This is the single hardest thing I've ever been through in my life so far.

I am not coping so well.

You may think I am so tough and so strong, but I'm really not.

I just can't figure out how to say goodbye.

My therapist has even offered an "emergency" phone session tonight, but I don't think I can. I may be going off the rails but the phone, it's not to be trusted.

It's been less than 48 hours since the sonographer whispered to me how sorry she was. They moved us then to The Private Room. I think my sobbing freaked out the next patients. While wrapped tightly in the embrace of Angus I made sounds like a wounded animal. I guess that's what I am.

Before the scan there was a baby in the waiting room with bright blue eyes.

I've lost 6 pounds and still going. Fall is coming and right now I hate it so much I can't bear it.

Why does no one tell you how fucking messy a miscarriage is? How it actually hurts? And that the pregnancy hormone takes so long to leave your system that you still have pregnancy symptoms, while you're not pregnant anymore?

I had a job interview yesterday. I got the job. It's a promotion. My new title is impressive and I'll now be a line manager. Strange, considering all day people kept looking at me and asking if I was ok. I should have asked what kind of miscarriage package the job comes with, because we will be trying again at IVF, because I have a new fear of this ever happening again.

I am so disjointed I don't even make sense to myself. When I get bad I watch mindless TV, because mindless TV doesn't hurt. I can't listen to music as music hurts. I can't read anything online. I can't talk to people because I can't bear the pity.

I'm not the first person to lose and sadly I won't be the last. I am not unique. This will pass but it hasn't passed yet. Maybe it stops when the bleeding stops, which is still some days away.

I don't know why I'm posting this.

I don't want to talk to anyone but Angus.

I would be lost without Angus.

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 07:09 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 388 words, total size 2 kb.

I'm going to be away from blogging for a little bit-both from reading others and from writing on my own.

Surprisingly, I don't feel like talking right now, I just feel like caving inwards and being in the silence of myself and Angus, who has been an incredible rock and my support.

I've just miscarried our baby.

Please don't email me saying it will all be ok.

I'm sure, in the fullness of time, it will be.

It just doesn't feel like it right now.

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 10:42 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Blogging is, occasionally, completely exhausting.

Not just when I got the blitz of hate mail from that whole brouhaha, no, that was a whole seperate version of hell. That episode made me feel decidedly exposed, and I've had a hard time writing anything since I got back from holiday after that.

No, blogging can sometimes be tiring simply because of what it is-putting it all out there. I sometimes get emails questioning if this is all an act or not, if I'm really real (I am. I swear I am. Ask my imaginary friends, they'll tell you.) Sometimes I get random nasty emails from people that have nothing better to do than attack how I look, if I should be a parent, that I need to see a therapist (helllooooo-obviously haven't been reading here too long then, eh?), or the one I got today from a Terry Boschetti, who told me that my website was disgusting, they can't imagine who gave them the link. I replied back to him (her? Does it really matter?) that I can't imagine who gave them the link either-really nice people read me, and Terry, you sure seem like a tosser.

You know, stuff like that.

I get nice emails too, from nice people. I like those emails. I'm always surprised when I get those, but those are nice.

Trying to decode how I feel about things is exhausting enough, but it's when the negative comes in that I find it really tiring. I don't mean disagreeing-by all means, disagree with me, but keeping it civil seems like the least any of us can do. This has been weighing on my mind a great deal, after my events two weeks ago and now with other things going on.

One of my big concerns is motherhood. If, at the end of whatever tunnel I am finally walking down, I actually get to be a mother, then I face a real quandry. I've seen it in a few places now, Ilyka's being one of them (and one of the better written ones), and this is what I fear most about the distinction of parent vs. non-parent (and more so, about having an opinion if you're in one camp talking about the other)-

The Judgement.

The streams of advice also cause minor degrees of wigging on my part-even though Statia rightfully owns half my brain, while I read her daily sometimes I just can't face reading her comments as they're chock full of progesterone-related advice, some of it conflicting, much of it (if I were in Statia's shoes, which I'm not) overwhelming (although the detractors on her site tend to be civil). But I can't face the stocks of advice. If I want to talk I'll IM her. If she wants to tell me about her symptoms I'll listen and sympathize then try to make her puke by talking about cheese (love you, babe.)

Motherhood is something that seems far away to me, like leading a polar expedition or deciding that sure, Pluto is no longer a planet but fuckit, I like the cold and I'm setting up camp there. Motherhood is this crazy, bizarre spiral path that you have to go through the biggest obstacle courses to get to, and once you get there you realize that the maze is 100 times bigger than you ever thought it would be. It's something I want very much but right now it's so far away I'm just milling around the punch bowl with my "Hello! My name is Helen" badge, rearranging the hors d'ouevres and trying desperately to get picked for the dodgeball game taking place later in the day.

Search Google on IVF, pregnancy, and parenting issues and blogs rank among the top results. Blogs are here to stay, I think, and more and more people turn to them as a point of reference-we can read the medical journals where in a study of 122 people 57 had x while 22 had y, but it makes more sense when someone named Timmy'sMama151 talks about it on her blog, and you think: Yes, so someone else had that side effect on that medication as well. Whew!

The advice, though, is why Mommy blogs and Mommy websites frighten the fuck out of me. Before you start the hate mail, I'm not having a go at Mommy blogs-they have their place and their loyal readers and everyone's happy, la la la. I don't have an issue with Mommy blogs, everyone's entitled to write about what they like and, like with my little space here, if you don't like it, cool-that's what the "X" at the top right hand corner is for. Just click off it. Mommy blogs have great communities of fellow moms and they provide a valuable resource to other mommies (just whatever you do, don't cross some of them. I've seen what happens when a stray deer gets into the crosshairs in some of the blogs and it's not pretty. Mommy blogs, like everything else in the Land of Internet, has a hierarchy and a pecking order-I read somewhere that there was a storm during a Blog Conference (I know-I can't believe they have those either!) and someone stated they didn't like Mommy Blogs. From there on, the poor woman had to wear a huge scarlet "C" (for Child-free) on her chest and was seriously vilified.)

That's what does freak me out. When you go to some of them (not all Mommy blogs, but enough of them to make an impression) and see cat fights in the comments-sometimes the Mommies don't just disagree, they disagree and they've brought their brass knuckles to back up their argument. Examples:

Camp A: Swaddle your child! Children need to feel secure!

Camp B: Are you fucking crazy? Swaddling is like bondage! Your children will have attachment issues!

Or:

Camp A: Let your children cry a bit before picking them up! You have to get them used to you not being at your beck and call!

Camp B: You child abuser! Neglecting your child to cry like that, the shame!

And let's not forget the big one:

Camp A: I'm not breastfeeding. I've discussed it with my pediatrician and there are as many nutrients in formula as breastmilk.

Camp B: Breastfeeding is natural and normal! REAL mothers breastfeed, only women who don't deserve to be mothers give formula!

Camp A: Back off, you La Leche bitch!

Camp B: Fuck you, you should be charged with abuse and your child given to someone with a breast pump built into the bathroom wall!

It goes on, covering everything from being home births to being a stay at home mom to if you should just chuck junior into the deep end and see if he can swim from Day 2. And in some of these places it's so heated it's no longer civil. I was in a site the other day and I swear I had to duck from the Ninja Star-stabbed teddy bears being chucked around the place.

And that's not even including the pregnancy advice. Drink ginger ale! Eat crackers! Go sky diving! Talk to your doctor! No, your doctor is wrong! You shouldn't be bleeding! You should be bleeding! You shouldn't complain! You should complain! Exclamation points are the work of Satan!

And on the infertility blogs, it's even worse. The worst two offenders: Why don't you just relax? and Why don't you just adopt? If I had a nickel for every time I'd seen those two, I could quit my fucking job and party in my helicopter.

And as someone who is infertile-let me tell you, those statements are the most patronizing in the history of bad advice.

But it's the way that advice is rendered on fsome ertility and pregnancy and mommy blogs that blows me away. Recently, someone I read daily had a chemical pregnancy during IVF (which means it failed). In the comments, there amongst the "I'm so sorry"s (which is all you can say for something like that, I know) was one saying: So now that your one embryo failed, isn't it time to try with two?

And I think: What is it about opening your heart and your uterus to people that makes them disconnect mouth from brain before saying something? This women JUST MISCARRIED YESTERDAY. This statement couldn't have waited until some of the pain lessened, at least to the point when the poor blog author could take off her sweatpants and crawl out of bed?

I'm not a mother. I'm a stepmother, which is hard enough, but I'm not crazy enough to say that's anywhere near the fortitude requied to be a mother. Of course I have opinions on children, but most of the time I don't feel "allowed" to give them because I'm not a Mommy (I just play one on TV). Angus has two nieces that I think are little terrors-last week we saw them and the 4 and a half year old was screaming at the top of her lungs that SHE WANTED A JUICE BOX AND SHE WANTED IT RIGHT NOW. Then she proceeded to smack Gorby-twice-for doing nothing but walking past her. I restrained myself from saying something (not for the juice box thing, but because nobody hits my dog) simply because I'm not a mother, I didn't feel I had the right to ask if she could keep her amatuer pugilism to herself. I spent the rest of the evening keeping our dog away from the kid.

So it's natural to have opinions. I even have them, and I have no progeny. But it's the way that advice is doled out sometimes that makes me tired. Should I ever have a kid, I don't think this blog would become a Mommy blog, mostly because the judgements and the advice terrifies me so much, the absolutism that what I am doing is (in some eyes) wrong.

We all have views on what is right for kids. Maybe it's right for us, maybe it's not right for others. It exhausts me to think of the condemnation that some women get, just for expressing their opinion and their wants for their child, their body, their fertility (and thus I'm not currently giving my opinion on swaddling/breast feeding/letting them cry/home births/stay at home moms/throwing junior in the pool. Mostly because I haven't worked out the right answers on those for myself*.)

-H.

PS-I understand some people have had problems commenting-I've re-edited the IP banning, so it should be ok now (unless you've been deliberately banned, and those few know who they are.)

*-except the home birthing thing. That just doesn't do it for me. Totally ok for others, absolutely do what you feel comfortable with, I just don't think that would be for me.

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 08:08 AM | Comments (24) | Add Comment
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1 This is my big advice on parenting advice...nobody knows what's best for your kid more than you.Sometimes, new moms have a hard time finding that inner mommy voice,that instinct that tells them what to do.That doesn't mean it isn't there.When you don't hear it loud and clear at first you might start listening to the judgements of others and start judging yourself. There is no absolute when it comes to parenting..you can't say "I'll never swaddle" or "I'll always let him/her cry it out a little" because it just depends on the child.So, unless your inner voice tells you to stick your kid in the washing machine or something equally odd,just trust yourself...I've been reading you for quite awhile and I trust that you will take what you like from all the advice,think it over,and leave the rest.

Posted by: Fawn at August 25, 2006 11:32 AM (4MNYN)

2 The difference between being a parent and not being a parent is like the difference between sex with someone you love and masturbation. Experiencing the former in no way resembles the latter. I do think you should have said something to the child for hitting the dog. At the very least, going over and saying "Here honey, he likes it better when you do this" while you stroke Gorby and reassure him. Then again, hindsight is 20-20. Fawn is %100 correct. No one knows what's best for your child other than you. Private opinions on how others are raising their children--and I have many--should be kept private.

Posted by: ~Easy at August 25, 2006 12:20 PM (fKIJ3)

3 Wow, I loved this post of yours. I think you're completely right too. I think when it comes to anything having to do with motherhood (even IF or even something like starting to try), it's extremely touchy. I discuss my thoughts with 3 people at this point. My mom, my best friend, and my husband. Eventually I'll probably talk to my MIL as well (have tons of respect for her as it is). But these are all people that I can disagree with and love unconditionally. I don't think I can take it from anyone else to be honest. Not sure how well I'll even handle advice from them. As far as people online being jerks...it's scary the type of people you meet online. Because you know they're really like that in their heart of hearts. I feel as if you get to see the reality of so many people online. And some, I'd probably have preferred to never have known they exist.

Posted by: Minawolf at August 25, 2006 12:54 PM (cH5GO)

4 I think you've touched on the very thing I think is wrong with the world these days - everyone is so concerned with sharing their opinion and being RIGHT, that people don't bother to shut up, listen, and empathize anymore.

Posted by: geeky at August 25, 2006 01:52 PM (ziVl9)

5 Well, I know I'd miss the hell out of you if you walked away from blogging; but I'd also understand that priorities change. It's a lot like a favorite author, cartoonist, or columnist deciding it's time to retire; we're sad to see them go from the public spector, but respect their need/want to do so. As for the assvice banded about on the internet I know that on occasion I've found myself doing it - and have hopefully hit delete each and everytime - I believe there should be some type of unwritten rule (or written if that's what it takes) that if you wouldn't walk across the street and give this unsolicited advice face-to-face to your stranger/neighbor then you shouldn't do it on the internet. Such a simple rule to live by.... Have a good weekend.

Posted by: cursingmama at August 25, 2006 02:48 PM (PoQfr)

6 The parenting calculus is simple: you never get to run the experiment again, so it's certain you will do parts of it wrong. The trick is to also do some parts right, and accept that this is the best humans can achieve.

Posted by: A. reader at August 25, 2006 02:58 PM (J3dE7)

7 Hum. I'm admittedly a slacker mom, so feel free to ignore anything I say, but a few thoughts. First off, being a stepmom, aside from the semi-part-time nature of the job, seems to me like it would be ALOT more difficult than parenting your own squirmy offspring, so kudos on that. I'm not sure I could walk a mile in your pumps, Helen, or that I'd even want to. I parented my niece and nephew for 6 months, and it's hard when they aren't yours from birth. Secondly, being a mom...Mommy guilt is the worst feeling ever, especially because so much of it is imposed by other moms. What I will say is this...if it isn't any fun, and it's all so deadly serious, I don't see any point to doing it at all. I figure a little dirt in my house will help my kids develop a solid immune system, I did the best I could at balancing bottle/breast (and never felt a moment's guilt for how I handled it), and the only thing I ever feel strongly about is when other people's kids are allowed to act like spoiled brats in public. The rest? It's a tough job, people just do the best they can. I know I do. There is plenty for folks to criticize, and it's funny how much well-meaning (and highly critical) *advice* I've gotten (especially from people who've never done the job). 90% of the time, every mom out there is just guessing at the right course of action and crossing her fingers that it will work. The sureness is only present when we're pretending to other moms that we really know what we're doing. But not being a serious mom, I'll tell you the truth: We're all just winging it. There isn't any one right way to be a mom. If you figure out something that works for one child, god forbid you have another one because your cool little won't work with them. It's all a big guessing game, and none of us is sure of anything at all except that we want it to end well. But don't tell any of the other moms, or they'll beat me up after the PTA meeting.

