Monday, December 24, 2007
Bangor
I’ve just returned from walking to and from the midnight service at St. Comgall’s, so technically it’s Christmas Day, but since I haven’t been to bed yet I’m still counting it as Christmas Eve. We're getting a hard frost tonight - lawns and hedges were turning eerily whitish under the light of the streetlights as I hoofed it home.
The house smells like Christmas, all cinnamony and sagey, from the sausage/onion/celery/mushroom dressing that I made a day ahead of time and the Snickerdoodle cookies that Reed and I baked this afternoon. Reed really got into rolling the dough into balls and putting them in the cinnamon sugar; then he made a few modifications on the last ones, putting the sugar on the inside of the cookie which he then named “sugar pockets.” When I was a child I always put Snickerdoodles out for Santa on Christmas Eve and I continue this tradition today – although I can’t tell Reed what’s going on because for some reason this year he decided that he wanted the arrival of Christmas day to be a surprise.
That means he didn’t want to do the Advent calendar, because opening up the little windows every day would mean he would know how many days left till Christmas. We can’t tell him it’s Christmas Eve, or give a hint that tonight was a midnight service at church. We’ve almost given it away a few times but fortunately he hasn’t been paying much attention, because to spoil this for him would be a huge disappointment – the kind that would elicit a long round of despairing sobs from him, and that he would bring up over and over again over the next few years, the way he does other memorable distressing moments.
This morning I fetched last minute groceries and picked up the ducks from the butcher that I’ll be slow-roasting in a honey-orange glaze. I also splashed out on a small plastic jar of goose fat “for the perfect roast potatoes,” having been assured by several celebrity chefs on t.v. in the last few weeks – including Jamie Oliver, the newest object of my celeb affections - that goose fat is the only way to go. Since the potatoes we cooked at Verderonne in duck fat were stupendous I’m inclined to believe them. The lines – or queues as they call them in Britain – were amazingly long at the butchers’ downtown. I waited half an hour, along with lots of other cheerfully waiting folks, for my turn. In America a line that long might have been full of grouches, complaining about the slow service. For all I know the line at the other butchers was grouchy – but mine, at least, was not. This afternoon I also parboiled the potatoes and carrots that tomorrow will be roasted in the goose fat. The potatoes here are floury rather than waxy, and judging by television and newspaper hype getting the roast potatoes right on Christmas Day is my most pressing holiday mission – maybe not even as important as the roast bird. The most common bird for Christmas is turkey, which took over for goose when battery (confined) poultry farming made turkey cheaper. But since we just had turkey a few weeks ago we’re doing something different. We’re skipping the mince pie and Christmas pudding since we don’t really care much for either one; Reed chose lemon cake from the list of possibilities.
We hemmed and hawed about getting a tree, since they’re rather expensive at 30 pounds sterling, and we don’t have a car. We tried convincing him that lights on an outdoor tree would be acceptable. I even appealed to his sense of environmental justice by pointing out that by just doing a tree outside would mean we wouldn’t have to kill a tree. Normally I don’t use such strong language but I was pulling no punches. Still, he begged for a real tree, and last Monday I set out downtown determined to find one, and get it home in a taxi. The plan was foiled when the taxi company said they wouldn’t do it. But the produce shop on High Street which is also dealing in Christmas trees said he’d deliver it for us. So I paid him part of the money, and a few hours later, he dropped it off on the doorstep and I paid him the rest.
Then I couldn’t find a Christmas tree stand, but, ever resourceful, I found a plastic bucket and some big rocks that worked just great as a stand. I had to rearrange some of the furniture in the front room to make room for the tree – I thought I’d gotten a smallish one but not really – and then Reed promptly got to work decorating it. He spent several hours on the project non-stop, carefully distributing the glittery ornaments evenly. I helped with the colored lights and the garlands and he did everything else.
We finished the Baileys last night – one night too soon!
