'A time to mourn', 'a time to grow'...

It’s 8:06 p.m. Thursday October 6, 2011.  As I am still convalescing a little bit following my recent surgery, and as A is out this evening, I am left with some serious time alone with my thoughts. 

Currently, most of the Northwest coast of England and essentially Cumbria is under a ‘severe weather’ warning.  In actuality we are experiencing gales and winds ranging from 36 mph with gusts up to 63 mph.  The winds are howling, the sky is dark, and the sea is frothing and churning.  None of this is the point of this blog.   However, the winds have got me thinking about change (e.g. the ‘winds of change’). 

Exactly one year ago today, I arrived in the UK to start my new life.  Exactly one year ago yesterday, I departed my old life, my family, and my dear friends … across currents high and low, to bravely face a change that no amount of careful planning can fully prepare one for. 

Several of my friends back ‘home’ also happen to be former work colleagues.  This is bound to happen when one works for the same company for 16 years, with ten of those years in a certain division of said company.  By the time I left, there were a small handful of people who had been there as long or longer than I, and others who hadn’t, but whom I had the pleasure and privilege of working alongside for a good number of years nonetheless.  When investing so much time in a career and with the same people every day, the lines between co-workers and friends tend to blur, and those same faces start to resemble a second family of sorts.  

Ironically, yesterday, on the one year anniversary of significant change, I received some awful news from home.  Due to unsurprising changes in the economy (the world over, frankly), the company is making sweeping changes and closing the doors on a place I spent more hours and more years than I care to recount.  These changes mean that people I spent a lot of years with, formed friendships with, and care dearly about, are all about to become scattered to the four winds.  Some will relocate, and some will stay and seek different opportunities.  Only two things are certain:  1) All of them are hurting.  2) Things will never be the same. 

To quote my father upon telling him the news, he said to me ‘It’s like hearing your childhood home has burned down while you were away at college’ (University in Britspeak).  That is exactly how I feel. 

It is agonizing to know what they (and really countless people the world over, as this is not a unique story in these times) are now facing, and to be so helpless to do anything very tangible to help or ease their fears or sadness.  Of course they are in my thoughts and very much on my mind.  Of course I am there for each of them should they want or need anything at all that I can give.  Of course I have faith in their talents and abilities, their work ethic and amazing spirit.  We have weathered a lot of change through the years together, and I believe most or all will land on their feet somehow. 

While I retain optimism generally, it doesn’t take away the pure pain and grief at the disbanding of the particular group of people that made up such a big part of my life and time in the past decade.  Although the work we did wasn’t the easiest, the sense of camaraderie was bar none.  Work aside, we have been there for each other through divorces, marriages, births, deaths, squabbles, politics, massive changes, and some pretty great nights out along the way.  Like family, we weren’t perfect, we were sometimes dysfunctional, but we showed up, and when it counted … we had each other’s backs. 

This is one group of people I will spend the rest of my days being so happy and honored to have been a part of, and which I will never, ever forget. 

Though winds and change and time may keep us apart … when it counts …  I’ll still be there for you.  God Bless. 

Year In Review

It’s hard to believe it’s been nearly a year since I packed up my life as I knew it into six bulging suitcases and made the move across the Atlantic … for better and for worse! 

No matter how much one prepares for such a life change, (through careful research and reflection, and other means), one simply cannot know what will matter in a year’s time and what will not, and what sorts of things one will experience and learn. 

Here are a few gems for your reading pleasure:

For a start, there are my six suitcases.  When one is faced with the totality of one’s belongings and choosing what to pack for an overseas move, one has to prioritize!  At the time, it seems that the bulk of my wardrobe (clothing, coats, shoes) and toiletries won out over most other things.  Don’t get me started on the toiletries … one would have thought I was moving to a desert island with NO SHOPPING.  Ever.  Again.  However, when supplies of some of my favorite products from the USA started to dwindle, and I realized it would still be some time before I returned for a "shopportunity" … er… visit,  it’s amazing how quickly I found suitable replacements for said items amongst UK brands and shops.   Granted, there are the odd items that I will stubbornly and steadfastly insist upon (and thusly go to great lengths to procure online or with the help of friends or adequate stocking up on subsequent trips back).  Still, if I’d researched replacements in advance, think of the space I could have allotted other things in those suitcases! 

