"I'll Be Home For Christmas," Just Not The Way Originally Planned...

When I started this blog, I was sitting on a train, traveling south from Edinburgh to London. I had a flight out of London the following day, December 15th, in the early evening.

But this was not the original plan. Well, it was always the plan for me to fly home on December 15th. We purchased the ticket LAST December! What we DIDN'T plan was that the British Home Office (henceforth referred to as "HO") would hold my passport hostage, and that my trip home would require a train ride, navigating the London Underground with 80 lbs of baggage, imposing on a friend for an evening, an early morning visit to the American Embassy, and an extra plane ticket!

ORIGINALLY I was supposed to board an 1:30 pm flight from Edinburgh to London on Monday December 15th. No muss, no fuss. I would spend 3 hours in London Heathrow Airport, entertaining myself in a reasonable manner, until my 5:05 pm flight to Philadelphia and the warm embraces of my family.

Well, there have been some alterations to said plan. In late October I sent my passport off to the HO. I was having a new Visa put in, as mine expires on January 30th, and I'm going to be in the UK for another 3 years. I sent it in early because they (HO) were planning to institute a thing called "BioMetrics" on November 25th. BioMetrics would have required me to go to Glasgow to be fingerprinted and have my picture taken, and to pay 500 Pounds (about $850) for the privilege. I was told that if I could get my application in before Nov. 25th, I wouldn't have to do all that nonsense, could do it in St. Andrews, and would only have to pay 250 Pounds ($480). So I opted to send mine in early.

I thought nothing of it until it was the end of November. And my passport still had not arrived. And I was due to fly out December 15th.

So I contacted Student Support Services, the University of St. Andrews office I sent the application and passport through. And they have been

amazing!  One lady in particular, Wendy, has been my hero these last two weeks. She has been pestering the HO like a champion. Early last week she emailed me to tell me that she had a special case worker at the HO working on it. They were going to expedite the process, because it was their fault that the passport was not back to me. Apart from some extreme moments of stress early in the week, it seemed as though things were going to come together, and that I was going to have my passport in hand in time to board my Edinburgh flight on Monday morning.

That was, until Friday morning. I got a text message from Wendy, asking me to call her ASAP. When I called her around 8:30 she had already been on the phone with the American Embassy! To make a long story short, when she spoke with the HO before going home on Thursday evening they STILL hadn't found my Passport! They certainly HAD it--they took my money on November 3rd--but they couldn't locate it!

So Wendy made an appointment for me to get an Emergency Passport from the American Embassy. The one catch was that I had to go to London on Sunday, and be on the doorstep of the Embassy there when they opened on Monday morning! But everything fell into place! Fortunately, I have friends in London who I was able to contact, so they gave me a place to stay Sunday night! (Thank you Paula and Mark!) I booked a train ticket from Leuchars (the closest station to St. Andrews) to London Kings Cross for Sunday. All was going smoothly. I was going to get my Emergency Passport the morning of the day I was scheduled to fly out, and with only a small monetary penalty!

...Until British Air told me that I couldn't cancel the Edinburgh to London leg of my journey and just catch the London to Philly leg! If I wasn't physically on the Edinburgh flight, they would cancel my entire booking! It was going to cost me over $1000 to book a one-way ticket on the same flight I was originally supposed to take! But a round-trip cost less than HALF of that! So, I had to purchase another plane ticket! Luckily the original flight was the second half of my ticket TO Scotland in January...

To add to the craziness, my Sunday train from Leuchars to London Kings Cross was 2 hours and 15 minutes late! There was a landslide further up the line, between Aberdeen and Montrose! I had to take ANOTHER train to Edinburgh, a train ride that normally takes 53 minutes, which took an hour and 45, because it stopped at EVERY station on the way! But I managed to catch up with my ORIGINAL train and was able to sit in my assigned seat all the way to London! In London I lugged my baggage through the Underground, up and down stairs and on and off trains. I knew I couldn't take my luggage into the Embassy on Monday morning, so on my way to Paula and Mark's I dropped my suitcase off at a secure baggage drop in Victoria Station, and took my carry-on. I was supposed to go to a Carol Service with Paula and Mark, but since the train was so late, I missed it. Fortunately they had the presence of mind to hide the key so I could get into their flat, and crash until they got back!

I didn't sleep well, because I was worried about how things would go a the Embassy the next day. Monday morning saw me waking early in the morning, quickly getting ready, and heading to the Embassy before the sun had even risen! I dropped my carry-on off at Victoria Station on the way, as I wasn't allowed to bring electronics or my backpack into the Embassy. There was a backup on the Underground, and then I missed the street I was supposed to turn down and had to back-track. I also had to stop and have Passport photos taken, and then had to go through Security at the Embassy. I had originally planned to be at the Embassy by 8:30 for my 9:30 appointment. I arrived in the Passport Waiting Room at 9:15.

And I was out by 10:30. The easiest and smoothest part of my entire ordeal was the American Embassy! They were so nice! And helpful! And efficient! And so unlike your usual U.S. government agency! Maybe it was because they weren't actually in the U.S.! They are there to HELP me, the American Citizen in a foreign country!
Everything after the Embassy went smoothly. I got to Heathrow Airport 6 hours before my flight, and my flight was on time.

So here I am, sitting in my parents living room, sipping tea, admiring the Christmas tree, and eating cookies my mom and I baked the other day! Its good to be home for Christmas, especially when it took so much to get there! Its true, "there's no place like home fore the holidays, no matter how far away you roam..."

Oh, and this Christmas "HO HO HO" took on a whole new meaning...

Scottish Rugby!

In the month of November I went to two rugby matches! The first one was on November 8th. Lisa, Andy and I saw Scotland play the New Zealand All Blacks in Edinburgh. The All Blacks are the best team in the world (and that is no exaggeration)! So, what we actually saw was the Scots have the rear ends handed to them by the Kiwi's!  I think the final score was something like 25 to 6!  

At the end of the month we went to Aberdeen (the original one) to see Scotland play Canada. We were joined by my parents, who were over for my MLitt Graduation (more on that in a later post).  This time we got to see CANADA get there rear ends handed to them by SCOTLAND! The final score was 41-0!  My poor Canadian housemate (Lisa) was disappointed that Canada didn't get a single point, but was happy to get to hear her national anthem played in Scotland. 

And we got snow!  It snowed the day before the match, so when we arrived at the stadium they were shoveling snow off of the pitch!  And it snowed as the game came to a close!

