September 13, 2004, Part II

Hi, all,

Change of plans. I know I wrote that I was going to go to the half price ticket office for tonight's performance, but checked my school schedule and discovered that I have class from 6-9 tonight. Went down anyway just to get out. Leicester Square was already hopping at 10:15 am as the lucky stiffs who can attend the theater tonight were queuing up for tickets. We went on a walkabout through China Town and Leicester and Piccadilly Squares. Duck is very popular here judging by the number we saw hanging in restaurant windows. Yum, can't wait for some of that on a pancake with sauce and spring onion. We comparison shopped Dim Sum and found a reasonably priced place to try some time.

The big Swiss clock in P Square is always wrong. Please note the correct time on my watch in the bottom right corner. Not very good advertising for Swiss clockworks. Let's hope they do better when it comes to taking care of money.

We stopped in at a Kabob shop for lunch. Avoid the lamb. Trust me on this. The camera timer went off just as I discovered I should have done.

On the way back to the tube station we ran into these guys on scooters. Not sure what that was about, but they were friendly enough and waved when they spotted us. I think Kate got a better picture of them. If so, I'll forward it on later. All that and back at home by 12:30. More soon.

Love from London,

Robin

September 13, 2004

Hello from London,

Last I wrote, I was headed off to a festival. As it turns out, we were a day early but had fun anyway and went back Sunday. Kate and I arrived in Banglatown at noon when the festival was scheduled to kick off. Lucky us. By the time we left at 2:30, there were so many people in the area we couldn't control where we were walking! We did find some very good curry to eat. I thought I didn't like curry; I was wrong.

We were also back in that neighborhood today, because as we were wandering
around on Saturday we found a very inexpensive fry shop. Lunch today was fish and chips for 1/3 the price of the same in our neighborhood. Greasy, delicious.

Before we accidentally met up (odd to run into someone you know while out in a strange city), I spent some time this morning in Harrod's. It's the most extravagant department store in the world. The food halls are incredible. The display cases have butter carvings of Pavarotti among others. One hall is dedicated to meats, one to cheeses, one to chocolate and the like, one to fruits and veg...you get the idea. Weirdly though, when I went to the ladies “Luxury Toilet”; it wasn't so luxurious. Hmm. The perfume hall is huge. There are at least 75 black-clad perfume girls swarming around trying to spray everyone. I didn't make it through the entire store, but I will go back to check out the pet and toy departments at least. I'll probably wait until December though, because their decorations and displays are supposed to be fantastic.

Before we went for lunch, Kate and I went down to Christie's auction house to thumb through catalogs of upcoming sales and check out the preview rooms. Beautiful clocks and furniture were on display today. I will try to get back there for an auction while I'm here.

What all this doesn't tell you is that I must be walking 5-10 miles a day. We take the tube to the general area where we think we need to be, but Kate and I have a habit of getting lost. We have learned to embrace our lostness, though, because we have run across some really incredible sights. I am enclosing a couple of photos of one of our stumbling-down-an-alleyway shortcuts (don't worry, it is remarkably safe in this city, and we don't do this alone).

September 10, 2004

Hi all,

Last Sunday Kensington Garden was full of people enjoying the scorching 80º F temperatures, running, walking, reading, napping, sunbathing, playing sport. On one of the winding trails, I found the statue of Peter Pan; I've attached a photo of it to this email. It is difficult to see in the photo that the animals surrounding its base have been worn smooth by many little hands, but the bronze there is lighter, and the details have become a little fuzzy. It's lovely.

We've been in London for 10 days and it was only yesterday that we experienced our first rain. It was a light rain that lasted only half an hour. This weekend is supposed to be the first with fall-like weather, but so far this morning it is sunny and warm. It looks like a good day for the Curry Festival and River Race. I should have some good shots to send of those. Hope all is well where you are. Love from London, Robin

September 4, 2004

Okay. Saturday night. We closed down the local pub. That’s not saying much, because last call is 11pm. Met lots of interesting people from all over (the U.S., the U.K., Jordan, etc.). Loads of fun and good beer. Some went on to SoHo, but the more sensible of us are home. Unbelievably, the weather is still perfect. I continue to carry my umbrella everywhere, because I’m deluded enough to believe it is keeping the rain at bay. Everyone here is fretting over not bringing enough summer clothes. Attached is a picture of some of us at the Imperial College pub. The diehard soccer fans are not present as they are inside watching the game.