Monday, December 24, 2007
Friday, December 14, 2007
Mince Pies, Tea, Chocolate, and Bailey's Irish Cream
Friday, December 14, 2007
Bangor
On Monday evening this week after Reed and I got home from his violin lesson, I turned right around and went back to one of the Presbyterian churches to meet our neighbor June at the women’s group gathering. She of course offered to give me a ride with her in the car but I’d gotten a little bus sick on the way home with Reed and couldn’t face getting in another vehicle. Besides, it was a lovely crisp night – frosty in fact – and I couldn’t resist a walk in the dark under the stars.
Everyone was very nice to me of course, and the presentation was of a lot of lovely Christmas craft items made by a pastor’s wife from a nearby town – and she does absolutely amazing work. I still find myself most interested in fabrics, and in making things to wear or use, as opposed to knickknacks for putting on a shelf to gather dust. The most fun thing was when several of the ladies heard me say something about “my son” the general reaction was that looked quite too young to have a child. That quite tickled me – although maybe it says more about my casual clothes and untamed hair than it does about my actual face, I don’t know. But I like to think that I’m looking younger these days, a sort of glow of happiness perhaps. Afterwards we all had hot tea and mince pies and shortbread while everyone chatted and looked closely at the craft items on display. I didn’t try to explain that we’ve already sort of committed ourselves to the parish church for Sunday services – but I’ll probably go with June to some other events, as she is good company and it’s fun to get out and about.
We’ve been eating well these days; lots of soup especially. Today we made a sort of combination of turkey-rice with split pea and ham and it was great. I got some pork chops for dinner the other day, and made some fresh applesauce to go with them, and boiled Charlotte potatoes. Mmm. For lunch yesterday I made our favorite refried bean enchiladas, discovering that although they don’t sell canned refried beans in the store it’s dead easy to make them myself with cooked beans. And yesterday I made bread that turned out wonderfully- so wonderfully in fact that when it came out of the oven at 4 pm we all decided that’s what we wanted for dinner. Walt made turkey sandwiches for himself and Reed and I ate two big pieces spread with butter and honey, alongside an apple w/ peanut butter. Not fancy but my goodness it hit the spot. Every once in a while you have to relax the mealtime thing, and let yourself eat cold cereal, or bread and butter. I’m finding that eating the main meal at lunch works quite well, so we do that several times a week – then our digestive systems don’t have such hard work to do right before bed. Sometimes I’ve not even felt like eating dinner on days when we’ve had a good lunch – an amazing thing for me, who is usually raring for every meal and snack.
I do have a couple of downfalls here, though, since it is Christmas: After Eight mints and Cadbury’s chocolate oranges. And Walt and I gave each other an early present the other day: a bottle of Baileys Irish Cream. That’s the perfect dessert in front of the fire after Reed’s tucked away in bed at last. But I have to say I really hate the Bailey’s t.v. commercial they’ve got out this season, with the slow motion closeup of the woman’s face as she shakes up the Bailey’s and ice. Really not attractive. I drink Baileys in spite of that and I bet other people do too.
Bangor
On Monday evening this week after Reed and I got home from his violin lesson, I turned right around and went back to one of the Presbyterian churches to meet our neighbor June at the women’s group gathering. She of course offered to give me a ride with her in the car but I’d gotten a little bus sick on the way home with Reed and couldn’t face getting in another vehicle. Besides, it was a lovely crisp night – frosty in fact – and I couldn’t resist a walk in the dark under the stars.
Everyone was very nice to me of course, and the presentation was of a lot of lovely Christmas craft items made by a pastor’s wife from a nearby town – and she does absolutely amazing work. I still find myself most interested in fabrics, and in making things to wear or use, as opposed to knickknacks for putting on a shelf to gather dust. The most fun thing was when several of the ladies heard me say something about “my son” the general reaction was that looked quite too young to have a child. That quite tickled me – although maybe it says more about my casual clothes and untamed hair than it does about my actual face, I don’t know. But I like to think that I’m looking younger these days, a sort of glow of happiness perhaps. Afterwards we all had hot tea and mince pies and shortbread while everyone chatted and looked closely at the craft items on display. I didn’t try to explain that we’ve already sort of committed ourselves to the parish church for Sunday services – but I’ll probably go with June to some other events, as she is good company and it’s fun to get out and about.
