Working Girl

Good news! I got myself a job :D Sunday midday I got a call from the local pub, where I dropped off my resume earlier in the week. The manager asked if she could interview me. I went yesterday, and felt that it went really well. Then this afternoon she called back to offer me a full time position as bar staff. It's 35 hours a week, a mixture of nights, days, weekdays and weekends. It's close- just a few minute walk. The pay is respectable, plus I'll get 5 weeks of vacation a year. Yes, Europe is way more laid back about giving employees time off. Americans get the shaft. Annnyways, I've spent a good amount of time working in restaurants, which I always enjoyed, so I'm really pleased! It's also such a relief to find full time work so quickly- not going to lie, I was pretty worried.
I think it's pretty fun that I've moved away to England and have managed to land a very English job- pulling pints and wiping down the bar, serving food, etc. I'm really looking forward to it. I start this Thursday. Wish me luck!

I'm so happy that everything about moving here has gone so smoothly. Both visas and the national insurance number were all obtained easily and with no hassle. And now a job so quickly. I'm so thankful that things are settling into place. God is good! I hope this trend continues!

Bringing Thanksgiving to the Redcoats

What a great, full weekend we had here- visiting friends, attending parties, and for me, lots of cooking! Saturday night I began my cooking for our little belated Thanksgiving which we would hold on Sunday. It's hard to do Thanksgiving on Thursday here, because nobody has time off, obviously, since it isn't celebrated here. But that wasn't going to stop me- we pushed it to Sunday.
I did my two casseroles (sweet potato as well as twice baked potato), put them in the fridge to bake the following day, and left the turkey out to defrost.
When we woke up Sunday morning, hubby and I walked to the store for some last minute ingredients and came back to the house so I could get started on the pumpkin pie. I had ordered pie filling from amazon (not available here!) and got my store-bought crust out of the refrigerator to place in the pie dish. It was square instead of round, so I had to knead it and roll it out to make it fit the pie dish. Took care of it, placed it in the dish- looking good! Pop it in the oven to flash bake. Cool. I decided to check on it after a minute or two only to discover that the crust was slipping down the edges and settling in a pathetic puddle at the bottom of the dish. I freaked out, shouted for Mick, and got all teary. I'm not sure that it was really the crust that got me so upset. More likely it was the fact that I didn't get to have Thanksgiving with my family, didn't want to ruin the pie because it's my favourite part of Thanksgiving, and it was just a hectic morning. Back we went to the store to get more pasty ( 4!) and another pie dish, because the one at the house was shaped weird (straight edges instead of angles), which I thought added to the problem. We rushed home and I started over. It started to do the same thing, but only on one little edge of the crust, so I pulled it out of the oven and patched up the spot with extra pastry (which had been frozen and had to be thawed! Ugh!). Back in the oven to finishing flash bake and out in a few minutes. It looked pretty compromised, but it was holding together. In went the pumpkin mixture to finish baking. It all turned out fine, and tasted just like it should!
This was the only mishap of the day, apart from the store-bought apple pie that didn't want to bake. But that was okay, because we just did our dessert in two stages. Most of my Brits had never had pumpkin pie before, and they all seemed to like it. Even Mick, who had been more skeptical than the rest, said he really enjoyed it. And he is one picky man!
So thanks to my wonderful husband, his mom and step-dad, my sister in law and her boyfriend, I was able to have a Thanksgiving. And they helped make it special.
Hope you all had a wonderful weekend with your families and friends!

Centerpiece

My mom's side of the family always had gherkins and olives out on Thanksgiving. It wouldn't have felt legit without them!

My pie didn't look all that great, but it tasted perfect :)

I think I did Mama proud!

Pretty table

I know this is an awkward picture, but I swear- my husband does know what a camera is. He just hates them.

The turkey!

