Honey, we're home!

We’ve arrived!

After about 19 hours of traveling G and I finally made it to Mobile.
Hallelujah! We looked a bit like a circus act with all of our bags,
but who needs pride anyway?

Here are a few highlights of our travel infused day:
- walking into the Newark airport. It really is amazing to see just
how much BIGGER everything is here in the States! We noticed it
immediately and it kinda made us feel at home

- seeing Ben Stein. The real Ben Stein. We played it cool and all, but
I was sooo tempted to yell out “Bueller, Bueeeellller!" as we passed
by.

- hanging out with my brother for an hour in Houston. Rob had a
layover in Houston the same time that we did, which we discovered only
a couple days earlier. I love random meet ups!

- eating Mexican food. Ooohhh, so good! I’ve missed me some burritos.

- and last, but certainly not least, getting to peruse through the Sky
Mall magazine. I just love that thing. Ive never actually bought
anything from it, but I always get a good laugh at the random things
they sell in there. Here are a few of my favorites:

Ahh- but can they flush?

Now here’s a conversation piece for your next lawn party.

Just what I’ve been looking for! A six foot tall head.  Hey dumb dumb, get me some gum gum!

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Procrastination

We’re flying back to the States tomorrow morning, which means that today my job is to pack. and clean.  and organize.  pretty much all of my favorite things.  or not.

So I’m procrastinating a little.  

I watched a couple episodes of Friends.  

I read the news.

I read the TV recap of The Amazing Race.

I showered for an unnecessarily long time. 

I daydreamed about how great it would be if I was the worker bee and G had to stay at home and pack. 

I even shined my wedding ring.  

I am an expert procrastinator.  Ask any of my college roommates. 

Here are some examples of the lengths I will go to:

These photos were taken six months ago while G and I were supposed to be packing up our old house.  (Please don’t tell my husband I published these)

Cheerio, Watson!  It seems we have a mystery on our hands.

A hooligan is running amuck? Blast!

Well, I say Watson, something around here is as queer as a nine bob note.

GORDON BENNET! YOU IMPOSTOR! You aren’t Watson after all!  

I’m NOT?

hypocrite. 

Eh. whatcha gonna do? scoundrels!

And back to work we go…

***Speaking of the husband, he just called to say that he’s coming home early- that’s my cue to bust my butt and get something done around here. yikes!***

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London town

After five months of living here Glenn and I finally made it to London.  We had a great weekend away. Here are a few photos of our trip:

a

This is at Buckingham Palace.  I wonder how heavy those hats are…

Here she is in all her glory!

One of my favorite things about London are its parks.  I always judge a city by its parks and London has some beautiful ones.  

In a bunker underneath this building is where Winston Churchill and his cabinet met during WWII.  At the time, they believed that the bunker was indestructible, and so remained here throughout the war.  After the war they found out that had the building been hit by the bomb it would have been completely destroyed.  

Here’s the cavalry guard.

Hey Ben!  and behind it is the London Eye.

Parliament 

Westminster Abbey: where William and Kate are getting married in April (it’s kinda a big deal around here)

So here’s a interesting story: In the mid 1600s England went through a big civil war.  Oliver Cromwell helped win the war and dispose of the the King, Charles I (he was executed in 1649).  After the war, Cromwell was given the title of Lord Protector (kinda like a President).  He eventually died in 1658 of what historians believe to be a form of malaria, and was given a hero’s burial at Westminster’s Abbey.  The new government began to crumble after his death, and two years later Charles II was invited to return to the throne as England’s monarch.  Apparently Charles was a little vengeful, because less than a year later (the 12 year anniversary of the execution of Charles I) he had Cromwell exhumed, put on trial for treason and convicted. They then hung his skeleton, chopped his head off, and then stuck his head on a stake and displayed it outside of Westminster Hall.  It hung there for 20 years until someone stole the head.  Rumor has it that the person who stole it would take it out and show it to his guests after dinner.  Bon Appetite.   

Trafalgar Square

Free hug anyone?

Now THAT is is one big fake ship.  or bottle.  or combination.

Tower Bridge. 

We went to this awesome ice cream place called Scoop.  It.was.amazing! 

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Plan to Change, Change to Plan

As I’ve written in several other posts, over the past six months Glenn and I have been learning the art of flexibility- or as I like say, “open handedness."  It’s a tough lesson to learn, but a good one.  We are instructed not to worry about tomorrow, and I think a main reason is that you never know what tomorrow will bring.  

