Lord and Lady Luck

Bonjour, mes amis!  Je regrette for the long wait between blog posts.  Life seems to go faster and faster every day and the time just slips away so quickly.  Fortunately, the update is very promising this time because it seems as though all of our prayers have been answered and everything is going in an upward direction for us.  

When I moved here, I read many articles in the newspapers about high unemployment rates.  I also spoke to other immigrants who told me that in order to be a teacher, I would have to go through another year of schooling to 'upgrade,' in a sense, my Ashland University teaching degree to a British teaching degree.  With this news, I pursued nanny positions, but to no avail.  Before leaving the States, I had a full-time nanny position in place, but I found out when I phoned the parents in September when I arrived that they had given the job to someone else without informing me.  With these setbacks, Lee and I were just hoping that I would find something within the first six months of moving here--not only to contribute financially to the household, but also for my mental health.  After all of the house chores were done, I taught myself how to crochet.  I found myself turning into somewhat of a recluse crocheting scarf and hat sets and watching PBS for hours on end.  In the middle of October, I discovered a possible career venue of being a teaching assistant.  This job would entail helping students, preparing supplies for a classroom teacher, and sometimes leading the class if the teacher is otherwise occupied.  Lee and I both thought that this would be a good pursuit for the time being, so I began sending out applications to schools hiring teaching assistants within a five mile radius of our house.  After the sixth application was sent, I just waited and hoped that one of them would be successful in securing an interview.  

On Friday, November 11, the phone rang at about nine o'clock in the morning and it was someone asking for Mrs. McRae.  Then, a girl said, "This is Rachel from St. Mary and St. Benedict's School.  I'm calling to let you know you've been shortlisted for the TA2 position."  I couldn't believe it!  I said, "Oh my gosh!  That's great!"  Then I eagerly wrote down my interview time and date which was for November 25 at half eight in the morning.  For the following two weeks, I prepared for the interview as much as I could, but also kept it quiet so that if the interview didn't go well, I wouldn't have to be embarrassed.  

That same day, the 11th, an e-mail was sent to all of the employees at Kukri (the company where Lee works) telling them who was selected to attend the Hong Kong Sevens.  This is a huge rugby tournament in Hong Kong and Kukri designs the kits (uniforms, in America) for many of the teams.  The company also takes employees who would be an asset to the marketing and development of their brand while in Hong Kong.  Lee put his name in the mix of those who would like to go on this company-paid trip since he creates the advertisements that are played on the big screens in the stadium.  I'm happy to report that Lee's role as "Video King" will be utilised in Hong Kong this March!  He is really excited to go and to film scenes to use in future videos.  Needless to say, he's also eager to see his hard work for the advertisement in all its glory on the big screen live from Hong Kong.

Well, Lady Luck was on our side again because the teaching assistant interview went swimmingly and when the principal (head teacher) rang six hours after I interviewed and said she was "very impressed" by me and would like to offer me the job, I was ecstatic!  Since the phone call, I've visited and trained at the school and am very happy to be working in a school where the children are taught--and expected to have--good manners along with a very creative curriculum.  This school is full of great teachers who all get along and are welcoming to their new staff.  I was also lucky that they weren't afraid to hire someone who is from another country--which was one of my fears initially.

The same day as this fantastic news, Lee received word at work that his video (uploaded on the last blog post) received 10,000 views.  His employers said that in order for him to receive his next big pay rise, one of his weekly videos would have to be viewed at least 10,000 times before the new year.  The video didn't stop at the minimum though because currently, it has been viewed 31,266 times!  Lee earned a substantial pay rise which will go into effect on January 1.

From Kukri, we were also privileged to two VIP tickets for an International Netball Tournament at the Echo Arena in Liverpool for Saturday, the 26th.  Netball is similar to basketball, but it is only played by women and some players are restricted by where they can move on the court.  There is also no backboard on the net, so the shooters are much more skilled than basketball players, in my opinion.  The tickets were a huge surprise and a great way to celebrate all of the blessings that had been falling into our laps.

The last piece of our lucky streak is that we won the lottery--£6 on a scratch ticket!  It might be a bit of a stretch, but as you may have figured out from the other posts, it doesn't take much to get me excited.

Lee and I are really happy that much of our worries have gone away, which makes life a lot more fun.  We are able to relax about any financial issues because we will be able to save now for the future--mainly for a house of our own and our British drivers licenses.  I know many of you in the States have been praying for us and it seems that with all of this good news, God is definitely watching out for us.  In the past month, our lives have changed immensely.  Lee and I are in a town where we have no connections aside from our co-workers.  I'm sure this will change as we become more involved in the community, but for now, we feel most lucky to have each other.  No matter what luck comes our way, we can always depend on one another.

