Unimagined

I'm always interested to read or hear about the experiences of other Brits who have traveled to the USA for more than just a vacation. While browsing the BBC News website on Thursday, I spotted a magazine article entitled "Hello America, I'm a British Muslim". It was the story of a man named Imran Ahmad, who had written a book about his life as a Muslim living in the Western world. His family had moved from Pakistan to England when he was very young, and he'd also traveled extensively in America on business. Having recently been made redundant from his corporate day job, he seized upon the idea to follow up the launch of his book in the USA with a speaking tour, starting in Chicago and proceeding over the course of 50 days in a clockwise road trip, giving his talks at local Unitarian Universalist churches.


Out of curiosity, I followed the link to his website to see the locations and dates of his events, and it turned out that he was coming to Glen Allen on Saturday! It so happens that one of the offices he regularly visited on business is located right in Short Pump, so of course Richmond had to be on the list of stops.


The audience numbered about 25. Other than myself, the only visitors were a couple of Imran's previous colleagues, the rest being members of the local congregation. Still, the Unitarians are an accommodating lot. Imran came on and started talking in a rather despondent tone about the current tension between Muslims and the West. It would have been depressing had it not been for the interesting viewpoint that he offered. Growing up during the Soviet occupation of Afghanistan, he remembers the Muslims and the Christian West being on the same team, on the side of good, against the evil Godless Communists. It then came as a huge shock when in 2001 all that was forgotten and he found that now the Muslims were being characterized as the 'bad guys' by the West.


While interesting, the historical summary of geopolitics was really just a preamble to set a context for why Imran came to write a book. The main part of his talk centered on how he eventually persuaded himself to sit down and write, as well as the circuitous tale of how he finally got the book published an publicized. While his sense of humour was undoubtedly British in its self-deprecation, he certainly knew his audience in a way that few British entertainers would and had the whole room in fits of laughter at times. I may have been the only person who truly understood his quips regarding Ann Widdecombe, but other than that he cleverly explained critic terms so that we could all enjoy the punchline.


Interestingly the moral of his story of trying to get published was carefully but not obviously suited to the Unitarian Universalist mindset. On the speaking tour website he mentions that the events are not of a religious nature, and this was certainly true. I would say there is room to argue that not UU event is of a religious nature! Nonetheless, he spun a tale of an author initially focused on the potential for money and fame who, through a combination of good luck and sheer bravado, eventually becomes a published author but never achieves the fame and riches. However, he discovers that the real joy is in the creative process of writing, and also in the many friends and frankly unique experiences he has been blessed with as a result of writing the book. The on-a-whim tour of America is simply the latest mad adventure!

10K time

This morning was the Monument Avenue 10K, am I'm pleased to say I achieved my primary objectives of getting out of bed this morning and running from start to finish! Considering the preparation I managed this time around, anything else was going to be a bonus. I put in an unofficial time of just under 50 minutes, which is about a minute slower than my last attempt. The conditions were also more challenging this year. The roads were wet with puddles, and it was cool but humid. This time I found it harder to find a space to run in and so it took me longer to get in a rhythm. For the first time this year they required a qualifying time to be in the front starting waves. I think this put a lot of people further back than they wanted to be, so there was a lot more overtaking and it was a bit hectic. Anyway, enough with the excuses!

James River Scramble 1: Recon

There is now less than a week before the Monument Avenue 10K. For my final phase of training I am sticking to non-running cardio exercise, as I think I have the legs to run a decent time, but my pace will probably be determined by how hard I'm breathing! In that vein, I dusted off my mountain bike and went to survey the James River Scramble course.
The first thing I would like to say is that it feels like a lot further than 10K! Just the thought of running some of those sections is enough to scare a man. The second thing that struck me is that the trails are going to get pretty congested at certain points, what with 1250 runners crowding through there. I hope people are good natured because an over eager competitor could easily push someone off a cliff.


The start is harmless enough, although the first half click probably has more terrain than the entire Monument Ave race. It's smooth sailing over the Mayo Bridge, then the first real pain strikes shortly after in the form of the staircase up onto the flood wall. Thankfully running along the top of the floodwall provides another section a flat terrain. As if to make you pay for how easy you've had it so far, the course then heads straight up the side of an old railway embankment, kicknamed the 'Mayan Ruins'.


At this point there is a slight reprieve as you come out on Riverview Drive for a while, then across the railway, down the spiral staircase and onto another flat section of fireroad. I've just realised I misread the map when i was out on the trail. I had thought the course took in a section of Buttermilk trail, which would have been lethal, but actually it loops back on the footpaths next to the river. This way you come out on the rocks to the South-West of Belle Isle and have to rock-hop to get over to the island. Therein lies probably the worst section of the course, on the interior of Belle Isle. "Gnarly" is the only way to describe it! You'd have thought it would be smooth running back to the Start/Finish line, but I have no doubt the undulating footbridge under Robert E Lee will claim some casualties.

Sheeps!

The lambs have hatched at Meadow Farm, so of course we had to go take a look. They must have had a busy lambing season, as there were probably close to two-dozen lambs altogether. Head on over to my Flickr for the entire set (Kristal was behind the camera and took a multitude of shots).

Asland Coffee & Tea

It seems as though the best times in life occur almost by accident. It has been a long week for both of us and we couldn't wait to unwind on Friday night. Kristal suggested we go up to Ashland for dinner and some drinks. It's a cute town with a lot of character, as the railway line passes right down the high street. Living in Glen Allen, we're really very close to Ashland, but it feels much more like the country.


We decided to dine at the Smokey Pig, a BBQ joint on Route 1 that we have often driven past with curiosity. As one would expect, it was a friendly place serving good, honest food. One item on the menu was slightly unusual, which was the apple puppies. Of course I had to order them! They turned out to resemble hush puppies (fried dough balls) but the batter was sweeter and included finely chopped apple. They were served covered in a lemon sauce than strongly reminded me of lemon meringue pie filling. In any case, they were a bit sweet, in my opinion, to be served as a side to the main course, so I saved them to the end of the meal!


After dinner we headed on in to the center of Ashland with the intention of have a drink or two at Ashland Coffee & Tea. As the name suggests, it is a coffee and tea shop, with sofas and books and the comfortable atmosphere that Starbucks wishes it had. The adjoining room, however, is the famous 'listening room', a distictive music venue where we hoped to catch a decent band. As luck would have it we arrived exactly as the show was about to start. The entertainment for the night was provided by a bluegrass outfit called Some Assembly Required. I thought they did a fine job, especially the banjo player who had mad banjo skills, and the mandolin player who had some funny stories up his sleeve. The beers of choice turned out to be from an German organic brewery called Pinkus. I enjoyed a bottle of their Jubilate Lager, and then their Pilsner. All in all a very relaxing evening, without hardly planning at all.

My Nipples Hurt

Is that an over-share? Hey, at least there are no photographs accompanying this post! I could take one right now if you like? Actually, it is only my right nipple that is slightly sore. The Monument Avenue 10k is in two weeks, so there is no respite from the training, even on a rainy Saturday morning. Nipple chafing was inevitable. I completed my 8.2km circuit in light, steady rain, clocking a time of 41 minutes. I had hoped to be on track to break my personal record of 48 minutes but I never quite got going with the training until the end of February. Really the Monument Avenue is my warm up event to participating in the James River Scramble this year. If I am able to complete that event I will happily retire from my brief running career. It's bad for the knees. After that I will only run to compete in a Triathalon, but that would require me to learn how to swim! I mean, I can stop myself from drowning, but covering 1500m is beyond my body's propensity to sink like a stone. Anyway, hopefully my nipple will recover in time to resume training and put in a good time on race day. I hope to blog my Scramble training, so watch this space.

Birdwatching

We've had a bird feeder in the front yard since we moved in. You might think the birds would be at risk from the large population of neighbourhood cats, but so far I haven't any frisky felines try to grab a snack. Barry, I know, is far too slow to ever sneak up on anything more alert than a dead twig. I'd expect the new kitten from next door to have a go, but he has extra toes so maybe they get in the way when hunting!