Love to you all,

Robin

September 2, 2004

Hi, all,

Wow, it’s great to feel human again. Seems like I overcame the jetlag pretty quickly by following the plan; stay up as long as possible on day 1 and sleep all night. When we checked in yesterday, I got really lucky. I’m one of very few with a private room, bath included. The only downside is my room is on the 5^th floor, and the elevator only goes to 4. Good thing I found a strong, young Brit to help with my bags yesterday. Although I packed as lightly as possible, 4 months away requires some stuff. I’ve already found the best buy in town: a cup of white, sweet coffee for 30p. Hurray for vending machines.

Walked miles yesterday trying to get my bearings. We are really close to a lot.

Haven’t made it to the park yet, but that’s on the agenda today between an arranged city tour complements of FIE this morning and an orientation session this afternoon. Later a group of us is going out to take advantage of our tube cards and soak up some atmosphere. Speaking of atmosphere, the weather has been gorgeous since we arrived. Yesterday was sunny and warm, and today promises much of the same. I’ll be carrying my umbrella, though; one never knows.

Okay. Time to get downstairs for that tour.

My love to you all.

Robin

London Diary Wordle

If you haven't tried this, you must. wordle

Old stuff

So. A few years ago I spent a semester in London. While I was there, I took photos almost every day and sent emails to a bunch of folks back home. Sort of a public diary. Blogging wasn't so accessible back then.

Anyway, people liked the emails. I liked writing them. I have trouble keeping up with files, what with all my computer mishaps. Some of the originals are lost to the ether. I'm going to post the ones I still have here, so I'll know where they are.

The titles will be the original dates of the emails.

Adventure

Hi, all,

So. Yesterday I went to see a patient who lives on a ranch. Her house is surrounded by a fenced yard, and there are various large fenced pens on the property. This week several of the sheep lambed in the bitter cold. Since the barn is rather far from the house, and the family were worried about coyotes taking the wee ones, several of the lambs spent the night in the enclosed porch of the house. The next morning some of the mamas refused their lambs, so they are having to be bottle fed, but the two moms in the photo are taking care of two each.

So cute, but that's not really why I'm writing. No. This is a warning. While I was taking pictures of the lambs, two emus who were outside of the yard near my car were stalking me. At first I thought, "Ah, bless. Aren't they cute."

Then I tried to leave.

The garden gate opens out. When I tried to leave the yard, one of the emus lay down in front of the gate effectively blocking my path. I started nudging it with the gate, and as it stood, it started stamping its HUGE feet. I flashed back to one of those nature programs and remembered that these birds can do some terrible damage with those feet. I must say I was a little scared. But then I remembered what a friend who raises emus--which he keeps behind a tall fence--once told us: if you make yourself appear bigger than the bird, it will back off. Easier said than done as this bird was at least six feet tall. Anyway, I had my visit bag with me, so I raised it over my head and nudged the gate open enough to slip through. This bird was not intimidated, and it swung its head around bringing its beak within six inches of my face. Yikes. I was afraid to turn my back on it, so I did a little backwards shuffle around my car to the driver's side door, the bird keeping pace. The door, of course, was locked, and as I fumbled for the keys--this required that I drop the bag and look small again--the bird leaned against the door. While I was opening it, he was stepping back to avoid being knocked down, but he kept his head above the top of the door (and above my head). Once I got in I felt pretty safe until he and I discovered at the same moment that I had left the window down about six inches.

Okay. I did manage to get the car started and the window up without losing an eye or anything, but I think the stress hormones may have caused some permanent damage.

So now the warning: I know it will be difficult, but stay away from emus.

Love from Spring Branch,

Robin

Happy Thanksgiving

Pied Beauty

Glory be to God for dappled things—

For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow;

For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim:

Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches' wings;

Landscape plotted and pieced—fold, fallow, and plough;

And all trades, their gear and tackle and trim.

All things counter, original, spare, strange;

Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?)

With swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim;

He fathers-forth whose beauty is past change:

Praise him.

Gerard Manley Hopkins (1844–89)

Diary of a Mad Chicken

Diary of a mad chicken:

Due to Dixie's continuing vertigo and impaired depth perception, you'll have to settle for my version of events.

Friday, September 26, 2008

Out of quarantine but still in protective custody. Dixie is allowed free time on the patio to interact with the other chickens with minimal supervision. That means we check on her occasionally to make sure she isn't being pecked to death. After about an hour, Chuck looks outside and screams, "(Expletive)! We have a chicken in the pool!"

Sure enough, Dixie is doing the chicken paddle in the middle of the pool. Chuck runs to the edge, squats down, and starts calling her. "Here Dixie...Follow the sound of my voice...That's right...Keep coming...Follow my voice." I'll be damned if she doesn't follow the sound of his voice all the way to the edge of the pool to be scooped out. She spends the next hour wrapped in a towel shivering and crying but comes out of it okay. No harm, no fowl death.

