Cooking Curse

It is a well known fact that my mother-in-law does not cook. She reheats via oven or microwave and occasionally boils potatoes, and back in the day, apparently, she baked a pan or two of shortbread. Christmas dinner at her house was a series of ready-made starters, precooked turkey breast and pre-roasted potatoes, finished off with ice cream and fresh raspberries.

I am not sure how I feel about her lack of culinary interest. At first I really loved it because I think I may have lost it long ago if I had married a ‘that’s-not-how-my-mother-used-to-make-it’ type. But no, I have the opposite problem… My husband is so excited that he now gets served edible food at home that he never has the desire to eat a meal any where else. Once I started cooking for him, it was like he discovered food for the first time after years of starvation. (Okay, a bit extreme perhaps, but the man hoovers anything I make him with the greed of my father’s black Labrador.)

Anytime I start thinking a bowl of cereal would do me for dinner, I come home to discover that my sweet husband has been bragging about my cooking and am guilt tripped (by myself) into making yet another brag-worthy meal. If I pick up something pre-made off the shelves, my husband’s heart visibly sinks.

Don’t misunderstand me- I genuinely love cooking, especially for my wonderful husband. I love feeding some who so clearly appreciates each and every bite (I have yet to see a dinner plate he hasn’t cleared completely! I baked him cinnamon rolls for his birthday in Sept and he hasn’t stopped talking about them since.). My complaint isn’t that I have to cook- my complaint is that I have to figure out what to cook!

After eight months of marriage, cooking 5-6 nights a week, I am out of ideas! My husband may be perfectly happy with whatever I cook, but if I have to eat another meal of mushroom & chicken pasta, I think I might cry. Now all I can do is pray for spark of culinary creativity. In the meantime, I’ve been walking to work and back to save my bus fare so I can buy up any cooking magazines I find…

It must be love...

I have never doubted that my husband loves me. He goes out of his way to make sure I know- he brings me flowers, gives massages, indulges my chocolate needs, and recently took me out for a terrific Valentine's dinner at a really nice restaurant. He is always my biggest fan and encourager.

But I have never been more sure that my husband loves me than when he offered to hold the bowl. Last week I contracted some form of stomach flu/food poisoning. Ross sweetly rubbed my back and head while I writhed in pain. And when I woke up in the middle of the night, emptying my stomach of it's entire contents, he could have gagged and left me to it- not my husband- he offered to hold the bowl.

It must be love...

Valentine’s Day

My parents sent my husband a valentine’s card to let him know that they miss and love him. The Husband’s response:

“Dear In-laws,

Thank you so much for the card you sent. I have never received a Valentine’s Day card from an elderly person before...”

Impropriety or Bird...?

I am really enjoying being back in the working world. So far I haven't had many problems adjusting to my duties, and for the most part, my days are without incident. However, every once in a while I run into some major language barriers, where I either misunderstand what's been said, or I just stand there in a cold sweat with a complete blank.

Occasionally there are quite humorous misunderstandings. Like yesterday when my co-worker, who was looking out the window in our office remarked, "Look at those two tits! They're so wee. They're dead tiny. Aw, they're lovely." To which my other two co-workers rushed to the window and heartily agreed.

After my initial shock at how innappropriate they were being, I managed to clarify what they were talking about. Apparently, they were gazing at two young blue tits, which are not anything sinister, but are simply a small type of bird native to this area. My co-workers then went on to explain how there were Blue tits, Green Tits, White Bellied Tits, and Marsh Tits. Despite my attempts to remain professional, I couldn't help but snicker throughout their explanation. After my co-workers earnestly tried to think of what else might be called tit ("Well, they had a thing called a dummy tit for babies to suck on..."), my snickering turned into belly-aching-tear-inducing-laughter, which lasted a good half an hour.

Perhaps I am not so much of an adult afterall...

Thankfully, my co-workers appreciate me for my American vernacular and ignorance. This morning I found in my inbox an e-mail from one co-worker labeled 'Check out this Tit!' leading to a picture a wikipedia article and a picture of a small bird.

