tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-45522099259187673122024-03-05T18:55:44.122-08:00Across the PondAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05424058775352463857noreply@blogger.comBlogger31125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4552209925918767312.post-8433838057308346712015-11-06T02:55:00.002-08:002015-11-06T03:08:56.740-08:00The PhD: A Marathon, not a sprint....well until the last month or so.Only two months ago, three years to the day after I arrived in Manchester, I successfully defended my PhD thesis. One month after that, I submitted my final thesis and was awarded that magical prefix, "Doctor."<br />
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I do have to say, getting a PhD was the most stressful time in my life, but it opened my life to so many opportunities. I met loads of new people, experienced a new culture, traveled to beautiful places, and drank a whole lot of beer along the way. But it was really tough in other ways: I moved even further from my friends and family (seriously, trying to find times to chat with a 5-8 hour time difference is tough!), sold my horse, watched from afar as a friend battled breast cancer, lost my grandma and both grandpas, and ended a four and a half year relationship.<br />
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But something magic happened in the final push toward submitting my thesis. They say you never lose friends, just find out who your true friends are, and my gosh I have some incredible friends. I had loads of places to stay, dinners made and delivered so I could continue working, and countless tea and biscuit deliveries. Every time I got frustrated, I'd have a phone call or text from someone down the road or around the world, just when I needed it most. This support gave me the energy to keep calm and carry on. At 2 am on 11 August 2015 (okay...so 2 hours past my deadline), I submitted my thesis.<br />
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On 10 September 2015, the day I had been working towards and dreading finally arrived...it was time to defend the thesis. It was surreal sitting in the room with my water bottle (in case I needed to think long and hard about a question and felt awkward sitting in silence), waiting for my examiners to arrive. I was convinced there was a glaring error in my thesis and that I would fail my viva. Then, more magic happened. The viva, which I assumed would leave me scrambling to the bathroom in tears within five minutes, was actually a fun and fruitful scientific discussion of my work. The examiners and I had good fun discussing my results and making connections to past and future work, just like you do over a beer at a conference. Before I knew it, two and a half hours had passed and I was asked to leave the room. A short while later, I was called back in and congratulated on passing my viva with minor revisions.<br />
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A month of adding sentences here, reworking a figure there, and I had resubmitted my thesis. I'm now Doctor Kelsey Mulder.<br />
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I wanted to share this little tale because I couldn't have done my PhD without you, my dear friends. The cups of tea, text messages, phone calls, pictures of your pets (or just loaning me your pets!), and cards meant so much to me throughout the last three years, and especially in the past few months. You picked me up and helped me find the energy to finish. Words are failing me, but all I can say is thank you for your love and support, I owe my PhD to you.<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05424058775352463857noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4552209925918767312.post-3623721632214267232014-12-06T05:58:00.001-08:002014-12-06T05:58:28.437-08:00The anatomy of an academic paperBy: Kelsey Mulder (Impressive Institution) and other people I know (Other Impressive Institutions)<br />
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<b>Introduction</b><br />
What I study is extremely important. Everyone else who has attempted to study it so far has done so wrong (Enemy at Competing Institution, 2014) or has left out some pretty important stuff (Other People I Know and Like, 2014).<br />
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<b>Data and Methods</b><br />
I know a lot of acronyms. Like seriously. Count them all.<br />
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<b>Results</b><br />
You probably won't understand a lot of what I go on about here, and it's likely that you'll skip this part and look at the pretty pictures. I designed it this way. Move along.<br />
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<b>Figures</b><br />
They sure look good and straightforward now, but you should have seen versions 1--27.<br />
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<b>Conclusions</b><br />
Musings and irresponsible speculations. This will be cited in introductions to come.<br />
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<b>Acknowledgements</b><br />
I threw my toaster across the room when I got my reviews back, but everybody else thanks their reviewers, so I probably should too.<br />
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<b>References</b><br />
I probably skimmed most of these.<br />
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I really wish real academic journal articles took me as little time to write as this blog post!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05424058775352463857noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4552209925918767312.post-34140047218276170132014-09-19T09:03:00.002-07:002014-09-19T09:03:47.624-07:00On work/life balanceAcademia is one of those careers where your work is never done. There's always more to read, more to write, more figures to compile...the list goes on. On top of that, there seems to be this push for a 20-hour/7-day work schedule. At least that's been my experience. It's no surprise a lot of people in academia are talking about work-life balance.<br />
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Personally, I've struggled a lot with this balance over the past couple years. In fact, about a year ago after my first year viva, I promised to address this problem by working hard at work and playing hard at home. It's time I let you know how it's been going.<br />
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My first change was to adopt a 40-hour work week. Because I have a partner who does shift work and I have a flexible schedule, I've adopted his work week, which intermingles shifts from 7:30a--4:30p, 10:30a--6:30p, and 1:30p--10:30p. That way we see more of each other and we get talk about our days on our walks to and home from work.<br />
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My second change was to adopt a work-only-at-work policy and vow to never take work home with me.<br />
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My third change was to adopt the pomodoro technique...work for 25 minutes, break for 5 and so on.<br />
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Next came a big question...what do I do with my spare time?<br />
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Well, I decided along with this work change, I should adopt a lifestyle change...eat less of what I shouldn't, eat more of what I should, and start exercising regularly. Beside that, I decided to join the library and start reading what I want to read.<br />
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So how has it turned out?<br />
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Well at first, there was a bit of guilt about not working constantly, but I've found that now I work <b>smarter</b>. While at work, I get a lot more done. I am not fatigued by working 12 hour days, which means I can have 5 very productive work days in a row rather than having every other day be productive. On top of the work improvements, I've lost nearly 30 pounds, I'm happier, have more energy, get over sicknesses faster, and don't go to bed facing panic attacks.<br />
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So in short, I'm pleased with the changes I've made. No, I'm probably never going to be the best atmospheric scientist with the most publications and the most impressive resume, but as my mom the hospice chaplain kindly pointed out, there isn't a person yet who, on their deathbed, has commented that they wish they worked more in their life.<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05424058775352463857noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4552209925918767312.post-61141579087022978362014-07-01T00:41:00.001-07:002014-07-01T00:42:10.068-07:00You call that a conference?!?Again I find myself reflecting on how stinking lucky I am.<br />
