NASTY WINE

I had a 1/3 glass of rose wine with dinner, and now, less than an hour later, have a nasty nasty headache. I hate it when that happens. Now my evening is shot; I can't concentrate and I think I'm going to crawl into bed.

I wish I knew what it was in some wines that does this to me - it's not sulphites because most wines contain at least a little bit and I only react like this once every six months or so. Blah.

THE TRAVEL BUG

You know that you are getting blase about travelling when, the night before you fly to another country (for a three-day city break, no less), you think, "hmmmmm...flight leaves in six hours...maybe I should find my suitcase and passport." And then you find yourself efficiently packing your suitcase with exactly the items you would require on just such a trip, without having to have made - or consult - any lists. And, you realize that you are so relaxed about travelling that you figure, "as long as I have my passport, some credit cards and a clean change of underwear, I'm good to go" - so if you did forget to pack something, it isn't going to be a big deal.

We were in Budapest (second time for me, first for Ray, Cassandra and Tim) from Thursday to Saturday, and we had a great time. I only took a few photos this time, but this most recent trip seems like a good excuse to get organized and finally post the photos from last summer as well. Big differences this time, for me: the Danube was covered in huge chunks of ice floating downstream (it was durn cold!!), the hotel was stunning (we struck gold with an internet winter special), and I had three other people to share the experience with. I found the city, I'm pleased to report, as full of life and as welcoming as I did during my last visit.

We spent the majority of our trip enjoying the city's famous turkish baths - what else can one reasonably be expected to do in the middle of winter??!! - and eating lots of delicious Hungarian cuisine. Goulash, wild boar, lots of cheese and lots of paprika. Yummy.

I will report back more in the next few days...and with photos. And if I don't get organized with the photos soon, at least Ray was with me this time, and he can do it!

HOW CAN A PERSON LOVE THE SMELL OF A NON-SMELL?

My name is Amanda and I have a confession to make.

I am addicted to Febreeze.

England is a country of smokers, at least compared to the West Coast of Canada. Ray and I are not smokers, and we don't like the smell of cigarette smoke - either in the air or, worst of all, in our clothes and hair. Oh, the perils of long hair in a smokey pub! As it is not uncommon to find us spending time in one smokey pub or another, we have to deal with the stinky problem on a fairly regular basis.

Washable items are fine. My jeans, fine. My jumpers, fine. My body and hair, fine and fine. "Not fine" items include high-maintenance dry-clean-only clothing and delicates like my cashmere/silk scarf. Ray's leather jacket is also definitely on the "not fine" list but so far he's avoided stinkification by remembering not to wear it out to pubs.

It's the "not fine" articles that get the Febreeze/cherry tree treatment in our household. For those unfamiliar with this particular method of clothes de-stinkification, it involves spraying the odiferous article with copious amounts of Febreeze (don't forget the inside surfaces!) and then hanging it from the cherry tree in one's garden to dry and be flapped by the breeze. On rainy days the top of a doorway can be used to hang clothes but it's not nearly so effective as the cherry tree - plus it removes all the nervous anticipation of approaching one's clothes to check whether the pigeons have pooped on them.

After an hour or two the clothes have lost their ciggy odour and retain only the faint aroma of Febreeze. (It should be noted that the company that makes this product insists it does not have an odour itself, but somehow miraculously removes ALL odours. My nose begs to differ, although Ray has suggested on more than one occasion that perhaps my nose is just a little too sensitive (usually during a disagreement over whether the garbage needs to be taken out RIGHT NOW or whether it can wait one more day).

After a Febreeze day, I've caught myself taking surreptitious, approving sniffs of my scarf...mmmmm Febreezy-smell. I would sniff other places but it wouldn't be nearly so discrete. At first I thought it was my expensive perfume that I was appreciating, but it seems that it's the smell of two-quid fabric de-stinkifier that I love the most.

This either means that I a) have a most unrefined sniffer or b) am so much of a clean freak that I'm turned on JUST BY THE SMELL OF CLEAN. Neither option is looking so flattering.

