So, the year is over. I'm no longer in the purple house, and wonder if I should retire this blog.
This is open to everyone, and there are things I'd like to say that perhaps everyone doesn't want to hear. This is not the place, even though man, I've got some rant inside me now. Major rantage.
But no, it's all positive, sunshine-y, happy day stuff here.
Not interesting, I know.
What to do? I'm waffling.
Friday, August 20, 2010
Sunday, August 8, 2010
Boring Car Purchase Post
So, there are still bags all over the living room floor, and I've not even started to look at all the crap stuff I have in storage. That will happen after I get back from Vegas.
Buying the car was a big deal. I've never bought a car alone before, let alone a new car. I know, I'm a big girl now, but the last time I bought a car (with my sister's haggling help), I ended up in tears before the process was over. I was not looking forward to it.
However, it was rather painless, other than I was at the dealership from ten in the morning until about 5:30 at night. Yeah, it took some time. See, I'm the kind of person who likes to look up all the reviews on the car first, check out the blue book price, run the carfax on the Vin number so I know it's not been in a horrible accident or anything. That's what I did.
Thursday I went to three different car dealerships, but I wasn't finding anything I liked. The Toyota place didn't even have the Scion Xb that I thought I wanted. Not even to test drive. Not a good sales plan. They kept pushing the SUV type of car on me that I definitely don't want. At one point, even a used pt cruiser.
Now, I hope none of you have one of these, but that is one funny looking car. I hate them. I'm not actually too much into looks, but that one? Ew. It looks like something that the boys who drove the souped up El Dorados in high school would think was cool now that they are in their 40's. I can't even say why I think they're so ugly, but I do. And you know? All three dealerships had used ones for sale. And all three thought I might be interested.
Finally, I found a used Subaru wagon that seemed pretty much what I wanted. Low mileage, well-taken care of, one owner and all that. Manual drive, but no big deal, I've had one before, so I wasn't going to have to learn a new way of driving, right?
Went home, looked it up on the internet, checked the reviews and thought "Cool. I've found my car."
Came back Friday, and did the test drive.
Disappointment.
This was the most uncomfortable car to drive ever. I couldn't believe it. Every time I shifted into second or fourth gear, my elbow would hit the center arm rest (which was hard plastic). Bad. Okay, but that can be removed, right? Next, the steering wheel was at an almost 90 degree angle, and no, the "tilt control" didn't actually tilt it, just moved it up or down. I could tell I would not have happy wrists if I was driving more than five miles anywhere. Lastly, there was no where at all to rest my elbows. Even if the center arm rest was left in place, it was behind my arm (hence the elbow banging only when I shifted into the gears on the bottom of the stick shift). The window ledge was too high, and the arm rest on the door too low. Yech, yech, yech.
I had really wanted that car.
You know what? I'm boring myself. Let's cut to the end result.
I bought a black car. Made it very clear from the start I didn't want a black car. Nope, nope, nope. It gets too hot and shows the dirt. My landlady doesn't let us wash our cars in the driveway, so it won't be getting washed too often.
I wanted the bright blue or the chocolate brown or even the ice blue one.
None of which they had on the lot.
When $2000 was taken off the price, and the premium package thrown in for free (well, it was already on the model they had available), I decided that holding out and paying that much more for a color probably wasn't the most prudent thing. I accepted.
I own a black, Nissan Vesra Hatchback. I don't have a picture yet, but man, it's got bells and whistles. It's got an Ipod dock (hilarious for me, since as most of you know I won't support Ipod or Ipod products and their proprietary nature), a bluetooth set up (meaning that I can hook my phone up to my car. There's a microphone and everything), and all kinds of other tricks I've not figured out yet.
Payments start next month.
Guess there will be less shopping for shoes for the next five years.
I need to go lie down.
Buying the car was a big deal. I've never bought a car alone before, let alone a new car. I know, I'm a big girl now, but the last time I bought a car (with my sister's haggling help), I ended up in tears before the process was over. I was not looking forward to it.
However, it was rather painless, other than I was at the dealership from ten in the morning until about 5:30 at night. Yeah, it took some time. See, I'm the kind of person who likes to look up all the reviews on the car first, check out the blue book price, run the carfax on the Vin number so I know it's not been in a horrible accident or anything. That's what I did.
Thursday I went to three different car dealerships, but I wasn't finding anything I liked. The Toyota place didn't even have the Scion Xb that I thought I wanted. Not even to test drive. Not a good sales plan. They kept pushing the SUV type of car on me that I definitely don't want. At one point, even a used pt cruiser.