Last week we learned that a project that G is working on just got moved forward a month- which means that we are coming back to the States a month earlier than expected.  We were both really disappointed- we had been looking forward to a trip to Germany to see Glenn’s grandma as well as a trip to Scotland that now were going to be canceled.  We are, of course, excited to see everyone at home, but we’ve loved our time here in England and were sad to see it ending earlier than planned. 

And then the unexpected happened.

The next day (it’s funny how God works) G was approached by his UK boss about the possibility of us returning to the UK for an additional six months to a year.  Needless to say, we are pretty pumped about the idea.  

So our tentative plan is the following:

We fly back to the States this Saturday.  We’ll probably be on the Gulf Coast the whole time we’re home.  While we are there G’s company will work on getting G a work visa to come back.  Once it is authorized we will be flying back to the UK where we will stay for…well, a while.  (I make no guarantees anymore)  We are hoping to be back in the UK by April.  

I may or may not have danced a jig in excitement.  

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A couple weeks ago I headed over to Mildenhall, an American/RAF military base.  My sister in law and the two kiddos were going to fly out of Europe from this base so I headed over to say hi and spend a little time with them.  Side note: I’m becoming mildly obsessed with those two kids.  I think I’d travel all over the globe for a chance to squeeze their chubby thighs- I have to make the most of the opportunities because soon they’ll have none of it.

Like any good auntie would I tried to encourage the silly faces…

and playing in windowsills..

and all kinds of silliness.

When we went to the playground Allie immediately went over to the section designated for the 8-12 year olds.  I figured hey, she’s advanced, right?

I mean, how can you tell this crazy girl that she’s supposed to be acting like a baby? 

 She’ll just scoff at you. (please won’t someone get the girl a tissue!)

And, personally, I’m rather partial to sharing the sly smile.

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Looking at the Loo

A couple weeks before starting my senior year of high school I checked into a hotel in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia to wait out at 24 hour layover from Uganda to New York’s JFK.  It was a nice place, and upon entering the room I immediately checked out the facilities, excited to see that, for the next 24 hours, I would have the luxury of sitting on a porcelain throne instead of squatting into a dirt hole. (There is no way I can describe to you what a relief this knowledge is.)  Unfortunately, my momentary joy was shattered when I turned around to see that, directly across from the toilet (and in full view of my shower) was a window.  And not just a little shaded one either.  It was huge, and in my direct eye line were a cluster of businessmen relaxing in the hotel courtyard before heading off to a meeting.  I, a very awkward and not even close to her blooming years 17 year old, was mortified.  

I immediately flashed back to a moment in my childhood when, while traveling around Europe, I was sitting “on the potty" when I looked up and realized that the ceiling was, in fact, a giant mirror, which gave a very interesting perspective not only on the lady in the stall next to me but also the gentlemen in the bathroom beside us.  I assure you, it isn’t exactly an image you want burned into your five year old’s memory.  

The grand lesson?  Beware of foreign bathrooms.  As Americans we tend to like our privacy in a bathroom.  We not only want stalls but also doors and locks and a few extra barricades in the way.  This is not so much the case for the rest of the world.  

Don’t believe me?  Here’s my proof: (bear in mind that these are just the highlights and in no way are they the only examples that I’ve seen since being in Europe)

This is outside a cathedral in Brugge

And this one was taken while in a parking garage.  Yes, the “wall" is made from glass.  Oh, and it faces the street.  

Lest you think that this “open door policy" is only for the dirty tourist, I give you this last example:

 

This one was taken at the Monte Carlo Casino in Monaco.  They have the money for marbled floors and self cleaning toilets, but apparently DOORS were superfluous. (And yes, i did wait until the guys had cleared out before i snapped the shot.  And no, I did not use a zoom nor was did I enter the men’s room to take this shot.  I’m actually standing out of the room and on the stairs leading to the casino.   

God bless America.

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Unexpected turns along the road

I have a long overdue introduction to make: meet our beloved dog, Zeke.  (pronounced Z-EE-K, like, “Hey, don’t you give me any cheek!")

His full name is Ezekiel James LaBron.  Yes, it is totally normal for a dog to have two middle names and yes, I do often refer to him by his full name.  My husband just calls him Fat Head (he does have a very fat head).  Zeke fully responds to both, which either means that he’ll respond to anything or that he’s smart enough to know that one name just can’t quite sum him up.  