Posted by: trouble at August 25, 2006 03:41 PM (j2vfb)

8 Something about pregnancy/motherhood just makes the unwanted opinions/advice flow. I remember distinctly one day when I was pregnant, and within the space of 5 minutes I got two comments from strangers: "Wow, you're really big", followed with (you guessed it) "Wow, you're really small". Brought it home for me. After that, I just nodded, smiled, and disregarded. Ultimately, you have to go with what feels right for you, and as for everyone else....who cares.

Posted by: loribo at August 25, 2006 03:44 PM (RYVp+)

9 I agree with Geeky, in this world today everyone has an opinion and wants to be right. Being childless myself, I still get asked when we are having kids or why we didn't or why don't we adopt, It makes me want to cry every time, but I just smile and tell them we waited too long and I had to have a hysterectomy, end of story, that usually shuts them the hell up. Just from the way you treat Gorby I know you will be an amazing mommy

Posted by: Cheryl at August 25, 2006 05:57 PM (msF2q)

10 Dude. FUCK THAT. You have every right to tell that kid not to hit your dog. She's in YOUR house. She needs to respect your rules. She's four, old enough to understand. And when you do have kids, I'm sending you clown printed strollers. Looooooooooove youuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu.

Posted by: statia at August 25, 2006 06:00 PM (KcrOI)

11 unfortunately children do not come out with directions attached so go with your instincts and know you did/do your best.

Posted by: Steff at August 25, 2006 06:07 PM (F5RrO)

12 The anonymity of the internet allows people to write things they would never say out loud IRL, unfortunately. In a way we bloggers get to see their real colors, which in some cases, ain't pretty. I welcome discussion, even outright disagreement, but there is never any reason not to be civilized, EVER. OK, off soapbox.

Posted by: Donna at August 25, 2006 06:43 PM (Aanzg)

13 Statia's right. Nobody treats my dog like that. I wouldn't have smacked her but I would sure as hell have picked her up and taken her right back to her mother (kicking and screaming) with the firm statement that until she learns some self-control she is not allowed to play with the dog. In fact I have had to do that. With my little cousins at the same age. Made their asshole dad so mad he walked out. But she's my baby, and I wasn't going to sit for that just because she's a dog and they were kids. Just because you aren't a "Mommy" doesn't mean you don't have the right to complain when someone isn't watching their kid. that's their job, not yours. Your kids are your job: Gorby, Maggie, and Mumin

Posted by: caltechgirl at August 25, 2006 06:59 PM (/vgMZ)

14 I'm just full of opinions and advice today..Try hanging a sign up that says "this property is maintained for the safety of my animals,if you kick,hit,pull my dogs ears or my cats tails or let any of your children do the same -----> there's the exit." That's what hangs on the bulletin board in my kitchen.

Posted by: Fawn at August 25, 2006 07:14 PM (4MNYN)

15 Well I for one would be thoroughly bummed if you stopped blogging. Especially since I just found your site not to long ago and have gotten hooked on it. There are a lot of self righteous creeps on the internet which I am sure you knew before, but really got a taste of in the past couple of weeks. It's unfortunate. You should have told the one that emailed you today to go to Hell. If he/she doesn't like it, then he/she doesn't have to read it.

Posted by: kimmykins13 at August 25, 2006 07:25 PM (QW8XY)

16 As I am apt to say, "There are many paths to get to the same destination". People just need to chill out and leave other people alone. I don't get why everyone MUST BE RIGHT! Why can they not understand that people make personal choices and just to respect that and leave them alone? I don't get it. Which is probably why I keep most people at arm's length. Who to trust, who not to trust... that is the question. Someone once called me a Mommy blog. I was stunned. Yeah, I have kids, but... damn, I'm so much more than that! I've been told since I'm not. Thankfully. It's cool, Mommy blogs are cool, I just prefer, 'Hi, I have a blog, and btw, I happen to be a Mom.' As for the kid hitting your dog? Gah! Where were her folks?!!!

Posted by: Bou at August 26, 2006 03:24 AM (iHxT3)

17 AMEN!

Posted by: kenju at August 26, 2006 03:42 AM (2+7OT)

18 Honestly, I cannot wait for some chucklehead to tell me that what I am doing is wrong for my kid. By and large, the caveat of "opinions are liks assholes: everyone has one and they most certainly stink", will stand true for me. If I went around asking everyone's opion, how in the hell would I ever make a decision? That and, opinions come from experience. If someone is trashing your decision, it is likely because they had a bad experiene making the same decision. But, as you know me so well, I say fuck em and let them come to my front door to play for a little while.

Posted by: Sir Henry at August 26, 2006 02:22 PM (KcrOI)

19 H- Whatever you decide to do, you will have my support behind you. I may not always agree or disagree, or share the same opinions on things, but I will always respect and support you. You are a dynamic woman. Don't worry about internet psychos...those of us who love you have your back.

Posted by: Dana at August 26, 2006 10:05 PM (uXuyq)

20 The idea of all those comments would be so scary... I like the few comments that I get, because I don't get too many. But to constantly be commented on every aspect of what you're doing with your kid?? Hmm.. anyway, I've still got my fingers crossed for you, and I'm sure you'll do great as a mom. D

Posted by: Hannah at August 28, 2006 02:01 PM (5w+E2)

21 I'm a long-time mom (grown kids) and wouldn't think of putting up anything on my blog about how they were raised... I've seen the bloodshed that can happen on other sites. Wowser. Hang in there, Helen... you're doing just fine.

Posted by: sue at August 28, 2006 03:52 PM (WbfZD)

22 You just outlined a huge reason why I stay away from a lot of those topics on my blog. I have two kids, but try not to go into those issues in life or online. I have a "friend" who will make those sorts of comments to me in person, but I don't dare tell her about how she raises her kid. It's not me to say something like that, besides it would start WW III.

Posted by: Ice Queen at August 28, 2006 04:32 PM (Lyl8J)

23 Those who bitch and try to give the most advice are usuallly the ones with the most fucked-up kids. I have two of my own, and I do as I please; however anyone else wants to raise their kids is their business-but I do have my own personal opinions (that I either keep to myself or share with only my husband). My biggest pet-peeve? Those parents who do not "parent" their kids at all. Doesn't matter if you have kids or not, nothing is more annoying then a kid who runs the household. As far as opinions go, Sir Henry took the words right out of my mouth. It is hard sometimes not to listen to all of it, but it can drive you crazy if you do. The only thing that works for my is trusting myself and most of all keeping a sense of humour. As long as my kids aren't lining the front walk with tiny animal skulls or trying to light the cat on fire, I'm good. Hang in there Helen-I think you are doing fine.

Posted by: Teresa at August 28, 2006 05:29 PM (vuowy)

24 Thanx again for a most insightful posting. As always you touch on and address the human condition. And as you so often do point out the absurdity of so many of those who share the air on our planet. You mention patronizing behavior and questions and statemnts. To tour examples I want to add two of those I hate beyond words. Those spoken to to tell a family who has suffered a miscarriage or the loss of a very very young child (I lost my daighter at 3 weeks of age so I have the credential to comment) that was for the best and the lost could be replaced. What arrogance and insensitivity could top those commenets? To suggest my daugther could ever be repalced like a a defective toaster oven -still upsets me. Parenting. Seems to me those who KNOW the truth should by now have raised enough children to have cured all the worlds ills. However seems to me their kids are among the greatest problems society suffers. From my observations seems the most critical component of childrearing is let the child know they are loved and valued unconditionally. Helen as a parent. In my view she is. Step parenting not easy but rewarding. I have credentials there. You obvious love for Gorby and Angus and his children are symptoms of an excellent parent. Those who disagree are itching for a fight. Ever since Skippy from fareastcynic@blogspot.com directed me to you I have been impressed with your intelligence and passion for life. And your willingness to share the trails and tribulations of life issues common to all of us. I apoligize for the crazies who feel the need ot inflict their warpped values on those whose do not share their psychopathology. Always seemed the craziest and most disturbe individuals where those who denied their own illnesses and problems. HAng in there Helen, I value your posts and find htem helpful in my daily life.

Posted by: Foggy at August 28, 2006 08:58 PM (Ah2V/)

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Some days you wake up in a sweat, the chasing of Kafka just behind you, the sweat scattered across the sheets and the truth that your subconscious knows you so well, well enough to try to rob you of your hope inside of your dreams is a little too much to bear so early in the morning.

The nightmares-a constant and regular part of my life, for all of my life-aside, it occurs to me that I am a believer in things happening for a reason, and I'm someone that subscribes to the idea that little rituals and routines can help make sure that what you want and need won't be jinxed.

I know it's stupid.

I know I'm a grown-up and an engineer no less, but I still subscribe to fate, maybe because the engineer I have become needs the mystery that I have lost.

There are ways things are done for me. When I interview, I wear the same suit-a smart black sheath dress and a black jacket over it. I wear my favorite heels (which will soon need a new pair of heels to replace them, as these are getting up there in age). I wear my hair up, and my makeup minimal. I have learnt that my vintage jewelry with the rainbow gems in them grant me strength and confidence where I would otherwise have none-save for a few pieces I wear, I have now parcelled out my entire collection to those women who I know as strong, but who (like me) could maybe use a booster now and then. It's the jewelry-which I also wore when my project won that big award-that makes me feel like I can clinch something.

I know it's not the jewelry.

I'd rather not jinx things, though.

If I want to go with the flow, not upset the balance, and accept my place in the stack of things I don't raise a fuss. I don't send emotional mails (or I do, but they disappear into the smoky oblivion that is your inbox) and I don't tell you how I am doing, really, past the "I'm ok, thanks." Boats are for riding in, they're not for rocking. I try to let you know what it is I really want (it's just for you to try, that's all I want) without causing a ruckus.

Maybe that's working, too, because now you, my stepmother, and her mother are planning to come out here in September.

And you really need to come. I'm hanging here by my fingernails, man, and loyalty can only go so long. You might not like it here, you might not like how much I've changed and who I've become (you won't believe how much I've changed), you might not like Angus, you might not like Gorby, but the truth is? You don't need to. I'm inviting you into my life, and I'm going to show you life just the way it is.

No more lying.

I'm done with that, and maybe you should be, too.

With the exception of London days, where I write my blog posts in Word as we speed down the rail tracks, my blog posts are written in the same way. I wake up and walk the dog. I check emails from work quickly to see if there's anything I need to deal with urgently (and I check my daily email cartoon I signed up for from Vimrod-they always make me grin). I get a cup of coffee and turn on iTunes, and then I disconnect my brain and just let it go. A good percentage of the time I don't even remember what I've written when I'm done.

Then I log off and go to work.

This morning I woke up alone in bed-Angus had left for an early London meeting, and I shook the bloofy nightmare from my mind. I sat up in our bed and reached behind me to raise the shades. My hair tangled down my back and my head hurt. I sat there and thought about the Kafka dream that woke me up, how it found something I want and took it away from me. I've been terrified for so long.

I can kid myself and say that I'm getting past it all, or that the dreams don't upset me, they're simply dreams. But the truth is, I still wake up scared sometimes. Maybe I always will.

In the meantime, I make my cup of coffee. I walk the dog. I read my daily Vimrod mail. I sit down and pour my brains out and I hope and pray it doesn't jinx me somehow, that in a month's time I don't sit and tell you what a fucking asshole I was for feeling like I could shake the dream off.

-H.

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 06:52 AM | Comments (7) | Add Comment
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Living in the countryside takes some getting used to (and even then, by "countryside" I mean a 20-minute drive to a city or a 45-minute train ride into London). I did live on a farm many years ago, but the memories have faded and melt into a run of dried mud grooves, dark brown calves' eyes, the metallic smell of sweat and the razor-sharp feel of leaves on stalks of corn. These memories are vastly different to what I see and know now.

What I have learned is that there are the good parts of countryside living.

There are, unfortunately, bad parts. The bad often have me muttering, under my breath, That's it-we're moving.

I am constantly receiving gifts from the tag team terror duo known as Gorby and Mumin. Voles, mice, birds, frogs, and once a cute garden snake turned up as presents-truthfully, I have passed out of the role of privilege in Mumin's life and the animals are presented to her best mate Gorby who, thinking of them as toys, treats them as such. I run a 24-hour rescue mission in this house saving the lives of hapless frogs that venture too far from the pond. Mumin has taken to wanting to sleep outside at night which worries me no end, as we also have a large fox population that will throw down and take little Mummy away.

Everytime I find the carcass in the grass I think: That's it. We're moving.

Gorby also, from time to time, finds a fragrant pile of something in the back of the large garden. I'm thinking it's fox or cat related, but regardless of what butt it comes out of, he rolls in it. This, then, results in him getting a bath and then every square surface in the house that he even looked at gets scrubbed down as my germ phobias kick in at super levels.

That's it. We're moving.

Then there are the fruit trees. Whoever lived here either suffered from diabetes or worried about Armageddon, because we have more fruit trees than we can deal with. I want to call Smuckers and say: Seriously, get the fuck out here and take this shit away. Bring your friend Mason. What, you expect me to make jam out of this stuff? Who the fuck do you think I am, Laura Ingalls Wilder? Jesus. There's the massive Bramley apple tree that's dropping apples, and wouldn't you know it, neither of us like Bramley apples. We have two plum trees, one with dark purple plums and the other with orangey-red ones. I was just mowing over the damn things

That's it. We're moving.

until Angus picked one of the dark purple plums off the tree, split it, and popped part of it in my mouth. The sweet, tender, succulent taste ran down the back of my throat, and we picked several more, which we ate with big grins.