Not to mention the sad fact that I lost a measure of that clothing through a horrible washing machine incident! 

Additionally, I reflect back on the myriad of items I stored with the intent of shipping to the UK (literally in a container on a ship) one day.  While some of the items remain justified, I suspect that there will be a fair number of items I will dispatch with and lament the savings we could have incurred with a smaller storage unit. 

Then there was The Great Teakettle Debate.  I can’t believe I’m saying this, but A was right.   Yes, A, you have that in writing (this time).  I don’t miss my old fashioned teakettle, and am pleased with the speed of our electric kettle (240 volts versus 110).  I concede on this point only because one can buy beautiful kettles to rival the stove-top ones, and the speed of tea preparation is a bonus! 

Here are a few things I still miss (besides the obvious family and friends in the States), in no particular order:

• Not having to pack my own groceries.  (More on that shortly). 

• Dill pickles.  I’m sorry to report that DILL pickles do NOT mean including sugar in the ingredients.  If you sweeten them, they are SWEET pickles!  I have yet to find ANY truly dill (non-sweet) pickles in the UK shops.  Even the ones labeled dill are sweet.  As someone who loathes sweet pickles, can I just say… yuck! 

• Ranch salad dressing.  Proper bleu cheese salad dressing.  Really any very good salad dressing.  On that subject, it is very difficult to come by ‘dressed’ salads in restaurants as well.  In contrast, I know that at least one of my British friends feels disheartened about all the ‘dressed’ salads in the USA. 

• Certain clothing shops.  Of course they do have clothing here in the UK … and indoor plumbing … and electricity…

• Corn-fed Kansas beef.   Tabling all discussions of whether it’s actually good for you, from where I sit there is none better tasting.  (Yes, sometimes we are a product of our own cultural relativism). 

• Mexican food.  It barely exists in the UK and I have yet to find any salsa (again like the pickles) that isn’t a bit sweet, or too vinegar-y.  Ick. 

• Wide open spaces.  They do have those here too, and they are quite beautiful … just not in towns, at shops, parking lots (car parks), or in most houses.  The parking situation has not been the easiest for me to get used to (considering that I’m from Kansas where one rarely needs to master parallel parking).  I will add that I’m impressed with the level of negotiation that takes place (successfully, I might add) between courteous drivers with space at a premium. 

Here are a few things I may never learn:

• I am still nearly always getting in on the wrong side of the car, regardless of whether I am the intended driver or passenger.  I suspect I will always do this.  Now that I am actually driving some, I can now fake it a bit with my husband.  When approaching the driver’s door when I meant for him to drive and he asks ‘Are you driving’ I can now give him a confident ‘yes’! 

• I still stand around in grocery shops waiting for checker or a helper to bag my groceries, leading to a rather awkward pause (and an embarrassed husband)... 

• I may learn proper English, but may not always remember to use it in every setting.  I would, however, advise one not to discuss what pair of ‘pants’ one intends to wear! 

Lastly, here are a few things I’ve learned (some trite but no less true):

• Hot tea makes (nearly) everything better.  

• It rains a lot in Cumbria, and so far I don’t mind it that much and haven’t yet acquired webbed feet. 

• In medical facilities, the décor generally may be faded or antiquated.  The care generally is not. 

• Life is what you make of it (and what you put into it)

In matters of life, there are always more important things...

Recap

I am ashamed to realize how long it's been since I last posted here.  Just over four months.  I'm sure any audience I had has long packed up and moved on ... and rightfully so. 