We named him after this guy.  He was the first person we met in Mobile, AL.  When he  (with deep baritone voice) introduced himself as Zeke I almost laughed out loud.  I mean- it was just too perfect. Don’t you just want to pat him on his shiny, turtle waxed, head?

So when this guy came along we named him after the original Zeke.

He’s an Olde English Bulldogge and one of my favorite creatures on this whole earth.  We got him this past summer and he’s now almost 2 years old.  

He likes cuddling with his momma.

It’s not uncommon for me to wake up and find him like this.  

He’s crazy stubborn, a little neurotic, incredibly loyal, snorts all the time, a complete lazy bones, and can always make me laugh.  In short- he lights up my life. 

Oh, and he’s ALLLLLLL boy.  Given the choice between pillowy grass and a mangey stinking mud hole he will always, and I mean ALWAYS, choose the mud hole.  

Like I said.  He’s a boy.  A dirty, filthy, nasty, smelly, gross boy.

But it’s hard to resist that face.  

This is Zeke’s best friend, Taylor.  She’s a boxer and belongs to some of our best friends.  She’s gotten quite a bit bigger since this photo was taken, but I hear that she’s just as spunky.  Which is good, cause Zeke likes girls with a little zest. 

When we found out that we were moving to England for 6 months I had to bring Zeke to Nebraska for an extended vacation at my parents’ house (BLESS THEM).  We miss him terribly, but I know he’s getting a double dose of love and is well cared for there.  I can’t begin to express how thankful I am to know that he is well taken care of.  My parents are getting triple jewels in their heavenly crowns.

I actually feel a bit sorry for him though.  He’s living the life of a king at the moment, so coming back to us will be a bit of a readjustment.  

No more cookies!  No more steak! Don’t talk back! 

Apparently we’re strict.  

Earlier this week we all received some surprising news.  After noticing that Zeke was acting a bit strange my mom took him into the vet who then referred her to a specialist in Omaha (about 60 miles away from their home).  Braving a blizzard, icy roads, and a dog who, of all things, hates being in a car, my mom rushed him to the specialist on Monday.  After doing some tests, we found out that Zeke has been diagnosed with a disease called Progressive Retinal Atrophy (PRA), which, in laymen’s terms, means that his is permanently and irrevocably going blind. At this point he probably only has about 5-10% of his vision left and that is quickly dissipating.    

At first I was devastated.  His vision deteriorated so quickly, and this honestly isn’t something that I had ever even imagined could happen.  My heard ached for him and I was so confused about what to do next.  What does one do with a blind dog? However, after speaking with the vet I realized a few things:

1.  He isn’t in any pain- the boy is as happy as can be. In fact, if you didn’t know he was blind you’d swear there was nothing wrong with him, he still plays and acts just like a dog should.  He loves his life, and is adapting amazingly well.

2.  I’m glad that this happened while he is still young.  We can easily train him and help him adjust to his new situation.  It would be much more difficult if he was a 7 year old dog struggling to learn new commands.  

3.  So often people regard a disability, in whatever form, to be frightening and horrible. But the more I assess those emotions the more I realize how foolish and small minded they are.  Yes, disabilities, or hardships in general, make life more difficult.  But the greatest rewards come from overcoming huge challenges.  The people I admire most are the ones that refuse to allow barriers keep them from achieving their goals. There is no story worth telling that doesn’t involve the act of overcoming the seemingly impossible.  The greater the challenge, the greater the reward.  

I realize that I say this as someone who has lived a relatively easy life.  And I know that Zeke is just a dog, and that his blindness cannot even remotely be compared with many of the disabilities that others face.  But the same principles and heart that are used to climb a hill can be used to scale an Everest.  

We are just beginning our journey in learning how to care for a handicapped dog.  I’m sure there will be many frustrations along the way.  But my greatest hope is that Glenn, myself, my parents, and any others involved in training our boy will learn to see the bigger picture through all of this.  Life will always throw us curveballs, and tomorrow can hold amazing or horrible news.  What is important is how we handle that news, and the actions we take once the dust begins to settle.  Maybe I’m getting a little too preachy, and I suppose it’s time to step off the soap box and put it back in its closet.  But these are the thoughts that I’ve been convicted of lately, and I dearly hope that I will rise to the challenge, and when that boy is back in my care I hope I can show him a full life and never shirk from my responsibilities just because it is difficult or frustrating.  I don’t want to wallow in pity.  My dog is blind, but he will have the best life possible.  (You see, I have a bit of a stubborn streak myself)

and praise God he has such a big, thick, skull to bump into things with.  

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