Bailey

The day we all knew would come but were hoping would hold off another year or two finally arrived. My parents' decided to put our old dog, Bailey, to sleep. Technically she was my younger brother's dog, but really she was the family dog. At 12+ years old, the hot summer days were pretty miserable for her. At the end, in pain and no longer able to stand, my dad had to carry her to the car (which was no small feat if you recall that Bailey was about twice the size of a normal golden retriever).

I was definitely sad to hear this news, but, to be honest, being so far away makes it feel less real. Bailey was such an everpresent character in our family for the past 12 years- always in the middle of whatever activity was going on, with a nack for laying down right in whatever walkway or path you might be needing. She is the center of so many good family memories- the christmas eve we spent washing her after she got sprayed by the skunk, the time she proudly covered herself in fresh buffalo dung at Yosemite, the brownie she sneakily stole at our bridal shower... I could share Bailey stories all day. Despite her being a dog, it is pretty easy to talk about her like she was a member of our family. And she was. There is a part of me that still expects to see her coming out to greet us the next time we visit.

She was a good dog and I am thankful we got to enjoy her for as long as we did. Rest in Peace, Bailey.

Feeling Catty

Dealing with the direct loans people make me want to tear my hair out or beat my head against the wall. On the surface the whole system really doesn't seem that complicated- I need money for school, they loaned it to me, now I need to pay them back- All totally straight forward. So then why does the act of repaying them become so gosh darn convoluted?? And why can't they hire people for their help-line that are actually helpful?? Grr. At least they are giving me a lower interest rate for paying my bills on time and for signing up for direct debit. That .25% is something, I guess.

On a lighter note, I suddenly have an urge to read James Herriot stories... It could be because I found out he went to Vet school in Glasgow, or the fact that I was trying to think of some good books to read to children (a friend asked), but I think I am going to blame it on Akin, and the long stream Milo stories on her blog.

Now that I am reading this entry over, I am finding it rather boring. I can't think of anything interesting to write about these days.

...Maybe I should get a cat.

When I grow up...

It is already 2pm and I am still in my pajamas after spending the last several hours searching and applying for jobs. This whole process is so disillusioning. For the past year being out of work has eaten away at me. At first I had the wedding to plan, which was a welcome distraction, then moving to Scotland, but now that I am here and feeling the pressure to find work. We don't need the money, but I just can't justify to myself sitting around doing nothing.

I don't have any real career goals, but I really miss having something to be passionate about. Truthfully, I miss ministry. I miss serving the Lord, using the gifts He blessed me with and putting my energy into something that I know is significant and lasting. In the last few weeks I've put out dozens of job applications for positions that mean nothing more to me than a paycheck and an addition to my resume. Ambition is something that continually alludes me.

Some may see what I've just said as clear evidence that God has called me into ministry of some kind, but lately I have been questioning my motives. Do I want to do ministry because God has called me and I want to serve Him, or is it because this is where I'm most comfortable? Having grown up in church, it is too easy to be apart of churchianity, all the while ignoring the Holy Spirit.I want to do His will, not just what is easiest.

Anyway, it occurred to me today that I've been looking for work and filling out all these applications, but I haven't really stopped to pray about any of it. That is where I need to start.

Feeling fuzzy

This morning I received my first of what is bound to be many rejection letters. What a great way to start the day. I also finally caught up on laundry (thanks to my brother in law giving us his old dryer). I have never been so excited to do laundry before in my life. I can't tell you how nice is to fold dry fluffy clothes, instead of stiff cruchy clothes that it took two whole days hanging to dry. We also have a clean bathmat. Oh joy of joys!!

I think it must be the weather, which is steadily becoming cooler each day (I am SO going to need blankets and warm socks to get through the winter!), but this week I have really been wanting a small creature to keep me company. Even though we really don't need the hassle or expense, I miss have furry pets around. Ross claims this is all just because Sunday, a lady on the train had 3 black lab puppies, and he may be right. I've been dreaming about their little fuzzy faces ever since. Maybe one day...

Husband Mystery 2

The other day I hopped into the shower and waiting for me was an empty bottle of conditioner and a broken shard of mirror. You can imagine my confusion.