Nonetheless, I am stating my intent to resume this blog, as writing is as much for the writer as it is for the reader.

What can I share in recap of the past four months?  I could make all sorts of excuses for not posting, but then they would merely be excuses.  It's certainly been a chapter with considerable ups and downs.

On a high note:

Summer was lovely in Cumbria.  There are those who might complain it was too cool but I have loved every minute of the weather.  Coming from Kansas, where this summer they experienced record breaking triple digit heat for over 50 days, I was most grateful to keep cool in temperatures ranging from 60s to occasional 70s.  I even managed to get a sunburn one afternoon!

I enjoyed a journey to Hilltop Farm ... the home of Beatrix Potter.  For those who don't know, she was an extraordinary woman ... much more than the wonderful author she is best known as.  As a Conservationist, she bought quite a lot of land in the beautiful section of Lake District she called home, and left it to the National Trust upon her departure.  For me, this visit was extra-special, as I have fond childhood memories of my grandmother and mother reading Peter Rabbit tales and it was lovely to realize that even the illustrations in those books were of Ms. Potter's actual home and farm which have been lovingly preserved to this day.

I am still working on mastering driving here in the UK.  I have finally turned a corner in my confidence (I actually have a measure of it now), but still struggle with some of the maneuvers and a few of the required procedures (such as looking certain places in a certain order at certain times when my long experience and natural habits wish to override or do things in a different order!).  I have confidently tackled narrow roads and negotiation of traffic jams including but not limited to oncoming cars on roads wide enough for one, sheep, cattle, cyclists, pedestrians and sometimes all at once.  Driving in Cumbria is never dull!  

I've met some wonderful people (some of whom are other expats to whom I will be forever grateful for reaching out in this transitional time). Through my husband's involvement in politics, I had the distinct honor of attending an event where I was able to meet the British Prime Minister, David Cameron. 

In all, I'm keeping busy enough ... a far cry from my first harsh winter here before driving and knowing very many people!

With the good, as with much in life, there is always some not-so-good.  Unfortunately, I have suffered some set-backs in my health, and am facing another surgery.  Nothing I want to go into detail about, but I am hoping that time will enable me to improve overall so I can fully embrace this amazing journey.   On the up-side, perhaps having to spend some time recovering will enable me to keep in better touch with folks back 'home', and to write more!


If you are reading this, thank you for hanging in there with me.  As we are fast approaching one year since my arrival in the UK, I can only wonder at how it has flown by, and what a difference a year can make in a life.

Watch this space, and see you soon! 

A is for 'Drive', and other tales

It’s been awhile since I’ve blogged, so perhaps it’s time to generally ‘catch up’.  It’s been a crazy, difficult, terrible, and wonderful Spring.  Isn’t life just like that? 

Since the winter thaw, our lives have been largely consumed with A’s bid for re-election to the council, a bout of illness, and perhaps most significantly, my driving. 

After allowing myself to develop a bit of a phobia about driving here, I took the plunge and bought a car!  (Note: I bought said car before I really even tried driving much).  I figured buying a car would magically inspire me to get moving. It did and it didn’t.  There are people (A for example) who can go to a country and just automatically start driving on the opposite side of the road with new rules, signs, and conditions with no problem.   Unfortunately I seem to be lacking that application in the brain as well as the built-in GPS that some seem to possess.  Being a hopeless navigator doesn’t help matters.  Nonetheless, I have steeled myself and am getting on with it.  

Being a Kansas gal, I’m used to flat terrain, long and straight horizons, a lack of need for parallel parking, wide roads and generally easy driving.  I’ve swapped these for hills (sometimes with drop-offs), narrow and bendy roads, tight squeezes, and a definite lack of parking.  To the credit of folks here who live with roads not originally designed for automobile traffic, people are generally calm, courteous, and tend to just work things out between themselves in a very civilized civilised manner. 

