There are, I’m sure, several ways to deal with a nine-hour time zone shift. People have been doing it ever since the Spirit of St. Louis first winged her way across the Atlantic.
But I have been struggling.
My problems started when I decided to fly on Air New Zealand for the Los Angeles/London leg of my trip. It was my first time cruising with the Kiwis, and I didn’t really know what to expect.
It was wonderful.
Number one: Good food and free wine with your meal.
Number two: No one in the middle seat (I know that ANZ cannot actually take credit for this, but it sure made my trip a lot more enjoyable).
Number three: Ridiculous, ludicrous, fabulous selection of in-flight entertainment. In addition to Planet Earth, Extras, Flight of the Conchords, Fawlty Towers, CSI and other TV shows, guests aboard the Air New Zealand 747 were able to choose from the following movies:
The Heartbreak Kid
Grow Your Own
Superbad
Hot Rod
Shortcut to Happiness
The Simpsons Movie
Knocked Up
The Jane Austen Club
The Nanny Diaries
The Darjeeling Limited
Resurrecting the Champ
Transformers
Live Free or Die Hard
Into the Wild
Across the Universe
Feast of Love
Control
Goya’s Ghost
The 11th Hour
The Lives of Others
The Brave One
Stardust
Talk to Me
The World’s Fastest Indian
3:10 to Yuma
Rush Hour 3
The Hunting Party
The Seeker
The Bourne Ulitmatum
The Invasion
The Game Plan
Ratatouille
Garfield Gets Real
High School Musical 2
A Beautiful Mind
Casablanca
Dirty Harry
Funny Face
Gone with the Wind
LA Confidential
Lethal Weapon
Roman Holiday
Saturday Night Fever
Something’s Gotta Give
Shadowlands
Terms of Endearment
The Conversation
The Bridges of Madison County
The Shawshank Redemption
The Untouchables
The Usual Suspects
The Wedding Singer
Top Gun
Unforgiven
An Angel at My Table
Once Were Warriors
Rain
Smash Palace
The Navigator
The Quiet Earth
Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring
Lord of the Rings: Two Towers
Lord of the Rings: Return of the King
Seriously?
So I spent the entire flight not sleeping, as I had planned, but watching four TV shows, three and half movies, and trying to wake my seatmate up in such a way as it could look like an accident so that I could go to the bathroom.
This was not a bad way to spend the ten-hour flight, but by the time I had landed in London, took the bus to Reading and the train to Bath my internal clock was a little woozy.
I got to my flat at about four in the afternoon, and by four-fifteen I was in bed and deeply sleeping until four the next morning.
Wednesday: Up and around at four am, then asleep by ten thirty in the morning, awake at four in the afternoon and asleep by ten at night.
Thursday: up at four thirty, asleep at two, up at seven, asleep at one and up the next morning at six.
Friday: Up at six in the morning, asleep at two in the afternoon, up at two in the next morning. That means I was awake for a total of eight hours.
This is ridiculous. I have to pull myself together and stop sleeping like a two month old.
Monday, January 28, 2008
Saturday, January 26, 2008
The happiest traditions on earth.
I was able to stop through LA on my way back to Jolly Ol'. It was fabulous.
I chilled like a vill with Sam and the Burns and the Flowers. I hit all the great restaurants before my plunge into a world of culinary mediocrity (Baja Fresh, Rubios, In N Out, Egg Plantation, Wood Ranch). Additionally, I visited a little place called Disneyland with Ken and Beth.
Ever heard of it?
New Tradition: Mickey Mouse pancakes
But why stop there?
Donald Duck
Goofy
The UK
California (Beth got a little carried away with Catalina. Or is that Alcatraz?)
Old Tradition: If you're cranky, you have to wear the mouse ears
New Tradition: Eating your PB&J and Ruffles on Pirates of the Carribean
Old Tradition: Pretending like we're spinning like gangbusters on the teacups, but not actually spinning at all because it's just not worth it.
Retro Pic: circa 2002 w/Ryan Kendrick
New Tradition: Arriving at noon and leaving at ten like grown-ups
I chilled like a vill with Sam and the Burns and the Flowers. I hit all the great restaurants before my plunge into a world of culinary mediocrity (Baja Fresh, Rubios, In N Out, Egg Plantation, Wood Ranch). Additionally, I visited a little place called Disneyland with Ken and Beth.
