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.

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)

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.

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

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.

'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.

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.

Farmers and friends, but not friends who are farmers...yet.

This Saturday I walked over to the weekend farmer's market. I was expecting it to be the size of the Saturday market at home, but you know what happens when we assume.

The market was small - maybe about twenty booths, but there was plenty to look at and too much to buy. I ended up with some milk, butter and bread this time and plan to make it a weekly stop.


Later that same day, I went to Bristol with some friends (friends! huzzah!). Bristol is much larger than Bath and is a quick 10 minute train ride. It was so refreshing to hang out with living breathing people.

This is Hannah (front) and Abby (back). They're both Americans and are in one of my classes at Bath Spa.

You'll meet them when you come visit me.

Happy Birthday Kevin!

I am so sad that I missed Way to Go Kevin!'s first birthday. That's right, folks, a year ago on October 7, I brought this tiny, mewling little blog into existence and look how far it's come! We've worked our way through burp cloths and rice cereal and I can now watch proudly as it balances on its pudgy little digital feet and totters around the living room of my heart.

Certainly there have been times when I was afraid that it wasn't developing properly. I'd see other women's blogs at the park and wonder if maybe I was doing something wrong or missing some key that would emotionally stunt my blog for life.

Why hasn't my blog had any embedded videos? I would wonder. And what's all this about changing the template?

But I realize now that everyone's blog develops at a different rate and no blog is better than another.

Anyway, Way to Go Kevin! for having a birthday.

The birthday of my blog has caused me to reflect on my own year and the many changes therein:

My backyard in October 2006:


My backyard in October 2007:


A nice view in October 2006:


A nice view in October 2007:


My neighborhood in October 2006 (although this picture was actually taken in December):


My neighborhood in October 2007:


On an unrelated note, I'm experimenting with removable wallpaper ideas. Just so you know, spray starch works pretty well on dry fabric and not so well on wet fabric.

Yeah, could I get a melee over here? Thanks.

Once upon a time I was pretty into Halo. I had my brother’s game system at my house and I would come home from work, take off my trouser socks and spend a little quality time with Oreos and X-box. I could get through several levels, willing myself to forget that I was on little kid super easy mode. I liked having the small pterodactyl aliens and the big blue Aquaman aliens explode with a single shot from my shotgun. I got pretty good at maneuvering in the various all-terrain vehicles. I finally figured out which button I needed to push to switch weapons. Things were going pretty well.

But as fun as it was to play Halo poorly by myself, it was doubly fun to play Halo poorly in front of other people. Occasionally my brothers or some friends from work would organize a game of Halo that involved days of preparation. We would have to lay in stores: seven layer dip, Coke, Oreos (for me), several televisions and something called a hub. The hub always gave us problems. Nobody really knew who had the hub or if we had a hub. Once it was finally located in the back of someone’s car, there were several cooks in the kitchen of the hub, trying to hook it up to all the different X-boxes, trying to make everything talk to everything.

I just tried to stay out of the way. I know that I was only invited as a circus side-show freak Halo playing girl and wasn’t expected to participate in the set-up.

Eventually, the world was as it should be and everyone was on the right map and the right team and the game commenced. I was always put on the better team as a sort of sexist handicap. My job usually involved running for the hills and trying to snipe people from a safe distance, or drawing enemy fire as I got stuck in a corner or lost my bearings in the middle of the map.

I never was any good at Halo. If I played too long my contacts would dry out and I'd get a headache. One time I made the people I was playing with turn their controllers upside down to play, and I still didn’t win (although that was a pretty fun game for me).

I’m not going to psychoanalyze why I liked playing it so much. I think it’s got to be the camaraderie. Or the addiction to entertainment. Or the latent aggression.

Take your pick.

Well Worth the Eight Bucks

Oh you tiny little pint of wonder!
Did you come across the sea from Vermont
to fill my freezer with home?
A bowl of cookie dough ice cream and a cup of rooibus.
I could be in Aro Circle.

Settling in.

Well, so here I am in England! I've been spending my days wandering around the city and my nights studying the various denominations of the British pound so that I don't have to stare blankly at the change in my hand as I try to buy a cup of coffee.