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Seriously, who gets to go to an exotic Greek Island for a conference?<br />
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A few weeks ago I flew off to Crete, Greece to go talk about tornadoes (and maybe relax a bit on the beach). I won't bore you with the tornado stuff, but instead focus on my true love: food and drink! (Sorry, Richard!)<br />
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First of all, the structure of all the dinners included many bottles of local Cretan red and white wine (which were all fantastic!) dotting the tables, which were seemingly bottomless. I swear, we must have each had a bottle or two of wine every night, but magically never got drunk.<br />
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Dish after dish after dish of almost tapas style delicacies were delivered to the table in a 2-3-hour long banquet. One constant was the local traditional "dakos" (confused in name only with tacos), which was basically bruchetta...a crispy bread topped with tomatoes, olive oil, and local soft cheese.<br />
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(Dakos are the top, center dish above)</div>
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The rest of the dishes heavily featured real Greek yogurt, stuffed grape leaves, cucumber, octopus (YUM!), eggplant, bacon, sautéed greens, and cheese. No complaints from me!<br />
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Then the main dish would come right around the time we were ready to burst. Almost always, it was roast lamb and potatoes. Dear Lord the meat melted off the bone and right into my stomach. Makes my mouth water again just thinking about it.<br />
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There was dessert every night with a side of fresh fruit, sometimes flaming fruit.<br />
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And what dessert would be complete without another alcoholic beverage? We got raki with every meal. It's similar to grappa, distilled from the remains of the grapes from the wine making process, and tastes similar to a plum gin. Absolutely delicious. Great use of spent grapes AND it apparently aids in digestion too. Bottoms up!<br />
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But I think the best part of the food and culture of Crete was seeing the food growing all around us. One night, we dined underneath lemon and orange trees. Another night, we sat on a balcony overlooking endless olive groves. Definitely a treat for this Colorado girl!<br />
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So would I go back? Most certainly! And even if all I ate were gyros, I'd be a very happy girl.<br />
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Oh yeah and the conference was good too.<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05424058775352463857noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4552209925918767312.post-40620276163817025232014-04-04T06:33:00.001-07:002014-04-04T06:33:42.522-07:00Beer. Beautiful beer. I can't stop thinking how lucky I am. I got the longest holiday season I've ever had. <div>
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This year was the first year I spent Christmas away from the family and while it was hard to be away for the most special time of year, I got to spend it with the man candy for the first time in 3 years. Also, thanks to Skype, I got to be part of Christmas breakfast and Christmas lunch with my family. I also got to enjoy the beauty that is Boxing Day. Oh Boxing Day sales...so many bargains with less shoving and shootings than Black Friday. And then, when everyone was back to the grind, I got a second holiday season at home in Colorado with the family, snow and all. </div>
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When I got back to Manchester and everything settled down, Richard and I focused on perhaps the most important part of our lives: beer. Being the devoted girlfriend I am, I surprised Richard with a Valentine's gift that would benefit the both of us for years to come. That's right, Richard got a brewing kit. So with the first useful bit of science I've ever done, we got to work brewing some beer. I loved watching the massive tub of brown water evolve over the coming days to a bubbly, foamy mess. But while our special brewers yeast was doing its thing, we decided to extend our beer research to Bruges, Belgium to see how the experts do beer.</div>
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Our goal of the trip was simple...we were to drink as much good craft beer we could get our hands on. And I'd say mission accomplished! We found the oldest pub in Bruges (which dates back to 1515), visited another pub boasting over 400 different types of beer, only ate foods with beer in the recipe, and visited the local brewery, De Halve Maan (Half Moon). </div>
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I'd like to take the time to say that Richard and I have both visited countless brewery tours in Colorado, but visiting a brewery that's over 100 years old is quite a different experience. We were told that Bruges had 128 breweries within city limits before WWI. Because copper was required during wartime, all the breweries had to give up their brewing equipment to make ammunition. During the war, Bruges was occupied, but the fields where they grew the barley and hops were not. With military checkpoints everywhere, an underground system had to be created to get the precious brewing ingredients into Bruges so brewing could continue. After the war, only one brewery remained: De Halve Maan. None of the other breweries could afford buying all new equipment to start over again. </div>
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Another fun fact? Beer deliveries by dogs. The brewery was the only place in town with a refrigerated room. The barrels of beer would be delivered to bars in the early morning with an ice block to keep the beer cold through the day. Early morning deliveries would be done by horse-drawn carriages (convenient, because if the delivery men wanted to have a drink or 7 along their route, the horse would know the way back to the brewery and the drunk delivery man could pass out and wake up back at work). But in the heat of the day, when bars had run out of beer and demanded more, it was too hot for the horses to go back out. The solution? They built carriages that ran along the railway lines pulled by German Shepherds. Something tells me dog delivered beer tastes better, but this hypothesis is yet to be tested. </div>
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Coming back from our beer excursion was unhappy to say the least, but luckily we had another beer excursion to look forward to. Richard and I ventured to Ramsbottom, a town outside Manchester, to visit pubs and breweries with our friends Jonny and Schadia. We tried as many beers as possible, again, and stayed in one brewery for a good 7 hours. I'd say it's been a pretty good trip and our research has turned up the best result yet: All beer is delicious and we must continue traveling and tasting. </div>
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As our beer sits in the closet bottle conditioning, I can't wait to start experimenting with our own ingredients and seeing what we get. In the meantime, in Richard's words, we'll keep traveling for food and booze. Because what other reason is there to travel?</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05424058775352463857noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4552209925918767312.post-28754968851166067772013-10-20T08:19:00.002-07:002013-10-20T08:20:58.536-07:00100 words minimum on what I did last summerWhat. A. Whirlwind.<br />
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And I'm not talking about tornadoes for once.<br />
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After the meltdown I call my Viva, I think I earned a few months of something completely different. I am fortunate enough to have an advisor who doesn't mind me taking all my vacation, conference, and summer school time away at once...so off I went to channel my inner jet setter.<br />
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First stop: Bristol. I've mentioned the Bristol summer school on my blog already, but my first trip away for the summer included plenty of time walking around, watching some wildlife, looking at beautiful scenery, and seeing Gromit (from Wallace and Gromit) dressed up all around town.<br />