I have finally given in to my curiosity to know what all the different nondescript little brown bird are that frequent our feeder. Now, anyone from my family will tell you that I hold a fairly dim view of bird classification. I enjoy spotting birds, but if I can't tell you what it's called, that's fine by me. A bird is a bird, and they are marvelous to watch without naming them. But like I say, after a year my curiosity has gradually grown and now I would at least like to have some idea of how many different types of bird we have in the area.

It starts out easy. The bright red ones, with the black face, orange beak and sharp haircut? That's a (Northern) Cardinal and since it's the State bird, it would be a cardinal sin for me not to know it! Straight away we run into the first pitfall of bird watching, because the brown ones? Also Cardinals, but they're the ladies or the kids! Still, the distinctive tuft is enough to single them out, and the bright beak is another strong clue.

Next up the Blue Jay. Another crested variety, it's showy personality makes it easy to spot. These guys are never shy and tend the throw their weight around. The only other bird about the same size as the first two is the (Northern) Mockingbird. The poor Mockingbird is easy to ignore, dressed in a rather dull gray, but the white flashes as it flies makes it a cinch to ID.

Once we get on to the smaller species I have to say I start to struggle. Sure, from the pictures in the book it looks like it should be a piece of cake to tell them apart, but out there on the feeder, flitting back and forth between the trees, never sitting still, never exposing the perfect left profile for comparison to the plate it's another matter. Before long, I start picking out dark caps, breasts, wing bars and so on. Then it is a case of leafing through the bird book attempting to locate a drawing with all the features present. Unfortunately I have no idea how they ordered the plates. I mean, I've narrowed it down to the garden birds section, and then I would've expected them to go in size order, but apparently this is not how it's done.

Despite this frustrating lack of logic, I reckon I have positively identified a House Sparrow, a White Throated Sparrow, a Dark Eyed (Slate Colored) Junco, a House Finch, and some kind of Chickadee (I think probably the Carolina variety). We also have a Red-bellied Woodpecker in the area. These birds are all, of course, exceedingly common, but in a time when garden birds are said to be have a hard time I'm glad we see so many.

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Update: Still no Grackles but the Brown-headed Cowbirds have arrived en-masse. The Woodpecker turned out to have a friend, so there's two of them. We saw a Bluebird (very exciting) and we also have a pair of Mourning Doves in residence.

Snow Day

2712, originally uploaded by evens.john.

It started snowing late in the afternoon on Sunday. Really big flakes of the stuff that were settling right away. As far as we can tell it snowed all night and was still going this morning. We woke up to find the world blanketed in a soft layer of white cold. The best thing of all: work was closed due to (as they say around here) 'inclement weather'! I was really happy to get the extra lie-in this weekend.
I can never make up my mind whether I like snow or not. I'll have to admit I acted like a bit of a kid at times today, running and jumping in the snow. I mean, this stuff was piled up so thick but so powdery and soft it was like being in a padded cell or something. I also enjoyed some manly activities like shoveling snow of the driveway, even though I only had a 1' x 3' piece of chipboard for the task.
In the end, though, I was boring and spent some time doing some filing, organising my online identity and generally getting around to that menial, low priority stuff which normally falls of the bottom of my to-do list at the weekend.

FiOS

This post is coming to you from a super-fast Fiber Optic internet connection. It won't make things any quicker at your end, I know, but hopefully me having faster upload times will encourage me to post more frequently, more imaginatively and with more photos. Lets start by recalling the process of having FiOS installed.


The 3Mbps down and 1Mbsp up I was getting with DSL was probably sufficient for my needs, but then Verizon screwed up my account and I got stuck with 768Kbps which really sucked. Then my landline inexplicably packed in and I decided it was time to upgrade to the 21st century. I canceled all my previous Verizon services and signed up for FiOS online. I was pleasantly surprised to find that a technician was available two days later to come set up the service. He arrived right in the middle of his allotted window, at 3pm. I showed him around the house and he seemed to think it would be a simple job getting me hooked up.


The thing with FiOS is that they don't tell you about all the hardware you're going to need until you already confirmed your order. The next thing you know, you get an email that explains what you have to do before the technician arrives. This includes running Verizon's virus and spyware scanner on your PC, and also finding a location in your home for the terminal power source. You see, the Optical Network Terminal (ONT) they install has to plug into a regular three-pronged outlet. This turns out to be a tricky proposition since the obvious place to put the ONT is where your existing telephone terminal is, but since telephone don't need a power supply, the telephone terminals usually aren't conveniently located near an outlet. I get the feeling that how smoothly your installation goes depends on how inventive your technician is. I sussed out the situation a little beforehand, and with my suggestion and his ingenuity, we came to an easy solution that looked like it would work well.


Dude set to work installing the power supply and battery backup in our bedroom closet. He did a really nice job of stapling the power cord to the base board and up to the outlet. That accomplished be went out and installed the ONT on the back wall. I was quite impressed that he took the old AT&T terminal off, since the evidence suggested that all previous technicians had left old, obsolete hardware in place. He used an existing Coaxial run to get from the ONT to the router. I realized too late that the router didn't need to be in the bedroom as well, but dude had seen the coax there and I guess jumped at the chance to make the install job as easy as possible for himself.


Once it was all hooked up, we connected my laptop to the router with an Ethernet cable and begun the software side of the installation. Dude plugged a USB dongle in to run the setup program. I respected the fact that the technician unselected most of the dumb stuff that Verizon tries to install on your computer at this point. It went really smoothly, and the router comes WEP enabled so that reduces the hassle of trying to set up wireless security yourself. Once the internet connection was up and running the job was done and dude went on his merry way. I made sure to ask some ambiguous questions about what would happen if certain items were powered down, just so I could play around with them if I wanted. This morning I moved the router to my office, which involved opening the ONT and swapping over the coax. I had to go under the house to find the right cord, and was shocked to discover that dude had screwed my crawlspace hatch shut. Not only that, but he had snipped off the head of the screw, making it virtually impossible for me to open the hatch. I don't know if this is common practice, but it pissed me off. In the process of trying to open the door, I snapped the handle off, but in the end my tenacity and a variety of levers got me in.


I was very please to find that once I hooked everything back up and powered on the router, my connection was instantly restored. All my other experience with cable company-supplied router is that they are totally unreliable. Verizon supplied the Actiontec MI424, which I've never heard of, and is kinda big and ugly, but as long as it works. I can probably find someone to give my old D-link router to.

New Flag

The year is 2009 CE. Virginia is entirely occupied by the Americans. Well, not entirely...one (very) small village of an indomitable Brit still holds out against the revolutionaries.


Just call me Mykingdomforanos.


The flag that Kris bought me for my one year anniversary in the States was beginning to show it's age. Sun, wind and rain had put a serious dent in the color intensity. Plus I invested in these clever anti-furl flag holders that are meant to rotate all the way around the pole. But the dowel became swollen by moisture and the free rotation was lost. The flag would wrap around the pole, snag on the wing nut on the bracket and start to tear. So, it was time for a new one. The old flag has been retired to our tool cupboard, where it now helps hide the hot water tank.

Marine Corps Training Exercise

I've been meaning to post these photos for a while now. They were taken from outside my house on January 11th. For several days these scary looking aircraft would come skimming over the trees in pairs. One day they came over for three consecutive passes, right over our house! In fact, I saw them all over the city. You'd here them long before you ever saw them, particularly given the low altitudes they were flying at. Unfortunately I never had my camera ready at the best moments but still got a few shots. I later heard that some kind of Marine Corps training exercise was going on in the area, which makes sense given the models of aircraft involved.


The first picture is a rather distant but beautifully framed shot of a Sikorsky CH-53E Super Stallion. It's the largest helicopter in the US Military inventory, and is used by the Marine Corps as a heavy lift helicopter. I was disappointed not to see it flying over with a M198 Howitzer slung underneath, but I guess there are some safety concerns when operating over friendly residential areas.


