Supergirl!

Frankie's new haircut

Sassy!

Good morning, Baltimore!

This is me, dressed up like Tracy Turnblad from Hairspray. I love, love, love Halloween costumes.

Happy Halloween!

Settling in, squeezing in

It was one thing to haul nine suitcases through the airport. Unpacking them and finding a place for all of the stuff has been another thing entirely. Even before we walked through the door with all of the suitcases, the house was totally at capacity. Stuffed to the gills. Every shelf, every surface, every drawer is absolutely full. The only closet in the house, the one in the master bedroom, is so full that the closet rod literally snapped when I started putting the packed clothes back on it.


So, I’ve spent the last few days trying to get everything put away and organized. I cleaned out as many of the spaces as possible, and took a carfull of stuff to Goodwill. Almost all of the suitcases are unpacked now, and things are about as organized as they can possibly be at this point. As long as nobody gets anything out of a drawer or cabinet and Frankie doesn't haul out any of her toys, it looks pretty good in here. Still, one thing has become absolutely clear:

We need a new house. Immediately.

I’ve been really attached to our Colorado house, and have always felt that it would be hard to let it go. After living in the huge, wonderfully spacious, closet-filled Kirkborough House, it’s been really hard to transition back to living in this teeny tiny house. This house is about a third as big as the Kirkborough House, and Matt and I are both really feeling the difference. He misses his study. I miss the stairs and the second level. I don’t think we’re going to be able to live in our Colorado house for much longer. We need more space, not just for our stuff, but for ourselves. It's getting pretty claustrophobic in here.

So, here’s the plan:

We’re going to get a storage pod, box all of the unnecessary things up and put them in the pod. We’ll get rid of some of the clutter, clear out the garage/bunker, and get the house ready to go on the market. I’m going to talk to a realtor next week, and get the ball rolling. Hopefully, we can sell our house by the spring. Hopefully.

The process of moving *again* is a little overwhelming, but it’s definitely the right thing to do. And I’m actually really excited about finding a new house. I just wish I could snap my fingers and have it all happen instantly, like magic.

Future of the blog

When I started up This Transplanted Life, I was thinking that it would be a great way to chronicle our UK adventure and keep in touch with far away friends and family. I’ve really loved writing the blog, and it has given me a really great creative outlet during the roller coaster ride of the last few months.


Now that we’re home and not technically “transplanted” anymore, I’ve been thinking a lot about what to do with the blog. Do I finish it up, or keep going? Day-to-day life here is so much more settled, I don’t think that the posts will be as interesting as they were in the UK. I mean, who wants to hear about my errands to the post office? Hearing about trips to Ireland and Scotland is so much more interesting.

Still, I don’t like the thought of ending the blog. Even here, home, I think it will be good to have a place to keep track of my thoughts. And heck… when isn’t life at least a little “transplanted”? We have lots of big changes coming up, and this will be a good place to talk about them.

So, the blog stays. Hope you’ll stay, too.

We're home!

We made it home last night around 10pm. I was exhausted, cranky, and sick to death of being shoehorned into a teeny tiny airplane seat.

After a good night's sleep and a shower, I feel much better. Still, I really hope it’s a good long time before I have to take another flight.

The amount of luggage we hauled home with us was massive. In total, we traveled with:

8 big suitcases

3 backpacks

2 carry-ons

2 laptops

1 carseat

It was almost an embarrassing amount of luggage. Thank goodness we had help dragging it all through the airport. In Manchester our taxi driver gave us a hand, and in Denver Matt's parents were a huge help. (Not only did they meet us at baggage claim, but they also drove a load of our suitcases all the way back to Fort Collins for us. Saints, they are.)

My least favorite part of the trip was when we landed in Philadelphia. For some reason, they have it set up in Philly so that all international arrivals have to pick up their checked luggage off the carousel and re-check it again for the domestic flight. This means having to go through the whole circus from scratch a second time: security checks, body scans, x-rays, the works.

I was so not excited to be reunited with all 8+ suitcases again in Philly, only to have to check them in yet again. Fortunately we got a skycap to help us maneuver through the airport, but it was still a massive pain in the arse.

When finally got home, all I wanted to do was flop down in my warm and comfy bed. The bed was comfy all right, but warm... Not so much. While we were gone, something in our furnace died. So, no heat for us. The furnace guy is down there right now, working up an $800 fix. Not exactly an ideal Welcome Home, but what can you do?