We wish you all a very Merry Christmas and that you find yourselves surrounded by love, family, and friends during this next week.

If you see Sammie Miles Davis, Jr. and Bella, give them my love.

Below are some photos for your viewing pleasure.

At the beginning of each netball game, the players' names would be announced and then they'd run onto the court with flames.  The signs around the court read, "Netball just got a little hotter."  It was super cheesy, but it got the crowd excited.

Jamaica (yellow team) vs. New Zealand

Jamaica vs. New Zealand, NZ won 30-29

England (red team) vs. Jamaica

England vs. Jamaica, Jamaica won 21-16

After their second game of the day, Lee and I just happened to be sitting near three of the English girls' families, so we found ourselves surrounded by three professional netball players.  We definitely felt like VIP then.

England Team

England

England and Jamaica after their match

The Krazy House

Hello Readers!  Hope you all had a great Thanksgiving in America and that you can find a reason to give thanks in the rest of the world, even if you don't have a holiday set aside to recognise all of your blessings.  You may have noticed that last week, there was no entry.  I found out that if you don't go outside of your house, then you probably won't have much to 'blog' about--unless there's a mouse in the house, of course.

This past Monday was the third anniversary of when Lee and I first met in Liverpool at the Krazy House--a club with three dance floors.  To celebrate, we stayed from Saturday to Sunday in the Adelphi Hotel which was originally built in 1826.  But, like the Cavern Club where the Beatles played, the original doesn't exist anymore.  The hotel is still fairly old, re-built in the same location from 1911 to 1914, and many famous people have stayed there.  One of the rooms is even an exact replica of a room in the Titanic!

After we checked-in to the hotel, the queue (line, in America) for the lift (elevator, in America) was really long, so we decided to use the stairs.  We ascended what we thought were the stairs, but ended up coming right back to the lounge where we started.  Seeing no signs for "Stairs," we got in the queue for the lift.

For dinner that night, we went to Pizza Hut--you'd be surprised how many times I've had a craving for Pizza Hut even though I can count on one hand how many times I ate there in Ohio.  The music was great, the endless side salads were great, and the people watching was great--all of these were so wonderful in fact that the only person who noticed we were waiting about 45 minutes for our meal was our waitress.  She approached our table and told us, "Thank you for your patience.  Sorry about the wait.  When you're ready, I'd like to give you two desserts tonight for waiting so long."  I didn't think this level of Americana customer service existed in the U.K., but I'm thankful it does!  It was uplifting to see a waitress appreciating patient, forgiving customers and the chocolate chip cookie dough dessert warmed my heart, as well.

Our check-out time was 10 A.M. on Sunday, so we made our way to the lobby at around 9:45.  We boarded the lift on the fifth floor and rode to the fourth, gathering a gaggle of three giddy girls.  The five of us filled the tiny lift and so our stop on the third floor wasn't of much use to the two ladies waiting for a ride.  The doors closed for their chance and we continued down to the second floor.  Now, the second floor was where a fight almost broke out.  The doors opened, and clearly there wasn't enough room for the two ladies waiting for a ride (yes, a new set of two ladies).  So, our doors closed, then opened right away.  The 'ladies in waiting' pushed the button too quickly after the doors closing, so the lift doors opened again to reveal the same duo.  To this, one of the giddy girls exchanged some snotty words, telling the ladies that they have to wait longer to push the down button.  Our doors closed and then, oops!  Wouldn't you know it?  We didn't move at all--we just found ourselves looking at the second floor ladies again.  Needless to say, the outspoken girl shared more words with her second-floor buddy.  Well, after this 'third times a charm' meeting, we finally were on our way to the first floor.  Here, we left behind a middle-aged couple, but gained a hotel maid.  Then, to our utter shock, the lift starting rising, and rising, and rising--all the way to the SIXTH floor!  At this point, we just abandoned ship and found the illusive stairs by following the hotel maid and walked down to the main floor.  (In Europe, the main or ground floor is referred to as such.  In America, we call this the first floor.)  And as I'm sure you're wondering:  we checked-out exactly at 10 o'clock.