I really enjoy rugby. Anyone who has known me for even five minutes should find this admission to a love of a sport quite shocking.  But its true!  I think it is because the matches only last and hour and a half: two 40 minute halves with a 10 minute break in the middle.  There's none of this "stop the clock every 4 minutes" nonsense like in American football.  There are no time-outs.

And they play without padding or helmets.  And its much more full-contact, no-holds-barred than American football.  They kind of make American footballers look like pansies.  Some guys literally tape their ears back so they don't get ripped off!  And there is a rule about blood on the field.  You aren't allowed to be oozing on the pitch, so guys will run to the sidelines and be patched up... while the game is still going on.  I saw a match on TV once where one of the players started out with a white uniform, but ended with a red shirt...

These guys don't mess about!  I actually saw one of the All Blacks THROW one of the Scottish players off of the pile!  Just picked him up by the collar of his shirt and the seat of his shorts, and threw him 3 feet!  And these aren't little guys we're talking about here!  I would certainly not like to be at the bottom of a scrum!

The other thing I think is awesome is the way they pick up their teammates at the throw in after a ball goes out of bounds.  I think there is a picture in the slide show!  Once again... I want to remind you, these are not little guys!

They say that "Rugby is a hooligans' sport played by gentlemen."  I must agree.  Really big gentlemen...  




PS: I can't figure out how to make the slideshow move any slower! But if you just click on one of the pictures in the show, it should take you to the Picassa Webpage that I created the show on. From there you should be able to look at the pictures at your own pace! AND the pictures show up much bigger! So you can see more details!

In search of the Loch Ness Monster...

Last week was "Reading Week"--a week that the University has technically set aside so students can catch up on their course readings. But 99% of the student body takes the opportunity to go on mini-holidays. That leaves the post-grads and the towns people. Let me tell you, undergrad-free St. Andrews is a glorious place! I took advantage of the practically empty town to settle in with a latte at a cozy coffee shop, and get lots of reading done over the week. But three of my friends (Katherine, Mary, and Mat) and I decided to take a little holiday of our own at the end of the week. So we rented a car (which I drove!) and headed off to a cabin in the woods in the Highlands at Loch Ness.

It was a wonderful weekend! The weather was crisp and gorgeous. The leaves were golden and orange on the trees. And the Loch reminded me so much of Deep Creek Lake that I really felt like I was on vacation!

While we didn't see the Loch Ness Monster... she must have gone South for the winter... we did a lot of sight seeing! We saw Dunkeld Abbey, Urquhart Castle on the shores of the Loch, Inverness, Beauly, Fort George, Culloden Battlefield (of "Speed bonnie boat/ like a bird on the wing/ over the sea to Skye" fame), and lots of beautiful scenery in between. Since we rented a car, we had much more freedom of movement than we would have had depending on trains and buses. Whenever we saw something interesting, we just pulled over... mountain vistas, small highland towns, whisky distilleries, pheasants, handmade pottery at the end of a three mile lane. We would have done more, but the sun was rising around 8:30 am and setting around 4 pm, so daylight was at a premium. Once it got dark, we'd head back to the cabin, make dinner, and then settle in around the fireplace to read and play games.

Because it was the off-season, we managed to arrange a long weekend away that cost us each 75 pounds! That's including car rental, petrol, cabin rental, and groceries! And we drove roughly 568 miles. Most of that distance was getting there and back (roughly 4 hours in each direction), but we also did a lot of driving about around the Loch.

All in all it was the perfect weekend! Mooch enjoyed himself thoroughly, and I managed to get us from place to place safely in-spite of having to drive on the "other" side of the road while sitting on the "other" side of the car!

Foggy Londontown!

Things have been rather non-stop for me since returning to Scotland in September. I got to spend most of last week in London! It was the first time since moving to Scotland that I have ventured "South". Lisa, Andy, and I went down for a training session at the British Library. We stayed with some friends who live in town and had the opportunity to do some sightseeing! (Our training was on Tuesday, but we went down on Saturday!) We trekked all over the city and became experts at using the Underground! Westminster Abbey, Parliament, Trafalgar Square, St. Paul's Cathedral, the Tower of London, the River Thames, the National Gallery... the British Library! We didn't get to spend too much time at any of the sites, but we figure we have three years over here... we'll have other opportunities to see London. Not many people get to say that!

Mooch (my brother's toy monkey) joined us on our trip. This was Mooch's first opportunity for adventure since he came over in my Dad's suitcase this summer!

Enjoy the slideshow! And keep an eye out for Mooch!

Windy Days

Autumn has fully arrived in St. Andrews, bringing the gusty winds with it!

There is nothing quite like wind off the North Sea! Though this wind appears to becoming from the south west... not even from the highlands! Sometimes when you are walking down the street, you are stopped in your tracks by the force of the wind! A group of girls just walked by outside, giggling as the "stiff breeze" almost blew them over! The trees are bending, and there are more green leaves on the ground than yellow...the wind is pulling them right of the trees before their time.

I've completely given up on using an umbrella in this weather. No sooner do you put it up, than the wind blows it inside out! Wellies (Wellington boots--rubber boots that come up to your knee) are a necessity here this time of year. The rain that comes with the winds ensure that you get all wet. This soaking comes not so much stepping in puddles, as wind blowing the puddle to splash you! And the red wool robes of the undergrads are certainly being used more often now!

The wind pushes the clouds so swiftly that the sky alternates between blue and grey every five minutes. It will be nice and sunny when you go into the shop, but when you come out, its raining and miserable. But by the time you get home, its blue again...

Now that Autumn is here, winter isn't far behind! It should be here next week...

Bowler Hats, Umbrellas, and Tuxes. Oh My!

St. Andrews is certainly a unique place.  A couple nights ago my housemate Mary and I were walking down North Street when we were passed by a young man sprinting... in a toga.  On a Tuesday evening.  I didn't even bat an eye, but Mary must have made a face because the young man responded saying "I know, I know!  This is a bit unusual!"  I didn't miss a beat and shouted after him: "Not in St. Andrews!"  To which he simply nodded and smiled while disappearing around a corner.  Mary just looked at me like I was nuts.  Poor girl.  She's new to town.  She'll get used to it soon enough.

There is a fashion culture here that is decidedly unique to the town in term time.  The undergrads--as much as their drunken singing in the wee small hours of the morning, their milling about on the streets, their crowding into coffee shops, and their generally obnoxious behavior (tossing water balloons) may irritate me--certainly bring life to the town.   Their clothing alone is enough to color the town with character and flair that is unrivaled, often drawing the response of a simple head shake and a "only in St. Andrews..."