Now, I hope none of you have one of these, but that is one funny looking car. I hate them. I'm not actually too much into looks, but that one? Ew. It looks like something that the boys who drove the souped up El Dorados in high school would think was cool now that they are in their 40's. I can't even say why I think they're so ugly, but I do. And you know? All three dealerships had used ones for sale. And all three thought I might be interested.
Finally, I found a used Subaru wagon that seemed pretty much what I wanted. Low mileage, well-taken care of, one owner and all that. Manual drive, but no big deal, I've had one before, so I wasn't going to have to learn a new way of driving, right?
Went home, looked it up on the internet, checked the reviews and thought "Cool. I've found my car."
Came back Friday, and did the test drive.
Disappointment.
This was the most uncomfortable car to drive ever. I couldn't believe it. Every time I shifted into second or fourth gear, my elbow would hit the center arm rest (which was hard plastic). Bad. Okay, but that can be removed, right? Next, the steering wheel was at an almost 90 degree angle, and no, the "tilt control" didn't actually tilt it, just moved it up or down. I could tell I would not have happy wrists if I was driving more than five miles anywhere. Lastly, there was no where at all to rest my elbows. Even if the center arm rest was left in place, it was behind my arm (hence the elbow banging only when I shifted into the gears on the bottom of the stick shift). The window ledge was too high, and the arm rest on the door too low. Yech, yech, yech.
I had really wanted that car.
You know what? I'm boring myself. Let's cut to the end result.
I bought a black car. Made it very clear from the start I didn't want a black car. Nope, nope, nope. It gets too hot and shows the dirt. My landlady doesn't let us wash our cars in the driveway, so it won't be getting washed too often.
I wanted the bright blue or the chocolate brown or even the ice blue one.
None of which they had on the lot.
When $2000 was taken off the price, and the premium package thrown in for free (well, it was already on the model they had available), I decided that holding out and paying that much more for a color probably wasn't the most prudent thing. I accepted.
I own a black, Nissan Vesra Hatchback. I don't have a picture yet, but man, it's got bells and whistles. It's got an Ipod dock (hilarious for me, since as most of you know I won't support Ipod or Ipod products and their proprietary nature), a bluetooth set up (meaning that I can hook my phone up to my car. There's a microphone and everything), and all kinds of other tricks I've not figured out yet.
Payments start next month.
Guess there will be less shopping for shoes for the next five years.
I need to go lie down.
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
I'm home.
(count how many times I use the word "best")
Did this last year really happen?Luckily, G. picked me up at 7 in the morning to drive me to Heathrow and help me schlep my bags to the check-in counter. We did a bit of walking too; we went to terminal 3 when we were supposed to be at terminal 1. Oops. We had time for breakfast though, and I was really glad to have someone with me at the end (Thanks G. And no, it wasn't only the help with my luggage).
There are photos of me on Facebook with all my bags. It's weird that it's so much stuff, and yet I had to weed out all kinds of things to get it down to the six bags. Most people only had two or three bags. I don't know how they did it.
Got home at midnight after my brother and his wife picked me up at LAX. By the time I went to bed, I'd been up 27 hours, with only three hours of sleep the night before. Talk about jet lag.
I woke up Monday in my house, in my bed. Weird. No phone, no car, no computer. I was without a way to communicate, and that was double weird.
A friend came over with sunflowers; "I just couldn't wait!" and gave me one of the best hugs ever. It was a good start.
Mom drove me around all day, got my phone, picked up my computer, hooked up my internet and... PICKED UP CHARLIE. That was the best. God, I missed that little dog. He was cautious at first, and then jumped up on me like, "Where the heck have you been?" Auntie K. and Uncle T. took the best care of him while I was gone. Good people. The best. I don't know how to thank them properly. A gift certificate to a nice restaurant is what I'm thinking... but is it enough?
Yesterday I got the car rented (so I can drive around and look at cars to... eek... buy), went to lunch with sunflower friend, and shopped at Trader Joe's. I've been dreaming of the hand-tossed tortillas and the Gnocchi Gorgonzola for a year now. Got home, put the food in the fridge, hey, wait a minute. Why isn't the light on?
The electricity had been shut off. I'm home 36 hours and poof, no electricity. Guess the grace period has shortened. Call the company, and nope, won't be able to get it turned on until today. "Anywhere between 8 am and 5 pm" I was told. Great.
Bought a 20-pound bag of ice, put it in the fridge and hoped for the best.
