To anyone who hasn't completly given up on me: I'm back on the blog. I would like to tell you all that the recent months-long lapse has been for a very good reason or that I've been so terribly busy that I've simply been unable to write. But that, dear readers, simply isn't true.
In reality, I am just a lazy bum.
So, in an effort to win you back, I offer a few updates to our lives here in England: Firstly, you should know that though you may have heard rumors about Lego being quite sick, he is now doing very well. He was hospitalized a time or two for his little digestive system, but it seems to have worked itself out and he is quite happily eating and pooping normally now. (Isn't that a relief to you all?!)
Travis has moved offices--he is now just up the street from RAF Lakenheath at RAF Feltwell, where he runs the BMET shop and prepares equipment for Lakenheath's medical deployments. As you can imagine, with Korea, Egypt, and Lybia going crazy, Travis has a lot of work on his hands.
Carrie is still working in the Emergency Department, switching night/day shift every three months (currently on nights). Turns out that nightshifts are a LOT more fun if one switches her internal sleep-clock on her days off, thus maximizing normal-people-awake-hours-with-one's-husband. Also, with Summer months approaching, things are much more pleasant, weather-wise. The sun is out for many more hours, and it's not freezing, freezing, freezing cold all the time. So in general, things are moving in the right direction here!
Now, added to the above good news is this: we are now living in a house with running hot water (gasp!) and central heating! It's amazing! I always wondered what those funny metal thigns on the wall were supposed to do--they're called "radiators" and they produce HEAT!
All jokes aside, the house is fantastic. We had a little trouble getting the king-sized bed up the townhouse stairs into the master bedroom, but--mind-over-matter--Travis and I were able to push-you-pull-me the giant marshmellow up (though I think I have permanent nerve damage to my fingertips from grabbing and pulling the edge of the heavy mattress). Fortunately, the boxsprings are split into two twin-sized parts, so they went up quite easily.
The American couch was much too large to fit up the twisty stairs into the livingroom (or "lounge" at is it referred to here), so my genius husband bypassed the stairs and lifted it through the large French doors (after removing the balcony railing--which had been previously bolted into the exterior wall of our house).
We received all our household goods; all the dishes, furniture, wall decor, clothes, cooking items, tools, books...all the things we'd done without for the first 6 months of our living in England! After installing a few power converter/transformer boxes throughout the house so to avoid buying all-new appliances, things really started to come together.
We ordered some custom wardrobes for the master bedroom (no closets in British houses), and waited patiently as they were constructed in a warehouse somewhere, then scheduled the delivery and installation date. We we thrilled! We would have a place to hang our clothes that is not a shower curtain rod! And really, since the wardrobes aren't THAT complicated--it's only one straight wall after all--the construction guys who are here to put them together should be able to do them in a snap. Sure, they'd be there during the day, when those of us who work nightshift would be trying to sleep, but it couldn't possibly be too noisy, could it? I mean, the shelves and bits have already been measured and cut; they only need to be put together like IKEA furniture, right?
My first clue that this would not be the case was when the construction fellow first arrived and started carrying boxes up to the master bedroom. Following the first box or two came a power drill. Then a shop-vac, then a table saw. Literally, a table saw.
The gentleman who put the wardrobes together was very friendly and self-sufficient, but needless to say, there was not a lot of sleep happening for the two full days of wardrobe construction/installation. My neighbors actually texted to make sure I was alright, since it sounded like someone was deconstructing the house, they said. My coworkers also appreciated my lack of sleep, saying something about how friendly and enjoyable I was...or something like that.
Installation noise aside, the wardrobes are fantastic, and we love the style, color, and finish. Pics coming soon.
Bottom line is this: my kitchen is small, but wonderful, the diningroom has already proven its worth with guests and dinner parties, the bedroom is perfect, the livingroom--er, excuse me, lounge--is comfortable and great for TV, thanks to Travis and his couch lifting abilites. The guestroom is ready to be finished, now that we can move the clothes into the newly-finished wardrobes, and all is right in our little world, in our little home.
Thursday, 28 April 2011
Monday, 14 February 2011
Well, Folks....It's FINALLY Happening!
After months of waiting, getting our hopes up, and having said hopes dashed into the dirt (and spat upon)...we are finally moving into our new house. I must be honest with you, I began to doubt whether it would ever happen, but things are finally falling into place.
We did our first walk-through of the (nearly) completed property on Friday and...wow, it is really a spectacular sight! The builders are laying the carpet and turf today, but otherwise, she's ready for us to move in! As soon as the bank transfers the money into the solicitor's [translation: lawyer to you yanks] account, we will pick up the keys and move in. That creates a lovely, warm, happy feeling in my soul.
