Don’t know what day it is

Navigating a group of 5 through activities and meals is not a relaxing vacation. The youngest and the oldest of the group keep needing to rest and have refreshments, they don’t want to climb anything, and they keep veering off into thrift stores or playgrounds. KEEP UP, WE HAVE AN AGENDA.

I have given up with the agendas, now I just get everyone to a single destination and follow them around with a water bottle and snacks. Historic site. Downtown. Deer Centre. Today we are going to find the art museum in Dundee. Hold me in your thoughts.

It is beautiful, though. The raptor demonstration at the Scottish Deer Centre was amazing, the birds flew free and brushed their wings on your head as they passed. The wind is cold, and we are zipped up in warm jackets. We ate the best cheese we’ve ever had at the cheesemonger’s shop. We met with friends and had lunch at the famous old golf course like fancy people. The groceries are affordable, the food is fresh, the parks are full of children, and the transit is safe. I’ve seen two beggars and some shabby shuffling people in the outer towns, but none of the bags and tents that come with homelessness. Our friends say the NHS scoops them up and helps them, though it’s not perfect. It’s miles closer to perfect than what I’m used to, though.

I know things wouldn’t look so sweet while hiking through ice and sleet to get to the grocery store, but today I have an art museum with a cafe full of scones to keep me happy. If I can get everyone out the door. Some aero bars on the end of a stick should get them going.

Just riding a bus through a landscape painting with hay bales

This lady showed off her wings for me

Found a coo 

Lovely deer at the Scottish Deer Centre, full of food pellets offered from the grubby hands of hundreds of children 

CHEESEMONGER

The line to this place was out the door every day, so we got in early for breakfast gelato and beat the crowd 

One of the active churches, with organs playing 

This year’s crop of golfers is ready for harvest 

Hot chocolate with fresh cream and fudge

St Andrews Museum, with meditation labyrinth for adults to walk while the kids play on the seesaws and climbing structures 

This guy was pretty old and kept the trainer on his toes because he knew all his tricks 

Seagulls and cider

It started out as a long day. After wearing out the family at the aquarium and getting talked into buying two stuffed axolotls, I tried to herd them toward a pub so I could have a pint while they ate burgers, but they stampeded toward a shawarma shop, instead. Two bums were trying to wheedle free baklava from the cook, and we had to wait 20 minutes while he tossed them out and dealt with the situation before firing up the grills. It was a long wait for mediocre food, and I felt resigned about missing out on the pub.

That evening, Mike texted to ask if we wanted to go to an RSCDS dance after he finished his homework. The family said no, they were tired, and my mother reminded me that I didn’t have a skirt to meet the dress code, so I couldn’t dance, either. I offered to meet him early for a pint, instead.

We met up and walked into town, heading down a side street toward the St Andrews Brewing Company. I pointed at the shawarma place that had derailed my earlier plans, heard a flapping sound, and looked up to see that a seagull had become tangled in a net on the roof of the building. It was panicking, getting more and more wrapped up, and a bit of its wing was bleeding. We told a shopkeeper, who did not care. A customer laughed and came out to take a picture of it. We were trying to contact the SPCA when a cabbie leaned out of his car and said, “Call the fire brigade! They get cats out of trees, do they not? Dial 999!”

So we called the fire brigade. 

They asked us to stay on site to direct them to the bird, and when the truck pulled up with sirens, I put my face in my hands and started laughing in embarrassment. I just wanted a pint.

The entire street came out to take pictures. The sky filled with screaming seagulls shooting ribbons of poop. The fireman climbed the ladder, shoved a canvas bag over the gull’s head, cut the net, wadded the bird up in one hand with its legs sticking up ridiculously, and climbed down the ladder with his other hand. Everyone clapped. We ran for it before they could give us a mangled seagull as a reward.

At the brewery, we sat and ordered some lagers before realizing there was an elderflower cider on tap. Holy shit, you guys. Thistly Cross elderflower cider is the best drink I have ever had in my life. I want to stuff my suitcase with as many bottles as customs will let me get away with, if I can find any in the shops. 

A QUEST

Afterwards, we ran through the cold rain with chattering teeth to the dance hall in an old historic building by the church. It was packed with people dancing reels and jigs to live music.

I intended to drop him off and leave, but Mike’s tutor got hold of our arms and pushed us out onto the dance floor. I was the only one in jeans and had three drinks in me, but my feet remembered how to do the thing. The music was loud, the floor was springy, and people were spinning everywhere. Traditional Scottish dance attracts an older crowd, but they can move.

After two dances, I made my exit. Mike let me out a side door and kissed me in the rain.

Walking the 2 miles back to the apartments, warm from cider and dancing, I realized I was having another of the happiest moments of my adult life. So I took a picture.

Never coming home. Sorry, boss.