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Second stop: Manchester Airport to pick up Mom and Dad! People ask me all the time what it's like to live so far away from friends and family. In a word, it's awful. The beauty is that my parents now have the perfect excuse to holiday in Europe! We had ourselves a blast roaming around Manchester, Liverpool, Chester, North Wales, and Stratford-Upon-Avon...which brings us to....<br />
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Third stop: Amsterdam. My sweet parents dictated that, although I'm legally an adult, I was not allowed to visit Amsterdam without them. Good thing they got their cute behinds over here quickly...I wasn't going to wait forever! We got to tour the canals, see Ann Frank's house, eat pannenkoeken, see the red-light district, and witness the outdoor urinals. Most of all, we got some quality time with my amazing parents. That, my friends, is priceless!<br />
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Fourth stop: Scotland. When my parents left town again, I had exactly 36 hours to sob like a child before heading up north to the Isle of Arran for an atmospheric measurements summer school. The views were astounding. The wildlife was beautiful...we saw sea otters, seals, golden eagles, jellyfish, red squirrels, red deer, and the elusive haggis. I did learn a lot too: sleep deprivation causes some serious cases of the giggles, all food can be yellow if you cook it just right, whisky (Scotch) is absolutely delicious, and it's dangerously hard to distinguish seals from rocks sometimes (or all the time for some of us...). Upon returning, I'm very glad I went, but I don't need another 2 weeks without sleep, ever. I guess I should never have kids right??<br />
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Fifth stop: After a quick week home, Richard and I celebrated the year we both turn 25 by going to Tuscany. If you've seen any of the pictures I posted on Facebook, you know the theme of our week-long trip was eating. Oh Italian food...I will never look at you the same way again. So divine...and magically I lost one and a half pounds on the trip. How is that possible?? A full week's relaxation and enjoyment was the perfect close to the summer and start of the autumn.<br />
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In my short interludes in Manchester, I enjoyed spending a full hour a week on horseback, improving my seat and jumping higher than ever (90 cm, which translates to 3 feet. There WERE expletives yelled, but I survived to jump another fence) with the most fabulous riding instructor. Seriously, Hayley, getting me from scared of jumping to 90cm fences in a few months...you're a miracle worker!<br />
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So what's on tap for the new term? Well I suppose I should do some research, perhaps some TAing, definitely more horse riding, and of course the hilarity that comes from an American living in England.<br />
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Watch this space...<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05424058775352463857noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4552209925918767312.post-58848712039540331782013-07-25T13:01:00.003-07:002013-07-29T04:07:28.915-07:00The Lost StudentI love lists.<br />
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I love making lists. I love ticking things off my lists. I love putting small things ("Check Bank Balance") as well as big things ("Write Paper") on my list. I love putting things on lists that I've already done just so I can tick them off. You get the picture.<br />
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Recently, I had two big tasks nagging me on my To Do list: First Year Report and First Year Viva.<br />
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In essence, every year of the English PhD culminates in an approximately 75-100 page report and a defense of that report...including the usual ragging you get from your professors at a thesis defense. As Richard can attest to, I spent 4 cranky, stress-filled weeks straight with no weekends preparing both the report and the viva. How did they end up?<br />
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Both. Were. Horrible. We'll cut to the chase...I don't know what I should know at this point, my advisors made that point painfully clear and continued on to bash the two papers I'm working towards publishing, and I ended up sobbing in the bathroom.<br />
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This was one of the only times ticking tasks off my To Do list was unfulfilling.<br />
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Now I realize that life in the PhD world is not rainbows and ponies (okay...maybe there are ponies in my fairy tale) and that your advisors are put into your life for the cold, harsh reality that is the scientific world, but man this experience broke my confidence. I reacted so strongly (either to my horrible writing or the criticism, or both) that I woke up with the stomach flu the day after my viva. The day after that, I was sent off to summer school in Bristol for a week.<br />
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I am not going to lie. My mind was elsewhere in an anxious, self-doubting place. I was seriously questioning my ability to complete a PhD. After our lectures were done each day, I wandered through Bath and Bristol wondering if I could just see the beautiful sights without having to endure the agony of academia. I felt completely lost.<br />
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In fact, I'm still not completely sure I'm capable of completing this PhD. I do know a few things about myself though.<br />
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<ol>
<li>I work my hardest and do my best when people don't think I can succeed. Seriously. If you ever want me to do something, just say, "Hey Kelsey, I bet you can't......"</li>
<li>Very few women graduate with PhDs, especially in the sciences. I accept that challenge.</li>
<li>As much as I moan and groan about how tedious and annoying science is, I get immense joy having conversations comparing American, British, and Spanish severe weather...and that passion is what got me here in the first place. So I guess I can't hate the weather that much can I?</li>
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So what's the verdict? Well I've already made my next list...</div>
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<li>Read. Get up to date on the knowledge and blow my advisors out of the water.</li>
<li>Work more effectively, play more effectively. That will make me better prepared to work every day and better prepared for my papers, reports, and vivas. And it will make me less cranky when I'm with my friends, family, and boyfriend.</li>
<li>Take criticism to mind, not to heart. Note what needs to change and move on.</li>
<li>Write a blog post about what I've learned from my viva.</li>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05424058775352463857noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4552209925918767312.post-28380063382591686712013-07-08T04:19:00.000-07:002013-07-08T04:19:09.618-07:00Letting GoWhen I turned 12, my dad convinced my mom to get me a horse because girls who are into horses are too busy to be into boys. I proved that I have plenty of time for both.<br />
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While I was in love with Toby and his incredibly bouncy trot from Day 1, he was definitely not so in love with me. He would buck every time I put my leg on him, was terrified of barrels (ruining my rodeo dreams in the first week I had him), refused to cross any ditch or stream or bridge, ran for the hills every time I came into the field to catch him, refused to get in the trailer, bolted away from trot poles, and spooked at his own shadow almost constantly.<br />
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With time, my riding became much better (well, it had to otherwise I would have been killed by this maniac!). My trainer began calling me sticky butt because somehow I would magically sit Toby's shenanigans. Eventually, Toby began to trust my judgement and was less of a pill, but he has always maintained a bit of unpredictability. Of course, we had good days and bad, but he began to love our rides and time together. Or maybe he tolerated our rides only because there were carrots and apples waiting for him at the barn.<br />
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Either way, we became partners and fell in love. I would say Toby was my first true love with all the ups and downs that brings.<br />
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I was lucky enough to keep Toby through my undergraduate and master's schooling through a series of leases by some wonderful women, including my horsie mother, Martha. That meant I could come home on vacation and ride Toby as if I was never away.<br />