An interesting phenomenon to note:
The last time we walked through the same model/floorplan for this house was in September. Since then, our brains have been busy imagining and picturing our new house. During last week's walk-through, we were amazed at how drastically the builders changed the proportions of the rooms (okay, okay...it's POSSIBLE that our imaginations are not exactly 100% accurate)! The living room is twice the size I was picturing it. The bedroom is half as long as I'd remembered. The kitchen is much better sized (and way less WHITE. Plus, I have a gas stovetop--who knew?!). The front entryway is miniscule. The study--being the only room was could see from our stalker positions in the middle of the night with a flashlight--is the only room that looks remotely as we'd expected!
The good thing about all of this is that the house is better--much better--than I'd remembered. Even the rooms that are smaller than I thought are great, the layout is smooth and useable, and the whole thing is very "us." We could not be happier!
We did our first walk-through of the (nearly) completed property on Friday and...wow, it is really a spectacular sight! The builders are laying the carpet and turf today, but otherwise, she's ready for us to move in! As soon as the bank transfers the money into the solicitor's [translation: lawyer to you yanks] account, we will pick up the keys and move in. That creates a lovely, warm, happy feeling in my soul.
An interesting phenomenon to note:
The last time we walked through the same model/floorplan for this house was in September. Since then, our brains have been busy imagining and picturing our new house. During last week's walk-through, we were amazed at how drastically the builders changed the proportions of the rooms (okay, okay...it's POSSIBLE that our imaginations are not exactly 100% accurate)! The living room is twice the size I was picturing it. The bedroom is half as long as I'd remembered. The kitchen is much better sized (and way less WHITE. Plus, I have a gas stovetop--who knew?!). The front entryway is miniscule. The study--being the only room was could see from our stalker positions in the middle of the night with a flashlight--is the only room that looks remotely as we'd expected!
The good thing about all of this is that the house is better--much better--than I'd remembered. Even the rooms that are smaller than I thought are great, the layout is smooth and useable, and the whole thing is very "us." We could not be happier!
Wednesday, 1 December 2010
Our House in Bury St Edmunds
I would like to take a moment to discuss our current living situation in Bury St Edmunds. We absolutely love the town--it's old and historic with lovely architecture and cute little shops and restaurants. My favorite little French place is "downtown" in the square, and we recently ate at a new lovely Italian place. Tesco--the best grocery store in the world--is just around the corner, and the famous gardens are just down the street. The town is 30-40 minutes from work, but the commute is pleasant and scenic.
Our HOUSE, however, leaves a little something to be desired. By "something", I mean "heat." It is regularly 25-30 degress F outside, and it's been snowing since Thanksgiving, but houses here are primarily heated by hot water radiators. This would be just fine, except that the pump that circulates hot water through the house is not in good working order. (That is to say that the "pump that SHOULD BE circulating hot water...")
This means that there is not only no working hot water in any of our sinks (the shower has a separate pump and works fine), but there is also no heat function in our radiators. They are purely decorative. Don't get me wrong, as radiators go, they are as attractive as any I've seen, but I would prefer they actually provide one microscump* of warmth.
Due to the lack of hot water to our sinks, we boil hot water in the tea kettle for washing dishes, we brush our teeth and wash our faces with freezing cold water. This is delightful, let me assure you.
We felt ourselves quite clever when we purchased a space heater, which effectively warms one room.
"Perfect!" we exclaimed to each other.
"We are only in one room at a time, after all--this will keep us warm during the frosty, frozen weeks until we move into our new house with lovely, amazing, wondrous gas heating."
It was a wonderful solution until I began working the nightshift, at which point I began sleeping during the day, whilst Travis continued to sleep normally during the night. I, of course spend my nights off in our living room while Travis is sleeping upstairs in the bedroom. We have begun fighting over the heater. We may need to buy a SECOND space heater, in order to heat both the bedroom and the livingroom, in order to preserve our marriage.
...Waiting--rather impatiently--to move into our glorious new house...soon, soon.
*Very technical term--measure of heat.
Our HOUSE, however, leaves a little something to be desired. By "something", I mean "heat." It is regularly 25-30 degress F outside, and it's been snowing since Thanksgiving, but houses here are primarily heated by hot water radiators. This would be just fine, except that the pump that circulates hot water through the house is not in good working order. (That is to say that the "pump that SHOULD BE circulating hot water...")
This means that there is not only no working hot water in any of our sinks (the shower has a separate pump and works fine), but there is also no heat function in our radiators. They are purely decorative. Don't get me wrong, as radiators go, they are as attractive as any I've seen, but I would prefer they actually provide one microscump* of warmth.