After some Christmas shopping in Liverpool, we headed to Waterloo to try 'the best' Mexican restaurant in the area.  I didn't research Waterloo aside from where the restaurant La Parrilla is located.  Before eating our enchilada, chimichanga, and pile of nachos, we walked along the gorgeous seaside, pristine parks, and brightly coloured beach town.  Waterloo's lovely sights were a surprise to me since I wasn't sure what to expect.  All of the Mexican food was delicious and our waiter even plopped sombreros on our heads toward the end of dinner.  Waterloo looks and feels practically perfect and the people there were really friendly--another reassuring feeling contributing to a really great weekend.

A weekend out in England just wouldn't be complete without a little comedy mixed with life-in-danger action.  As we were just about home, standing at a crosswalk, a huge crash rang through the air sending Lee and I rushing back and turning away from the noise in case a car was exploding--because that's the first thought that ran through my mind in conjunction with the sound.  After screeching tires, honking horns, and cars going every which-way, we turned to see that a tin cart had rolled out the back of a van.  Not as dramatic as I had imagined, but I was thankful that the drivers and ourselves were safe.

When we crossed the road, two boys came running toward us asking, "What was that?!"
"A cart fell out of the back of a car."
"A man?!  Was it a man?!"
"No, a cart.  You know, like a box on wheels."
"Oh, it looked like a man.  I thought it was a man."
These kids were very discontented unless a man fell out of a car, so we stopped trying to relay the truth.  And who knows?  Maybe there was a man in the cart.

Then, they asked, "Do you know where the train station is?"
"Yes, if you walk down this road until the end--where all of the shops are--turn left and keep walking until you see the train station."
"I think it's this way."  The station is in the general direction that he was pointing, but to give directions in his preferred way would require many twists and turns.
"Well, it's easier if you go down this street and turn left."
"No, I know it's this way."
Again, discontent with our help, these kids were finding their own way to the train station.

And our last riddle straight out of a scene from The Hobbit:  "How much would a return ticket cost to Leyland?"  This railway station is one stop out of Preston and kids get cheaper rates.
With this in mind, we guessed, "About £3."
"No, I think it's about £2."
"Okay, it's probably £2."
And with our last trial, the boys left and began talking about what fell out of the van.

Down the rest of the hill toward home, Lee and I kept laughing because we weren't sure why these kids even asked us any questions since they answered all of them and argued their answers against us.  The boys seemed good-hearted and all of the excitement in a mere five minutes was actually a hilarious ending to a perfect anniversary weekend.

Below are some pictures and a recipe for your viewing and dining pleasure.  Also, here's a link to Lee's latest creation for his company--it's a choose-your-own-adventure game on youtube:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F1YenFTzli8

If you see Sammie Miles Davis, Jr. and Bella, give them my love.

The Adelphi--a room prepared for a wedding reception.

The Grand Lounge in the Adelphi--this is where the stairs are hidden, in case you ever need to find them.

The Adelphi--revolving doors and beautiful decor all around.

The Krazy House--where Lee and I first met.

Waterloo--scenes at the lake.  Beyond the lake is the beach.

Waterloo--more of the lake with some sail boats.

Waterloo--at the park near the beach.

Waterloo--the beach in November!  Incredible.

Waterloo--Lee doesn't mind sitting in the sand.  I knelt beside him, but didn't commit to sitting completely.

La Parrilla--we were the only two in there for lunch.

La Parrilla--Hola Senor!

La Parrilla--no matter where I go, it can turn awkward in a minute.  Why did I get the gigantic hat?

BEST LAMB DINNER
Fix this anytime, but it's great for a Sunday dinner.  Lee said this was the best-cooked meat he ever remembers tasting.
Thank you, Martha Stewart!

Garlic Roasted Leg of Lamb

Serves 12

Prep Time 10 minutes

Total Time 2 hours, 10 minutes

1/2 cup olive oil

10 garlic cloves

salt and pepper

1 boned, rolled, and tied leg of lamb (about 7 pounds)

1.  Preheat oven to 400 degrees F.  In a blender, process the oil, garlic, 1 tablespoon salt, and 1 teaspoon pepper until smooth and emulsified, scraping down the sides as needed.

2.  Place the lamb, fat side up, on a rack set on a roasting pan; spread garlic paste all over lamb.  Roast in oven until a meal thermometer inserted into the the thickest part of the meat registers 135 degrees F for medium rare, about 2 hours.

3.  Transfer lamb to a platter, and discard string; keep warm while you make the pan sauce.  Slice the lamb just before serving.

