I’m going to try harder at blogging on the weekends, since I never really do.
Friday I went with Claire and Kelly to a pool ‘club’ in Harrow. Kelly has been playing pool/billiards since she was 11 (maybe even younger) and is quite good. This place has the small British billiards tables (with red and yellow balls), snooker tables, poker, and a bunch of big American pool tables. It was nice to play the familiar game for a change… although Kelly and Claire both play by their British rules (which are a little different)… and they don’t call them stripes and solids… they’re stripes and spots. I pumped some money into the jukebox and made everyone listen to my American selections, and we had a pretty good time overall.
Saturday morning I got up nice and early and went with a co-worker (Jon) up to Lakenheath. Lakenheath is a biggest American military base within a reasonable distance… I think it’s even the biggest in the UK… anyhow, it’s a 2 hour drive up, so once a month or so a few of us will carpool up to handle banking, hit up the Exchange, and get some American groceries and American fast food (hooray for Taco Bell!) at American prices. This particular trip was mostly to satisfy my banking needs and to get Jon a new TV. He had recently invested in a big beautiful rear-projection TV in which one of the bulbs promptly burned out. When he investigated the cost of replacing this bulb (there are three total) he found it to be much more expensive than he had expected… now he’s considering just selling the TV as-is, rather than sinking any more money into it. Of course, buying a brand new TV is more expensive than fixing the current one… but boys and their toys… Anyhow, I was particularly useful, having done research on TVs a year or so ago when I bought mine. He had pretty much decided on a 50” plasma when we got there, but I talked him into a 47” LCD… it was a little more expensive, but higher-def, LCD, and a trusted brand. We got it back to his place and tech-savvy Brigid helped him hook it up and get it working. It really is a beaut.
This evening my friend Tristan and his girlfriend Katharina arrived from Germany. Tristan was a German exchange student that I became friends with back in my junior year of HS. We’ve kept in contact over the years (thanks to Myspace) but haven’t really talked much. When I got settled out here I emailed him and told him I had just moved to London and wanted to plan a trip to come visit him in Germany, to which he responded “I’m moving to London in February.” Small world and all that. He got a job at a hotel downtown (he just completed his apprenticeship in hospitality) and Katharina came with him in hopes of landing herself one as well. Katharina has an interview on Wednesday that she is VERY nervous about, as her English skills are a little rusty. We’re working on it…
We had some chicken and salad for dinner (so nice to have help with the cooking and conversation with my meal instead of just TV) and I didn’t have to do the dishes for the first time since December!!
When I moved out here it was the first time EVER that I got a place by myself. Since the first time I moved out I have always had roommates… multiple roommates… and always males (except for a couple months a few years ago). It was a big change to go from feeding 3 grown men (plus myself) at every meal to feeding just myself… cleaning up after 4 people (but having 4 sets of hands to do so) to only cleaning up after myself (but doing it alone)… always having someone around, even when I didn’t want them around to NEVER having anyone around, especially when I wanted someone around… I’m a happier person when I’m living with people than I am living alone… I enjoy everyday ‘relationships’; the good and the ‘bad’.
Anyway, I think I finally got used to living alone… watching TV in my underwear and buying groceries and tp for one… and now I’m back up to a 3 person household and all of the advantages and disadvantages that come with that.
The nicest thing for me about this whole situation is the timing… at work we’re beginning a two week stint of 12-hour days. Without needlessly explaining what all I dislike about this arrangement, I will say I was worried about leaving Dexter alone for that long. Enter new roomies that can let him out, play with him, and feed him dinner. Hooray!
The other awesome thing about having someone around… Saturday night was spent infront of the TV watching a movie. There is something very relaxing and comfortable about just sitting down with some friends, watching a movie, and relaxing. No forced conversation, but a person there if I want to comment… not just me talking to myself.
Saturday, February 28, 2009
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
assholes and angels
I suppose it started on Saturday. I woke up to what is possibly the most beautiful day I’ve seen since I came to the UK. It was sunny, bright, crisp but warmer than usual… all of the elements that bring people, bleary eyed, out of hibernation… one of those days that makes you realize spring is coming. (YEAH!)