Tuesday, September 30, 2008

Continues with more heavily supervised visits with other chickens. These encounters require diligent human supervision with frequent intervention, as the others chickens will threaten and peck causing Dixie to squawk and spin around in circles.

I'm sitting out on Bette's bench drinking a beer and watching the chickens. I notice that three of the new teenagers are starting to get little buds on their legs. Crap. Three more roosters. Double crap, Dixie has the same buds.

Apparently Jim was onto something when he suggested the name Lowell.

Thursday, October 2. 2008

Dixie (hard to think of her/him as anything but now) is rapidly outgrowing and more rapidly beginning to resent the rabbit cage. At about 10:00 a.m., Vic decides that she (he, dammit) will be happier hanging out under the bench and tree while all the other chickens are in the back four. When she goes to check on Dixie about an hour later, he is gone. Gone without a trace. Not one feather left behind.

Being terribly upset, Vic calls Chuck who rushes home from work to try and figure out what happened to Dixie. They search the property. They try to get Small to track her (him, dammit). They stand very still and listen very carefully trying to hear a faint cheep. Nothing.

Chuck spends the afternoon composing a fairy tale to tell me when I get home. That happens at 4:00 and we have this exchange:

Chuck: Dixie went to lunch and fell in with a bad crowd and hasn't come back.
Me: What do you mean? Where is she?
Chuck: Well...We don't know?
Me: Did someone EAT her for lunch?
Chuck: Maybe.
Me: Who? Was it one of the dogs?
Chuck: No. We looked everywhere. There's no sign. No feathers or anything.
Me: (Looking out into the pasture at something distant and white) Did you look over there? Is that her?
Chuck: No. That's a rock.

So, I go into the house and Vic and I are talking about it when she looks up and sees Chuck walking across the pasture holding Dixie.

He found him calmly standing in the shade under a tree.

Holy crap.

Love from Spring Branch,

Robin

Snake follow-up

You know, now that I've had time to reflect, I feel a little sorry for Chuck. Think about it. If he lived with Sara Palin, he wouldn't have been bothered about something as trivial as a rattlesnake.

She probably would have killed it with her bare hands, skinned it with her teeth, and had it frying in a pan by the time he woke up.

News from Spring Branch

We are having way too much excitement around here, and it has
nothing to do with Ike.

I went out just before sunrise to open up the hen house and got
the shock of my life. As I opened the hatch/ramp, I heard the
awesome, heart-stopping sound of a rattlesnake. It was just light enough
to see that the snake was about 10 inches from my hand.

I froze. That's what one does.

Once I could see that the snake was moving away from me, I flew
(no, really, feet didn't touch the ground) back to the house, pounded
on the master bedroom door, and shouted, "Chuck, there's a rattlesnake
out here!"

Rude awakening.

By the time we got back out there with a hoe, the snake, all 5-6
feet of it, was moving slowly toward the back of the hen house. Chuck
tried to hit it with the hoe, but missed, and the snake picked up the
pace and secreted itself under some piles of fencing near the back.

He's in now putting on some boots, ready to go flush it out.
Yikes. It's funny how complacent we get. Eight years without a trace of
a venomous snake, and we forget how dangerous nature can be.

Time to get a guinea hen.

Hope you are all well and safe.

Love from Spring Branch,

Robin

Dixie Chick

Hi, all,

So. I was driving down a 6-lane divided highway in Seguin this afternoon when I saw something odd. A young white chicken walking in tight circles. I stopped the car (luckily, nobody was coming), put it in park, started the emergency flashers, jumped out, grabbed the chicken, put her in the passenger-side footwell, and took off.

Oh, she was scrawny, filthy, and obviously ill. Once I was able to pull into a gas station, I put her in a box and gave her some water with a syringe until she was able to drink out of a sawed-off water bottle. That's when I noticed what was playing on the radio. Jim, you'll like this: it was "Dixie Chicken" by Little Feat.

We're guessing she fell off a poultry truck and has a head injury, but she may have some sort of neurological disease, so she's in quarantine in the laundry room for now.

If you're feeling sympathetic, please send a nice thought Dixie's way.

Love from Spring Branch,

Robin

P.S. Ike is probably not going to have a big impact here, but we are fretting a little about the Houston relatives, so send them nice thoughts as well.

Finally

Well, much thanks to Dooce. Because I like to look at her Daily Style link, I found out about etsy.com. Now I have a place to market my stuff.

