Farewell 2009

So, 2009 is winding quickly to a close. In fact Glasgow is already in 2010 by now.

Overall, I think it's been a good year for me. There were good times in Glasgow with castles, and friends and singing and the rest. There was victory at last in the immigration hurdles. There was moving back to California and settling with friends here. There was greeting my new "niece" and watching her grow through her first year. There has been a return to the SCA, to craft projects, and a new attempt at writing a novel.

The holidays were good. Ron and I went on a whirlwind tour of the relatives living within easy reach--grandparents, aunts, uncles, some cousins, my dad and stepmom. Ron finally met the last of my close family and renewed acquaintance with others he'd met only briefly years ago. And much tasty food was consumed by all.

There were somber moments too. We also went to lay my late grampa in his final resting place at the new Veteran's Cemetery outside Sacramento. I can still hear his laugh in my head. I hope that never fades.

Our plans for new year's eve are fairly modest: we're baking pizza (I just scorched the first one while writing this post! Oops.) and going to hang out playing board games till midnight when we'll toast in the New Year. Half the house, including the teens are out at various parties, so it's just the two married couples and the baby but it sounds like a fun New Year's for me.

As for the coming year and resolutions and all that...I don't know. I have so many things I'd like to work on in my life. Building a better relationship with God again, working diligently and methodically on my novel, trying to live a healthier lifestyle the more exercise once more, and many more. How would I choose just one? But I certainly have plenty on my plate to work on in 2010.

Happy New Year to you all, or Happy Hogmany if you will! May the New Year find you in health and happiness!

I Survived Year One as an Auntie!

Sky turned one today and we held a party. The party largely celebrated the adults surviving the first year of her life. To that end, the birthday cake said "Happy Birthday Sky" on the top, but something along the lines of "Go Red House Adults" on the side.

I also began rewatching season one of Buffy--one of my birthday presents from a couple weeks ago--during my babysitting shifts today. Great fun. I always marvel at just how cheesy it was in the beginning...and yet, at the same time, I have to marvel at how decent it was with good likable characters and cute witty dialogue right from the beginning even if some of the special effects are a bit laughable now and some of the pacing drags compared to later stuff. And I think Season One had one of the best Big Bads. The Master was classic. He had the niceties and polished language of Season Three's mayor baddie with the evil look of the Season Seven ubervamps.

We've also been having "winter faerie" presents at Red House, a non-religious excuse for holiday fun and tiny little gifts. The winter faerie commissioned me to write a few poems for people for their gifts and it has been challenging but great fun to stoke up the poetic fires again. I used to write poetry prolifically and compulsively back in junior high, but not much since. I took a poetry writing class in college that was fun and produced a few decent pieces. But it's been some time since I had to sit down and write something on a given topic with a deadline. It's been good though, and the two recipients seemed pleased with the results which is the real heart warming part.

Fictiony Goodness and Holiday Chaos

Well I had some fictiony fun the past couple days. I went back over to Martha Wells website to have a look at which issues of Black Gate Magazine I would need to get from back order to get ahold of her short stories featuring Ilias and Gilead...and, behold!, several of them are up on the website for free now! I guess good things do come to those who wait. There was a short story about Kade Carrion too, one of my favorite heroines of all time...though it wasn't exactly a happy tale.

For those of you who don't know, Martha Wells is one of my favorite authors. I've liked or loved everything she's ever written.Element of Fire I read in the free online version because it was out of print (and my attempt to buy a used copy never arrived, much to my dismay). I hate reading lengthy things on computer screens and there are only a few other books I've read that way, but I reread Element of Fire over and over. I finally got my hands on a paper copy (actually Amanda got the paper copy) and it was fun to read it as an actual book. Her heroines tend to be rye, nobody's fools, and look at the world kind of sideways.

Anyway, it was a little tricky trying to read fiction that was tied to a computer with the baby trying to pull down the keyboard, pull apart the computer, steal the mouse or crawl off in search of choking hazards, but she did give me a few good stretches of contentedly playing with her new wooden blocks.

I'm a little jealous of her wooden blocks actually. She has the coolest wooden blocks ever. They came from ThinkGeak.com and feature little pictures with the letter that goes with the scene. T is for Tentacles. H is for Henchmen. D is for Dirigible. And so on. There are some truly fantastic ones though. I think our favorite is K is for Potassium! (Come on, think back to chemistry class...). U is for Underground Lair is also great but you've got to see the visual to get the full effect.