Happy Thanksgiving

Someone I know made a blog post the other day about the things for which she is thankful. As I read the post I was shocked to find the things that have happened in her life. Shocked and proud. And yet a little ashamed of myself, too. I'm not afraid to admit that, with the holidays fast approaching, my family and friends somewhere beyond the sea, and a nearly empty bank account dictating that I can't buy lavish gifts for them this year to compensate for the 5,000+ miles that I willingly put between us... I've been feeling pretty sorry for myself.
I knew when I made the decision to move to England that there would be bad days. Sad days and hard days. But I didn't really think about the fact that there would be, without doubt, days where I wanted nothing more than my people and my things. Because while my husband's people and things are truly wonderful... they're not mine. Not yet. I didn't spend 25 years developing bonds with them, and it's not, and probably never will be the same. It can be great, but different. In time.
I stop and think about the fact that I've been here, in the Queen's country, for five months now. Five whole months, and not much has happened. I only just got my visa, we still don’t have our own place. I still feel a pang in my chest and a knot in my throat 8/10 times I speak to my family and friends back home. I still feel the hurt when I hang up Skype and feel unfulfilled with crackly conversations. I feel guilty for leaving when there was still so much to learn about people, so much more love to give them, so much more deepening of relationships possible. And I start to panic: was I too hasty? Should I have given this more thought before I gushed about moving off to another country and marrying a guy with a sexy accent? I mean its every girl's dream! Five months and it still doesn't feel like home.
But then I stop and think about how in life, five months is really nothing. Let's say the average person lives 80 years. That's 960 months. Nearly 1000 months to live!!! That makes 5 months roughly .52% of your life. Less than one percent! It's when I realize things like this that I have to shake off and take a step back. It is not reasonable or fair to get frustrated with myself because I haven't gotten an entire restart to life figured out in .52% of my time here on this earth. It is ok to feel like I don't have my ducks in a row. Only .52% . It's ok to feel like this isn't home yet, especially when I spent another 31% building a life somewhere else. Half of a percent of my life. I will not let half of a percent of my life dictate what the next 657 months of my life will be like. Actually, that’s silly to say. No matter what I want, think or feel… it simply won’t dictate the rest of my life. This is a hiccup, a rut, a funk, a waiting room before I can get the rest of my life going. Things will get better, and in time, Mick and I will be able to do things and make adjustments that will make England a home. We haven’t been able to do many of these things, just because of the whole visa situation- the waiting room.
Everyone has always said the first year of moving far, far away is the hardest time. So is the first year of marriage. And, just because I never like to do things the easy way, I did it all at once, guaranteeing an emotional rollercoaster. And, oh boy, has it been just that.
So while there are things that will never change (I will probably always feel empty after I hang up the phone with certain people, I will probably always feel a little bit guilty, and there will most definitely always be days when I want to crawl into my old bedroom at my parents house, lay on the floor and think of all the fantastic memories), there are the things that will, and that’s what I need to focus on right now. I need to focus on the times Mick and I will have, searching the housing section of the paper for our first flat, a place to put the bed-sheets-pillows-plates-vases-chairs-tables-sofasfor which we’ll spend hours searching hand in hand. A safe, happy place to raise our children and fall in love with them. A place to put our life, not so much the things, but a place to put the things that represent our time together, and our love.

Now, let’s get on with that very Thanksgiving-y bit of this post - the things and people for which I am grateful.

My own strength
I think I’ve seen myself as a very weak person most of my life. As a little girl, I literally had panic attacks every single morning at the thought of going to school and being separated from my mother. It’s taken a lot of therapy, a lot of medication, a lot of feelings of worthlessness and insecurities to realize that I was quite the opposite. I may not have achieved greatness, but I have achieved goodness. I am a fierce friend, a loving daughter, granddaughter, sister and aunt, and a passionate wife. None of my shortcomings, though they be many, take away from my strong points. In fact, I think the fact that I’ve overcome (i.e. learned to accept and live with) those shortcomings has added to my strong points. My weakness has made me stronger. So much so that I’ve been able to do this very big thing without popping a single Xanax in almost a year.

A sense of adventure
It surprises even me that somehow, in that terrified little girl, stirred a soul wanting to break out and see the world. The one everybody thought would stick very close to home wanted adventure enough to go out and find it.

My mother
Where do I even begin? I am beyond grateful for a mother who pushed me, and still does to this day. I am so, so blessed to have a mom who was able to stay at home and raise me, not only for the typical benefits of such a thing, but because I got to know her extremely well. My mom is not just my mom, but she is my best friend, and no matter where I live, she always will be. I went into pretty deep detail in a previous post about all the things my mom has done for me, how she’s gone above and beyond the call of duty, even though there are no boundaries to a mother’s love. I think the most important gift my mom has given me is the hunger to have my own children someday, so that I can love them the way she loves me. I am grateful to have been raised by a woman who doesn’t hesitate for one second before going out and buying Christmas decorations for her daughter and son-in-law’s first Christmas tree after being told that we can’t quite work them into the budget this year. Something about that really tugged at my heartstrings – I think basically the knowledge that she is still there to take care of me. But I think, above all things, I am grateful for the fact that even though a twelve hour flight separates us, I still feel as close to her as I did when she was one bedroom away.