St Andrews Cathedral

Averaging 10 miles of walking per day. The air smells like salt and fish, the skies are full of swallows, seagulls lurk on all the stone buildings like gargoyles, and the gardens are full of rose bushes. The sun sets at 11pm, when the bats come out. It’s very much like Newfoundland, and old memories are lighting up all over. The wind is chilly, our hands and cheeks are cold, but the sun is warm enough for us to take off our jackets between rain clouds. My mother and Zenny have lower battery life than the rest of us, so it’s a trek from bench to bench around town, but after we get back to the room I can take off on foot to the grocery stores, where fresh berries and cartons of juice are less than 2 pounds apiece. I’ve gone wild in the snack section, buying every package of cakes and biscuits and candy I’ve recognized from books and BBC. The pound might be stronger than the dollar, but the food prices are less than half, so I’m still spending a shockingly small amount on everything.

The Scottish sun

Baby gulls 

Gouache painting in my travel sketchbook

Leif’s new haircut 

Gavin, always chill and happy 

I’ve been terrible about taking pictures of myself, this is all I’ve got, whoops 

We have a flat of 4 dorm rooms with a common room/kitchen at the university 

Roses everywhere 

When the people who built the cathedral in 1300 imagined the people of the future, they couldn’t have guessed this was what was coming 

The beaches are made of rocks and kelp and ducks

The remains of the cathedral

Trash talk in the evenings 

The very best fish and chips

 Hot scotch pie

The castle

My mom at the castle 

Secret room seen through a keyhole opening in the cathedral wall

Exploring foot paths 

Bumble bee! We don’t have these at home 

Fancy

Madness

Frog cakes 

Mike got his first tattoo in Edinburgh on the way up. Haven’t seen much of him since he’s in class all week and has his own room across campus.

 It’s wonderful. I’d leave everything and live here if I could, but my mother will not go (too cold), and I only have 6 years left before I lock in my 20 year retirement benefits. That is 6 years to scheme.

Scotland day ??

My body was not ready. 21 hours of flying somehow translated into 3 days. 

With no cell service or online maps,  I had 90’s-style adventures at the tram, bus, and train stations. Waiting at Platform 2 for the liner to Leuchars, a young man came up to lean next to me and eat a sandwich. We watched a pack of tween boys on Platform 1 run by, turn, and yell behind them, “TOMMY, WE’RE OOT, YOU BETTER FOOKIN RUN!” They hopped a fence, getting their jogger pants snagged on the iron posts and falling over headfirst. “Jaysus Christ,” the young man next to me said. “Oh look,” I pointed. At the other end of the platform, Tommy was getting dragged by the arm by two policemen. They sat him down on a bench and told him off, shaking their fingers and writing in a notebook. The guy next to me started laughing. “Bloody hell, the lad got pinched and his mates scarpered!” Tommy realized this, too, and started gesturing at the fence, blaming his friends for whatever it was they had been caught at.

In trouble 

The fence. The guy on the bench was unbothered.

I love Scotland so far.

Scotland day 0

Bags are checked, I've handed off the house keys to sister-in-law, and I am at the airport with a trashy paperback, a half-knitted sweater, and a bottle of Benadryl. My body is ready.

First it's a red-eye to the Pacific Northwest - where I will not be embarrassing myself or tweeting like a middle-schooler (because I'm on Threads now) - and then it's non-stop to England. Once I am completely confused by the 11-hour time change and full of airport coffee, beer, and Toblerones, I just have to fly to Edinburgh, find the tram to the railway station, ride a train for a couple hours, get off at the correct stop, catch a bus into St. Andrews, and try to find the apartments in the dark. EASY.

6 legs, each in its own color

There is a hurricane on its way, so I showed Sue where the plywood is and said BYEEEE. 

The weather in Scotland is a sultry “holy shit I’m freezing to death”, and that sounds pretty good right now. Let’s go.

a little bit of nothing

While getting ready for this trip, I sat down with Zenny to get manicures for the very first time. My nails are weak, short, and sad, but I figured that maybe if I actually took care of them they could become healthy, normal, and respectable. Zenny chose sparkling electric blue, I chose "just make me look less anemic" pink, and then I let the girl and the nail tech talk me into an extra coat of glitter. It looked a bit silly on me, but the kid was happy, and the nails looked like proper fingernails for a change, so it felt like money well spent. 

Three days later, I experienced my first nail emergency. The gel didn't adhere properly (GLITTER), and it suddenly started peeling up in big bubbles on all my fingers. My problems tend to be second- and third-world sorts of things -- busted pipes, dying animals, inadequate emergency services, ineffective bureaucratic systems -- so first-world problems are kind of new and exciting. I hurried back to the salon, waved my peeling nails at them, and they rushed me to a table faster than if I had been at the emergency room with a stab wound. They used acetone and tin foil and a grinder to take it all off and redo it.

Now I look like a real person again. Without the glitter. 

well this would have been impressive if I had taken a "before" picture

Next I'm going to order an elaborate coffee beverage and see what happens.