Things are a little extra frantic around here with all the holiday planning. Nearly everyone is clearing out at one time or another though I think we'll all be back for New Year.

I went to see the Nutcracker for the first time this year. It was quite an epic journey, all they way to Folsom via San Fransisco but Tim, a friend of mine, was dancing in it and it was the first time I'd seen him dance. It was very fun. Shiny in the literal as well as figurative sense. And Tim was great (Snow Prince and Russian for those for whom that means anything) especially considering he was filling in at the last minute and had only a couple days to learn his choreography. I would never have guessed he hadn't been rehearsing for months like the rest of them. It went off flawlessly.

Anyway, I got a quick visit with my Grandma and Dad before heading back and crashing in San Fransisco before going the rest of the way home in the morning. It was great to see both the friends and some family that I don't get to see nearly often enough. Sacramento and, even more so, San Fransisco don't seem very far away on the map, especially considering all those years I've spent in Scotland or Georgia (the state, not the country. Yes, people sometimes ask. Ok, usually not Americans, but some people.), yet somehow on a day to day basis it seems a nearly insurmountable distance. Well, maybe now that Ron has his license it will be a bit more surmountable. Though I'm not sure I would inflict SF roads on him just yet.

Anyway, we finally have our holiday plans all worked out and bus tickets bought. If you're one of those wondering where we'll be, give me a call or email. We're going to be going to Reno first, then Sac, then back to Los Gatos (no, for the record, since there seems to be a lot of misconception on the topic, I do not live in Santa Cruz any more. Los Gatos is closer to San Jose though Santa Cruz is still only half an hour away.).

Driviness

Sorry everyone, I've been very negligent of this blog this year. But I've been poked and prodded and so I've decided to have another go at it.

I'm not going to try to backtrack to all my news since my last sparse posts, but let's see, recent news...

The most recent is that yesterday Ron got his driving license. Huzzah! Now the two of us can leave the premises without having to find another adult willing to take us. I have to say, living at Red House is the most remote location I've ever lived--UCSC's campus included--for all that it's fifteen minutes drive from one of the biggest cities in America.

Did you know that San Jose is ranked as the 10th largest (most populous) city in the US? That it ranks above San Francisco now (in 12th place)? Crazy, huh? And it seems even crazier that Atlanta, which always felt huge and sprawling and inescapable, is way down at 33, right above Fresno (35) and Sacramento (36)! And Glasgow, which always felt like a relatively small city for all that I knew it was the largest in Scotland--after all, it didn't have much competition really--is actually about the population of Boston which is 21st in the US ranking. I suppose it just shows how subjective a feel of a place can be. So the smallest place I've ever lived till now was actually Aptos (a tiny 9100 population) while commuting in to Santa Cruz (still small at around 55,000). Los Gatos is technically between the two in size at 29,000 but we're up in the mountains, just a bit too remote from the town proper to actually walk in. Actually, I could walk in, but I'd have to walk along the Old Santa Cruz Hwy which is a bit too hair raising for my taste.

Oh well, it seems duty calls and I'm not to get any further today. Perhaps I'll have time to circle back around to my own live next time. (You see my problem?!)

JPF Awards

So, the results are in, and the Madrigirls won our category of the Just Plain Folks Awards for our album Nevermas. Yay!!

Before you ask, I'm not actually on Nevermas. Nor am I on the new second album. I came just a little to late for one and left a few months too early for the other. Sigh. But it's still my choir and I still think we're great and so I still recommend the albums. I'll have to get ahold of the second one myself now... They recorded it during their tour to Wales. If you ever hear any of the recordings from our tour to Northumbria, though, I'm on those!

No progress on finding a local group to sing with. The church we are thinking of attending has choir starting back up this week, but their rehearsals are Thursdays and therefor conflict with fencing. While I haven't been really gung-ho about restarting fencing, it is one of my few opportunities for some exercise.

Another of the nominees for our category of the JPF awards is based right here in San Jose. But they look very...sober and serious. I'm not sure its quite the thing for me. Anyway, I've probably missed audition season now, since their website said they do it through the summer. And I'd have to commit to the whole concert year and there is still a chance we could pick up and move at any time if Ron gets a job offer in another city.