Today, ran a bunch of errands, because well, with no power, there's no computer. And, lucky me, my sim card somehow got erased, and I've lost all the phone numbers of everyone who was in my address book, so I can't call anyone either. Argh.
Got home around 12:30, and there is the Edison truck. I get out and holler, "did everything go okay?"
No answer. I start walking toward the truck and it starts to leave. I wave my hands, "Wait! please wait!" and start running down the driveway after it...
As I watched from the end of my driveway, he drove away down the street. As expected, he checked the wrong meter, so I still had no electricity. Joy.
After two more calls, I finally got hooked up this evening. Of course, hanging around the house alone is not what I wanted to do this afternoon, but at least I have power.
I've not had time to think about what it's like to be home.
Ask me tomorrow.
Love,
Rebekah
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
On Packing Up and Moving Out
- I have too much stuff.
- A car would really help right now.
- A beer would taste really good right now.
- I don't remember it being this difficult last year.
- Does one really need all these things?
- Wouldn't it be easier to just buy all this stuff when I get back home?
- With four days to go, is it a silly idea to buy eggs?
- There is a lot of leftover taco seasoning here (my mom sent me 13 packages).
- What am I forgetting?
- Who can I give my extra airmail stamps to?
- I sure buy a lot of post cards.
- My ankle hurts.
- How am I going to pack my mugs so they won't break?
- Where is my friend Mo to help me with all of this (she's really good at it, just 5000 miles away)?
- Shouldn't I get off the computer and get back to work?
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Pay Attention
You know, after I wrote the last post on Sunday, I went out to run some errands. Errands on a Sunday take a bit of time. See, the buses run much less often, so it has to be factored into the trip. Stores also close early (around 4 pm), if they open at all, so the few hours of shopping time are completely packed with people.
Anyway, caught the W8 into Enfield Town, bought some sudafed and two boxes of Kleenex for my head cold (which is still lingering on) and some Ibuprofen for my headache. Got some sweets for my students for the last two days, spoiled myself with some scones, clotted cream and strawberry jam from Marks & Spencers, and started making my way back to the bus stop. The plan was to go home and mark papers for the rest of the afternoon and evening. Because here you see, in England, Year 10 students (would be 9th grade back home) have something called coursework. This coursework is required. They can't skip it and take a bad mark. They complete six pieces of this during the school year, or one piece of writing every six weeks. Or they are supposed to.
They don't. I got the first three pieces from most of them, and then they just turned off. It's been a major fight to get the rest of their work in before I leave. Of course, lots and lots of papers came in the week before school let out. How I was supposed to mark all of them was beyond me. I was feeling horribly guilty because I knew I wouldn't get it all done. I would have put a very good dent into it on Sunday, however...
I fell down. Running for the bus, which was already at the bus stop, I did a spectacular drop. I tripped on the pavement/sidewalk, and went over. My right ankle (which I've messed up twice before in the last 15 years) rolled under in a way that ankles are not supposed to bend. After two very loud shouts of a bad word, two people came over to see if I was alright. I was sure I broke my ankle, but you know... embarrassment? "No no... I'm okay... could you just help me up?"
Limped over to the bus stop, where of course the bus had left just a minute before, and sat down. I leaned over to put my bags on the ground, and then I was on the ground. Yep. Fainted. So charming when out alone in public. No one was at the bus stop, so no one helped this time. Those who saw me probably thought I was on drugs.
Got the next bus, limped back home, put my foot up with a bag of frozen raspberries, and thought, "Hmm... that really, REALLY hurts. I should probably go to A & E (stands for "Accident and Emergency") and get it checked out. Because you know, if I didn't go, the next morning my foot would be swollen up like a balloon. So I called a friend for advice, called a cab, and went to the hospital.
Three hours and an x-ray later, I did not have a broken bone. Possibly a torn tendon (what I did last time), a compression sock, and that's about it. Could I go to work? Well, it might be very painful tomorrow morning. Yes, but it's the last two days, can I go to work? You are a teacher right? You stand all day and when you sit it's with your feet on the floor under your desk? It could really swell up. Yes Doctor, but will I injure myself more if I go in? No... I don't think so.
See, I'm kind of used to doctors telling me yes or no for stuff like this. You know, or "light duty only" or something like that. It was really hard to get a straight answer out of him.
Anyway, I hobbled out to the bus stop, got the bus home again, and put my foot up with some more frozen food.
And I didn't get any marking done at all. Major guilt, especially when the teacher taking over my class made it clear he did not want any of the papers from this year left over for him for next year. Gah.
