In honor of the best daddy in the whole world...

HAPPY FATHER'S DAY!

I love my dad. He is my coach, my cheerleader, my hero, my number one man. He's taught me how to say my prayers, ride a bike, solve differential equations, appreciate butterflies, and use eating utensils correctly. He courageously survived my teenage years and came out on top. Here are some of my favorite memories of my dad.

Rebecca and I went on a camping trip with Dad when I was about nine or ten, and I can distinctly remember canoeing through some exciting rapids, made even more exciting when Rebecca "accidentally" fell out of the boat and started floating downstream. I remember roasting marshmallows that evening and flinging the burnt marshmallow skins at nearby trees.

 I have many fond memories of trips to Scotland with Dad. Every day he would force us to go outside on some walk or other and we would complain and whine the entire time. He would try to fit in as much as he could into the two or three weeks we were there, and all we wanted to do was sit around and play card games and eat toffees. But I am so grateful that he did it. I wouldn't trade those memories for a lifetime supply of toffee, not even the Cadbury Chocolate Eclairs.

When I was twelve, Dad and I ran the Yorktown July 4th 5k. I was nervous because I wanted to do well and impress him. I did some research (it's amazing what you can find on Google) and turns out we both placed fourth in our age group! Of course, his time was six and a half minutes faster than mine, but that's not important.

Something I love about my dad is his cheesy smile. It is physical proof of his goofiness, a quality that many people don't realize he has. (P.S. Can we just pause a second to admire my coat? Okay, thanks.)

  

I really enjoy sitting with Dad in Sunday School and listening to his comments. They are always so logical and well-formed, and they make me think about things in a different perspective. Dad has taught me to be more open-minded, and I admire the way that he can make his religious beliefs and his scientific beliefs mesh so cohesively in his mind. I've also learned from him how to develop well-educated opinions and that I should avoid having opinions that I haven't thought through and reasoned out for myself.

I tended to have parties most weekends during high school, and Dad was normally very patient unless we were talking loudly during an episode of Dr. Who (a felony in our household). At my Harry Potter themed 18th birthday party, he even participated, dressing up as Professor Snape.

I remember the day when Dad started to build our tree house. I loved that tree house. We used to pretend it was a space ship and we would "paint" it with water. We had to paint really fast so that the wood would still be the dark, wet-wood color when we finished. I also remember the big yellow swing that he hung up. My dad is so smart and resourceful. He can always figure out things when he sets his mind to it. He wanted to hang the swing higher than his ladder would reach, so he climbed up the ladder and carried up another ladder with him. He then lashed the second ladder to the tree and climbed up from there. That swing was the coolest swing in the whole neighborhood, and you could go as high as the roof of the house if Dad was pushing you.

I have so many special memories involving my dad and soccer. He coached me every year as I was growing up and taught me to have a passion for the sport. He tried his best to teach me how to productively channel my frustration and sometimes I managed to do it! One time Dad was teaching us about defense and he said, "Who can tell me what marking means?" Due to Dad's accent, Nico misheard him and responded, "It's when you make fun of someone, isn't it?" I still laugh every time I think about that. Dad was a smart coach and was able to balance fairness with a desire to win. He isn't like those wimpy coaches that you get these days who try and put every person in every position. He gave everyone fair time while being strategic in his lineup. He was also very supportive when I did soccer in high school and whenever I played, I wanted to make him proud.

Dad has always pushed me to be as good as I can be, and I am so grateful for that. I may not have enjoyed it at the time, but hindsight tends to be 20/20 and I know we wouldn't be as close now if we didn't have those problems then. Sometimes I thought he was insensitive, but I always knew he loved me. And really, that's the most important thing. Thanks Dad. No matter how old I get (or how old you get!) I will always be your little girl and you will always be my teacher, father, and friend.