I put on some workout clothes and running shoes, grabbed my ipod, put Dex on the leash, and headed out to explore.
Dex and I walked up into Harrow On The Hill proper, which is really only about 10 minutes away from me (albeit uphill the whole way) and in our exploration of the old buildings and church and school grounds came across a big beautiful track. There were about 100 people nearby playing tennis on the 10+ tennis courts and countless others whacking golf balls on the nearby hill and sitting and chatting on the surrounding benches.
The track was inviting to me… I’ve been running regularly with Dex on the streets and paths around my house, but can’t remember the last time I ran a measurable distance and timed myself. I took Dex off the leash (he’s very good about heeling and staying right next to me) and proceeded to run a mile. We’re not going to discuss times, because it’s nothing to be proud of, but it felt good.
We walked around a little more afterward, Dexter was praised by random passers-by, we played in the grass on the hill behind my house, and finished our little outing.
Fast forward to Monday (sparing you the gory details of the rest of my weekend)…
Spring is truly on it’s way… Ever since I started working here I have arrived at work in the dark and left work in the dark. I’ve taken to wearing my running clothes to work so that as soon as I get home I can throw Dexter on the leash and run in whatever twilight remains. Monday the sun was still out when I got home, so I decided to head up to the track again and time myself running another mile. I was in a great mood… excited about my new discovery… happy about the sunshine… pleased with my own dedication… all good.
Half way through my mile I notice a guy standing on the side of the track with his dog (a black lab) yelling and gesturing at me. I pop out my headphones and “damn, there goes my time” walk over to him.
I promise… the things to follow are no exaggeration.
He is screaming at me…. SCREAMING.
“What the f*** are you doing?!? You can’t have a dog on the track!!! What is your problem!!”
I’m a little shocked, not sure how to answer, and can only stammer out an “Excuse me…?”
“I said what the F*** is your problem!! You can’t have a f***ing dog on the track!! You have to wear special shoes to even BE on this track! How f***ing stupid can you be?!?! How f***ing ignorant are you?!”
At first I’m a little defensive and I try to explain that he’s just a puppy (with trimmed nails), we were only running on the track, we didn’t go on the grass (the only signs that I can see say to stay off the grass). I try to explain we didn’t mean any harm by engaging in running on a track :::gasp::: and I was unaware of any special requirements to use the track. The whole time he is screaming over me. Then:
“You are so f***ing stupid!! There are signs EVERYWHERE!” (at which point he gestures to a sign on the opposite side of the track from which I entered by a public road).
I walk over to the sign which says:
“Harrow School Track
Please contact Headmaster prior to use.”
(as he continues to curse and berate me at the top of his lungs)
Again, I try to explain I didn’t see the sign, as I had come down the public road on the other side of the track and not the small path that led past the sign… I try to explain that I meant no harm and I didn’t know… I try to explain that I had been here on Sunday and engaged in the same ‘outrageous behaviour’ with about 200 witnesses (none of whom said anything to me) but I can’t barely get a word in as he continues to, and I am being literal here, scream at the top of his lungs all the curse words and personal insults he can think of.
Finally I just pick up Dexter (who can’t figure out what is going on, and why he can’t play with the black lab) and start to walk away.
“I’m sorry for running on a track. I didn’t know. I’m leaving”
“I’m going to call f***ing security on you. I’m getting someone down here. I just can’t believe how f***ing stupid you are. Ignorant American!!”
Now, I know this may be hard for some of you to believe… but up to this point I have neither raised my voice, insulted him, nor even cursed (and I am known for having the mouth of a truck-driver). I think, honestly, I was just so taken by surprise I didn’t know how to respond… BUT, with this final threat and insult I turn and scream back at him,
“CALL F***ING SECURITY. WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO TELL THEM?? Somebody is RUNNING ON A TRACK?!? I’m already leaving, but go ahead and call! ASSHOLE!!!” (I don’t think it’s possible to put more venom into that one word, but if I could have, I would have.)