My first priority was to find an automatic transmission when buying a car.  These are rather rare and it wasn’t easy locating one that met all my other requirements in a car.  In the end, I compromised and settled on a ‘semi-automatic’.  It’s supposed to have the ‘best of both’, with what looks like a ‘stick shift’ that enables one to ‘shift’ between drive, neutral, and reverse, or shift between gears albeit sans clutch.  Much to my chagrin and eventual amusement, I’ve come to realize a few things:

1. A is for Drive.  (A is for Drive???!).  Actually, A is probably for ‘automatic’ but it did give me some pause and took some getting used to.   
2. There is no gear for ‘Park’!  One must park in either neutral or reverse (wise when parked on the decline of a very steep hill).    
3. The car actually rolls backwards when stopped on a steep incline.  This is not something that people who drive automatics ever have to worry about.  I had no idea what to do the first time this happened to me and thankfully there wasn’t a car behind me.  Eventually (and thankfully), someone taught me how to use the emergency brake to my advantage like normal people who drive manuals do.    
4. When cold and not warmed up, the car seems to jerk dramatically when driving down the steep hill from our house.  It’s like it fights me and hates ‘coasting’.  (Or maybe it hates a hopelessly Midwestern American fiercely old-school automatic driver complaining about it).
5. No matter how good a marriage may be, not all husbands can teach their wives how to drive without argument.

In all, I still have miles to go before I’m ready to sit the driving test here, but have made what for me are great strides.  I am much more comfortable on the roads now generally, though still have a lot of procedures, navigation issues, and kinks to work out.

As for Spring, like any season it suits Cumbria.  It’s a beautiful time of year and I’m still happy to be here. 

The Gaffe (that went down in marital history)

Newlywed nearly 6 months now, I nonetheless clearly have wet feet, and not the kind I can blame on the Cumbrian weather.  I sincerely hope to find out I’m not the only one in history who has done a really bird-brained thing causing her dear husband much angst. 

It’s the stuff nightmares are made of.  You know the kind … where you turn up somewhere public only to realize you are in your housecoat or something similar. 

During the course of our relationship, A and I have had the pleasure of attending together a few formal or semi-formal charity events, dinners, balls, etc.  A has been involved in these for years due to his political participation and elected office.  (I, on the other hand, had attended exactly two Mayor’s Charity balls, a Mayor’s inaugural ball, and a Burn’s Supper).  Naturally I presumed that four such events an expert makes, so I thought I knew the drill. 

Some weeks ago, A and I received an invitation to a dinner and auction held at a castle to benefit the charity of the High Sheriff of Cumbria.  I knew from a prior visit that this was a lovely setting, and a highly esteemed but down to earth family who has lived in the castle and community for many generations, who do a lot of good for the area and people.  Needless to say we were looking forward to the evening. 

As per instructions, I placed our meal selection orders in advance of the event, and received a letter with confirmation cards in return.  In an effort to be ultra-efficient, I placed the cards into my evening bag so that we wouldn’t forget to bring them, and promptly forgot about them until the evening arrived.  I had intended to mention the letter and cards to A on the day they arrived in the post, but due to one distraction or another I failed to do so.  Ordinarily, that wouldn’t have been an issue, as to my cursory examination, the letter and cards merely appeared to be confirmation and meal selection cards which would be needed on the evening, so in that respect I was correct to set them aside where I wouldn’t forget them.  My error was in failing to turn the cards over to reveal two words in small print that would unfortunately lead to much consternation.  My further error, then, was forgetting to mention them to A so he never had a chance to see these two little words either. 

Black tie.

A and I thus dressed as we always do for charity dinners, and A donned a suit and tie.  We were happily en route and nearly to the event (which was some distance from home) when I pulled the cards out of my evening bag to show to A and to my horror noticed the reverse side and the dress code.   Understandably, this led to a bit of drama and A’s mortification.   I apologized ten different ways and tried to reassure poor A that surely others will have overlooked this and will turn up in suits and ties.  I wasn’t exactly wearing a ball gown either, though I was dressed nicely and would blend in far more easily.  Unfortunately A really was the only one who turned up in a mere suit and tie.  Through no fault of his own, he felt rather self-conscious (understatement) and probably wasn’t too happy with me.  It didn’t help that one of his colleagues upon greeting us had quite a good laugh at him.   