"We write to taste life twice, in the moment and in retrospect." — Anaïs Nin

And believe me, it tastes almost as good the second time. The more time I spend writing about what's happening in my life, the more I want to write and the more I appreciate the seemingly simple experiences that I write about. Here are a few memories that I want to 'taste twice.' I've arranged them in list form for your convenience.

1. Opera- It started last Thursday when Granny took us to see Rigoletto, a tragic opera by Verdi. Opera was something that I never knew much about, but since then it keeps popping up everywhere. Popstar to Operastar came on TV earlier this week, and we've been following the Cardiff Singer of the World competition. I haven't been able to get La donna è mobile out of my head. (Click on that link and listen. I'm sure you would recognize it. It's incredible how often it's used in popular movies or TV shows: Dr. Who, Saturday Night Live, South Park, Grand Theft Auto III, Star Trek, Seinfield, Sesame Street, and My Friend Tigger & Pooh, among others.) A couple of nights ago Granny and I attempted to sing O mio babbino caro in the kitchen after dinner. Rebecca can attest to our prodigious talent. Opera is a singular art form because it conveys so much emotion in the music alone. The singer doesn't move around the stage much while performing, so the expression has to be conveyed through dynamics, facial expressions, how they stand, and so on. The music isn't organized into rhyming verse, chorus, verse two that echos verse one, chorus, verse three, chorus, bridge, chorus. It's sung in waves of sound, and often a singer will sing half of the song, and then go back and repeat but sing louder, or slower, or in a different key. It took me a while to appreciate the vibrato of the voices because usually I prefer clear, choir-boy kind of music, but I'm slowly growing to enjoy it.

2. Work- I'm getting into the swing of things at work. I've made some friends and learned most of the menu. I'm a waitress more often than a dishwasher now, which is a nice change, although waitressing is a lot more nerve-wracking and I have to be thinking the whole time. When I'm washing dishes, I go off into my own little world and, when the noisy dishwasher is on, I sing opera in hushed tones (no high A-flat for me). Work still has that new, exciting feeling, which I want to maintain as long as possible.

3. Granny's memory- Forgive my bragging, but my Granny is awesome. She knows the name for everything: flowers, birds, songs, actors, places. But Rebecca and I have learned that if you ask her a straightforward question like, "What is that plant called?" she won't be able to remember. So instead of asking a question, we make an observation such as, "That's an interesting-looking plant." She will then volunteer the answer, easy as pie.

4. Photo shoot- On the drive home from Inverness on Thursday, we saw the most beautiful patch of wildflowers, so we stopped to have a photo shoot. Here are some of the results:

5. Teatime- It's a wonderful tradition that I am determined to perpetuate into my grownup life. A snack of hot chocolate and cake is the perfect way to fill the gap between lunch and dinner. I harbor a slight resentment towards the Boston Tea Party-ists (pun intended). Of all the traditions to quench (I'm sorry, was that too far?), why would they choose an essential meal? Especially one that leaves me saturated (a bit of a stretch) with cocoa and joy? I will leave you with this lovely cartoon I found that expresses the importance of teatime in Britain.

There are few hours in life more agreeable than the hour dedicated to 

the ceremony known as afternoon tea. 
- Henry James 

Earth's crammed with heaven

And truly, I reiterate,.. nothing's small!

No lily-muffled hum of a summer-bee,
But finds some coupling with the spinning stars;
No pebble at your foot, but proves a sphere;
No chaffinch, but implies the cherubim:
And, — glancing on my own thin, veined wrist, —
In such a little tremour of the blood
The whole strong clamour of a vehement soul
Doth utter itself distinct. Earth's crammed with heaven,
And every common bush afire with God:
But only he who sees, takes off his shoes,
The rest sit round it, and pluck blackberries,
And daub their natural faces unaware
More and more, from the first similitude.

 Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Aurora Leigh Bk. VII, 1. 812-826

The Quest for Puffins

We went on a wonderful journey yesterday to Handa Isle, a small, uninhabited island known for its huge colonies of seabirds. The road to Handa took us through the magical highlands of the West. The rolling hills were interspersed with breath-taking, terrifyingly grand mountains (there really aren't enough adjectives in the English language to embody them). There were several moments when we came through a pass in a mountain and a vista like this appeared, and I couldn't decide if I wanted to be Marianne Dashwood or Aragorn or High King Peter or Pocahontas, but I knew that I wanted to stay there forever, roaming the moors and soaking in the magic.

Honestly, and I know this sounds melodramatic (permission to roll eyes granted), I was on the verge of tears when I saw that little river winding its way to that loch. How perfect. 

Handa Island itself did not disappoint. The only sounds we could hear were bird calls and the constant, muted murmur of the waves hitting the cliffs below. We walked 4 1/2 miles around the island, stopping on the north edge, where the majority of the birds were located.

The birds were just preparing to nest, so there were plenty of squabbles over who got to nest where. The gulls were exceptionally vociferous. We also saw Kittiwakes, Gullimots, Great Skuas, Arctic Skuas, and, most importantly, Puffins. There is a special place in my heart for Puffins. Their quirky appearance and awkward waddle are so endearing and sweet. When we first got to the viewing place, all of the birds were across a huge crevasse on a stack.

We were standing on the cliff in the right of this picture. You can see how far away it was. We had binoculars and I saw a few Puffins from far away, but I couldn't get any good pictures and I couldn't help but feel a little disappointed that we had come all this way for a few passing glimpses of orange beaks and feet. We started moving on, but then Granny suggested we leave the path and walk around to the other side of the cliff where this picture was taken from. So we walked around, took a seat, and waited. And then, a miracle occurred.

This little guy popped out from his hole about ten feet from where we sat. Again (this seems to happen a lot to me) I almost cried. I held my breath and took picture after picture for fear that he would fly off in a moment and I'd never see him again. 

 

But he patiently waited, turning his head back and forth to let me get every profile I wanted. Then he walked around a little so I could get some action shots. I thought the trip couldn't get any better, and then...

 

Out came his wife. They looked up through my eyes and into my soul and I'm pretty sure I heard one of them say, "You're welcome." Either that or, "This crying stuff is getting ridiculous. Get a backbone, woman."  It was a humbling and wonderful experience.

We sat on this cliff for about 15 minutes, enchanted by the sky and our new friends and the blustery wind and the way the light blue water faded to dark blue as it approached the horizon and silvery-gray as it approached the cliffs. Most of those black and white birds on the edges of the stack are Kittiwakes. Most of the Puffins lived on top, while the gulls lived on ledges down the side of the cliffs. The Skuas nested in the marshes away from the path. We stayed away from them because Skuas can get vicious if you disturb their nest.

 I love these mounds. They look like they belong in Alice and Wonderland. The dainty little flowers on the top are called Armeria maritinum, or Sea Pinks, and during the spring months they cover the island.

Sometimes it is necessary to leave the path.

Other than birds, the only other animals we spotted on the island were rabbits. We saw rabbits in droves, which is actually one of several collective nouns used to describe rabbits. Other leporine collective nouns are warren, nest, colony, bevey, bury, or trace. Just an aside, I love collective nouns. After we left the cliffs, we ambled around the rest of the island, avoiding puddles and searching for whales and singing The Hills Are Alive With The Sound Of Music (aaaah-ah-ah-aaaah). We got back to the shore, and hopped on the ferry to go back to the mainland. 

The boat had odd seats that you straddled like you were riding a horse. Instead of a pier, there was a wooden plank that they rolled up to the boat once it came ashore. We got some hot chocolate at the Shorehouse and stopped in Ullapool for takeaway fish and chips on the way home. We ate the fish sans utensils, which I think made it more delicious. By the way, don't you just love the name Ullapool? I think Scottish names are the most beautiful names in the whole world. By the time we got home, we were exhausted but completely fulfilled. Once we recover, we will start planning our next adventure. I'm hoping a castle will be involved.

I left a piece of my heart on Handa.