Scarlet robes (see post for 26 June) can be seen fluttering down the street, worn over street clothes during the day, and possibly concealing a tuxedo or formal kilt in the evening.  Any given weekend (starting on Thursday) it is not uncommon to round a street corner and find yourself in the midst of a group of tuxedoed young men and dolled-up young women on their way to a soiree. 

Balls, formals, and fancy dress (the British term for "costume") parties aside (of which there are many here), St. Andrews has its own sense of style.  I wish I could include photos to give you a visual idea of what I encounter as I traverse the cobblestones every day, but alas, I don't have the nerve to take pictures of random people on the street! So you will have to use your imaginations...

There are the really posh, private-school, wealthy types (sometimes called "Rahs"), with their expensive designer clothes, double popped collars, body warmers (which Americans would call "poofy vests"), perfectly coifed and gelled hair, and Abercrombie and Fitch looks. (To my readers out there who are fans of Twilight,  think Edward Cullen's style...) 

Then there are your typical, well-groomed, understated, British types, with their tweed or corduroy jackets paired with jeans and leather shoes, with button-up shirts and sweaters.  Sometimes they have trim, neat hair, but usually its a floppy "Hugh Grant-like" look.  (My housemates and I watched Notting Hill the other day, and one of them commented that she saw a younger version of Grant's character walking down the street that afternoon!)

(Speaking of Mr. Grant... I actually did see him in St. Andrews, at the Dunhill Links Golf Tournament held at the Old Course a couple of weeks ago.  I also saw Samuel L. Jackson, Huey Lewis, and Tim Henmen.  My housemate, Lisa, got hit by a ball tee-d off by the heavyweight champion of the world--Wladimir Klitschko--and lived to tell about it!  And for those of you who actually follow golf, I saw Justin Rose, Colin Montgomery, and Paul Casey.  I WILL include a slide show of the Dunhill Tournament at the end of this post!)

Ok, back to St. Andrews fashion....

We've also got the fashionistas who look like they took one of everything in their closet and wore it all together: a dress over skinny jeans, with a button-up shirt, a cardigan, a jacket, slouchy boots, 3 scarves, and hair that looks like a flock of birds made a nest of it...  And nothing matches. OR, they look like they are wearing nothing at all--wearing dark tights, and oversized shirts like they are dresses (that aren't really long enough to be dresses...) , with big belts and slouchy boots.  Or teeny tiny mini skirts with tank tops, cardigans and eight scarves... in the below 40 weather...  I foresee a  cold and flu epidemic coming.   Now don't get me wrong, there are certain pieces of these outfits that I love individually, or paired together; like the scarves, cardigans, big belts, and jackets.  Its just when they wear EVERYTHING at once...  But college kids will be college kids, and you can't fault them for keeping up with the latest trends, even if this old geezer doesn't get it!

But my favorites, and I mean this with all honesty and sincerity, are the guys who look like they stepped out of "Goodbye Mr. Chips," "Dead Poets Society," or "Brideshead Revisited".  You'll be walking down the street, and suddenly you'll feel as though you've momentarily stepped into 1937!  Loafers, khaki trousers, tweed jacket, sweater-vest, proper tie or even a bow-tie, wire-rim glasses, and 40/50's era hairstyles...  Some even carry briefcases instead of backpacks. I wouldn't be surprised if they are wearing cufflinks!  Last week I saw a pair of them walking past St. Salvators Chapel wearing loafers, khaki trousers, crested sports-coats, with shirts and ties, topped off by bowler hats!  Their look was completed by proper black umbrellas, complete with bamboo hook handles.  And holding those umbrellas?  White gloves.   These guys make me smile.  

A couple evenings ago I encountered all of the styles mentioned in a 5 minute walk to the grocery store!  I love being back in St. Andrews!

(Oh! I received the mark for my MLitt dissertation last week.  I got a "distinction"!  Which is a very good thing!  So this means that when my folks come to see my MLitt graduation ceremony in November, I'll be receiving a degree ranking the equivalent of "summa cum laude"!)

Into the Deep End

Today I was hit by a water balloon.  Yep.  A water balloon.  There I was, minding my own business, taking a walk with my new housemate Mary, enjoying the beautiful autumn day, when all of a sudden, my left side was drenched.  We had been walking past one of the university's most prestigious residence halls--a beautiful edifice known as St. Salvator's Hall (or "Sally's" for short).  I was in no doubt as to where the projectile originated--one of the upper floor windows of the hall.  I must have been quite a letdown for the thrower as I barely paused when it hit me.  I did take a quick moment to look up for the culprit, but he/she was skulking out of my view.  So I shrugged it off and kept walking and chatting with Mary as if nothing had happened.  

Consequently, my healthy distaste for undergraduates has been justified.

I must admit that once the initial moment of irritation had passed (a matter of seconds) that I found the whole incident rather humorous.  The part that makes me chuckle, even as I write this 9 hours later, is that the missile came from "Sally's".  Throwing water balloons at unsuspecting passers-by sounds exactly like something my mom would have persuaded someone else to do while she was in university!  She would have stood innocently by and watched the spectacle.

My day of drenching didn't stop there.  Oh, no.  I'm too much a child of "Great Big Mess" (my mom's childhood nickname, if you can believe it) to get by with only one dowsing.  Mary and I casually walked back to the house where I changed, and then headed off to North Point cafe for a hot chocolate.  You can tell where this is going, can't you?  As I reached to snag one of the marshmallows Mary was offering me, I somehow managed to dump half of my hot chocolate on my left side.  The same side, I might remind you, that had been Undergraduate Target Practice less than an hour before.  And it wasn't my lap that received my beverage.  That would have been too much like right.  Nope, I somehow managed to bathe my shoulder in the chocolate goodness that in a better world would have ended up satisfying my tummy.

I can assure you that I carefully avoided people holding glasses of red wine at the reception following the Reformation Studies Institute's first formal lecture this evening.  I was wearing a cream colored corduroy blazer, and given my track record for the day, I wasn't taking any chances.  The third time was not going to be the charm!

Needless to say, today was quite a way to kick off the first official year of my PhD.

And what a year it is shaping up to be!  I had to hit the ground running when I arrived back in St. Andrews on Sunday.  I have new housemates, new responsibilities at the School, a new office, and a new job!