Now I happen to have the most finicky hair you can imagine. If it doesn't get it's daily dose of conditioner, it becomes impossible to manage, or even comb through. I know what you are thinking, "Jennie, your hair is so blonde and straight, how could it possibly be difficult to manage?!" Well, if you don't believe me, than you might believe Kelsey, the girl who cuts my hair, who frequently refers to my hair as a monster. The point is- I need my conditioner. My husband, on the other hand, has barely any hair and I can't imagine a scenario where using conditioner would even alter it's make up in any way.

As for the broken glass, I don't think I am alone in thinking that I'd like to keep all broken and sharp things away from me while I am in my most vulnerable and slippery state. Plus, I just couldn't figure out where it had come from. None of the mirrors in the flat were broken.

So I ask myself:
1.) How is it possibly that my husband uses more hair conditioner than I do when his hair is all of 1 inch long? And if he used up the whole bottle, why didn't he throw it away?

2.) Why on earth is there broken glass in our shower?!

Oh Me, Oh My, Oh Mess

This story is a couple days old, but I thought I'd share it anyway:

I started the day with a dozen chores on my list of things to do. Our flat was a mess and I wanted to have everything clean so I could have a special night with my man. But from start to finish the day just did not work out to plan.

First I managed to accidentally start the washing machine while the door wasn't properly latched, which sent water flooding over our kitchen floor. After like an hour mopping up the mess, I turned to the 3 days worth of dishes that had managed to pile up only to find that our hot water had gone out again. Frustrated, I left the mess of dishes and walked down to the shops, where I needed to get a headset for use with skype, and a few other items. While at Argos, despite checking the catalog number several times, I managed to order the wrong thing and had a long wait while they searched for the headset I'd actually meant to buy.

Then I spent quite a bit of time searching for things at the grocery store, because apparently cornmeal is called polenta here (who knew?) and they don't carry it in my local store anymore... Whatever.

By the time I got home it was already getting late, I hopped in the shower, swept the floors, starred at the mound of clothes waiting to be folded and decided to try tackling the dishes once more. Just as I start getting frustrated with the huge disgusting pile of dirty dishes and the lack of hot water to clean them, my husband walks in 2 hours early, with his mother in tow!!! The house is a mess, my hair is unkempt, I am half dressed and totally embarrassed by it all. So much for a nice date night!

After I show his mother out, I set my attention to dinner, which was supposed to be Thai green curry. Somewhere in my frazzled haze, I turned the heat all the way up, burning the pan of onions and then while opening the can of coconut milk I show how flung the coconut milk all over the kitchen...

Seriously ALL OVER. I had a couple cupboards and drawers open at the time, which meant the contents of our baking cupboard and silverware drawer were covered in a sticky mess. The counter top and floor were covered, and there was barely enough left in the can for dinner!

I have to say- I'm pretty good at making messes.

Entitlement

I was in such a bad mood a few minutes ago, for reasons that are totally ridiculous, but then I read this article and now I can't stop laughing. I love how stupid people can sue, and likely win money, for anything in the US. The land of freedom- where you can make your problems some one else's courtesy of your local claims court. haha


http://www.cnn.com/2009/US/08/03/new.york.jobless.graduate/index.html

All I have to say is that I am appalled that anyone would be inclined to give 'preferential treatment' to students who were the best in their class. Clearly this young woman is exceptional with her 2.7 GPA and feelings of entitlement. Who wouldn't want to hire her?!

Adjusting...

I'll get back to finishing the updates on the last several weeks soon. But while I had a free minute I wanted to write about my week.

The first few weeks here in Scotland have been a roller coaster of emotions. I absolutely love being married! My husband is amazing and I feel so blessed at how the Lord orchestrated everything so we could be together. There is nothing sweeter than getting to end my day snuggled up next to my husband, or being able to study God's Word together.

But I think I underestimated how hard this transition would be. There is just so much that I don't know about life here and I am constantly feeling like the only kid in the class who is totally clueless. It is the littlest things that just constantly remind me that I am not from here, and I have moments of wondering if I will ever feel at home again. Couple feeling lost with a total lack of community and you can probably see why some days are hard.

I almost feel a little guilty about relying on Ross for absolutely everything. He keeps telling me that he doesn't mind and to give myself time, but I hate that he has to make all these phone calls on my behalf when he is working and I'm not. I get so frustrated that it took me an hour starring at shelves to pick out proper cleaning supplies and several trips to the grocery store before I found yeast. While I know all this is normal, I still find myself fighting off feelings of incompetence and inadequacy.