My father
My hero, my superman. My father is that strong, deep rooted tree. Never changing, always reliable, and always, always, always, beautiful in his dedication to the things he feels are most important: working hard to provide for the people he loves, being more of a listener than a speaker, and giving sound advice when he does. I am grateful for the things my dad has instilled in me, including a solid work ethic, an appreciation for my ancestry, a love of history, and a deep and abiding dedication to doing the right thing. I love hearing the stories from his childhood, which differs greatly from mine – stories of getting into trouble on a farm and riding motorcycles with his friends. I think I ache the most over being away from my dad, because there have just always been so many things I wanted to say to him, but never seemed to find the right words. Maybe I can find them now, and I hope my mom shows him this (he’s not the most tech savvy person): I am grateful for my dad because he is the person I want to be. I still want to be just like daddy.

My Grandma Flo
Though Grandma Flo died when I was 16, she taught me that if I have only two pennies to my name, I still have one to give away. I am so grateful to have been shown so much generosity by this beautiful woman, and miss her every day. Her lesson has stuck with me, because even though my savings account is dwindling away, I have that urge to give and share.

My dad’s parents
Your traditional down home, Irish Catholic cow folk family. I am grateful to see what love looks like sixty years down the road. My grandparents met when they were five, began dating in high school and never loved anyone else. I am grateful to see such an example of love and loyalty.

My brother
Time changes a lot of things, but one thing it will never change is that I still want to follow my big brother around. I really don’t think that any little sister in the world was as lucky as me. Gone are the days of playing Ninja Turtles and Matchbox cars together. Gone are the days of watching him play video games and watching out for bad guys with him. No more pretend WWF, him on his knees and one arm behind his back to make it more fair to his six year old sister. No more Mambas and Cactus Cooler brought home to me from his biking adventures with his friends. But now we have other things- a shared love for sushi, hiking, the same lame but fantastic sense of humor, numerous instances where we’ve both walked away from a funny situation with sore cheeks and a stitch in our side from laughing so hard. I am grateful to have a big brother who never made me feel like I was anything but the coolest little kid around, and like he was as lucky to have me as I was to have him.

My sister
My sister is a decade older than me, and by the time I was nine she had already moved out, but I’m often surprised to find out how much we have in common. This year she has achieved so much in her career, and my pride has driven me to tears at least once. She is so much like my dad- hardworking and dedicated and so, so driven. She is an amazing mother, a fantastic story teller, with a snappy, witty sense of humor and one of the most efficient women on the planet. I’ve often wished that we were closer in age so that we could have been closer growing up, but now I find myself feeling really lucky to have someone who has experienced so much more than me. I am grateful for the chance to watch her be the mother, wife, and driven amazing women I hope I can be, too. I am grateful that I get to learn from her and love her the way only sisters can.

My niece
That same amazing sister of mine gave our family a beautiful gift almost exactly four years ago (with the help of her lovely husband, Fes, who I am also grateful for and love like he’s been a part of this family since before I was born). Little Ella was born with a slate blue eyes and a soul wrapped beneath layers of blankets that we would all swoon over. This little blonde haired, blue eyed angel has cast her spell on our family and nobody can remember what it was like before she was born. She is scary smart, gentle, kind, generous, hilarious, full of pure, unbridled joy and wonder, and if you looked up the word “magic” in the dictionary, you’d see her face as the definition. I am grateful that I have such an amazing little person to bestow with cuddles and kisses and toys and candy.

My friends
I have far too many special friends to dedicate a section to each of them, so I’m going to focus on the two who have been the biggest influences in my life.