Speaking of which, the job hunts slog onwards. Ron is applying all over the western US though with a preference for the Bay Area still. I'm applying for anything I can think of in the area. I've started putting up flyers for tutoring, I'm applying for lots of editing jobs and even things like book stores in the area (hey, book discounts would be nice!).

Speculations

I just discovered something I find rather sad. One of my favorite writers resources from long ago in undergrad (and when did that become long ago, I ask you?!) was a forum called Speculations. It felt like they'd been around forever and always would be. They were going strong when I drifted away, and whenever I remembered to pop back by they were still going strong. But now, no. The site still exists and it might even be usable for some networking since they have a set up for Twitter, Livejournal and MyBlogLog. But the lovely forum with all its threads, from the lively debates about current trends in fantasy to the daily writer's posts of how many words you've written today, just to keep you honest--all that is gone, and that I'll miss.

Cinderella at the Ball

Tonight I attended my first Gaskell's Ball. The ball is named for Elizabeth Gaskell, a novelist writing a bit later than Jane Austen such that the industrial revolution was in full swing and factories and workers rights were the ignored topics at the balls instead of Napoleon.

The costume span at the ball started with a spattering of Renaissance costume, picked up steam around the Regency Era and peaked across the American Civil War and English Victorian Eras, tapering off to include some twenties and thirties finery and then going wide to embrace modern formal wear. I, and the whole of my party, fell into the last category except perhaps Tim who actually had a top hat.

I learned a number of things at this ball:

Dancing for hours is hard hard work.

I am out of shape.

Waltzes are scary.

Polkas are scarier.

Mazurkas are scarier still.

Gallops, in contrast, are surprisingly fun and easy to pick up.

A schottische is great fun and while if you're anything like me, you're likely to mess it up regularly, it doesn't really matter and you're unlikely to crash into anyone as long as you try to keep going around the circle and hopping periodically. (Step, step, step, hop. Step, hop, step, hop, step, hop, step, hop.)

Staring soulfully into your partner's eyes during a waltz is not as practical nor as lovely as the novels would have you think. It is a great way to get very dizzy very quickly. "Spotting," as they called it--the art of picking a spot in the direction you are headed and watching it as you turn--is much more practical. Indeed it was the very best thing I learned from the quick and dirty dance lesson at the start. I certainly didn't learn the actual steps to waltzing.

I still maintain that set dances are easier than ballroom dancing. That one I knew already. We danced a slightly strange version of Strip the Willow--sets of about eight that ended up half way in between set-type Strip the Willow as the Scots would do it (as best as I can remember), and an Arcadian Strip the Willow. They danced it at a very survivable pace too which is less frenetic but I can't really mourn since it also left me with fewer bruises. There was another set dance I learned there and then and danced twice in the evening that was also good fun.

The Congress of Vienna seems like it would be great fun. It was certainly beautiful watching it the first time. By the second time Manda had taught us the steps, more or less, and so we hazarded the dance the second time they played it, with mixed success. It is something in between set dancing and more free form dancing. Everyone does the same thing, and you shift through the different sections of the dance, but everyone is dancing around the ballroom in couples, more as you would with a waltz or schottische or the like.

Anyway, it was grand fun and I got to wear one of my fancy dresses I never have occasion to wear. Actually I wore two in a row. Last night we went out to a fancy restaurant and I wore, wait for it, one of my prom dresses. That was very funny. And it was a very lovely night out. It was all very formal and they handed the ladies long stem roses as we left the restaurant. Not my usual world, but a fun one to visit once in a while. That's been true of the whole weekend I suppose.

Monday will be back to the normal round of babysitting and job hunting. And we're starting up a new chore rota too--at least we have a very colorful and artistic chart to go with it. I hope it helps.

Baby Madness

It is a fact being abundantly demonstrated to me of late, that one's IQ drops significantly when one is holding a baby. Perhaps it is because babies are learning things so quickly, that they need to sponge off the thinking power of those around them. I'm not sure why, I just know that it's significantly harder to remember things, plan things, or act intelligently when holding a baby.

Even sleeping babies aren't safe. They emit snorons, making the holder drowsy and prone to staring idly at walls or out windows, contemplating little but their relief that the baby is finally sleeping.

