Winter

Buzzard Lake freezing over

I'm walking on water. I don't feel as accomplished as I thought I would. More tarnish developed as each complaint formed. The glory is yet to come.
I quickly learned that I have to realize who I am--- no, no, I did not say finding myself.

Anyway, what I meant is that I have to believe things about myself that I ritually deny. Writing essays for grad school admissions knocked on the barricaded door of my confidence. And somehow the words sneaked past the guards to show what I have to offer.
Living life as a child and free spirit, can never broach that door; there is only approach and retreat.

Lake Coeur D'Alene cruise to see the holiday lights

I guess it's been suspected that I haven't biked in a long time, mostly because I'm still scared of roads. And now this weekend, the ice and snow are coming to put an end to all things requiring balance outdoors. I had my first two falls this morning after dropping the boys off for school. I went down the sloped driveway to bring in the trash, but never made it. I was wearing flip flops and on my second fall I actually slid down the driveway towards the street. That was a new experience - always gotta have those in my life.
I started swimming again. It's one of those activities that draws me into a world of peace and reflection, even as I struggle for breath before reaching 200 meters. I'm excited because it pulls me out of my slumps. And I reached a milestone, one mile mark!!
I'm hoping to find snow sports soon... after our less than blizzard storm approaches in a few hours.

. my first snowman ever does not have a face

Thanksgiving [not turkey day]

Thanksgiving was fun!! Maybe amazing even, considering I was in a new place with no family but new relationships to substitute. I'm always in for meeting new people and having purposeful friendships but it's a hard thing to accomplish, especially the former part while being a nanny. Anyway, I went out of town, north of Spokane to the mountains and woods and lakes and it was my piece of peace. I spent the day with a family and some international students. We did some mild hiking which was more about getting out of the house than getting a good view. Honestly it was damp, the trees were bare, and the fog frozen across the horizon. I did manage to cross my first frozen lake, but it looked more like a pond.

The snow came after Thanksgiving day. Going walking alone out there was probably just short of heaven. I've hardly been in snowy places, particularly apart from cities and suburban sprawls. The snow really does silence everything, and things are more serene. Somehow that quiet feeling of solitude didn't leave me feeling lost or fearful, but perfectly placed. Okay, so now I'm rambling, still inarticulately arguing my point. I wish I had the most amazing camera to express where words cannot, but I left my camera at home. As of late, part of the reason I gallivant without my camera is because I believe in the beauty of nature as it exists, not as my amateur digital camera presents it. Somehow it ruins the whole memory for me.

"For his unfailing love towards those who fear him is as great as the height of the heavens above the earth." Psalm 103:11

That is something I read today that I particularly enjoyed in my current state of mind and emotion. It's nice all of a sudden have a burst of joy, love, comfort, basically a bunch of mushiness, just come up and out towards you when you hardly expect it.


Back up plans in life:
move to Canada
teach ESL in Asia

my next step is into ... .. ..... ..

I'm already walking out onto the water for my future now. I just hope I don't sink. I'm applying to graduate schools for Fall '09 in Speech-Language Pathology.

I reference a biblical story I love like Peter Pan loves Neverland. And coincidentally (or not) the disciple who climbs out of the boat to walk to Jesus across the water is also named Peter. Whether you believe this story literally, figuratively, or even as a folk tale, the message of doing something you can't believe you can do is pertinent to all opinions. It wouldn't matter to me if I were on that boat and everyone else knew that I could walk on water. What would matter, and this is the only thing, is that I believed, even in the slightest, that I could do it. Faith is allowing yourself to have the tiniest speck of hope that what you can't see, understand, or imagine, could be real, could happen.

This yacht illustrates the size of my faith that my purpose in life will work out, and with my efforts I will steer in the direction of my skills and desires. However, my faith in knowing exactly where I should gravitate, each time I need to reposition myself, is not visible in this photo by the naked eye. My faith would actually be the size of an oxygen molecule in the air. And that's on a good day. Most days my faith is like the needle in the haystack, except I'm confident that there is no needle after all.

