It's Thursday

As of today, our rally for refugees is cancelled. I didn't want to announce it, because so many people laughed to begin with. We cancelled it because it was ineffective and inefficient, because all the people collected together in a tiny space that should be anything BUT apathetic...gave no response. 11 is not a lucky number and our banners are not that impressive. I am not discouraged in a defeatist kind of way. I know it is only temporary and I know it is not a vapid or a self-righteous cause.

All I want to do is to go to a refugee camp for a week. I may have to include flight time because I don't have that many vacation hours and some of them are going to Bonnaroo. In the meantime, while we're confessing, I am STILL writing thank you notes, cleaning up from the flood of 2011 and trying to keep my husband fed... even if it's subjecting myself to watching him eat PB&J, apple sauce and chips.

I would love my job if all the Americans didn't get in the way...it distracts from the illusion that I really am in my clients' world.

I'm Missing Home

I just want to blitz something, drink tea, eat toast, share the kettle, resent Dr. Who, listen to seagulls as white noise, wake up to the sea, eat cheese, sketch dead reptiles, listen to ridiculous Scottish renderings of David Bowie, walk past a castle to class, have a campfire, go to the pub for quiz night, walk the pier, trick the short loan system at the library, save up for a fundraiser cupcake or popcorn trip, Tesco traffic, the bookstore brows on the way home, my breakfast tray that made exams ok, fighting over intellectual property, tiny dogs, French kitchens, flying, trains, stations, take-away, fried, glorious, unforgettable Scotland.

But not RyanAir and not that shower.

This first post is dedicated to Paige, Tom, Stephane, and Jessica.