We're definitely staying.

We have large fields on two sides of the house, fields of trees and swaying grasses

We're definitely staying.

and my mortal enemy, the stinging nettle. Truckloads of stinging nettles, so many of them that some of the paths in the woods are impenetrable just now, unless of course you like having boil-like marks all over every inch of exposed skin.

That's it. We're moving.

In the spring morning the sound of pigeons, doves and sparrows compete for the daybreak and once the sun is up the welcoming bellow of the cows nearby accompanies the sound of our coffee grinder.

We're definitely staying.

But the birds decided to hold gang turf wars in summer. The cooing of the doves became a vicious chain saw-like action as the Crips and the Bloods took sides. It was a daily 4 am going to the mats. The sweet, Cinderella-like aviaries became the Alfred Hitchcock version of The Birds, and the beautiful wake-up call became the nightmare frenzy smack down that saw me wanting to shoot the coffee grinder out the window at the singing little fuckers, just so I could sleep longer.

That's it. We're moving.

We leave the windows and doors open when we're home, unconcerned that someone other than the postman will cross the threshold. The DHL delivery man and the postman know us, and they always say hi to Gorby. I feel like I'm living in Petticoat Junction.

We're definitely staying.

A week ago Gorby was pawing at something on the back flagstones in the garden. He was barking at it and his tail was wagging. Smiling, I sauntered over to see what our precious little boy was barking at. I bent over to see.

Yeah. It's a maggot.

We're moving we're moving we're moving.

I'll get used to it all at some point.

Except the maggots.

I'm not really ever going to get used to those.

-H.

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 09:47 AM | Comments (7) | Add Comment
Post contains 821 words, total size 5 kb.

1 Stinging nettles are the food for the caterpillars of some butterflies - painted lady, small tortoiseshell, peacock, so please don't get rid of all of them! ;-) And if you want to see more of them in your garden plant a buddleia bush - we have one at the caravan (Abersoch, North Wales), and it's thick with butterflies whenever there's even a hint of sun. Even hummingbird hawk moths :-) which you would definitely recognise if you saw one. In fact you're probably likely to see them more frequently than me as they are commoner in the South than up here. Perhaps you could make chutney instead of jam from the fruit? If you have damsons at all I can highly recommend damson gin too. Slurp! :-) And as for Bramley apples - they make the best apple sauce since they cook down to a mush with sugar... Nice with roast pork or pork chops as the acidity cuts through the fattiness of the pork. On the whole it sounds like you will stay - at least you don't have seagulls with hobnail boots walking over your roof - at least that's what it sounds like when they land on the caravan roof! Thanks for sharing your musings.

Posted by: Maggie Wallace at August 23, 2006 12:03 PM (p96lg)

2 Yeah, I can relate with the icky factor for sure. But now you have another reason to be happy that fall/winter will be coming soon.

Posted by: Minawolf at August 23, 2006 12:46 PM (75szC)

3 Maybe you could open a "pick your own" fruit enterprise in the back yard - after you get those plums for yourself. We have a single apple tree at the lake and I've been trying to figure out how to draw people off the highway (3 miles away) for years just to avoid picking up and disposing of all the apples.

Posted by: cursingmama at August 23, 2006 01:40 PM (PoQfr)

4 oh I dunno. Making Jam is kinda fun if you have a group. And then you get rid of it by giving it away at Christmas. Saves buying presents

Posted by: caltechgirl at August 23, 2006 02:28 PM (/vgMZ)

5 OMG maggots.. I don't think it's possible to get used to maggots.. EW! I'll consider myself lucky then, that I've only had 1 kitty present encounter, a lizzard that I managed to help escape while thanking Colby so much for his consideration. The husband was not so lucky as a couple days later he came home to a dead one on the kitchen floor. Yuck!

Posted by: Erin at August 23, 2006 04:07 PM (zw8QA)

6 Stay. No doubt about it. The tone of your posts has changed since the move to the Blackberries.

Posted by: Foggy at August 23, 2006 04:42 PM (WlHuv)

7 The tradeoff is worth it. Get used to the fresh air, the quiet, the thunderstorms and spectacular lightning shows, the sounds of the crickets and frogs at night, and the lightning bugs. You'll love the lightning bugs. You'll miss those things if you decide to move back to the city. Maggots are disgusting but it's not like you see them all of the time and you can probably reach an accommodation with the spiders. Might as well because you will never get rid of them all.

Posted by: Rob at August 24, 2006 03:34 AM (MoXSh)

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Sometimes it strikes me how much things feel. I'll be sitting somewhere and a sound, a smell, a sight will hit me at a speed of 1,000 freight trains with 1,000 cars. I don't always know what to do with these emotions either-part of the work with my Couch Man is that I have to stop disassociating, I have to stop standing outside and watching the other me-who I am still unable to connect that the person I see struggling in situations is the Real Me-tackle the good, the bad, and the feeling.

Previously, I have been the master of emotion avoidance, as most of the time everything feels like a second degree burn.

It's not just feelings either, it's memories. I'm beginning to remember things that left my attic a long time ago. My therapist told me I don't have a say in what comes up, the memories that pop in are what my subconscious needs me to deal with. It's not always fun and more often that not my memories leave me very confused, but at least they're in color and not in 8mm spinning film, and thank God for that.

Strangely I have started clutching on to things that make me feel, that make me think. Sometimes the feelings are good and sometimes they stick like the thick burnt soup on the bottom of the pan. But feeling something is a start, it's the way to living in the now, and it's one way I'm going to break free of myself.

The other day I saw a man sitting in the doorway of a home in London. He was in a suit and it was clear he wasn't of the vagrant variety, he just had nowhere else to be. He sat in the doorway with a look of such utter quiet and sadness that I knew whatever had led him to sitting in the doorway wasn't a good thing.

And I thought of Kim.

Just like that, I remembered our last breakup, the worst breakup. I had moved into my own appartment in Arlington, Texas. It was late at night the first night and I was hideously sad. A soft sound came and I looked up to see an envelope slipped under the front door. I rushed to the door and opened it, but there was no one there on the doorstep. I sat down and leaned against the door, opening the envelope-it was a letter of goodbye from Kim.

I sat against the door for most of the night, feeling like it was the closest I could ever get to him again.

Seeing the man there in the doorstep, the memory hit me and all I could feel was my stomach swelling and trying to meet my ribcage, as I felt the door behind my back and a complete and utter sense of loneliness the likes of which I had never felt before. And me? I'm a Loner Chick, loneliness is something I do well.

My new soundtrack from The Last Kiss arrived on Saturday. There's a new Joshua Radin song on there called "Paperweight", and I heard it for the first time on my iPod yesterday, having simply downloaded it onto my iPod without being able to listen to it. When it came into my ears my heart lightened and I felt this sudden rush of ease. I walked through sycamore-lined streets reflecting on everything that was happening in my life and I felt so fucking buoyant I needed to be tied down in order to function. The darkness is far from gone, the stress still weighs heavily on my heart and fear shows up in every tiny mark on my face but for a moment I felt like I was floating, searching, free.

I saw an original 1940's Chagall print online in an auction, a print I had never seen before. I love Chagall, I love that his pictures are so complicated that everytime you look at one you see something you missed the time before. I love that things both do and don't make sense in his pictures, and as I know absolutely nothing about art (in fact I find art to be exhausting and overwhelming), I go for what affects me.

I saw this picture and knew I had to have it-there was something in it that made me feel like I was breathing again, like the very act of taking air in and expelling it all over again was something that was a part of me, was something I could do.

It wasn't cheap, but I won it in the end.

It arrived today, and since it has, I am conscious of the fact that I do, indeed, breathe.

Here is a scan of it:

Unwrapping the print this morning, I remembered another painting from a long time ago. Back in university I had a large print of Klimt's The Kiss (a requisite college print if there ever was one). It was framed and sat on the fireplace in the bedroom Kim and I had, and although he never liked it, I used to stare at it and think it was us-him with his dark hair, me with my red hair. One night after a particularly bad fight, something inside of me kind of broke. I stood up, walked to the painting, and standing in front of it and staring, I reached out with my fingertips and pulled the frame off the fireplace. I didn't move when the picture started coming down. The frame went to the side of me and shattered, vicious glass like raindrops on the bedroom floor. I turned and looked at Kim, who wordlessly stared back at me from the bed.

I walked out of the bedroom, trodding on broken glass but never getting cut.

It came to me that perhaps that's why some types of art still make me feel like I am walking on broken glass, and as I realize it, I feel happy for being able to make the connection.

Feelings are sinking in, creeping up. A portion of these feel horrible-the guilt of my mother wondering aloud Why does no one want to love you girls? I don't know, Mom, but the truth is maybe it isn't about us. The disgust I have at never being enough, never being right, never being ok-that disgust is nothing new but the foundations of it are, my blinders are coming off now.

But then some of the emotions have such light and joy I can't believe I didn't let myself feel them-my feet on the dashboard and sunglasses on my face as Angus is driving us somewhere, somewhere not here, and when he looks at me his eyes have that sparkle in them that you can see from a mile away and which means My God I am so in love with you. The indescribable feeling I have when I stand in my kitchen, my man singing as he cooks, the dog charging around the kitchen with his toys.

It doesn't always have to feel like broken glass-sometimes, it can feel like cashmere.

Everything is slowly but surely hitting home, and the more I find things that make me feel, the more I make myself continuously confront them, and I surround myself with things that prove to me I am human, and that I am real.

-H.

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 10:20 AM | Comments (6) | Add Comment
Post contains 1235 words, total size 7 kb.

Oh fuck.

These are the first words I think as I turn on my laptop and find that things are not working according to plan.

Sitting next to my laptop is the memory I had to order for the creaking, 5 year-old much abused laptop I carry around. I'd order a new one, but my success with laptops is not good, and this one is robust enough to stand me. So I order more memory just to keep the damn thing alive but frankly, I hate it.

But things aren't looking very healthy in laptop land just now.

So I wearily realize that I have to do the one thing in the world I dread the most. I dread this more than I dread paying taxes. I dread this more than that womanly yearly exam, with the heels pointing to God and a doctor in my snatch who always (bizarrely) wants to talk about the weather. I dread this more than I dread ironing, and nothing is as off-putting as ironing.

I called the Help Desk.

Help Desks, I am sure, have their purposes. In some far away lands where princes slay shiny red dragons and orgasms are sold in the penny candy shop, there exist Help Desks that really are helpful. Somewhere, Help Desks exist, and not just in my imagination, like Comfortable Tampons and Jake Gyllenhaal at My Beck and Call-all real things, all documented options.

And I am ashamed to admit it, but often I lose my patience with our Help Desk.

My call today went something like this:

Help Desk: Hello Help Desk, please confirm your name and employee number.
Me: I'm Helen Adelaide, number Alpha-Delta-Tango-Bravo-6-6-7-3-Charlie (that's not really it, but sounds cooler than my real employee number).
Help Desk: Thank you Helen, what seems to be the problem?
Me: My VPN client isn't working.
Help Desk: What's the problem?
Me: I get "Host Not Responding".
Help Desk: OK, first you will need to reset your password-
Me: Actually, I don't need to reset my password but I somehow knew you'd tell me that, so I reset it anyway.
Help Desk: You will need to re-start your computer.

(This is the Help Desk equivalent of telling an infertile woman to "just relax". It's pointless, patronizing, and NEVER EVER solves the problem).

Me: I anticipated you'd say that, and I did it already.
Help Desk: I'd like you to do it again while I am on the line.
Me: Why, did I fail "Microsoft Windows Re-Boot 101"? I already did it. Trust me.
Help Desk: How do I know you re-started the PC correctly?

I am floored.

Me: Well, I went to "Start", chose "Re-start computer", and the screen went black. Then it came up again, and boom! I logged back in! In between, I went and got an apple and a bowl of soup, so while it's possible it started the modern Matthew Broderick-less version of War Games, that doesn't appear to have happened because no one is asking me if I would like to play a game.

He takes that as a sign to move on.

Help Desk: I will need the login information to your router.
Me: I'm not going to give you that information.
Help Desk: But it could be your router.
Me: No, it can't. The router is currently powering 3 other networks and 2 other phones in our home and they have no problem whatsoever. This is not a router problem.
Help Desk: Could I put you on hold?

(I have no hold music, that makes me feel weird. He comes back.)

Help Desk: Could be your dial-up.
Me: I'm on broadband.
Help Desk: Your broadband is too slow.
Me: I'm on 8 Mb of broadband. I think that qualifies as "ass kicking broadband".

(At this point, I am put on hold for review.)

Help Desk: I will need you to do option A (a step in the VPN process).
Me: I've done that already. I've done it 20 times.
Help Desk: Can you do it once more while I am on the line? I need to be sure you've done it correctly.

(I do Option A every day, and have done for 2 and a half years. I'm pretty sure I have this down, but simply sigh and do it anyway. Unsurprisingly, it fails.)

Help Desk: Can you change this option A to option B, and try it again?
Me: I've also tried that three times.
Help Desk: (see if you can see this one coming)- Can you do it once more while I am on the line?

(I sigh and do it. It fails.)

Help Desk: Can I put you on hold?

(He goes. I surf the web. He comes back.)

Help Desk: Can you go back to option A and try it again?
Me: We've done that. I have now done that 21 times. TWENTY-ONE. That's not even like, 1, or 2, or 3. No, that's TWENY-ONE. Are you guessing at the problem now? Can we be more constructive? I mean, I don't know what the problem is either, but I do know that going for the golden 2-2 in trying something does not a problem solve!
Help Desk: Can I put you on hold again?
Me: Could I stop you if I wanted to?

(He goes. I surf more, eat some soup, play with the dog, and nearly finish War and Peace. He comes back.)

Help Desk: I'm afraid I have to raise a fault ticket.

(Muppets could have deducted this step already.)

Me: OK.
Help Desk: But maybe you can just try option A once more we-
Me: TWENTY-ONE TIMES. GOT IT? TWENTY-ONE. Look-this is going no where. I am losing my patience, and I respect you for trying and for being kind, but I will handle this myself.