We’ve been eating well these days; lots of soup especially. Today we made a sort of combination of turkey-rice with split pea and ham and it was great. I got some pork chops for dinner the other day, and made some fresh applesauce to go with them, and boiled Charlotte potatoes. Mmm. For lunch yesterday I made our favorite refried bean enchiladas, discovering that although they don’t sell canned refried beans in the store it’s dead easy to make them myself with cooked beans. And yesterday I made bread that turned out wonderfully- so wonderfully in fact that when it came out of the oven at 4 pm we all decided that’s what we wanted for dinner. Walt made turkey sandwiches for himself and Reed and I ate two big pieces spread with butter and honey, alongside an apple w/ peanut butter. Not fancy but my goodness it hit the spot. Every once in a while you have to relax the mealtime thing, and let yourself eat cold cereal, or bread and butter. I’m finding that eating the main meal at lunch works quite well, so we do that several times a week – then our digestive systems don’t have such hard work to do right before bed. Sometimes I’ve not even felt like eating dinner on days when we’ve had a good lunch – an amazing thing for me, who is usually raring for every meal and snack.
I do have a couple of downfalls here, though, since it is Christmas: After Eight mints and Cadbury’s chocolate oranges. And Walt and I gave each other an early present the other day: a bottle of Baileys Irish Cream. That’s the perfect dessert in front of the fire after Reed’s tucked away in bed at last. But I have to say I really hate the Bailey’s t.v. commercial they’ve got out this season, with the slow motion closeup of the woman’s face as she shakes up the Bailey’s and ice. Really not attractive. I drink Baileys in spite of that and I bet other people do too.
Thursday, December 13, 2007
A Windless Day
Thursday, December 13, 2007
Bangor
Walt and Reed are out doing yardwork today – it looks like they’re experimenting with weaving a little fence out of palm leaves, something that Reed could totally throw himself into. Walt has spent a lot of time the past couple days preparing Christmas cards to send to all our friends and family – and today he vacuumed too. Who knew he had such impulses in him? It’s all a matter of having enough time, I guess. I’ve been busy with the newsletter for the hatchery in Sitka but finished it earlier this week, so I’ve had the pleasure of knowing a check is on its way to my bank account for that. Yesterday I successfully pitched four stories to the Spokesman-Review, so it’s good to have some upcoming projects for the next couple of months. One of them involves going to the Belle Isle Cookery School in Lesbellaw, near Enniskillen, for a weekend cooking class in January which I’m very much looking forward to.
Reed and I had a wonderful day Tuesday. My end of project good mood was enhanced by a very rare, almost completely windless day. The sea looked smooth as glass at times, the first we’ve seen it like that. So Reed and I walked along the trail slowly – with me in an almost Zen-like state of contentment - as we made our way into town to go to the charity shop for a sheet, and then to the pool for a swim. Other people on the trail were cheerful too, so lovely was it to be outside. A brown Labrador named Stella was overjoyed to be running like the wind after a ball her human was flinging for her, and we watched a skipper on his boat very close by pulling up his crab pots, emptying them, and then setting them again.
Wednesday was less than perfect but I couldn’t expect days like Tuesday to happen very often. Reed has learned how to tell time better in the last couple of days and is making good progress with his reading, addition, subtraction, and multiplication. So I guess we’re not total losers as homeschoolers. I am also able to get Reed to practice his violin 6 days a week now. Sometimes we’re good for only 10 minutes and sometimes it stretches out to half an hour – but he seems to be having a better time since I explained to him recently that he’s supposed to make mistakes while he’s practicing. It was kind of a pep talk to me too, a reminder that if I wince or frown when he screws up, that he’ll be more discouraged than motivated. Besides, he knows when he makes a mistake, it’s not like he needs me to point it out, does he?!