(Disclaimer: I am not paid by the makers of Febreeze for this endorsement...however, if they would like to send a sizable cheque my way I just might be able to figure out a way to spend it!)

A FEW OF MY FAVOURITE THINGS

I'm taking a dreary January night to reflect on our holiday back in Gibsons/Vancouver, and all the wonderful aspects to the part of the world that will always be "home" deep in my heart, no matter where my and Ray's travels take us.

I love how, as we arrived at YVR, everyone was speaking with our twangy Canadian accent. A FRIENDLY twangy accent.

I love how the Canadian Customs gal just chuckled at us because we had filled out our landing card incorrectly, instead of pulling a power trip like Customs agents of some other, to be left un-named, countries.

I love how I only had to turn my head one full rotation before I spotted someone wearing a hockey jersey or a vehicle with a Canucks flag attached to the antenna.

I love how everyone and their dog - and they ALL have dogs - drinks at least six cups of coffee a day. I especially love the man I saw cycling down Granville Street, sipping from his Starbucks cup with one hand while he piloted his bike/held onto his dog's leash with his other hand.

I love how bat-shit-crazy West Coasters are to cheerfully (most of the time) put up with all that rain. My God, can it rain out there. I had forgotten about that.

I love how people return my smile and greeting in the street, without acting like I'm about to mug them or worse, make friendly small-talk. I love the friendly waitresses, the perky baristas, and the helpful salespeople.

I love how I can look out just about any window in any building and see a) snow-capped mountains, b) the Pacific Ocean, or c) both. If I can't see either of those geographical stunners then at least I am guaranteed to see some trees and ten people sipping coffee while they walk their dogs.

I love how being sporty and healthy is trendy. Finally, a trend that I don't mind being part of!

I love how I can go into just about any restaurant and get a great meal made with fresh ingredients, in a welcoming atmosphere, and pay under 20 bucks.

I love how there is a sheer physical presence to the landscape. It says, "I AM HERE".

I love how this place is populated with wonderful people, not just my dear family and friends, but with a couple of million other people that I like to imagine could be my friends.

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Funny story related to the above: Upon hearing from which part of the world Ray and I hail, I have been asked, "What the heck are you doing here??!!" Seems I'm not the only one suffering from a love affair with the West Coast.

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Update on the boiler situation: Ray adjusted the water pressure and the moaning has subsided. Perhaps the amorous elephants decided to move on?

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Bossy Blogger Command of the Day: Canadians, get thy butt out and VOTE!!

A RETURN TO HEAT

Our boiler was fixed the other day and our house is comfortably warm for the first time this winter. Yay! It feels a bit odd to be comfortable wearing socks around the house without my sheepskin slippers, but I have to admit that I'm enjoying the sensation.

I'm not going to ask why, when our boiler was inspected only a month ago, the problem (a faulty valve) wasn't picked up. Besides, I think I can come up with a reason, and it's not terribly complimentary towards the workman who did the inspection. I'm also not going to question why, when our repaired boiler is chugging away, it insists on emitting a loud moaning noise, similar to what I would expect to hear from mating elephants. As long as I am warm, it can moan all it wants.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, RAY!!!

I think it is a very rare occurennce to find a life partner who can make their spouse smile every time they think of them, a partner who is caring and generous almost without bounds, someone who never fails to make their spouse's day a hundred times better just by walking into the room. I'm extremely fortunate to find myself in the position of being married to such a person, and as today is his birthday, I'm going to take this opportunity to celebrate Ray and just a few of the qualities that he embodies.

Ray is scarily intelligent, but luckily he uses his powers for good and can most often be found using his smarts to figure out how to make my life, or the lives of those around him, a lot better. The only bad aspect of his intelligence is that it makes it awfully hard for me to win an argument, but then again, that same intelligence often keeps him out of the trouble that would result in an argument in the first place! He is preternatrually sensitive to my candy cravings and it is eerie just how often I come home to find the perfect snack waiting in the kitchen. This is a quality not to be underestimated in our household!