I ring off and stare at the phone, at which point I march upstairs and scream my frustration at Angus who, upon realizing the levels of hormones flowing through my body, kindly offers to install the new memory and see if he can deal with the Help Desk for me.

In the meantime I have my Blackberry to do work.

I love my Blackberry.

There's no Help Desk involved there.

-H.

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 01:27 PM | Comments (18) | Add Comment
Post contains 1048 words, total size 6 kb.

1 Although I agree making you go through the steps numerous times is annoying, I've worked Help Desk before and you would be surprised the number of times the other person on the end will not be truthful when it comes to what they have or haven't done. Yes, we will have those users who are extremely knowledgeable, but more times than not we'll have someone who's only knowledge of the computer was the training they received when they took the job. They don't know anything beyond the fact clicking the mouse makes things happen.

Posted by: Michael at August 21, 2006 01:47 PM (HII4m)

2 Michael-you have a point. I know I come across as unfair, and I know there are set steps that Help Desks go through, but I swear to God, our work Help Desk is the worst one ever.

Posted by: Helen at August 21, 2006 01:56 PM (9iM6u)

3 i think this is the single most valuable benefit of getting my degree in computer science - i never, ever call the help desk unless it's something i just don't have access/permission to change. of course, the degree also has it's drawbacks, as i have become the family help desk. i'm not sure which is more frustrating - dealing with an incompetent help desk, or dealing with an incomptent family member with a broken computer.

Posted by: geeky at August 21, 2006 02:20 PM (ziVl9)

4 Since you did a hardware upgrade, this information should be passed along to the help desk. Did you also check all other programs on your machine. Were they working?? Did you look at the error logs that nobody ever looks at. Yes, help desks work from scripts. Most problems are very similar and help desks have scripts that are generated passed on last experience. Help desks keep data bases to use on answering questions. These are generated from past problems. They also have several tiers of problems. You need to know how they categorize the problems. In other words, if the chairperson of the company has a problem, I bet it gets a different priority than your problem. You need to know how to ask to make this a high priority problem. Help desks also get graded on how long a problem is open. Don't let them give you a new problem ticket numbers. Make them keep the original ticket open. Have been in charge of help desks, my sympathy lies with the help desk. From my experience, one third of the problem tickets are people who forget their passwords. A really difficult problem occurs rarely. The first person answering the phone at the help desk does not know if you are an inexperienced user or a genius. They first assume you are a novice and go on from there. In summary, know how problems are rated, know how priorities are set, and be kind.

Posted by: iowaslovak at August 21, 2006 03:54 PM (vBa9j)

5 The chairpeople in my company have their own helpdesk. And the hardward upgrade wasn't done until after the ticket was issued (as I said in my post). You're on a thin wedge, Iowa. More often than not you are patronizing as all get out.

Posted by: Helen at August 21, 2006 03:58 PM (eDX2D)

6 I've actually had pretty good luck with help desks..but, then again, I like you only call after I've tried every thing in the world and still no glory.. if nothing else, having them check you through the try this, then try that process reassures me I've done the necessary basic things and I'm not a complete moron..and the problem is more complex and needs something more in depth done...but i've been there too with the guys who make you think "how the HELL did you get this job!" BTW.. could you give me the address of that penny candy shop LOL

Posted by: JaxVenus at August 21, 2006 04:18 PM (riKsm)

7 All I can say is come and work in government setting sometime. Clearly they're using help in a context I'm unfamiliar with. I could tell stories... Ironically, I've become the office guru when it comes to troubleshooting the office PC's. It's ironic because I'm a Mac user who's never owned a PC in his life!

Posted by: ~Easy at August 21, 2006 05:03 PM (PwFnd)

8 Okay, it's Monday morning and I've a heap of stuff to do, but as a helpdesk supervisor, I've got to comment on this one. First off, my condolences on your helpdesk. It sounds as though they're not very technical and are just running through a script they have to use to solve a couple of the simplest scenarios for each problem. Secondly, Iowa has a point in that you have to keep trouble tickets alive in order to get the best level of service (assuming your helpdesk is really trying and isn't just an afterthought to your IT organization). Thirdly, if you know your helpdesk is less that totally able, have the steps you've taken already handy, give it to them at the beginning of the call, and if they don't suggest anything new, ask to escalate to a supervisor or to level 2 support. Fourth(ly?) it surprises me to this day how a reboot (or two) will sort a problem out, so don't knock the reboot as a helpdesk tool. Have a PC gremlin free week, everyone

Posted by: Barnaby at August 21, 2006 05:46 PM (mTNES)

9 I gotta agree with Helen on this one. When I have problems, it's not something a reboot will solve, because (while I don't have a computer degree) I am FULLY CAPABLE of restarting the darn machine, all on my little old lonesome. So I usually say 'I'm having this problem, and I restarted and I repaired my connection, and it's still here." And then I very patiently wait while they have me restart, and repair my connections... I wish I were brave enough to talk back, but I always just roll my eyes and jump through their hoops anyway. The only way to get things done is to take my laptop to campus and straight to the people at the desk. If it's an option, I avoid the phone thing at all costs.

Posted by: a duck at August 21, 2006 05:59 PM (mdrh/)

10 Helen, I wouldn't say you are coming off as unfair. A good help desk person can tell the level of expertise of the peron on the other end of the phone and will recognize when to not keep asking to repeat steps that were done. Help Desk positions are often the entry level jobs for IT people into a company. I'm not going to knock them, but they do work from scripts. Why? Because a large global organization can have hundreds of customized applications. And let's be truthful, for many development groups, support documentation is usually the last thing thought of. I know when I was on Help Desk, the last thing I wanted was to shuffle the person off to another queue. Luckily, since I was supporting my department's applications, I could access a test environment and be able to debug the application. But enough about Help Desks, what's your favorite cheese? I've recently picked up a liking for American Cheese with Horseradish flavoring.

Posted by: Michael at August 21, 2006 06:41 PM (HII4m)

11 Michael is absolutely right. A GOOD helpdesk person can quickly gauge the level of the caller and will go off script and ask what has already been done. Unfortunately those people are few and far between, as most help-deskers are just warm bodies with a binder full of flow-charts and a script. Our helpdesk is about as screwy as yours and they damn near refuse to help you unless you goose-step along behind them..

Posted by: caltechgirl at August 21, 2006 06:52 PM (/vgMZ)

12 I would be happy if our helpdesk people were trained in correctly routing problems. My team maintains one little web-based system, and half the tickets they route to us should go elsewhere. It just delays the whole thing. Oh, and they deleted a userid that was being used to authenticate some automated ftp transfers. Three weeks later and they still haven't organised a new one. So our database tables just have to remain out of date!

Posted by: mrDan at August 21, 2006 07:12 PM (lrmex)

13 I loathe the Help Desk. They're so fucking patronizing and yet, don't really know anymore than I do most of the time. I have ripped many a Help Desk employee a new asshole. My favorite was the time I called b/c my employee card wasn't working to perform overrides or anything. I explained the problem and he said, "Are you sure they didn't fire you and just not tell you?" I said, "Was that supposed to be funny, asshole?" and THEN, he has the nerve to tell me that my "language" is unnecessary. I told him I was done speaking with him and wanted his supervisor. It's amazing just how fast I got service after that.

Posted by: girl at August 21, 2006 09:11 PM (ZIi+3)

14 Honestly, I've been on both ends. One where the help desk person was a moron and one where I was walking through something with someone and had them claim to have done something and not done it. It's not always easy to ascertain someone's level right away. Sometimes you need to put up with the stupid shit (as the caller) before the help desk person realizes you're competent enough. At least, that's my experience.

Posted by: Minawolf at August 22, 2006 12:50 PM (cH5GO)

15 I can so feel your pain...

Posted by: sue at August 22, 2006 02:32 PM (WbfZD)

16 I so feel your pain ... My laptop met some diet coke yesterday ... I am dreading calling Dell's support to see about sending it in (even though I know it's going to cost me an arm and a leg to fix it) just because their solution to EVERYTHING is to restart the computer. I hope your laptop recovers soon. I'm making mine a headstone out back. *sniffle*

Posted by: Michele at August 22, 2006 04:28 PM (5VGFA)

17 Trust me on this, we don't ask you to do these things because we are trying to get you off the phone or don't want to help. There are just things you need to do to get a clean slate and make sure. I have spent time on the phone from the lowliest of admin assistants to the CEO of a major chemical corporation. I always make them reboot. I always make them go through the steps. I don't care how knowledgeable you sound, you might just be full of shit and be wasting my time. I came across that more than people who actually do know what they are doing ("Click the start button.." "Start button, where?") It is easiest just to go with the flow, and if they start asking to do things over and over again, Then yeah, they're incompetant morons. Also, the best way to get someone to stop being a moron is ask for their supervisor. There is no excuse for having someone try a process 3 or 4 times when it doesn't work. Generally, you'll end up getting transferred to someone who has a brain. But I promise you, Helen (with that awesome Texas/English accent you have), most techs aren't doing it because they're stupid or they want to upset you. It's just part of a process.

Posted by: Dani at August 22, 2006 07:09 PM (jVN7+)

18 Helen, Hi ME Also he/she might want you to do it so they can watch what happens.. And it might be policy.. Also remember they can't SEE what you do. As someone who does help desk on systems I don't have the security clearance to look at.. they are probably as unhappy as you... (though I don't get timed on calls which can if support from bloody india gets involved can be 4+ hours)... Hope you like it Meouch

Posted by: LarryConley at August 22, 2006 08:03 PM (xQ1mW)

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So I know it's August 18, and it's still bright and sunny, mostly warm-ish, all that jazz.

But....um...am I the only one looking forward to the Fall and Winter?

Seriously. I know I should appreciate what I have right now, and I have indeed enjoyed the heat wave that I'll remember as Summer 2006 (aka, Oh My God, It's So Fucking Hot). The garden is now the pale yellow burnt color of a Krispy Kreme, we're still officially in a drought and I'm pretty sure a tumbleweed went through the front yard yesterday, but changes are coming. We've had to wear sweatshirts in the early morning and evening now. The fan hasn't been used in the house for a long time, and we don't need all the windows open to air out the house anymore. Trees are beginning to drop yellow leaves, whether from the coming change or the burnt air, I'm not sure.

I've reached a point with the garden where I look around at what has survived the drought and am mentally going through my own triage-You, Dahlia darling, you're making the cut, you'll be brought into the greenhouse in a few weeks. You, nasturtium seedlets? You didn't make it. Sorry, mates.

Angus' kids-visiting right now and heading home to Sweden tomorrow-go back to school next week. We spent yesterday school shopping and the sight of all those sharpened number 2 pencils, bright pencil cases and notebooks aching to be written in brought it all back. I remember the massive lists we used to get each year of things that parents would have to buy us-ruled paper, notebooks, an L-shaped ruler, Kleenex-and I remembered that back-to-school feeling.

It all smells fabulously like unused pencil erasers.

I can't wait to have our week in northern Scotland in October-we have part of our stay in a Scottish whiskey distillery and nothing says Autumn like oaked casks, roaring fires, and a glass of whiskey (which should be served neat, in my world. I don't dick around with cutting whiskey with ice or water). Scotland will be ablaze with color, the Highlands looking like they're on fire, the smell of coal and wood fires making the nose twitch. Scotland will feel like Fall.

A month ago I ordered Christmas ornaments that I plan on using this Christmas. We'll be hosting the family Christmas party, which means Angus' mum and stepdad, Angus' two brothers and their families, and one of his sister-in-law's brother and girlfriend. It will be a packed house, filled with 10 adults, 5 kids (including Angus', it's his year to have them for Christmas), and 2 dogs. People bring all their gifts for a massive opening session on the 25th. We eat too much and then they will all be staying over (as that's what you do) and there will be people in every available nook and cranny of the house. Angus and I will cook every meal, and it will be traditional English fare (but so help me God, we are not serving goose this year. Too much fucking work). My family's tradition of Christmas Eve lasagne will be upheld, and stockings will indeed be hung by the chimney with care.

I like to think about where the tree is going to go in our house. I like to dream about the smell of it drifting through the upstairs, and the idea of keeping the dog and Mumin from robbing the tree of its ornaments makes me laugh. A holly wreath will go on the front door, and Christmas cards will be strung up in the kitchen. We'll have mulled wine and gingerbread.

It's not even just Christmas that has me excited. Drifting leaves piling up make me grin. The idea of walking through the London street to my therapist, my cheeks red and my nose running, appeals. Eating soup by a roaring fire (note to self: get chimney sweep round to take care of the fireplaces in living room and study. So far, they've been hosting birds' nests and now the coast is clear). Decorating for Halloween, the pumpkins grinning merrily from our front porch and the pumpkin seeds roasting in the oven. We'll have Thanksgiving here, as we have done for years, and when we invite people round the hallway will be littered with boots and the recycling littered with bottles.

I'm looking forward to it all. I have been worried-there have been reasons why I possibly would not have been so excited. This Fall could have seemed like that longest one in history. Those reasons, so far, are being put aside as I just look forward to everything. Fall and Winter have historically been times that toy with depression, but this year? Everything is a different color and inside I just can't wait.

And maybe that's what is so unusual for me on this-I am looking forward to things. I suppose I've always just bounced along, heading to where I needed to be, getting stopped by a location or distracted by something shiny.

Maybe it's the fact that we have this house that I love so much. Maybe it's that I feel calmer, more anchored. Maybe it's that I do have things to look forward to.

I wonder if I'm alone in looking forward to the Fall.

-H.

PS-The work situation? It worked itself out. I sent over proof that I was innocent of the mistakes I'd been accused of. I got myself an apology, which honestly? Yeah, it made my fucking day.

PPS-I'm feeling nostalgic. I bought myself a penguin Weeble Wobble because it makes me laugh, and because the Weeble Wobble song (Weebles wobble but they don't fall down) is an epithet to me that life just is this way-things may suck, but nothing can knock us down. He sits on my desk as a reminder.

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 08:36 AM | Comments (20) | Add Comment
Post contains 982 words, total size 6 kb.

1 Your holiday plans sound fantastic. I miss the days of a house full of family and the scents of wreaths, candles, and roasting dinner. I'm itching for fall/winter, too. I still have a couple months of sweltering, humid weather to go...