I met Tabatha when I was two years old, and therefore don’t remember a time in my life when she didn’t exist. We grew up across the street from each other until that fateful day in 1996 when my dad, mom and I moved to Arizona. All along the way, I have loved this girl and she has loved me back. She comforted me during those daily panic attacks on the way to school, taught me how much fun it can be to get into just a little bit of trouble, and shared her beautiful imagination with me. I’ve seen her struggle, but most other people would have no idea that there was anything other than candy and rainbows in this woman’s life. There is never anything but a smile on her face and a silly remark on her lips. She is the most happy-go-lucky person I have ever met and makes the best out of every situation. I am grateful to have a friend who has seen me through crayons, nail polish, training bras, funerals, weddings and birthday parties, and that I’ve been able to be there for her as many times as she’s been there for me.

I met Brittany when we were both in college, studying to become teachers. We instantly became good friends, rounding up our long, uneventful night classes with Hamburger Helper and Harry Potter movies at her house. Brittany and I have watched each other grow from college students to full time working teachers. We’ve shared shattered relationships, and the joy of creating new, life changing ones. I’ve listened to her frustrations with motherhood, and she held my hand through a devastating, 3 month long emotional breakdown. I fell in love with this girl- with her ability to adapt to any situation and fight tooth and nail to get what she wants out of this life. I am grateful to have a friend who is willing to drop her very full list of obligations to help those she loves.

My in laws
Mick’s mom and stepdad asked no questions when we got engaged. It was understood and accepted happily that we would live with them until we got on our feet. They have really helped us out and made it possible for us to be together. They also helped a lot with the wedding, and so did his dad. The financial and moral support from his family during this time has made all the difference. I’m also really glad Mick has a sister- it’s like a built in friend, and she’s really cool. I’m grateful to have been welcomed into a family like this.

My Husband
Ah, here we are. You might think that this one would be the easiest, but in fact, I find it quite difficult to put just how grateful I am for Mick into words. I think that there are a lot of people in the world that you can be happy with, and then there is that one person who encompasses everything you need and love. Mick is my best friend, my family, my partner in crime, my alter ego, and the love of my life. I always knew (mostly because my mother reminded me of it during those difficult teenage years where I probably made her extremely frustrated on a daily basis) that it would take a special kind of guy to love me. Well, Mick is certainly special. He has his days, but most of the time he is incredibly patient with me. He lets me be sad when I miss my family and reminds me that it will get better. He shares in my joy (when I am sad, I’m very sad, but oh, when I’m happy, it’s euphoric). I wouldn’t want to spend my life loving or arguing with anyone else. And isn’t that exactly how marriage should be?

This Blog
I am really grateful to this blog, and to the people who read it. Writing in here during the engagement, wedding plans, after the honeymoon and through visa applications has really helped me. I’ve always loved writing, and have always been better at expressing myself with my fingers than with my lips. I really think that coming here a few times a week has helped me with this transition. Sometimes I sit down to write a little something and the thoughts that come really help clear my head. Thank you for sharing this journey with me, and I hope you stick around for the rest of the ride.

Wishing you and yours a very peaceful Thanksgiving, full of cheer, love, and good food. May we know, each and every day, how truly blessed we are. I ask that when you sit down at your table tonight, you remember those who are far away and want nothing more than to be sitting next to you. Including me. God bless.

Lurking Outside my Bedroom Window

Last night, I crawled into my warm, comfy bed and grabbed my book off the nightstand. Mick was getting ready for bed in the bathroom. The bedroom window right over the bed was open. I sat there with my book, hoping it would eventually get interesting. And then I heard a noise. At first I thought it was a cat. And then again. It sounded slightly more human. Like a growling shriek, something off of one of those Animal X-File type shows. And again. Okay, it definitely wasn't human. I kept listening, and finally jumped out of bed, banged on the bathroom door and drug Mick by the arm to the bedroom, still with a ring of toothpaste around his mouth. "You have to hear this!"
We sat and waited for a moment, but it didn't happen again. He pointed to his mouth and mumbled in that way you do when your mouth is full and said "I fill have foofpaste in my mouf." I dismissed him, and as soon as the bathroom door shut behind him, I heard the sound again, but that was the last time I heard it.
I'm not going to lie, I was a little bit creeped out. I wondered if it could have been a screech owl. I've heard of them, but have never actually heard the sounds they make. I found a video of a screech owl on YouTube, and that definitely wasn’t it. However, I now know what sounds they used for that creepy little dinosaur in Jurassic Park- the one with the frills around its neck that spits oil and kills the fat guy. Yep, screech owl sounds. Not for that nasty scream it does, but for the cooing sounds.
For some reason, I couldn’t get La Chupacabra out of my head. Growing up in the Southwest, La Chupacabra is something you hear about frequently. It’s a big bit of Mexican folklore. I made a post on facebook about how I thought I was hearing La Chupacabra out my bedroom window. My cousin back in America asked me if it couldn’t be some sort of English monster. Well, interesting. I don’t know of any British monsters. I know Scotland has Nessie, but there’s no water around us here. I know the Irish have Banshees, and, actually, it did feel a bit Banshee-ish, but again, we’re in the Southeast of England, not Ireland.
I turned to Google. And I came up with the two following possibilities. Click on the orangey-brown links to learn more.