As most of you know, my friend Lisa and I had been living in a cozy little house in town for the month of August.  While I was home in America for my September holiday the other two housemates arrived!  Mary is a masters student from Harrisburg, PA and is studying Modern History.  Xiaoyan is a masters student from China studying business finance (poor girl, stuck in a house full of historians).  We all get on quite well, and we're settling into the rhythm of living together.  I'm sure I'll be writing more about them all in the future.

As for new responsibilities, one of the professors from The Institute for Scottish Historical Research (ISHR) of which I am a part (in addition to the Reformation Studies Institute) asked me to serve as the Seminar Hostess for this year.  That means I'm responsible for greeting guest lecturers and arranging the refreshments for the seminars the Institute holds every fortnight.  And my friend Siobhan (also in the ISHR) asked me to help her organize the Institute's Reading Weekend in late November. The professors, faculty, and postgrads of the institute will be going to a country house north of Glasgow for the weekend, and will hold an informal sort of conference.  Its a prime opportunity for the members of the Institute to share their research in a casual setting, and for everyone to get to know each other a little better.  Siobhan is in charge of the weekend and asked if I could help her keep things organized and keep her sane!  This should be interesting...

Oh! As a PhD student in the Reformation Studies Institute, I finally get office space!  I just found out today that I am sharing an office with Siobhan and my friend Andy.  I'm very excited!  It will be good to have a place to work that I only share with two other people, as opposed to the carrel in the library that had me surrounded by dozens of people!

I also have a new job!  My friend Lindsay was kind enough to recommend me for a position she held last year watching the children of the headmaster of one of the local schools.  The girls, aged 9 and 12, are sweet, bright, and cheerful.  I will be watching them a couple of afternoons a week, helping with homework, supervising music practice, making sure Otto the dog doesn't run away, and basically ensuring that the house isn't burned to the ground and that the eldest doesn't try to sell the youngest to the gypsies!  So far, I enjoy watching the girls, and so far, they seem to enjoy me.

All in all, I'm excited about this new year, and this new degree I'm embarking upon.  And given the events of this week, I know that the next three years certainly won't be dull!

Free At Last! (At least for the time-being!)

Sorry it has been so long since my last entry!  I've been a little busy these last few weeks with dissertating, traveling home, and re-adjusting to American life (however temporarily)!

For the last month I have been buried under my dissertation, holed-up in the library, and living in the sixteenth century.  I thought the end would NEVER come! But with the help of Lisa (my moral support and fellow dissertator), Amber and Andy (my vigilant, and somewhat guilt-tripped proof-readers), and Michael Phelps (my inspiring motivator), I have finally finished my MLitt dissertation on The Gude and Godlie Ballatis.  All 14225 words have been bound and handed in for a week now, and my academic fate now rests solely in the hands of Professor Roger Mason and Dr. Steve Murdoch. (Gulp.)

Once I completed my dissertation I couldn't bring myself to even LOOK at my computer for a whole week, let alone WRITE anything on it!  It also took me a couple of days to be able to pick up a book again.  Even to read for FUN!  I tried, in vain, to read a book on my trans-Atlantic plane ride.  But the thought of reading for ANOTHER seven hours drove me to distraction, and I opted to watch some mind-numbing in-flight movies instead. But I am happy to announce that my desire to read has finally returned to me, and I have plowed through two novels (oh, glorious fiction) in the past week, and am even managing to enjoy reading an academic book written by my undergraduate advisor.

I'm home in Maryland for the month of September on a much needed holiday.  I've been going full-tilt for the last 11 months, and my mind was on the verge of a melt-down.  But as I write this, I'm sitting at the Lake, listening to the rain fall on the trees, watching the clouds roll across the water, and surrounded by my family.  And life is good.

I keep forgetting that we are now in September. I guess that is because I didn't really get an August.  When I wake up the mornings I have to remind myself where I am. Not just physically, but also in time!  I know my visit home is going to fly by, and I don't want to miss anything!

Its just so good to be back in Maryland. I've missed my family like CRAZY these last few months! But don't get me wrong, I LOVE St. Andrews too.  I'm kind of torn between these two places I call "home."  Its a bit surreal to be here and missing there, knowing that while I was there I was missing here!

But because I know that I'm going back in October (to FINALLY and OFFICIALLY start my PhD) I can enjoy my visit home to the utmost!  And that's just what I intend to do!

Here are some pictures of my last few days in St. Andrews and my first few days at home!

Chasing Michael Phelps

I have become obsessed.  

With Michael Phelps.

I wake up at (or stay up until) 3 am to watch him swim. (The BBC is only airing Olympic events live...)

I have changed my computer wallpaper to a picture of him.

And here I am, blogging about him.

I love the Olympics.  I always have.  Its a passion I share with my Mom.  Normally, we're really not into sports (understatement of the century), but every two years (Winter and Summer), for the two weeks of the Olympics, we will watch ANY event that's on... from badminton to curling, speed walking to cross-country skiing.  But this time, I live for the swimming.  And swimming alone.  I'm happy to catch anything else on my little breaks from working on my dissertation. But it is for the swimming that I am sacrificing my ever-precious sleep this week.  

Specifically for the swimming of Michael Phelps.

Why?  I had a good think about that today.  He's from my home state, Maryland.  And being so far away, any connection with home is exciting.  But that's not it. Its not even that he's got muscles in places I didn't even know muscles existed. (Though, I will admit, that is an added bonus.)

To explain this obsession, I have go back to the Spring of 2006.  I was working on my MA thesis at UMBC, and the Boston Red Sox were working for the Pennant.  My struggle to write the thesis mirrored their fight to win the World Series.  If the Boston Red Sox could finally win a World Series, I could finish my Masters degree!  They did, and I did.

But my current fascination with Phelps goes deeper than my motivational interest in the Sox. 

The picture I put on my computer isn't what you might be expecting; one of the posed shots with a Speedo and flexed muscles.  Instead, he is in the pool, pouring himself into his work, plowing through the water.  

Focused.  Committed.  Intense. Unstoppable.

Regardless of whether or not he actually does it... get all eight golds... just knowing, being reminded, that there is someone else out there (outside of academia) who is in pursuit of a dream--a dream that requires tremendous effort, sacrifice, and dedication to achieve within a limited time--its downright encouraging.

Knowing he's out there, pushing himself beyond his limits.

Pushing himself harder to be the best at doing what he loves.

Now that's the inspiration I have been looking for.

Home Sweet Home!