But then, I went to school yesterday to do more work. I know, school is out, but still, wanted to leave things as tip top as possible. I realized, alone in the department on the first day of vacation, at 3:30, that most teachers have the same problem as I do, but they have the same students for two years (year 10 and 11). They've gotten papers late, but they can mark them over the summer, or even the beginning of next year. I can't, because I'm leaving. I still feel guilty, but not as totally horrible as I did a couple of days ago. It's been quite a ride, that's for sure.
And now, gimpy and with a sinus infection, I'm leaving for Dublin this afternoon. Why oh why did I leave my Netty pot at home?
Anyway, caught the W8 into Enfield Town, bought some sudafed and two boxes of Kleenex for my head cold (which is still lingering on) and some Ibuprofen for my headache. Got some sweets for my students for the last two days, spoiled myself with some scones, clotted cream and strawberry jam from Marks & Spencers, and started making my way back to the bus stop. The plan was to go home and mark papers for the rest of the afternoon and evening. Because here you see, in England, Year 10 students (would be 9th grade back home) have something called coursework. This coursework is required. They can't skip it and take a bad mark. They complete six pieces of this during the school year, or one piece of writing every six weeks. Or they are supposed to.
They don't. I got the first three pieces from most of them, and then they just turned off. It's been a major fight to get the rest of their work in before I leave. Of course, lots and lots of papers came in the week before school let out. How I was supposed to mark all of them was beyond me. I was feeling horribly guilty because I knew I wouldn't get it all done. I would have put a very good dent into it on Sunday, however...
I fell down. Running for the bus, which was already at the bus stop, I did a spectacular drop. I tripped on the pavement/sidewalk, and went over. My right ankle (which I've messed up twice before in the last 15 years) rolled under in a way that ankles are not supposed to bend. After two very loud shouts of a bad word, two people came over to see if I was alright. I was sure I broke my ankle, but you know... embarrassment? "No no... I'm okay... could you just help me up?"
Limped over to the bus stop, where of course the bus had left just a minute before, and sat down. I leaned over to put my bags on the ground, and then I was on the ground. Yep. Fainted. So charming when out alone in public. No one was at the bus stop, so no one helped this time. Those who saw me probably thought I was on drugs.
Got the next bus, limped back home, put my foot up with a bag of frozen raspberries, and thought, "Hmm... that really, REALLY hurts. I should probably go to A & E (stands for "Accident and Emergency") and get it checked out. Because you know, if I didn't go, the next morning my foot would be swollen up like a balloon. So I called a friend for advice, called a cab, and went to the hospital.
Three hours and an x-ray later, I did not have a broken bone. Possibly a torn tendon (what I did last time), a compression sock, and that's about it. Could I go to work? Well, it might be very painful tomorrow morning. Yes, but it's the last two days, can I go to work? You are a teacher right? You stand all day and when you sit it's with your feet on the floor under your desk? It could really swell up. Yes Doctor, but will I injure myself more if I go in? No... I don't think so.
See, I'm kind of used to doctors telling me yes or no for stuff like this. You know, or "light duty only" or something like that. It was really hard to get a straight answer out of him.
Anyway, I hobbled out to the bus stop, got the bus home again, and put my foot up with some more frozen food.
And I didn't get any marking done at all. Major guilt, especially when the teacher taking over my class made it clear he did not want any of the papers from this year left over for him for next year. Gah.
But then, I went to school yesterday to do more work. I know, school is out, but still, wanted to leave things as tip top as possible. I realized, alone in the department on the first day of vacation, at 3:30, that most teachers have the same problem as I do, but they have the same students for two years (year 10 and 11). They've gotten papers late, but they can mark them over the summer, or even the beginning of next year. I can't, because I'm leaving. I still feel guilty, but not as totally horrible as I did a couple of days ago. It's been quite a ride, that's for sure.
And now, gimpy and with a sinus infection, I'm leaving for Dublin this afternoon. Why oh why did I leave my Netty pot at home?
Sunday, July 18, 2010
I hate drama
Not that there is any in my life, but wow. Everyone (including me) has their own idea of how things should be done.
People that know me, know that the "Well, if it was me..." argument just drives me up the wall.
You aren't me.
It's an odd time right now for me. The past year has gone so quickly, and I'm only realizing now how very diffferent my life has been for 11 months. Actually 11 months to the day I left for London.