This week it finally occurred to me why this time around is SO much harder than the other international moves I've made. In my other moves, I always had a sort of built in buffer- as a student I was surrounded by people just as lost looking for new friends, in Israel I had a team of people who were my built in support. This is the first time I've had to confront the cultural adjustments on my own. Trying to build relationships with people who already have established lives, families and jobs is much harder. Plus, I end up feeling rather alone in the process. Thank God for an understanding and patient husband! His encouragements have seriously kept me going some days.

But actually I started writing this post as an update on how good things are- This week I feel like I am finally starting to make some ground in meeting people. I tend to close myself off in new situations, but I am really trying to put myself out there a bit more. It seems to be working!

Saturday we went to a dinner party with some people from church. I was totally overwhelmed, but it was really sweet to be included and I now have a few more friendly faces in the mix. Yesterday I met a lady from church for tea. Our conversation was such an encouragement and I am looking forward to seeing her again. While we were chatting I met a couple more women who I now have a lunch date with on Thursday!

God is good and I am so thankful He has opened these doors for me. Today I feel confident and energized for the first time in weeks. Now on to conquer the job front!

Honeymoon 1 (aka beach hopping)

Looking through the pictures from our honeymoon I noticed that almost all of our pictures took place on a beach somewhere. And I discovered that I am in like 3 of them! So basically our honeymoon pictures consist of Ross standing on a beach somewhere trying not to look uncomfortable while I snap a picture to commemorate the few days of marital bliss that are a honeymoon.

Example #1:


Example #2 (although I should point out that Ross was actually excited about this one because he got to stand on a big rock... boys...)



After some unexpected setbacks we started our honeymoon in Gualala, where my aunt and uncle own a vacation home they gracious gave us the use of. The area around Gualala is just gorgeous and it was the perfect place for us to just relax and curl up with a book.


A significant portion of our honeymoon was spent in the car, as we drove from Sacramento to Gualala and back a few times, then down to Orange County and back to Sacramento. Ross did all the driving (most of the time with very little complaint). And though road rage and long trips can test any relationship, we managed to maintain our love and have a really great time along the way.


To prove that I was actually with my husband:

The Day After...

Saturday June 13, barely 24 hours after I said my vows, my beautiful big sister tied the knot with her man on my parents property. Her wedding was sweet and wonderfully creative: from the quilt table cloths and button flowers in her bouquet, to the centerpieces made out of flowers planted in logs, to the bale of hay the gifts were set on- it was Jessi's day!



People keep asking me if it was awkward to show up after being married the day before. Not at all! The day was all about my sister and I was so happy to be there. (Of course I did manage to steal a few kisses throughout the day from my sweet husband, who was looking particularly good in his suit.)



I have to say- our first day of marriage was a pretty good one. Ross even got to learn how to drive the ATV (and manage to use it to deliver my sister's 5 wedding cakes unharmed to the cake table.) Plus, I got to be a Matron of Honor at 23!

(Somehow that sounded like more of an accomplishment in my head...)

When I left off...

Since I haven't posted in forever I thought a review of the last several weeks would be a good place to start.

After months of weeding, shoveling and hard labor, we managed to beautify my parents property in preparation for The Weddings. Everyone told us we were crazy to have two weddings in one weekend, but we pulled it off with flying colors!


Friday, June 12 I married my best friend and the love of my life. All those moments of banging my head against the wall were worth it in the end because our wedding was just perfect. It was an intimate simple celebration- no awkward dancing or creepy garter removing. The weather was lovely and the church was quaint. Other than missing a few close friends, I couldn't have asked for more. Thank you to all the friends and family who made our special day possible!

A shock to the system...

Today I signed on to my wedding website and saw the countdown clock: 17 days until the wedding... Seeing that gave me a minor panic attack. I only have 17 days to figure everything out?!! Eeek!

BUT, to make it all better I got the bags for my wedding favors and I LOVE them!! I know it is such a minor part of the day, but they are perfect. After the disappointments and hassles of the whole music situation, it is nice to have something go my way.