Ever heard of it?
New Tradition: Mickey Mouse pancakes
But why stop there?
Donald Duck
Goofy
The UK
California (Beth got a little carried away with Catalina. Or is that Alcatraz?)
Old Tradition: If you're cranky, you have to wear the mouse ears
New Tradition: Eating your PB&J and Ruffles on Pirates of the Carribean
Old Tradition: Pretending like we're spinning like gangbusters on the teacups, but not actually spinning at all because it's just not worth it.
Retro Pic: circa 2002 w/Ryan Kendrick
New Tradition: Arriving at noon and leaving at ten like grown-ups
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
Monday, January 14, 2008
Go My Favorite Sports Team!
I've decided to pay more attention to American Football, at least for the next few weeks. Mainly because I just received a jersey* for Christmas from my brother Nathaniel.
The number of professional sports teams playing in Alaska can be counted on one hand that has lost all its fingers, so my family has always favored the Boston teams in honor of my father's youth. The Red Sox, Celtics and Patriots - these were the logos that graced the walls and ball caps of my brothers.
For some reason I was never bitten by the bug that infected my siblings. Instead of pouring over sports statistics and computing batting averages, I just did my math homework. Instead of Topps baseball cards, I collected porcelain dolls and Star Trek memorabilia. Sports was okay, but mostly it was just an excuse for the males in my house to get free reign with the TV. I remember hours and hours of sports on the family television, including one particularly memorable Sunday when we had to watch the SuperBowl instead of the twenty-four hour musical marathon that TNT was hosting.
But in the spirit of joining those you cannot beat, I have gradually become a sports enthusiast by osmosis. I'll sit and take in a game. I'll ask questions. I'll get emotionally involved. Still, at best you could only categorize me as a casual fan. A social watcher.
Now, though, the stakes are higher because I have this jersey. And I have some English friends who expect me to have Belichick's playbook memorized. And the Pats are going to be playing in the SuperBowl** while I'm in the UK.
So I'd better bone up on my NFL lingo if I ever hope to represent.
It's all about Special Teams.
_________________________
*Number 81, Randy Moss
**Unless the earth swallows the entire team up in some sort of freakish catastrophe.
The number of professional sports teams playing in Alaska can be counted on one hand that has lost all its fingers, so my family has always favored the Boston teams in honor of my father's youth. The Red Sox, Celtics and Patriots - these were the logos that graced the walls and ball caps of my brothers.
For some reason I was never bitten by the bug that infected my siblings. Instead of pouring over sports statistics and computing batting averages, I just did my math homework. Instead of Topps baseball cards, I collected porcelain dolls and Star Trek memorabilia. Sports was okay, but mostly it was just an excuse for the males in my house to get free reign with the TV. I remember hours and hours of sports on the family television, including one particularly memorable Sunday when we had to watch the SuperBowl instead of the twenty-four hour musical marathon that TNT was hosting.
But in the spirit of joining those you cannot beat, I have gradually become a sports enthusiast by osmosis. I'll sit and take in a game. I'll ask questions. I'll get emotionally involved. Still, at best you could only categorize me as a casual fan. A social watcher.
Now, though, the stakes are higher because I have this jersey. And I have some English friends who expect me to have Belichick's playbook memorized. And the Pats are going to be playing in the SuperBowl** while I'm in the UK.
So I'd better bone up on my NFL lingo if I ever hope to represent.
It's all about Special Teams.
_________________________
*Number 81, Randy Moss
**Unless the earth swallows the entire team up in some sort of freakish catastrophe.
Wednesday, January 02, 2008
What better way to ring in the New Year...
...than with shellfish.
On New Year's Day we celebrated Dad's birthday a week early with the first-ever Gates Family Boil.
No, not the skin disease. That was last year.
A boil is some sort of Cajun affair where you cook a ridiculous amount of seafood and dump it all in the middle of the table for a salty medieval free-for-all.
Note: this post is graphic heavy. Meaning I took a lot of pictures.
Jill's ready for the boil.
So's Callie Jane.
We covered the table with newspaper and wax paper. I'm not really sure why the bags are on the chandelier. I think the plan was to have them handy for shells and other shrapnel.