Well, we have finally moved into our house! After seven months of waiting, two hours of moving boxes with three friends and one and a half cars (the half car was a Mini), and two days of being "homeless", my friend Lisa and I have finally settled into our new digs! (We have two other housemates, Rachel and Mary, but they won't arrive until September!)

The house is perfectly located, less than 5 minutes from EVERYWHERE including the Library, the School of History, and the Reformation Studies Institute! Built in the 1720s, our little 20 x 25 foot abode used to house FIVE FAMILIES--two on the ground floor, two on the second floor, and one in the attic! Now, there is a kitchen/sitting room and a large bedroom on the ground floor, and three bedrooms, a full bath (with a tub!) and a half bath on the second floor. Its small, but cozy! AND we even have a back garden, that comes with a gas grill!

None of the walls are perfectly straight, and there are little niches and cubby holes everywhere, the hot water in the kitchen sink makes horrible moaning noises when you first turn it on, the kitchen could do with a serious overhall, the street noise can be a bit loud in the early morning, and I LOVE IT!

I love that the stairs wind upwards, and that I fear for myself when I hurry down them--because it means that my residence has two floors! I love the mismatched furniture--because its REAL furniture, not economical, uncomfortable university stuff (I finally have chairs and sofas with ARMS!) I love the buttery yellow color of the walls--because its not the institutional white of university housing. I love the creaky floorboards--because I've always wanted to live in a house older than 200 years! This one is getting close to 300! I love the old-lady-esque pictures on the walls--because it makes it look homey. I love the mess that the walled-in back garden is in--because the garden is all ours, and we can plant whatever we want. I can even tolerate the carpet in the bathrooms--because, well, I can't really explain that one!

My room is spacious and bright. When I woke up the first morning I was so disoriented! My room is 2 1/2 times the size of my room in Stanley Smith House, and I went from a single to a double bed! Plus, my windows are twice the size of my old one, and now I have TWO, verus the one in SSH! They landlords are even getting me a wingback chair to sit the the window nook! (The outside walls are about two feet thick, so the windows have deep recesses, perfect for curling up in a chair!) And the views from my windows aren't half bad! If I lean out a bit, I can see St. Salvators Tower! And the best part, I can actually WORK in my room! I couldn't stand to be in my room at SSH for extended periods of time. Despite my best efforts, it was still too gloomy. Now, I may never leave this new room!

Our landlords, Jerry and Linda Ann, are fantastic! Jerry came over to run through some of the details with us. He said that if there are any pieces of furniture or odds and ends (from brooms to casserole dishes)--within reason, that we need, they would get them for us!

I'm so excited to be living here. I certainly have been blessed! Getting it was totally a "God Thing". The day before I left St. Andy's for Christmas break, my friend Lisa and I were talking about renting a flat for the next school year. We were walking past Castlemount, a B&B owned by my former flatmate Jo's Rotary host family. (If you ever come to St. Andrews, I highly recommend Castlemount! It has some of the best views in town, the B&B is cozy and comfortable, and the owners are lovely!) I remembered that they rent out a flat in the B&B, and just as I mentioned it to Lisa, Jerry walked by! Long story short, the flat in the B&B wouldn't work, but they had a whole house that was available for as long as we needed it! I can live here until I graduate! The only exception will be two weeks during the British Open Golfing Championship in 2010. Jerry rented the house out years ago for those dates!

Speaking of graduating... Last week, in addition to moving I received the official letter from the University accepting me into the PhD program(me)--on the condition that I successfully complete the MLitt! So if all goes well... and I can write the goofy dissertation in the next four weeks... when I return to St. Andrews after September at home, I will be starting my three final years of higher education! And if things go according to plan, I'll be living here, in this house, for the duration!

Glorious St. Andrean Days

The last two days were the most beautiful, glorious days I've seen since I've been here!  A high of 72, bright and sunny, with a slight breeze!  Now, St. Andrews is generally a rather dry place--meaning that it doesn't rain here as often as in the rest of Scotland!  We often joke that St. Andrews has its own special weather atmosphere. But we certainly get our fair share of overcast skies and more than our fair share of gusty, chilly winds.  So my friends and I have been taking advantage of these fleeting glory days!

Monday I decided to eat my lunch at my favorite spot in town.  You guessed it.  The Cathedral!  I even managed to get some actual writing done on my dissertation... 500 words... before my friend Adam showed up!  We decided it was too gorgeous of a day to spend entirely doing school work.  So we nipped into the Cathedral visitors centre, got two tokens to go up St. Rule's Tower, and checked out the view from the top.  We then headed out to the Pier, and Deans Court.  It was a spectacular way to spend an afternoon! (For the record, we both hit the books again that evening!)

Yesterday Lisa, Faith, and I decided to meet up for lunch at a sidewalk cafe, and then headed off to -- surprise, surprise -- the Cathedral.  We stretched out in the sun a bit, and then decided to have some fun with my camera...  

Enjoy the fruits of our, er, labors (or lack-there-of)!   

"The Reik of Maister Patrik Hammyltoun"

Well, it is that time again!  Time for me to once again scale the ever growing, ever daunting, Mountain of Books.  Yesterday I received the green light from my supervisor to actually start writing my dissertation.  I've spent some time reading and researching practically every day this summer, and now it is time to put my thoughts and research to paper.  Roger (my supervisor) is pretty interested in my topic, which is always a good thing!  But "the proof will be in the pudding", as they say! (So don't be surprised if you don't hear from me for a while... I'll be "dissertating" until August 31st!)

I'm in the library just now doing some reading on Patrick Hamilton, the first martyr of the Scottish Reformation. As I sit here reading about his trial and execution, I can look out the window and see the spot where he was burned at the stake for believing in "justification by faith alone".

A brilliant student here at the University, Patrick was brought to trial for teaching 

the core theology of the Reformation which stated that man can do nothing to gain his own salvation.  It is only belief in the life, death, and resurrection of Christ that can rescue the soul.  After he was found guilty of heresy, he was immediately taken to the stake, which was set up outside of St. Salvator's College, in front of the Tower.  (The spot is marked today by a PH in the cobblestones). The execution, which took place on 29 February 1528, was slow and horrific.  The wood was damp and the gunpowder, which was used as a fire-starter, burned Patrick but failed to ignite the kindling.  While "normal" burnings would last about an hour, with the victim dying of suffocation before being burned, Patrick Hamilton suffered for more than six hours.  One observer claimed that he "was more roasted than burned." 