Posted by: selzach at August 18, 2006 12:05 PM (DquGr)

2 I want to buy bunches of school supplies, notebooks and and pencils and folders, just reading your post. And I want to buy sweaters. Maybe if I do, It'll bring on the first frost. I LOVE AUTUMN!!!

Posted by: Teri at August 18, 2006 12:25 PM (K7jOL)

3 i look forward to fall every year. i love the warm weather in the summer, but that time between back to school and christmas is my favorite time of the year. i'm looking forward to it even more this year because my wedding is on the first day of fall, so it can only get better from there

Posted by: geeky at August 18, 2006 12:41 PM (ziVl9)

4 Definitely looking forward to the fall. This summer has been horrid.

Posted by: Minawolf at August 18, 2006 12:43 PM (75szC)

5 I would say I'm looking forward to fall, but honestly? We don't have fall. We go straight from summer into a few weeks of winter and then back into summer. You know how it is 'round here. I'm glad you are looking forward to so much. It's been a long time coming.

Posted by: amy t. at August 18, 2006 02:52 PM (zPssd)

6 Last year was the first year that I actually looked really forward to Fall and Winter. I vowed I would enjoy every fucking minute of it-and I did. Yours sounds like it will be fabulous-nothing is better than spending it with the people you love in a home that is your own. And when the hubby and I were house shopping years ago, the first thing on my list of "must-haves" was a good spot for a Christmas tree. That is how I know if it is a good house, by how well it will showcase a tree. Can't wait to see yours.

Posted by: Teresa at August 18, 2006 03:23 PM (f+o6m)

7 I'm going to be singing that all day (weebles wobble but they don't fall down)! I'm looking forward to the fall. I love sweaters and scarves, and soups and fires (the kind in the fireplace).

Posted by: Erin at August 18, 2006 03:43 PM (zw8QA)

8 Like Amy said, we don't get Fall. I'm looking forward to cooler temps, but it probably won't be cool enough to actually wear long sleeves until at least November, but more likely, December. I'm itching to buy new long-sleeved shirts too.

Posted by: girl at August 18, 2006 04:23 PM (ZIi+3)

9 I love fall... but after the harvest WORK! Then, I'll take all the fall I can get and on into winter...

Posted by: sue at August 18, 2006 05:43 PM (WbfZD)

10 it's been chilly here, too. I was about to ask if we should put a blanket on the bed, but so far it's not necessary. I love fall. The leaves falling, and the chilly air, and my birthday, and then Christmas. What a great season. Even if I will be 30 this year.

Posted by: caltechgirl at August 18, 2006 06:50 PM (/vgMZ)

11 Christmas???!!! There is a firm rule here that no mention is to be made of Christmas until AFTER Thanksgiving. And anyway, it's not fall until the World Series begins.

Posted by: ~Easy at August 18, 2006 08:38 PM (GIl28)

12 You are most certainly NOT alone in looking forward to fall. I always look forward to the changing of seasons (three months is long enough for one season for me), and fall happens to be my favorite. The crisp, cool air; leaves changing color; shortening of the days; having to throw a jacket in my car in case I need it; all those things I look forward to. Also, my birthday is in October. Not that I look forward to getting a year older, but I think the timing of my birthday has something to do with why I like the fall. BTW listened to your interview. Love your English/American accent. No, I'm not making fun of it. Seriously.

Posted by: diamond dave at August 18, 2006 09:01 PM (Qzy2g)

13 ... and college football... but hey, say 'hello' to Scotland for me... she and I were really close once....

Posted by: Eric at August 18, 2006 09:43 PM (r5XsL)

14 Fall? I had not wished for it at all until I walked my dog on our gravel drive this afternoon. I noticed a few stressed maples turning early which made me long for a seasonal change. My children are already in school and it seems as though they should wear turtlenecks and woolens like I used to. But instead, it is warm enough to dress in camis & flip flops. It is all just strange to me. Depressing? Not really, just different, I suppose.

Posted by: Marie at August 19, 2006 01:09 AM (DaNL4)

15 You may be on to something. Maybe depression is just the state of having nothing to look forward to. And getting out of it means you can look ahead and see good things coming your way. Oh, wow, I wish I had the kind of weather you're looking forward to. (For the forseeable future, I'm a California girl again. Job good, proximity to family good, but I miss Denver weather.)

Posted by: B. Durbin at August 19, 2006 04:25 AM (tie24)

16 How could I forget about the sweaters and the boots? Good call. Fall is comfy clothes and thick blankets on the couch.

Posted by: Helen at August 19, 2006 10:03 AM (jmgwY)

17 I moved from Denver to Orlando. I haven't seen or touched fall or winter in three years and I am longing, greatly, to play in crunchy, colorful leaves and to make snow angels. I love your penguin and what he represents to you. I think little reminders like that are what keep us trodding along, even when we're up to our knees.

Posted by: Dana at August 19, 2006 03:49 PM (uXuyq)

18 When you live in my part of the world, Fall is a salvation. Months of impossibly dry heat ebb into a bright blue sky and tilt of the sun that lets you know that the worst has finally passed... especially this year. It's unreasonably hot and my daydreams are focused on a corn dog at the state fair and painting my face for a Longhorn game. Ok - I'm too old for the burnt orange horns, but my kids can't yet outrun me... I've been reading you for quite sometime and I love how graciously you handled the brewhaha last week... write on...

Posted by: :Krista at August 19, 2006 09:43 PM (2fc3W)

19 Fall ? Sorry like my tan (read that sun) too much

Posted by: Mike at August 20, 2006 12:09 PM (2oVHZ)

20 I love the Weeble and he will be a good reminder for you. I think you are looking forward to the fall and the holidays because you have a new home and family traditions to establish now.

Posted by: kenju at August 21, 2006 03:23 AM (2+7OT)

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When I was a little girl I used to read those "Choose Your Own Adventure" books from time to time. Do you remember those? You started a story off-invariably some kind of action book about pirates/haunted houses/alien invasions with a plot involving danger (on the high seas/in the conservatory/with alien number 9)-and you'd get to a page where you'd have to make a choice-do you jump off this ship (in which case plesae turn to page 2 or do you stand and face Long John Silver (then please turn to page 5)? I read a few of those, but I'd read them in a strange way-as opposed to trying to get to the longest and most satisfactory ending, I'd read through all of the endings just to know what the endings looked like.

I suppose it's all a bit like a Choose Your Own Adventure. When we went away to Wales, I very much felt like I was locked inside the pirate's room, readying for interrogation (page 9). I didn't have my sea legs yet and couldn't work out how to walk from the end of the room without falling down. When I finally twigged how to jaunt like an old Sea Dog and pick the lock, I didn't know if I should turn right ouf of the captain's room (page 62) or left (page 51).

My Choose Your Own Adventure did have some predictable plot lines. I got stabbed in the back in my absence at the office, but I have come to expect this and so it wasn't really a surprise (continue on to next page). My managers have delved in to micro-management mode, but this too is not unexpected (turn to page 19). On the long drive home yesterday, I saw in my Blackberry that the working world had exploded, that I would have to dig out evidence that I do not deserve the scouring (which I have), but I couldn't face it and allowed myself the rest of the day's holiday without stressing out. Stressing out can be for today (page 31). Only, honestly? I'm not really going to stress out about work anymore (page 22). That's the thing with Choose Your Own Adventure-you can choose the route you want. My adventure doesn't include that anymore.

My inbox looks like someone chucked War and Peace in there and ran, the house needs tidying, and the breathing down my neck is wrinkling my collar. I'm concerned about Maggie and the dog needs a bath. I have errands to run, a hotly worded email that's pinging around my head and I feel very, very tired. Above all, there are two blond stepkids dancing around the house, and we have a puzzle to finish together.

I guess in those days of Choose Your Own Adventure I never realized that the best end goal maybe wasn't always the most celebratory-it wasn't about defeating the pirates and carrying away the treasure a la Goonies (albeit without the chap dropped on his head too many times). To me, working out how to get to that storyline was the key-how do I get the maximum result for the sweat on my adventure?

Standing staring out over the sea on Tuesday, my legs in the water and my eyes looking out across the sea, I realized that while the adventures have changed, they can not only have a simpler ending, but be far more fulfilling than I'd ever known.

-H.

PS-comments are back open, and hopefully, they can stay that way.

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 05:31 AM | Comments (10) | Add Comment
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1 Welcome back, love. Hope you had a splendid holiday.

Posted by: April at August 17, 2006 06:41 AM (PFXpB)

2 Welcome back, Helen. After looking at some stats this morning, I would think much of that inbox clutter is support.

Posted by: Rob at August 17, 2006 10:50 AM (MoXSh)

3 I'm on my way back to work myself. The adventure continues! I listened to the interview. *sigh* I shouldn't have listened to that after my shower. Suddenly I feel dirty again. As with most right-wing shows, I couldn't help but notice that there was almost 2 minutes of intro time, and when he finally did get around to "talking" to you he barely let you get a word in edgewise. I was amused to hear the british accent pop in and out. Interestingly, I didn't hear any Texas there.

Posted by: ~Easy at August 17, 2006 12:57 PM (GIl28)

4 Im so glad you're back!

Posted by: That Girl at August 17, 2006 01:47 PM (oT4a3)

5 Welcome back. Glad your priorities (blond kinds and puzzles) are right. Wish I had heard the interview. Where and when. Can it be accessed?

Posted by: Foggy at August 17, 2006 01:50 PM (WlHuv)

6 Welcome back! I, too, listened to the interview and got the same insight as Easy. 'nuf said. You are learning to live life on YOUR terms, not everyone elses'. Good for you.

Posted by: sue at August 17, 2006 03:21 PM (WbfZD)

7 Hey girl, welcome back! I know I don't comment much, but I'm here every morning with ya. So speaking of adventures. I just got married and our honeymoon is the end of next month. We are coming to London for 4 days and then a 9 day tour in Italy. aaah. I was wondering if I could get the scoop from a local. Any suggestions on good food/beer/wine/shows?? etc.? We are looking at hotels near Hyde Park, so we can be kinda central to everything. Thanks much in advance!! p.s. I loved your response in the interview - "and I thought I was here to talk about travel." - ha ha, he didn't ruffle you for a minute. friggin' awesome! laters, C

Posted by: Christina at August 17, 2006 04:00 PM (axrWz)

8 welcome back to real life, huh? Glad you had a nice break, though.

Posted by: caltechgirl at August 17, 2006 05:43 PM (/vgMZ)

9 Welcome back! I loved those books when I was little. I would go through and finish whatever adventure I had chosen ... and then when I was finished I'd go back and choose a completely different one. I was always getting in trouble with the school for keeping books for too long. Like Easy, the interview frustrated me. He kept talking in circles and out of his backside. I did notice the accent popping through every once in a while. Now I do see how some Americans don't really identify you as being an American when you first speak. It's a combination of American, Swedish, and English ... ^_^ I hope that Maggie is ok! Keep your feet in the sea and your hands busy with that puzzle. Work will sort itself out in the end - stress or not.

Posted by: Michele at August 17, 2006 10:16 PM (5VGFA)

10 hey SugarTits! what are you staring at? hehe...sorry, my Mel G. accent is a bit off. like everybody else said "Welcome Back" glad to have the comments back too... so I can practice my impersenations. I like this particular one. I am showing it off to everyone.

Posted by: J.m at August 18, 2006 03:56 AM (k3v0Q)

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The interview Friday night is done.

Rob at CrabApple Lane has been kind enough to have a link to it.

You can listen to it here (right click, save as, yes?).

You're a star, Rob. Thanks.

See you Thursday, at which point the normalcy will be back in place on this blog.

Oh yes. It will.

-H.

PS-Yeah, he had my website address wrong.

PPS-Yeah, I do sound like a bizarre mix of English and American.

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 04:49 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Right.

Jesus Fuck I hope that's all over now.

The post I wrote yesterday morning, before any real details were known about the terror plot, was the first "political" post I've allowed on this site, mostly because I honestly feel politics are best aired on a one-to-one basis, not on the internet. With a link from Michelle Malkin yesterday, my day was complete. Michelle-allegedly a journalist, according to her bio-posted a nice little paragraph about me being a "moonbat" (which is not in my Oxford Dictionary of English, but there you have it) and the gist of it, really, seemed to imply that I'm busy single-handedly arming terrorists in my study over here/dancing among the daisies while grown-ups try to solve a Big Bad Problem. She's also the second highest ranked blog of all the hundreds of millions of blogs so her little nasty link to me (and as to the "Hap-tip reader Susan"? Yeah, Susan? I hope we never meet, babe. You could have emailed me directly, but you didn't. Coward.) sent my blog into overdrive, at several points receiving something like 8,000 hits an hour.

Fox News America contacted me, requesting an interview. When I asked if it was a witch hunt and what the context was and told them I wasn't interested in the partaking of a grill fest they disappeared, and a little research showed that the news program they wanted me on was one in which I do suspect I would've been set-up as the hippy trippy beatnik.

The link also got me lots of hate mail. All comments on all posts had to be closed. My inbox saw a steady stream of emails-most of them offensive. I was staggered by some of the emails-it's one thing to disagree with me, which hey-this is free speech. Disagree with me, that's ok. It's another thing entirely to assault someone. In one mail my dog got attacked (you feel really good about yourself, mate? Attacking a 9 month-old rescue puppy? Is that how tough you are, you pick on a puppy? Jesus Christ.) On a website my right to reproduce got charged-apparently because I have an opinion, I'm going to be an unfit mother and do I really "deserve" to be allowed to be a mother?

But it didn't stop there. The worst of the emails was the one in which the guy threatened to kill me. I post about how I ask why the airports weren't already prepared and I get a death threat. I didn't keep the email, mostly because emails where people intone about slitting my throat aren't ones I want to print out, frame, and exclaim over.

And here I'd thought the "You've Made It In Blogging!" prize was given after the first troll (which I had many years ago actually). The truth is, it's after the first person who threatens to top you.

It's as Mac said-truly someone is able to have a hate site.