Due to the lack of hot water to our sinks, we boil hot water in the tea kettle for washing dishes, we brush our teeth and wash our faces with freezing cold water. This is delightful, let me assure you.
We felt ourselves quite clever when we purchased a space heater, which effectively warms one room.
"Perfect!" we exclaimed to each other.
"We are only in one room at a time, after all--this will keep us warm during the frosty, frozen weeks until we move into our new house with lovely, amazing, wondrous gas heating."
It was a wonderful solution until I began working the nightshift, at which point I began sleeping during the day, whilst Travis continued to sleep normally during the night. I, of course spend my nights off in our living room while Travis is sleeping upstairs in the bedroom. We have begun fighting over the heater. We may need to buy a SECOND space heater, in order to heat both the bedroom and the livingroom, in order to preserve our marriage.
...Waiting--rather impatiently--to move into our glorious new house...soon, soon.
*Very technical term--measure of heat.
Best Restaurant Experience Yet
My delightful husband took me to a terrific dinner the evening after my PT test, in light of my hard workouts, strict diet, and er--very slightly elevated stress level during the preceeding weeks. We went to a local Italian restaurant in Bury St. Edmunds, where we are currently living in our temporary house.
We shared a delicious pizza and pasta combo; the atmosphere was lovely and the waiter prompt and polite. All in all, we were carefree and relaxed, and thoroughly enjoyed ourselves.
When the waiter brought the check at the end of our meal, he expressed surprise at Travis' handing him a British "chip and pin" debit card. (We were required to start a British checking account for the house purchase, but most U.S. military personnel do not, as it's a bit of a hassle.)
Travis gently asked the British waiter to shed some light on an ongoing debate, "Sir, could you tell that we were Americans when you approached our table? Or did you only realize that we were from the U.S. when we spoke?"
The waiter replied that he only knew we were not locals when he heard our accents--that we did not, in his estimation look any different from the local customers. "As a general rule," he continued, "It's very easy to spot Americans from across the room--they have a sort of confidence about them." He continued to describe the American affect, pausing to emphasize a particular brand of egotism.
"There are a few American military bases not far from here, actually, and when the U.S. Air Force chaps come in--[at this point he puffed out his chest as though to show a cocky, muscle-bound Kronk-like figure]--"they're so loud--they shout across the room and swagger about...."
He must've described the "U.S. Air Force members" for 45 seconds or so before he noticed either Travis' haricut or the look on our faces as we attempted to maintain a sort of polite interest in his observations.
He paused for a moment and said, "You're not Air Force, are you?"
We laughed and told him that we both are, as it happens. The poor waiter was thoroughly embarassed and immediately began a stream of apologies, but we were all laughing within a few moments; we told him we knew the sort of military personnel about whom he spoke.
All in all, a lovely dinner and a lovely time at the restaurant...we chuckled about it most of the night, and I still think he was a terrific waiter!
We shared a delicious pizza and pasta combo; the atmosphere was lovely and the waiter prompt and polite. All in all, we were carefree and relaxed, and thoroughly enjoyed ourselves.
When the waiter brought the check at the end of our meal, he expressed surprise at Travis' handing him a British "chip and pin" debit card. (We were required to start a British checking account for the house purchase, but most U.S. military personnel do not, as it's a bit of a hassle.)
Travis gently asked the British waiter to shed some light on an ongoing debate, "Sir, could you tell that we were Americans when you approached our table? Or did you only realize that we were from the U.S. when we spoke?"
The waiter replied that he only knew we were not locals when he heard our accents--that we did not, in his estimation look any different from the local customers. "As a general rule," he continued, "It's very easy to spot Americans from across the room--they have a sort of confidence about them." He continued to describe the American affect, pausing to emphasize a particular brand of egotism.
"There are a few American military bases not far from here, actually, and when the U.S. Air Force chaps come in--[at this point he puffed out his chest as though to show a cocky, muscle-bound Kronk-like figure]--"they're so loud--they shout across the room and swagger about...."
He must've described the "U.S. Air Force members" for 45 seconds or so before he noticed either Travis' haricut or the look on our faces as we attempted to maintain a sort of polite interest in his observations.
He paused for a moment and said, "You're not Air Force, are you?"
We laughed and told him that we both are, as it happens. The poor waiter was thoroughly embarassed and immediately began a stream of apologies, but we were all laughing within a few moments; we told him we knew the sort of military personnel about whom he spoke.
All in all, a lovely dinner and a lovely time at the restaurant...we chuckled about it most of the night, and I still think he was a terrific waiter!