Those are the thoughts that surface now. I can hardly shake the pictures of rejection letters pouring in next Spring after admissions departments review scores of application packets.
I cannot say that I don't mean to sound pessimistic for I am purposely sitting here sharing my fears in just simply applying to graduate school. Let's save all the worries of relocation, loans, work, etc. for beyond the horizon, somewhere over the rainbow. But even with the fears I'm going to go for it anyway. I'm going to apply for the things I want the most. Cue inspirational symphony music with bold kettle drums pounding and staccato trumpets forging the way.

So if you must take pity on me and want to encourage me, please pray for me. I've talked about these things with professors, family, friends, and nothing has dashed the intrusive, looming doubts. I've had to defend my jobs and education choices as though I was incapable of plotting a course for my life. All of those conversations have in some way benefited me and I appreciate them, but all I need now is God's reassurance that I will not be left with nothing. That there will be a purpose connecting all the dots of my studies and jobs together. That failure or success does not define me, they are only things that happen and pass.

Fotos

picnic!

toting calvin

fall leaves

evergreens

mountains

playing rock band at a halloween party with bonnie & clyde, from the dead

Soapbox On A Bike

Maybe this should be my cycling blog. I hardly have more stories to tell than those.
My workdays go like this: I wake up at 5:45am. I get the boys ready for school and walk them to the bus stop, protecting the youngest from wild soccer ball kicks and wheelies in the stroller, attempted by his older brothers, usually the oldest. I go for exceptionally long walks with the all-terrain stroller which is a necessity in order to avoid boring sidewalks. I do laundry and I try to carry as many toys as possible anytime I cross the living room or climb the stairs. The foyer overlook is a great ramp for toy car, as well as an easy goal for footballs and soccer balls. I make return trips to the bus stop to pick up both of the boys separately, kindergarten is on a half-day schedule. I host jam out parties when I want everyone to be together. I save the kittens from stranglings, tail sprains, and dizzy circles. I am a dictator when there is homework or whining. Did I mention the stinky diapers?
Occasionally, I meet up with friends in the evenings, or if not, then I ride my bike or go for a walk. I read books a lot. I try to go to the library every week. I love that, too. Sometimes I talk on the phone with friends "back home." I eat home-cooked meals. I go to bed at 10:00pm. I like this lifestyle, abruptly changed from last year in good ole' college town U.S.A., Athens.
My weekends are completely different. Sometimes I am with the family but most times, not. I usually get out of the house and go somewhere, even if it's solo. I like to have a break from the work environment even if I'm not working.


Cycle Blog Begin: I've been riding Fish Trail again. I've graduated to figuring out how to change gears. I've conquered one of the hills on the return ride home. I had my first tumble.
Those are my biking accomplishments. Yes, I feel humbled and embarrassed to publish them on my blog, but my tumble makes me feel like I'm on the road to veteran-hood. I tried to hop a curb, from an acute (less than 90 degrees, go GRE) angle. It was unsuccessful, but as far as I knew there were no observers of the incident. Yes! And the gear change problem is partially not my fault. The back one is temperamental and only shifts to a higher gear once per ride.
But in great news, Julie will retrieve her newer bike from the lake house soon... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...
[in blogging, at least my blogging, ellipses indicate a drum roll]

it has SHOCKS!!! Oh, how spoiled will I be to ride on graded gravel with something to protect my bum. This will surely make me an undeserving, pampered, beginner cyclist, especially after getting gloves to keep feeling in my fingers when I ride with the temperature hovering at 55. But to go over the top in indulgences I'd need to acquire a cycle-odometer to inform me of the distance I am covering. I really don't even know how long this trail is. By my Google Map guesstimate, I've probably ridden 7 miles in one direction on the trail, making a round trip of possibly 16 miles, starting point- the house.

