Day 71: Tomato, Tomato

Tonight on my way to work (I love the walk from school to work, it's so pleasant), as I was walking through the neighborhood, I got to the point where I am at the highest elevation of the walk and from atop the hill I can see over a lot of the city and out towards the harbor and the moon was still pretty low in the sky, and it just looked really bright and beautiful.

But it was weird, as I got to the top of the hill, I felt like I could see the moon beams lighting on my home across the ocean. It immediately sounded in my mind like the cliche you hear in movies when two lovers speak about sharing the same sky so they don't feel so far from each other, and I'm sure I've said something similar to people before, too. But this time it felt real; the sky was actually connecting me to those thousands of miles away. If I had a periscope or something, I could have held it up and through it seen my family, my friends by the light of the moon that hadn't yet risen for them.

The song that goes "tomato, tomahto, potato, potahto, let's call the whole thing off" always seemed like just a joke to me, because no one REALLY pronounced tomato like "toMAHtoe." But it is no joke. Yesterday I was host at my restaurant and the soup of the day was "Cream of Tomato," and you won't believe how many comments I got for my pronunciation. But I also got four US dollars when one guy found out I was American--his "leftovers"--I'll take it.

some of MY leftovers ;)

Last week was a school fail, since I was planning and preparing for Thanksgiving and then having Thanksgiving and then "continuing my Thanksgiving break". This week I tried to be a better student. I only skipped one day...But it was an accident! And in my defense, I spent the day working on coursework anyways.
Also in the news for this week: I get paid for the first time tomorrow (slash midnight tonight). I was given the greatest of early Christmas presents by my dear friend Taylor Cathey--a Premium subscription to Spotify for a month, so I can freely listen to music and sing all the Christmas carols I could ever want to sing. I am going on a retreat for this weekend to somewhere like 4 hours from here, closer to the west coast of Scotland. I left work sick tonight after eating some (apparently)tainted, vegetable cuisine they had in the staff room. Life.

Quote of the day (from the movie Amazing Grace that I watched a couple weeks ago with some friends): William Wilberforce: No one of our age has ever taken power.

Pitt the Younger: Which is why we're too young to realize certain things are impossible. Which is why we will do them anyway.

a bridge on my walk from work to my apartment

a church on my walk from work to my apartment

Song of the day: Maybe Tonight-Margaret Durante (Thanks, Laurel)

Day 65: A Thanksgiving Post

my turkey brining the day and night before.

A wise woman once told me that I probably wouldn't realize that I was thousands of miles from home, or what I was doing there, or that I am stuck here for a lot longer until somewhere in the middle of November. (She was right.)
Things are starting to hit me. It's probably because one of the best holidays was just celebrated, and it happens to be American, and it happens to be about reflecting on what you are thankful for and for me a lot of those things happen to be back across the ocean.
I will list just a few things I am truly thankful for:
Country music
Warm covers
Functional legs
International friends that were willing to share a Thanksgiving feast with me and make the evening great
Family back home
Having people an ocean away that I care about enough to miss
Being American
& Thanksgiving leftovers.

So yeah, it's November, and I've been here for over 2 months! That's over 1/6 of my Aberdeen adventure over. But, even though I am not one to get homesick, there's a little baby pit in my stomach that longs to be with all those people back home, doing the things we'd usually be doing. (Black Friday shopping with Sam and Katie--scoring big deals and having big laughs, walking on the boardwalk and singing through the 12 days of Christmas with Taylor while eating ice cream cones even though it's too cold outside, hanging out with my parents and Johnny boy and eating my mom's homecookin', sleeping in my own bed, etc.)
But then it hits me, if I  had stayed home and not come to Aberdeen, it would have meant I would have made some other sort of life plan, and it wouldn't be the same anyways. I wouldn't just be a college kid coming home for Thanksgiving break. I might be a real person, contributing to the world as a working adult (writing that out makes me realize why I decided to do this instead). Where would I be IF? Weird. An unanswerable question, though.

Also, I decided I want to work for the National Park Service.


And, to end on a more important note, I've decided I can't choose just one country singer to be my husband. Because we have the heartthrob, Tim McGraw, an easy first pick. But there's also Josh Turner, whose perfect voice could melt the heart of Josef Stalin. Then I'm like, CRAP, what about cutie blue eye half smile baby Luke Bryan? And if you figure in the fact that a beard and a love for the beach can get me every time, plus writing lyrics that sing to my soul doesn't hurt, you also have to throw Zac Brown into the game.
Not choosing any one of them is the only logical thing to do. So I'll have them all, Thanks.
Don't tell their wives.

just two pics from my little walk/hike with the Carrolls last weekend.

