Although…

 What is WITH the accompanist? What is his deal? The Sacrament hymn was beautiful as he played it, and it was also incredibly distracting (particularly the key change on the third verse). Does he expect no one to sing the parts? Does he not know, for all his apparent skill on the piano, that it is very hard to sing parts when there is random accompaniment all over the place? Anyone in the congregation with perfect pitch must have been going NUTS with the key change and knowing the notes on the page no longer matched what they heard. Or is the fancy impromptu arrangement his way of making the singers concentrate more on the words, since they couldn’t follow the written notes anymore?

Is he being deliberate, or just having fun? Obliviously, delightedly, talentedly, jackassedly having fun?

Argh.

ETA: Next post - Sunday wanderings in a crazy cemetery. Well, not that crazy. And not specifically limited to Sunday; that’s just when I happened to be there. Lots of picture, lots of thoughts. 

Church Is Wild, Y’All

 Caught a bus, made it to church on time, super proud of myself. Also forgot it was May 1st and, therefore, Fast Sunday, and had yogurt before leaving the house (but not the candy bar - Bounty! - in my bag). Slightly less proud of myself, but not cranky. So.

The meeting was a little bit crazy. The accompanist is highly talented and overdramatic; it’s not a BAD thing to play the hymns as written! People can sing the parts to the music when you do! (FYI, floppy-haired drama piano dude.) One of the first testimonies was from an older gentleman (my age? Urgh) with a fantastic beard who talked like a preacher from the early 1900’s. I’m fairly certain that one is not meant to preach to or ‘exhort’ the congregation while bearing testimony. Love the British accent, though. A slightly more confusing accent was up next; he looked like a Spaniard and greeted us in Spanish but his English bore traces of Scottish (verified when he talked about dedicating the ground to bury his father’s ashes in the garden of his mother’s house in Scotland). Great story: he talked about how this experience showed him his family is afraid of inspiration, and testified that following the Spirit is actually a revolutionary concept. The things we take for granted are definitely strange and new, sometimes!

Then an elderly man in a motorized wheelchair came up the aisle, shoved a stroller out of the way that was (literally) in the spot he wanted to ‘park’ in next to a bench, and proceeded to run over a little girl’s foot (twice) while trying to navigate the chair to where he wanted it. He had no idea - at least not until she started wailing. He caught on at that point.

An earnest young man said, as part of his testimony: “I believe in righteousness.” I haven’t thought all the way through that yet, but I love it.

It seemed like almost everyone who got up mentioned when they had been baptized, and a few counted down the anniversary. Justin was visiting from Arizona (he invited everyone to come visit him in the States) talked about a time he was having “a discouraging, but not disheartening, experience”, and I thought that was so profound. Adds some perspective, and a measure of control, even when we’re having some of our hardest times, yeah? He went on to talk about how the Lord is always mindful of us and the things we’re going through. Then a young dad got up, and mentioned how, during an episode of sadness he had the (very normal) thought: “This too shall pass.” However, he was then edited by the Spirit, which revised the thought to: “This too is a gift.” He said that every moment of this life is a gift; it has literally been given to us. Then he bore testimony of the gifts of the Lord and the Spirit and I thought: what about giving all the moments of our own lives as a gift to our Heavenly Father? Give Him the happy moments to share, and give Him the sad/difficult moments as a display of trust that He will know what to do and will help us get through them.

It was cool that nobody was blasé about their testimonies. They were sometimes slightly inappropriate, but what they were saying was always heartfelt and important to them. 

Somebody quoted Sister White from the April 2022 General Conference, on how waiting on the Lord is and should be a sacred place. (I need to go read/listen to that talk. Well, all of them - I was a little out of it this last Conference - and that would be a good one to start with.)

So when I looked back at my notes - I took notes! - I realized that I have a complete Sacrament Meeting talk here, made up of concepts and connections from things people talked about in their testimonies. It was fascinating, and quite lovely. I’ll have to report back (I will probably not report back) if I ever get the chance to give that talk.

Oh, and in this ward the sacrament was at the end. I suppose that might be tricky for some, but after a meeting of testimonies and wonderful moments (even with children shrieking - and not just the one who’d had her foot rolled over!) I felt well-prepped to take the Sacrament. 

Tara Said So

 My friend Tara recommended I visit Kew Gardens, which I wasn’t consciously aware of (I mean, it shows up in Regency novels on occasion, so I vaguely knew it was a place - but not a NOW place, you know?), so I went. First I had decided to go to Oxford, since I haven’t been (and I was already aware of it as a place), but I woke up all nervy and angsty and did not get out of bed in time for the planned train to Ye Olde University Towne. (The trains run every half hour, but meh.) I was already having A Day, and I kind of just wanted to hole up and do nothing, but also the sun was shining and Sunday it’s supposed to rain and I really should do SOMETHING and Kew Gardens had a student ticket rate and FINE, I’ll GO.

I’m very glad I did.

It’s not as good as Longwood Gardens (someday I’ll come back!) and it probably wasn’t as good as it will be when more of the flowers are out, but it is green and sprawling and the weather was wonderful and boy howdy, did I WALK, and I will recommend that the students go on a weekend (cheaper train fare) when they need to get out of the city. Definite mood booster, and I should sleep well tonight! (Yeah, whatever, Ambien [generic version]. You’re only here because the doctor said so.)

Anyway, 18,000+ steps later:

Kew as in ‘cue’, but with a ‘K’.

There are some pilots out there ALSO enjoying the weather and having a great time.

If you can’t find pyramidal topiaries in a British garden, where can you?