In the past year, Ray has become undeniably sporty - aside from cycling everywhere, he runs, swims, plays squash, and has quickly moved up the ranks in Darwin's rowing teams. From never having rowed four months ago he has progressed so much that he has been invited to fill in as an extra rower for the college's most competitive boat, one in which most of the guys have been rowing for years. This is no mean feat, and I am extremely proud of him. Not crazy enough to get up and be with him at the river at 7am on a chilly January morning, mind you, but definitely proud. When he rows in the famous May Bumps this year I will be on the riverbank cheering like crazy.

Most importantly, Ray is an extremely caring person. It doesn't matter if it's me, his family and friends, or an injured animal in the street - he cares about them and in these cynical times I think compassion and caring are some of the most important qualities in a person. He is a fantastic confidante and always gives thoughtul feedback and advice, putting the interests of others before his own. Ray's self confidence allows him to extend himself towards others and in that way he enriches the lives of those around him more than he can ever know.

The man makes a mean stirfry (in truth, he can out-cook me in almost any arena), and can always be counted upon to pick the perfect wine to match a meal. Perhaps more importantly, he cleans up!! - both after dinner and around the house. Ray, my sanity thanks you for this aspect of your personality! He is adventurous and is always up for a hike, gambol, trek or trip to destinations local and foreign, at a moment's notice. Ray is also easy-going and flexible; this weekend, for instance, he happily agreed to hedgehog sit despite Dave being a wee bit odiferous. He's even convinced that it will be a good idea to have horses and other critters in close proximity when we have a house one day...what can I say, the man is almost perfect!

Obviously, I could go on for a long time about how great this guy is, but I think I've embarassed him enough for one day. Happiest of Birthdays, Ray! Here's to a spectacular 26th year, and the amazing 27th year to come!

AH, THE SOUNDS OF ENGLAND

Recently I have noticed, on my morning walks from where Megan drops me off to my actual office (all of two minutes down a relaxed country road), a most un-relaxed sound. It's not the sounds of critters scurrying about, or even cars driving past me on their way into Cambridge. It's the sound of buckshot.

You see, the little village in which my office is located is home to many pheasants. For most of the year, the birds serve to enhance the view from my office window (the males in particular have quite attractive plumage). They also provide a great mental break, as watching them run like crazy across the lawn never fails to make me smile (they look quite a bit like witless roadrunners). But at this time of year the birds also serve a different purpose to some residents: dinner.

I actually think that the birds are hunted most of the winter because I've seen and heard the shots (and hounds) on our field walks since mid-autumn. But it seems like these days in particular, at least in my village, the hunters are getting up awfully early for some fun-and-shootin'.

I have to admit that while I'm not too thrilled by the idea of the birds being killed, listening to the hunt on a crisp winter morning definitely makes me feel very much IN England. If that makes any sense.

COLDNESS

It's cold in here! Our heating is broken for the fourth day in a row and the house is quite happily cooling down to a ambient temperature lower than either Ray or I find comfortable. At least we have two things on our side:

1. It's been mild (about 5-8 degrees C) outside, so at least we aren't actually freezing inside the house.

2. Ray was very intelligent and bought us a little space heater on the weekend.

At first I philosophically objected to the space heater, because I don't feel that we should pay gas costs for heat we aren't getting (boiler is on, but hot water is not getting through our radiators), and for electricity to run the space heater on top of those costs. But philosophical objections fly out the window when one is chilly and the reassuring glow of the space heater is right next to oneself. Go, space heater, go!

And hopefully, tomorrow, we will get the central heating fixed.

ACK

Oooh, bad blogger! My apologies for the many days between this and my last post (although don't you admit that "Nubbin" rates at least two days??). I've got the most pathetic excuse ever - I've been too busy DOING to spend time WRITING. Sad but true. I have several half-finished draft posts floating in the wings that I've not been able to put the correct words around quite yet, and I was holding out to post those, but it's been long enough now that I felt I should post SOMETHING to let you know that I'm still floating around over here and haven't dropped off the face of the earth just yet.

More to come tomorrow...I hope!

NUBBIN

The jet lag is slowly getting better, but my brain is still functioning on stand-by. At least I slept through last night - first time in nearly a week.