Wednesday, 13 October 2010
Olfactory Fatigue...Unfortunately Only in my Dreams
The little town in which we currently reside has a sugar beet canning factory in it. It's about three blocks from our rental home, across the street from Tesco (the grocery store, my favorite place in the world).
This week, the entire town reeks of beets. Now, for those of you who know not of my beet aversion, let me say this: I'm not fond of beets. Actually, I detest them. They are gorss. Travis does not seem to mind (He says, "it smells like...dirty bread.") Lego is similiarly uninterested.
I, however, see the town and everything in it in a sort of reddish-purple haze. Our beige car looks maroon, our grass looks burgundy, Lego has taken on a sort of cabernet hue. I cannot stop thinking about beets. They are everywhere, and I think of beet pickles, steamed beets, chilled beets, beet roots, beet sandwhiches, beet salad, and beet soup (and also watermelon pickles, because I associate them with beets...both were gross things that Mom used to eat out of a jar from the fridge during my formative years). All food sort of tastes like beets (my Red Bull has never had such a beety flavor), and the stench of beets is permiating my skin. As I type this, I am eating a cheddar rice cake and a mozzerella string cheese stick...both taste like yucky, icky, gross, purple, stinky, horrible, squishy, staining, gritty, grainy, DISGUSTING beets!!!
On a more positive note, we exchanged contracts on the new house yesterday! We have paid our downpayment and the lawyers have switched signed contracts...the mortgage is set and we're just waiting for them to finish the building now! The best part about the move will be the lovely new little village to which we'll be moving--quiet, calm, peaceful, and best of all...NO BEETS!!
This week, the entire town reeks of beets. Now, for those of you who know not of my beet aversion, let me say this: I'm not fond of beets. Actually, I detest them. They are gorss. Travis does not seem to mind (He says, "it smells like...dirty bread.") Lego is similiarly uninterested.
I, however, see the town and everything in it in a sort of reddish-purple haze. Our beige car looks maroon, our grass looks burgundy, Lego has taken on a sort of cabernet hue. I cannot stop thinking about beets. They are everywhere, and I think of beet pickles, steamed beets, chilled beets, beet roots, beet sandwhiches, beet salad, and beet soup (and also watermelon pickles, because I associate them with beets...both were gross things that Mom used to eat out of a jar from the fridge during my formative years). All food sort of tastes like beets (my Red Bull has never had such a beety flavor), and the stench of beets is permiating my skin. As I type this, I am eating a cheddar rice cake and a mozzerella string cheese stick...both taste like yucky, icky, gross, purple, stinky, horrible, squishy, staining, gritty, grainy, DISGUSTING beets!!!
On a more positive note, we exchanged contracts on the new house yesterday! We have paid our downpayment and the lawyers have switched signed contracts...the mortgage is set and we're just waiting for them to finish the building now! The best part about the move will be the lovely new little village to which we'll be moving--quiet, calm, peaceful, and best of all...NO BEETS!!
Monday, 11 October 2010
The Deliciousness of British Food...really.
Travis and I don't see each other much these days, due to our crazy conflicting work schedules. I work night shift on a Panama rotation (work two, off two, work three, off two, work two, off three etc.) and Travis works 8 hour shifts Monday through Friday. With our 30 minute commute, this results in us meeting each other--by which I mean "driving past each other" in Tuddinham village on my way home, his way to work. Then, we pass each other again at the pig farm on my way back into work, on his way home. When we see each other in time (and it's not too dark to recognize each other's cars) we flash our lights at each other as though to say "I love you" in headlight-morse-code.
This last weekend, however, was one of those rare, lovely times, when we were both not working at the same time. Now, I'm still on a night sleep schedule and he's still on days, but if we stretch a little, we can be only slightly sleep deprived while we spend about 10 hours together. We had the most beautiful, lovely Italian dinner together (we tasted a new kind of goat cheese on baguette that was so delicious it literally brought tears to my eyes) and saw a movie, we went running (at midnight, since our sleep cycles get all messed up during these times off) and spent the weekend in general appreciation of each other and our time together.
On to more universally interesting things:
I am really getting into cooking the British way. I realize that this may sound terrifying--if you believe all the garbage about how gross British food is (I think that is one of those things where people say, "Don't try these delicious, er, HORRIBLE chocolate cakes...they're TERRIBLE. You won't like them," in order to keep others from partaking in deliciousness). British folks really know how to do sausage RIGHT. Travis and I had pasta with marinara sauce and Apple Pork sausages...it changed my life.
I've ranted and raved about the grocery stores much before, I'm sure, but honestly, shopping here is a whole different experience than at home.
