Goodbye

Goodbye comfortable full sized bed.

Goodbye complete wardrobe, and shoes... oh, the shoe collection.

Goodbye car.

Goodbye Target and Wal-Mart and American-sized grocery stores.

Goodbye Mexican food, Old Bay, and grits.

Goodbye live American television (White Collar, Glee, Big Bang Theory, various embarrassing addictions like Teen Mom 2 and RuPaul's Drag Race...)

Goodbye friends and family stateside.

It's time to head back to Scotland.

License and Registration, Ma'am

It's now down to just a couple of days before I head back across the pond, and of course, there are whole lists of things that I need to get done before then. Could I have done them sooner? Yeah, probably. But that's neither here nor there. One of the things on the list? Spending a lovely afternoon at the MVA.



For those unaware, that would be the Maryland Motor Vehicle Administration, a wonderland of... standing in lines, waiting for your number to be called, only to realize that you didn't pay attention and the person behind the counter who's looking at you like you're insane isn't just being cranky, it's because you're sitting at the wrong window and completely didn't pay attention to the call screen (I got distracted! It wasn't my fault! Okay, it was completely my fault but... yeah, I have no excuse).

Once I got to the right window, it was easy enough to get the ball rolling, get all registered in the great state of Maryland, and... surrender my out of state paperwork.

I didn't think it was going to be as hard to hand over that license as it was. I haven't lived in Maryland in years, but as I no longer have a permanent residence outside of MD, it made sense to go ahead and change all of the paperwork now that I was on break. Yes, I realize I spend my time in Scotland now, but it felt like closing a big door when I handed over my North Carolina license.

I loved living in Raleigh for the most part. And I've lived there for the better part of ten years, with the occasional shift back home before going back. I don't know if I'll go back -- that's all going to depend on who wants to give me a job and contribute to this gainful employment thing I'll be eager to get back to at the end of this adventure. But I do know that I made friends with some awesome people, had some fantastic adventures, and almost sort of considered putting down roots. Haven't quite gotten all of the adventure and wanderlust out of my blood, but Raleigh would be in the running once that happens. Of course, there's also the question of 'is it the people or the area that I fell in love with?' Even if I entertained going back, there are people who made it awesome who are still there and who are probably not going anywhere, but there are also a good number of them who have left on their own adventures or who I hope leave to go on adventures.

Every big move comes with questions, and none of them have to be answered right now. As it stands, I still have that wanderlust in my blood (hello Scotland), and even though it has meant next steps and adventure, it's still hard to close that door and hand over something as silly as a driver's license for a new one.

Well, that and my picture on this one isn't nearly as good as the picture on my old one. I looked good today, too, but man, that did not communicate well on film.

Lazy

The family cat, who thinks he's people. Or thinks he's better than people -- we're not too sure on that. But he sure does have the lazy option down pat.

The last Saturday before I head back across the pond to the UK, and how do we spend it at my parents' house? Lazy. My sister and my niece are hanging out, I think only two of us actually bothered to put on anything other than pajamas today, and we've done a whole lot of... nothing.

Delightful, relaxing nothing.

Classes are going to start up quickly once I get back, and I'm already waiting on a book for next semester to show up from Amazon so that I can start before the first class. But for right now? I'm going to be lazy. And I'm going to enjoy being lazy.

O Christmas Tree (3 of 3)

We've seen family, we've seen snow, and now it's time for...

Christmas Tree 3 aka The Santa Tree



My mom has collected Santas for as long as I can remember. You knew it was Christmas time when the Santas started coming out. So, when selecting themes for the skinny trees we wanted to theme decorate, there was no question that one of them would need to be a Santa tree.



Skinny tree with red glass balls, glass Santas in antique designs, and assorted other fun Santas we had. All wrapped up with candy cane ribbon.



I was bummed that I didn't get the chance to put up a Christmas tree in St Andrews this year, but I just didn't have the cash lying around to bother getting a tree and all the ornaments to make it as epic as the ones I've done before. But I was bummed because for me, the tree is the holiday. I love my tree. I love the gaudy ornaments, I love the fakeness of it so I don't have to worry about a dead tree rotting, and I love that when I set a Christmas tree up, it automatically feels like the holidays. Christmas trees also remind me of my mom, since that's our thing over the holidays. And it's nice to have something of family at the holidays.

Next year my epic tree is going up no matter what country I'm in.

O Christmas Tree (2 of 3)

Now, we go into the decorative trees. These are my favorites. One of the big fundraisers in my hometown is the Festival of Trees -- different people/groups decorate Christmas trees to be auctioned off to the community to raise money for Hospice. It's always fun to walk through the tree display before they go to their homes in offices and businesses and homes. They're always decorated in a theme and I just thought that looked like fun.

A few years ago, my mother, who digs a good Christmas decoration with the best of them, decided the house could use a big more festivity. And so we pulled out a few smaller, theme decorated trees.