Vilifying blog posts cropped up. But I don't understand it, really-most of the nasty ones (I won't link to them here, but if you do a technorati search then believe me-you'll find them. Hope you don't mind MySpace, either there are several of those) are word for word copies of Michelle's post. Now if I write a post and someone likes it enough to write about it, no problem. If they copy bits of it to support their own post, I don't mind. If they copied it all word for word and then expected comments? Weird...and plagiaristic. And what's perhaps even stranger is that hardly anyone comments on not only those blog posts, but on those blogs as a whole.

So I presume no one's reading them.

But then the tide turned-support started coming in. Some of Michelle's readers even emailed me (the more literate ones, not like Howard from Tennessee, who had about the worst grammar in an email I've seen in a long time in the email where he said that people would have to "scrape my stupid ass off a sidewalk") and said they actually supported me. And for every nasty blog post that blogland threw up about me, a supportive one came up.

Angus asked me: Do you want to enable comments again now?

I replied: The slitting the throat thing? Kinda put me off it for now.

Anyway, I just wanted to air my opinion. If you've come here today hoping for a political post, well...once bitten and all that. I'm a personal blogger. I will be sticking to that, and if I want to vent about politics then I'll be talking to a friend. It's not that I mind if people disagree with me-I think that's normal, I think it's ok. People disagreed with me on Villainous Company's post but you know what? They were grown-ups about it. There were no death threats, no throwing around of the "moonbat" word (Wikipedia enlightened me to its origins). They have an educated and considerate discussion going on in the comments-proof it can be done, if the blog author is methodical, clear, and actually reads the post they're trackbacking to.

Anyway, hopefully no new hate mail comies in, I hope something else will have people circle jerking now. I'm disappointed in someone who is supposed to be a journalist and (I agree perhaps I'm being an idealist here) I thought journalists would have higher standards than to be ok with people making illegal death threats and would, you know, actually read something before linking it and de-crying to the world that the author is sad and "a moonbat" (and this is the only post I am using that word on this site, I promise you.) Journalists have a responsibility, but maybe that responsibility ends when a piece of work is done on a blog, which has no libellous powers that have to be answered to.

The comments will remain closed until I am sure the madness is over, then they will open back again. Because you know what? I love my readers and my commenters. I love my blog. I still stand by what I wrote yesterday and still disagree that it makes me "un-American"-I am simply saddened by what travelling has come to, and I want to know why the airports/we weren't prepared for this. This does not make me a supporter of terrorists. This does not make me un-American.

But then, the America I'm from doesn't come with illegal death threats based on a blogger stating their opinion.

Now I'm going to go pet my maligned dog. I'm going to get ready for my stepkids to visit-we're going to Wales for a few days on Sunday and I hope it'll help us all unwind. I've got a lot of work to do and some tidying up to do as well. This whole furore will end for me, because I'm tired of it. I won't fuel the fire anymore.

End of discussion.

And to those who emailed me, thank you.

To those who posted in support of me or in support of my right to an opinion, I love you too. If you want to say hi to them, go for it. If you want to leave death threats for them, well...You can just leave those for me instead. I've adjusted. The bloggers are:

Sir Henry
Statia
CalTech Girl's World
Ilyka Damen
She Who Will Be Obeyed
John of Argghhh!
Villainous Company
CrabApple Lane

And I'm going to be making Ilyka's Sad Moonbat Salad. I know just the communists to serve it up to, hopefully I can get them to put their Manifesto and their berets down long enough to pick up a plate. Those guys, whew! So fucking stubborn.

Have a good weekend, I'll see you mid-next week.

-H.

**UPDATED** Fox News did actually contact me back, their mail was simply caught in my server, which was dealing with the maelstrom, and I didn't receive it until about 1 pm today GMT. My apologies.

**UPDATED AGAIN** I will indeed be doing the interview on Fox News America Radio tonight after all. Fox Across America is broadcast from 2-5 pm ET, and I think my piece is on at 420 320 or so (oh hell, I dunno what time zone this is in. It's at 820 pm my time, GMT). There is apparently a link to listen to it streaming here. So...um...talk to you then. It's maybe a bad idea, but we'll see. Wish me luck.

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 05:41 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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We awoke this morning with a nice cuddle and a usual morning-one of us walked the dog, while the other made coffee. I let Mumin out and we played with Gorby. Then we did our usual-Angus started surfing on the downstairs PC while I made myself comfortable on the couch, finishing my book.

But then Angus-whose first stop in the surfing of the day-called me into the study. It seems this country has gone a little mad this morning, and in going mad, they've left us feeling pretty seriously vulnerable. We should have guessed it by the quiet outside-we couldn't hear a single plane, and at this time of day there should be some, high above the clouds, on their way to America and beyond.

Apparently a terror plot was foiled last night, which has not only resulted in the closing of Heathrow, but also in a number of grim officials on TV now telling us what we can and can't do. The biggest is this-no carry-on luggage. American websites are mis-reporting this issue as "British Airways not allowing carry-on luggage"-the truth is, no flight going to or from the UK-on any airline-can have carry-on luggage. The changes, as listed here, are as follows:

Passengers may take through the airport security search point, in a single (ideally transparent) plastic carrier bag, only the following items. Nothing may be carried in pockets:

- Pocket-size wallets and pocket-size purses plus contents (for example money, credit cards, identity cards etc (not handbags)

- Travel documents essential for the journey (for example passports and travel tickets)

- Prescription medicines and medical items sufficient and essential for the flight (eg, diabetic kit), except in liquid form unless verified as authentic

- Spectacles and sunglasses, without cases

- Contact lens holders, without bottles of solution

- For those travelling with an infant: baby food, milk (the contents of each bottle must be tasted by the accompanying passenger) and sanitary items sufficient and essential for the flight (nappies, wipes, creams and nappy disposal bags)

- Female sanitary items sufficient and essential for the flight, if unboxed (eg tampons, pads, towels and wipes)

- Tissues (unboxed) and/or handkerchiefs

- Keys (but no electrical key fobs). All passengers must be hand searched, and their footwear and all the items they are carrying must be X-ray screened.

- Pushchairs and walking aids must be X-ray screened, and only airport-provided wheelchairs may pass through the screening point.

- In addition to the above, all passengers boarding flights to the USA and all the items they are carrying, including those acquired after the central screening point, must be subjected to secondary search at the boarding gate.

Liquids and electronics, then, seem to be the bad guys.

And for all flights going into/out of the US, we still have to follow the rule as instituted a few years ago: no locked suitcases. So the good news is, we get to put valuable items in our suitcases now-like laptops, mobile phones, and iPods-and risk not only getting our knickers sniffed, but our important items knicked, too.

This is great. Unfortunately, we have already booked our tickets to Atlanta in November, otherwise the truth? We wouldn't be going. From a personal perspective, I'm already a nervous flier, the idea of getting on a plane without a book is damn near sacrilege to me-I don't think I can do it. On flights without films, etc, I'd go mad-I literally can't sit still for any extended period of time without getting wigged out. What am I supposed to do, juggle my tampons (which will be obviously exposed individually in my clear plastic bag)?

But that's not my biggest issue. My issue is I'm pretty tired. Really tired. I'm sorry if I come off ungrateful-I do absolutely extend sincere and heartfelts thanks to the MI5 and Scotland Yard for their vigilance, and am sure that they deserve kudos for busting a terror ring-that takes incredible skill and patience, I am sure, and it's also (I'd imagine) incredibly dangerous. The men who accomplished this foiling should get a medal, a raise, some time off, or at least a nice box of wine. Not sure what the going rate is for saving many lives, but they should get that times two.

But these temporary measures-they're not temporary. Not in the least. I suspect it'll be a year or more before we're allowed to carry anything on board. And I have to be honest-in some ways, this really fucks me off. To be drilled and scanned so many times. Why isn't security already good enough to catch things? Why take extra measures and scaring the bejeezus out of people just to fill the gaps that the airports can't fill? Why haven't the airports been secure enough before?

This is my biggest issue. It's as a security expert said this morning-it's not that hard to smuggle things onto airplanes. To which I want to shout: Why not? What is being done wrong that makes it not hard?

All this, and we're getting no further information here, and the information I see elsewhere is only so much conjecture. Strangely, the Swedish papers that have better info (true, Aftonbladet is a little bit sensationalist. Still, it's more info than we have and so I read all the Swedish newspapers this morning online.) But I reckon that as there are only 9 million people in Sweden, and maybe only a few million more that speak Swedish, this info is not so useful.

I wonder what end this is all coming to. I hate feeling like I'm a suspect, which is how I feel every time I fly in and out of the States-and I'm an American citizen, I wonder how other travellers who aren't citizens feel. I hate seeing what's happening in my lovely country-a few years ago when flying into Atlanta, the man in front of me-an American citizen, in the American citizens line-was pulled out by security and taken to another area to be grilled. I heard him asking what was going on, in a thoroughly American accent. His crime, I guess? He was of Arabic descent. I later saw him in the baggage claim area, and he looked like a lost soul.

That kind of action really winds me up.

I thought those days were over, and ended around the time that anyone could sit in any part of the bus.

I was wrong.

Terrorism is not new to anyone in England-they haven't had trash cans in train stations or tube stops for so long that no one seems to remember when they did have them. The IRA had the country under lock and key in some ways-now that the IRA are no longer such a concern, there's another reason to keep the bins out of stations. Living under threat is something that the people here-especially in the area I live and work in, the London and commuter areas-are accustomed to.

I remember flying out of Tel Aviv, on a business trip to Israel. Although I have a serious issue with their actions in Lebanon, I found the Israelis to be quite kind, but their way of life was so foreign to me-the security at the airport was the most ruthless and aggressive I had ever seen. I am a well-seasoned traveller but they had me, and many others, reduced to tears. I actually felt scared. Aside from the airport, I had good hosts, but I remember each time we went out for dinner we had to be searched at every restaurant. Some even had metal detectors fitted over the doors. The Israelis seemed so nonchalant about this-this was their way of life, they were used to it.

I don't want to be used to this.

I love the fact that I am an American, I am proud of my heritage and my background, but I am equally proud and thrilled to live in the UK with my English love. What I don't like, what my biggest problem is in all of this, is knowing there is loss of liberty. I hate that all details about me are transmitted to the US government when I travel, right down to any meals I order. I hate that wire-tapping is all A-ok now and can be done without a warrant. Hell, I'm sure this blog post will set off some flags somewhere, and some government official will read it to make sure I'm not a loon. I'm not a loon. No really, I'm not.

Angus' kids fly in tomorrow. Luckily, their mum still seems amenable to them coming. They'll have to hand carry their passports only, and I can't imagine that a three hour flight with nothing to do will be very good for morale.

I want nothing more than to bring a child into this world with Angus, as a family. I want to travel the world as a family with three kids. What I don't want is to know that there is fear along the way, that some borders are closed to us because of the color of our passport covers.

Tony Blair had better call his holiday short and fly back to the UK. And if he's going to lead the people, he should be one of us, and fly back with his transparent bag in his lap, containing his glasses and his passport and a couple of unused handkerchiefs.

-H.

**UPDATED**-I've closed comments and banned several commenters-it's a nice feeling, that IP-banning frenzy. Almost orgasmic. And I pulled then re-published then pulled then re-published this post and another I had explaining why I pulled it (the reason? The hate comments and email this post garnered by some trolls. Not worth it). I think I'll leave it up now. For now.

**UPDATED AGAIN**-if you came here via Michelle Malkin (who I believe didn't actually read my blog post) and want to spread the hate-save it. Seriously. I wrote this post first thing this morning UK time, before they'd even identified that there were specific airlines and threats involved. News reports were all conjecture then, there were no "10-20 airlines", at that time all we were told was there was "indicative threat". The point of this post is that I feel airports should have been better prepared. If you can't see that, this post isn't really for you, anyway.

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 07:33 AM | Comments (7) | Add Comment
Post contains 1737 words, total size 10 kb.

When we were in Santorini waiting for a ferry to Crete, I looked around and noticed many young couples around us. I weighed it all up in my head and realized if a=June and b=young couples then a+b=sex central, aka honeymoons. One couple in particular caught my attention.

While Angus-carrying our passports and our suitcase, business class tickets in his pocket-chatted with a nice older couple from Boston who were also waiting for the ferry and whom were regaling him with their experience years ago in the Lake District (strangely, they thought I was English. I didn't correct them on that, and I don't know why I didn't.), I watched this particular young couple in earnest. They must have been early twenties and clearly newlyweds-he held both of their American passports and their economy class tickets in his hands and he fidgeted constantly with his wedding ring, being unaccustomed to the weight of it. She had two bright, shiny rings on her left hand as well, and seemed nonplussed by them-they're supposed to be there, I am supposed to be laden was the gist of it. She had a tank top and a peasant skirt on, her hair in one long braid casually thrown over her shoulder. He had a dark blue shirt and khaki cargo shorts, a University of Michigan hat on his head (dark blue, bright yellow "M".) Both of them had large hiking backpacks slung over their backs.

I watched them, memerized. Maybe it is the anthropologist in me, or maybe it is the fact that I have been there, done that. I too have backpacked my way through the Greek Isles, never knowing where we'd stay, never minding that a night of sleep might be on the deck of a boat or it might be somewhere that tasted like the sea.

I watched them, and I understood.

I remember what it is like to be them.

Still giddy from the wedding, excited and in love. Memories of their wedding day still a bizarre mishmash in their head, too many people and too much happening. It's as though the rose petals are as fresh a scent on them as the first official night as a married couple.

I knew what was coming next.

They'd get home, exhausted and exhiliarated from their honeymoon. They'd bore everyone to tears with stories of their trip to Greece, how Santorini was beautiful and spacious, how Athens was dirty and noisy. Once the dust wore off their REI backpacks (now safely stowed in the hallway closet of their 2 bedroom apartment) the real world would set in.

The real world was driving to and from work. The boards and brick shelves that hold up the TV and VCR would be decorated with trinkets they bought on their honeymoon. Inside the tiny kitchen were sparkly appliances that they got from their wedding, and in one cupboard the china they requested, right down to the matching gravy boat.

Real life would be commuting to work. Setting the Tivo for Lost and watching it together, her in the pajama bottoms from The Gap. Dinners would be quick and simple, often of the frozen TV dinner variety. Occasionally they'd barbecue on their little apartment balcony with friends as young and noble as they are, him in his U of Michigan hat, she with her hair down, all of them clutching a moisture-laden half-drunk Dos Equis.