So I leave the track… in a state of shock. I head home and am, of course, hit with the dozen or so things I should have done differently.
Part of me wishes I had a big, mean looking dog scare him with. (I know a 20-something woman and her yellow-lab puppy aren’t exactly intimidating.)
Part of me wishes I had found a large rock to hit him over the head with, or possibly a stick to take to his kneecaps.
Part of me wishes I had let him call security, maybe on the hopes that what I was doing wasn’t actually as terrible as he was saying/screaming (nobody said anything on Sunday, after all).
Part of me wishes I had called security myself, and when they arrived played the ‘this man just attacked me’ bit… see if I could squeeze out some tears and hysteria and get him arrested.
Mostly, I just wish I had said something along the lines of,
“There are a dozen ways you could have told me I shouldn’t be running on this track and you picked the meanest, nastiest way possible. You are a bully and a horrible man and you should be ashamed of yourself.”
I know it lacks the zing of some of my other ideas… but the dramatic difference between the class in that statement and the ridiculousness of his behaviour would have left me feeling like the much bigger person… not that it would have gotten through to him.
Anyway, as I’m trudging home… angry, frustrated, berating myself… I round the corner and bump into my neighbour, Maggie. Maggie the classic kind, British-Grandma type that lives next door, and she has been lovely to me since the day I moved in. Maggie has a big black, grizzly German-Shepherd-mix named Jack that she has walked twice a day, every day, for the last 11 years… as she was when I bumped into her. She said hi, asked me what was wrong, and I unloaded my story on her. (Just what the doctor ordered.)
When I finished, she asked me “Is this a middle aged man with a black Labrador?”
“Yes, yes it is! You know him?!”
“Oh yes, I know him. He tried to tell me off once for having Jack off the lead. I gave that rude man a piece of my mind. He is a terrible man. You didn’t know honey, and you did nothing wrong… he’s just an awful man who takes out his unhappiness on other people.”
We walked together up the hill, through a 100+ year old graveyard and Church, down some paths and back home again. Call it luck, fate, or divine intervention, but having somebody to talk to was exactly what I needed, and running into Maggie was the best thing that could have happened.
I bought Maggie flowers the next day... and I'm still considering going back to the track with a rock for Asshole.
I put on some workout clothes and running shoes, grabbed my ipod, put Dex on the leash, and headed out to explore.
Dex and I walked up into Harrow On The Hill proper, which is really only about 10 minutes away from me (albeit uphill the whole way) and in our exploration of the old buildings and church and school grounds came across a big beautiful track. There were about 100 people nearby playing tennis on the 10+ tennis courts and countless others whacking golf balls on the nearby hill and sitting and chatting on the surrounding benches.
The track was inviting to me… I’ve been running regularly with Dex on the streets and paths around my house, but can’t remember the last time I ran a measurable distance and timed myself. I took Dex off the leash (he’s very good about heeling and staying right next to me) and proceeded to run a mile. We’re not going to discuss times, because it’s nothing to be proud of, but it felt good.
We walked around a little more afterward, Dexter was praised by random passers-by, we played in the grass on the hill behind my house, and finished our little outing.
Fast forward to Monday (sparing you the gory details of the rest of my weekend)…
Spring is truly on it’s way… Ever since I started working here I have arrived at work in the dark and left work in the dark. I’ve taken to wearing my running clothes to work so that as soon as I get home I can throw Dexter on the leash and run in whatever twilight remains. Monday the sun was still out when I got home, so I decided to head up to the track again and time myself running another mile. I was in a great mood… excited about my new discovery… happy about the sunshine… pleased with my own dedication… all good.
Half way through my mile I notice a guy standing on the side of the track with his dog (a black lab) yelling and gesturing at me. I pop out my headphones and “damn, there goes my time” walk over to him.
I promise… the things to follow are no exaggeration.
He is screaming at me…. SCREAMING.
“What the f*** are you doing?!? You can’t have a dog on the track!!! What is your problem!!”