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But last week, the time finally came for Toby to find a new family to torture/love. I've grown too tall for Toby and my leasees have moved on to bigger and better things. It's not fair to Toby to hang around for the once or twice a year I come back to visit him (oh...and I guess I visit my family as well). Thanks to a Craigslist miracle, Toby's found a new family with 5 kids and 2 other horses to love on him day in and day out.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFAsxM8AyUlVz-acDju5o_B1iytrOdoUyalxhuRteFNtcs7MrQJtag2_s6NXzsU2Pn_zfPyuyjPfq_WUWgNLrFdjOQ57TqmRgZe9Rl3pndyYnusN7PlNRWkwAp6yyTO7sfvt3i369Dj-Y/s1600/408339_2970134213911_1750502724_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFAsxM8AyUlVz-acDju5o_B1iytrOdoUyalxhuRteFNtcs7MrQJtag2_s6NXzsU2Pn_zfPyuyjPfq_WUWgNLrFdjOQ57TqmRgZe9Rl3pndyYnusN7PlNRWkwAp6yyTO7sfvt3i369Dj-Y/s320/408339_2970134213911_1750502724_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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From what I've heard, Toby hopped straight on the trailer, calmly hopped off, and has been following his new pasture-mates around. He lets the kids hop on and pet all over him. I'm still convinced they picked up the wrong horse.<br />
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While I'm still heartbroken and tear up thinking about letting Toby go, I'm so happy for my sweet boy. I hope his new family (and the 5-year-old girl who has claimed herself as Toby's new owner) learns as much as I did on Toby and that Toby has a wonderful, long retirement. Here's to you, Toblerone!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiixwD1LBfAgl95JSG-KLorziJx-A1y_5vMJNTtJfk9tyx1UG65uKQ0G8ML84MyGpdwQsxtwokGRmUenFTS2nhwgtdQBfn-IvnKAtu_TTVFfS9UxQp_rhotjqnDcAoEvPNE2trQcZtUGYQ/s1600/20130703_194537.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiixwD1LBfAgl95JSG-KLorziJx-A1y_5vMJNTtJfk9tyx1UG65uKQ0G8ML84MyGpdwQsxtwokGRmUenFTS2nhwgtdQBfn-IvnKAtu_TTVFfS9UxQp_rhotjqnDcAoEvPNE2trQcZtUGYQ/s320/20130703_194537.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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(Here's Toby at his new home)</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05424058775352463857noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4552209925918767312.post-80218052775022165012013-06-30T02:15:00.001-07:002013-06-30T02:15:20.651-07:0010 Reasons you should LOVE PuffinsRichard and I got the chance to go to Bempton Cliffs, a sea bird sanctuary, a couple weeks ago. This is a trip I have looked forward to since before I moved to England. Why you may ask? Every year from May to July, puffins take to the cliffs to breed before heading back out to sea. We got to see the puffins fishing during our cruise on Saturday and got to see them flying in and out of their burrows from atop the cliffs on Sunday. Puffins are definitely one of the coolest birds and in true BuzzFeed fashion, I will try to convince you to think so too!<br />
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1. Puffins are expressive little clown birds of the sea, penguin at the bottom and parrot at the top. Just look at their faces and little orange feet. What's not to love?<br />
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2. When they aren't breeding at the cliffs during the summer, puffins live at sea and rest by floating atop the water when they're not fishing.<br />
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3. Baby puffins are called pufflings.<br />
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4. Puffins rock at swimming and can dive down to 200 feet to nab some fish, using their wings to swim like penguins do.<br />
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5. Unlike penguins, puffins are great in the air too, flying up to 55 mph!<br />
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6. Pufflings live their first 3-5 years of life at sea before they start breeding on shore.<br />
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7. Puffins mate for life.<br />
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8. Puffins can hold a dozen fish in their beaks at one time.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSg8FclKC3-vGEfoTtOYIPBuhTGlrd43PJa7JVGZ6MTVhVBolHqmmEAh8TAaAfuNuTw-d8-RwYcaG5w6PntF3JiLYRSFwvxDWIiNAQqolauLU0TFdv98milG3Ouu0TdCwhHDiF2pcHg7s/s620/puffin-7+-+Copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="206" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSg8FclKC3-vGEfoTtOYIPBuhTGlrd43PJa7JVGZ6MTVhVBolHqmmEAh8TAaAfuNuTw-d8-RwYcaG5w6PntF3JiLYRSFwvxDWIiNAQqolauLU0TFdv98milG3Ouu0TdCwhHDiF2pcHg7s/s320/puffin-7+-+Copy.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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9. They're quite loud and talkative during breeding time, but when they go back to sea, they're silent for months.<br />
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10. Puffins believe in joint parenting and working households. The male puffin builds the nest for his mate. The female lays one egg a year and she and the male take turns sitting on the egg while the other goes fishing.<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05424058775352463857noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4552209925918767312.post-72436326058458778342013-06-07T04:25:00.005-07:002013-06-07T04:31:22.772-07:00Under the Northwest England SunThere are some events in life that are too rare to miss. Studying abroad. Solar eclipses. The Colorado Rockies making it to the World Series. Last weekend, it was the coincidence of Richard being off work, the weekend, and sunny weather in Northwest England.<br />
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So, naturally, on Saturday we took the train to Kendal in the Lake District to go for a wander. Keeping with tradition, Richard and I got lost trying to find the beginning of our hike. We decided to hike up the hill to see Kendal Castle, a 12th Century Castle that was once home to the family of Queen Catherine Parr, the sixth wife of King Henry VIII. So we had a casual picnic lunch in a castle. Just another day in England...<br />
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After lunch, we found a walking path along a river outside Kendal. We found blankets of wildflowers and beautiful scenery. I'd say the pictures speak for themselves!<br />
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Sunday was a gorgeous day as well and I competed in an unaffiliated show where I take lessons. I was lucky enough to ride Rose, the sweetest mare I've met. Unfortunately for her, I wasn't quite used to her tiny stature, short stride, and tendency to squeeze one extra stride in before every jump. We only knocked down one pole in the competition. For a horse I had never ridden until the day of the competition, I'd say we did really well.<br />
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Quite the fun weekend, and a sunny start to a rare sunny week in Manchester.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05424058775352463857noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4552209925918767312.post-82728643147730176442013-05-20T04:25:00.001-07:002013-05-20T04:25:18.382-07:00Life in the fast laneSaturday was a new experience for me. I drove on the left side of the road for the first time...legally.<br />
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Emily, a fellow American horse lover, agreed to go to the western part of the Lake District to gallop horses on the beach (Thanks, Groupon!). Unfortunately for me, I didn't do enough transportation research before buying the Groupon and booking our date. While there is a train station in the tiny village of Silecroft, the train times are sporadic, require many changes, and the latest time we could leave the village to get back to Manchester would be during our ride.<br />
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Whoops.<br />
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So we had to get a rental car. No big deal as it was cheaper to rent a car than take the train anyway. After figuring out which side of the car I should get into, we hit the road. The first leg of the journey was on the motorway. As long as I remembered to pass on the right, everything went smoothly. And then we reached the country roads. Now, in the US, country roads are glorious, easy, winding roads that make for good conversations and decompression after a long day. In England, they can cause heart attacks. The country roads are as wide as two cars, if the side view mirrors are touching each other and the ancient stone walls on either side of the road. And they're full of complete maniacs.<br />