Lamb Pan Sauce

Makes about 1 cup

Prep/Total Time 15 minutes

Dry red wine or water

Chicken stock or reduced-sodium canned broth

Salt

1.  Pour 1 cup dry red wine or water into the roasting pan in which the lamb was cooked.

2.  Place over medium heat, and scrape up browned bits from bottom of pan.

3.  Add 1 cup chicken stock or reduced-sodium canned broth and 1/2 teaspoon salt; bring to a simmer.  Cook, stirring, until liquid has reduced to 1.5 cups; about 10 minutes.  Skim fat from surface, as needed.

4.  Strain sauce into a gravy boat, and serve hot with sliced lamb.

Smashed Potatoes

Serves 8

Prep/Total Time 35 minutes

3 pounds new red potatoes

1 stick butter

3/4 cup milk

Salt and pepper

3 tbs. chopped chives or scallion greens

1.  In a medium saucepan, cover 3 pounds new red potatoes, cut into chunks, with salted water; bring to a boil.  Reduce heat; simmer until fork-tender, 10 to 15 minutes.  Drain and return to pot.

2.  Add 1 stick butter, 3/4 cup milk, 3/4 teaspoon salt, and 1/4 teaspoon pepper to the potatoes.  Using a potato masher or fork, mash potatoes until chunky.  Mix in 3 tablespoons chopped chives or scallion greens.  Serve garnished with more chopped chives.

Oven-Roasted Asparagus

Serves 4

Prep/Total Time 25 minutes

1.5 pounds asparagus

Olive oil

Salt and pepper

1.  Preheat oven to 400 degrees F.  On a baking sheet, toss 1.5 pounds asparagus with 2 teaspoons olive oil, 1/8 teaspoon salt, and a pinch of pepper.  Spread in a single layer.

2.  Roast until tender, 10 to 15 minutes, in oven.

Teach Your Children Well

Once a week, I go to Subway to get my comfort food after a long day of working in the house and shopping for groceries.  There are four Subways to choose from within walking distance of our house, but I have become fond of one in particular because the workers are always really friendly and professional.  If you've ever gone to Subway, then you know there are some 'sandwich artists' who rush through, cut the bread unevenly, or forget to give you napkins.  This particular spot, however, completes their work 100% satisfactorily and has Ohio-worthy customer service.  That is they did until two days ago.  It appears that they hired a new guy and he skipped out on their impeccable customer service training.  When I ordered my sub--a BMT on Italian herbs and cheese with American cheese, all the vegetables, and mayonnaise--the first man in the assembly line was very cordial.  When he asked, "Toasted and cheese?"  I said, "Cheese, please, but not toasted."  I really hate the feeling of toasty crumbs on my hands.  The new guy with an untucked shirt, man number two in the assembly line, decided that instead of continuing the sandwich compilation, he would add his two-cents about my choice of non-toastation.  He very curtly said, "Not toasted?  That would taste like ____."  And in the blank, goes a curse word that rhymes with hit.  I could feel my face get really hot because I was in shock.  So, I just looked at man number one, who was equally embarrassed to be in this position, and said, "Well, I've been ordering it this way for 24 years," because I felt like I had to defuse the situation.  What I wish I would have done is just walk out and said, "Nevermind about the sandwich."  Since I didn't though, I had to let guy number two put the vegetables on and then pay him for my apparently horrible-tasting sub.  Now, I'm sure that things like this happen in the United States in towns where people are raised by wolves.  I was just infuriated by the most base form of customer interaction I've encountered here so far.

On very seldom occasions, Lee and I go to the cinema close to our house.  Last Sunday, a day after Guy Fawkes Day, we went to see The Lion King in 3-D to reminisce childhood songs and memories.  As we were almost home, three doors down from our house in fact, a man and his young son opened their front door and had a huge firework rocket targeted toward the sky.  It was just about lit when the father noticed Lee and I on the sidewalk, I mean shooting range.  He reluctantly allowed us to pass to safety before setting off the firework and as we rushed past, we heard the little boy say, "Dad, don't light it--it will smell up the whole house!"  We were grateful as we heard the last attempts to stop the madness, and as Lee pointed out, 'the only voice of reason' in that scene.  The boy's cries were to no avail since just as we reached our door, the sound of a firework screeched through the air.

As if to make up for the insanity of the wolf-man at Subway and our pyrotechnic neighbour, our dear friend Stuey stayed at our house last Saturday for a weekend visit.  He was obviously raised with some class because he sent very nice text messages thanking us for the good company and tasty food.  Stuey is not just polite to us but to everyone he meets.  I'm thankful that Lee has lots of gracious, sophisticated friends that have similar values to my upbringing.