Christmas Tree 2 aka The Snowman Tree



Ah, the Snowman tree. The one I suspect is my mom's favorite. And, if I'm honest, mine too. (But only because I didn't get to put up the tree I've slowly collected for a decorated for the past few years in my townhouse down south when I was, you know, employed -- that thing has feathers on it. You can't beat a Christmas tree with peacock feathers. It's epic.)



But the Snowman tree is a favorite, decked out with a few sets of glass snowmen, individual snowman ornaments we've collected, sparkly snowflakes, sparkly... curly cue... thingies... that are awesome and I don't know the technical name of, and bows made out of snowflake ribbon.



It's a pretty safe bet that a new snowman ornament would always be an appreciated gift.

O Christmas Tree (1 of 3)

With essays turned in I can finally relax for the last little bit of my stop at home. Which probably means that I should do some cleaning up in my room because there's still the tell tale explosion of Christmas around. Although it makes me feel better that it's not the only sign of Christmas still around.

In true family tradition, the Christmas tree is still up. Oh, we've taken the ornaments down and packed them away, but the tree itself it still sitting proudly in the middle of the room because it hasn't made it back up to the attic. When will it get up there? Well... maybe before I head back to Scotland. Or maybe not. I'm taking bets on 50/50 at the moment.

So, I thought that I'd share a few pictures of one of my favorite parts of the holidays -- my trees -- since I didn't during the ACTUAL holiday season.

Christmas Tree 1 aka The Family Tree



The main event. Ole Faithful. The tree cluttered with family memories, handmade candycane ornaments, and year after year collectables. The one that sits there and says hello as we gather round and open presents on Christmas morning.



It's less cluttered this year as my sister has taken her box of ornaments to her house to put on her Christmas tree, and I wasn't here to put my entire box of ornaments on as I didn't get into town until a few days before Christmas. But homey all the same.



The pile of reindeer under the tree. The pile of awesome reindeer that we got from Burger King back in the late 80s/early 90s and have made Christmas appearances ever since. They are a favorite of both the niece and the cat for obvious reasons.

Next time: Decorative Trees

Do You Miss It?

I went out to breakfast with two of my very best friends from high school this morning, which is always a treat this time of year. Two of us live out of town (one in Vegas and one in, you know, Scotland) and the other just had a baby, so getting schedules coordinated in order to see each other is always a struggle. So it's usually once a year, around Christmas, when we're all back in town.

One of the questions asked was "do you miss it?" Do you miss being away from home? And yeah, I always miss home when I'm away from it. And I've also discovered, for all our fails and foibles and what not, I like being American. Be it ever so humble, and all.

But now, as I'm back here, I find myself missing things back in Scotland. One of the big ones is that I miss hearing people talk. And yes, it's a mixture of Scottish and assorted other British, mixed with the range of Greek, German, Eastern European, Chinese and Scandinavian from my course, but I miss hearing people talk. Which has me finding I turn on BBC America to fill in the noise.

Today's noise is brought to you by Law & Order: UK, which aside from being awesome and comfortingly formulaic as Law & Order (one go to tv badass is Olivia Benson from SVU -- she will take you down and be awesome doing it), adds in accents and wigs. Plus it has the fantastic Freema Agyeman from Doctor Who (Martha Jones) and the almost too beautiful to be real Jamie Bamber from Battlestar Galactica (Lee 'Apollo' Adama). Seriously, school girl crush. Honestly didn't know he was British until I stumbled on one of the BSG behind the scenes and heard him talking in his real accent. Be still my heart.

It's familiar and foreign at the same time, and just what I needed after working on my essays today.



In the criminal justice system, the people are represented by two separate yet equally important groups; the police who investigate crime, and the Crown Prosecutors who prosecute the offenders. These are their stories...

Christmas Eve

My luggage finally made it back to the States and into my loving arms at 2am this morning. Considering that the flights into Baltimore from Heathrow had been sacrificed on the altar of 'we can only fly 1/3 of our normal schedule because holy crap the snow is killing us in the UK' I have nothing to complain about. And it doesn't look like anything was thiefed from my bag either, so again, nothing to complain about.

It made it back by Christmas Eve. Which means I had time to do that inevitable holiday task -- wrapping.



As the dining room table had already been cleared off for dinner (which for my Southern family means barbecue, coleslaw, and mac & cheese among other amazing foods -- turkey can wait, the eve belongs to pork) my bed becomes wrapping central for all of us who waited till the last minute (or who had no choice because their luggage was on another continent). Which while I wish wasn't so, usually means not them doing their own wrapping, but knocking on my door with a pitiful 'Rebecca... since you have the tape out, could you...'

They keep saying I'd miss it if they didn't ask. I reply they've never given me a chance to miss it.