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You can imagine my surprise as an Audi came careening around a blind corner at 70 mph in my lane! Needless to say, Emily and I were a bit on edge, uttering obscenities, and praying to any god that would listen that we would survive this experience. And by "this experience" I am referring to the car ride, not the horses. The horse riding would be easy-peasy compared to the driving stress!<br />
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Once we made it to the stables, we had a glorious ride down the beach, hooting and hollering our horses on as we galloped along the waves. We had ear to ear smiles the whole time. The rain even let up for the two hours on horseback!<br />
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At the end of the day, we made it home safely. I only drifted to the right side of the road once in the travels, but not to worry, both humans and car made it back to Manchester intact. It may have been a stressful journey, but it was definitely worth my moustached horse ride on the beach and the beautiful scenery of the Lake District.<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05424058775352463857noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4552209925918767312.post-87805268178432293182013-04-10T03:37:00.002-07:002013-04-10T03:48:35.050-07:00On the topic of foodWhenever I come back to the States for a visit, the first thing people ask is, "How on Earth are you coping with that horrible British food?!" Alright they might say it more politely, but the sentiment is the same.<br />
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What I want to reply with is, "How on Earth are you coping with your heavily transported monoculture and high-fructose corn syrup?!?" However, I also try to be a bit more polite and explain how I really feel about British food.<br />
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First off, British food is tasty, not bland at all. I have yet to have a bad meal. Even better, I have yet to have an only average meal! The bangers and mash seem like a boring meal, but you would be surprised how many varieties of sausages you can get just from the corner shop. And we're talking legitimately delicious sausage. Caramalized onion. Bramley apple. Fresh herb. With fresh mashed potatoes and seasonal vegetables? It makes for an excellent meal.<br />
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Steak and ale pie is delicious for a hearty winter meal, akin to a big beefy stew on a cold winter's night in the States. Fish and chips are an excellent treat, with much more flavor and umph than any fried chicken I've had.<br />
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And the best part? All the food in the shops and restaurants says where it came from. All the meat I've found is British. Most of the produce is too. In such a small country, that means what I'm eating is truly fresh, with pigs, cows, and chickens eating what nature intended them to eat. That means that the food is even tastier and more nutritious when I'm digesting it (cough, cough, corn is actually bad for the animals and bad for you when you're eating those animals).<br />
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And going to the market is an even better experience. All the selection I could ever want, all hand crafted.<br />
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And yes, I know you've all heard of the horse meat scandal. But might I point out:<br />
1. When you go to Walmart and pick out ground meat that's a $0.05 a pound, you also cannot expect it's the finest beef, or beef at all.<br />
2. Horse slaughter is legal in the United States, you may want to have your own meat checked as the US regulations are much looser when it comes to food.<br />
3. Pink slime.<br />
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So how on Earth am I coping with British food? In short, I'm in heaven.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05424058775352463857noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4552209925918767312.post-26067323989255971262013-03-19T09:16:00.003-07:002013-03-19T09:16:46.707-07:00Missing YouLooking back on my previous posts, I've noticed a theme of pure love for everything British. And while this big move across the pond is the best decision I've ever made, I have made quite a few sacrifices to make my new life work. <div>
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My grandmother passed away unexpectedly two weeks ago. If I didn't already have my plane ticket back to the States for my best friend's wedding, there would be no way for me to make it back in time for the memorial service. I'm thoroughly enjoying constantly experiencing new things and meeting new people, but I have a terrible fear of missing everything going on back home. </div>
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Lucky for me, I have a good few plane trips back (mostly for weddings!!) so I won't have to miss absolutely everything. So all this goes to say...I miss everyone back home in the US and love the opportunity to catch up while I'm back Stateside :-)</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05424058775352463857noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4552209925918767312.post-51596953375812079202013-02-28T09:15:00.001-08:002013-02-28T09:15:18.625-08:00Country AdventuresI have effectively disappeared the past couple months. I guess it was important because I had to complete my literature review to fulfil some unfortunate degree requirements, a full two months after my advisor-imposed deadline (it was 77 pages long...that doesn't get completed overnight!). After that mind-numbing experience, I earned myself a holiday.<br />
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All I asked was for a day trip to the countryside to go for a walk. Richard suggested Buxton, in the Peak District. After a quick Google search, we found a few trails around town and only £10 train tickets. Sold. While on the train, we noticed that the last three or four stops had signs for hiking trails. Buxton, however, did not. We wandered around town a while before realizing we couldn't find any trails, besides city sidewalks. We did see a sign for a park and thought, well, why not? We never did find the park, but we did end up following signs for a campsite out of town. Logically, there had to be a hiking trail there right?<br />
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What we found confused me...it's called a public bridleway. There was a gate blocking our entrance to the trail, but it was public right? So off we went up a hill and under a railroad track. Six gates later, after enduring mounting anxiety that we were trespassing, we found what looked like a gate to a driveway where carnival people live. While guns are illegal in England, we did not want to try our luck, so we turned around, back down the hill, cursing our lack of research, promising we would indeed PLAN our next adventure.<br />
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When the disappointment truly set in, we came across a woman walking her two dogs. We asked if the trail we gave up on indeed continued. She said that it did, through the sketchy gate, eventually winding its way back into Buxton. The "trail" (if you can call it that) meandered through many farm fields containing sheep, cows, farmers, and one apparently containing a bull (so the sign said at our exit). At every fence or stone wall, there were ladders or stone steps indicating we were still going the right way. Something in me was a little leery about walking on private farmer land, but Richard assured me this was normal and completely legitimate. These are not the kind of hikes I grew up on in Colorado, but I tend to trust anyone in a British accent so we kept on hiking. Turns out he was right, the moment I started believing we were completely lost, we would see another sign pointing a vague direction, which we followed. If there's anything I trust more than a British accent, it's definitely signage.<br />
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We didn't only roam through fields. We found a wooded path at one point, even though the sign told us a pathless field was the correct direction, not the path. We came across 2 villages, which were really just a collection of a few houses and farms. We crossed a motorway and railroad track. We found a 4-wheel drive trail that farmers presumably use to check on their sheep. We were pointed down an extremely steep slope that I didn't believe could really be a trail.<br />
