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Category Archives: True Life

Witness

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I, a summer oak, was planted on the grounds of Elverdinge Castle (which was actually a chateau built in the Louis XVI style) in Ypres (Ieper), Belgium, in 1760.  I lived the next 154 years in relative peace, watching various renovations of the chateau, shading the castle park beneath the ever-widening shadow of my leafy boughs, sheltering countless naked hatchlings until they were fledged and strong enough to soar from their twiggy nests, weathering innumerable storms thrown at me by Mother Nature. Then, a storm of a different kind swept into Ypres around 1914, bringing with it the thunder of exploding bombs and torrents of stinging metal rain. The storm raged on intermittently for nearly five years, the worst coming to Elverdinge in winter 1917-18.  The chateau, which was being used by the French and English armies came under attack from the Germans and was burned down. I suffered numerous wounds myself, my bark pierced by fragments of bullets and grenades on all sides. Unlike hundreds of thousands of young soldiers who absorbed the same during that winter’s fighting, I was strong enough to heal, new wood covering my battle wounds. I lived another 77 years, through the post-war restoration of the chateau in 1925, and its eventual occupation by the German army during World War II. When scientists examined cross sections of my trunk after my demise  in 1994, they were suprised by my hidden account of the Great War. The horrors I witnessed were borne silently deep within my oaken heart; I imagine the survivors of the horrible fighting in Ypres carried similar scars within their own hearts.

 

 
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Posted by on February 17, 2013 in How It Was, Observations, True Life

 

Willpower?

imageTrying and failing to resist temptation

I am supposed to be on a diet to undo the damage sustained after fifteen months of packing away any kind of British comfort food set before me.  However, I am currently in Brugge, smack dab in the land of Belgian fries, Belgian chocolate, and Belgian waffles.  The city of Brugge has both a chocolate museum and a potato museum–if there’s a waffle museum, we haven’t found it yet. Within the 1.66 square miles of the canal-ringed old city center, there are more than 40 dedicated chocolate shops, sometimes three or four in a row on the same side of an ancient cobblestone street.  Thankfully, waffle shops and fry carts aren’t quite as numerous, though they definitely aren’t hard to find.  It’s too bad they were not distributing willpower when we entered the city, because rolling around an intravenous drip of the stuff would have been about the only way to save my diet from the warm waffle with ice cream and dark Belgian chocolate sauce I had late this afternoon, right before my dinner of Flemish beef stew with Belgian fries (the waffle shop closes at 6:00 p.m., so we couldn’t risk eating dinner first then coming back for dessert).  One thing I know for sure: I would have regretted leaving Belgium without experiencing its famous cuisine far more than I’m going to regret the extra miles and extra sit-ups the indulgence will cost me in the gym next week.

 
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Posted by on February 16, 2013 in How It Is, On Me, True Life

 

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Caution

100_0807Caution: Road Ends in Six Months

We are almost to the end of the road here in England–this week marked the start of our PCS (Permanent Change of Station) countdown. Well, we can’t actually count anything yet, as we haven’t received our official release date, but we know it’s coming in about six months. At Tuesday’s departure briefing, we were handed a binder full of pre-move to-do lists, which is currently lying next to the sofa, waiting to be divvied up this weekend into his and her responsibilities. The days are flying by, yet I still have a whole list of my own to work through before I am forced back into the “real world” later this summer, and become slave once again to the demands of a full-time job. I’ve got high hopes that with steely determination, careful time management, and creative multi-tasking, I can cross off every item on the PCS checklists, as well as my own, before we set sail for the other side of the pond.