Over time the brick and board shelves would grate. In would come shelves from Pier One or IKEA, and the fleece covered futon would be replaced by a couch that they bought for $550 on a credit card with 15.9% APR. They would work hard at their careers and within a year would trade in one of their beaten up cars for a new, punchy car-an SUV, or an Audi TT, or a 4 year-old blue BMW that he would meticulously care for. His U of Michigan hat would linger in the backseat, and he'd wear it when the sun was out and he didn't have to mind the hat hair.

Then they'd move house. One or two of their Greek trinkets would get broken in the move, but the sacrifice would be worth it because they'd have a house now. They would borrow nearly the entire amount of money needed to buy the house but while means were tight, they were by no means unbearable. Their shower curtain would come from Linens 'N Things, her shower gel from Bath and Body Works. It would smell like sweet peas, and even though she'd never seen a sweet pea in her life, she'd love the scent. Their garden would consist of a large lawn and some straggly marigolds she'd planted then forgotten about. They'd drive to South Carolina/San Diego/the Hamptons for a one week holiday, where they'd laugh and spend time and eat seafood with their fingers. Their couch would still not be paid off.

Their marriage would have been going for a couple of years by this time. Attentions would start turning-he'd be plumping for the promotion and so would she, but their minds would start to turn to family. They'd take the brakes off and he would have night sweats about it. As weeks turned into months turned into a year, they'd wonder what was going on. They'd buy another couch, this time at 13.7% APR, and their guest room would remain a guest room. Sex would be dictated by a thermometer and an ovulation chart. It would rarely be anything but missionary.

She'd see a fertility specialist. They'd kick off IVF and the thin waist she had would be lost to bloating from the hormones and the open eating you have to do while trying to conceive. He'd get lines around the side of his eyes. It would be hard on their marriage. Fertility treatment may or may not work. There would be tears. They'd quarrel a lot, more than they used to, and she'd look at their wedding photo and wonder what happened to that guy, that guy she got all giddy with at the altar. He'd wonder what happened to that adventurous girl, the one who re-enacted the strip scene from 9½ Weeks. They'd never get an answer.

The stress would take its toll. He might hit her once, maybe twice. She'd cut her hair. He'd start relaying his fears to his best friend.

Then she'd announce it was over. He'd leave and she'd pack his things for him. She'd give him the wedding china, including the unused gravy boat. She'd keep the not-yet-paid-for couches. Going into the bin would be the IVF drugs, the Greek trinkets, and his U of M hat-she'd been tired of it for years and just waiting for her chance.

And just like that, it'd be over.

I watched them and knew that was what was ahead of them.

I wondered when I'd become so jaded.

-H.

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 08:45 AM | Comments (27) | Add Comment
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1 Wow... sad. Do you really think that will happen? Do love and hope and long happy marriages not exist anymore? Or is this just a jaded view of the world? No offense to you, Helen, but I'm going to keep my dreams of finding that right guy to enjoy the rest of my life together. After all, that's what dreams are for, right? Do you read these comments?

Posted by: Hannah at August 07, 2006 12:08 PM (5w+E2)

2 My first thought isn't that it's jaded, it's realistic... of course, that means that I'm jaded too, right?

Posted by: amber at August 07, 2006 12:12 PM (vdo94)

3 Hannah-I always read the comments. I generally don't respond in comments because I'm not home, and I can't/don't access my blog from work (work has blocked damn near everything on the web.) Some days (long London days) I don't get to read comments until late in the evening, but I read every one of them and always think about them (honest!) I don't respond to the comments via email as I feel like that might be invading people's privacy somehow. But when I work from home, like I get to today, I will try to be more regular among the comments. I think my problem is with young married couples. For me-either because I am a cynic or because I have been there-marriage is better when the couple is older and have figured a few things out from life. Enter life together too soon and with no experience, and things can get fucked up pretty quickly-but this is my perspective only. Happy marriages do exist, but I think that both people need to have a little time on the pedometer before walking down the aisle together. Amber-jaded is good. We like jaded. Wanna join me on the Jaded Bench? I brought beer?

Posted by: Helen at August 07, 2006 12:24 PM (BuBb1)

4 I actually agree with your explanation in the comment though I did come on here to say that you were jaded I married at 28 to a man that had been through it once before at a very young age. We both had our scars and baggage, but some how it really did make sure work harder.

Posted by: Jadewolff at August 07, 2006 12:45 PM (cH5GO)

5 Till death do us part is a vow that reflect reality. A reality Helen is discussing. Upon marriage there are three entities. Boy, Girl and boy-girl. Unless it is a same sex couple -same rules apply. All exist and share each other. Once the joint enity ceases to exist as a healthy entity the marriage vows have been satisfied. Intersting to read Hannah's thoughts as a recent employee was a Hannah who shared similar views. After she left most of us remarked how we would like to be there when her first marriage disintergrates. And hers will. She lacks the experience to understand people change and the ability to cope with the changes. I feel sorry for her. How do I know. Like Helen, been there and done that.

Posted by: Foggy at August 07, 2006 01:05 PM (Ah2V/)

6 Hope Hannah understood I did not mean confuzzled Hannah. Was referring to the Hannah I know. Unless the confuzzled Hannah has a sever case of split personality as the Hannah I know would be incapable of the confuzzled blog.

Posted by: Foggy at August 07, 2006 01:13 PM (Ah2V/)

7 as one half of a young couple preparing to tie the knot, all i can say is that i hope we can avoid landing in that "fucked up" place, as Helen put it.

Posted by: geeky at August 07, 2006 01:41 PM (ziVl9)

8 It doesn't have to be this way. I met my husband at 15, we were together for 10 years before we got married and we've been married for 13 years. I admit it isn't always rosy but sometimes you just know you're going to be OK. My husbands parents have been maried for 49 years and my own parents for almost 47 years, so maybe I just don't expect anything else. Maybe sometimes there is a "happliy ever after". I hope you've found yours with Angus.

Posted by: Gill at August 07, 2006 01:59 PM (TsRom)

9 It doesn't have to be this way. I met my husband at 15, we were together for 10 years before we got married and we've been married for 13 years. I admit it isn't always rosy but sometimes you just know you're going to be OK. My husbands parents have been maried for 49 years and my own parents for almost 47 years, so maybe I just don't expect anything else. Maybe sometimes there is a "happily ever after". I hope you've found yours with Angus.

Posted by: Gill at August 07, 2006 02:00 PM (TsRom)

10 I don't think that life experience makes us jaded. It does make us wise. In your life, this is what you have seen happen, so it stands to reason that you could see these kids lives headed there. Sometimes, we make these observations so that if it does happen, we can say "Ha! Told ya so...I KNEW it..." But the fact that you give love a go with Angus, everyday, shows that you don't fully believe that this is what happens to love. Although, the chump DOES sport a Michigan hat, and every good Buckeye knows that Michigan sucks. So if it all falls apart for him, I'd blame it on the whole Michigan thing... (Sorry...I had to go there...) I think you're wonderful. You're not jaded. You're very f*cking smart.

Posted by: Serena at August 07, 2006 02:04 PM (ToHm9)

11 Geeky, I really wish you happiness in your marriage. Honest. Not all marriages that start off at a young age end at a young age. It's just my cynical view. If I think about Angus and I-if we'd met and hooked up in our early 20's (which is impossible given our age difference, but there you are) we'd maybe not have made it-our relationship is a function of who we are today. It's as Serena summed up-what we've seen in our experiences has helped make us who we are as a couple. And as an individual, time has helped even more-I maybe don't know who I am, but in my early 20's? It was a wilderness.

Posted by: Helen at August 07, 2006 02:23 PM (BuBb1)

12 Unfortunately, the odds are with you, Helen. I've seen this from both sides of the fence and believe the marriages that last are few and far between. Of course NONE of us expect that is how it will end when we marry, or we'd never marry! There is always so much hope in a wedding... I think I've finally found my 'happily ever after', but it took more than one go-'round at the old wedding game. I hope you, too, have found yours.

Posted by: sue at August 07, 2006 03:36 PM (ZZHVm)

13 I'm not sure why you assume that poor couple, who did nothing to deserve being reduced to a cultural stereotype, to paraphrase "Annie Hall," would have fertility problems. While I think we all know far too many people who have tragically struggled to get and stay pregnant, the vast majority of people still are able to get pregnanct and reproduce when they want. Maybe that only staves off the inevitable for this couple, and it is the tedium of caring for two kids while juggling careers and fighting money woes and never having sex that eventually does the marriage in. But, don't you think that, in this instance, you might have been universalizing from your own experience somewhat? That's not jaded. That's something else entirely.

Posted by: Emily at August 07, 2006 04:05 PM (CO+eQ)

14 Geez, I dunno Emily. You're the one that seems to have something stuck in your craw about this. I have the feeling you're having a go at me regarding me judging the "poor couple" yet I think you're in turn judging me. I was indeed musing about a couple based on my experiences, which I stated early on in the post. And "cultural stereotype" has been around long before Annie Hall.

Posted by: Helen at August 07, 2006 04:56 PM (BuBb1)

15 I for one am looking forward to my upcoming marriage. At 34 I hope my view never goes as jaded.

Posted by: Drew at August 07, 2006 05:16 PM (DngOs)

16 My husband and I were 22 when we married, and it will be 11 years on August 12. True, we have changed, grown, and 'found' ourselves these past years, but we have fortunately done it together. And it has been a hell of a lot of work sometime. The flip side is a lot of young couples grow apart as they grow up-it is a fact of life. Helen, your are not as jaded as you think. Marriage itself is a ton of work-as you well know-and the changes we all go through in our early and mid twenties can sometimes complicate things. On the other hand, it can strengthen a marriage. I know mine has seen many challenges-including my diagnosis and struggle with depression, and we were both juniors in college when we married-still being asked out by other people even after we were married! However, it has drawn us together even more, and after the children (a whole new batch of challenges), we have to work at being a united front everyday. Yes, there are times I wish we would have waited a few more years, but I have no regrets. I adore my husband, and he does me. Does that mean every couple should marry young? Hell no. Does that mean every couple should wait? No. What it does mean is that each couple should do what they feel is right for them. From what you write, you are growing more confident and secure in your own skin everyday. If I was a strong of a woman then as I am now a lot of the silly little arguments we had (and at the time the ones I thought were so important) would have never taken place. That is why you and Angus work so well-you know who you are and what you want. And even though we are in our (very) early thirties, it is hard not to look at those in their early twenties and almost feel sorry for them, knowing all the life they have to learn about, yet they are so confident they know everything. I do it all the time-funny thing is when we were on our honeymoon (where you going now that you are married? Disney World!!) someone was probably looking at us the same way you were looking at that couple-I just thank god that we didn't end up that way, and at the same time I thank god those years are behind us. A lot of laughs, but a lot of tears too. Thanks for the post today-I thought it was brilliant.

Posted by: Teresa at August 07, 2006 05:34 PM (f+o6m)

17 I wasn't going to chime in, but after reading Teresa's comment, I felt like I needed to put in my 2 cents. I don't think you're jaded, just realistic. Like Teresa, my hubby and I met early on (Junior High, actually) and started dating young (he was my prom date!). We've been married 7 years and together over a dozen. And that can be a scary thing, considering that more than a third of my life is wrapped up with his. We've been lucky enough to grow together, instead of apart, and to be able to remember that we are important to each other. I think a lot of couples forget that, or they marry so early in life that their togetherness has no meaning for them. When we're younger, we're selfish, and the things we want individually are the most important things. As older, wiser people we learn to value the relationships in our lives more than we did when we were younger, and be less selfish about our wants.

Posted by: caltechgirl at August 07, 2006 06:07 PM (/vgMZ)

18 Damn it. Crying here. First go - I was 19. He was 20. We were both in grad school and got married because it just seemed like the thing to do. Why not add an MRS to the BBA and MBA? It lasted less than a year. The hitting preceded the IVF thankfully. When I left - I left the German china that had been handed down through the family - including the gravy boat. Second go. I was 23, he was 38. It'll be four years this week. We got all the way up to IVF before he changed his mind and said no more. And I'm leaving behind the gravy boat again (which we never even used) because I've grown up - and in doing so - grown apart from a man that I once desperately loved with every fibre of my being. It's breaking my heart, but it is. It just is. This isn't cynical or jaded. It's real. It's fundamentally impossible for people to understand what infertility does to you, how it rips you apart psychologically and leaves you a shell of who you once were - unless you've been there. It breaks apart all that you believe and crushes your dreams. It destroys you and the ones you love. And hell, if there's room on the Group J bench, I'd not mind to be sat there.

Posted by: April at August 07, 2006 08:00 PM (MSB13)

19 But I think it's not that I'm jaded. It's that I believe that there's more than this feeling of emptiness. I believe that it's possible to be happy. I'm taking a chance, but I know that the reality is not always lovely.

Posted by: April at August 07, 2006 08:03 PM (MSB13)

20 I don't see it as a bad thing, this jaded you. It not about being jaded. It's about even through the lowest most jaded times of our lives, we carry on toward another go. Please forgive any multiple posts, the page keeps telling me I can't post because I am stupid. No really, it does. I am just going to try again...

Posted by: Some Girl at August 07, 2006 08:41 PM (+3BZS)

21 You are truly a writer. I'm sitting here in shock. I often look at people while traveling and wonder what their life is like, instead of wonder, you've describe it. Not the flower smelling dreams of newlyweds is it? Being a not so flowery newlywed myself I admire your jaded view and appreciate your honesty as always. Keep writing. I can see a lot of newlywed couples I know in the couple you described. But I know that I won't be one...for one we didn't even have a honeymoon

Posted by: Juls at August 07, 2006 09:54 PM (ka1Yp)

22 Helen - As usual, great writing. I enjoyed the thought, like you were pondering. I've noticed those couples too. You forgot to mention the part where she realizes that going to the alter was like sprinkling magic fairy dust on their relationship. He's still the same a-hole who chewed tabacco. And she still doesn't like his mother. And you forgot the part where she thinks if they could just have a baby, they would have something in common, then they would have a permanent bond. It was a great exercise in writing. Very descriptive.