The second aircraft pictured in a V-22 tiltrotor aircraft. These things are scary to behold, I think because they can drone around at low altitude like a helicopter, then tilt the rotors forward and take off over the horizon like a regular aeroplane. The Marines use the MV-22 variant, and were the first to deploy them in combat in Iraq.

Bass Pro Shops

Recently opened near Ashland is Richmond's new Bass Pro Shops store. While it is essentially just another store for outdoor activities with an emphasis on fishing and hunting, we had heard that it also had quite the theme park atmosphere going on. In other words, despite the fact that we had no interests in buying any outdoor equipment, it was worth going to take a look around simple for the entertainment factor.


You know something is different when you have to go through a turnstile at the main entrance. At least they don't charge an entry fee! We arrived around lunchtime, so decided to have a bite to eat at the attached Islamoranda Fish Restaurant. There was a short wait for a table and we begun to browse the store. Its really a Mecca for all that's tacky about rednecks. I don't have a problem with the redneck lifestyle. Nor do I even object to 'weekend rednecks' who live in the city but go huntin' and fishin' in their spare time. But neither group really has any need for recliner furniture upholstered with forest camouflage print fabric! But then you knew the chain dedicated to the commercialization of outdoor activities when you saw the alcove dedicated to NASCAR.


Lunch was very pleasant. The dining room had a huge reef-themed fish tank (although the coral fake) which helped you forget that the view out the window was I-95. I got a Smoked Wahoo Wrap, although I still have no idea what a wahoo is. After lunch took a closer look at the main attraction of the store, a huge indoor freshwater pond full of local varieties of fish, complete with cascading waterfall that comes down from the ceiling. The pond is built above the floor with a plexiglass front so you can see all the fish, and every so often a member of staff does a quick educational session about the different species.


Next we headed upstairs to check out the camping section, which is all we would seriously be interested in. Unfortunately they don't really cater to real outdoors types. The first thing you are confronted with is their range of huge gas and charcoal grills, fryers and other cooking equipment. It's all ridiculous technology that is in no way easily portable - more for the type of people that go camping out the back of their F-150. The only thing we saw that we liked was a two person kayak.
For the fun of it we wandered over to the hunting section. I'll admit it: I like to look at guns and fantasize that I have some legitimate use for one in my life. In fact, not just one, but several, such that I would need a $3000 gun safe in my office for my extensive arsenal. But I don't, so I have to be content with watch other people who don't need guns try to buy one despite having no criteria for choosing a weapon other than which one looks the coolest. Or on the case of one gentleman, without the proper ID. "Don't worry" says the salesman, "We'll get you squared away".

Stem Meme

In the news today the possibility that President Obama may reverse his predecessor's ban on stem cell research. I considered writing a piece on the science behind stem cell research and the possibilities that would open up if and when the ban is removed. But another story caught my eye, that Geron, a biotech company in the US, has been given approval by the FDA to proceed with a clinical trial treating paralyzed patients with stem cells. What really stood out for me was that the proposal document was approximately 21,000 pages long. The BBC reports that this is the largest application on record.


Herein lies a challenge for scientific progress, as the boundaries of research stretch into ever more complex territory. I would contend that most of the controversies science is facing, in the fields of stem cell research, climate change, evolutionary biology and other, emerge because the topics are so complex that most contributors to the debate are barely able to scratch the surface of understanding. I could have written a short piece about the possible benefits of extensive stem cell research, but in order to summarize such a complicated subject, the facts necessarily become watered down.


Clearly scientific progress in the modern era relies on public support, which in turn requires that the public have some understanding of what they are supporting. But is this feasible? Obviously good communication between the science lab is key. When, though, is someone completing the arduous education required to practice stem cell biology expected to find the time to also become a master communicator?


Ultimately, with such a large public body to communicate to, memes become a vital tool. A meme is a package on knowledge in the same way that a gene is a package of genetic information. Memes are replicated when one person tells another, and like genes, they are subject to 'natural selection'. Successful memes become an ubiquitous part of our culture. For example, everyone knows that Neil Armstrong said "One small step for man, one giant leap for mankind" as he set foot on the moon. This meme is successful because of the inspirational nature of the message, because the words are cleverly arranged, but simple and because of the way it has been communicated: that video clip of the man in a space suit, complete with the beeps and whistles of the comm system.


Memes, like genes, are also prone to random mutations. People make mistakes when they re-tell the story, or deliberately change the facts to make the story more appealing. The success of a meme has nothing to do with how true it is, only how well it is spread throughout a group of people, and eventually the entire population of a country of the world. Think of the show Mythbusters, who every week deal with successful memes that often turn out to have no basis in fact. Richard Dawkins, who coined the phrase 'meme', contends that religion is the most successful meme of all human history, and in his opinion, is completely false.


Back to stem cell research, how can the researchers control the stem cell memes that proliferate? Is there some way to selectively breed a meme that is not only robust and successful, but also true!? Unfortunately, sound scientific knowledge isn't easily transfected into a popular meme. Scientific fact is not usually catchy, universally inspirational or expressed accurately in a poetic form. We shall have to see how the population of memes changes now that the POTUS looks set to throw his support behind this valuable and interesting line of research.

Feeling chipper

This past Thursday I got home from work and was browsing Craigslist. As usual, there were no interesting motorcycles or guitars for sale. I meandered into the farm and garden section, as its always interesting to see what animals are available to buy. There are often goats and chickens, horses of course, but rarely sheep. It disappoints me that there aren't more sheep, really. Anyway, I was scrolling down the page and there it was. My chipper. I have been looking for a decent chipper for ages to clear the ever growing pile of dead wood accumulating behind my compost station. That pile recently put on a big spurt, as a result of me chopping all the dead and dying limbs from our three gigantic Crepe Myrtles out front. In fact, I pruned (in some cases razed to the ground) several shrubs around the yard a few weeks ago. So I needed a chipper, but all I had seen before were chipper/shredder/leaf vacs that only took very skinny limbs, or these monstrous chippers that will devour entire trees and need to be towed behind a lorry. This little guy was perfect for my needs. A 5hp engine, 2" diameter capacity. And he looked to be in good condition.


The key with Craigslist is to act fast. When I bought my punchbag no fewer than three interested parties called while I was there collecting it. I wasted no time picking up the phone to find out if my quarry was still available. Yes, it was, and yes, I could come right round to take a look! The gentleman owner had just used it a few times clearing some brush at the back of his yard, and it had been sitting a while since then. This, of course, meant that it would start, but he assured me it ran well and it was too good an opportunity to pass up. The deal made, I loaded it into my truck and headed for home, trying not to speed despite my excitement.


On Saturday I took to task getting my boy running. Earlier attempts on previous evenings suggested that the gas was bad, the carb was gummed up and the throttle/choke didn't seem to be operating too well. I drained the carb and sprayed a ton of carb cleaner in. I replaced the air filter, but the spark plug looked in good condition. Still the engine wouldn't quite get up to speed. I poured out most of the old gas, and diluted down the rest with freshly pumped fuel. A bit better this time, but still just barely turning over. I was just about to concede that I just don't know enough about small engine maintenance when I decided to take a screwdriver to a sprung screw on top of the carb. The spring levered against the throttle link and the engine soared to life! If I'd thought of that earlier I could probably have saved myself an hour or so soaked in gasoline, but no matter: Now we were in business.


Chipping is fun. I love to chip, especially the really fat chunks of wood that almost kill the engine as they get eaten and subsequently spit out in neat chips. The cool thing about my chipper is you can feed the big limbs into one chute, and the smaller twigs, brush, leaves and anything else soft into another chute on the other side for shredding. I basically spent all day out in the yard feeding whatever I could find into the hungry jaws of the chipping dragon. I jammed it twice. The first time was with a short length of Crepe Myrtle branch. It wasn't very thick, but that stuff is hard, and it got wedged between the impelled and the housing. Taking the chute off isn't really a one man job, but where there's a will there's a way. Soon I was back making mulch, this time being more careful about chipping even the smaller branches. It wasn't long before I got over ambitious again and this time jammed the chipper. That was an easier fix, though, as the chipping chute is small and attached with fewer fasteners.