The family left yesterday, and something like excitement has started to happen. It might be fear. Shooting your entire family into the sky in a metal tube seems like something you maybe shouldn't do. I’m waiting for them to text to say they’ve landed safely. Tomorrow I wrap up my last storytime, tear out of there before the final “quack” has dissipated, pick up the house-sitter from the airport, and then it’s a red eye to the PNW. Yikes.

Edit: they landed in London! 

good news

Zenny had her 1-year ultrasound to see if her damaged kidney was growing at all, and it showed

TWO!

FUNCTIONING!

KIDNEYS!

 

The scarred area will never grow, but the rest of the kidney has grown around it, and it's back up to normal function again (it was down to 30% before surgery, with the other one doing all the work to compensate). 

She's on track to enjoying a normal kidney-having life. She can have kids, if she wants.

 

Feeling a lot of gratitude and relief over here.

not long now

On one of my break-time walks last week, I saw that the public pool by the library has finally opened up for lap swimming during lunch hours on Fridays. Today I grabbed my backpack, walked across the street to the park, and swam like a fish in the warm water for half an hour. Showered off in the sunshine in the open-ceiling changing room, stuffed my wet suit and towel into the backpack, and walked back to work. It felt really good - the quiet loudness of the water, the sound of your own breath, the snatches of music playing from the guard station, the feeling of hitting a flip turn and smacking your feet onto the wall. I felt more like myself than I have in a long time. I'm even getting a faint tan. Maybe.

So, there has been a thing going on over here. A week ago my mother (a teacher) found a foreclosed fixer-upper next to her beach-side school, and we've been visiting with contractors and realtors, talking to banks and trying to get a bid in before traveling. Everything is up in the air, and my mother would have to sell her current place and live with us for months while the roof comes off and a new one goes on, but something might be happening. It's kind of exciting.

 

Yeah, the foundation is cracked, but that VIEW

 

Meanwhile, I'm in a big damn hurry to clean the house and get things repaired before sister-in-law arrives to babysit our cats - one of which has decided to develop diarrhea because I had to switch them all to a new brand of food after another of them developed an allergy and went bald. She won't notice, though, because the bathroom is painted, right?

Disclaimer: it was all coffee-colored before sanding, then it did the weird naked wood thing

 

Family leaves Thursday, I follow on Saturday. Still not excited, but maybe that's just adulthood for you. I'm feeling glad to be getting off work for two weeks, though, and that is close enough for me.

24 hour fitless

Nothing boosts your satisfaction with not going to a gym like getting a free pass to try out a gym.

A couple weeks ago I maxed out my dumbbells, and then I got chased by a toothless man while out for my evening jog around the neighborhood. Time to check out the local gym, maybe.

This will be great, I thought. I was a swimmer for years, and they have a pool. I will be so swimmy and fit, and then boil my butt in the hot tub.

I said this to the lady at the front desk while I was signing in for my free trial, and she cringed apologetically. "Aaactually, the pool is shutting down next week. And the hot tub. Permanently."

"Well, shit."

"Yeah."

I went for a swim anyway. My watch clocked me at half my high school speed, and I was feeling very sorry for myself until a nice little old man in flippers took the lane next to me. I totally kicked his ass in the 100m freestyle. 

 

When I got into the hot tub I turned off the swim setting on my watch. Nobody warned me that apple watches eject water by spitting it out onto your wrist, and I was not prepared for that. That is more intimacy than I am interested in.

There were no towel hooks in the showers. You have to walk naked from the lockers to the showers, and then track water all the way back to your locker to get your towel, and then change in front of strangers. I went for the towel-tent option and tried crawling into my clothes without exposing any of my bits, which is when I learned a very valuable lesson about poly-spandex yoga pants and wet legs. Embarrassing.

8am isn't the best time to judge a gym, so I decided to come back at 7pm to see how the after-work crowd behaved. It was wall-to-wall chaos. The weight area was a live-action gym meme. People were making up their own exercises. Men were getting trapped under free weights. Sweat was not being wiped off of seats. People were drinking cappuccinos while resting on the machines between sets.

After an hour trying to get on more than two machines, I gave up. I can spend the $350 annual fee upgrading my dumbbells and running shoes, instead. It is quicker to just run around the block or do a 30 minute video, and with fewer naked strangers and plantar warts. Toothless guys who chase you up the street are called motivation. 

And I am great at kicking motivation in the balls.

Spartantagonism

This week I learned that people who compete in Spartan races have a reputation for being assholes. I... don't know? My overall experience with the race was really positive. All kinds of people of all ages from all over the world were there, and they were really happy and supportive. There were thousands of competitors in dozens of heats, cheering each other on and helping people with injuries get to safety. If it really is an asshole convention and our race was an anomaly, I guess we will find out, because the Hawaii Spartan has been canceled this year, and it has already been paid for it, so we're looking at flying out to Seattle in September to give that one a try. (Well, the two competitive people will give it a try. I will be guarding the backpacks and eating baked potatoes again, because I like my kneecaps attached to my body.) 

I will take field notes and report if any assholery takes place. Unless it is me.

 

Countdown: 3 weeks to Scotland!