I discovered Queen Lucus Lake which sits off of the trail to the east, at the bottom of a slope. However, this post is more like a requiem of the lake and it's splendor. I was unknowingly trespassing, as that section of the trail is indefinitely, temporarily close. So now that I found a gorgeous lake, now that I made it to within 2 miles of my final destination, well bolt that door, pull the gates, no more.
But alas, I'll share with you the beauty and excitement of it all. Its shade of blue reflected the sky and it changed to marshlands on its ends, with a snake-like stream trailing off on one of them. I saw herons all over the place. Usually when I see these anorexic swan lookalikes, it's only one or maybe two, but here I counted about five, some getting feisty and talking loudly, chasing others from their personal space. By the way, I like herons. I know they take no offense to that description. Some things have beauty due to their aesthetic shortcomings. And herons are especially pleasing to me because you usually have to sit and wait for them. So anyway, I also heard what I'll call "chirping". I knew it wasn't the ducks or the herons so I scanned until I saw dark bodies bobbing above and below the water. Otters!!! Yes, my first sighting of the playful cuties outside an aquarium.
Now the other side of the trail were impressive, tall rock walls steeply climbing to a top I could not see. But on an edge was a shack flying a rebel flag. Freaks me out!!! I realize that you may wonder why is this shocking, I am from the Deep South. Well, simply because I was naive in thinking that outside of my home region, such attitudes were mostly absent. By the way, that's far from the truth, I've since learned. I must now live in one of the whitest cities in America. No joke about that either, I think someone may have told me this, actually. The "Caucasian" population hovers around 97%. Goodbye, diversity. My hometown might have been closer to the 35%. I simply feel uneasy around people with strong, hateful notions of the world because I view it as a presence of evil. It's okay if you laughed just then. I realize also that I'm pretty idealistic sometimes. I mean my only pet peeve is mean people, after all.

What is caucasian anyway, other than the color of my skin? I could have so many other racial mixes and still come out caucasian, so what does that mean? Please, refrain from responding with denotation. And if a news anchor tried to be politically correct, substituting African-American for black, when talking about a Caribbean-American, would that be ignorant? Okay, I apologize for turning this post into a soapbox, yet I obviously decided not to delete it. It stays because though I feel racial statistics only reinforce racism, I use them, too. What detriment.



Will post pictures soon!!

AUTUMN!!!!!

perspectives

on illegal dumping/littering
Cooper, age 6 1/2
One time we found a bunch of cans in our green trailer when we lived at the apartments because somebody had a party. Everybody threw their cans and bottles in there. If I was an adult right now and I went to a party, I would carry my cans in my pockets home with me and then I would throw them away.

on kidnapping
Carter, age 5, in response to me pretending that I didn't know where he went by saying that i thought somebody took him, when he ran outside to meet his dad coming home.
I didn't have my socks on. Nobody would take me without my socks.


I've temporarily suspended my cycling expeditions due to the fact that I do not know how to downshift the gears. Julie, the mom, is letting me borrow an old bike while I'm here. She hardly used it so she doesn't know the gears either, but hopefully her husband Matt does so I might be able to get the problem fixed without visiting a repair shop in case the gears are "stuck". And, needless to say with all of the inclines around here, the hardest gear is an impossible feat for my quads.
I can't wait anyway to ride again. There is a trail near the house that goes 30 miles to a lake in another town. While I would love to believe I could build up to this, 60 miles round-trip in one day is a little extreme for me, not to mention that spending the night would involve sleeping out in 40 degree weather. But I love the trail even if I can't make it to the water because it goes through rural areas past the outer limits of Spokane. The hills turn are fitted with farm houses and fields with grazing llamas and sheep. I love it all! One of the bragging points of Spokane is its accessibility to the outdoors, which is so convenient! It is mostly surrounded by rural areas for hiking, kayaking, climbing, biking, skiing, etc. And speaking of I went for a short, easy hike this weekend past the north end of town. The trail went parallel to the Little Spokane River so we saw some kayaks and canoes, plus a coyote and rafter of turkeys. I went with a new friend who is way into outdoor activities so I'm excited to have someone to share that with, especially trying new things like snowshoeing, I hope!!
Also not far is Coeur D'Alene, Idaho. The town is about 35 miles West. I went swimming in the lake a few weeks ago for a birthday gathering. It was so clear and cold like a spring because of the snow feed from the mountains. Who knew anything was in Idaho besides potatoes? ehem, everyone should know. Afterall, the state's license plate reads Scenic Idaho.