Saturday was a gorgeous day, and by the end of it I had about ten big buckets of mulch that I spread on my front beds. I was also completely covered in sawdust.

Duckpin

If you live in Richmond, please check out my future brother in law's blog to read about Duckpin bowling at Plaza Bowl. You NEED to know about Duckpin bowling.

Part 4 - "London, Baby!"

When the Friend's crew went to London back in 1998 they were too early for the London Eye. That's too bad from them, because it is easily one of the best things to do in a city that has a lot to offer. We made it our first stop after arriving at Waterloo station. The ride takes about half an hour, and by sheer luck the sun came out for that exact period, giving us a stunning view of the city. Despite the low clouds, we were still clearly able to make out the arch of Wembley Stadium. But the real treats are much closer by: Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament are right across the river. Buckingham Palace peeks from behind the trees at the end of St James' Park. Every time you turn around a new attraction has appeared as the wheel continues it's steady process. Since we only had a day in London, it was a great way to see as many sights as possible in a short space of time.


The sun stayed out long enough for us to walk across Westminster Bridge and get a closer look at the attractions around Parliament Square. By the time we had made our way into St James' Park, the heavy gray clouds had returned, and after our brief stop at Buckingham Palace, we walked back through the park in a snow shower. For Kristal a big highlight was the collection of rare wild fowl in the pond. They didn't seem to mind the cold, even though they were more often walking on the surface of the pond than swimming in it. The exotic ducks, geese and pelicans looked out of place in the snow, but were impressive all the same.


By the time we reached Trafalgar Square it was time for some lunch, and we ducked into a traditional pub on Whitehall for a bite to eat. As usual, the best thing about the meal was the beer. The food itself was hit (delicious sausage sandwich) or miss (dry, well done burger). At least we we able to warm up. Next we took a trip on the Tube to get to the Oxford St area, so that Kristal could visit Liberty of London, and experience the lavish fabric selection. I have to say, it was quite an experience for me too. I had never been in a department store that had an Oyster and Champagne Bar!


Another quick trip on the Tube brought us to St Paul's Cathedral, but our real destination was right across the river. Crossing the Millennium bridge to the south bank we headed into the cavernous main hall of the Tate Modern art gallery. The building itself is a work of art that trumps a lot of the modern art nonsense in the galleries, but I was exciting to see some really famous pieces "in the flesh". It's always a surprise to find out how big (or small) a painting you've seen in pictures a hundred times is. Matisse's Snail is huge, and so is Sea Roses by Monet. The video installations are as always deeply disturbing, but my favorite artwork was an entire room of silverware, silver plates and other silvery items like trumpets flattened with a steam roller and suspended a few inches above the floor on fishing line. The effect was mesmerizing, as small air currents generated as the crowd shuffled through would make the items swing almost imperceptibly.


Once we seen all the art we could take, we wondered down the South Bank a little ways, past the reconstructed Globe Theatre, hoping to experience Borough Market. It was closed. So, it was time for another ride on the underground. We ended up in Leicester Square, and tried to find somewhere to eat, but we didn't know what we were looking for and only had a little money left. Whilst we enjoyed meandering around the theater district, we had no luck finding a place that looked good for dinner, so we headed back towards Waterloo. However, I happened to know of a little strip behind County Hall that has a bagel shop, a sushi place and a noodle bar, and the thought of noodles captured our appetites.


Then it really was time to get back on the train, and before we knew it, we were back on a plane crossing the ocean and leaving wintry England behind. We had a blast, and will return. Sometime. Soon...ish.

Sick Leave

I almost achieved the great feat of blogging about my entire holiday on consecutive days, but unfortunately the illness that has been bugging me since my return finally caught up with me and I have been taking it easy in the evenings until I recover. In all honesty, I haven't been that sick, but I firmly believe that I suffer from the dreaded Man-flu, an apparently minor affliction that nonetheless renders me unable to perform any household chores, prepare food for myself, or locate medication without assistance from the amazing woman in my life.
In any case, I am not one who reaches for the pills at the first sign of a cold. It would seem to me that many medications treat the symptoms (headache, congestion, cough, etc) but do nothing to treat the cause (bacterial or viral infection), and speed recovery.
Still, to prevent me from taking out my frustration at being unwell on those around me, I will at some point reach for a random blister pack of caplets lying at the back of the medicine cabinet, covered in dust. On Tuesday my search produced a half-full box of Aleve, cold and sinus. These contain a mixture of Naproxen for the pain and fever, and Pseudoephdrine to relieve congestion.


Naproxen is a Non-Steroidal Anti-Inflammatory Drug (NSAID), which means it inhibits the Cycloxygenase (COX) enzymes that produce the biological substances called prostoglandins. This group of chemicals mediates inflammation (among many other things) and thus by blocking their production, NSAIDs reduce swelling and the associated discomfort. I couldn't find any evidence that Naproxen has any advantages over Ibuprofen. They have very similar chemical structure and appear to carry the same risks and benefits. Naproxen was developed almost twenty years after Boots Co. formulated Ibuprofen.
Psuedoephedrine (available on it's own as Sudafed) has a much more interesting chemistry, as it can be readily converted to Methamphetamine, the recreational drug.
Sudafed works by activating alpha-adrenergic receptors, having the effect of reducing swelling and mucus excretion in the nose and throat. The molecule has two chiral centers, which allows for four different configurations of the drug. Sudafed is comprised of (-)-Psuedoephedrine, where both chiral centers are in the left-handed configuration. It is this form that can be converted into the psychosimulant drug. Interestingly, Pfizer hold the patent for (+)-Psuedoephedrine (which when converted to methamphatamine is in a form not active on the central nervous system and found in Vick's inhalers), but for some reason they have decided not to produce and market the compound.
I didn't precisely follow the instructions on the Aleve packet. They prescribe "1 Caplet every 12 hours". I took 1 caplet. That was it. I prefer to rely on natural remedies.


Don't worry, I'm not about to proclaim that druidic formulations are more effective that pharmaceuticals. But a cup of lemon ginger tea makes me feel better, and doesn't come with the risk of stomach bleeding. I also occasionally wear a magnetic bracelet (by Bioflow), although I would struggle to explain why. I don't believe it has any specific physiological effect, but it didn't cost me much, and I like to keep people guessing.
Hopefully I will soon be well enough to conclude the tale of our adventures in England. Tonight I will be using the most powerful medication know to man: Chicken Noodle Soup. Complete recovery is almost guaranteed!

Part 3 - Brizzle

Our final major excursion was to Bristol, where Martha and Graham were holding their 'We ran away to Hawaii to get married' party. The family drove down early in the day so we could get in a spot of sightseeing. One of my favorite spot in probably the whole country is the Clifton Suspension Bridge. It always strikes me as exactly the right bridge for the setting, spanning the Avon Gorge. On one of the adjacent hills stands a camera obscura at the top of a short tower, and it's fun to go in and watch the cars crossing the bridge.
We were soon in need of some lunch, and the man manning the dark chamber suggested we find a pub in Clifton Village. We stumbled across the Portcullis, run by a friendly young chap who actually came out the front door to gain our custom. In the end, I'm not sure the fare was to everyone's liking, but I rather enjoyed the experience. As you may have guessed, this was because the barman served beers from small, local breweries. He had selected which varieties to have on tap and was able to recommend and talk knowledgeably to those of us to desired a fine ale.
After lunch we popped into the City Museum, which pretty much took care of all genres of history in a very small space. I took in some Natural History (including a hedgehog), Egyptian history and some ornately decorated pianos. They were also displaying the entries from a nature photography competition. The room was very crowded, and many of the pictures, while stunning, were your usual nature photography cliches. The standout for me was a shot of a lopsided mushroom in the rain. I think most people would have completely overlooked that mushroom, but the composition is great.