Welcome Home

After an incredible amount of luck, my flight from Edinburgh made it in to Heathrow. And then, even with a six hour delay, my flight from Heathrow actually left and made it into Baltimore.

My luggage, however, decided it really wanted to spend Monday in London, so it stayed behind and planned to get the next BWI flight out.

All in all, 26 hours of travel time later, I am thrilled to be home.



The Departures board at Heathrow. I was one of the lucky ones. Everyone else? Enquire Airline, which means 'your flight has been canceled, but we don't have the heart to upset you again, so get that info from your airline instead'

Craft Time

It is cold. There's no two ways about it. It is cold here. The cold, the dark, and the silence. Well... not so much silence with everyone milling about in the cold and the dark, but lists are always better in threes.

I rarely check the weather here. I can tell you already what the weather is going to be in St Andrews -- cold, windy, drizzly at points during the day. No need for me to bother with checking the weather.

But my flatmate informs me yesterday that the weather map calls for snow chances all week. Now, this doesn't shock me too much as, like I said before, it's cold.

I don't think too much of it until I'm coming back with laundry and what does it look like outside?




Snow. Snow really coming down. Huge snowflakes really coming down.

Which then makes me want to do this.



I don't care if that makes me eight -- paper snowflakes! For the windows! What better cheap winter decoration is there? And for broke postgrads, there's nothing better than cheap. Or free, as the case may be, since the previous tenant left an entire ream of printer paper.

I know I jumped the gun putting things up before Thanksgiving but... they don't celebrate Thanksgiving here, so I'm going to conveniently ignore that rule!

Icy to Dull the Pain, Hot to Relax It Away

Newest addition to the 'Things Rebecca Never Realized Didn't Exist Outside of the US' list: IcyHot.

My weekend hiking was wonderful, scenic, hilarious, and exhausting.

And it tore. up. my. thighs.

High steps up and down a mountain are tiring when you're actually in shape, and killer when you're in 'shape'. I keep thinking to myself 'oh, I'm totally in shape, I'm doing well' until I do something like this past weekend in Gairloch and realize that holy crap my shape is not actually shape.

It was a good thing that I didn't have anything planned for today because the thighs were not having it. So while out loud I'm going to blame my lazy day on the fact that I opened my blinds and found rain and clouds and wind and general dreariness, let's not fool ourselves and give credit to muscle aches where credit is due.

The solution to muscle aches when I was at home was the glory that is IcyHot. Why decide whether you want hot or cold when the miracle of modern chemistry allows you to have both? Apparently they haven't gotten on this train here in the UK because the 30 minutes today where I was outside of my flat consisted of me in the Boots staring at the aisle, looking back and forth between the hot and cold gels near the ibuprofen wondering 'but where's the IcyHot' or at least the UK equivalent of both in one tube. It doesn't exist. The girl at the till just shook her head as I'm coming up and setting down my goods and looking despondent. How was I supposed to choose between hot or cold when I'm used to having it all?



Cold won out. If I had to choose between yelping at the cold gel or the prickly red skin that comes with warming creams, I'll just yelp and get it done with.

Of course, this also means that I look absolutely ridiculous as I wander around my flat with a sweatshirt, thick wool socks... and shorts so that the gel can dry on my thighs without getting all over pants. Yes, I realize that I have one odd area exposed and that normal people in a cold flat in cold Scotland would have on proper trousers, but it's either be warm or be less sore. The sore is winning out at the moment.

Note to self: Next time someone asks what they can put in a care package... IcyHot.

Creating Cozy

I live in university housing. As with any university housing it, in general, kind of sucks. On one hand, I live in a great location, in the middle of town close to everything. On the other hand, the house is old, the walls are paper thing, the single mattress is too big for the cot bed frame, and it shakes a bit when the wind blows.

And since it's Scotland, the wind blows a lot.

The bed is at least something I'm attempting to make better. The mattress is lumpy, and it's too big for the frame that we have (which leads to a very interesting time should anyone attempt to lean over to get something off of the floor or the bed side table -- you'd be surprised at the number of *thumps* I've heard with people falling out of bed because they think they have more bed than they actually do) and it just all around sucks. And my flat is cold. The radiator runs whenever it's on, hence why we have to sleep with the bathroom door closed, so I don't turn the one on in my room. So my room is cold.

But I found a solution.



Behold the fleecy underblanket. Now, my American friends, imagine a mattress pad but with fuzzy fleece on it to put under your sheets. It's amazing the difference £10 can make. It's like sleeping on a sheep! A warm, cozy, fuzzy sheep that helps you off to dream land. Don't want to turn on the radiator, or haven't bothered to buy a hot water bottle to cozy up with? No worries! The sheep sheet will make it all worthwhile.

Argos, you aren't Target, but you'll do and you make me happy. And the best part is I can reserve online and then you're ready for me in the store. I do miss wandering through aisles, but beggars can't be choosers, right?

*snuggles in for a warm night*