I've found my home church it's called Vintage Faith Community -click the name to go to their site. I didn't entirely choose this church on my own. Before attending any churches, I was specific with God in asking him to confirm which I should join, and of course my prayer was answered. So... I like that this place is like a house church of sorts. One of their priorities is to branch into other communities by breaking-off and moving to different neighborhoods throughout Spokane. Also cool is the fact that I am challenged by the teaching because it's more of a dialogue and sometimes even small group discussion than a lecture or sermon that is "preached".

Something I've learned regarding my last entry is that the absence of stop signs and yield signs is not an attempt by the DOT to save on metal and printing costs. This is simply "uncontrolled traffic". See, there are arterial roadsigns that route drivers to roads with "controlled traffic", meaning there are traffic lights, signs, etc. And in turn meaning you would never approach an intersection lacking traffic controll with parked cars lining the streets, timidly inching across in hopes that you don't mistake a parked car for one in motion. So if you're the type to make incomplete, rolling stops at stop signs, well this is the solution: do not take the Arterials in Spokane, maybe even the whole state of Washington, I don't know yet.

I moved to Washington. Oh, D.C.? No, Washington State. Oh, you're going to school?

I like Spokane!!

LIKES:

• Small Town vibe
• super easy access to Nature
  
• Arts on the Streets
  
• Cooler weather with less humidity
• Friendly people
• Mountain views
• Basalt rock
• Fir trees
• finch Arboretum 1 mile from the house
  

Last weekend my family went to Seattle to visit grandparents, and I chose to stay behind to get my bearings around the city. I've been here a little over a week so I didn't have all the time to explore, but I also was being a homebody, scared to go out, but more than that, not having much desire to. By grace, I was pulled into the realization that I needed to get out or I'd likely fall into a slump of self pity in the near future.

So I did loads of driving around town and discovered two things about traffic here. First, if you come to an intersection void of signs and traffic signals that means everyone yields. Apparently the DOT is saving money on not posting such indicative signs or even creating roundabouts. Second, there are no highways that weave in and around the city. Of course there is the interstate which runs East-West, but only through the South end. So imagine you want to travel North-South a mere 7 miles. Well that's a great passage covering a series of traffic lights for about 50 blocks. sheesh!

On a more exciting note, I've been so amazed at the fact that any person can move thousands of miles away and still find the body of Christ. Seriously, the body feels like home and helped welcome me in the culture here. Let me distinguish that I'm not relating this sense to individual people, a whole congregation, worship sets, or even pastors' messages. I experienced communion, in a spiritual sense, with others who are part of the same body that I left nearly 2500 miles back. Anyway, I don't even know that either of the two churches I visited will become my home church. Though I did like and relate to both of the churches, I am forcing myself to visit others to provide options and comparisons, since I am entirely new to the area. And I know this is good for me because I know myself to make hasty decisions out of impatience.



My family and I are a good fit. I really enjoy hanging out with 3 boys. It's necessary that I act silly with them, which is a good exercise in life for anyone. I learn from their knowledge on innocence that springs up in refreshing ways, constantly and unexpectedly. I like to be around people that think differently than me and while some people insist that path is traveling the globe, I've found that kids offer that when we let their imaginations turn gears. They do wear me out and I am tired before the end of most days. But this is a job, it takes physical and mental energy whereas I've found most jobs take one or the other, not both. And I enjoy taking care of people; I've learned that I like to serve, not out of habit or obligation but from my personality. And I enjoy the spiritual side of all that goes with servanthood, too.