In the end, these things don’t matter as much as we think they do in the moment, and a great time was had by all.  I imagine that for A the first twenty minutes felt like he had turned up in The Emperor’s New Clothes, and I felt oh so bad for causing it.  It was my mistake, so it should have been me who suffered for it.  As I had hoped, ultimately no one really minded and it was a very nice evening.  I even won a lake cruise in the raffle, which I hope will go some distance toward making amends. 

I hope someday A will be able to have a laugh about this.  He says he will forgive me in 2015, but I did ask him if he could make it sooner and he said he’d try.  

We did have a lovely nighttime stroll afterwards as our coach was turning back into a pumpkin…

Lifting Fog

Having achieved a solid week of uninterrupted dry and sunny days in Cumbria (a feat in itself apparently this time of year!), the rain has returned, but with it, a fresh perspective. 

Being cooped up this long winter with inclement weather and time to think (and being dependent upon A for transportation) has certainly bred more than a few moments of self-doubt. Will I ever learn my way around or be comfortable driving here?  Will I really be able to find new friendships, a niche, a life here?  This kind of speculative diffidence is an easy trap to fall into when a formerly independent career girl finds herself essentially marooned for the winter in a cold, damp, and foreign land.  However, just as winter always gives way to spring, so in time my own fog eventually lifts. 

From what I’ve gleaned from others who have trodden this path before, it seems this trail contains well-defined pitfalls and known difficulties, but eventually leads to a point where things start to ‘click’ and life makes sense again.

While I haven’t solved all of my aforementioned riddles concerning driving, friendships, et al, and have miles to go before I do, I can suddenly see the possibilities and have ventured a little further up the road.  As spring is ushered in, the fields are filling with lambs and my calendar is filling with more activity.  I’m meeting new people, nurturing existing friendships, soon signing up for driving lessons for improved mobility, and more. 

Instead of hurrying to check the hurdles off the list ... now that I can see for miles, I’m going to relish the journey there and enhance it as I go. 

3 Hours from Everywhere

The upside of small town or country life is that it affords one the freedom from citified hustle and bustle, and often inspiring views. However, when the simple life gives way occasionally to a former city-dweller's need for some serious retail therapy, or an obligatory errand, a road trip is at hand.  

We often travel to Scotland to visit A's family and/or friends, and we enjoy various weekend day-trips which enable me to see more of the country.  Most of the journeys we make are approximately 3 hours in duration, with the added bonus that this night owl must rise at 5:00 a.m. and hit the road dressed and fed by 6:00 a.m., snoozing while A misses out on the worst of the traffic.  When the sun rises, the trek usually becomes more interesting as beautiful vistas unfold before my bleary eyes.  Sometimes, I even remember to bring my camera.  

Early last week, I received a letter which soon necessitated yet another mission of the compulsory variety.  In fact, I had a time-sensitive and official errand to attend to and was given a choice of venues in which to accomplish it.  A careful examination of the options revealed unsurprisingly that each selection entailed ... you guessed it ... another 3 hour car ride.  

A and I chose a location which would allow the most scenic views en route, and enable me to further explore the region after the task was concluded.  As we had recently enjoyed a small spate of sunshine, it never occurred to us to check the weather.  We consequently enjoyed heavy snow on the way, which eventually gave way to spots of greening pasture, mist, then cold rain.  Nonetheless, we made the most of the day, which included a gray but lovely university town, a stroll through an outdoor market, and culminating in a side-trip to a large indoor mall.  

Although multiple 3 hour driving trips in a month are exhausting, I wouldn't trade our Cumbrian life for anything.  