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Finally, after four and a half hours of hiking, we came up a hill and saw Buxton again. What a relief that my parents wouldn't have to hear that I perished because I didn't google a good hiking trail. After a wander around a beautiful town and a few pints (in a pub that allowed dogs!), we boarded the train back to Manchester. That was plenty of adventure for me, and definitely a hike I'll do again...perhaps a bit more confidently next time!<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05424058775352463857noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4552209925918767312.post-33827512653574661772013-02-02T09:59:00.000-08:002013-02-02T09:59:29.278-08:00Rugby, where concussions are the least of your concernsTo prepare for the Super Bowl, Richard and I watched the England versus Scotland rugby match this evening. I've heard rugby and "American football" are similar....but now I'm not so sure.<br />
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Here's my basic understanding of rugby:<br />
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<ul>
<li>Each team goes in for a big group hug and plays cat and mouse with the ball.</li>
<li>Once someone grabs the ball, it's complete chaos and everyone runs around with no real purpose.</li>
<li>You cannot throw the ball forward, only backward. This seems counterproductive.</li>
<li>If you get bored, you can casually kick the ball down the field.</li>
<li>Once you get the ball in the special end zone thing, you have to touch it to the ground...running around and dancing in the end zone doesn't count.</li>
<li>Making it into the end zone gains 5 points, making a field goal gains 2. Haven't figured out if they have something like a safety yet.</li>
<li>There's a field position called "Number 8" and I'm still trying to decide what they do.</li>
<li>There are no pads or protection, no stopping of the clock, and no whining.</li>
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So I guess I didn't really learn much, but it was exciting. The one thing that was missing was all the good ads. </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05424058775352463857noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4552209925918767312.post-15398861629799571092013-01-22T07:14:00.000-08:002013-01-22T07:14:43.750-08:00Let it SnowI've been back in Manchester for less than a week and today is the first day it hasn't snowed. This unfortunately means it's the first day since I've been back that hasn't felt like Christmas.<br />
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I had a wonderful time at home visiting with friends and family. To be completely cliché it truly is the most wonderful time of the year, especially this year as I've had (count 'em!) 10 Christmases. Totally beats anything Hollywood could produce.<br />
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Of course there was the Manchester Equestrian Club Christmas party before I left and the Boulder barn party when I came back, both horse functions top the list for most alcohol consumed at a Christmas party in 2012. Yee haw!<br />
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Then, thanks to my brother and his girlfriend packing up and spending Christmas in Mexico, we had an early immediate family Christmas with them, one with my dad's side of the family, and one with my mom's. Christmas Eve was spent in the mountains with oyster stew at Dad's parents, Christmas morning with Mom and Dad, Christmas night with Mom's family again (why not eh?). Once I flew back I had Christmas with Richard and another with the sisters in law. Oh my the food that was consumed this holiday season...<br />
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Not to brag or anything, but my Christmas totally trumped your Christmas.<br />
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And, if you're a by-the-numbers kind of person, snow was falling from the sky for 1/2 of them and there was snow on the ground for 9/10. And speaking of snow, I've had a first-hand view of what's called the urban heat island.<br />
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(Since my grandfather is convinced I don't do any schoolwork, I'll take this opportunity to explain the urban heat island in an attempt to prove I have learned something at some point in my career as a student)<br />
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On a hot day, if you're out on the grass, it feels cooler than if you're standing in the street. You can amplify that by walking into a city with all that heat-absorbing concrete around you. There you go...the urban heat island.<br />
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It's been snowing here since I arrived and places in the UK have thigh-deep snow...not completely normal if you're not from around here. I heard my friends at The Paddocks have a foot and a half and are snowed in. At my house, we've only ever gotten a dusting, unfortunately, whereas a mile out of the city there are at least a couple inches of snow. Manchester's urban heat island and a bit of protection from the Penine Mountains around us meant that we didn't have a lot to show for that white stuff coming from the sky. Bummer for me, but I suppose it makes my walk into work a bit less treacherous.<br />
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Since the snow is done (for a couple days at least!) I suppose I should take this time to accept that all my Christmases have passed this year and it's time to move on to other things...like maybe all that school work my grandpa doesn't think I do...<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05424058775352463857noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4552209925918767312.post-53417178996761962812012-12-12T04:54:00.001-08:002012-12-12T04:54:06.121-08:00Happy ChristmasIt really is the most wonderful time of the year.<div>
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Manchester has a distinct chill, and I can faintly smell fires burning in chimneys some nights when I'm coming home. And while it hasn't snowed yet (in Manchester at least!), we have gotten frost on the grass and the puddles from all that rain are frozen on the sidewalks and in the streets. And, being the children we are, Richard and I race to stomp around and shatter the ice. </div>
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Luckily, we aren't dumb enough to try to shatter the ice that's formed on top of our favo(u)rite pond next to our house. Hello, hypothermia waiting to happen!</div>
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But between Christmas dinners, sharing tapas with our friends Vic and Ste, visits with the sisters in law, and all that work we need to wrap up before the end of the year, Richard and I have taken every opportunity we can to sneak over to the Manchester Christmas Market which lines many streets of the downtown area. Even better, Santa is there!! That Santa...can't trump him with geography.</div>
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So with bellies full of Bailey's hot chocolate, brats, French provincial food, and Dutch toffee waffles, Richard and I wish you a very Happy Christmas, as my British friends say. And for all of you back in the colonies, I hope to see you on my travels home this season :-)</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05424058775352463857noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4552209925918767312.post-64887274619462637232012-11-29T07:54:00.000-08:002012-11-29T07:54:00.520-08:00The writing on the wallsI've always loved public restrooms.<br />
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And no, that's not sarcasm...ask my mother. Every time we were out running errands when I was a child, I'd ask to go to the bathroom in every store we went in, just to see what they all were like.<br />
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As I've grown up, I still enjoy reading the writing and doodling on bathroom stalls while I'm doing my business. In fact, it's my favorite form of in-bathroom entertainment (my second favorite form of in-bathroom entertainment is weird gossip and advice you hear one girl giving another while in adjacent, or sometimes the same, stalls).<br />
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In high school, the subject matter was mostly on which boys were hot and which girls were whores.<br />
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In college, while these ladies had obviously graduated from high school, they hadn't risen above the same high school stall writing, although they did learn some more colorful language and more explicit doodles.<br />