Having had our fill of sightseeing for the day, we checked in to the Travelodge and made ourselves pretty for the party. Well, we did our best considering the Travelodge was the grimiest place I've ever stayed in! We arrived at the hotel and met Martha, looking stunning but a little chilly in her wedding dress. Soon other family and friends began arriving and the party got started. Everyone was very interested to hear how I was getting on in America, and more importantly to meet my gorgeous fiancee. We had to spread ourselves thinly to get around everyone and still get some dancing in! It was great to see so many people again, albeit far too briefly in many cases.
We were treated to a short speech by the bride and groom, and the best man did a grand job of digging up some of Graham's embarrassing past, as is the British custom! Graham and Martha wowed us on the dancefloor, and will probably never live down the fact that their 'first dance' was to ABBA!
Soon the party was over, and ever the old folks had made it through to midnight. In the next installment: One final day in London before we bid farewell to Blighty.

Part 2 - Belly Dancing

When we got back to Reading, Martha and Graham had arrived chez Evens, having visited with his family oop North. We all went up to Henley-on-Thames to take a look around. Braving the cold, we took a walk down to the lock and weir, then strolled around the town and did a spot of shopping.



We stopped for a beer in Wargrave at the George and Dragon, which appeared to have changed owner again and got a complete facelift in the process. Still, they had some pretty decent beers on (although the local brew was tapped out to the disappointment of Graham and I - we both like to sample something brewed nearby when we can). After a round of drinks we headed on down to Twyford, where I used to live, to find a curry house. For some reason, Twyford has a large selection of Idian restaurants, the most famous of which (in my opinion), is the Gaylord. You wouldn't believe the places I've been where when I mention I lived in Twyford someone mentions the Gaylord. And not just because of the humorous name - lots of poeple rate it as one of the best Tandoori places around. So of course we had to try it.
It didn't start off too well. It smelled a bit funny, and the poppadoms didn't come with the cucumber/yogurt dip that I like. Still, we knew we were in for an authentic experience as we could understand a word the waiter was saying, nor did he comprehend us. Always a good sign. When the main dishes came out, they were excelent. Kristal sensibly opted for a mild chicken tikka masarla which was one of the best I'd ever tasted. I tried to find something middle of the road, heat wise, but it turned out slightly hotter than I'd anticipated. Delicious, though.
The best part came at the end of the meal. The waiter came round with two Baileys and two scotches, and when we tried to explain that we hadn't ordered any drinks he said, 'On the house'! Not only that, but the ladies got complimentary roses. So there you go: If you fancy a curry tonight, go to Gaylord. It's on the High St opposite Waitrose.
After a short stay in Reading it was time to hit the road again, this time down to Guildford, where I was at University. We left around dinner time on the 30th, and spent the evening at Corinne and Pete's flat, with almost all my old uni mates. Was great to see all you guys! We had a bit more fun that we had intended, so spent most of the next day resting in preparation for the big one in London.
It was awesome riding the limo up to London, mostly because it was really quick and we got dropped off right next to the restaurant. It was so quick that we were early for our booking, and we were a bit worried that we would have to go wait in another pub, but it turned out that they sent us straight to our table and started bringing the food out!



The restaurant was Moroccan themed and the food was out of this world. We had just about got done with the appetizers when the belly dancers came out for their first routine. This girl was clearly a professional - I mean it takes skill to shake your hips like that! I was happily enjoying the show (purely as an art form, you understand), when she beckons for me to join her on the floor. Well, some invitations one just can't refuse. Needless to say, I am not a professional. If you haven't seen the photos yet, they you must have been hiding in a cave, because people have been commenting on them since New Year's day when they hit facebook!
The rest of the night was basically awesome, just hanging out with some good friends, smoking the hookah, drinking extortionately priced cocktails and generally having a good time. The announcement that 2009 had arrived was a bit, err, non-existent, but somehow we got the message an engaged in the requisite kissing and hugging etc.
The next day we did a quick driving tour of Guildford High Street, UniS, the cathedral and most of the places I'd living during my studies there. Then is was time to head back to Reading once more. Next time: the "Main Event" - we celebrate the marriage of Martha and Graham.

England Part 1 - The Cotswolds

I slept for 12 straight hours last night. I was beginning to struggle as soon as I got in from work, but by the time dinner reached the table I couldn't keep my eyes open and had to retreat to Bedminster. Hopefully that took care of the jetlag.
Our first real expedition of the trip was to visit our friends Chris and Rowie in the Cotswolds. OK, actually not quite the Cotswolds, but everyone laughs at me when I enthusiastically mention Swindon. We visited Cirencester, an historic Roman town. We visited exactly none of the attractions from the Roman period, because it was Sunday and everything was closed. Really the most interesting thing we saw was St John's Parish church which was undergoing major renovation. In the afternoon we drove out to some smaller villages. Burford high street runs down a hill and is full of cute shops. We stopped in the country clothing store, where the only item we could afford was the possum fur willy warmers! In the sweet shop I found some adorable chocolate hedgehogs (they were also very yummy!). Kristal of course sought out the needlework shop...
Once it started getting dark we went back to the car and traveled to Lechlade for some local brews. The first pub we went into had just started their own range of microbrews, and although only one variety was yet available, it was delicious. The pub was very popular, and was definitely the authentic English pub experience, with open fires, agricultural implements stuck on every wall and a good crowd of locals enjoying fine ales.
The same could not be said of the next spot we chose. We were hoping to sample some of the beers from the Arkells brewery, which is big in that area. Unfortunately the pub we chose only had their basic beers on (not the seasonal ales we were hoping for), and they were absolutely disgusting! Up til now I don't think I've ever met a beer I didn't like. Sure, some have strong flavors that can be an acquired taste, but these ales smelled like vinegar and I was sure something must be wrong with them. I asked the barman (who by this point was tucking into a revolting chicken curry (the house specialty), but after a quick taste be assured me the 'musty' aroma was normal. None of us could stomach them and I was glad I chosen a cider.
On the way home we picked up a few bottles of the seasonal brews, a Christmas ale and an organic one which were both delicious.
The highlight of our trip to Swindon was definitely the food. On the first night we went round to the local fish and chip shop and picked up cod, chips, jumbo sausage, cornish pasty, mushy peas and garlic mayo. It was a huge feast, and for Kristal I think it was love a fist bite! It's definitely the best comfort food on a cold winter's night. Our second night there was bangers, mash and beans, to prove my point that sausages and baked beans in the UK are far superior to anything you can find stateside. Case closed.
Next time: I return to my university town, and we head into London for New Year's!

Evens Family Christmas

Our final act before departing from Dulles International Airport, Washington DC was to have one last Mexican! Terminal building restaurants are, ironically, interminable. We stopped in for a quick bite, but were left watching other diners (who had arrived after us) tuck into their meals. Eventually Kristal said something, and our cheese quesadillas were then quickly produced. The small discount offered by way of apology was, well, small. We tipped appropriately. Still, it was good preparation for the kind of service we could expect once on British soil!
Thanks to my imaginative planning, we arrived fresh from eight hours of no leg room and precious little sleep to a crisp Christmas Day dawning on the green hills of Berkshire. In fact, our flight had been very pleasant. I have to give credit to Virgin Atlantic, who did a great job on the food and drink. The cabin crew seem to have mastered the fine art of plying the clientele with booze while keeping us suitable hydrated: a careful balancing act that make the entire experience much more bearable.
Fortunately a sedate Christmas had been arranged at the Evens household. I lasted long enough to enjoy some kind gifts and festive foods, before completely and suddenly crashing into a deep sleep! I really don't remember what happened the rest of the day. I know I was woken in the early evening, and presumably further eating and making merry took place, but apparently my brain was in no state to form memories!
By Boxing Day we were sufficiently revived to take a trip to Windsor to see the Castle, the River, the green parakeets. We got a good taste of the type of weather we could expect over the next two weeks. You may notice that in all the photos we are peeking out from behind hats and scarves, doing our best to stay warm (although I recall only about two occasions that I really achieved that!).
Tune in next time to hear about our adventures in British food during our stay in the Cotswalds.