He was 23 years old. 

St. Andrews lore claims that the face visible in the stones a third of the way up St. Salvator's Tower is that of Patrick Hamilton, looking out over the place of his martyrdom.

Regardless of the lore, his death was a turning point.  As one historian writes, "his courage, brilliance, and gentleness provided an inspiration and model."  John Lindsay, a witness to the martyrdom, was correct when he forsaw that, "the reek of Master Patrick Hamilton has infected as many as it blew upon." Patrick Hamilton's death sparked a Reformation in Scotland.

Can you imagine, being 23 years old and holding so tightly to your convictions that you are willing to die for them?  Can you imagine being 33, 43, 53, or 63?  

A Good Ol' Fashioned American 4th...In Britain.

My friends and I celebrated 232 years of American Independence from Britain... in Britain. We realized the irony. Particularly when the Colonials were outnumbered by Commonwealthers (and former Commonwealthers)!   Correction, the American's celebrated Independence Day and our British and former-Commonwealth friends celebrated "When-The-Americans-Ceased-To-Be-Our-Problem Day"!

We had a good old fashioned American cookout in my friend Jo's backyard.  So what if the ruins of a 14th century Scottish Cathedral were visible on one side, and part of a 12th century chapel was built into another garden wall!  And the traditional baseball game was replaced by a football (soccer) match!  But the weather, which had been threatening to be rotten behaved itself, and Andy, our buddy from Tennessee fixed the best burgers we've eaten since we've been here!  I made baked beans and an apple pie.  Jo made chocolate chip cookies which were the hit of the party! (They don't have REAL cookies here!) Our friends chipped in with potato salad, strawberry shortcake, coleslaw, fruit salad, and more! We even managed to find some real watermelons!  They were tiny, and grossly overpriced, but its not the Fourth without them!  It was quite a spread. One that Uncle Sam would be proud of!

 

I missed the parade and fireworks we have back home, but who else had the opportunity to celebrate America's Birthday with 7 Americans, a Canadian, 2 Englishmen and an English woman, 2 South Africans, 3 Irishmen and an Irishwoman, a Chinese guy, and a Spaniard?  That's not an opportunity that presents itself every July 4th!

(To see pictures from our International 4th of July, click on the title of this post!)

The Haar

It comes off of the North Sea, making its way through the Cathedral ruins, to stroll through the streets.  The Haar.  A misty, chilly sea breeze that swirls and rolls down South Street like it is taking a stroll, popping into shops to do its afternoon shopping.  Rolling in off the sea, dissolving into small knots, which float their way down streets and up closes.  You can observe one patch coming, watch it pass over and around (and through) you, continuing, unobstructed, up the street. 

The first time I ever saw the Haar, I was sitting in the library.  I looked up from my books on a lovely sunny day to see wisps of what I assumed to be smoke curling and swirling their way up North Street.  I initially thought there was a fire down the street, until the mists thickened and a cloud rolled through, engulfing St. Salvators, the library, and my view of the street.  

The chilly haze of the Haar settles in around town on otherwise sunny days, lasting but a few hours at most, to be eventually burned off by the sun or blown away by the sea breezes.  It is not an all-covering blanket.  It settles here and there, like patches of melting snow.  One can turn down one bright street into a pedestrian lane and encounter a cool mist that paused there, for a rest, on its journey from the Cathedral to the West Port.

Missing REAL Summer

It does NOT feel like summer over here. And that is having detrimental effects on my dissertating! It does not FEEL like July starts today. It feels like the start of May. I must admit that I actually MISS the miserable, humid, sticky, hot Maryland summer! Then at least it would FEEL like summer!

I know, I know, I shouldn't complain about a high of 64 on June 3oth (and 71 on July 1--the hottest day we have had so far). And I never in a million years thought that I would complain! But here I am, lamenting a summer without heat and humidity. What a strange world we live in. These crazy Scots

 think that's hot! Seriously! I'm still wearing a cardigan and they're donning the shorts, t-shirts, and flip flops!

And the heat isn't the only thing I've been missing this summer. Just so you don't think I've got it made here in the good ol' UK, here are some of the things I've been missing about home this summer:

Rides on the Harley

Bloom's Broom Ice Cream ("Rice Pudding" to be exact!)

Starbucks/Barnes & Noble with Amber and Kathy

Summer accessories at Target

The Promenade in Havre de Grace

Teen Boat Building and the Kids Camps by the Bay at the Museum

The Maritime Festival

Shopping trips to Lancaster with Mom

Chick-fil-A and Rita's with Liz

Old Navy flip flops

Lightening bugs

A school-work free summer

DEEP CREEK LAKE
A decent oldies station
Maryland seafood (mostly steamed crabs!)

TGIFriday's restaurant

Movies in a big theater

Further proof that no matter where you go, there are always patches of grass that are greener on the other side...

Gowns, and Hoods, and Kilts, Oh My!

This week is Graduation Week here at the oldest University in Scotland.  Everywhere are graduands (the official name for degree candidates about to graduate) and graduates (folks who have just graduated).  They are cruising around town with their gowns billowing out behind them.  The graduating undergraduates have traded in their traditional Scarlet Robes, and are now donning their Black Gowns.  Since the gowns are open in the front, guys wear their tuxedos or formal kilts underneath.  Let me tell you, they look quite sharp!  The girls look shabby by comparison, with black skirts and white blouses.  No match for a kilt or tux, I assure you!

There is a lot of symbolism involved in the graduation rituals and ceremonies, including the change from Scarlet to black robes.  The Scarlet Robe, a signature of St. Andrew undergraduates, is known as the Robe of Ignorance.  Each year of university, the gown is slowly shed in what is jokingly called "the academic striptease".  First-years wear their gown squarely on both shoulders.  Second-year Arts students wear it off their right shoulder while Second-year Science students wear it off the left.  Third-years wear it off both shoulders, and Fourth-years wear it down their back, all the way off the shoulders, down around the elbows.  This is supposed to symbolize the shedding of Ignorance through education.  To further symbolize this transition, they graduate in Black robes.  All graduands, regardless of degree wear the same black gown.  The only difference is the hood.  Masters graduates receive bigger hoods than undergrads, and PhD receive even larger hoods than the Masters.  