Frankie is napping right now, and I'm torn between:

a) hoping that she wakes up soon so that we can try to get back on a reasonable schedule

and

b) hoping that she stays asleep for a long time so I can get a moment to myself

She's been a little nutty today. She woke up at 3am, wide awake and demanding breakfast. Fortunately, Matt was ready to wake up too, so the two of them had a little nocturnal hang-out session. Like a couple of raccoons. Matt even took Frankie to the all-night grocery store at 4am to stock up on supplies. Matt said that he was getting the stink eye from passers-by, like he was the worst dad in the world for dragging a 5-year-old out in the middle of the night to go grocery shopping. He had to explain to the checkout clerk that Frankie was jetlagged, not forced awake against her will. Kind of cracks me up, though, what other people must have thought of him having her out that late.

At the moment, I'm doing a pretty good job getting us acclimated back to the US. I had the cable set up this morning, the furnace is being fixed at the moment, I got my cell phone turned back on, the mail service restarted, the garbage service set up, and a whole load of worn-out and outgrown clothes bagged up and loaded in the car for a Goodwill run.

So far, so good! (Well, except for the furnace thing. That really sucks.)

The sun sets on our UK trip

...and in a fitting tribute, the sunset was absolutely beautiful this evening.

Frankie says goodbye to her school friends

The end is nigh...

I originally thought that I'd spend my last week in England visiting all of my favorite spots and saying a leisurely goodbye. That hasn't actually gone according to plan. Instead, I've been spending the whole week packing like a fiend-- Shoving things into suitcases and giving away all the stuff that won't fit. I've been driving round and round the village dropping off rugs, tables, chairs, and all the other things that can't come with us. Everyone's been so kind and appreciative. It makes me feel a little like Santa. Oh, sorry. Like Father Christmas.

I've gotten quite a few really sweet cards and going-away gifts from some of my friends out here. My favorite one was from my friend Jackie, who thanked me for "bringing a little more color into her life." I thought that was a pretty nice compliment.

We're down to the wire, though. Every single suitcase is packed to its maximum capacity: 50 pounds. (48, just to err on the safe side.) I still have no idea how we're going to be able to navigate the airport with all of this stuff. And how Matt thinks he's going to be able to squeeze all of us and our luggage in his Saab for the ride home from Denver is a mystery to me. I hope the inside of the Saab is built a little like one of those clown cars, where the inside seems to magically hold way more than the outside would suggest.

So... Farwell England. Goodbye Kirkborough House. I'll never forget this adventure. It seemed pretty crazy at the time, but had turned out to be one of the best decisions ever.

Disco fever!

I thought my heart would explode with the adorable awesomeness of watching Frankie dancing up a storm to "Thriller." Best Halloween party ever! Bubble machine...a DJ...hot dogs...strobe lights....fog machine.... Does it get any better?



Last day of school

Saying Goodbye

Today is Frankie's last day at school, and I'm feeling sad.

Sad Keanu

Sad Don Draper

It's been harder than I thought it would to say goodbye to the moms I've made friends with out here, and all of the cards and hugs they gave me this morning made me break down in an embarassing and uncharacteristic show of tears.

Frankie seems ok this morning, but yesterday in the car on the way to school she sang an epic song all about leaving England that featured the following phrases:

"Why do I deserve this?"
"I'll never see my best friends again."
"Maybe someday I'll be happy."

Totally broke my heart. Which was probably exactly what she was trying to do.

Anyhow, today she's much better than I am. She actually seems excited to get back to Colorado, citing the fact that Colorado will be "Layla free." I'm excited to get back home, too. But the goodbyes are just plain hard. I can't stop myself from thinking morose thoughts everytime I do even the simplest task: This is my last trip down The Went.... I'll never see the Post Office again... that's the last pasty I'll ever eat.... etc, ad nauseum.

It's just weird to think that this place that's been a second home to me will be erased completely from my daily life. I'll never be here again. Weird.

Boo!

Frankie dressed up like a skeleton for her school's Halloween dance tonight. (They called the dance a "disco," which I think is adorable.)

When we got home from the party, Frankie wanted to keep wearing her skeleton outfit. When Matt got home, she decided that she wanted to scare him-- You know, like a spooky skeleton would.

Frankie squeezed herself in one of the small cabinets under the sink (a space that, from the outside, I would deem far too small for a human), and hid quietly until Matt came into the kitchen. I was making dinner, and lured Matt into her trap by asking him to grab me some tongs from under the sink.

He opened the cabinet door and started to reach for the nonexistent tongs, but Frankie was all curled up inside, dressed in black and barely visable. Then Frankie ever so slightly moved.

Matt yelled, "JESUS!!!!" and jumped halfway across the kitchen, scrambling away. As Frankie climbed slowly out of the cabinet, and it took Matt's brain a few seconds to process that it was his daughter under there, not some horrific Sink Gnome.

Hilarity. I thought I'd never stop laughing. Oh, how I wish I had it all on tape.

Matt's normally so darn unflappable, impossible to scare. It was awesome. Frankie really got him.


Matt was a really good sport about it, and laughed with us about it afterwards. His heart had to be racing, though. And I wouldn't be surprised if he were in his den at the moment, plotting revenge.