Yes, the house and school and my lifestyle has been different, but I've been different on the inside too. I've been able to be selfish. Not worry about anyone else's wants, needs or desires. I do what I want, when I want, and how I want. How easy it would be to be absolutely set in my ways.
Last year at this time, I was so excited about my exchange; what would it be like? Would I make friends? Would I do a good job? What would I learn? What would I see? Where would I travel?
Now, it's back home. I miss my family, my friends, my Charlie-boy... I'm ready to be with them. I'm ready for my life to be easier too; from washing my clothes to taking a shower to getting to work. Work itself is easier. So much easier. Not just because I'm used to it, but because I'm required to do less than British teachers. I've been astonished at the amount of work expected of teachers here. More work with more student contacts, more lessons/classes to plan, and much less planning time. Yikes.
However.
Every time I want to see a show, or go to a 600-year old church or see a world-class museum (for free no less!), I hope on the train or the subway, and I'm there. I've not taken it for granted, but I've gotten used to it. Santa Barbara is beautiful, and I love it; I don't want to live anywhere else right now, but... it's not a big city. It doesn't have an endless amount of things to do and see. I love the beach. Have missed it terribly at times here, but exciting it's not.
Maybe that's it. My life, for better or worse, has certainly not been boring this year. At school I've heard people say that "The only people who get bored are boring themselves." It sounds like something my friend Torn would say. There's also the Chinese curse about "May you live in interesting times."
It's a fine balance between interesting and difficult. No, my life has not been difficult here, but definitely challenging at times. As I'm getting ready to go now though, I'm a little nervous. Have I changed at all? Will this just become a memory that a few people hear me talk about once in a while? Will I bore people with my stories? Will I be like that character on Friends who comes back from England talking about her mobile phone and her flat with a horrid English accent?
Okay, don't worry about that. Even after a year, I can't mimic a British accent to save my life.
What have I learned from this year? What will I take back with me?
I can't answer that yet.
People that know me, know that the "Well, if it was me..." argument just drives me up the wall.
You aren't me.
It's an odd time right now for me. The past year has gone so quickly, and I'm only realizing now how very diffferent my life has been for 11 months. Actually 11 months to the day I left for London.
Yes, the house and school and my lifestyle has been different, but I've been different on the inside too. I've been able to be selfish. Not worry about anyone else's wants, needs or desires. I do what I want, when I want, and how I want. How easy it would be to be absolutely set in my ways.
Last year at this time, I was so excited about my exchange; what would it be like? Would I make friends? Would I do a good job? What would I learn? What would I see? Where would I travel?
Now, it's back home. I miss my family, my friends, my Charlie-boy... I'm ready to be with them. I'm ready for my life to be easier too; from washing my clothes to taking a shower to getting to work. Work itself is easier. So much easier. Not just because I'm used to it, but because I'm required to do less than British teachers. I've been astonished at the amount of work expected of teachers here. More work with more student contacts, more lessons/classes to plan, and much less planning time. Yikes.
However.
Every time I want to see a show, or go to a 600-year old church or see a world-class museum (for free no less!), I hope on the train or the subway, and I'm there. I've not taken it for granted, but I've gotten used to it. Santa Barbara is beautiful, and I love it; I don't want to live anywhere else right now, but... it's not a big city. It doesn't have an endless amount of things to do and see. I love the beach. Have missed it terribly at times here, but exciting it's not.
Maybe that's it. My life, for better or worse, has certainly not been boring this year. At school I've heard people say that "The only people who get bored are boring themselves." It sounds like something my friend Torn would say. There's also the Chinese curse about "May you live in interesting times."
It's a fine balance between interesting and difficult. No, my life has not been difficult here, but definitely challenging at times. As I'm getting ready to go now though, I'm a little nervous. Have I changed at all? Will this just become a memory that a few people hear me talk about once in a while? Will I bore people with my stories? Will I be like that character on Friends who comes back from England talking about her mobile phone and her flat with a horrid English accent?
Okay, don't worry about that. Even after a year, I can't mimic a British accent to save my life.
What have I learned from this year? What will I take back with me?
I can't answer that yet.
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Who pulled the rug out?
God.
Three days left of school. Two more days and I'm off to Dublin. Four days and I'm back here. Six more days until I'm back in California. Nine more days to Las Vegas. And then three days and I'm back to work.
Shortest summer ever.
With the most to do.
Argh.
Three days left of school. Two more days and I'm off to Dublin. Four days and I'm back here. Six more days until I'm back in California. Nine more days to Las Vegas. And then three days and I'm back to work.
Shortest summer ever.
With the most to do.
Argh.
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