We may be 3 hours from many larger locales, but we have unfettered access to friendly folk, lovely country, and a less-harried life. 

Traffic Jam

As excuses for being late go, I'm sure we've all heard (or used) a few dandies in our lifetime.  However, this Kansas girl wasn't prepared for the unexpected delay encountered on Saturday morning en route to an appointment some miles from home.  

A and I were tooling along the A-road, winding through villages and countryside with little time to spare, when we noticed a couple of sheep in the road.  We slowed, then stopped as we saw quite a number more on a leisurely stroll to join the first two.  Soon, the entire road was clogged with Cumbrian sheep enjoying their morning social.  

There was nothing for us to do but gawk, and wait it out.  It appears that the herd had formed an escape committee which gallantly led the way out from their captivity, but upon encountering the main road sheepishly realized there was no grass or water source, and a few big, smelly metallic beings blocking further exploration.  The committee thus conferred for quite some time, came to a vote, and ultimately decided this escape was for the dogs and that maybe home wasn't so bad after all.   In the end, they slowly headed for greener pasture.  

Although this may be a common occurrence in these parts, it was a novel experience for me.  I rather enjoyed recounting it later.  

As excuses go, in my books, it's a bit more colorful than 'traffic was bad'...

A bit of 'humour'

I've long thought A would make a fantastic stand-up comedian.  Or at the least, he could be writing material for one.  At the risk of self-deprecating humor (humour) (and too much information), A said something so funny this morning that I couldn't resist sharing.  A bit of backstory first, if you will.

Last night, I was admittedly a bit of a mother hen.  Following a bout of a respiratory virus in which A had lost his voice and suffered some congestion, I became concerned when I perceived that A had seemed to stop breathing while sleeping.   (However, a change of position seemed to remedy this to my satisfaction and it was probably not real cause for alarm). 

Upon relaying this to A this morning, he quipped:

"My wife's gotten so bored with her own illnesses she's started inventing new ones ... for me.  She's a hypochondriac by proxy". 

Remembrances

It's been ages since I've written anything.  Not for lack of ideas, but rather lacking impetus to explore some of the thoughts and feelings which have been condensing lately on the window pane of my mind.  I think I've been trying too hard to keep things upbeat or funny with each new blog entry, but life isn't like that.  

My first Christmas abroad has now passed, and along with it my reluctance to open up about the experience lest it somehow lessen the glow of A and I's first Christmas together as man and wife.  In fact, Christmas brought with it a multitude of moods and juxtapositions which were difficult to catalogue. 

In fairness, I was ill, which didn't exactly motivate me to express myself beyond the tissue box and my best attempt at merriment in spite of it.  There were definitely many reasons to smile ... it wasn't an exercise in complete melancholy.  It was a time of starting new traditions, and relishing the fact that A and I can now spend all our Christmases together with an ocean no longer between us.  

However, the lead up to the Christmas season did bring with it an unexpected ache.  There is something about completely changing the landscape of one's life that dredges up memories and feelings once buried.  I know I can't be alone in this.  While I expected to have moments of intensely missing my family and friends and certain shared traditions (and I did at that); what confused me was the depth of the nostalgia that crept in and caught my heart so firmly.  A wistful yearning for winters long past, grandparents and other departed loved ones, and exquisitely sweet memories which we can never re-live, other than in the soft-focus of our remembrances.  These things I do more than carry with me as I move forward ... they are intricately and inextricably woven into my very being.  Upon discussing this with a friend who also lives abroad, I came to understand that these sentiments demand acknowledgment.  She said something to me that resonated:

"It's not clinging to the past.  Rather honoring it."

That is what I intend to do.  As I move forward into this incredible life, I will dance with the memories, and carve out new ones.  I will smile at what was, and embrace what is.  It is how life should be... how it is.  

Perhaps that is the best gift of the season.  We are shaped by our experiences.  Those I love have given me the tools to make the most ... of today.