(Yes, this info was taken from Wikipedia, but don't get on your high horse about my sources. I'm researching monsters, okay?)

Owlman of Mawnan

Or, this one. I'll admit it's pretty far fetched, even for a monster sighting.... but the sounds were right.

Pterodactyls in England (hey! We all know that the Pterodactyls escaped the island at the end of Jurassic Park 3; it could happen, people!)

Well, what do you think? I can honestly say I've never heard sounds like this before. What was it?

****Crazy disclaimer: No, I don't really think there was a monster outside my bedroom window (famous last words?). I'm sure it was an animal in distress (I've heard rabbits make weird noises) or even a car making a strange noise. This was just a fun and silly post inspired by my cousin's encouragement to investigate English monsters.****

Christmas Swagger

It seems to me that even the creepy crawly creatures are getting ready for Christmas.
Even the spiders are puttin' up their swag this year.

Leaving my Problems in my Footprints

Today, I found solace in my run. I haven't gone for one for over a week because I'm really, really good at coming up with excuses. I decided to start my normal route backwards, and then instead of taking the short stretch of trail to the right that quickly circles back into the neighborhood, I decided to turn left on the trail. I felt slightly embarrassed with myself for being so excited at the thought of this. My body felt great running in the woods, with rotten leaves and mud forming a cushion- much easier than running on concrete. It was better for my knees.

It was easy to run today, because Mick and I had this ridiculous argument and quite frankly, I didn't want to go back to the house. I just kept going, and couldn't believe how good it felt in my body to be running. I of course walked a good bit, but I think I ran more on the whole. It was a beautiful route and I think I'll make it my regular jog.
The woods offered multiple little trails, but I wasn't that worried about getting lost because I could still see the houses the entire way (the woods are essentially right in the middle and on the edge of the housing development). I took one little trail that shot off the main one and it led me to a beautiful clearing.

 The trail wrapped around the edge of the circular clearing and led back to the entrance into the woods from where I came. I came upon a woman wearing wellies and walking her chocolate lab who slobbered on me happily. I circled around the clearing and disappeared into the woods again, my anger being eaten away with every step I put between myself and the house.

By the time it started to get dark and I turned for the house (it was very difficult to turn around), I felt pretty excited about running this route every day. This trail is good for my soul. And by the time I reached the house, my real husband (and not the growly bear I left) was waiting for me (now the nice version of myself after a beautiful run) and we were able to talk things over calmly.

Looking forward to my run tomorrow.

Where do your runs take you?

Phriday Photo Phrenzy

My husband's body has been taken over by a Modern Warfaring demon.

I made stuffed peppers for dinner earlier in the week.

Santa is on my coke can. Christmas is nigh!

Cuddles during movie time. "What Lies Beneath" was our movie choice.

Very, very mean bug bite :(

Somebody (daddy) left the treat cup on the floor and left the room... both bunnies took advantage, but here is Harley being naughty :p

Christmas comes fast in England, because they don't have Thanksgiving to break up the time between Halloween and Christmas. I like this and I don't at the same time. I'm hoping to do a little Thanksgiving for us here next Sunday (it's just not practical to do it on a Thursday- nobody gets the day off!), but it will be low-key, because it's my first time cooking all that kind of stuff.
My mother-in-law got us a little 3ft tree to put in our lounge. I'm so excited- I think it would be a nice size to put on the window sill. Because I haven't gotten a job yet and savings are dwindling, I'm going to make pretty paper snowflakes for our ornaments this year with this tutorial. I'll get some glitter pens and make them kind of sparkly. I think it'll be fun.

Hubby's friend is arriving this afternoon for the weekend. Should be a good time.