Zach and Aunt Lucy wait for the deluge.
Dad shows Ty the ropes. Apparently oysters are resistant to being pried apart.
Tyler regarding raw oysters: It's like riding a roller coaster. I've done it before but it still makes my stomach feel funny.
Did Nathan know what he was getting into when he married Katy? We've yammered him into doing all sorts of things since he's been mixed up with our family. Swim with snakes. Eat raw oysters. He's a gamer.
This is as close as Katy got.
I have no idea how we convinced Zach and The Bud to take the plunge.
They did not dig it.
Seriously.
Crawdads are creepy.
Callie and Mom are pretending to eat the crawdads. None of us actually ate them. Again, creeeepy!
And there were twelve baskets remaining!
Mom's ready to roll it on in but Pop's still chuggin' along.
How we digest.
On New Year's Day we celebrated Dad's birthday a week early with the first-ever Gates Family Boil.
No, not the skin disease. That was last year.
A boil is some sort of Cajun affair where you cook a ridiculous amount of seafood and dump it all in the middle of the table for a salty medieval free-for-all.
Note: this post is graphic heavy. Meaning I took a lot of pictures.
Jill's ready for the boil.
So's Callie Jane.
We covered the table with newspaper and wax paper. I'm not really sure why the bags are on the chandelier. I think the plan was to have them handy for shells and other shrapnel.
Zach and Aunt Lucy wait for the deluge.
Dad shows Ty the ropes. Apparently oysters are resistant to being pried apart.
Tyler regarding raw oysters: It's like riding a roller coaster. I've done it before but it still makes my stomach feel funny.
Did Nathan know what he was getting into when he married Katy? We've yammered him into doing all sorts of things since he's been mixed up with our family. Swim with snakes. Eat raw oysters. He's a gamer.
This is as close as Katy got.
I have no idea how we convinced Zach and The Bud to take the plunge.
They did not dig it.
Seriously.
Crawdads are creepy.
Callie and Mom are pretending to eat the crawdads. None of us actually ate them. Again, creeeepy!
And there were twelve baskets remaining!
Mom's ready to roll it on in but Pop's still chuggin' along.
How we digest.
Thursday, December 27, 2007
One month later...
I'm really sorry. Something happened to this month. Every time I sat down to chronicle my musings and experiences I was drawn away from the computer as if by magic.
Now I'm so far behind that I don't even know where to start.
Here are the posts that I meant to write:
Happy Birthday! Love, London
Hannah and I have birthdays one day apart, so we decided to go for an overnight in London to celebrate!
Put a Fork in Me
I finished the term at Bath Spa in a flurry of printing and revision.
These are the ladies in my novel workshop (Abby, Hannah, Fran, Me, and Mimi).
There's No Place Like It
Home to Alaska for Christmastime
Tree Trek 2007
There wasn't a ton of snow this year, but we made up for it by choosing a really, really cold day.
Poor Champy couldn't handle the chill, so he rode took turns riding in our coats.
Ugly Christmas Sweater Party 2007
There really is nothing that says Christmas more than a lot of ugly sweaters.
Jared and Mel wore basically the same sweater. People were getting them confused all night. It's a good thing Jared wore that sweet mock-turtle neck.
So I am happily home and enjoying Christmastime with family and friends. I hope you all had a Merry Christmas as well.
I promise to be a better blog-friend in the New Year!
Now I'm so far behind that I don't even know where to start.
Here are the posts that I meant to write:
Happy Birthday! Love, London
Hannah and I have birthdays one day apart, so we decided to go for an overnight in London to celebrate!
Put a Fork in Me
I finished the term at Bath Spa in a flurry of printing and revision.
These are the ladies in my novel workshop (Abby, Hannah, Fran, Me, and Mimi).
There's No Place Like It
Home to Alaska for Christmastime
Tree Trek 2007
There wasn't a ton of snow this year, but we made up for it by choosing a really, really cold day.
Poor Champy couldn't handle the chill, so he rode took turns riding in our coats.
Ugly Christmas Sweater Party 2007
There really is nothing that says Christmas more than a lot of ugly sweaters.
Jared and Mel wore basically the same sweater. People were getting them confused all night. It's a good thing Jared wore that sweet mock-turtle neck.