P.S. I utilized a famous, award-winning loo at the Shorehouse. Be jealous. It was an unforgettable experience.

Employment.

Good news! After much agonizing, telephoning, visiting and, worst of all, patient waiting, I finally have a job. I start tomorrow at the Eilean Dubh, a small restaurant right up the hill in the village. Fun fact: apparently Eilean Dubh means "Black Isle" in Gaelic, and when you pronounce it, the 'b' is mostly silent. Anne, the restaurant owner, is very nice and said that her restaurant focuses on treating customers like old friends. All of the food is freshly made and all the supplies come straight from local distributors, which is really neat. I will be working in the kitchen as well as the front room so, in theory, I'll understand how the whole restaurant works by the end of July.

On another note, we went to dinner tonight at Michael and Maureen's and Michael said something that really started me thinking. He was talking about his mother, my great-aunt Betty, who is a very talented author. Michael said that his mother didn't write books to satisfy a demand from others. Instead, she wrote to learn for herself. By researching, writing, and rewriting, she's able to really learn about things that she's interested in and also is able to develop opinions and really work things through for herself. Then Michael asked, rhetorically, what each of us would write about, if we were to do something like this. So I thought. And you know what? I really don't know. But I will figure it out.

And now for something completely different. Whenever I learn a new word, I always want to work it in with whatever I'm writing. However, I've learned a word that likely will never apply to anything I want to write, so I will put it here:

Exophagy (n) — the practice, amongst cannibals, of not eating one’s relatives or members of one’s tribes.

Cannibals have it right. Survival is important, but family is more important.

Sweet Revenge

Once again, Rebecca decided to be foolish and attempted to scare me several times with dear Winston. She put him outside the bathroom door, on my bed, and, her personal favorite, in my chair before dinner. Of course, I didn't take this sitting down (pun intended). No sir. I lay in wait until the opportune moment: when she foolishly signed into her Facebook account on my laptop and then didn't sign out. This is when I struck.

Of course, it only lasted for about a minute before she noticed it, but that was enough time to get the screenshot I needed. I seem to have won again. Game. Set. Match.

If you don't understand what in the world is going on, refer to my previous post on the subject: Meet Winston

Getting Crafty!

I decided I wanted to create something special this summer, so I got online and ordered a tapestry pillow kit like the one that Granny has been working on. Hers is part of a set of 6, and each is a depiction of a different day of creation. She's on day one, and it's looking really neat. My design is by an artist named Gustav Klimt, and it's pretty quirky and modern. Here's a picture of how the completed product will look (fingers crossed). 

 

 

Check it out! I've done about 20 stitches already!

"Hey, I have a good idea. How about I pose like I'm actually sewing, and you stand on that chair and take a picture of me. That will look cool."

 

This project is pretty expensive, but I think it will be worthwhile as long as I don't completely destroy it. I don't have much experience sewing, so this is a new adventure for me! I did make a quilt last summer, which was easier than I expected and super fun. It's so relaxing to just turn on a movie and do something crafty. I really think I should make a habit of having little projects all year round. That way, when I want to relax during school, I can still be doing something productive, as opposed to just lying around watching Youtube videos. Plus, the accomplished feeling I get when I complete a project is so satisfying (I can hear Becca's dad's voice in my head saying "so satisfying that what?" but I am not going to answer because he's just being sassy). Also, if you will take a gander at the coffee table in the picture, you can catch a glimpse of Granny's tapestry. She is almost finished and it looks to be the comfiest, classiest pillow in the whole world.

P.S. Pray take notice of my yellow pants. I bought them at the Banana Republic Outlet, and I'm excessively proud of them. Firstly, they were 50% off. Secondly, they're yellow. Thirdly, they are cropped trousers, which are all the rage in Europe at the moment. Yes, that's right. Europe. Which is where I am. I'm basically as chic as they come right now, or something like that.

It's been a long morning.

I think one of the worst feelings in the world is the feeling you get when you get in the shower and then you realize that you still have socks on.