I know you probably don't tune into this blog for updates on my sleeping habits, but such is the state of my posting in these dark days of the winter that I'm afraid that's about all you're going to get for today. That, and the amusing fact that my British co-workers had no idea what a "nubbin" was when I casually mentioned it in conversation today. Nick had a vague idea that a nubbin was something naughty, which had me worried because I love the word (I urge you to try it for yourself: casually work NUBBIN into your conversation at least once a day and observe your stress levels magically decline). I'd hate to think that I was going around England nonchalantly tossing out dirty words - other than the always-humorous mis-use of "pants" - and so to ease my mind I checked out Wikipedia only to find the following:

NUBBIN (definitions in order of their presentation on the site):
(1) "Nubbin is a character in the first Texas Chainsaw Massacre film. Real name Edward Sawyer, he is the brother of Leatherface and Chop Top. His name in the credits is just Hitchhiker. His role in the family business is to rob graves for purposes which are never made truly clear, although his 'legitimate' employment was at a local slaughterhouse." (I has to include the direct quote; it was just too funny, and disturbingly detailed given the subject of the film in which "Nubbin" was apparently featured).
(2) "Nubbin is also the 'little red dot things' used for a mouse on a keyboard in Episode 45 of Red vs Blue." (Again a direct quote; how can you paraphrase this sentence??)
(3) misshapen vegetable (i.e. like a carrot or potato nubbin)
(4) Chandler Bing's (from 'Friends') third nipple (Granny don't ask)
(5) "Nubbin (medical slang) can also be used to describe any anatomical stump or extra appendage. For example, 'Mr. Jones was very pleased with the appearance of his new nubbin after the above knee amputation.'" (I give up; jet lag requires the third direct quote).

I had definition (3) in mind, as a little bit of bump or some other such lump, as long as it is a cute lump/bump (cuteness is key here). This sentence should indicate (a) the reason I am not writing definitions for Wikipedia - although I could argue that I am more stable than whoever posted all that information about the Nubbin character in Texas Chainsaw Massacre, and (b) that perhaps Nick was also correct, if one considers a nubbin in light of definition (4) (again, apologies to Granny).

In any case, this post is getting awfully rambling and I'm going to blame that on the jet lag instead of my natural tendency towards verbosity. I'm also going declare today's entry, as a whimsical flap of something out of the usual routin, a nubbin.

JET LAG BITES

Soooooooooo ssslllleeeeeeepppppyyyyyy.

We came up with the bright idea of flying home mid-week, arriving Thursday, so that we'd have three days to get back on UK time before heading back to work. Trouble is, I'm not exactly strict with myself about getting up at specific times on the weekend, so I didn't do the best possible job switching my internal clock around. Right now, according to my internal clock, I should be somewhere in the mid-Atlantic. I'm getting hungry at odd times, sleepy at inconvenient times, and cannot get to sleep at appropriate times. Last night I was in bed by 11pm but wide awake from 2am onwards - the nearest I can figure is that 2am here is 6pm (read: DINNERTIME) in Gibsons and my tummy wanted to be fed, in no uncertain terms.

Tough luck, tummy.

I was a semi-zombie at work today but I did manage to stay awake the entire time; I figure that combined with my lack of sleep last night, I should be exhausted enough to sleep through to a more respectable time of 6:30am tomorrow. So g'night from me, and wish me luck!

GETTING BACK, GETTING ORGANIZED

Happy New Year!

I've spent the past two-plus weeks blissfully free of most email and the Internet, and it was liberating to take a short break. However, as Ray and I returned to the UK a couple of days ago, and we head back to work tomorrow, tonight seems as good a time as any to get back to blogging and emailing (if you haven't heard from me in a while, now you know why).

We had a really nice holiday seeing family and friends, although as always there wasn't nearly enough time to spend with everyone. I hope everyone reading this blog enjoyed a good holiday too - you were all in my thoughts even if I didn't get to speak (or write) to you personally.

I'll have a much more extensive update for you tomorrow; as for now, I'm off to bed! I'm anticipating a tough time getting out of bed tomorrow morning at 6:30am.