I’m a little shocked, not sure how to answer, and can only stammer out an “Excuse me…?”
“I said what the F*** is your problem!! You can’t have a f***ing dog on the track!! You have to wear special shoes to even BE on this track! How f***ing stupid can you be?!?! How f***ing ignorant are you?!”
At first I’m a little defensive and I try to explain that he’s just a puppy (with trimmed nails), we were only running on the track, we didn’t go on the grass (the only signs that I can see say to stay off the grass). I try to explain we didn’t mean any harm by engaging in running on a track :::gasp::: and I was unaware of any special requirements to use the track. The whole time he is screaming over me. Then:
“You are so f***ing stupid!! There are signs EVERYWHERE!” (at which point he gestures to a sign on the opposite side of the track from which I entered by a public road).
I walk over to the sign which says:
“Harrow School Track
Please contact Headmaster prior to use.”
(as he continues to curse and berate me at the top of his lungs)
Again, I try to explain I didn’t see the sign, as I had come down the public road on the other side of the track and not the small path that led past the sign… I try to explain that I meant no harm and I didn’t know… I try to explain that I had been here on Sunday and engaged in the same ‘outrageous behaviour’ with about 200 witnesses (none of whom said anything to me) but I can’t barely get a word in as he continues to, and I am being literal here, scream at the top of his lungs all the curse words and personal insults he can think of.
Finally I just pick up Dexter (who can’t figure out what is going on, and why he can’t play with the black lab) and start to walk away.
“I’m sorry for running on a track. I didn’t know. I’m leaving”
“I’m going to call f***ing security on you. I’m getting someone down here. I just can’t believe how f***ing stupid you are. Ignorant American!!”
Now, I know this may be hard for some of you to believe… but up to this point I have neither raised my voice, insulted him, nor even cursed (and I am known for having the mouth of a truck-driver). I think, honestly, I was just so taken by surprise I didn’t know how to respond… BUT, with this final threat and insult I turn and scream back at him,
“CALL F***ING SECURITY. WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO TELL THEM?? Somebody is RUNNING ON A TRACK?!? I’m already leaving, but go ahead and call! ASSHOLE!!!” (I don’t think it’s possible to put more venom into that one word, but if I could have, I would have.)
So I leave the track… in a state of shock. I head home and am, of course, hit with the dozen or so things I should have done differently.
Part of me wishes I had a big, mean looking dog scare him with. (I know a 20-something woman and her yellow-lab puppy aren’t exactly intimidating.)
Part of me wishes I had found a large rock to hit him over the head with, or possibly a stick to take to his kneecaps.
Part of me wishes I had let him call security, maybe on the hopes that what I was doing wasn’t actually as terrible as he was saying/screaming (nobody said anything on Sunday, after all).
Part of me wishes I had called security myself, and when they arrived played the ‘this man just attacked me’ bit… see if I could squeeze out some tears and hysteria and get him arrested.
Mostly, I just wish I had said something along the lines of,
“There are a dozen ways you could have told me I shouldn’t be running on this track and you picked the meanest, nastiest way possible. You are a bully and a horrible man and you should be ashamed of yourself.”
I know it lacks the zing of some of my other ideas… but the dramatic difference between the class in that statement and the ridiculousness of his behaviour would have left me feeling like the much bigger person… not that it would have gotten through to him.
Anyway, as I’m trudging home… angry, frustrated, berating myself… I round the corner and bump into my neighbour, Maggie. Maggie the classic kind, British-Grandma type that lives next door, and she has been lovely to me since the day I moved in. Maggie has a big black, grizzly German-Shepherd-mix named Jack that she has walked twice a day, every day, for the last 11 years… as she was when I bumped into her. She said hi, asked me what was wrong, and I unloaded my story on her. (Just what the doctor ordered.)
When I finished, she asked me “Is this a middle aged man with a black Labrador?”
“Yes, yes it is! You know him?!”
“Oh yes, I know him. He tried to tell me off once for having Jack off the lead. I gave that rude man a piece of my mind. He is a terrible man. You didn’t know honey, and you did nothing wrong… he’s just an awful man who takes out his unhappiness on other people.”