Day 53: Carrying Your Love With Me

by George Strait. is playing right now. and it is just the sweetest of songs. I miss country music. Praise God for Grooveshark.

Anyways,

Maybe it's the glass of red wine I had tonight, or maybe it really is the fact that there is so much good in my life and that I have been holding the hand of the greatest Man all day today, but whatever the reason, my insides are numb and I don't even know how to process.

My day started with a 10-mile run, and I swear it was the best run of my life. I saw great things, felt great while seeing them, and embraced the Aberdonian sun on my face and the warm 45 degree weather on my bare arms and legs. 

I showered and ate and skyped Katie and cleaned my room before I was picked up by Kyli, who's husband and her had invited me to their house for the evening, to dine with them and their family. It was set up through something I had signed weeks ago at the RGU International Student Fair, saying that I was interested in being contacted by a host family. Rob and Kyli are a married couple with two children, Cassidy and Luke, 13 and 10, and one brown dog, Ginger, from Anchorage, Alaska. They've been here for a year for Rob's job. It was a wonderful visit with wonderful conversation and I LOVED being in a house. I was JUST speaking to friends about how I missed the comfort of being in a house, since I haven't been in one since I've been in Aberdeen (sometimes it's just the little answered prayers that make life so amazing).

The lasagna dinner was delicious, as was the birthday cake that followed, to celebrate Rob turning 37 tomorrow.

We talked a lot about the funny/surprising differences between America and here, and another girl, Carmen, from Romania, was also there, so she threw in some great Romanian perspectives.

From the whole over-4-hour visit, the best thing was watching Rob and Kyli interact with each other and interact with their children. It was a waterfall of love within that house, and it literally made my heart swell. I was so happy happy happy to see a home so full of love and respect and the normal kid-parent confrontations and challenges. 

It was the simple things, like hearing Rob read out the "You're the best, funnest, coolest daddy" card given to him by his kids while they were arguing in the background over the fact that Luke wanted the card to only be from him, and how after we had opened presents and cards and eaten cake and the kids had left the room and we were just talking, Rob stood up randomly and suddenly and stepped over to his wife, lifted her chin, and kissed her on her lips, sweetly, seemingly in the middle of the conversation, then thanked her for everything and she responded in a smile and "You're welcome, anything for you." And it wasn't mushy, and it wasn't weepy, and it wasn't awkward, and I didn't feel like I shouldn't be watching. It was just real and honest; she really meant it and so did he, and I could have bursted in that moment.

I have so many blessings in so many forms in my life and to list all of the ones that I am thinking of today and why they are great would take far too long and far too many words. I love families and happy marriages and dogs and America and Dads and wine and all food. But I will leave it at that for now and I will fall asleep in the hands of the One who pursues my heart everyday, who loves me so deeply I can't even understand, and who runs/walks/stands beside me at all moments, when I'm at my weakest and when I feel like I'm standing on top of the world. Thanks, Jesus, for answering my call and holding my hand all day.

Day 48: Election Day

I wish I could be home in America on this big day for my country. I'm praying for all of you.
There is so much I could say on the election, but I won't.

I can't believe I've been over here for 48 days.
Here are some trivial opinions I have formed on certain things:

I like the candy
I don't like the ice cream
I like haggis
I don't like the bacon
I don't like the currency
(or the exchange rate)
I do like that I will convert pounds to dollars at the end of the year when I go home, though ($$$)
I like my courses alright
I don't like my campus

And now here is an analogy I'd like to share with you:

Praying is like blowing snot rockets while jogging--
You start off never doing it, it's not even on your mind, then one day your nose is super runny and you don't know what to do about it, so after suffering through the snot and wiping your nose on your own sleeve for a while, you check to make sure absolutely no one is around, and then you engage the rocket. You feel so relieved. Then the next time you have a runny nose, it is the first thing you think to do, but again, you check to make sure no one is around, and then you go for it. As this goes on you begin to see that snot rockets are the best way to cure the runny-jogger's nose, and the sleeve isn't an option anymore, so, you start to do it more freely; you still make sure no one is looking your way, but you don't need the streets to be completely clear anymore. Your comfort with the act continues to grow, and soon you realize just how vital this act is, that you barely hesitate in doing it; at the first sight of a sniffle, your finger is poised to close one nostril. The snot rocketting becomes enjoyable, a pleasure, fun, even, and as long as someone won't be directly assaulted by the rocket you stop caring who is watching you, or who knows you are blowing snot rockets. After all, it's a runner's life, and you gotta keep yourself able to breathe somehow.