---

McKelvey Family Christmas.
Yes, I have noticed that there is one Christmas account missing from this Blog. No doubt the McKelveys are incensed that I've omitted them. Well, too bad! There just wasn't the time with all the packing and preparations going on. However, we had a wonderful time (I particularly enjoyed winning at the Applesapapples game), and if I'm completely honest the roast was probably the best food we had all season, and thus beat Grandma's Oyster stew (shame on you!). Y'all know where the photos'll be. Peace.

I was back in the UK. Sorry if you missed me!

We have just got back from a cold but very enjoyable holiday back on my home turf in the South of England. A huge thank you to all those who made our trip what it was. It was absolutely fantastic to catch up with so many friends and family. I have uploaded all the photos to flickr so go ahead and browse through them. Also expect more posts here detailing the highlights of our trip, of which there were many. However, we can honestly say that it feels great to be back home! Back to a nice soft bed instead of various futons; back to sunny winter's days in the high 40's; back to our precious, attention-starved kitty cat!
I worried that I would find England a strange, foreign land that I didn't understand anymore. On the other hand I feared that I would find I had been missing English things so much it would be painful when the holiday ended and I would have to leave again. But as it turned out, England hadn't changed that much. Sure, it was great to indulge in some true British cuisine, and fun to see the place again (both the usual tourist spots and the locations that only mean something to me), but there are no burritos and that clinches it for me.

Blake Family Christmas

Blake Family Christmas, originally uploaded by evens.john.

The photo's are up on my Flickr. One down, two to go. The Oyster stew is a hard act to follow!

I lied. There are several pictures from around my birthday that I want to share. I just hadn't taken them yet. On the left is our advent calender (expertly crafted by Kristal).


The most expert thing about it is that it is filled with Lindor truffles! Ithink there are five different varieties but we threw away the package and can't remember what the colors mean. One of them, we reckon the orange wrapped ones, are peanut butter flavor. I don't know why everyone insists on producing a peanut butter variety these days. Perhaps Reese's patent ran out. nevermind, all the other flavors are delicious.


I've always liked the fact that my birthday marks the start of advent. My mom kept up the tradition this year of giving me an advent greetings card on my birthday, which is perfect for me to display at work where a chocolate filled calender would contravene health and safety regulations!


This year, the procession through the calender windows also marks the countdown to are trip to England! Two weeks to go!



Since we won't be at home for Christmas, we are doing minimal decorating. However, I got these lights for cheap at Target the day of Halloween. I did a hopeless job of putting them up the first time, and they kept falling down and tangling up the screen door. On Black Friday I bought myself an early b'day present of a step-ladder, so I was able to hang them properly. Down the street there is a yard with the full compliment of inflatable winter festival characters, and they even blare out festive music. I also discovered a life sized Santa's sleigh and reindeer 'flying' in a beautiful arc a few feet off the ground of another neighborhood yard. I'f I can get a picture of it I'll post it up on Flickr.

On turning 25

Sorry for any readers who have been waiting for a post about my recent Birthday. As followers of this blog will know, I usually like to start off my posts with a photo or two, but for some reason there hasn't been much camera use lately. I completely failed to get any shots of our enormous Thanksgiving feast. Nothing much exciting happened on my birthday actual. Then in the happy chaos of celebrating my birthday AND engagement on Saturday with a night of bowling, the camera once again stayed in my coat pocket.
Since there are no pictures to display, I shall have to fall back on entertaining you all with scintillating prose. So what can I say about clicking over the quarter century mark?
The first thing that comes to mind is that my birthday marked exactly two and a half years since my arrival in this great land. I honestly can't believe it has been so long. Despite being now well integrated into society and having perhaps developed a passable urban Virginia accent, I still frequently feel like a foreigner. While undoubtedly my understanding of the American people has deepened immensely (especially after living through the longest Presidential Election in history with them) I know I will never be fully American. At twenty-five it so happens that I am probably as close as I ever will be to being truly half-and-half, not just by birth but in culture also.
Secondly, becoming engaged has certainly reversed my perspective on age. If there was any fear that I would start to feel old when I reached 25, that was all swept away when I put a ring on my young lady's finger. Now if anything I feel far too young to be taking such a grown up step. However, I'm certainly not too modest to say that I'm very proud of Kristal and myself for taking this step together, and the timing in both our lives feels though it could not have been better.
During a conversation at the bowling alley, we were pondering what age we might live to see. Somebody born at the end of the 19th Century would never have imagined they would live to be 115, but that is exactly what Maria de Jesus dos Santos has done. Who can how old the super-centenarians of the 22nd Century will be, and if any of us will be among them?

In case you haven't heard...

...Kristal and I will be getting married! For the full story on how this came about, head on over to Dawn Stiches.
We are both very happy, excited and in love. Thanks to everyone who has already passed on their message of congratulations.

Neuschwanstein Castle

We final finished this 2000 piece puzzle! We bought it to celebrate having a coffee table to do a puzzle on, so we must have started back at the end of September. The castle was completed fairly quickly, then it was slow going until I spent a couple of evenings tackling the sky. We took a long break around Halloween as the puzzle got moved into K's sewing room so we could entertain in the living room. Recently we returned it to pride of place on the coffee table and I have been grinding away on finishing the foliage. The last pieces slotted into place this evening, just in time to take it apart to make way for Thanksgiving!
The lesson here is, don't try to do a 2000 piece puzzle on a coffee table. It was the only design I really liked at Target, which is why we chose this one instead of a more sensible size. Of course when we got it home we discovered it wouldn't fit on the table! Luckily K had a table pad from her Grandmother that was only about a quarter inch short, and worked fine except that it folded in three so was never completely flat at the creases and was a pig to move...
I am accustomed to having enough flat space to lay out all the pieces and maybe have enough room to move them around, but since the puzzle didn't even fit we were stuck hunting through the box, picking out interesting pieces. Very frustrating. When I was working on the sky I was convinced I had all the blue ones, but it took another half dozen searches to eventually track them all down. For a time we used the box and lid to transfer pieces back and forth as we hunted. I found a big sheet of, er, something white and rigid, so I could lay some pieces out and organize them, which helped a lot. But yeah, next time we're getting the 250 piece puzzle that's a picture of kittens...

The Nat'l

The National is an old theater house that recent re-opened as a music venue. I was invited a short notice to go see Conor Oberst and Ben Kweller, and as my faithful reader will know, I need turn down an invitation to a random event. Besides, I'm completely out of touch with the local (and national) music scene.
Since none of us had been to the Nat'l before, we showed up shortly after the doors opened to make sure we didn't miss anything. And wasn't is lucky we did, or we wouldn't have been treated to Rig 1. My best guess would be to label them an Indie Rap Group, if that genre even exists. The front man reminded me of Dider Revol in Son of Ranbow. I wasn't totally convinced by an outfit that produces only a small portion of their music live (mostly Dider 'rapped' over a backing track with disorted fills from his guitarist and bassist), and his a cappella number was like being at some strange trippy poetry reading. At least they solved the question of whether I was going to drink or not. PBR on tap? Oh, why thank you...
They seem to have their game together at the National, because the wait between acts seemed refreshingly short. Before long, Ben Kweller came skipping on stage. At first I thought there had been some mistake. The voluminous dirty blonde curly hair; the denim vest; the cute as apple pie voice? There was no way this was a dude. But a dude he was, and proceeded to launch into a set of what I'm calling 'punk folk' for want of a better description. For me the star of the show was pedal steel, played by an older gentleman in thick black-rimmed glasses (my associates disagreed). Basically the whole experience was making me think I was in Greenville in 1973, but what the hey.
After Ben had warmed us up it was onto the main event. Advertised as Conor Oberst and the Mystic Valley Band, I was expecting something along the lines of Newgrass, but was way off!
Again, words fail to really describe the odd arrangement of musicians assembled on stage. Perhaps this is the truest use of the term Indie. There wasn't really a band on stage, rather several individuals playing in concert. The most individual of them all was Conor himself who fits neatly into the category of arrogant prick. Technical prowess was hard to come by from any member of the group, who seemed to be centered around Conor's poetic lyrical meanderings. Personally I much preferred when he let one of the other band members take a song.
Well, some of the tunes were likable enough, and three PBRs in I was ready to get my groove on, which brought disparaging remarks about the quality of English dancing from my acquaintances. Most of the rest of the crowd stood there with their arms crossed, but clearly they were enjoying themselves more than they were expressing, as the calls for an encore were energetic and appreciative.
The band returned after just enough time for a few rounds of shots chased with a beer. After a few more numbers indistinguishable from the rest of the set, Conor invited Ben out on stage, announcing that this was Ben's last date on the tour with them. Ben, who had clearly spent the entirety of the headliner's set with a bottle of Jim Beam, staggered on stage for a rendition of Kodachrome, which they made a good job of, actually. After this point I don't really remember a lot of the music. Ben and Conor were climbing all over the stage equipment, kicking over drinks and throwing mics around. Conor tried to skip rope with the microphone lead, but got it tangled, first on Ben's guitar, then on a mic stand, before finally making a full rotation and drawing disproportionate applause from a highly entertained audience.
So, in the end a good time was had by all. It was just what I needed as an antidote to a crap week. I'm not hurrying out to buy their latest records, but they sure know how to put on a show, so Kudos to Ben and Conor.