I can move into my apartment (flat) on Tuesday. It's teeny tiny - it could easily fit into my bedroom at home - but it has everything that I need and it's close to the bus stop and the city center (centre). I've found a little coffee shop with wi-fi nearby.

People I've met:
Geraldine, the matronly B&B manager
Rupert, the hot letting agent
Su Ann, the friendly missionary
Jama, the amorous drifter

It's been an interesting week! Yesterday I went to a Church of England. The service was very close to what I'm used to: hymns and choruses, a sermon on Genesis 2, innumerable announcements, tea and coffee and fellowship. The people were great and I was excited to meet Su Ann, the missionary with the Christian Union that I emailed a few weeks ago. She came and picked me up from the B&B and took me to a student lunch afterward. It was so refreshing to just be able the hang out with other believers. The body of Christ really is universal.

Tonight I head over to the University for registration, meet and greet, and (fingers crossed) some awkward icebreakers.

Sorry about the lack of pictures. I still need to download them from my camera to my computer. It'll happen, though!

Remember him? I know you do.

So today Jenni and I went to "the Broadway," as she calls it in her never ending love affair with the definite article. We actually got in this time because we paid The Man a lot of money. The Drowsy Chaperone is a new musical comedy. There's a tap dancing groom, pun weilding gansters, an over-the-top Latin lover, and a dance featuring blindfolds and rollerskates. It also stars Gilbert Blythe.

Imagine my shock.

Johnathon Crombie (Gil) plays the Man in the Chair - a neurotic, theatre-loving, cardigan-wearing, depressed New Yorker with a sing-songy voice and a swish in his walk. It actually took me quite awhile to recognize him as the hair-pulling heartthrob of my youth. But it was indeed he. (he? him? hmm.)

I'd like to say, "What a treat!" But I'm afraid that it will sound corny.

Jenni and I had trouble getting the sign in the picture:

Here it is:


We also went to "the MoMA":

Lottery Shmottery

So, we had hoped to replicate last year's success with the Broadway lottery.



C'est la vie.

It's all happening!

Well kids, here we go. After months of planning, weeks of leaving, and days of packing, I've completed the first leg of the BM.

I'm now in New York with my friend Jenni Kim for a whirlwind weekend of crizz-aziness before finally heading over to England for grad school.

I'm taking my dad with me - because I'm secure in my grown-upness. We're going to bash around England for a week (and hopefully procure some accomodations for Jessi) before he heads back to his real life. My brother once drove from Anchorage to LA with my father in what he dubbed "a ten day nugget of wisdom." I have high hopes. We've already covered Morality in America, Creativity and the Christian, the definition of "impossible," and John Piper. Well, I'm pretty sure that Piper has not yet been exhausted.

We flew from Anchorage to Newark together, but then parted ways at the airport. I went to Jenni's to spend the weekend eating and going to shows and shopping, and he's going on some man-vacation that will involve many many hours behind a car wheel, a fair amount of sunflower seeds, and more cans of A&W Diet Rootbeer then I care to dwell on. We will meet up on Sunday afternoon for our trip across the pond.

Before I left, I did this:



Also, with the help of many willing movers and shakers, we were able to turn this:

Into this:


More to come!

It's a veritable smorgasbord-orgasbord-orgasbord!

Oh my goodness, the Alaska State Fair, aka Mecca of Fried Food.

We poured honey on our fried bread - you know, to sweeten it up a little.


Appropriate order of operations: Ride then eat.

He started the fire.

Anchorage isn't really known as the comic venue of America. In fact, it is a notable event when big names wander into our neck of the woods. So when B.J. Novak (big name, small man) came up for the UAA kick-off, we rearranged our busy schedules to attend.



It was a lot of fun, and we were only three rows back. He sounded just like Ryan from the Office. It was eerie.

This is him reading his new children's story "Wikipedia Brown"


Sorry about the poor picture quality. I didn't want to use the flash at the risk of being singled out for public mockery.

Cruisin' for a Bruisin'

Here are some pictures from my cruise to Alaska. It was a great trip with Linda, Katy, Mom, Aunt Lucy, and Mrs. Harding.