SIGNS
that I am where I should be

[the reason I don't say coincidences is because it has a nonchalant connotation in my mind and these are undeniably, unquestionably, and collectively, one enormous gift discovered first week. and there are other things that have touched my heart and delighted me but they could be disputed, so here are the definitive.]

• top movie (benny & joon) that i watched and discussed a lot in the week prior to my move was filmed here
• tree of obsession for 7 years (redwood) is less than a mile from my house in a park
• healing ministry prayer room downtown. significance of this is that my previous job at a campus ministry was beginning to experience healing through god.
• friend back home randomly found a thrift shop t-shirt that said "spokane a great place"

Toto, we're home!

I'm not in Georgia anymore!


...And now metro DC, NoVa, or simply, Springfield, Virginia feels like home: suburbia USA complete with white picket fence and air quality forecasts.


I'm waiting.. did you ask yet.., why am I back with my parents'.. after graduating college, after working on my own?! I'm a bum and maybe I should be a professional or at least a wife or wait, do I have an engagement ring... Okay, so I am glad that I left Georgia. I will always love my hometown, but not for it's twist on how to live life as a Southern woman... hm, or is that the entire US? I'm a dreamer and an idealist. Which is why I chose to have these weeks with my parents--- living with them while finally appreciating them! Now that's new.. last time we lived together, valuing parents was at the bottom of my to-do list.

This transition has revealed things about myself I didn't know I had knowledge of or even possessed. I have learned so much about Jesus' relationships with those he ministered to while traveling, leading me to consider finding my home in God. It's hardly easy most days, but it's a reality I refuse to drop. Realizing that all of life is comprised of relationships with other people, even if you're the biggest hermit, you still probably have some sort of job, some minimal interaction with people. So I've begun to realize the opportunities here... make every relationship have a purpose, love it and give yourself till it ends or moves away from you. When you seek other people, desiring to share compassion, it's a new world. That's what I've learned. And even though I'm trying to sound like I can separate myself from all of the emotion and security found in any new relationship, I do still miss so many faces, unmatchable uplifting hugs and voices flowing with loving words. I just know a few more things now than I used to about not depending on people to define me.


Alright, those are my thoughts, but what I've been doing is another story. I'm currently painting the interior at my parents' home. I have one of those jobs so monotonous, you have time to think about life, it's actually quite cool. Anyway, that's my part-time "job" combined with amateur chef. I enjoy cooking so much, it's a new love in my life and it's even more wonderful to have people to do it for!! I've also caught up with a few friends in the area, finding peace in the company of people my own age. Today actually, I went into the city to tour the monuments, haha. It was fun but oh so exhausting and crowded. We're going to try and catch a sunrise next weekend from the steps of old, honest Abe.
We've done a teensy bit of travel...

Virginia Beach... away from the hotels and crowded boardwalk :)


SUBMARINE!!! passing through Chesapeake Bay Bridge-Tunnel

Mom & Dad at Old Cape Henry lighthouse

Really amazing volcano dessert in Atlantic City... chocolate goodness!

The countdown has begun: less than 3 weeks until I fly away to Washington--- the state, not the city a mere 15 miles north.

So adieu, for now. I'll post more once I begin my nanny duties out west!

Traveling in Scotland

I'm not even a full week back from my mission trip to Scotland at this point, so I wanted to write while things were still fresh in my memory. There's so much to say so I'm going to post throughout the week I hope for reader convenience and the sake of my own time!

This first post details our travels to the island, detailing the wonder of God's creation. Scotland is sometimes referred to as God's Country, and the Hebrides Islands, which includes the Isle of Lewis, are referred to as the gems sprinkled out as a finishing touch after all the other lands were formed. Trust me, it really seems that way.