So I am happily home and enjoying Christmastime with family and friends. I hope you all had a Merry Christmas as well.
I promise to be a better blog-friend in the New Year!
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
Check, Mate!
I have been a happy Mac user for the past three and a half years. I still love the aluminum-silver casing of my PowerBook G4. I love saying, “Shh, it’s sleeping” to friends and pointing out the pulsing light that hearkens the slow, heavy breaths of a slumbering child. I like using key-strokes. I like not having viruses (digital or biological).
But, like my failed relationships of years gone by, there is always an inevitable, nagging problem.
In this instance, it’s a lack of palatable pre-loaded games. The PC’s got you here, Apple. I have whiled many a happy hour away with my WinBook or Dell Desktop to the simulated sounds of cards flipping and pinball machines clattering. I love that the little smiley face wears shades when you win at Mine Sweeper. Back in the Rattler Race era, I am not ashamed to say that I dominated to the detriment of my eight o’clock class: American Government.
What does this Mac-Oh-Ess-Ten, the tiger or the panther or something, offer me?
Chess.
Be still, my palpitating heart.
It’s kind of fun to flip through the various style options for board and piece materials (Marble? Wood? Grass? That’s crazy!), but eventually, you have to play. I started on super dummy easy-time which felt a little like playing a chicken, such were the random, jerky movements of my digital opponent. While I enjoyed winning, I could almost hear the inner workings of my computer comment amongst themselves. “Oh, she’s playing on chicken-level. Bless her heart.”
I couldn’t handle that kind of patronization, and have since slid the blue dial away from “computer plays faster” and a little closer to “computer plays stronger.” The computer is still not playing at half-strength and I am losing consistently.
I’ve never been very good at chess. Occasionally, in a fit of father-daughter bonding I’ll sit down across the board from my dad. He tries to hide his glee at my obvious ineptitude, but it’s difficult to disguise the giggling.
“Are you sure you want your knight there, daughter?” he’ll choke over rising waves of mirth.
“Of course,” I posture, my eyes scanning the board for the hole I most certainly cut in my defensive line.
Then it’s bam, bam, bam, all my interesting pieces are gone and I’m left with my king and two pawns hobbling around the battlefield, while my dad slowly draws his rooks and bishops into a wolf pack for the Pinscher maneuver.
Chess: It’s like bleeding to death, but more boring.
Thanks Steve Jobs!
But, like my failed relationships of years gone by, there is always an inevitable, nagging problem.
In this instance, it’s a lack of palatable pre-loaded games. The PC’s got you here, Apple. I have whiled many a happy hour away with my WinBook or Dell Desktop to the simulated sounds of cards flipping and pinball machines clattering. I love that the little smiley face wears shades when you win at Mine Sweeper. Back in the Rattler Race era, I am not ashamed to say that I dominated to the detriment of my eight o’clock class: American Government.
What does this Mac-Oh-Ess-Ten, the tiger or the panther or something, offer me?
Chess.
Be still, my palpitating heart.
It’s kind of fun to flip through the various style options for board and piece materials (Marble? Wood? Grass? That’s crazy!), but eventually, you have to play. I started on super dummy easy-time which felt a little like playing a chicken, such were the random, jerky movements of my digital opponent. While I enjoyed winning, I could almost hear the inner workings of my computer comment amongst themselves. “Oh, she’s playing on chicken-level. Bless her heart.”
I couldn’t handle that kind of patronization, and have since slid the blue dial away from “computer plays faster” and a little closer to “computer plays stronger.” The computer is still not playing at half-strength and I am losing consistently.
I’ve never been very good at chess. Occasionally, in a fit of father-daughter bonding I’ll sit down across the board from my dad. He tries to hide his glee at my obvious ineptitude, but it’s difficult to disguise the giggling.
“Are you sure you want your knight there, daughter?” he’ll choke over rising waves of mirth.
“Of course,” I posture, my eyes scanning the board for the hole I most certainly cut in my defensive line.
Then it’s bam, bam, bam, all my interesting pieces are gone and I’m left with my king and two pawns hobbling around the battlefield, while my dad slowly draws his rooks and bishops into a wolf pack for the Pinscher maneuver.