Adding to the physical symbolism of the ritual, at their graduation ceremonies (each School/Department has its own ceremony), each graduand will individually kneel before the Chancellor of the University, and receive a bop on the head from the Chancellor's scarlet cloth cap (legend has it that part of it is made from John Knox's knickers!), be hooded, and officially be named "Graduate".  Since they don't do hats here (with the exception of the Chancellor's cap), there is none of that tassel nonsense!  Oh!  And its ALL in Latin.

There is an extra bit added to the PhD aspect of the ceremony.  Following the hooding, they step to the side and ceremonially do a little costume change.  Their black gown is removed and they put on a Saltire Blue gown, matching the blue hood they have just had conferred on them.  It is then that they are officially graduated.  Nothing like pulling a little Superman change to add some drama to receiving the highest degree!  (I leave it up to you to figure out what it all means!)

If all goes well with my dissertation I will be attending my MLitt graduation in November, on St. Andrew's Day.  And, God willing, I'll be pulling a "Superman change" of my own in 2011!

(On a side note, I don't know any of the people in these pictures!  I just found them online.  And for anyone who is interested, that's Prince William getting hooded and bopped on the head with John Knox's knickers, er, the Chancellor's Cap!)

 

Day All Night

Today is the longest day of the year... making tonight the shortest evening of the year!  Here in St. Andrews that is quite apparent.  We are far enough north that this evening the sky won't actually get dark.  The sun will disappear below the horizon, unlike in Alaska or Scandinavia, but its light will not completely leave the sky.  Case-in-point: the photo of Holy Trinity Church Tower to the left was taken yesterday at 10:15... in the evening!  

It certainly makes for wonderfully long summer days (the sun will start to make its presence very known around 2:30, when the birds start chirping and squawking).  But keep in mind, we make up for it in the winter.  December 21st saw the sun rising at 9am and fully set by 3pm.   

Oh, Scotland.

A Bit of Home Sweet Home Comes to St. Andy's

In the interim between blogs my Dad came to visit me! He had been in Jordan leading a business training seminar. And since he would be flying over the UK on his way back home, he took a couple of extra days to come across to Scotland! It was wonderful! I was so excited in the weeks leading up to his visit that I'm sure all of my friends were getting tired of hearing me say "my dad is coming!"

He arrived on the morning of June 6th and we never stopped running! I met him at the airport in Edinburgh and he rented a car. While he was here we drove over much of Fife, and saw Glamis and Pitlochry. We hung out with my friends and did lots of walking! Dad met two of my professors, Steve and Roger. Dad and I even went to a Christian music festival in Edinburgh where we saw Chris Tomlin and the David Crowder Band!

I must admit that I was in a bit of a daze the whole time he was here, mainly because I couldn't believe he was actually here! I still can't! I have to look at the photos to believe it!

Speaking of photos, if you want to see pictures from my dad's visit, just click on "A Bit of Home Sweet Home Comes to St. Andy's"! There are still more to come!

But for now, its back to the grindstone! The dissertation is calling...

Before the Parade Passes By

I spent much of the afternoon today studying at "Couch", a little coffee shop located on Bell Street with a fantastic front window that overlooks the street.  As befits the shop name, they have two large comfy leather couches positioned by the window.  I commandeered one of those couches, bought a pot of tea, and settled in for some dissertation reading.  I was the only customer in the shop and the summer sunshine was streaming in.  Perfect!  

At one point as I looked up from my sixteenth century ballads I caught a glimpse of a Royal Air Force Airman walking down the street.  It is not uncommon to see a couple of uniformed airmen in St. Andrews, as Leuchars Air Force Base is so close that I've grown accustomed to the roar of the fighter jets flying maneuvers on a daily basis.  I was just musing on the merits of the RAF uniform when a group of four jets, in formation, zoomed by overhead.  The fly-over was soon followed by the sound of bagpipes and drums--also not so uncommon, after all, this is Scotland!  

What followed was out of the ordinary, for up the street, proceeded by a police escort, marched an RAF unit--complete with kilted pipe and drum corp, white gloves, and bayoneted rifles.  The whole procession took all of 7 minutes to traverse the length of the street and turn onto Market Street.  (Unfortunately, I didn't have my camera!)

Apparently, in 1968, the Royal Burgh of St. Andrews granted the RAF Station at Leuchars the "Freedom of the City".  According to the barrista, the RAF does this little parade every year to demonstrate their right to march in the streets of St. Andrews.  

Ah, I love quirky British traditions!  Especially when they involve men in uniform!

Scenery

Once again, St. Andrews was graced with a gorgeous day!  And once again, I packed up the books and headed to the Cathedral ruins.  But this time I was joined by my friend and classmate, Adam. As we were sitting on our blanket studying (or attempting to study) a small film crew entered the Cathedral grounds.  

One of the Professors of Medieval History has been hosting some documentaries for the BBC, the most recent of which is on The Medieval Mind.  And they must have been in the process of filming a new one.  Before Adam and I realized what was going on, the crew had moved on.  But we're pretty sure we're sitting in the background.  As scenery.  Staring at the camera.  Like those obnoxious people you see milling about in the background of movies, the ones who don't have the sense to look casual and disinterested.

Ironically, earlier I had decided against spreading my blanket in the cloister because I didn't want to ruin any tourist's pictures.  Upon further reflection Adam decided that we would have only enhanced the photo.  St. Andrew's students studying in the ruins of the Cathedral.  Very picturesque indeed.  Like Oxford or Cambridge students bicycling down the street in their respective towns.  

Well, instead of ruining some random tourist's photograph, Adam and I now have the potential to look like prime losers, however briefly, in a BBC documentary.  One can only hope that we are edited out!  It would not do for our supervisors to see us looking dumbstruck.  And worse... not actually studying!

Oh the joys of living in St. Andy's.  You never know what or who you'll come across in a day!  And it would appear that the Cathedral is turning out to be quite an interesting spot for me!

If You Build It...

I'm watching 'Field of Dreams'. On Scottish television. And for some reason, it feels slightly surreal. Maybe its because they don't even PLAY baseball over here!

I have forgotten how much I love this movie! A man hearing voices ('If you build it, he will come'). America's pastime. A cute kid. Shoeless Joe Jackson. Darth Vader's voice, without the creepy breathing. What's not to love?

Most of all, it reminds me of my grandfathers. Both Cecil and Pop loved baseball! Pop was always going to games, both major and minor league. And Cec would be listening to the Yankees game while watching the Orioles play on TV.