Bangor
Walt and Reed are out doing yardwork today – it looks like they’re experimenting with weaving a little fence out of palm leaves, something that Reed could totally throw himself into. Walt has spent a lot of time the past couple days preparing Christmas cards to send to all our friends and family – and today he vacuumed too. Who knew he had such impulses in him? It’s all a matter of having enough time, I guess. I’ve been busy with the newsletter for the hatchery in Sitka but finished it earlier this week, so I’ve had the pleasure of knowing a check is on its way to my bank account for that. Yesterday I successfully pitched four stories to the Spokesman-Review, so it’s good to have some upcoming projects for the next couple of months. One of them involves going to the Belle Isle Cookery School in Lesbellaw, near Enniskillen, for a weekend cooking class in January which I’m very much looking forward to.
Reed and I had a wonderful day Tuesday. My end of project good mood was enhanced by a very rare, almost completely windless day. The sea looked smooth as glass at times, the first we’ve seen it like that. So Reed and I walked along the trail slowly – with me in an almost Zen-like state of contentment - as we made our way into town to go to the charity shop for a sheet, and then to the pool for a swim. Other people on the trail were cheerful too, so lovely was it to be outside. A brown Labrador named Stella was overjoyed to be running like the wind after a ball her human was flinging for her, and we watched a skipper on his boat very close by pulling up his crab pots, emptying them, and then setting them again.
Wednesday was less than perfect but I couldn’t expect days like Tuesday to happen very often. Reed has learned how to tell time better in the last couple of days and is making good progress with his reading, addition, subtraction, and multiplication. So I guess we’re not total losers as homeschoolers. I am also able to get Reed to practice his violin 6 days a week now. Sometimes we’re good for only 10 minutes and sometimes it stretches out to half an hour – but he seems to be having a better time since I explained to him recently that he’s supposed to make mistakes while he’s practicing. It was kind of a pep talk to me too, a reminder that if I wince or frown when he screws up, that he’ll be more discouraged than motivated. Besides, he knows when he makes a mistake, it’s not like he needs me to point it out, does he?!
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
Coastal Views in Bangor, County Down
The top view is of the backyard at the house we're taking care of; the coastal views are about a 10 minute walk away. We walk along this coast on the trail that goes for miles in both directions.
Streetscapes in Bangor, County Down
The top photo shows our street in Bangor. The rest are of some of the streets we walk down every day, between home and downtown.
Monday, December 10, 2007
Make Me Into A Shepherd
Reed dipping candles at the Rudolf Steiner school in Holywood last Saturday.
St. Comgall's Bangor Parish Church - where Reed will be playing a shepherd for this Sunday's nativity service.
Monday, December 10, 2007
Bangor
When I was in graduate school, and prone to spending my weekends too much with Walt and too little with my studies, a sense of desperate unhappiness used to steal over me as Sunday evening approached, until by 9 pm I was quite sad. I mention that now because I haven’t noticed that feeling for a very long time – at least not since I started working for myself, and Sunday stopped being the bittersweet day that marked the beginning of another stressful week. Nowadays Sunday evenings are rather delicious, in fact, since in the U.S. there is usually a Masterpiece Theatre on PBS, and here in the U.K., any number of choices like Miss Marple or one of those real estate shows I now love, like Relocation Relocation. Earlier this weekend we even got a dose of Mr. Bean and Blackadder, although a little of that goes a long way. They’re best rationed out, one every few weeks or so, instead of a whole bunch of them in a row as the comedy channel seems to do.
Hard to believe that a week ago Walt and I were completely flat out all day Monday from some kind of flu bug. Reed fetched us water whenever we needed it all day long, and fixed himself his own snacks and lunch, since I was not up to the task. I was able to eat again on Tuesday, and by later in the week was feeling quite normal again. I was glad it didn’t hit me badly until after I’d gotten home from the Advent candlelight service at church on Sunday night – shiveringly lovely, singing by candlelight some carols I knew – O come O come Emmanuel – and several that I didn’t. The choir had obviously rehearsed very long and hard as some of their pieces were quite difficult, one even based on a Gregorian chant. The flu got me later in the evening, and even though I was somewhat awake in the middle of the night when it turned out Walt was coming down with it, I wasn’t aware that the thunk I heard in the downstairs bathroom was Walt passing out!