Chess: It’s like bleeding to death, but more boring.
Thanks Steve Jobs!
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Contemplating another BM
I've been putting it off. Resisting the temptation to flock from one blog site to another like a lemming.
But recently I've been feeling constrained by the limits of Blogger, and have found myself wandering over to Wordpress, "just to look around."
It may happen. It may not.
But if it does, which is better:
jessithegreat.wordpress.com
or
waytogokevin.wordpress.com
But recently I've been feeling constrained by the limits of Blogger, and have found myself wandering over to Wordpress, "just to look around."
It may happen. It may not.
But if it does, which is better:
jessithegreat.wordpress.com
or
waytogokevin.wordpress.com
Monday, November 19, 2007
Lists
from: mcsweeneys.net (aka: one of my favorite places)
Top Hip-Hop Acts of 18th Century England
BY MIKE RICHARDSON-BRYAN
Earl-Grey-T
Snuff Daddy
Haughty by Nature
Notorious W.I.G.
Tuppence
Chain Restaurants That Went Kosher.
BY JACOB STULBERG
Applebaum's
Matzo Barrel
Red Snapper
T.G.I. Friday's (until sunset)
Personals From Nonpersons.
BY PETER CAMERON
Toyota Prius seeks irritating pseudoenvironmentalist for smug attitude and poorly informed dinner-party rant on Middle Eastern oil politics.
California relocation for "fresh start" seeks disaster-prone individual for postmove loneliness and employment difficulties followed by crippling "sleep all day" depression episode.
Cringe-inducing racist remark seeks grandfather for slip of the tongue during family get-together.
Tedious recounting of last night's nonsensical dream seeks potential suitor on first date for obliteration of second-date possibility.
Surprisingly explicit and seemingly unending movie sex scene seeks family for very uncomfortable viewing moment.
Top Hip-Hop Acts of 18th Century England
BY MIKE RICHARDSON-BRYAN
Earl-Grey-T
Snuff Daddy
Haughty by Nature
Notorious W.I.G.
Tuppence
Chain Restaurants That Went Kosher.
BY JACOB STULBERG
Applebaum's
Matzo Barrel
Red Snapper
T.G.I. Friday's (until sunset)
Personals From Nonpersons.
BY PETER CAMERON
Toyota Prius seeks irritating pseudoenvironmentalist for smug attitude and poorly informed dinner-party rant on Middle Eastern oil politics.
California relocation for "fresh start" seeks disaster-prone individual for postmove loneliness and employment difficulties followed by crippling "sleep all day" depression episode.
Cringe-inducing racist remark seeks grandfather for slip of the tongue during family get-together.
Tedious recounting of last night's nonsensical dream seeks potential suitor on first date for obliteration of second-date possibility.
Surprisingly explicit and seemingly unending movie sex scene seeks family for very uncomfortable viewing moment.
Saturday, November 10, 2007
Hallow-losses and Well Wishes
First I believe that I must formally concede to the champions of the 4th Annual Pumpkin Carving Competition.
Congratulations Blake and Bekah, your pumpkin was great. I never would have thought of hacking my pumpkin into cross sections.
Actually, there were a lot of really cool pumpkins. I'm feeling a little outclassed and will have to start researching my pumpkin designs for next year soon just to stay in the game.
Fortunately this was a busy week, and I was not left with the luxury to nurse my loss for days on end.
My life has fallen into a repeating pattern of "on" and "off" weeks.
I have two lectures every week, the workshop and the context module. My workshop is structured around writing and receiving criticism for my novel that is still in its very fetal stages. My context module (entitled The Love Story) is a class where we study literature of a specific genre and focus our writing on that genre. So I find that I write a lot of short stories for that class on the theme o' luv.
I'm required to turn in work for both classes every other week. That means that nothing is due during week one and in week two EVERYTHING IS DUE. Last week, everything was due. This week I'm on easy street.
So all that to say, I was too busy trying to think of a synonym for "handsome" to mourn my near victory too much.
I also received some great mail this week, in honor of the Halloween season, which lifted my spirits.
You may not know this, and I in fact was not aware until I made the plunge across the pond, that Oreos are not as ubiquitous a food item as many Americans presume. In fact, they are well-nigh impossible to find in Bath, England.
