Here in my little (semi) detached terrace (as my home is called, if I'm not mistaken) there are a couple of utilities that I have to pay. Namely, electricity and heat. Water, apparently, is included in the property tax in N.I. (at least for now...apparently that might change). Like any house in the states, I have a water heater, but unlike most houses in the states, I have to turn it on when I want hot water. Now I was told that it's a real electricity guzzler so I should use it sparingly and turn it off when I'm finished. They recommended I turn it on about 30 minutes before a shower. Today I was running short on time and hey, it would conserve energy anyway, so I tried 15.
15 minutes is not enough.
And cold showers are unpleasant.
Saturday, 28 August 2010
Friday, 27 August 2010
Some musings on life and faith...and driving.
Sitting on the beach this evening, watching as the sun sank between clouds alternately illuminating barnacle covered rocks and translucent cerulean white caps and plunging them into a cold dimness, I began to wonder if, after a year of being here, I would begin to take this beauty for granted. Red tinged cumulous clouds billow over Scotland on the horizon. Off to the right there's part of a rainbow hanging mysteriously in the sky. Seagulls, terns and cormorants chase each other near the crashing surf. Right now, I'm seeing these things with fresh eyes, with a sense of wonder. Next August, how will I see this place? And it raises the question--what do I take for granted at home? Do I stop and marvel at pregnant thunderheads hanging over the plains of Kansas, frisking the earth with fingers of electric purple? Does snow gently falling over the East Coast arrest me in the middle of my day with joy? How often do I really see the world that is so familiar; how do I make it unfamiliar again?
This Sunday, I've been asked to do the readings in service: Psalm 118:19-29 and the story of the ten lepers (Luke 17:11-17). In the first, "This is the day that the LORD has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it" Psalm 118:24. In the second, out of ten people healed, only one returns to give praise to God. Somehow these passages resonate with my own thoughts today--how often do we turn back and give thanks for the extraordinary? How often do we truly rejoice in this day that the LORD has made? The answer for me is "not nearly enough". Perhaps this year will be a lesson in rejoicing. I know I need it.
Rewind a couple of hours. The Clerk of Session took me out for my first drive today. Perhaps I should be rejoicing in the fact that we're both still alive and the car is just fine. After three months of my mother's expert tutelage in driving a stick, that aspect of the ride went delightfully well. I only stalled once and I'm not counting it because it was in the process of learning to start on a hill with the hand brake on--which is not the way that I learned to do it here. When using that particular method, one has to take one's foot off of the break. I forgot which foot was which and took my foot off of the clutch...stall. See. It doesn't count. No, the real kicker was driving on the left. Oh it's fine when you're on the road going straight and all; it's when you turn that the instinct kicks in and you head for the right lane, which also happens to be the lane of the oncoming traffic. Definitely a no no. Aside from that minor detail, it's almost like learning to drive all over again because, I don't know about you, but when I was 16 I had a tendency to think that I was far too close to the middle of the road and stayed uncomfortably close (to those teaching me to drive) to the curb. Well, it's the same now. I feel that I'm much too close to the cars coming toward us so I have the uncanny habit of rubbing up against the hedges. My incredibly patient teacher tells me that everyone does it, not to worry. I'm still a little worried.
Aside from these things, the only notable thing that happened to me today was that I got food. This, I think, is a definite plus.
More pictures...they're supposed to be mostly of clouds, but my camera didn't read my mind on that one and so some of them didn't work so well. There are a couple that are of a rainbow. It looked better in person.
Clouds, a rainbow...and clouds
This Sunday, I've been asked to do the readings in service: Psalm 118:19-29 and the story of the ten lepers (Luke 17:11-17). In the first, "This is the day that the LORD has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it" Psalm 118:24. In the second, out of ten people healed, only one returns to give praise to God. Somehow these passages resonate with my own thoughts today--how often do we turn back and give thanks for the extraordinary? How often do we truly rejoice in this day that the LORD has made? The answer for me is "not nearly enough". Perhaps this year will be a lesson in rejoicing. I know I need it.