Places to See/Revisit

  • Holland
  • Brugge
  • Northern Wales
  • Iceland
  • Paris
  • Germany
  • London
  • Oxford
  • Cotswold Villages
  • Portsmouth (Mary Rose Museum)
  • Sulgrave Manor
  • Highclere Castle

Things to Do

  • Organize/scrapbook Japan memorabilia
  • Refinish chair
  • Restore lantern
  • Restore shoe last
  • Organize pictures on computer
  • Sort/purge documents on computer
  • Purge emails
  • Take class/renew teaching license
  • Suss out job opportunities in US
  • Polish horse brass collection
  • Lose another 10 pounds
  • Crochet Aran afghan
  • Frame auction pictures
  • Shadowbox antique Monopoly game
  • Purge old magazines
  • Import folder of recipe clippings into computer program
  • Create inventory of household effects

Whew! That’s a lot of stuff to do! Not sure how I’ll fit it all in around the daily routine of work, laundry, house cleaning, cooking, and blogging, but I am determined not to leave England with a backlog of unfinished projects and a load of regret about not making the most of the time I had here. I’m about to buckle down and make the next six months ones I can look back on with pride and a sense of accomplishment. I’ll revisit this post from time to time to cross off completed items…feel free to nag, encourage, bully, and cheer in the weeks ahead!

Last Sunday while I was trolling The One Minute Writer‘s archives for something to spark my imagination, I came across “Six Word Saturdays,” an idea they had picked up from the weekly series over at Show My Face. The idea is to sum up your current situation in just six words, then expand as much or as little as desired.  TOMW hadn’t done a “Six Word Saturday” prompt since July of last year, but I thought that starting today I would adopt it as my own end-of-week tradition–an easy, no-stress way to wrap up the blogging week. Lo and behold, when I clicked over to TOMW this evening, today’s prompt is “Six Word Saturday!” Great minds think alike. 🙂

 
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Posted by on February 9, 2013 in On Me, True Life

 

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Fence-sitting

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This week’s Mind the Gap writing challenge on The Daily Post asks, “How do you prefer to read, with an eReader like a Kindle or Nook, or with an old school paperback in hand?”

I am a complete fence-sitter on this issue—so much so that after fifteen minutes of contemplation and internal struggle, I gave up on clicking either radio button in The Daily Post’s poll on the subject.  If you put a gun to my head and made me choose, I certainly would, but I think it would take the click of the safety being released for me to actually commit.

I am a staunch supporter of reading old-fashioned paper books. Nothing beats going into a bookstore or library and wandering amongst the shelves, pulling down this volume or that, looking at the cover art, pondering the title, reading the dust jacket, and deciding with those three simple actions whether or not you’ll devote a few irretrievable hours of your life to the words contained within. I love the crackle of the dried glue in the spine when I open a book for the first time, and the smell of the ink that wafts so easily from whatever paper they use in today’s mass-produced paperbacks. I like the hardcover library books that have those ruffly, unevenly cut pages, and appreciate them even more if there’s sand stuck under the clear protective cover. If someone cared enough to read that book while relaxing on the beach, it’s surely worth my time as well. At home, a bookcase full of texts, their neatly aligned spines marching along the shelves until they collide with a family photo or personal keepsake, makes an office or living room warm and inviting. If an author’s words make a deep enough impression for me to purchase my own hardcover copy, the book becomes a treasure on those shelves, part of the art and ambience of the room.

However, now that I’ve defended my love of real books, I do have to admit to owning an eReader (well, four if you count the free Kindle apps on my iPad, desktop, and laptop in addition to the actual Kindle). I travel, and with the increasingly unrealistic airline baggage restrictions, the eReader eliminates the need to figure out how to transport a week’s worth of paperbacks and still have enough room to pack a swimsuit and some clean knickers when I go on vacation. I like having multiple books on my Kindle, so if I finish John Campbell’s biography of Margaret Thatcher while I’m waiting at the DMV, I can flip over to the latest novel by Maeve Binchy without skipping a beat. The anonymity of the Kindle is also refreshing…I don’t have to explain to anyone why I’m just now getting around to reading Pride and Prejudice or endure any judgmental glances while I’m working my way through the Fifty Shades of Grey trilogy. It’s amazing that so many classics are available for free download to eReaders…the benefits of having a library card but without the due dates (two weeks is not long enough to tackle some of those classics, and knowing there’s no pressure to finish a book on someone else’s schedule makes it much more likely that I’ll choose to read it).