We walked together up the hill, through a 100+ year old graveyard and Church, down some paths and back home again. Call it luck, fate, or divine intervention, but having somebody to talk to was exactly what I needed, and running into Maggie was the best thing that could have happened.
I bought Maggie flowers the next day... and I'm still considering going back to the track with a rock for Asshole.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
further proof that intelligence is not a requirement
I was walking Dexter last night and came across a man with a huge Staffordshire Bull Terrier (the favoured breed here in England). Of all the people I work with that have dogs, the two that I’ve actually seen are both Staffie Bulls… but this one was about twice the size, on a chain link leash with a mean looking chest strap. He looks like he means business, and his owner was a large, intimidating man that completed the look.
Staffie’s are really sweet dogs that just have a bad rep, like Dobermans and Pit Bulls, so after I asked if he was nice I stopped and let Dex sniff and socialize.
“He’s beautiful! He’s the biggest Staffie I’ve seen. What’s his name?”
“Deefa.”
“Diva? Oh, he’s a she?”
“No, he’s a he. His name is Deefa.”
“I’m sorry, Deeva?”
“No, Deefa…. As in ‘D’ fa’ Dog.”
“Oh.”
Staffie’s are really sweet dogs that just have a bad rep, like Dobermans and Pit Bulls, so after I asked if he was nice I stopped and let Dex sniff and socialize.
“He’s beautiful! He’s the biggest Staffie I’ve seen. What’s his name?”
“Deefa.”
“Diva? Oh, he’s a she?”
“No, he’s a he. His name is Deefa.”
“I’m sorry, Deeva?”
“No, Deefa…. As in ‘D’ fa’ Dog.”
“Oh.”
Friday, February 6, 2009
four blogs
I’ve started about 4 blogs this week… starting with last Friday.
I wanted to talk about how awesome it is to have my very own ‘local’… A pub next door with a good atmosphere, cheap drinks, and people that love Dexter (and more importantly, let me bring him in).
I was going to blog about Saturday and Sunday… going skiing at the indoor ‘ski slope’ in Milton Keynes (interestingly enough, the second place I’ve done indoor skiing)… my trip downtown to watch My Bloody Valentine (loved the 3D)… and karaoke on Sunday night…
Monday brought London’s record snowfall. There was LOTS to talk about there… everything from the trains and tubes to the buses shutting down completely… the DJ’s on the radio begging people to stay off the streets… driving my death-trap to work…building a snow-woman and snow-dog with Dexter in the backyard (more accurately, I built them while he ate the snow around us and attacked my poor snowdog)… and watching some teenagers build an igloo in the field behind my house.
Then, of course, I got sick. It makes me feel old that when I go out in the snow and ‘play’ a little the result is getting sick. Tuesday was miserable... I have the strangest cold/flu ever. None of my usual cold/flu symptoms… just a massive headache, sore neck and back, dry-hacking cough, and really upset stomach. Dexter is no help… he’s just pouty that I’m not taking him for a run twice a day. Lucky me… It’s now Friday and I still feel as icky as I did on Tuesday.
Of course, these are just the things in my personal time… work has been the busiest I’ve seen since I got here. We’re prepping for an exercise, going through a big software integration, conducting a wide-scale hardware transition, and there are only 5 of us to accommodate it all. I had thought this week would wiz by… I’m not adverse to working and was actually looking forward to staying busy this week… Boy, I had no idea what I was thinking. The phone has been ringing off the hook and I have to deal with all the angry German, Polish, British, and other foreign (to me anyway) nationals… Of course, when people are angry and trying to explain their issues in a language foreign to them (English, that is), their accents get thicker and words poorly substituted… which only serves to confuse me and, in turn, further frustrate them. It’s really a vicious and exhausting cycle.
In all… work frustrations, combined with being ill, and topped off with a dose of nasty weather has left me drained. I’m not actually in a bad mood, which is surprising considering the grumps I’ve been surrounded by all week… but I am ready for the weekend.