It is amazing how much of one's daily life a baby in the house eats up. For a few weeks there, while "mom" was in summer school, I seemed to be the primary caregiver, having the baby for up to ten hours in a day (sometimes as little as six, but mostly around eight or nine). But even on a "normal" day in Red House when I might only have the baby for three or four hours spread out across the day (although sometimes significantly more even without summer school), it is incredible how hard it is to be productive with the day.

The fact that I'm typing this post with a baby strapped to me seems almost herculean if you ask me.

Blue Skies and Redwoods

Well the epic journey is over. A taxi, two buses, a ruthless check-in desk agent, dozens of security checks, two planes and three airports, and a terminal mixup later, we're in California. I can see the clear blue sky shining through between the redwoods and other trees outside my bedroom window as I type this.

So, we made it.

Maybe I'll chronicle the journey later today. Or maybe I'll just let it fade from memory and be glad that both of us are here at last.

Journey to Essex

Safely arrived in Chelmsford. The train journey with five suitcases, one giant hiking backpack, two normal backpacks, a handbag and a grocery bag with the cab ride (a normal car cab, not a good large black cab mind you) to Queen St, then two changes of trains, first in Edinburgh and then in Peterburgh before finally arriving in Chelmsford, the only one of the four stations not to have baggage carts available, then downstairs and around the corner to another taxi. I have to say though, the ramps and bridges at Peterburgh proved worse than the cart-less Chelmsford since Chelmsford had a lift. Anyway, all of that while ill. And some minor adventures besides. (They put our luggage in the front car and locked it in and forgot about it and the train almost left Peterburgh with us still frantically knocking and waiving our arms...)

All that considered, is it any wonder I took yesterday off to just read and drink fluids. We ventured as far as the grocery store and got me some chicken soup and other food. Anyway, I'm feeling much better today.

Now we're desperately paring down weight and planning travel to Heathrow and trying to meet with friends in the London area and basically working madly again. I'd love to be able to utter (or, rather, type) some witty or profound remarks about this whole process about now, but I guess I'm not that recovered. You'll have to wait and hope for next time.

Feverishly Packing

"Working feverishly" takes on a rather different tone when you're feverishly packing not only because you're racing against a deadline to move out, but also because you literally have a fever. Ok, so it's not much of a fever, but I mean seriously, who needs a sore throat and hot and cold swings and trembling exhaustion when you're trying to pack for an international move? Don't worry, it's just a nasty cold. I'm sure if I had the luxury of "lots of rest and fluids" I'd be doing better already. Instead I get to be a plague rat and spread it to everyone on the train tomorrow. My apologies in advance to the faceless strangers I'll encounter tomorrow!

I'm so looking forward to tomorrow. We're over our weight limits on the suitcases, and we're at the maximum number of suitcases, which doesn't matter tomorrow because we'll be on trains not planes. But the only thing more fun than packing and scrubbing and cleaning with a cold has to be wrestling three suitcases and a backpack each on and off a succession of a taxi, three trains, and then likely another taxi because I don't imagine I'll be in much more shape to face a bus at the end of this journey as at the start of it. We'll have to spend some of our time in England re-juggling stuff in suitcases and then either book and pay for and acquire an extra bag (Oooh, so one of us can have 4 bags and a backpack, doesn't that sound like fun?) or, more likely, send a last box through the post. If we'd been a little more ahead, and I'd been a little less sick and slow, we could have done that at this end, though the bank holiday didn't simplify things any.

Sorry if this post contains more than the average level of whinging (is that how you spell that? To whinge...). Clearly I should give this up, pack the laptop and go catch some sleep.

In fact, I'll go do that now...

Bedlam and Gaming and More Goodbyes

Last night was awesome fun. Three floors of party just for us! Ok, so most of the people there didn't know it was just for us...but who asked them? What's that you say? GUGathons and Bedlam both happen quite regularly? I don't know what you mean.

In case you were wondering, GUGathons are a period of all night gaming in the QM. Technically it only just ended half an hour ago, at noon, but most of the hard core people go home around 7-9am I understand. It's been an age since I lasted nearly that long, so I wouldn't know. However we did make it to the lock-in stage where no one else could come into the QM anymore (3am, we left at 3:30). Neither of us found a role playing game to join in (there being only 3 and 2 of those already filled when we got there) but that was just as well in this case because it meant we could chat and say our goodbyes and whatnot around board games. And it gave me the freedom to head down to Bedlam.