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Now that I'm in England, I've encountered a whole new genre of bathroom writing. All I have encountered thus far is positive and/or clever. A lot of it also mentions alcohol. And these comments can be found outside as well on sidewalks, light posts...anywhere really. Instead of ridiculous commentary, I thought I'd share a few of my favorites.<br />
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And since I know you will ask...yes, I bring my phone into the bathroom. No, I haven't dropped it in the toilet yet.<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05424058775352463857noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4552209925918767312.post-31803262442639758862012-11-12T10:17:00.003-08:002012-11-12T10:17:37.423-08:00Now that's what I call History!I've had the amazing opportunity to study in this country...and better yet, I've been lucky enough to travel around on weekends to see the sights. What stands out to me the most, besides the rain, is the history. And we're not talking just signing the Declaration of Independence (to rid ourselves of these people who caused quite a bit of our own history), because that happened yesterday, in British terms.<br />
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And speaking of our Founding Fathers...about a month ago, walking around London, we happened upon Benjamin Franklin's old house.<br />
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But going back much further, I've seen walls built in Roman times. These walls are old. Older than my great grandmother (who is 100 and voted a week ago, thank you very much!). Older than my country. Older than the notion that the world was flat. We're talking back in Jesus' time. That's stinking old.<br />
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Chester, where Richard grew up, is home to the most complete Roman walls in Britan, restored, but not replicated. In fact, you can take a walk around the town on top of these walls...something I got to do a couple weeks ago. What strikes me is that while walking these ancient walls, I can see an old castle, Roman amphitheatre (above), 11th century cathedral, gothic architecture, cobbled streets, and modern shops. Talk about recycling your space while conserving your history!</div>
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And you can see bits of history like this everywhere. York was no different with remnants of a fort (above), (rebuilt) Roman walls, remains of an Abbey (below), and a breathtaking cathedral (with graffiti only dating back to the 1970's, as far as we saw, cathedral below, graffiti omitted).<br />
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I even found a bit of my own history in York. A high school friend is studying in York for her master's and it was wonderful to catch up with a friend with similar life experiences. She told me about a strange coincidence she came across as well...another Fairview High School grad was in York in addition to her. And what are the odds that we would run into that old French-class friend of mine on the streets. We all had a bit of catching up to do, so we had a good laugh at the pub talking about how strange it all was.<br />
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It's going to take a lot to really understand how much history is in this country...even before Roman times. And how history is being made all around us, even in a pub with two friends from high school.<br />
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I guess it's a small world after all.<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05424058775352463857noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4552209925918767312.post-53731027635571962812012-11-08T06:12:00.002-08:002012-11-08T06:12:32.020-08:00Remember RememberNovember 5 was my very first bonfire night, but it took me a good conversation with Richard and some scientific Wikipedia-ing to figure out what was behind all the tradition.<br />
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On November 5, 1605 (before the US was a country, as Richard so kindly pointed out), a group of Catholic men plotted to kill King James I of England, a Protestant, so that a Catholic king could be back in power. They planted gunpowder under the House of Lords, intending to ignite it, but Guy Fawkes was caught guarding the explosives and the plot fell apart. In celebration of Thanksgiving of the King's survival, bonfires were lit across the country.<br />
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While this day no longer comes with a day off school and work, people still follow tradition and gather for fireworks and bonfires. Some bonfires include the burning of a scarecrow that's supposed to represent Guy Fawkes, but because of the religious implications, this practice is frowned upon.<br />
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History aside, our celebrations included the traditional fireworks show and large bonfire. The other unexpected, but apparently traditional accompaniment was mud. But when you think about it, we have an easy equation.<br />
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hundreds (maybe thousands?) of people + rainy weather + grassy park = mud.</div>
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Aren't you glad my education is finally paying off?<br />
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Once we got a good view of the bonfire, fireworks, and a really good cleansing mud bath, we headed home for mince pies, mulled wine (think mulled cider, but with wine instead of apple juice), and warmth.<br />
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Remember remember the fifth of November</div>
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Gunpowder, treason and plot.</div>
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I see no reason why gunpowder, treason</div>
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Should ever be forgot</div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05424058775352463857noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4552209925918767312.post-51725771129369980072012-11-04T13:32:00.002-08:002012-11-04T13:32:48.678-08:00OMG! Shoes.It's come to my attention that none of the shoes in my closet are adequate for the rainy UK. In fact, I do believe they'll all lead to death. Read on:<br />
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<b>Flip flops</b> - My toes will freeze, fall off, I'll lose my balance, get hit by a bus, and die.<br />
<b>Tom's shoes</b> - My feet get instantly wet, I get pneumonia, and die.<br />
<b>Cheap fashion boots</b> - Develop a hole in the bottom of my sole within a week, my feet get instantly wet, I get pneumonia, and die.<br />
<b>Wellies</b> - My feet stay nice and dry, but I have to walk around like a prancing dressage horse, my legs get sore, I lose my balance, get hit by a bus, and die.<br />
<b>Ballet flats</b> - See "Tom's shoes" above.<br />
<b>Tennis shoes AKA "Trainers"</b> - I die of shame.<br />
<b>Heels</b> - Are you joking me? Heels on cobbled streets and uneven sidewalks? Walking 3 miles a day? In any case, my toes get cold, circulation gets cut off, heels get caught in cracks, I fall over, get hit by a bus, and die.<br />
<b>Horseback riding boots</b> - I die of shame.<br />
<b>Down booty slippers</b> - Get worn down in a couple days, see "Cheap fashion boots" above.<br />
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Which leads me to shoes I don't have, but can buy...<br />
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<b>Uggs</b> - I die of shame.<br />
<b>Expensive fashion boots</b> - I spend 3 month's rent on them, my feet stay warm and dry as I die of starvation.<br />
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I could ask my boyfriend for new shoes, but he'll then spend 3 month's rent on them, die of starvation, and I have warm feet but die of a broken heart. Or he buys me crappy shoes and I lose a boyfriend.<br />
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So what's a girl with no shoes to do? Obviously go shopping with Mom and Dad's credit card. They said it was for emergencies...and my life is on the line!<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05424058775352463857noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4552209925918767312.post-19719783146148090982012-10-31T05:05:00.000-07:002012-10-31T05:21:27.322-07:00SpooksWhat a festive week of ghost, ghouls, and gawky kids dressed up like the guy from the Gangnam Style music video. The story is no different here in Manchester.<br />