So at the beginning, twelve of us, all from the UGA Wesley Foundation campus ministry left to go to the Isle of Lewis June 11th. We stayed in Paisley, just outside of Glasgow, the city we flew into, for two days to get over jet lag and reconvene as a group with our missionary, Lance. Third day in Scotland, we made the day-long trek to the Isle of Lewis. We took the scenic route through the Highlands, an unsettled, treeless range of green mountains. The common scene in these mountains is sheep and highland cows, pronounced 'hilan coos' by the locals. A moment is due to have a glimpse of these 'coos', for they are quite different than any I had ever seen, click here. The Highlands are indescribable and I took few photos because I would only be wasting my precious time, trading in my eyes' view for something my LCD screen could never capture. The Highlands are rocky, bare without any trees, revealing all the cuts and rolls of the land. I just can't explain the amazement of traveling through these mountains for hours, spotting waterfalls and looking at every turn in the road waiting for the next view to announce itself with such majesty. As some may know, the weather in Scotland (and the rest of the United Kingdom) is often dreary. However, during our drive, the sun peaked out for a moment, illuminating the fog that clung to the vibrant green of the mountain tops.

At one point, we stopped to take photographs of the landscape and walk around a wee bit. Being used to the openness of the country outdoors anyway, I decided to scope out a toilet since I had no idea when we'd reach a "formal" toilet. Well, as I previously mentioned there were no trees, creating a dilemma, exaggerated by the fact that this pullover was a tourist-attracting lookout full of people with wandering eyes!!! aaah!

Well finally, Kelly and I spot a huge patch of giant ferns, I mean they must've been about 4 1/2 feet tall (I swear those photos are not doing justice). They were even perfectly tucked into a sort of cliff to remove us from the "scenic view". I hope this isn't too much information, but I must share how amazing this toilet experience was.!! The ferns were very lush, full and soft, and the fragrance of the outdoors was so fresh, and the VIEW of the Highlands. Gosh, this was by far the best outdoor toilet ever. No maybe's about it... even topping indoor toilets!

So, onward we drove and a trip to Scotland would surely not be without a tour of a castle, and pictured about is Eilean Donan. Don't give me grief about the castle looking wimpy because the bridge had nothing to cover at low tide. Eilean Donan sits at a point on the shore where three lochs come together. It is still inhabited by the MacRae family, as Alex, our kilted our tour guide informed us, but only intermittently when they come to visit. While it was so cool to have a history lesson come to life, I couldn't help but find myself staring out the small slivered windows as I climbed stone stairways and explored new rooms. And I could hardly wait to finish the tour inside to view the land surrounding the castle, imagining the landscape without paved roads and the gift shop across the bridge.

We took a ferry from the Isle of Skye to Lewis. Waiting at the dock for us was a small rainbow that stretched beginning to end over the sea; it was complete! So we arrived in Tarbert at the Isle of Harris and searched for a chippy to taste our first fish and chips. The cook had begun closing but kindly took our thirteen orders anyway. We ate on a street wall, where to the left it overlooked the harbor and straight on were rocky hills with sheep and lambs. It was quite delicious, exceeding my expectations, though it surely would've lost all goodness without the dousing of vinegar. Lance also ordered a piece of fried Haggis, which I tried and for those of you familiar with the German meat spread, Braunschweiger, that's what it tasted like, minus the salt and the texture and color were completely different. I am not detailing the contents of Haggis here, for the sake of weak stomachs or the health conscientious, but a quick Google detour will answer all questions.

Next we set out on our two hour drive to the village of Barvas on the Isle of Lewis. As we drove further, the landscape changed. Closer to Tarbert, there were so many mountains in the distance and white, rocky hills that from a distance appeared to be sheep scattering the landscape. The further we traveled into Lewis the more houses appeared. However, do not be misled. The entire population of the Isle of Lewis is less than that of my Alma Mater, reaching somewhere just beyond the mid-20 thousands. We arrived at Barvas Church of Scotland probably around 11:00pm. We were so cold and tired, it took all our energy and courage to get out of the coach and greet our hosts. It was near 50 degrees Fahrenheit, and most of us were still adjusting to leaving 90-100 degree weather 6,000 miles back.