After a week of recovery I was ready to get out and about so even though Saturday dawned with the worst weather yet – pouring rain and blowing hard – Reed and I braved the weather and took the train to Holywood to go to the Rudolf Steiner school’s annual Advent crafts festival. We called a taxi from a gas station very near the station and arrived at the school just in time for the opening carol singing and candle lighting. The rest of the day was spent making our way between the various buildings, dodging other hordes of children and their parents, trying to keep out of the puddles inbetween, waiting in line for food, and choosing a select few crafts for Reed to do. The first was dipping beeswax candles by hand. Reed loves doing that so much I might have to get him the equipment to do it at home eventually – maybe he could sell them, since he loves setting up a little market stand too. Later I helped him make a wreath out of fresh cut evergreen boughs, something else he was thrilled to create. He chose some little sprays with pink berries on them for the finishing touches – but we don’t know what shrub they were from and neither did the person who was in charge. He also enjoyed the petting zoo, where he handled a friendly snake and a tortoise, and stroked a hamster or guinea pig for a long while, while I waited outside under my umbrella. We headed home, content, later in the afternoon and once again arrived home just as darkness was falling, candles and wreath intact.
Yesterday Reed came out of Sunday School with two notes, one about the dress rehearsal this Saturday for the children’s nativity program, and another that requested “Please make me into a shepherd for our nativity service.” I’ve got to figure out what he can wear, aside from the tea towel on his head. Maybe I’ll buy an old sheet at one of the charity shops and quickly sew him a kind of long tunic. I’m not too great at this kind of thing yet but I think I can manage that at least. I wonder if Reed realizes the significance of being a shepherd in the nativity play, since he has actual experience shepherding goats and sheep in the Auvergne hills. If I was a more theatrical-oriented person I might observe that he could really bring a depth of understanding to his shepherd performance by drawing on that... but I'm not, thank goodness.
St. Comgall's Bangor Parish Church - where Reed will be playing a shepherd for this Sunday's nativity service.
Monday, December 10, 2007
Bangor
When I was in graduate school, and prone to spending my weekends too much with Walt and too little with my studies, a sense of desperate unhappiness used to steal over me as Sunday evening approached, until by 9 pm I was quite sad. I mention that now because I haven’t noticed that feeling for a very long time – at least not since I started working for myself, and Sunday stopped being the bittersweet day that marked the beginning of another stressful week. Nowadays Sunday evenings are rather delicious, in fact, since in the U.S. there is usually a Masterpiece Theatre on PBS, and here in the U.K., any number of choices like Miss Marple or one of those real estate shows I now love, like Relocation Relocation. Earlier this weekend we even got a dose of Mr. Bean and Blackadder, although a little of that goes a long way. They’re best rationed out, one every few weeks or so, instead of a whole bunch of them in a row as the comedy channel seems to do.
Hard to believe that a week ago Walt and I were completely flat out all day Monday from some kind of flu bug. Reed fetched us water whenever we needed it all day long, and fixed himself his own snacks and lunch, since I was not up to the task. I was able to eat again on Tuesday, and by later in the week was feeling quite normal again. I was glad it didn’t hit me badly until after I’d gotten home from the Advent candlelight service at church on Sunday night – shiveringly lovely, singing by candlelight some carols I knew – O come O come Emmanuel – and several that I didn’t. The choir had obviously rehearsed very long and hard as some of their pieces were quite difficult, one even based on a Gregorian chant. The flu got me later in the evening, and even though I was somewhat awake in the middle of the night when it turned out Walt was coming down with it, I wasn’t aware that the thunk I heard in the downstairs bathroom was Walt passing out!
After a week of recovery I was ready to get out and about so even though Saturday dawned with the worst weather yet – pouring rain and blowing hard – Reed and I braved the weather and took the train to Holywood to go to the Rudolf Steiner school’s annual Advent crafts festival. We called a taxi from a gas station very near the station and arrived at the school just in time for the opening carol singing and candle lighting. The rest of the day was spent making our way between the various buildings, dodging other hordes of children and their parents, trying to keep out of the puddles inbetween, waiting in line for food, and choosing a select few crafts for Reed to do. The first was dipping beeswax candles by hand. Reed loves doing that so much I might have to get him the equipment to do it at home eventually – maybe he could sell them, since he loves setting up a little market stand too. Later I helped him make a wreath out of fresh cut evergreen boughs, something else he was thrilled to create. He chose some little sprays with pink berries on them for the finishing touches – but we don’t know what shrub they were from and neither did the person who was in charge. He also enjoyed the petting zoo, where he handled a friendly snake and a tortoise, and stroked a hamster or guinea pig for a long while, while I waited outside under my umbrella. We headed home, content, later in the afternoon and once again arrived home just as darkness was falling, candles and wreath intact.