I had a dream this week that Lee and I had a baby boy we named Evan.  In the dream, I was sobbing and Lee asked me what was wrong.  All I could say is that I was sad because our time with Evan was already determined and we were running out of time.  Now, we're not having a baby, but it is true that our time with anyone is already determined.  We don't know how much time we have with another person be it husband, wife, child, family member, or friend.  In the time we do have with them, though, we should try to make it as rich and full as possible.  Especially with children, show them love and teach them well so that we can lessen the number of wolfpacks and rocketmen in the world.

Below is a link to a Crosby, Stills, and Nash song, Teach Your Children and a picture from our cinema adventure.

If you see Sammie Miles Davis, Jr. and Bella, give them my love.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BcoOQAhwF80

Probably a firework misfire...

Happy Place

Hello beautiful people!  Hope you are well and had a fun Halloween.

Day 48.  Little sign of vegetation.  If we don't find water soon, then I don't know what we're going to do.

The first month and a half hasn't been that bad.  There have been times where I felt a little out of my element, but I'm still assimilating.  The hardest part about living here is not that I am in a new country or dealing with the cultural changes because I know in a few more months, these things won't seem as prominent.  The hardest part is wrapping my head around the fact that I won't be going 'home' for awhile.

Not many people will be in my position during life.  Most people will probably grow up near, find a spouse in, and reside close to their hometown.  I was fortunate enough to fall in love with Lee in a place that I also love, however, these loves of mine are faraway from my hometown--3,642 miles away to be exact.  When I visited Europe before, I was always on a timeline and I knew when I'd be returning to Ohio.

This 'timeline' mindset is extremely unhealthy I've found.  When I arrived 48 days ago, my thoughts automatically reverted to a constrained, deadline-oriented manner that had me running from the airport, to the train station, to the taxi queue, and to our new house.  I could only think that my time with Lee needed to be filled with adventures and fun every second of the day and if we moved at anything less than a gallop, we were going to miss something.  But, this was how I had to think when I was here on timed visits.

Now that I literally have the rest of my life to live here with my husband in the country that I fell in love with three years ago, I have been reminding myself that not every day has to be action-packed and that it is acceptable to just enjoy the simple, quiet days at home.  (Very quiet, in fact.  No enlightened me when I got married that I would only see my husband five hours a day and weekends.  That's kind of the pits.)  I still have the urgency to explore every nook and cranny of England, but I have slowed my pace to a trot so as to just tackle one city at a time.  In a study-abroad or holiday mindset, the goal is sometimes to see two cities a week or jam-pack a weekend with as many sights as you can so that when the time comes to jump back on a plane home, you don't feel as though you've missed anything.

My quiet days at home are filled with mini-projects for the house and most recently, Lee and I are compiling an Operation Christmas shoebox to donate at church.  In between the housework and the projects, sometimes I get a little yearning for home and my family.  The other day, for instance, I made a playlist of as many Motown and '50s rock-and-roll songs that I could muster because that's the music my dad always listened to when I was younger.  Or when I'm cooking and I have an affection for a "little spatula" or "my favourite little mixer," I think of my mom and how ridiculous I thought she was when she'd say she 'loved' inanimate cooking objects.  How can you love a kitchen utensil?  I didn't think it was possible, either.  These memories of living at home sometimes make me tear-up a bit, but mostly just take me to a happy place.  It's amazing how much I miss being around people who simply just know me and can converse without any small-talk.

Although it would be nice to visit home where my friends and family are more often, I am becoming happier each day to be here, too.  Not being within 3,642 miles of a Wal-Mart or hearing a Nickelback song is reason enough to find happiness.

Here's the playlist I made for your listening pleasure (Mom, just click on the tan, underlined letters and then click "Play All" when the new window appears):  http://grooveshark.com/playlist/Malt+Shop/62619609

If you see Sammie Miles Davis, Jr. and Bella, give them my love.

Peculiarities

Hello readers!  Thanks for coming back.  It's time for a catch-up again about peculiarities that have been happening here in England.  For instance, no one has seen or trusts a £50 note.  Or, there are no trashcans (rubbish bins, in England) in the train stations, but you aren't allowed to litter.  Travelling by myself, I notice a lot more than if I was occupied chatting with friends or rambling on a cell phone (mobile, in England).

I suppose that rambling on a mobile would appear a bit more acceptable than talking to oneself.  It seems peculiar that a somewhat reserved country throws caution to the wind when it comes to speaking their mind while alone walking around town.  I accidentally thought someone was talking to me the other day because of his close proximity and his use of a normal speaking voice--so I shouldn't have been embarrassed.  But, his reaction wasn't was I was expecting.  He just ignored me completely and kept walking, kept talking.  I tried to apologise--I couldn't really think of what else to do--but I guess it was just better to pretend it never happened.  I'm acclimating.  