Of course, since I'm totally easy to scare (Matt makes me scream at least once a week just by quietly entering the room behind me on his dainty, silent, lady-feet), I am OFF LIMITS for retribution. I'm too easy a mark.

What do you think....

...of my new haircut?

I can't straighten it myself, because I'm way too uncoordinated. So, by the time any of you see me in person, I'll be curly again. But still, it's a fun change, no?

Belfast

We go native: Guinness and Bushmill's whisky.

The first thing I should say about Northern Ireland is that, in my experience at least, the people we met were all very kind, friendly, and welcoming. They’re not friendly in an overbearing how am ever I going to escape this conversation? kind of way, either. Just very warm, thoughtful, and lovely.


For example:

We got a little turned around in the Belfast city center, and needed to ask directions to the St. George market. We asked a gruff-looking man on the street, leaning on a building and smoking a cigarette. As soon as we asked him for help, he not only explained how to get to the market, but very helpfully walked us down the street to the intersection we needed and pointed us in the right direction. Everyone was like that: Bus drivers, bartenders, store clerks, people on the street, you name it. It was a very friendly, hospitable place where we always felt welcome wherever we went. It was a real change from the north of England where the people honestly seem to be a bit guarded and wary of strangers.

The next thing I’ll say about Belfast is that in retrospect I now realize that it’s a very odd choice for a vacation destination. Belfast isn’t a dangerous place anymore, but the city is still deeply scarred from “The Troubles.” Bombings and shootings were pretty common in Belfast up until about ten years ago, and the city is still trying to pick itself up and rebuild. As we took a tour around the city, you could see the beautiful old buildings mixed in with vacant lots where buildings had been destroyed and cleared away, mixed in with tons of new construction. The peace wall that divides the Protestant and Catholic parts of the city is still there, and political murals about the IRA, bombings, and so forth are on nearly every corner. Still, despite the fact that the city was once so divided, Belfast seems to be recovering. It’s a ‘cautiously optimistic’ vibe, where you see that there’s a real commitment to rebuilding and healing the community.

Still, driving around the city feels a bit like visiting a war zone.

That said, I’m very glad that we went to Belfast. I learned a lot about the city’s political history from the trip, and saw a city that was really like no other city that I’ve ever seen before: Industrial, urban, haunted, and forward-thinking. The city center was a really hip place, too: Tons of cool boutiques, vintage shops, and fancy restaurants. I went to at least six different vintage shops on Saturday, each one quirkier and more fantastic than the next.

An embarrassing confession: Before I went to Belfast, I didn’t even actually realize that Northern Ireland is an entirely separate country from Ireland. I feel like kind of an idiot. Whenever I used to hear something about “Northern Ireland” on the news, I just assumed that they meant it in a descriptive way, like the north part of Ireland. But no. Northern Ireland and Ireland are separate, much like Virginia and West Virginia. How could I have not known that?

Me = Duh. Makes me realize that I still have a lot to learn about the rest of the world.

Here are some of the pictures from the Belfast part of the trip.

This is the ferry we took across the sea, three hours to Belfast.

The inside of the ferry was kind of swanky. It had shopping, a movie theater, food service, a nice lounge, and free snacks and drinks. Sounds a bit like air travel, but it was way better. The seats were comfy and it was a really relaxed way to travel. (The lack of metal detectors, xrays, and full-body friskings was a real bonus.)

One of the many sad vacant lots (read: bombing sites) outside the city center.

Contrasted by the very lovely Queen's College, right in the city center.

Victoria Square

Frankie, chillin' on Merchant Street

"Living statues." Less than, greater than, or equal to mimes? Discuss among yourselves.



Clock tower, falling over just like the Leaning Tower of Pisa.

Here a few of the best/most iconic murals I snapped:



Bobby Sands

This political mural is on the side of a Subway restaurant. Weird contrast.

Harbor fountains

Fall colors in the city

Tour bus!

City gal!

Frankie, eating mussels. (This girl won't eat pizza, but mussels? Can't get enough.)

Outside the Parliment building

City Hall

The last few pictures are of "The Salmon of Knowledge." No joke, that's it's name. It's an iconic Belfast landmark-- A statue of a gigantic fish. Legend says that if you kiss the fish, you'll get smarter. Must work at least a little, because after kissing the fish, Frankie counted to SEVENTY. (Prett good, eh?)

It was actually really cute. After hearing the tour guide talk about The Salmon of Knowledge, Frankie couldn't wait to go over and kiss it. She was soooo excited, and couldn't stop talking about it. Even after she kissed the big fish, she told literally everyone that she passed (on the street, in the bus, at the hotel) what she had done, and how she already felt smarter. Adorable.

Did The Big Fish make me smarter? Only time will tell...