Tesco is my favorite place in the world--it's the general, in every town grocery store, but it is my favorite part about England so far. Most of the store is "prepared foods," but not like you think of them in the States. They're all from within the UK (so nothing could have travelled for more than about 8 hours, max) and they're all prepared fresh (and deliciously), so that if you would like to feed your family something tasty and relatively good for them, you can buy a little Tupperware container of mashed potatoes (but actually really GOOD, fresh mashed potatoes) and a little baggie of mixed vegetables (but actually fresh, green, the-ones-you'd-pick vegitables) and a couple steaks, all for about 8 pounds (or $12). Then you have a great dinner for the energy it takes to steam pre-trimmed veggies and broil a ribeye, not do all the prep work! There's a whole different attitude about dinners and how much work should be involved in making regular ol, everyday meals. There are isles of prepared foods and sides (from many cultures and countries), so it's easy to vary our diet without having to learn how to make Vietnamese food. In fact, I have come to trust even their pre-cooked desserts. I can BUY a pie at the grocery store for the equivalent of about 4 bucks--that is actually good. It's not the same as eating a pie that Laura just made, but it is a good quality pie--certainly as good as a restaurant or friend who doesn't make pies with quite the dedication that the Boehlkes do. :)
However, for special occasions (or when one feels like spending a lot of time and energy cooking a great meal), the selection of produce, meats, cheeses, breads, etc., is increadible. We've been eating the most amazing food, for pretty cheap, and without me pulling my hair out because I have to start a meal from scratch after 14 hours of work on my feet in the hospital. It's a good system, that's all I'm saying.
Travis got Lego a new stuffed toy--his last one, George (the Giraffe) had zero ears, no horns or eyes, one leg, and his face was torn open...it was time. The new one (Toni the Tiger) is very large. I'm not 100% sure that Travis didn't get it in the child toy section of the store, it's nearly as big as Lego! However, Lego fell in love with Toni. He drags her everywhere he goes, though with some difficulty, as her legs are ropes that are anchored into her body, and she weighs quite a lot. Lego will attempt to jump onto the couch with Toni in tow, which he usually cannot do. Then he will try to jump on the couch, reach down, and pull her up with him. She's too heavy. Then he will jump down to Toni, pull her up, and puuuuuuuuuuuush with his nose and straaaaaaaaaaain with his neck until Toni is safely on the couch, where he follows. It's an adorable, exhausting process.
The house process is coming to an end!! We were originally scheduled to close on the deal last Friday, but searches and paperwork held things up a bit...we should be official house-owners tomorrow or Wednesday-I'll keep you posted!
Thursday, 23 September 2010
A Few Thoughts for Today
Hello, dear family and friends!
There are not a lot of new things going on at the moment, but I thought I might share some thoughts about my work here. But first: a few facts which, together, equal a funny party story.
Brits call the clothing worn betwixt waist and ankles "trousers."
To the British, "pants” is a shortened version of the word "underpants."
To the British, "pants” is a shortened version of the word "underpants."
The word "khaki," when pronounced by an Englishman sounds like "cocky." When an American says "khaki," it sounds to a Brit like "cacky," their word meaning "poopy."
Thus, when an American says he (or she of course) is wearing khaki pants to the party, it sounds to the Brit as though she will be arriving in poopy underwear.
Work is…different, in a refreshing, pleasant way. I work two or three days, then get two or three days off; it’s a traditional shift-work schedule, and while I get a lot of time off, I work a lot of 12+ hour shifts, which is quite tiring after the third day of work. However, I have a great shift of folks who work with me, and I really enjoy the patient care aspect of the work here. I do a lot of stitches, IVs, wound care, ortho/casting, and other urgent care sorts of things. Not too many true emergencies, but we do have at least one unconscious drunk guy per weekend who needs to be picked up in an ambulance and sobered up, so that’s always a good time…!
We have a four bed ER—we see about 30 patients per day…it’s slow—I’m not going to lie to you—but because it’s small, we don’t have any students, residents, etc, and we get to do all the sutures and other cool things that need to be done. It’s a good kind of work.
I’m deeply entrenched in home decorating and painting—the British version of Home Depot is the greatest place ever!! I love to browse at paint colors (and Martha Stewart’s recommended schemes) until I’m no longer able to distinguish any color—it’s my version of online gambling; I’m totally addicted! My current favorite colors are putty/grey/beige and gentle pastel sage green. I’m pretty excited about it!
The weather here is amazing when compared to San Antonio! It’s cool most days, a little dark and grey, but crisp and lovely. Some days are sunny and clear, but still not hot or humid, and I must say, it’s perfect. You will all have to come visit me, because I like it here so much that I may not ever leave...!
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