Another anomaly I've found on many occasions is that Brits will belt out a tune as if they are in their bedroom with a hairbrush microphone.  But, in fact, they are in the middle of Debenhams, shopping with strangers.  What is up with that?  These soloists are usually trying to out-sing Whitney Houston, Mariah Carey, or Cher so I usually have to turn away so I can laugh--not at their efforts, just at the situation.   And since I'm out and about during the day, I get to shop with all of the moms and grandmas, so these aren't meddling teenagers trying to be silly; these are legitimate performers showcasing their skills.

These outspoken habits of the people here in Preston are so surprising to me since people rarely say 'hello' or even look at passersby on the pavement.  But one lady certainly shocked me a few days ago in H&M.  I wanted to add a couple of pieces to my budding wardrobe, and as I was shopping, I saw no attendants to answer my, "If I am a 10/12, then what would my European size be?"  (All of their jean sizes are in 29/32, 30/34 form.)  Finally, I noticed an employee, but she was in the fitting room.  By the way, when you can find them, extremely friendly people work at the H&M in Preston.  After I purchased a pair of jeans, I rode the escalator up to the ground floor to find my way out of the mall, and I was just about to step out of the store, when I heard an, "Excuse me."  I turned to see a mom-aged lady who looked like she needed help.  I clearly didn't work at H&M:  track suit, five carrier bags, and tennis shoes (trainers, in England).  "Where are the tights?"  Luckily, I had seen the tights, so I showed her to the tights.  "No, the thick ones.  These are too thin," as she stretches the material to show that the leggings were not up to par.  I thought, "Is that my fault?  I want to be helpful, but please don't get mad at me for showing you the wrong tights."  But we don't always say what we're thinking and what came out was, "Oh, yeah, those are a little thin.  I saw some more in the back of the store by the accessories."  The lady stares at me, glances back at the section, and says, "Where?"  So, I walked her back to the other tights, but those still weren't good enough.  Oh well.  We left on good terms and she even said to 'have a good day.'  I felt for her because I know how hard it is to find an attendant in that store, but I never expected her to get frustrated at my efforts.

I found myself experiencing a common oddity on a day-to-day basis:  English does not help you everywhere in England.  There are many cultures living in Preston because of the university that brings people from all over the world to one spot.  Most of the small shops where we live are run by people from the Middle East and they can fluently converse from English to Arabic, Farsi, or Turkish.  Where the oddity comes is when I ask a question in English and then they laugh or look at me like I'm crazy.  I understand looking confused or apologetic, but they don't choose those expressions.  Most of the time, the workers are very helpful, but if they respond in a belittling manner--as they have a couple of times--I usually just walk out and tell them to 'have a good day,' knowing they lost any more of my business for the future.  It's not like I'm in France demanding that people speak English--I'm in England.  At least when I'm in France, I try to speak the language.

Here's a conundrum:  The Wheely Bin Two-Week Challenge.  Our rubbish bins that we set out for collection are called 'wheely bins.'  Each house gets one bin and it is collected every two weeks.  So, whatever rubbish that does not fit inside the bin, must be stored elsewhere until an opening arises.  Lee and I would be fine with this except that for our first two weeks, someone else had filled up our bin before we moved into our house and we've been playing catch-up ever since.  We just now received some recycling bins which are also collected every two weeks and those should help the wheely bin plight.  

Below are some photos for your viewing pleasure.  Thanks for reading!

If you see Sammie Miles Davis, Jr. and Bella, give them my love.

Welcome to our home!  This is our living room...

   

      

And now we move on to the kitchen...

         

      

A very quick look at the bathroom...

           

     

And here's the office/media room which we call "The Headquarters"...

Now finally, the bedroom...

 


That was the grand tour!  Thanks for stopping by.

HM

Hello, folks!  Here in England, HM stands for "Her Majesty," but in this blog, it stands for my current job title, "House Manager."

After the first four days of living in this newly wed life, I found myself settling quickly into a 'housewife' role.  While Lee was away at work, I cleaned, vacuumed, and washed the dishes in the mornings.  At about one o'clock, I took a trip to the nearest shops I knew of to purchase things on the house master list.  Around five o'clock everyday, I started cooking dinner--a dinner which I mentally prepared for all day.  This soon became very mind-numbing, so I needed to create new challenges and discover new parts of Preston, thus the creation of the HM, house manager.