So the present of Oreos and Ramen and vampire ears from Laurilee and Sarah was very, very welcome.
And the hand-painted pumpkin from Callie Jane was the best ever.
Congratulations Blake and Bekah, your pumpkin was great. I never would have thought of hacking my pumpkin into cross sections.
Actually, there were a lot of really cool pumpkins. I'm feeling a little outclassed and will have to start researching my pumpkin designs for next year soon just to stay in the game.
Fortunately this was a busy week, and I was not left with the luxury to nurse my loss for days on end.
My life has fallen into a repeating pattern of "on" and "off" weeks.
I have two lectures every week, the workshop and the context module. My workshop is structured around writing and receiving criticism for my novel that is still in its very fetal stages. My context module (entitled The Love Story) is a class where we study literature of a specific genre and focus our writing on that genre. So I find that I write a lot of short stories for that class on the theme o' luv.
I'm required to turn in work for both classes every other week. That means that nothing is due during week one and in week two EVERYTHING IS DUE. Last week, everything was due. This week I'm on easy street.
So all that to say, I was too busy trying to think of a synonym for "handsome" to mourn my near victory too much.
I also received some great mail this week, in honor of the Halloween season, which lifted my spirits.
You may not know this, and I in fact was not aware until I made the plunge across the pond, that Oreos are not as ubiquitous a food item as many Americans presume. In fact, they are well-nigh impossible to find in Bath, England.
So the present of Oreos and Ramen and vampire ears from Laurilee and Sarah was very, very welcome.
And the hand-painted pumpkin from Callie Jane was the best ever.
Wednesday, November 07, 2007
We are so, so close!
After an astonishing show of solidarity that brought pumpkin-sized tears to my eyes, we and the Scholar Pumpkin have rocketed into SECOND PLACE!! That's right, we are only three votes behind Blake and Bekah Boys and their Mummy Pumpkin as of the early hours of November 7.
I really think that we can pull it off - those of you who were waiting until the drama hit a fever pitch can feel free to go ahead and vote now for #13.
Hmmm, maybe the Boys don't have this competition all wrapped up.
Monday, November 05, 2007
Retro Pix
So I know that infectious disease is not generally something you can laugh at, but in early 2003, Newsweek and Time Magazine made it just a little easier.
special thanks to: Chie Burns, Franchesca Wright, Sam Neylan, and Ken Flower (may he live to be beaten in pumpkin carving competitions for years to come)
special thanks to: Chie Burns, Franchesca Wright, Sam Neylan, and Ken Flower (may he live to be beaten in pumpkin carving competitions for years to come)
Blood is thicker than Grandblood
I'm a little afraid that my mother may have voted for this hackneyed pumpkin:
I mean come on. It looks like it was carved by a three-year-old.
Poll Update:
Well over one hundred votes have been cast in the 4th Annual Pumpkin Carving Competition, which is a pretty amazing feat. Less impressive is the fact that Ken Flower holds 25 of those votes and the Mummy Pumpkin is still holding strong with 21.
However all is not lost, and the Scholar Pumpkin is hanging in there with the best of academic spirits. We have eight votes so far, and I know that there are readers out there who have yet to cast their vote. It's easy and fun, too. The only price you'll have to pay is having Ken and Beth's blog pop up in the search bar when you're trying to get to the State of Kentucky home page for the next thirty days.
I mean come on. It looks like it was carved by a three-year-old.
Poll Update:
Well over one hundred votes have been cast in the 4th Annual Pumpkin Carving Competition, which is a pretty amazing feat. Less impressive is the fact that Ken Flower holds 25 of those votes and the Mummy Pumpkin is still holding strong with 21.
However all is not lost, and the Scholar Pumpkin is hanging in there with the best of academic spirits. We have eight votes so far, and I know that there are readers out there who have yet to cast their vote. It's easy and fun, too. The only price you'll have to pay is having Ken and Beth's blog pop up in the search bar when you're trying to get to the State of Kentucky home page for the next thirty days.
Friday, November 02, 2007
Campaign Update
Well, early exit polls show Blake and Bekah Boys in the lead with their "mummy" pumpkin followed closely by Ken Flower and his depiction of some unnamed metropolis.
What? You don't know any of these people?