Rewind a couple of hours. The Clerk of Session took me out for my first drive today. Perhaps I should be rejoicing in the fact that we're both still alive and the car is just fine. After three months of my mother's expert tutelage in driving a stick, that aspect of the ride went delightfully well. I only stalled once and I'm not counting it because it was in the process of learning to start on a hill with the hand brake on--which is not the way that I learned to do it here. When using that particular method, one has to take one's foot off of the break. I forgot which foot was which and took my foot off of the clutch...stall. See. It doesn't count. No, the real kicker was driving on the left. Oh it's fine when you're on the road going straight and all; it's when you turn that the instinct kicks in and you head for the right lane, which also happens to be the lane of the oncoming traffic. Definitely a no no. Aside from that minor detail, it's almost like learning to drive all over again because, I don't know about you, but when I was 16 I had a tendency to think that I was far too close to the middle of the road and stayed uncomfortably close (to those teaching me to drive) to the curb. Well, it's the same now. I feel that I'm much too close to the cars coming toward us so I have the uncanny habit of rubbing up against the hedges. My incredibly patient teacher tells me that everyone does it, not to worry. I'm still a little worried.
Aside from these things, the only notable thing that happened to me today was that I got food. This, I think, is a definite plus.
More pictures...they're supposed to be mostly of clouds, but my camera didn't read my mind on that one and so some of them didn't work so well. There are a couple that are of a rainbow. It looked better in person.
Clouds, a rainbow...and clouds
Right...
So, in the midst of jogging this morning I remembered one of the things that I'd forgotten from my list of things I learned despite being jet lagged:
5. I probably would get kicked out of town if I actually tried to move here because I wouldn't keep my grass short enough and my garden would stop looking beautiful after about a week. Wednesday, when I returned to the Pastor's house for dinner, he was out cutting the grass. Mind, his yard already looked like a golf course, immaculately manicured, an ethereal, almost glowing shade of green and not a weed in sight. But it was getting a trim anyhow. And I don't think that this is just a quirk of his...I've not seen a lawn yet that has even a blade out of place. When I cut mom's grass this summer I had little lines that I'd missed between passes running the length of the yard that stuck up rebelliously like the mohawks of teenagers. I seriously hope that no one asks me to do the mowing for them; it'd be a sore disappointment.
As for the gardens...well, it seems that every house has one and they're absolutely stunning. Riotous patches of color expertly chosen to suit one another and kept in line by brick and stone walls, beautiful planters and well-mulched, weed-free beds. The beauty of them inspires me to dream about planting in the backyard of this house. But I'm pretty sure I know how that experiment would end. The analogy that comes to mind is that time in chemistry class when Mr. Gauvin put a small piece of magnesium in a bucket of water outside. It exploded.
Perhaps I'll ask the Pastor or one of the church members if I might take a picture of their yard just to give you a sample of the beauty.
For now...here are some pictures from the morning run. It's a beautiful day again, so far. A man I met on the beach walking his dog (there are lots of dogs here ^.^) said that the weather's nice because it's the first week the kids are back in school. It would be just like the weather to taunt innocent children in such a way. But for the moment, I'm choosing to believe that I brought it with me.
My Morning Run
5. I probably would get kicked out of town if I actually tried to move here because I wouldn't keep my grass short enough and my garden would stop looking beautiful after about a week. Wednesday, when I returned to the Pastor's house for dinner, he was out cutting the grass. Mind, his yard already looked like a golf course, immaculately manicured, an ethereal, almost glowing shade of green and not a weed in sight. But it was getting a trim anyhow. And I don't think that this is just a quirk of his...I've not seen a lawn yet that has even a blade out of place. When I cut mom's grass this summer I had little lines that I'd missed between passes running the length of the yard that stuck up rebelliously like the mohawks of teenagers. I seriously hope that no one asks me to do the mowing for them; it'd be a sore disappointment.