Bedlam is something the QM's been doing for years once a month on a Saturday, though I didn't know about it till a couple years ago. The first floor gets turned into a clubbing atmosphere--not unusual--and the choice of music is goth, industrial and alternative (with a spattering of other loud, hard subgenres). It's awesome! I've never known that music scene (or any music scene) well. One of my 22-yr-old friends was complaining that she was getting old, the music not making sense any more! Well, it's never been a clear picture to me, but however the bands and subgenres and the rest have changed in the eight years since my first exposure (I think we were talking alternative and metal then? And punk perhaps?). So it didn't bother me in the least that there were only two songs the whole night I could lip sync all the lyrics too and one of those a heavier rock cover of "Sweet Dreams."

The other song I could sing along to was a Rammstein song. It was a little surreal dancing for the first time to something that I wrote much of my master's thesis to. I'd chosen Rammstein for writing music because it was high-energy but the lyrics are all in German so I wasn't particularly tempted to think about the lyrics instead of what I was supposed to be writing. But when you listed to something that many times, you're bound to learn the lyrics even if they're in German. Just don't ask what they mean. No really, trust me on this one.

Back to the topic of covers, I think a hard rock/metal/whatever cover of Bedlam Boys would be hysterical and awesome and would get played at every Bedlam. So, any takers?

Transatlantic Moving Preparations Continue

The madness of moving is in full swing. We boxed up most of our stuff last weekend and shipped it away. The place still feels distressingly full though. Most of what is left won't be coming with us: furniture, dishes, lamps, even tools and some of of the electronics. It's a bit of a wrench leaving so much stuff, but it's definitely the practical decision given the rather astronomical costs of shipping (plus the limited space we'll be moving into).

Last night was the first of two leaving parties, the more party-like of the two I think. It was very odd and rather fun having so many worlds collide: friends from Ron's work, GUGS, Madrigirls, and archaeology fun all in one pub together. The only major unrepresented group was church. We started at the Wetherspoons in town across from the dark tower of despair, also known as Ron's former work. Later we migrated to Coopers in the West End. Both are better than most at being able to hold conversations...but the standard isn't very high after all. I think we were all going a little hoarse by the end of the evening from talking so loudly over the music and general clamor.

Tonight we're posting ourselves in the QM to say our goodbyes on one floor or another: the bar, the dance floor for Bedlam, or the all night roleplaying GUGathon being the three choices tonight. Should be good fun. What a party thrown in our honor! ;)

Despite the constant goodbyes over the last couple weeks, the whole process remains rather surreal. That is probably for the best or I'd be weeping more. By the time we're in California, I'll be very excited to be there. But for now, farewells surround me. And Glasgow has been such a part of my life for so long now...

Immigrating!!!

We'll be immigrating to California on May 11!

Finding tickets was a pain as usual, with the added concern of checking the baggage regulations of all potential airlines. For instance US Airways was consistently coming up about $50 under Air Canada's best price...but you have to pay $35 in baggage fees with US Airways for what Air Canada will give you for free which makes it only a $15 savings. So considering Air Canada is more comfortable, more friendly on average, and gives you those nice individual entertainment centers $15 extra starts to sound downright reasonable. Then there were all the times that flights that came up on searches ended up being "not available" when you tried to buy them. I tried all the tricks in the book, looked at changing carriers in, well, all sorts of parts of the world (Iceland came very close to working out...in fact it would have been about the same price as Air Canada but with more hassle. Though it would have been, well, Iceland!) And I tried to get one of the flights with the 8 hour layover in Vancouver. That sounded fun. But no, sold out.

But it's all settled now. We have tickets. We're coming on the 11th. Ready or not, here we come.

Time Lords and Other Heroes of the World

I've been watching lots of the new series of Dr Who at last recently. I've been itching to get my hands on it for years, and now I just watched the first three seasons back to back. First of all, am I the only one who's noticed that if you consider all the doctors, all eleven incarnations, that the Doctor seems to age backwards like the myth of Merlin? I'm fairly certain this is coincidence, a side effect of the producers choosing a more active Doctor after the first couple and then jazzing the Doctor up for the new look of the show from 2005. Though, coincidence or not, I wonder if they'll capitalize on it at some point...though I have some vague recollection of the Doctor being identified with Merlin already.