Then click here and vote for me! Polls close November 7.
What my pumpkin may lack in artistic acheivement and originality, it makes up for by just being really pleasant.
So let's win this together "with the mighty sword of teamwork and the hammer of not bickering!*"
___
* The Shoveller, Mystery Men
Thursday, November 01, 2007
Vote for Jess!
The 4th Annual Pumpkin Carving competition has begun!
(and the people rejoiced)
Make sure that you go to the Flower's Blog and vote for the pumpkin* you like best.
*Let's not kid ourselves here, we all know that this is just an annual popularity contest for people who never got voted for homecoming court (Ken excepted). So when I say vote for the pumpkin you like best, what I mean is Vote for Me! Because I'm really nice. And I'm all alone in a new country.
And the pumpkins are really small here and hard to carve.
(and the people rejoiced)
Make sure that you go to the Flower's Blog and vote for the pumpkin* you like best.
*Let's not kid ourselves here, we all know that this is just an annual popularity contest for people who never got voted for homecoming court (Ken excepted). So when I say vote for the pumpkin you like best, what I mean is Vote for Me! Because I'm really nice. And I'm all alone in a new country.
And the pumpkins are really small here and hard to carve.
Saturday, October 27, 2007
'Da Bomb. Otherwise entitled: Why should Britain be any different?
So in true trying-to-be-casual-with-new-people-and-also-funny-fashion, I had one of many Alaska Yankee in King Arthur's Summer Home type blunders.
Scene: Outside The Porter, a pub in George Street (that's right, in George Street, not on)
Characters: Me (Jessi), Matt (new friend from the MA)
Awkward pause, like those common in pubs worldwide
Me: Did you know that every time there's a pause in the conversation, somebody's thinking about Abraham Lincoln?
Another awkward pause. This time it's my fault.
Matt: Yeah, are you quite sure that works over here?
Me (internally): Doh.
Why do I cling so to that joke? It's not even that funny in the States.
Scene: Outside The Porter, a pub in George Street (that's right, in George Street, not on)
Characters: Me (Jessi), Matt (new friend from the MA)
Awkward pause, like those common in pubs worldwide
Me: Did you know that every time there's a pause in the conversation, somebody's thinking about Abraham Lincoln?
Another awkward pause. This time it's my fault.
Matt: Yeah, are you quite sure that works over here?
Me (internally): Doh.
Why do I cling so to that joke? It's not even that funny in the States.
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
Residential Weekend
This past weekend I went with some of my fellow students to a retreat in the English countryside about an hour and a half (or two and a half hours, if you trust Bruce, the talking GPS) south of Bath.
It was sort of like my initiation week at my undergrad with fewer relays and more wine. Several of the tutors came and led workshops. We wrote haikus about our feelings. Two guest authors also came to give readings and pep talks. Mostly, though, it was just a get-to-know-you-and-eat sort of time.
In other words, my kind of weekend.
Anyway, here are some pictures.
The outside of one of the buildings. The main meeting/dining room was a converted barn.
These are the girls in my workshop - Hannah, Abby and Fran. We break each other's hearts every week with constructive criticism.
I went on a walk with some of the tutors. Here is Commander in Chief Richard Kerridge getting us unlost.
The Dorset cliffs.
Ollie (another student) and me and the Dorset cliffs.
Some cows. They're everywhere, and you know what that means. Tread carefully, my padawan.
I think this cow means to do Ollie a harm.
It was sort of like my initiation week at my undergrad with fewer relays and more wine. Several of the tutors came and led workshops. We wrote haikus about our feelings. Two guest authors also came to give readings and pep talks. Mostly, though, it was just a get-to-know-you-and-eat sort of time.
In other words, my kind of weekend.
Anyway, here are some pictures.
The outside of one of the buildings. The main meeting/dining room was a converted barn.
These are the girls in my workshop - Hannah, Abby and Fran. We break each other's hearts every week with constructive criticism.
I went on a walk with some of the tutors. Here is Commander in Chief Richard Kerridge getting us unlost.
The Dorset cliffs.
Ollie (another student) and me and the Dorset cliffs.
Some cows. They're everywhere, and you know what that means. Tread carefully, my padawan.
I think this cow means to do Ollie a harm.
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