Yesterday Reed came out of Sunday School with two notes, one about the dress rehearsal this Saturday for the children’s nativity program, and another that requested “Please make me into a shepherd for our nativity service.” I’ve got to figure out what he can wear, aside from the tea towel on his head. Maybe I’ll buy an old sheet at one of the charity shops and quickly sew him a kind of long tunic. I’m not too great at this kind of thing yet but I think I can manage that at least. I wonder if Reed realizes the significance of being a shepherd in the nativity play, since he has actual experience shepherding goats and sheep in the Auvergne hills. If I was a more theatrical-oriented person I might observe that he could really bring a depth of understanding to his shepherd performance by drawing on that... but I'm not, thank goodness.
Thursday, December 6, 2007
Saturday in Belfast
Thursday, December 6, 2007
Bangor
Walt and Reed took themselves out of the house last Friday so I could have most of the day at home with peace and quiet. Utter bliss, I admit. They went to the transport museum again in Cultra, this time to see the boats. When they got home they stayed for just a couple minutes before heading out again to catch the train downtown for a swim at the leisure center. I’ve had plenty of alone time while on my shopping walks, but to be at home alone is a rare pleasure no matter where I am in the world. It definitely helped restore my shaky equilibrium – knocked off balance by too much family togetherness I guess. I know that is not a problem that most families have lately, but on our year away it is indeed a hazard. Fortunately we’re not in The Shining…we’re not trapped in some remote snowbound haunted mansion, slowly losing our grip.
Quite the opposite really: today as I was walking I realized I’ve got a dawning sense of contentment, that until it appeared, I didn’t know was missing. Having realized a long held desire certainly helps – after all, I used to spend an inordinate amount of time in my former life dreaming and scheming how to spend a year in Europe, and voila, here I am. Now my concerns run to the more mundane: will I ever own a Smartcar or Mini Cooper of my very own? Will they continue producing episodes of The Hotel Inspector for t.v.? Do I want a regular chocolate orange or a dark minty chocolate orange in my stocking for Christmas? Things like that. Being here now certainly makes living in Europe again in the future completely possible, and that, believe it or not, is a huge load off my mind.
We spent Saturday in Belfast, catching the train at 10 a.m. and getting to St. George’s market around 10:45, just in time to go around sampling all the delicious things for sale. The most unusual was probably smoked dulse, a type of seaweed, and a cracker spread made from sea lettuce. But they were both delicious. We had a crepe filled with ham and cheese as well as a serving of sausage with a curry sauce for lunch, while listening to a band playing American Dixieland and Big Band type music. Walt thought that was unusual until I pointed out how many times we’ve listened to traditional Irish music at the farmer’s market at home. Afterwards we wandered downtown to the City Hall which was jampacked with people enjoying the Christmas market in Donegall Square. We caught a bus to the Queen’s University area where we walked through the winter-subdued Botanic Gardens. My favorite was the old, unrestored Tropical Ravine building, made of brick, rather dark and completely jungle-like with exotic vines and trees, with a goldfish pond below us at the bottom of it, and gothic style wooden windows rotting away from the constant moisture. We were the only ones inside, taking shelter from the brisk breeze, and I simply must visit again to note more details; it would be the perfect setting for a crime scene in a cozy murder mystery. Afterwards we went into the Student Union at Queen’s to have some hot chocolate at Clement’s cafe and admire the fabulous view of the school directly across the street. I believe it was the same Victorian architect that designed Queen’s that also designed the curvilinear glass and steel palm house at the Botanical Gardens, Sir Charles Lanyon. We caught the train home around 3:30 pm and were happily building a fire in the stove at home by dark.
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