Anyway, I have to say, I think the show is brilliant. I've actually cried repeatedly as well as laughing out loud and grinning outlandishly. It's had me grabbing my chair knuckle-white with tension. But yeah I have to come back to the crying. I mean, I claim not to like heart wrenching stories, but they really do draw you in, don't they? How Dr Who manages to do that and still stay so often light-hearted I have no idea. The season finales are particular kickers now. (Oh and I'll warn anyone else whose a compulsive watcher of "to be continued" that the finale of season three is three episodes long, not two! So beware when you start that third-to-last episode.)

To avoid spoilers, I suppose I should resist specifics...but wow. Ok, so I still have to go "la la la!" to a lot of the science. But as a drama with sci fi flavor, it's brilliant.

Which brings me to the fact that I'm missing watching Heroes, also a brilliant show that I've shouted out loud at and laughed and cried at (though I usually stare in mute shock or yell rather than crying with Heroes for whatever reasons). The way the heroes and villains, your favorite and most hated characters flip and flip again is agonizing and breathtaking. As with Dr Who I have to go "la la la!" to the problems and paradoxes inherent in practically any plotlines dependent on time travel, let alone repeated time travel, but once again it's a great drama nevertheless.

And since this post has clearly become a TV review, I'll give an honorable mention to True Blood, the first season of which was highly addictive. Vampires in the deep South, a lot of it rather gritty and sordid, but with a handful of highly compelling characters to bring you through it. Though I warn you, they kill off likable characters almost as badly as Heroes (considering there's only been one Season so far).

Well, that's the end of the Soaked Kittens reviews of contemporary supernatural fiction TV shows with the finishing comment that: they've got a Dr Who spinoff show and I want to find it!! (Actually they've got two, but I'm more interested in Torchwood than the kids show the Sarah Jane Adventures even if I did quite like Sarah Jane Smith and even K9).

YAY!!!

We got the visa! Yay!!!!!

*Bounces off humming "We're coming to America" filking the words in her head*

A Change of Key and Tempo

I went back to rehearsal with the Madrigirls last night. I hadn't been efficient enough to email them so I just turned up out of the blue and everyone was happy but surprised to see me.

I realized as we began rehearsing that I'd become rather sloppy in my singing in the last couple months. Music has become an act of desperation with the baby involved. Lyrics didn't matter much, even hitting the right notes didn't matter as much as singing them low loud and continuously till she decided to be lulled out of screaming. Oh, we managed to be pretty sometimes too, usually once she had stopped screaming and we were allowed to back down from utter desperation to just the nervous desire to keep her entertained and distracted. But music has definitely lacked precision for a while now.

Still, it was great to be back and I hope I'll be around long enough to perform with them. Looks like I won't be around long enough to make the next CD though, alas.

Immigration Update:

The latest packet of material has been couriered off to the embassy. They claimed there should be only about a week's turn around on this. Fingers crossed everyone. This could be it, God willing (and bureaucrats willing).

By the way, for any strays out there that may have noticed my piecing together of US and UK visiting and immigration policies in trying to figure things out themselves (bewildering, isn't it?), I will note that this latest border guard told me that I had misunderstood the visitor's visa rules (I spent days researching it! arg!) and that it is in fact limited to six months out of any given twelve on a rolling year (kicks off with your first visitor's visa) and that hop to Europe and back did absolutely nothing in her opinion. Which raises the question of why the border control coming back from Sweeden had let me back in with a new stamp as I'd planned and expected...I must say I'm not entirely convinced that they're all on the same page with this. She claimed that everyone working for them whether for five years or five minutes knew it was 6 months out of 12, but I'm quite certain that's not the answer I've recieved from everyone because I was specifically worried that might be the way it worked and so I looked into it until reassured that it was only six months in one trip. Regardless, she was rather understanding and ended up letting me in but with a different stamp that will raise questions the next few times I enter, so I'll have to stay out for a good long while once I leave from this trip (at least four, maybe six months minimum, depending when I leave this time) or else apply for a spouse visa after all.