Paying for Medicine

One of the interesting things to come out of the campaign debates was a tangible fear among Republicans of 'Socialized Medicine'. Of course, to me this seems completely back to front - I had been assuming that Americans unanimously wished they could be like almost all of the rest of the civilized world and receive free public healthcare. To me, the concept of having to pay was totally alien and rather offensive at first. But now that I've had a few experiences with the American health system, I'm beginning to understand the argument a little better.
My first encounter was almost totally negative. I took a trip to the ER, which turned out to be completely unnecessary, but cost me $150. Luckily they never billed me for the Ambulance ride. But this event highlights two of the biggest problems in my mind with how the system works.
Firstly, treatment is not offered conditionally based on price. That is, you're never asked "Would you like this treatment (it will be $100)?". It is assumed that you want whatever treatment is best for you, and that you will pay with bill no matter the amount. Where else do middle class people make choices on those terms. At a restaurant, you decide whether to order the lobster partly based on the price of the dish.
Secondly, if you have insurance, you know they're trying to screw you somehow. It is virtually impossible to tell what you'll have to pay for until they send you the bill.
I was also very disappointed by the level of service at the ER. They weren't busy, and I guess I felt that since I was paying to be here, I should be treated like a hotel guest!

Anyway, my recent trip to the doctor was much more positive. Don't worry, there's nothing wrong with me! But it's about time I began regular check-ups, and I've been putting it off simply because I had no idea where to begin. In England, it seems so simple. You find you nearest GP, and go there. But here you have this wonderful thing called choice, which makes things impossibly complicated. Again, there is so much information out there, but so little of it is made readily available to the 'consumer', so having to make an educated choice is a complete headache. In the end, I discovered the secret shortcut: Ask someone at work who their doctor is - then you know that you'll be covered by insurance and you get a personal recommendation.

Going to the Doctor (by contrast to the ER) seemed like the deal of the century! For $25 I got one-to-one attention. When I go back for a 45 minute physical exam, again it's just $25! The people are friendly, and I felt like i was being treated with the respect that a paying customer deserves. I think the euphoria is mostly relief of knowing that I have somewhere to go now if I fall seriously ill. And really, the healthcare is only cheap so long as your healthy! Once you need regular treatment, it quickly become a whole different story. Perhaps it's good, as it encourages preventative measures.

"Change has come to America"

No, I didn't stay up to find out the outcome of the election. This morning was quite soon enough, and it was worth waiting just to avoid listening to the delusional babble of the news networks. Besides, once Ohio had gone into the Blue column, the result seemed almost inevitable. Nor can I say I was interested in wild celebrations regarding the appointment. Sure, I think the right man won, but my relationship with politics is intellectual rather than emotional. And while I'm far from Anarchistic, I try to live as independently from the government as I can. That is to say, whatever decisions Mr Obama makes, I'm sure there will be an avenue for me (and anyone else) to prosper.
In any case, from what I here of the reactions of important people, there seems plenty of room for optimism. There have been a lot of people saying that McCain's concession speech was superior to Obama's acceptance oration, but I'd have thought it obvious to anyone that it is easier to be graceful in defeat than victory, especially in what is essentially a popularity contest. Saying, "The other guy would've done just as good a job" is no way to either thank your supporters or reach out to the opposition. I've also heard a lot of comments that if McCain had expressed himself throughout the election like he did at the very end, he would've been a candidate they could vote for. Well, that's the point, isn't it? John McCain isn't an infinitely gracious man, and the mean streak he frequently showed during the campaign marked him as second best.
Bush says he'll make the handover as smooth as possible, which is probably the only sensible thing he's said in 8 years. Really the best thing about the outcome for me is that what it will do for America image to the rest of the world. Perhaps I can dare to show some pride of my American half when I return to the UK.

Election Day!

To the surprise of a few of my colleagues (who still haven't exactly worked out how I possibly got here) I am in fact eligible and, as a responsible citizen, registered to vote in the USA. Thus it came to pass that Kristal and I ventured out on a rainy November morning to cast our votes. We are in the 106th precinct and our polling station is the local High School. The polls open at 6am, but we decided to wait for the rush of super-keen voters to die down, and give ourselves a few extra minutes in bed. I think we arrived around half-seven. For some reason the USA doesn't see fit to give it's electorate a public holiday once every four years for the general election, but I was allowed two hours of the work day to do the business.
Lucky, really, because voting wasn't exactly a speedy as I had dared dreamed. We did avoid the rush, according to a few people who had witnessed lines snaking around the building. Fortunately we were at least able to queue inside, out of the rain. We arrived, and I guess the guy at the front door hadn't been told that the crush had died down, as we were sent on a looping tour of the school corridors, only to arrive inside a door right behind the guy who had directed us! So far, off to a bad start.
After a few minutes in the queue, an election official came down the line calling for surnames Emm thru Zee to come forward, so Kristal dutifully went on and got her ballot ticket. However, there was apparently some hold up for the A-E crowd. By the time I got near the front of the queue, Kristal was done voting. So were her Sister and Brother-in-law, who had arrived about a quarter-hour after us! Kristal offered me her crossword puzzle, but I was being entertained by a gentleman who had graduated from this very High School in 1976, and would love to tell us all about it...
Finally I got to the table where they check your name on the register and give you the ballot ticket. The table was divided into four sections, alphabetically by surname, and the three sections from F onwards were empty. For whatever reason I was standing at the A-E section with 50 increasingly irate voters behind me. The reason appeared to be that one person with an A-E surname had arrived earlier, but their eligibility to vote was in doubt. Rather than take the problem aside, well meaning ladies of the Librarian caste were continually interrupting the A-E checkers with inadequate explanations of what was happening. The A-E checkers would then have a leisurely debate about whether it was OK to cross out an entry on the register or not. Neither could quite remember this being covered in the evening class. Eventually they realized that they needed to sort this out later - right now the priority was to process the stern young man standing in front of them who looks like he's about to knock their heads together.
After I got my ballot ticket, it was relatively smooth sailing. I had to wait in another line for a while, and somehow they had designed they queuing system so that the two lines crossed each other, but they had about 10 voting stations, so thing moved along nicely. You exchange you ballot ticket for a place at a touchscreen computer, and somebody helpfully informs you that you need to press the big red 'VOTE' button that shows up at the end for your ballot to count. Then your done!
All-in-all it wasn't that terrible. I mean, obviously there is no reason to keep a large fully trained staff for an event that occurs but once in four years. It can't be easy to arrange for an estimated 3.5 million Virginia voters to cast their ballot in 13 hours. It reminds me of sitting school exams. As you sit their watching the poor teacher fumble around with the sealed envelopes of papers, trying to follow some arcane regulation, you think to yourself, "You better not mess this up, because if you do I might not get a grade, and I've worked too damn hard!" Likewise, you enter the polling station, look around at the usual voluntary sector crew, and think, "You better not foul this up, because the vote in Virginia could mean something this time". We'll know soon enough.