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Kids and adults alike went out in "fancy dress" (costumes) starting last weekend for parties and clubs and the spirit even made it to the swimming club, where we did an "evil" 300m freestyle (no use of the walls. Try it...it really is evil) and swimming like zombies (on our backs, kicking, with arms at a 90 degree angle to the water. This is hard too...most of us had water up our noses).<br />
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Richard and I started our festivities last night with pumpkin carving and toasting our pumpkin seeds. Plans for tonight include making toffee (caramel) apples (a Lauren-Kelsey tradition for the last 6 years), homemade pumpkin chorizo soup from the extra pumpkin we picked up, Hobgoblin beer, and a good dose of a 1990's Disney classic: Hocus Pocus.<br />
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But the real spook came this morning. Richard had an early shift and was out the door before 6 this morning. When I got up and was getting ready, our internet went out. Strange, I thought, as I wandered into the kitchen to make a cup of tea. As I put the kettle on and got ready to make toast, I realized that the power in our house was out. Was this a mean Halloween prank? An unfortunate outage? Commiseration with the Frankenstorm victims? Just bad timing with my protector/boyfriend off to work?<br />
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Nope. Our pre-paid electricity had run out...worst invention ever. So panic over, I took our electricity stick to the store and topped up on electricity. I guess we should start listening to the strange beeping noise that comes from under our stairs (where Harry Potter lives, as Crisi says).<br />
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Happy Halloween!<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05424058775352463857noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4552209925918767312.post-45939302969922883042012-10-29T04:01:00.001-07:002012-10-29T04:01:24.354-07:00Trips to the countrysideLiving in the city for a month has given me an urge to visit the countryside and experience the clean air and open spaces. Lucky for me, a friend of a friend lives a quick train ride away and invited me for two amazing weekends with green fields, rolling hills, precious pups, and gorgeous horses.<br />
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Besides making new friends, having many laughs, and feeling more relaxed than I have in a long time, these wonderful people let me experience some new (to me) parts of the horse world: a team chase (think cross country leg of a 3-day event) and a hunt.<br />
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The team chase consists of a team of 5 riders racing through a cross country course to snag the best time. Time starts from when the first rider of your team crosses the starting line to when the tail-end of the team crosses the finish line. Of course there are many TALL obstacles in the way (see pictures above...and notice the people standing next to these jumps!). And besides all the calculations involved in running and jumping, you definitely don't want to tire your beloved steed. It's 5 minutes of pure excitement for riders and spectators alike. </div>
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The hunt, on the other hand, is filled with beautiful tradition before, during, and after the 3-hour ride. From hip flasks to port wine, hounds to horses, red coats to velvet hats, every bit made me smile. Before the dozens of horses left the stables, a runner set out to leave his scent along the course. That's right, no foxes were used in the making of this blog...just the scent of a man's trainers. There are options to jump or walk around all hedges and fences and the emphasis is on the joy of riding. Quite a beautiful sight to see.<br />
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I consider myself extremely lucky to be able to witness these events, even from the ground through the lens of the team's camera. I've always heard that the horse traditions in this country are outstanding. But the cherry on top? They let me take one of their horses out for a walk around the countryside and a jump in the yard. Bronson is the most spectacular horse I've had the privilege to ride (don't tell Toby!), listening to every nudge I gave him, and made an excellent tour guide through the country lanes, next to the hedges, and past all the cottages with name plaques on the front. Bronson gracefully took me over some puny logs outside the house, which gave me the biggest smile the whole train-ride home...and perhaps even a few days afterwards.<br />
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A HUGE thank you to everyone involved in my countryside experience. It was certainly an adventure I'll always remember, and nothing makes a girl happier than coming back to the city with muddy boots.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05424058775352463857noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4552209925918767312.post-25332131263666621542012-10-24T06:12:00.001-07:002012-10-24T06:12:43.312-07:00Deck the RadiatorAlright, I've lived in the UK for over a month, and if you know me well enough, you know that means countless spilled substances on my clothes. I've reused moderately clean shirts and trousers (not "pants" as that apparently means the same as "knickers" or "intimates" and just to set the record straight, I only use clean "pants" just like my mom taught me). But my clothing options were quickly depleting as one outfit after another was shot down with food spills and strange smells.<br />
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I had to break down and do the laundry.<br />
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The good news: We have a washing machine in our home.<br />
The weird news: It's in our kitchen.<br />
The unfortunate news: We don't have a dryer in our home.<br />
The lucky news: We have a private courtyard in the back with a clothes line.<br />
The bad news: In case you haven't heard, it rains quite a lot here.<br />
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So, I had to ask the stupid American question: How DO you dry your clothes here?<br />
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Richard pointed out we have a radiator in every room, and I've learned to adorn them with my wet clothes, leave them for a couple hours. Magically they dry and don't wrinkle. Genius.<br />
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Besides being festive and handy for laundry days, I've discovered that the radiator also doubles as a towel warmer. Ahhh...the life of luxury.<br />
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So maybe the laundry isn't something I should avoid, especially if I plan ahead and lay out clothes for the next day so they're nice and warm when I put them on.<br />
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But considering I'm a 24 year old woman who still spills on herself daily, let's not get too ambitious.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05424058775352463857noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4552209925918767312.post-74385087457081243762012-10-16T23:17:00.002-07:002012-10-16T23:17:12.927-07:00Oh! Gwen! Let's get a curry!Now that things are settling down from the big move, Richard and I are beginning to have visitors: Sam and Crisi (okay, they're only across town visitors), the sisters in law, and our first American visitor, Martha.<br />
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Each friend coming to say "hello" thrusts us quickly from being out-of-towners to locals as we take our buddies to see the sights.<br />
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The one attraction we are becoming experts on is the Curry Mile, the largest collection of south Asian restaurants outside of that part of the world...all within a 10 minute walk from our house.<br />
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We even have a favorite restaurant already with some of the spiciest food you can imagine. But there are dozens of different curry offerings, some with garlic and coconut milk, some with tomato and peppers. And even different types and flavors of na'an bread (ranging from sweet to savory) and six different types of dips for your poppadoms (think tostadas, but lighter).<br />
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And for dessert? There are sweet shops littered down the street with brightly colored confections and syrup saturated sweets. They all pair nicely with a Bollywood film from the shop across the street.<br />
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It's a definite must-see for when you come to visit. And I'm thinking a visit there for dinner tonight wouldn't be such a bad idea.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05424058775352463857noreply@blogger.com0