Pre-wedded Bliss

Perhaps it is the fact that my wedding is only 31 days away, but lately I am just loving life. I mean there are certainly things that suck, like how complicated it is for me to live in the same country as my man, but all things considered I have a really great life.

I have a wonderful fiance, who is swamped with work and still finds time to pray for me, encourage me, write me sweet mushy letters, and set up a place for us to live. What would I do without him? I have an awesome family, which I was once again reminded of as I watched my mom tear up over the sweet Mother's Day letter my Dad wrote her. After 29 years of marriage and some big changes, they still love being together. I have some great friends, who constantly go that extra mile for me and listen patiently to me in all my crazy moments. I've learned so much from them. On top of it all, I have a great God, who has blessed me, provided for me, and been faithful to me. I don't deserve any of it, yet He gives bountifully.

Aside from the mushiness, I am getting more and more excited about the weddings. Yesterday I finally bought a veil. I gave in and got a long one. It is a bit longer than my dress train, completely impractical and totally beautiful. While we were in the store, my mom bought me the cutest parasol. Technically the parasol is for my sister's outdoor wedding, but I think it will be really cute in my wedding pictures too!

I tend to be a little serious and reserved, and letting loose is hard for me to do. But I am going to do my best to let down my hair in the coming weeks and have some fun for a change. I have my whole life to be serious and having fun doesn't have to mean being irresponsible. I just want to enjoy my friends and family, and not worry so much about silly things. We'll see how it goes...

Mother's Day

Yesterday my mother returned from her annual Mother's Day weekend away. Every year she, her sister and her mother celebrate Mother's Day by leaving their families and holing up in the nearest casino hotel for a few days. They gamble, shop, eat, buy things with their comps, and enjoy each others company. Despite the fact this weekend is supposed to be about her, my mother almost always brings us back goodies. Her generosity continues to astound me after all these years.

While she was gone, I spent almost all weekend planting flowers, weeding and maintaining her garden. I do not share my mother's fascination with flowers. And gardening is one of my least favorite activities, particularly in our yard where every two inches you are pulling out dead roots or rocks, and the whole time you are being eaten alive by mosquitoes. Why do people find that relaxing?! At least Mom was thrilled with the results and that was what it was really about.

I will have to post some pictures of the yard because I am pretty proud of what my hard work accomplished.

The dress update:

I am back to feeling totally confident in my dress! My mom and sister think the dress is great, and my wonderful big sister worked some magic to make me feel better about it. So, after loving words from the Boy, reassurances from my women-folk, and baking a batch of rainbow chip cupcakes, (Yes, I gave in, but I figured I deserved them after my emotional meltdown earlier.) I think I am back in the land of the sane.

tissue paper tears

Most of the time I think I am a pretty level-headed person and it is rare that I get worked up about anything, much less something trivial. But today I found myself sobbing as I drove away from picking up my wedding dress. Not mushy sobbing, but 'oh-my-gosh-I'm-going-to-look-horrible-on-my-wedding-day' sobbing.

I don't know if it is my hormones (I admit to a case of PMS), or if it is all in my head, but when I put on my wedding dress today it did not fit right. The hem was perfect, and the bustle was fine, but the bustline, which wasn't altered, just isn't right. The neckline is too high and my breasts can't be pushed up that far.

Stupidly I forgot to bring the correct bra to the fitting, and the alterations lady told me it would fit better once I had the right bra on. Even without the bra, she insisted that the dress fit exactly as it was supposed to and that it looked beautiful. Another girl said that if I was worried I could stuff the dress or my bra to get it how I wanted it!!! Hearing that brought tears to my eyes and I've been crying on and off about it ever since.

As soon as I got home I tried the dress on with the right bra and it still doesn't look quite right. I can't believe that I am actually crying over a dress! Every other time I tried on my wedding dress, I felt beautiful in it and so excited to show it off. It is disappointing to feel awkward and silly in my own wedding dress.

Thankfully, my mom and sister are going to look at it with me tonight to see if the dress really needs to be altered again. I'm hoping they can cheer me up or that the ladies over at Renfros (where my sis got her dress) can fix it. Until then, I am just going to have to get a grip.