Happy Friday- have a great weekend!

Oh and ps- I had my national insurance interview yesterday- all went well and my number should arrive in two weeks. In the meantime, I can start looking for work :)

Looking forward

I know I've asked you to be patient with the lull in events over here. I have the feeling it's that calm before the storm that we are all so familiar with. I've been learning as I've grown up that life just keeps getting busier- gone are the days of after school snacks and cartoons being your biggest concern. Now that the wedding is done, I feel the gogogo of life beckoning me. Thursday I go to my interview for my national insurance number and if all goes well, I'll soon have my own number. And then it will be time for applications and interviews and resumes (ugh, stressful things!). Then we'll be saving and hunting for a place of our own, furniture hunting, rent paying, and I'll start driving lessons and looking for a car. And then life will be in full swing and babies will be planned (that's a fast forward) and on and on and on! So I guess I should savour days like today, where I'm free to hang out on the sofa with a can of Diet Coke and a stack of Christmas cards to add messages, signatures and addresses to while watching Gilmore Girls, snuggled under the quilt my mom gave me for graduation.

Leaving you with some snaps, as always!

Great weekends make the world go round

Another quiet week, but followed this time by a great weekend! Friday night we met with some friends, Paul and Danielle, and had dinner at their house followed by games and soaked with wine. So much wine.
It was a great night, and even though when I entered their home, I'd only met them once at the wedding, I left feeling like I'd known them for a very long time. And that's a very good feeling.
It made me feel like definitely, soon, this place will be home. Plans were made and we got into a cab feeling jolly, and in my case, rather wobbly.

We tumbled in the door (well I did, Mick was sober) at 3am and collapsed into bed while I rambled on about God knows what and finally fell into a spiny sleep.

Yesterday I woke up with quite the hangover, but after some water and toast, I started to become myself again. Mick and I had a quiet day of watching films and Friends while house sitting for his dad, and my sister in law stopped by in the afternoon for a visit. Today is another quiet, lazy day. We all need those :)

Have some photos. And a lovely Sunday!

Damp, damp, damp!

A very wet and slippery trail near the house.

Whew! It feels like ages since I've actually sat down and written a real post in here. Life has been in that state of not really busy, but of time flying and you can't really remember what you've been doing. We're still working on getting the house unpacked and sorted. Slowly but surely, it's happening.

I'm a bit baffled by the weather around here lately. The sky is perpetually grey. In fact, I can't remember the last time I saw the sun. Perhaps sometime last week? And even then it was a brief glimpse. I'm not bothered by this, though. I had 14 years of constant sun in Arizona. I like the change. But what really confuses me is the damp. It hasn't really been raining exactly, but it looks like it has. The ground is wet, the grass is covered in little beads of moisture, as are the trees, leaves, berries and twigs. The cars are wet. I don't understand! It's just so damp. You can almost see the moisture in the air, coming down, but not as rain. I'm sure this all seems really normal and unextraordinary to you, but I'm completely nonplussed!

And now it's time for a confession. Sigh.
Last night Mick and I were watching a movie and a guy picked up a girl and spun her around. My heart sank. I've always struggled with my weight, but especially since I was about 18. I'm not one of those people you see walking down the street and go "whoooa!" (no offense to anybody who is, I don't mean to sound rude there). Not by any means, but I am definitely obese, clinically speaking. Anyway, last year I lost loads of weight, mostly due to depression, but once I got happy again, boom! It all came back. I've been talking about working out and eating right again for ages, making promises to myself and to Mick. He doesn't mind that I'm this size, but he supports that I want to be slimmer and healthier. So, when I saw this guy spinning this girl in circles, I made last night the last time I would ever consume an entire pack of anything that was more than a serving (Fig Newtons, in this case). It's not even that I eat horribly, or obscene amounts. I just have this ridiculous metabolism that makes it impossible for me to not gain weight unless I work out. So, it's time I start listening to my body instead of my lazy brain and do what it takes. So today, I woke up and MEASURED MY OATMEAL. Then I went for a jog/walk.
And I have to say... I feel better today than I have for a long time. I feel good about myself because running has always been something that I wanted to do. I envy people who can just throw on a pair of sneakers and get their workout without paying a gym membership or listening to Billy Blanks shout at me on his Tae Bo DVDs to do some ridiculous mixture of steps ONE MORE TIME. Yet he tells me to do it just ONE MORE TIME like FIFTY TIMES. Even though I walked more than I ran, I plan to shift that ratio. It'll just take some practice. So, yeah, my legs felt like wobbly jelly and it felt like I had a chunk of ice in my chest (it was cold out) when I was done, but I felt good about me. I guess I just have to remind myself of that feeling every time I tell myself that I don't feel like working out. And remember to stretch! So that by this time next year, Mick can easily pick me up and spin me around.