The landscape of Lewis is so inviting. One day we ventured to the Butt of Lewis or Port Niss. Here, frolicking is not such a good idea because green land suddenly disappears over ledges that drop 80 feet or more into the sea. I wish I were a poet, writer, even photographer to convey or display the beauty of this spot. The ocean was made up of shades of blues and greens. At a distance the ocean was navy, but the waters that flowed in and out of rock pools changed from an almost pastel green to a clear blue that you would see in someone's eyes. White foam floated near caves that beckoned. The sunlight got caught in those caves, twinkling in the darkness, just enough so you could see it but not enough to survey its insides, teasing me really. Our team gathered on some of the easily accessible rocks that overlooked a cove where waves crashed against the rock, worshiping and praying for our time here and the people we would meet.

We also went to a beach in the wee village of Garenin. It's actually a bay covered in rocks and boulders with very little sand. I immediately ran out to the shore, barefoot, trying to forget the pain of the rocks against my tender feet. I had to cross Scottish beach quicksand, my own term for seaweed washed up on the rocks by the tides. When I stepped on it, of course it was slippery, causing my footing to slip, but also sink! Giving up I walked parallel to the shore till it disappeared. AK, the youth leader at the church came along on our sight-seeing tour of the island. He is also a great photographer and took the above picure of me, Brooks and Natalie at the beach. Don't be deceived, this rock was huge and sort of tricky but fun to climb up on when wet.

We ate some of the seaweed that felt and looked like dark green vinyl with sheen. And here I am modeling my soon to be food as a boa. Me and Katherine took our first bite together. It's actually very crispy, more than spinach. It was salty (what else would you expect) and surprisingly not slimy. I also ate a winkle, a creature that looks similar to a miniature snail.

Young, my friend from Korea cracked the shell with a rock and then pulled out the winkle. If you've ever had oysters, it's nothing like that. Not slimy or too gooey to be chewed, sans grains of sand. The winkle was salty but the texture was more like chicken, and it was not as fishy-tasting as I expected. We also saw jellyfish with lilac-colored insides washed up on the shore. Yes, making me very cautious climbing over all the rocks. There were also some critters we termed Red Dingers. Really they looked likes dollops of strawberry jam shaped into perfect spheres that had managed to stick themselves on the sides of rocks. The dinger part of the name comes from the fact that they sting if you touch them. AK was trying to explain this concept to me but I couldn't tell if he was saying "sting" or "stink". So finally he acted out the "sting" by poking his arm with his finger saying "ding". Thus, the balls of red jam have an official American name.

We went to the black houses at the village of Arnol. They're now kept up for historical preservation , but maybe as early as two generations ago this was the house model. They are called black houses because the insides turn black due to the clingy and smothering smoke from the peat fires they burned in place of heat and electric/gas stoves. The walls are made of stone and the roof thatched with straw. And actually peat is frequently used for heating homes instead of electricity or gas. We went out to a moor and cut some peat, which looks like a combination of mud and clay. Basically you chop it into blocks and then stack them so that the wind will dry them out, making them brittle. Here's a pile of peat at one of the black houses.


We did some more touring in the towns on the mainland after our "mission" was through, but in my mind, none of it compared to the beauty of the Highlands or that of the Isle of Lewis. Loch Ness is another loch that whilst stirring mysticism encompassing stories, is no more beautiful than any of the other lochs. There's a picture of Anlee with the fictional (hmm?) Nessie. Edinburgh was really interesting, especially with its history of a castle dating back to B.C. times. But my heart in Scotland will forever be on the Isle of Lewis.