Weather? Gorgeous.




Katy and I enjoyed this sign warning drivers in Petersburg of speed bumps. You can never be to careful, that's what I say.

Camping in Hope

With our eyes fixed on the future grace that has been promised, believers in Christ reside, or "camp" if you will, in hope throughout our born again lives.

Recently, I was able to not only camp in the state of hope, but also in the town.

Hope, Alaska.

Actually just outside of Hope, but I can't come up with any theological tie-ins with Coeur d'Alene Campground.

We car-camped in Coeur d'Alene on a beautifully overcast night.

And I mean "car-camped" very literally:

Jannell's set-up in the back of her wicked-awsome truck.


Stephen's set-up. I especially like the rifle.


My set-up. I think it was more comfortable than my bed at home.


The campin' crew.


I'm going to miss this place.

Slosh

When you have a burger and shake at Lucky Wishbone, it's called "slosh."

According to Callie Jane.

I love to have slosh, although I find that I can't do anything afterward other than sleep.

What Blog?

So here we are at the end of August, and I've found that this has not been the Summer of the Blog. In fact, I've had a harder time keeping this thing updated than I did during tax season. With longer days and shorter work hours, you would think that the summer would be a bloggers paradise.

But there is just too much going on.

Wrapping things up at work, preparations for the BM, and trying to enjoy the brief and glorious Alaska summer is a lot of balls to keep in the air.

Plus, did I tell you that I went on a cruise?

Well I did, courtesy of Aunt Lucy, I went on a cruise to...none other than...exotic, distant Alaska! We started in Vancouver, BC and cruised up the Inside Passage to end up in Whittier, which is about 60 miles from home.

Southeast AK is actually very different from where I live in Southcentral. The towns are all built on tiny scraps of land between the mountains and the ocean. Larger towns have exceeded their scraps and have built out into the water on wooden piers and wind up mountains so steep that the roof of one home is practically the floor of the next. I lived down there for four years when I was younger, and I think I would like to again someday.

The cruise company we used does small vessel cruising, which means that we were only 120 passengers strong. This was not the huge Princess or Holland America ships that I used to watch out my window in Ketchikan, flooding the streets and shops with jogging suits. We were small, and dwarfed even further when we were in port next to the huge hotel ships. I love the smaller ship. I like to feel the ocean and I like going out on Zodiacs (rubber raft with an outboard motor) to see glaciers and coastline up close. Every evening the guides and lecturers would have a presentation on some bit of Alaska history, wildlife, or culture.

It's a great way to see Southeast if you only have a short amount of time, you have the chunk of change that I'm sure it costs, and you like afternoon naps.

The cruise took about two weeks of my last month and a half home. Now I have to face the fact that I'm really leaving for the unknown. I'm trying to figure out what to take and how to afford everything and where to live and all the myriad details that accompany a BM. Big Move, that is.

I do have my ticket, now, and I'm going to be flying through New York City to visit Jenni Kim again. We shall feast on Korean BBQ, and Shanghai Joe's soup dumplings and go to a show and maybe the Brooklyn Tabernacle before I meet up with my dad and we fly over to the UK.

I'm going to attempt to be more faithful in my updates, as I have more time now. I'm also going to redouble my efforts at finding my camera cord so that I can include some pictures in these monstrosities of text.

Raise your hand if a disembodied head means nothing to you anymore.

Oh, I see that you've also watched 300.

Like Maximus and William Wallace before him, King Leonidas was killed by the unconquerable foe, but achieved victory nonetheless.

I watched it tonight in the comfort of my own home. What is it about these heroic epics that call us to our couches again and again? We stand in droves $210 million strong to watch the three hundred battle the hosts.

I liked it. It was beautiful, if a little formulaic.

There is quite a bit of blood. And some nakedness.

Buyer beware.

goodbye to a good firm

Well folks, after four years of plying my accounting trade, I am officially unemployed. I've signed the papers, turned in the keys, and packed my life into one small Xerox box.

Here it is:

Leaving a job is like graduation without the awards and cash gifts (although I wouldn't be opposed to either if one had a hankering to send a little something).

I guess I probably need to start writing creatively now.