How do you motivate yourself to be active? How do you find ways to enjoy it?

And I'm going to leave you with this quote because I've found a few grey hairs in the past year or so (I blame middle school students!). And this sort of puts it in perspective...

"Worrying about gray hair when your weight's soaring out of control is like mowing your lawn when you house is on fire."
-Edward Ugel

This weekend should be good- Mick and I are going to dinner at a friends house. And then house-sitting for his dad again. 
Hope you're all well :)

News!

Good news! My visa arrived this morning, so now I can go job hunting! Not sure what I'll find but hopefully something good will come along in this yucky economy! Cross your fingers and say some prayers that I find something quickly!
I promise to write a good lengthy post soon!
Here are a few photos from the weekend :) happy Monday!
-----
Okay, been a few hours and I've found more info out. In looking at job applications today I realised that I need a national insurance number. I think this is like a social security number? Just because I've been granted a visa doesn't mean I'm automatically given a national insurance number. Sooo I called the border agency and they told me who to get in contact with. Apparently I have to go to an interview to get this number? So I have an appointment next week to go do this. I'm hoping it's just a formality to show them my papers and Residency Permit to prove that I moved here legally. I'm not too worried, it's just another of the many steps I've had to take to live here. I just wish I had known about it earlier I guess??? Oh well, we shall see!

Photo Dump

Not much news around here- still just trying to get settled in the new house bit by bit.
But here are some photos for you.

For Mom

My mother started a tradition with my sister, her oldest child. When each of us graduated with our bachelor's degree, she made us a quilt. I chose pink and green and toile. And with love and patience, she stitched a beautiful masterpiece.

The other day my mom asked me, “how could you move like that?” She didn’t mean it in any harsh way. She and I are very different people, and she just meant she personally couldn’t do the massive thing I have done- quitting my job, leaving everything I know, and starting over in another country. I always knew that it would be hard for my mom when I left.
But it made me think- how could I, the little girl who used to have a panic attack every day before school and couldn’t spend the night at a friends house without wanting to go home in the middle of the night, become this woman who did what I did.

And then I got this quote, and I think it answers both my mother’s and my own question.

"Mother love is the fuel that enables a normal human being to do the impossible."  ~Marion C. Garretty

And it’s true. I’ve always had anxiety problems- most of the time it’s underlying, but other times it’ll flare up and can be pretty debilitating. When I was a kid, I wanted to quit school because I hated it so much, and I had a literal phobia of going to school until I was about twelve, as well as separation anxiety. But my mom and dad pushed me, because education and socialization is very important and they didn’t let me drop out and get home-schooled. I begged. I threw fits. But because my mom and dad loved me enough to not give in (and to go through the panicked battle with me day after day after day after day) and do what was best for me, I was able to finish elementary school. I was able to finish middle school, high school, earn an associates degree and graduate with honors with a Bachelor’s degree.

And then, when Mick came back in my life two years ago, I knew I would have to make a decision at some point. It was difficult for me, because I knew that for he and I to be together, a lot of things in my life were going to change. I worried what my parents would think, what my brother and sister would say. But I found the answer within myself. I found the strength to do what was best for me, because I’d seen my mother do it for me when I was a little girl. I saw her say no to the easy way, and do it the right way.

So, to answer my mom’s question- I was able to move away because I did what she did- I knew what was best for me, and even though I knew it would be hard, I did it anyway. She loved me and did the impossible, so that I could, too. 

Although a Mother's love isn't a love I understand just yet, I do know some about it, because I've been on the receiving end. I've also watched my sister grow with motherhood; I've seen how she looks at my niece and listened to her talk about just how much that gorgeous little girl means to her. So while I don't yet have my own children and can't completely grasp what a mother feels, I have an inkling, and I am thankful to be loved in such a way by such a remarkable woman, and for the opportunity to love her back with a daughter's love.