I have to say I was rather terrified (and all on top of sleep deprivation from a trans-Atlantic red-eye). I've tried so hard to do everything by the book, and there I was being told I'd grossly broken the rules. Thankfully she was convinced I'd been operating in good faith and she and her boss let me more or less slide through for now. Still, terrifying.

So, yet more reason to hope this latest immigration step is the last. Hopefully the next trip to Britain can really be a quick visit to see friends and castles.

Passages of Life and Death

I can't tell you how many times I've composed things in my head to post on this blog in the last two months. Lying awake at night (or whenever I was sleeping) or pinned under a baby who'd fallen asleep at last or staring out the passenger window watching familiar Californian scenery go by.

A lot has happened to me, to my family, to my friends.

In December, shortly before I got to California, one of my best friends in the world had her first baby. I was coming to stay with them supposedly to help prepare for the baby and to help through the first month or so...since the little girl beat me there I instead was around for her first two months. I've had my hair pulled by teeny tiny fingers, been screamed at till I thought I'd go deaf or mad and had less mentionable things befall me and my dignity. But the moments I'll really remember are the times when she was a little splat fast asleep on my chest or helping her squiggle and squirm her way through attempts at proto-crawling or seeing her get better at meeting my eyes and then finally meeting my eyes and smiling even I was left with the suspicion that gas might have more to do with the smile than me at this stage.

I'm really not sure how two parents alone manage, and I am filled with awe and respect for single parents muddling along on their own. I'm really convinced now that it takes a village to raise a child and at times our unusually large "village" of people at Red House seemed too small to handle the job.

While looking the challenges in the face has to some degree soothed my terrors of motherhood, I find myself, on balance, left with more resolve than ever not to enter into those challenges (and terrors) without a good "village" surrounding me.

Just as I was being exposed to the mystery of new life, a few days after getting to California, I was faced with death as well. My Grandpa, my father's father, died not long after Christmas. I am sorry I didn't get a chance to see him again, very sorry. But I am also immeasurably glad that I was able to go to the funeral. For one thing it was simply important to be with the rest of my family at the time--for me and for them I expect. But the service was beautiful and a good way to say goodbye. And best of all, before, during and after the service people spoke about him, giving me insights into his life I hadn't had before.

I'd always seen my Grandpa as my Grandpa: sometimes gruff, always generous, usually to be found either working away at his extensive garden (once upon a time I used to pick the strawberries for him where they grew up behind bushes in hard to reach places) or else fooling around on his computer (he introduced me to solitaire, real and computerized, to tetris, to more transitory games now long gone). He and my Grandma travelled all over the place and would send me postcards from all over the world.

But people came from all over California and from other states as well to speak at his funeral. And his own kids dug through his stuff and found awards and metals we hadn't been fully aware of. A picture emerged of my Grandpa as a pilot and a hero, flying rescue missions and the like in Vietnam. A story of him flying with a baby on his lap rather than leave it behind because the plane was full of evacuees and there was no more room. A funny story about him telling one of the "damn second leutenants" to sit on his flack jacket rather than wearing it because the sides of the plane were armored and any shooting would come from below and what parts of him were more important for him to keep anyway? Stories from the medal certificates of making three tries at a night landing with no lights, under fire, to evacuate people there. Little stories and big.

It's hard to believe he's gone sometimes. I can picture him so vividly, his laugh, his walk. I can hear the intonations in his voice as he speaks. I've long known that I was very priveledged to have such a wealth of grandparents. I had all four growing up, all four till now, and I even aquired some step-grandparents along the way through the remarriages of both my parents, though they are by and large more distant figures (with the possible exception of Grams who adopted me as a grandkid on sight). I've had a wealth of grandparents. But it's still hard to say goodby to one, perhaps all the more so because I knew him so well. It's definately a price worth paying though.

Grandpa, my most loyal reader, I'll miss you.

Yes, these two months have definately been a time for a lot of emotional upheaval, a lot of thoughts and contemplations. Now I'm back in Britain--I'll skim past the adventures of achieving that. Why I shouldn't be able to post about all this till I'd left again, I'm not sure. Maybe it was just the demands of baby duty; I wasn't online much at all with all the daily demands of life there. But maybe I needed a bit of distance as well before I could distill this to a simple post.