Since I'm currently unemployed with applications floating around for a teaching assistant position, I needed to create duties to stick to during the weekdays.  Of these duties, the daily housework category was created:  mundane cleaning, organising, and washing.  Since I am home all day, essentially, there is no reason that Lee shouldn't be welcomed home from work with a spotless house.  It's not much effort, and it's a small way of making someone else happy.  Some people may think of this as sexist because I'm doing the housework, but there really isn't a reason that the house shouldn't be squeaky clean if I'm home for hours on end and physically able to make this happen.

After the daily housework, then comes the exploration category:  finding ways to make our lives more efficient in Preston.  For instance, I discovered that we live only one mile away from a grocery store called Lidl, similar to Aldi.  So now instead of walking three miles to Aldi, we've got a food source much closer.  There are many bonus general stores surrounding this 'new' grocery store which also help in collecting items off of the master shopping list--lamps, kitchen utensils, decorations, and so on.  I've also discovered new pathways to familiar places which cut down on travel time--very helpful when carrying the 'save the planet' grocery bags home.  In fact, for Lee's walks to his weekly soccer (football, in England) games, we Googled a way to travel there and it estimated a walking time of 32 minutes.  Well, with a 'secret way' along the River Darwen, he can make it in 23 minutes.  Success.

With my new title, I have found much more enjoyment of my surroundings and can cope more easily with being alone during the days.  I'm getting to know the local shop workers and most of them are very friendly, even taking the time to hold a conversation every time they see me.  The added pleasure of the weather of late has made life much cheerier, as well.  There have been rainy moments, but for the most part the brisk, refreshing autumn temperature is settling and the sun keeps showing itself through minimal clouds.  There was even a rainbow on Tuesday while Lee and I were walking through town!

Now, as house manager, I must also learn to toughen-up a bit because not everyday is filled with rainbows and lollipops.  I have to protect myself and my purchases from the shops back to our house.  For instance, when I am walking through town and cut down a 'secret way,' I sometimes pass a group of boys that don't look exactly chummy.  Out of pure instinct, I have created what I refer to as my 'knife face.'  It's a look without a smile and a bit of a glare as if to say, "I've been places.  I know people.  Yous bettah keep yah distance," with a New Jersey dialect.  I've never been confronted, and I accredit the knife face for this.

But, in any job, there are occurrences which happen that are out of the employee's control.  Last Saturday night, Lee and I returned home from a really fun day trip in Manchester.  We were completely worn out (knackered, in England) and so we just plopped on the couch and turned on an episode of Curb Your Enthusiasm on Lee's laptop.  We were sitting in the living room with the light on, the door to the kitchen was wide open, and the light in the kitchen was off, only revealing dark shadows of a table and chairs.  After about one minute of relaxing, I was 99% sure that I saw a small circular shadow move from the right side of the kitchen floor to the left, toward the refrigerator.  I whispered to Lee, "Ithinksomething'sinthekitchen!" and grabbed his arm, not blinking and staring straight ahead.  As usual, Lee remained calm, but I think it's because he didn't listen to me.  I was right.  So, I said again, "Lee.  I.  Think.  Something's.  In.  The.  Kitchen."  We stopped the episode and Lee walked toward the kitchen, flicked on the light, and moved a box we had leftover from the microwave.  THEN I SAW IT!  A MOUSE IN THE HOUSE!  I screamed and jumped on the couch in one instant, and then Lee walked out of the kitchen, shut the door, and joined me on the couch--standing as well.  So there we were, two adults, standing on a couch, hugging each other for support at about ten o'clock on a Saturday night--and neither of us wanted to face the creature.  After some quick-thinking, Lee said that he would go back into the kitchen to find it and I encouraged him to open the back door and let it run outside.  He moved the microwave box and other recycling items to the back patio, in case the monster was inside.  All I could see and hear were shadows from under the kitchen door and the squeaks from Lee's shoes, which I mistook for mouse noises and these made me squeal in terror again.  Lee came back to the living room and said he thought the mouse might have been in one of the boxes because he heard a 'squeak' when he threw it outside.  That wasn't too reassuring because I wanted to see the mouse outside for sure, but I wasn't about to go look for it.  So, I decided to go and find a mousetrap at Tesco (up the road).  They didn't have any mousetraps, and neither did the 15 other stores that were open at that hour of night.  When I returned home, Lee and I just camped out in the living room until the next morning when we could buy mice bait and duct tape.  Mice bait, you can understand, but the duct tape was what Lee wanted to use to seal the hole he discovered behind the refrigerator and to adhere a loose board under the cabinets.  Parts of our kitchen now look like a boy scout's failed attempt at a DIY Activity Badge, but I am thankful that Lee was brave enough to face the wild animal and to place the bait.  I can manage everything else in the house, I think, but not any mealy, little rodents.