New lights in the Kitchen

Ever since we moved in, the light level over the sink has been terrible. Well, that's the excuse we use for rarely doing the washing-up! Now that it's getting darker in the evenings, the problem is only worsening. A couple of weekends ago we took a trip to Lowe's to find some kind of light fixture that might improve our situation. I measured the length of wire we would need to reach a socket, and we had fairly clear criteria in mind: We must be able to turn it on and off easily while standing at the sink; it must cast enough light from the ceiling to give us a bright working environment; and we needed to install it without causing too much damage to the (rental) house - so no chasing the walls to tap into the house's wiring.

For once we found the required department of the home improvement store right away. Usually it is a painful process just to get yourself in the vicinity of whatever you're looking for, but the lighting dept. was pretty obvious! However, we weren't having much luck meeting our expectations for a kitchen light. The under-counter lights seemed like the right idea, but they were rather dim and we would need to extend the cord and have some kind of switch...wait - they have those extension cords with switches on, don't they?
After a good half-hour of attempting to cobble together a neat solution with components we thought a good electrics dept ought to have, we finally sought out a store employee for some further advice. We were politely pointed in the direction of a retired electrician, who was more than happy to wonder around the aisles, pulling a plethora of products from the shelves and offering a variety of solutions that still didn't quite sound like they would work out how we'd planned. Sadly, despite his enthusiastic support, we left empty handed, planning to re-evaluate the possibilities rather than take an arm-load of goodies home and rig up a bodge job.
It happened that Kristal's parents came to visit over the weekend, and we were discussing the conundrum with her Dad. As usually seems to happen, it wasn't long before he recalled that he had just what we needed back home in a shed somewhere, and he'd be happy to take a look for it and send it along to us. Thus on Tuesday, the perfect little light bar arrives, with two spots that take regular bulbs. I scrounged a couple of screws from my toolbox that seemed made for the job at hand, and had it installed in minutes. The only problem was turning the lights on and off, without having to take the plug out every time. I headed back to the hardware store for a clicker-wheel switch.

Now, I done a fair amount of tinkering with British electrics (yes, I was one of those kids who took everything apart), so I assumed it'd be plain sailing to fit a simple in-line switch. As it turns out, I had no clue what I was meant to do with this tiny thing. The answer, of course, was to find one in the house that was already assembled, dismantle it and see how it goes back together. Apparently, the neutral wire runs straight through the switch housing, and just the live gets cut, the blunt ends kinda wedged in. When you reassemble the housing, copper spikes piece the sheathing on the cut ends of the live wire to complete the connection through the clicker wheel. I was rather impressed with the simple elegance of it, as I had planned to have to strip wire-ends and insert them into impossibly fiddly connectors.

Anyway, it you want to see some photos, head over to my flickr page. Mostly we are re-enacting for the camera, but you get the idea. It really brightens up the place a lot, and does it neatly and safely, which is soothing to my ever-so-slightly-OCD-tendencies. In fact, the two 15W energy saving (60W equivalent) bulbs are so bright I've had to point them at the ceiling!

Thanks Don!

Herbs (the 'H' is Silent)

Herbs 003, originally uploaded by evens.john.

The 'erbs needs to be rescued from the front bed last week. Grass and weeds had completely choked them, but once they were dug out I was please to find that they were all in pretty good shape. Once we had them safely transferred to one of the square gardens, I dug out the remaining sunflower stumps, pulled the weeds and put some mulch down. Hopefully we can get a few bulbs in there for the spring.

Coffee Table

Coffee Table, originally uploaded by evens.john.

I believe in enriching my stay in the USA by partaking in activities enjoyed by the everyday American. This weekend I experienced another all-American, down-home, good-ole-boy pastime; browsing yard sales. I've been on the lookout for a coffee table on Craigslist for several weeks, but none of my enquiries were ripening into deals. We wanted a simple wooden table, and it seemed mostly likely that we find one sitting out on someone's front yard on a Saturday morning. I tried to be authentic as possible, so I donned sweatpants and climbed into the truck. However, to avoid buying a ton of crap, we would crawl by each yard, and if no coffee table was apparent, keep on moving! I had a list of about six sales, and the addresses, but we quickly put the list aside and just followed the signs as we saw them. Yard sales are everywhere! We probably drove past five or six spots, all tucked away in cute neighborhoods that we would never have any other reason to visit. Despite having no luck finding our desired item, we were having a lot of fun. Finally we found what we we looking for, and picked up a coffee table and side table for the princely sum of twenty bucks. The worst did almost happen when a little person started grilling us about dog ownership, and began suggesting several other items we might like to take off his hands. Luckily, we managed to avoid both admitting we don't own a dog without breaking the facade of all-Americanism, and buying more random household goods.

A bit of a sanding, and a lick of stain, and we have a rather fetching set of rustic looking tables!

You Can't Take it With You

Are you sitting comfortably? Then I'll begin. As I've often said about blogging: Either nothing interesting is happening or I'm so busy with blog-worthy activities that there is no time to write. I now have a backlog of recent events to publish on the web, beginning here with a trip to the playhouse.

You can blame 250+ cable channels for the fact that young people don't go out to see plays anymore. I can't say that I'll go out of my way in search of amateur dramatics, but there's something about the words 'free tickets' that piques my interest. So my Grandparents had a couple of spare tickets to a play. On an army base. The driver would be here at seven. Were we interested?

I stared the gift-horse straight in the face - and blinked first. How bad could it possibly be? The details were hazy, but would you believe it was the best offer we had for our Friday night! Thus we departed for Fort Lee (just outside Petersburg) to see the local Morale Welfare and Recreation Theater Company, and their production of Hart and Kaufman's You Can't Take it With You.

Perhaps to continue the theme of having absolutely no idea what we were getting ourselves in for, we took our seats without picking up a programme. I detest programmes, and the way everyone sits there with their noses stuck in them until the curtain goes up. A glance around the auditorium confirmed that we were easily the youngest members of the audience (with the exception of another couple just a few rows away, who turned out to be friends of ours!). Minutes into the play we began to wish we had the programme. What the blazes was this foolishness all about? The jokes were so awkward it was like it had been written in the 1930s or something!

OK, it turns out it was written in the '30s. How was I to know?! However, by the intermission we were still none the wiser. A whole family of insane characters had been introduced, followed by more characters, then more...the doorbell would ring every two minutes, and here would be some other acquaintance, stopping by to add to the confusion. We took heart from discovering that the more seasoned theater-goers accompanying us were jest as baffled. Refreshments were definitely called for, and the army clearly knew how to make you feel welcome. Wine was $1.50 a glass! Perhaps a swift drink would bring the insanity into focus.

The second half got rolling, and pieces started falling into place. The daughter of this free-thinking family was engaged to the son of a high-flying Wall Street Banker. Could the two families ever see eye-to-eye? Probably not, is the answer, especially after the Feds burst in a cart the entire cast off to Jail for the night! I predicted that the play would conclude with a philosophical monologue by the Grandpa, but instead we were treated to a dialogue between the Grandpa and the Wall Street Banker, with interjections from a house-guest who happened to be the cousin of the deposed Russian Tsar (and cafe waitress)! It probably spoke louder in it's time, but had an uncanny resonance considering the current turmoil on Wall St. Most importantly, it turned out to be warmly entertaining, and executed with a genuine enthusiasm that tends to exude from amateur groups. My favorite part was probably when the Russian dance instructor informs the Wall Street man that he has the perfect build for wrestling, then immediately leaps across the the room, tackles the unsuspecting banker and pins him to the floor to prove his point. Physical comedy is timeless!