Whenever I'm asked why I don't sell some of the stuff I make, I always say it's because having to do it would take the fun out of it. That's not true. I just have not a marketing bone in my body. Thanks to etsy, I don't need one. They made it really easy for me. So, all those unfinished (soon-to-be-finished) projects are on their way out.

New pets

These are my new pets Carmen and Electra. Aren't they cute? When they are grown, they will have lots of feathers on their legs, and it will look like they're wearing ruffled pantaloons.

They are Cochin chickens, and you can find out more about the breed here.

I first saw Cochins at the Quadrangle at Ft. Sam Houston in San Antonio, Texas.

Hey, before you mock me, consider: I don't have to take them for walks, and someday they will give me delicious eggs. Okay, so I do take them for walks, and maybe that does deserve a little mocking, but the eggs will be great.

Not dragged kicking and screaming

Okay. I know this won't appeal to many, but there are still some of us out here who have a bit of a lag time and are easily amused. For example, I'm still not rich and hip enough to be Mac user. However, I am a recent convert to both Firefox and Gmail and am here to tell you I'm enjoying the hell out of discovering their comparative advantages. I'm writing them each a little love note.

Oh, Foxfire, I adore you. It thrills me to no end to be able to post links to my favorite Websites directly into a toolbar. When I was using another browser, it took a couple of extra clicks to get where I wanted to go. How did you know how impatient I've become? And the way you let me Stumble! around the Internet discovering interesting Websites excites my geeky blood.

You, Gmail, have made managing my ridiculously high volume of email so much easier. The way you automatically keep conversations bundled, allow me to tag messages and then retrieve all current and archived similarly tagged ones is so much more convenient than shuffling through folders. You keep my inbox visible even as I send replies, and it makes me feel grounded, like I'm not going to just spin off out into the ether.

Six-words might save the day

A couple of weeks ago, some friends and I attended a memorial service. It was a lovely service, and we could see that it had required a lot of the family and church. Just one week after a sudden and unanticipated death, they had put together a complicated program, planted a tree, scattered ashes, written letters, and, and, and...I don't know. How does one know what to do? How to do it?

An agnostic, a secular humanist and a Methodist are travelling across Texas in a Ford Explorer...

Not the start of a joke. We had a 5-hour drive home. Each of us was thinking about our late friend, those he left behind, our own and each other's inevitable deaths, the kind of services we would put together for each other. We talked about it. We questioned each other. Since the service is in honor of the dead but experienced by the living, what does one do? Say the agnostic dies first. Does someone stand up and talk about Jesus? And when the Methodist predeceases the agnostic?

We also asked one another to make song selections. Unfortunately, as soon as someone (I) mentioned I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For (equally inappropriate for a wedding reception), nobody could give a straight answer.

Anyway, being the take-charge person I am, I'm making plans. I've taken inspiration from Smith Magazine. When one of my people dies, I will send to everyone who knows him or her a request for a six word biography. Once I get them, I'll compile and publish a collection to distribute to family and friends.

Not having thought to do this in time for the recent loss, in memory of our friend we purchased a brick that will be used in the construction of our new public library. We came up with six words to describe our friend, but unfortunately, the brick inscription is limited to 60 characters and spaces, and since we wanted to include his name, dates and a quote from one of his favorite songs, there just wasn't enough room.

The others, gold

Just got news from an old friend. Chad Clark, a former colleague and fellow survivor of place I'll just call Bruceville, just had a brush with mortality. He was a Kelly Girl, and I was a nurse, and much to my shame, I got him addicted to computer solitaire. We haven't spoken in years and have emailed one another infrequently, but I think of him often and mean to touch base. Isn't that always the way.
I had a Chad flashback just last week when I heard an NPR interview with the genius Mike Doughty. Lo these many years ago, Chad introduced me to the music of Soul Coughing. They were so very far away from what almost anyone else in the world would expect this outwardly ridiculously white-bread girl to listen to, but Chad knew something about me that even I didn't. First (to me) came the CD Ruby Vroom, then a live show at the Black Cat in D.C. Transformative. Thereafter, I trusted him about all things musical, and he never failed to expand my world in all the tight places.
I don't know how it is with him these days, but back then Chad had a trunk full of CDs. None was in its original case. He had this habit of putting the most recently ejected CD into the case of the next one he wanted to hear. You could have backtracked and reconstructed his listening experience if you'd had hours and hours and an administrative assistant to take dictation.
Most endearingly, Chad laughed in all the right places when I told unabashedly exaggerated anecdotes about chance encounters in the elevator of our building.
Chad Clark, I miss seeing you every day, and I'm glad you're still on the planet.