This morning was just the icing on the cake too… of course, it snowed some more last night… the roads were complete shit… and I’m driving a light little rear-wheel drive POS with tires as bald as Mr. Clean. A trip that takes me 20 minutes on a normal morning with some traffic took me almost 90 this morning. Seriously. The whole last 1.5 miles of the drive I did not break 6 MPH… and I know this for a fact because my Tom-Tom told me so. I’m supposed to have lunch with the Admiral this afternoon and I have no idea if that’s still going to happen or if they’ve cancelled completely... AND, all of the work I’ve been busting my butt on this week is looking as if it’s going to carry over into Monday. Uck.
So this was my week… something that isn’t too unlike the weather. Monday morning I woke up to a blanket of clean, pristine snow… the world looked neat and tucked away and I loved the sight of it… but I find myself on Friday up to my knees in muck… something that had me so excited, backfiring in my face.
Here’s to the weekend and all the potential it holds.
I wanted to talk about how awesome it is to have my very own ‘local’… A pub next door with a good atmosphere, cheap drinks, and people that love Dexter (and more importantly, let me bring him in).
I was going to blog about Saturday and Sunday… going skiing at the indoor ‘ski slope’ in Milton Keynes (interestingly enough, the second place I’ve done indoor skiing)… my trip downtown to watch My Bloody Valentine (loved the 3D)… and karaoke on Sunday night…
Monday brought London’s record snowfall. There was LOTS to talk about there… everything from the trains and tubes to the buses shutting down completely… the DJ’s on the radio begging people to stay off the streets… driving my death-trap to work…building a snow-woman and snow-dog with Dexter in the backyard (more accurately, I built them while he ate the snow around us and attacked my poor snowdog)… and watching some teenagers build an igloo in the field behind my house.
Then, of course, I got sick. It makes me feel old that when I go out in the snow and ‘play’ a little the result is getting sick. Tuesday was miserable... I have the strangest cold/flu ever. None of my usual cold/flu symptoms… just a massive headache, sore neck and back, dry-hacking cough, and really upset stomach. Dexter is no help… he’s just pouty that I’m not taking him for a run twice a day. Lucky me… It’s now Friday and I still feel as icky as I did on Tuesday.
Of course, these are just the things in my personal time… work has been the busiest I’ve seen since I got here. We’re prepping for an exercise, going through a big software integration, conducting a wide-scale hardware transition, and there are only 5 of us to accommodate it all. I had thought this week would wiz by… I’m not adverse to working and was actually looking forward to staying busy this week… Boy, I had no idea what I was thinking. The phone has been ringing off the hook and I have to deal with all the angry German, Polish, British, and other foreign (to me anyway) nationals… Of course, when people are angry and trying to explain their issues in a language foreign to them (English, that is), their accents get thicker and words poorly substituted… which only serves to confuse me and, in turn, further frustrate them. It’s really a vicious and exhausting cycle.
In all… work frustrations, combined with being ill, and topped off with a dose of nasty weather has left me drained. I’m not actually in a bad mood, which is surprising considering the grumps I’ve been surrounded by all week… but I am ready for the weekend.
This morning was just the icing on the cake too… of course, it snowed some more last night… the roads were complete shit… and I’m driving a light little rear-wheel drive POS with tires as bald as Mr. Clean. A trip that takes me 20 minutes on a normal morning with some traffic took me almost 90 this morning. Seriously. The whole last 1.5 miles of the drive I did not break 6 MPH… and I know this for a fact because my Tom-Tom told me so. I’m supposed to have lunch with the Admiral this afternoon and I have no idea if that’s still going to happen or if they’ve cancelled completely... AND, all of the work I’ve been busting my butt on this week is looking as if it’s going to carry over into Monday. Uck.
So this was my week… something that isn’t too unlike the weather. Monday morning I woke up to a blanket of clean, pristine snow… the world looked neat and tucked away and I loved the sight of it… but I find myself on Friday up to my knees in muck… something that had me so excited, backfiring in my face.
Here’s to the weekend and all the potential it holds.
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