I find the Kindle easier to prop up than a chunky hardcover novel when I’m reading in bed, but there’s no way I’m taking my eReader anywhere near the bathtub, one of my top three reading locales. I’d not think twice about leaving a paperback in the car to read whenever I’m waiting to pick up my husband, but possible theft or baking/freezing of the electronics would dissuade me from keeping an eReader in the glove box. A good storyteller can leave me sobbing—tears are absorbed (almost) harmlessly into the pages of a paperback, but what does a salty torrent do to the inner workings of an eReader?

Deep down, I harbor a secret longing to one day own a used-book store—a place with big comfy chairs, maybe some cakes and coffee—where people can bring the books that didn’t rate high enough to grace the shelves of their personal libraries and trade them in for someone else’s cast-offs, in hopes that one man’s trash is another man’s treasure. I feel I’d be killing my own dream before it has a chance to come to fruition if I come down squarely on the eReader side of the fence. I can’t throw my full support behind traditional books, either; as an aspiring writer, I believe eReaders have increased my odds of eventually getting a work in front of a reader’s eyes compared to when traditional kill-a-tree publishing houses were the only option. Now, even if I am rejected by any number of reputable agents, I can still self-publish electronically (and comparatively cheaply) in the hopes of attracting an audience from the public who troll Amazon’s Kindle Store looking for free or almost-free novels by unknown (temporarily!!) authors. Going that route, I may never achieve the fame and fortune of J.K. Rowling, but there’s a certain satisfaction knowing my words could be scrolling across the screen of some faceless commuter’s Nook as the 6:45 train rumbles toward his downtown office.

My eReader is convenient and I’d hate to give it up; traditional books are my first love, to have and to hold till death do us part. I have different, but not totally unrelated, dreams for my future that count on both paper books and electronic books being widely desired and available. I am hoping that by reading an equal number of books in both formats now, both industries will see demand for their products and I won’t contribute to the demise of either. Bottom line is I love words, and will pick up a book in whatever format I can, so I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t force me to get off the fence.

 
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Posted by on February 7, 2013 in On Me, True Life

 

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Abundance

100_1122I am my mama’s daughter in that neither of us knows how to make just a little bit of soup. The problem is we don’t really follow recipes when we make soup, so it’s a matter of adding some of this to a little bit of that, and oh, look, that would be nice in there, then adjusting the amount of liquid till it all looks right.

Growing up, my brother and I were in charge of doing dishes, and soup making days meant we’d better roll up our sleeves and settle in, because we were gonna be there awhile. Whenever Mom made soup, there were always two, sometimes three, huge pots to be washed, in addition to whatever utensils, cutting boards, and measuring cups she’d used in the process. She would start out with her ingredients in a large Dutch oven, but before she’d gotten all the vegetables added to the stock, she’d realize she needed more room and dig out her humongous soup pot—the one that hung off the edges of the electric coil of the stovetop and was so tall you’d scrape your knuckles on the bottom of the microwave trying to lift the lid. Occasionally even that would runneth over, and she’d have to transfer a few servings to her biggest saucepan (or on a really generous day, back to the Dutch oven) in order to have room to stir.

I try to save myself a few steps (and a lot of pot-washing) and start in my biggest pot, but by doing so, leave myself few options when the volume of soup exceeds the capacity of the vat. I usually end up with a concoction that is too heavy on the “good stuff” and way too light on liquid. I once served a bowl of chicken soup to a guest and by the time she crumbled half a dozen saltines over the top, every bit of the broth had been absorbed; she wouldn’t have missed a drop if I’d given her a fork rather than a spoon.

This heavy-handedness does have its benefits. For a couple hours’ work in the afternoon, Jim and I have tonight’s dinner, lunch a couple times during the week, three dinner-for-two-plus-the-next-day’s-lunch size buckets to put in the freezer, AND a two-quart container to share with a friend. All that’s left is to fire up the griddle to make some grilled cheese sandwiches…

 
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Posted by on February 5, 2013 in Cooking, Food, On Me, True Life