Monday, September 30, 2013


A friend reminded me today of a story that I began in the church foyer several weeks ago, I was interrupted in the middle of it, and it was left dangling, glinting in the memory with the allure of the unknown, unresolved. A half-told story is an appealing thing. And yet, my friend, correctly surmised that that is an analogy of life right now, an interrupted story, a thing of interest half-told.
Morning comes and the story I begin here is interrupted a dozen times over, but I know it will get told eventually. So I persist in the telling, I take the detours, but I always come back to the story in the end. And in the meantime, it glistens in the atmosphere of our day, a tantalizing reminder to my children that someone cares enough about them to persist in the story.
So despite the fact that summer has ended and the ceaseless rains puddle deep, despite the fact that we have transitioned into school and activities with a surprising resemblance to a Tasmanian Devil, despite the fact that I'm driving my time without a spare, I'd still like to finish my story of our journey this July.
So I will. At least until I'm interrupted.

We drove out of London up to Edinburgh, Scotland. "Drove" is such an easy word to write. But WOW! try driving on the wrong side of the road, in the wrong side of the car, on round-a-bouts with just under a dozen exits, and you have a panic attack waiting to happen.
Once we got out of London, we were okay. That's a little like writing "once we got out of the bear's den we were fine." We had enough mess-ups to stretch our 6 hour car ride into a 8+ hour car ride. Fun is truly not the word.
Once we got to Edinburgh, we lived it up.
St. Giles Cathedral

Edinburgh Castle

Mary Queen of Scots bath house. Love the idea of a separate, multi-storied house to bathe in.

Some monument to something.

Grant wants it documented that there was lots of loose change in this park.

Gotta love the bagpipes.

Sir Walter Scott's monument, one of Scotland's famous authors.

We ended up coming home with a reindeer hide and an Icelandic sheep hide.

Avonlea is carrying the aforesaid hides in this picture. Note the cobblestone streets and phone booths. Disregard the Subway sandwich shop.

Another angle of Edinburgh Castle.

Rosy and I in front of some happy houses.
Hanging out. On a canon.

We spent quite a bit of time on this canon for some reason.

This is the castle draw-bridge, going over the moat.

We only stayed in Scotland for two days, but we thoroughly enjoyed every minute of it. This is a picture of the country-side as we drove to Capernwray from Edinburgh. Can you see the lambies? See the tombstones?

I feel like Scotland itself is a story half-told, because I want to go back.

And this journey is still only half told because I have to go to bed.

But it's pleasant to have the unwritten words still dangle alluringly in the future.....

I'll leave you with a picture of a monument that they only got half way finished before they ran out of money. The Scottish people decided they liked it the way it was....there was something tantalizing in the very half-finishedness of it....

Thursday, September 19, 2013

A Hit and It's Ramifications

I believe I left off writing our journey when we were on the cusp of Scotland.
I haven't been able to pick up the thread,
because I'm wobbly.
Once, many years ago when my grandpa died I said something like this,
"Grandparents are like chair legs, you don't even think about them being there until one of them is gone and all of a sudden you're off balance." Wobbly.
Apparently friends are comparable to chair legs as well.

Rowan has been complaining of a toothache for several weeks. I've been my usual compassionate self and have said beautiful things that he'll always remember like, "Well yeah Rowan, if you don't brush your teeth for two minutes like I tell you to you're going to get cavities and the dentist is going to stick a big needle in your mouth. And I'm taking it out of your savings account, say good-bye to the dreams of Lone Ranger Legos..."

Anyway my mom finally took him and it turned out to look like an abscess. They tried to fill it for now and he came home with a huge lip and plenty of drool. My mom said the dentist asked if he had been hit in the face recently. Hmmm, does the wheel barrow full of rocks falling across his cheek at the cottage count?

Later in the day he did math and I noticed him just kinda staring into space. I went over and asked, "Rowan, are you alright?" (Insert British Accent)
He looked up, swollen and startled, and said, "I think I'm just in shock."

And I had to turn away.
Because I completely understood.
Shocked, wobbly, just kinda looking around but not really seeing anything. That's me right now.
I lost a friend, she moved away, and it's not the end of the world, and yet it is. It's the end of the world as I knew it with a loving personality at my side, who delighted in the days with me. I didn't realize that she was a chair leg when she was here. I didn't realize I depended upon her for stability. But I did.

Extractions are shocking.


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