So in honor of Cecil and Pop, and the game they loved, I've included the following poem, for your reading pleasure. 'The Crack of A Bat' was written sometime in the 1950s or 60s by an American journalist working in Europe. Every spring its published in the International Herald Tribune. That's where I found it, in 2002, while waiting in a German airport. I've carried it in my wallet ever since. Cec and Pop, I miss you.

THE CRACK OF A BAT by Dick Roraback

Away on this side of the ocean
When the chestnuts are hinting of green

And the first of the café commandos

Are moving outside for a fine

And the sound of spring beats a bolero

As Paree sheds her coat and her hat

The sound that is missed more than any

Is the sound of the crack of a bat.

There’s an animal kind of feeling

There’s a stirring down at Vincennes Zoo

And the kid down the hall’s getting restless

Taking stairs like a young kangaroo

Now the dandy is walking his poodle

And the concierge sunning her cat

But the heart’s with the Cubs and the Tigers

And the sound of the crack of a bat.

In the park on the corner run schoolboys

With a couple of cartons for props

Kicking goals à la Fontaine or Kopa

While a little guy chikies for cops

“Goal for us,” “No it’s not,” “You’re a liar,”

Then the classical shrieks of a spat

But it’s not like a rhubarb at home plate

Or the sound of the crack of a bat.

Here the stadia thrill to the scrumdowns

And the soccer fans flock to the games

And the chic punt the nags out a Longchamp

Where the women are dames and not dames

But it’s different at Forbes and at Griffith

The homes of the Buc and the Nat

Where the hotdog and peanut share laurels

With the sound of the crack of a bat.

No, a Yank can’t describe to a Frenchman

The rasp of an umpire’s call
The continuing charms of statistics

Changing hist’ry with each strike and ball

Nor the self-conscious jog of the slugger

Rounding third with the tip of his hat

Nor the half-smothered grace of a hook slide

Nor the sound of the crack of a bat.

Now, the golfer is buffing his niblick

And the tennis buff’s tightening his strings

And the fisherman’s flexing his flyrod

Like a thousand and one other springs
Oh, the sports on both sides of the ocean

Have a great deal in common, at that

But the thing that’s not HERE

At this time of the year

Is the sound of the crack of a bat.

Mad Hatter

There was a wedding at Holy Trinity Church today. (Yes, on a Tuesday.  Weird, I know.)  How did I know it was a wedding?  Well, it wasn't the bagpiper in front of the church.  It wasn't the men in tuxedos and formal kilts milling about.  It wasn't the crowd of towns people, students, and tourists gathering around to catch a glimpse of the bride.  It wasn't even the little kid dressed to the nines that gave it away.

It was the hats. 

 
British women love their hats.  Particularly for weddings.  Hats of all shapes, colors, and sizes. Big hats that small aircraft could land on. Small hats that barely deserve the title.  Hats that perfectly match the color of the outfit.  Hats that accent the subtle tones of the accessories. Hats with feathers. Hats with bows. Hats with birds.  Yes, birds.  Hats of organza and other sheer, filmy material.  Hats that look so heavy you wonder how she can hold their head up.

Don't get me wrong, I love hats!  I could totally get used to wearing hats here!  But I draw the line when they look like an Easter Parade gone horribly wrong!  

The Not-So-Cloistered Academic Life

Today was beautiful.  A high of 58, a little windy, but lovely nonetheless.  Too lovely to spend wasting away in the University's fortress/bunker-inspired library.  So I grabbed my books and headed to the Cathedral.  In ruins since the mid-sixteenth century, the Cathedral dominates the eastern end of town.  What remains of the cloister, a large square of lawn surrounded on two and half sides by high stone walls, is the perfect place for a picnic, sunbathing, and the occasional studying student.  

I found a wonderfully sunny niche in western facing wall, pulled out a book, and started reading.  Surrounded by stones hewn in the fourteenth century, protected from the wind, I officially began working on my MLitt dissertation.  I had been pleasantly sequestered in my little nook, delving into The Gude and Godlie Ballatis (the primary source for my dissertation) for about an hour when I heard a scratchy voice ask "Are you preparing for exams?"  I poked my head out of my alcove.   

There he was, a stooped, elderly Scotsman with a cane.  In fact, I had heard the cane, clicking on the cobbles, before I had heard the voice.  He smiled at me and asked again if I was preparing for exams.  I replied that I was a postgraduate student and did not have exams, though it was not something you say too loudly within hearing of the undergrads, they might lynch you.  (Side note: Another reason for not studying in the library was that it had become a beehive of activity, peopled by frantic undergrads preparing for their final exams, desperate looks in their eyes.  The tension in the air was palpable.  Which does not make for a pleasant studying experience.)  He introduced himself.  His name was Roland.  Upon discovering that my name was Elizabeth, his smile broadened.  His mother was named Elizabeth.  And he had an aunt on his father's side named Elizabeth.  They had both been in the Salvation Army and had often been confused for each other.  Apparently, that is how his parents met--when the two Elizabeths had decided that since they were constantly being confused for each other, they should meet.  They became friends, and eventually Roland's aunt-to-be introduced her brother to Roland's mother.  

We chatted on for another fifteen minutes or so about the University, the hymns of John and Charles Wesley, and what Bill Clinton's title would be if Hilary became President.  First Man?  First Gentleman?  Mr. President?  (The Brits, and most Europeans for that matter, have a turned US Election speculation into something of a national pastime.)  And just as suddenly as he had initiated conversation, with another smile he wished me the best in my studies and continued on his way, his cane clicking on the cobblestones as he rounded the corner and disappeared into the Cathedral nave.

So often, when I am in "school mode" I get so caught up in my own world of academia that I forget that I am on this pilgrimage of life with the rest of the human race.  Every now and then something will cause me to poke my head out of my academic alcove, and encounter the rest of the world.  It is nice to be reminded that there is more to that life than books.  Thank you Roland.

Peer Pressure

I swore I would never blog.  That would be adventuring too far into the realm of Geekdom for this book nerd.  And it would be too, well, 21st century.  After all, according to my not-so-little brother I am 478 years old and I'm a little slow catching on to the whole technology thing.  But here I am.  Blogging.  I have officially succumbed to peer pressure.  Just like I did with MySpace, facebook, iPods, and text messaging.  (But I will remain stalwart when it comes to Crocs!  What a ridiculous excuse for a shoe!)  Call me weak, call me a push-over, call me what you will ("procrastinator" is probably the best adjective at the moment...I should be working on my dissertation) but I have decided to give it a try.  So here I am.  Officially entering the realm of Geekdom.  And its all your fault, Walter.