do it right, i.e. with all the trimmings!

The facts: we (I) made mashed potatoes, mashed sweet potatoes, corn (unfortunately not on the cob), cranberry sauce (ok, ok, it was store bought, give me a break!) and the pièce de résistance – slices of turkey breast stuffed with stuffing and topped with a brown gravy. And for dessert, a sweet potato pie! It was my very first sweet potato pie and it was made because we couldn’t find any pumpkin here (the Brits aren’t huge fans of such typical American fare).

Well as you can see it was indeed a feast for two and it only took me about 2-3 hours to make all together. Of course it took Darren about half an hour to devour it all – enough for two full helpings each and no leftovers hanging around for a month staring at us from the refrigerator!

To top off the night we enjoyed a wonderful bottle of Ravenswood Californian Zinfandel. After we wined and dined it was time to sit back and let everything settle… Overall it was a lovely evening, of course there were things missing from it – first and foremost a pumpkin pie (which by the way, a week later we found cans of damn pumpkin filling in another store!), no parade, no giant family get-togethers. On the other hand there were some things that were pleasantly absent, for instance no football blaring in the background, no mad dash to the malls for the after Thanksgiving Day sales (ok, well I actually do miss that one! I’ve been reduced to not only sewing my rapidly deteriorating socks but now my pajama bottoms and only pair of surviving pants as well.)

Anyways, I’ll leave you with a few things I’m thankful for and a few more pictures to prove that I, yes, Dacia Suzann Dyer, CAN indeed cook an edible and rather delicious I might add, Thanksgiving Day dinner!

I’m thankful for: family, friends, Darren, adventures in traveling, international calling cards, and a good home-cooked meal.


P.S. The lovely flowers in the background was a surprise no-occasion gift from my lovely boyfriend, awwwww... he's so sweet!

Momentous occasion

Finally...

... as a howling wind screams it's freezing fury through a clanking pair of rusty iron cemetery gates while a single black crow cries in hoarse rage at the black and bleeding skies...

...as a lithe athletic panther smoothes a speeding path through jade jungle, blending it's nature into nature like an indigo streak running through a Maya Indian's natural dye weaving...

....as a small boy stoops to pick up the winning winter conker that will forgive his weeny frame for months through unrivaled opportunities to say 'stampsies' to his envy eyed entourage...

....as an overworked and lonely office worker finds a moment of serendipitous calm to enjoy self directed sexual contemplation staring through the mirror lens of her skyrise prison,

A minibus will make it's arrival in Abingdon, oh ancient Abbandun of yore....

...and on that day the bus will know what it was built for....
To be the beginnings of a great company called - UFOria.


That's right folks! Darren has gone and done it! He bought a 2000 Ford Transit 17-seater minibus!! We went up north on Saturday to a little place called Huddersfield to big up the bad boy and took a nice little drive through the Peak District; sightseeing, practice driving, photoshoots, just generally breaking 'er in. Just after sundown we stopped at a little pub called Snake Pass Inn, being located at Snake Pass. There we enjoyed a delicious traditional English roast dinner and recuperated for a while. Discussing all the wonderful and challenging work yet to be done in creating a minibus business from scratch. Speaking of which, it is time now to leave you and continue on with that little adventure...

Darren and our mascot Marvin the Martian at the wheel of his new toy!

Me outside the minibus being pummeled by the Derbyshire wind!

Darren and I at our pub dinner, he looks startled, doesn't he?
(He was too busy enjoying his roast.)

[Sidenote: British English vs. American English - those silly Brits have about 10 different ways to say "dessert", all of which confusing and beating around the bush. Examples include: pudding, sweets, and dessert. They also say "tea" to mean the evening meal. No wonder good ol' George went mad, who can blame him?]

N.B. - The introduction of today's blog was generously and unknowingly donated to me by Darren's friend Pete from Thailand. He used it as his own intro to a recent email announcing his return home for the Christmas holidays. I'm not one to shy away from stealing the works of true genius. Therefore - Thanks Pete! Look forward to meeting you!