Posted by: sarajane at August 07, 2006 09:59 PM (t5Xsa)

23 just wanted to say, this was my favorite post in a long time. i don't know why.

Posted by: anew at August 07, 2006 10:29 PM (QaZas)

24 I do that often myself, you know. Superimpose an imagined life onto people who wander into my line of mindsight. It's not jaded, in my view. It's a release of something, almost. An exploration of something personal, with convenient, unawares bystanders available for performing the script we write in our veins. This was gorgeous, Helen. Every multi-textured line.

Posted by: Jennifer at August 08, 2006 12:30 AM (CEc5z)

25 Delurking. I heard a story where a traveler comes to a man sitting outside a town and asks what the people in that town are like. The man sitting asked, "What were the people like in the last town you were in?" "Selfish, conniving, and resentful," came the reply. The man sitting said, "These people are about the same." Another traveler came, asked the same question, and was similarly queried by the man sitting. The traveler responded, "Kind, helpful, and pleasant." The man sitting said, "These people are about the same." I think often we get what we expect. If you expect 5 years of good marriage followed by 2 crappy years and divorce, you're likely to get it. If you expect a life-time marriage and are willing to work at it, you're likely to get it. But as the great Sam Malone said, "That's just one guy's opinion." Back to lurking.

Posted by: K David at August 08, 2006 02:55 PM (pW0NG)

26 You are completely accurate, how much of the 'happy couple' is an act? When reality sits in the insecurities escalate, and they are left to wonder who they are and what happened to the fairy tale. I got married way too early...it is A LOT of work, especially when the kids come along. But we do go numb...and then check back in to reality...and check back out to fairytale.

Posted by: Steff at August 09, 2006 12:46 AM (Ip3Mw)

27 Interesting comments. However... idealistic is not necessarily realistic. Realistic means realizing that the world is NOT your oyster and that people aer out there to fuck you. While I do see this, I'm trying really really hard not to believe it yet, to try and believe that there's always going to be some good in people. I don't want to have to accept this truth yet, though I'm afraid it's coming. I've been through a big messy breakup, though thankfully we were both decent to each other through most of it. But ... I don't want to have to recognize the ugliness of it all. Can I wait a couple of years until I join you guys on the jaded bench?

Posted by: Hannah at August 10, 2006 10:42 AM (5w+E2)

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Right.

The study is done.

OK, well, technically it's nearly done, as the cabinet hasn't yet been scrubbed within an inch of its life, it's really only been scrubbed twice, and as my grannie used to say: Twice is not within an inch of its life! (She didn't really say that, it just seems like the kind of thing grannies would say.) And we haven't put anything in the cabinet, and it needs some tidying, some pictures need to be hung up on the walls, and blah blah blah I want a drink.

Getting there.

In the meantime I have some pictures.

The Brighton cupboard hasn't been stripped yet, but still stands outside under a tarp (another Cristo masterpiece!) to be done this weekend. You can see it here, though, on the top left hand side (the picture next to it? A stool from 1650. Get the fuck out. That place rocks.)

The lovely and beautiful dresser is, actually, possibly older than we thought. Angus originally estimated it at about 100 years old but some of the panes of glass were made the old fashioned way, which puts things at anyone's guess. It needs a few more rounds of scrubbing and (possibly) repainting, but we're keen to keep it as simple and neat as possible.

We also got one of those old-fashioned collection boxes, this one from a church in Salem (fitting, really). We now use it to host our 2 pound coin collection, having graduated the pint jar from this duty, which we'll blow on a weekend away when the thing is full.

Angus has hung up my light, which I love. It's made from recycled fibers (hippies!) and has butterflies punched out on it. I know it's a bit weird and quirky but it makes me smile, and shouldn't lighting evoke an emotional reaction anyway?

And until Angus gets his wide angle lens, it's hard to show the entire mass of work we've done in terms of the bookshelves-they flank both sides of the fireplace and are made from the 100 year-old floorboards we got at a salvage yard.

I love them. They surround the fireplace, from which hangs a mirror that Angus inherited from his grandparents.

We've put a throw rug down that matches the deep red of the walls. I still have trim and doors to paint, there are bits and pieces to be done, but we're nearly done in here, and this study has become a place where we love to relax.

All of us.

-H.

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 06:23 AM | Comments (11) | Add Comment
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Dear Sparks,

You mentioned the other night that sometimes you take me for granted and you try to be conscious of that. You told me that you think of me in the quiet spaces of the day that I am not physically near, and when you do, you smile. You say things to me that you maybe haven't said to anyone else, and since words of love tend to be recycled time and again, it's a comfort.

I could make this cutesy and sappy, I could pour out my heart for you and fill it with gently sanded spaces, but as time passes I have found that love, like everything else in my life, grows up. What I have with you is rounding out of puberty now and looking to ditch the fake ID in favor of debating Nietzche and drinking dodgy brandy. It's not pretentious, but it's growing up, and that's all that matters.

When you left for a meeting in London this morning, with product in your hair and that nice aftershave I bought you marking the space on your neck, I laughed and kissed you and asked who's this other woman you're meeting? The fact of the matter is, I don't worry that you'll meet someone else. Not because I am so sure of myself, but I am so sure that we have a layer of honesty the prevents it-glasnost, we've always called it. And now we have a Gorbachev to oversee it, and I know that it's still in place.

I still trust you, you know.

I love that you talked me down from a ledge earlier this week when I had to go to the other side of England for a business meeting. Trapped in some podunk train stop you Googled me out of it, and your calm reassurance helped relieve my stress.

Thank you, baby.

I love that we go places together and do things that make us laugh. In two weeks we'll be in Wales in that B&B we love so madly. In two months we'll be in Inverness, and we both love Scotland unconditionally. In three months we'll be at my friend's wedding in the States, and we get to go shopping (Target! Sephora! Old Navy! Home Depot!) and eat all the Mexican we can stand (please? Pretty please?). And we get to get gussied up again for the wedding, and my God you are so handsome-whether naked, in your boxers, or in your black tie.

Angus and I Hosted on Zooomr

Thanks for listening to me, too. I know I have a sometimes screwed-up way of looking at things, but it means a lot to me that you pay attention.

I can't believe it's been all these years and I still love you as much as ever. The only person I have ever loved longer than you now is John Cusack (well, ok, there was that brief crush I had on Mr. Snuffleupagus, but I really don't think he counts, especially since I don't even own that Sesame Street LP anymore, and can only just remember the lines to Rubber Duckie. No really. That unrequited love affair is so over. Which reminds me, please stop trying to have an American accent, it's not very becoming. And while I'm at it, making Alan Partridge faces while I'm coming on to you really puts my fire out as effectively as thinking of Whoopi Goldberg while trying to orgasm.)

I've always had a thing for older men with furry chests, I guess.

Thank you for making not one but two treks out to that antique shop to help furnish my study. It's nearly there now, and the re-wiring you did yesterday so that I would be able to hang my new lampshade, which I still exclaim over with girly glee, is something you did without a single complaint. That means a lot to me. Especially the not complaining part, I love that.

Thank you for making me macaroni and cheese yesterday and for admonishing me to not overdo it today, to not lift too many things in our wartorn study.

It's things like that, babe. Things like that.

I love you like this:

(Found courtesy of here, makers of my favorite cards).

Love,
-H

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 10:10 AM | Comments (14) | Add Comment
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1 Um. Where in the states? Hmmmmm????

Posted by: Ms. Pants at August 03, 2006 02:06 PM (GefuU)

2 Y'all look lovely. And happy. Yay for you.

Posted by: Deb at August 03, 2006 02:18 PM (Tlsf8)

3 Pants my darlin', we're going to be in Atlanta

Posted by: Helen at August 03, 2006 02:39 PM (H5Yt3)

4 Good to know you love Scotland unconditionally, as if I ever get my ass over there I'd love to have visitors.

Posted by: amy t. at August 03, 2006 02:47 PM (zPssd)

5 Funny - I'm Canadian, currently in the States...in heaven because I've been to Target (& Ross!), excited about visiting Sephora (we have Old Navy & Home D), and currently on day 3 of eating great Mexican food. Love the American specialties

Posted by: loribo at August 03, 2006 03:07 PM (mj1kl)

6 That was beautiful!

Posted by: Lisa at August 03, 2006 04:23 PM (qwiiJ)

7 The other Lisa said exactly what I was going to say. Lovely picture, too. You two look so happy and wonderful together. Thank you for sharing that with us.

Posted by: Lisa at August 03, 2006 04:49 PM (ELUjU)

8 '..it's been all these years...' How many?

Posted by: jeynifer at August 03, 2006 05:30 PM (4dWnl)

9 Awwwwwww. Love the picture!

Posted by: caltechgirl at August 03, 2006 05:31 PM (/vgMZ)

10 Aahh, my űber sweetie. I love her the mostest.

Posted by: Angus at August 03, 2006 06:05 PM (BuBb1)

11 That was awfully sweet, H. He's an exceptionally lucky guy, your fella.

Posted by: RP at August 03, 2006 06:09 PM (LlPKh)

12 I adore love letters. And your Angus. And you.

Posted by: Donna at August 03, 2006 06:32 PM (Aanzg)

13 What a lovely post. You two make a beautiful couple...

Posted by: sue at August 03, 2006 07:21 PM (WbfZD)

14 You look marvelous together!!

Posted by: kenju at August 03, 2006 08:29 PM (2+7OT)

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The study is nearly finished. This is good, as while I can take change ok, utter-fucking-turmoil is something I struggle a bit with. The walls are painted (Mr. Do You Want This Done Right? is asking when I'm going to paint the ceiling. I LOVE you baby, but I've painted the ceilings in every other room in this house, my own personal line in the sand is here-I hereby solemnly swear, on the round of Reblouchon we have in the fridge, that I absolutely do not want to paint that goddamn ceiling. So it is written, so it shall be.)

The boy has done an incredible job with the wiring. Angus is big on cabling, and as such our study-which unfortunately, due to us being on various trials, etc with work, is throbbing with expensive kit designed to facilitate, radiate and repudiate. Pick a new gizmo and chances are we may have one, although the truth is we don't actually like having all this shit, especially as trials invariably have us swapping out wifi routers, inserting sims into test phones, and re-bricking the walls of our fabulous firewall. So there are many, many cables in this room.

And, being an old house, it figures that in the entire room, there's only one outlet.

Nice.

On Sunday, sweaty and foul, Angus informed me of our new task-we got to pull up floorboards and put cables under the boards.

I stared at our ancient soft wood floorboards. "You want to go under those?" I asked with a shudder.

"Oh yes," he replied nonchalantly. "We have to put the cables under the floor so they'll be out of the way. "It's only earth under there, what are you afraid of, what do you think could be under there?"

"Dead people. Ghosts. Something from a horror movie, and I'm no Jamie Lee Curtis, I can't pull that shit off." I reply with a whisper.

We rip up the floorboards, a sweaty, nasty horrible job. With a crack the board came up and we saw that these floorboards aren't as old as the ones upstairs-those are original in the house, these have been laid since (we know as these were tongue and groove floorboards. I sound like I talk dirty to the New Yankee, don't I?) Once we lifted them, I could see Angus was right-our house is built literally on top of the earth, which lay about a foot down (am not sure what I expected. It's not like houses were built on Faberge Eggs or bouncy castles, of course they rest on the ground. Idiot.) I peer down and see a scrap of ancient wallpaper, so I reach in to pick it up.

"See any rat droppings down there?" Angus asks casually.

I drop the wallpaper like a hot potato and wonder how I can cauterize my arm off.

We run the cables under the floor, and I even throw a cling-film wrapped picture of Angus and I down there. He looks at me like I was mental, and I shrug. "I would've loved it if we could find a picture of the first family that owned this house, I thought in maybe 100 years someone would get a grin out of seeing a picture of the family that owned the house in 2006."

The first owner of this house was a brother, his other brother owned the house next door. What trips me out is that in 1914, the brother bought this house for £90. Times, they have truly changed.

The floorboards go back in place and you can't tell we were ever there. The place is now well-wired and humming along.

What we needed last was a new cabinet of some kind to hold CDs and documents. We are a bit tired of Ikea-they have some cute things, and are great if you're not sure what you need so you go for something you're not going to mind chucking someday. But we did have an idea of what we wanted, and we found one online at-of all places-an antique shop specializing in church antiques.

We went there yesterday. This place is packed, not only because many churches are being deconsecrated as their flock stray, but because they want to be kitted with the latest and greatest in Biblical technology. So pulpits from the 1700's sat, forlorn, next to church stools of the Shaker variety, and a massive pipe organ sat dismantled, still gleaming in the corner.

I know this sounds bizarre, but I've always wanted my own pew. My very own pew. It's true, God and I are at odds (but he owes me money), but still-a pew is a pew. People's hopes and dreams soak into the wood, and they become soft after years of people shifting up and down them. I wanted a pew. We found some pews and, there amongst several other things, was the world's most perfect cabinet.

Angus haggled with the guy over the cabinet, a few lights, and another cabinet we thought we could use as a linen cupboard (turns out the soon-to-be linen cupboard is from a Methodist church in Brighton, and is about 100 years old.) I, meanwhile, found leftover church robes and spent time draping them over ancient trunks, pretending I was Cristo and this was my new draped creation.

I wondered if just being there and buying former church furniture was like pennance, because I could do with a whole lot of that.

The Brighton cabinet is being stripped and may be re-painted, but right now it sits under a tarp outside, waiting for its new home (another Cristo creation by Helen!) The cabinet for my study comes home tomorrow-it has the old-fashioned leaded windows, and two panes were missing so the antique center will fix them for us.

I haven't gotten my pew yet (but as the man there said, "the pew market has dropped out", which makes me wonder: who the fuck was asking for pews?). There was also a wooden carved angel that captured my fantasty and I would love, but maybe that's for another time. We have to go easy on the religious artifacts, lest people think that we drink our wine straight out of Corinthians.

We came home and surveyed our study, still covered in God dust.

It looks fantastic.

Pictures to follow.

-H.

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 05:07 AM | Comments (9) | Add Comment
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