Thanks for reading!  There aren't any new photos this week, but I'll post some of the interior of the house next week.

If you see Sammie Miles Davis, Jr. and Bella, give them my love.

Chavs

Hiya, you alright?
Yes, I'm fine.

Instead of saying, "Hi, how are you?" the greeting here is, "Hiya, you alright?"  But, if you actually answer someone with, "Hi, fine thanks, how are you?" the person greeting you gives a look as if you are an alien, a zombie, ... an American.  One lady in particular scoffed because she thought I was making fun of her (taking the mick, in England).  It's just habit for me to give this Ohio response, but I am slowly whittling it down to just, "Hi," with a smile.  And frankly, that's more than other people do.  You're lucky to get an 'excuse me' or 'please' and 'thank you' around these parts.

The people that refuse to use manners, learn to say a sentence without a curse word, or wear anything besides Adidas track suits are referred to as 'chavs.'  This isn't a cutesy English term, it's a label for lazy, do-nothings who are a drain on society.  A book was even recently published here called Chavs:  The Demonization of the Working Class, by Owen Jones, highlighting mainly the problems between social classes here in England and how they came to be.  I might change my mind after living here for awhile, but I see a lot of these chavs in Preston--treating strangers rudely, disregarding public property, and harassing local shop workers.  This happens daily from morning until night.  Who to blame?  Parents?  Yes, their parents must not have modelled how to behave in public or walk without putting a hand in an inappropriate place.  Teachers?  Aw, yes.  Their teachers must not have taught them to say 'thank you' when someone holds a door open or 'excuse me' while trying to pass someone on the sidewalk (pavement, in England).  Granted, my parents and teachers did very well to teach me how to act in public and in a professional setting.  Also, I grew up in a very friendly, somewhat conservative Ohio town.  So, maybe my opinion is a little skewed on what I am noticing.  I am, however, grateful more than ever for how I was raised.

Here's a first-hand example:  The house to our left has three, unrelated, unemployed adults living together--two men and one woman.  Almost every other night, Lee and I are awoken at around two or three in the morning by screaming, sounds of objects hitting walls, blaring rap music, and/or endless obscenities.  We just try to get back to sleep because I am scared to tell them to be quiet and I don't think Lee wants to confront them either.  I would not be posting about this in a blog if these occurrences were happening during the day when people are normally awake.  But, this is a prime example of how some of these chavs have no regard for others.  And they clearly know that their insanity can be heard through the walls because our landlord warned us about them when we moved here.

When I hear a chav story about being unemployed, I have no sympathy because of how they choose to act.  Two weeks ago, I was behind a man with his girlfriend who was being followed by a security guard out of Primark for suspicious behaviour.  Primark!  They'll accept anybody, so if you are getting kicked out of Primark, you must be pretty bad.  But, this man didn't just leave, he started cursing at the security guard and confronting him.  I've seen many kids--ages 8 to 13--acting this way to authorities as well.  But for them, my first question is, "Where are their parents?"  For a 25-year-old person, I have no questions at all.

To back up these recent thoughts on chavs, I read an article in the Daily Mail this week about employers' concerns--and yes, I bought a paper just so I could continue collecting my Jamie Oliver recipe cards.  The article written by Becky Barrow, entitled Three quarters of bosses say graduates are not fit for work, said that applicants are missing 'interpersonal skills' and an 'ability to focus.'  'Interpersonal skills' is a nice way to phrase the examples I've seen here in Preston.  On the bright side for me, the article mentioned that employers are forced to 'recruit foreign workers.'

For now, I'm just going to keep using common courtesy, no matter what weird looks I get.  Also, I will refuse to let any more groups of chavs push me off of the sidewalk.  I will stick with my newfound method of just standing and holding my place, saying, "Excuse me," and ignoring all of the questioning glances.

Below are some photos for your viewing pleasure.  Thanks for reading!

If you see Sammie Miles Davis, Jr. and Bella, give them my love.

Our humble abode

A view of the street

Our neighbourhood

A garden lot.  You can have your own little garden if you don't have space at your house.  Americans fly their flag anywhere they can.

On the way to the 'bottom of the hill' shops.

River Darwen

Another view of the River Darwen

Bachelor Buttons--I planted these back in Ohio this summer for the backyard wedding.

Views over the garden lots.

A typical day in Preston.

Views of Avenham Park