As for the gardens...well, it seems that every house has one and they're absolutely stunning. Riotous patches of color expertly chosen to suit one another and kept in line by brick and stone walls, beautiful planters and well-mulched, weed-free beds. The beauty of them inspires me to dream about planting in the backyard of this house. But I'm pretty sure I know how that experiment would end. The analogy that comes to mind is that time in chemistry class when Mr. Gauvin put a small piece of magnesium in a bucket of water outside. It exploded.
Perhaps I'll ask the Pastor or one of the church members if I might take a picture of their yard just to give you a sample of the beauty.
For now...here are some pictures from the morning run. It's a beautiful day again, so far. A man I met on the beach walking his dog (there are lots of dogs here ^.^) said that the weather's nice because it's the first week the kids are back in school. It would be just like the weather to taunt innocent children in such a way. But for the moment, I'm choosing to believe that I brought it with me.
My Morning Run
Thursday, 26 August 2010
A few things that I've learned through the jet lag...
So...Despite the considerable jet lag, the unexpected awakening at 2 am as a police car and then ambulance appeared at my neighbor's house (no worries, she's okay), and the brilliant idea to stay up until 4 in order to watch Psych with friends (stupid--yes, regrets--no), I've learned a couple of things since my arrival here in Groomsport.
1. Always leave your blinds open just a smidge. Yes, I'm serious. Because apparently if they're closed people think that a. you're sleeping or b. someone's died. I know this because my bedroom and living room both look out on the street and it's a relatively busy one for a town of this size. Thinking nothing of it, I left my blinds in both rooms completely shut today, for the sake of privacy and because they don't really block the light. Later, sitting in the car of the Pastor's wife in the parking lot across the street, she very kindly asked if I would open them and then gently gave me the explanation as to why. So today I inadvertently declared to the world in a bold voice, "I am dead!" Or maybe just sleeping.
2. Even the seaweed is greener here. Feel free to disagree. I'll argue my point until you have to shut your blinds all the way.
3. It's always sunny in Groomsport? Despite everyone telling me that I should expect rain rain rain, nothing but rain, I've only seen sun.
4. I'm glad I went to high school in the states. I'd be in an institution by now if I hadn't.
You know you're not firing on all 6 cylinders when there was a list of things you'd learned in your head just an hour ago and now it's gone. Perhaps it'll come back tomorrow. Until then...Here're links to pictures if you want to see what I've been up to. They're not all my best, but you get the sense of it...
1. A morning hike
2. An evening stroll on the beach
1. Always leave your blinds open just a smidge. Yes, I'm serious. Because apparently if they're closed people think that a. you're sleeping or b. someone's died. I know this because my bedroom and living room both look out on the street and it's a relatively busy one for a town of this size. Thinking nothing of it, I left my blinds in both rooms completely shut today, for the sake of privacy and because they don't really block the light. Later, sitting in the car of the Pastor's wife in the parking lot across the street, she very kindly asked if I would open them and then gently gave me the explanation as to why. So today I inadvertently declared to the world in a bold voice, "I am dead!" Or maybe just sleeping.
2. Even the seaweed is greener here. Feel free to disagree. I'll argue my point until you have to shut your blinds all the way.
3. It's always sunny in Groomsport? Despite everyone telling me that I should expect rain rain rain, nothing but rain, I've only seen sun.
4. I'm glad I went to high school in the states. I'd be in an institution by now if I hadn't.
You know you're not firing on all 6 cylinders when there was a list of things you'd learned in your head just an hour ago and now it's gone. Perhaps it'll come back tomorrow. Until then...Here're links to pictures if you want to see what I've been up to. They're not all my best, but you get the sense of it...
1. A morning hike
2. An evening stroll on the beach
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