This tree came from China and is a million years old (or a few hundred, give or take), and nobody knows why it started growing sideways like this. But they supported the roots with bricks and keep adding steel poles to hold up the branches, and it keeps right on flowering every year. There’s a lesson here, I’m guessing.

The Hive is an artistic representation of what it’s like to be in a beehive, as the park has this whole thing about bees and pollinators and all that good stuff. This hive hums and buzzes (there are speakers) and it has lights that respond to the vibrations of an actual hive somewhere on the grounds (not pictured). It was trippy, there is video.

This Monkey Puzzle tree looks like velvet from a distance, and feels like cactus IRL. DO NOT TRY TO CLIMB. (Just saying.)

Cupid in the Queen’s Garden behind Kew Palace, which is really just a big house King George III and Queen Charlotte liked to hang out in (at least until he was tortured, er, “treated” for his physical and mental illnesses there, NOT COOL) and it was still too small for the entire family of 15 children. Yeah, you read that right. They have the black horsehair chair Queen Charlotte died in, still draped with a ribbon so no one else will sit in it. Except you know someone HAS, right? Some idiot teenager with their first summer job got bored between tours and totally rebelled and moved the ribbon and sat down and freaked out and did not take a selfie because this was before cell phones. Possibly waaaaay before. Anyway.

The Brits really are surprisingly cool with the whole Hamilton thing.

I just thought this tree was neat.

THEY HAVE A BAMBOO FOREST. Y’all, if they can grow bamboo in the UK they can grow it anywhere - we REALLY need to be using bamboo (and hemp!) for all the things.

Snack break -  first in-country Crunchie bar! It was delicious.

Okay, but going on the treewalk meant going up all those stairs first. I hate stairs.

I talked myself into it. Other people were there, which made it less fun (including other tourists who couldn’t read the signs telling them to stay on the left - Americans!) and it will probably be amazing in 20 years when the elevator they are just now starting to build has been refurbished and all the trees have grown up further and it LEGIT feels like you’re in a massive tree house. It’s been a garden space for a solid 200+ years, what’s another 20? (Yes, the walkway is metal grating, and you can see through to the stuff below. No biggie.)

There’s a tower-style pagoda (because of course there is) and it has dragons (because of course it does). I did not even THINK about talking myself into trying to climb this one.

See? Dragons.

I call this picture “Work in Progress”. The statue/puppet/art piece should be pretty cool when it’s done, at least. (I’m guessing I’ll always be a dork. *shrugs*)

I made a beeline (heh) for the Waterlily House, and then left as quickly as possible. It was muggy in there. But real waterlilies!

There are ten animal statues representing 10 different support factions for Queen Victoria, and there are pretty fascinating. They include a unicorn for Scotland, England’s crowned lion, and even a ‘yale’, which is apparently a legit mythical creature (mythically legit?), for the family of Henry VII’s mother, Lady Margaret Beaufort. They’re lined up along the front of the Palm House, which I did not go into because I decided I didn’t want to be in a sub-tropical space or that close to that many people. (Sunny day in the UK? There were a LOT of people out strolling, picnicking, wrangling screaming children, etc. Good times.) Also, since I didn’t go into either of the massive greenhouses, I have an excuse to go back later. Win!

I got back after 5 hours out in the fresh air and sunshine, picked up groceries, and did nothing else. I was going to watch a movie and/or read for next week’s classes, but, nope. I’m blaming jet lag - which is going quite well, considering - and taking my pill (last one?), and going to sleep. Rain forecast for tomorrow - may sneak in another park (there’s a Japanese park nearish by that I didn’t know about) after church. And then Shakespeare and class prep. For sure.

All of the Travel, None of the Glory

  All in all, it was a fairly undramatic travel day(s), which is just the way I like it. I hadn’t slept well the couple of days before leaving, and then didn’t sleep much at all on either flight, so it also ended up being a ‘dealing with bouts of woozy’ couple of days; but that’s why I planned to get in a few days early. Catching up via naps!

Dallas Fort Worth airport. I mean, if your airport doesn’t have a crazy-castle-thing, is it even real?

Dramatic lighting. Thanks, crazy castle thing!

View from the waiting area. (Nothing clever to say.)

I was just struck by how much the clouds looked like dirty cotton candy.

Made it to London, found the Heathrow Express. Did I mention my suitcase handle broke at the very top of the trip? Because it did. And it was a pain.

Did a pretty good job of matching the decor on the train.

Another pan chocolate, this one marginally better and totally British. Chillin’ (literally, it was cold) outside the Hyde Park Chapel on Exhibition Street. They had agreed to let me stash my luggage there until I could check in to my AirBnb. It was nice - I freshened up, stored all my stuff, and tried not to think about hiding in a classroom and sleeping on the floor. 

I walked the neighborhood (honestly, to keep awake) and found the three places the study abroad students in our group will be staying. Also found this random display of restored cars in one of the mews that included this Bentley.

Spent a minute in Hyde Park (the actual park) sitting on a bench near a group of schoolgirls practicing four-way cricket (I KNOW. For real.) and catching up on a few Marco Polos. Walked past the Albert Memorial, which is not dramatic or elaborate AT ALL.

Wanted to get out of the chilly-ish air and keep sitting (while hopefully not falling asleep), so I headed for the Victoria & Albert Museum because it is free and full of interesting things. Didn’t help - I kept trying to doze off standing up. Was surveyed by an employee on my experience, which I totally went along with even though I had nothing substantial to offer because talking to someone kept me awake and I still had an hour before I could head to my AirBnb. Will go back to the V&A, hopefully on the regular, and take things in a bite at a time.

Not a bad view to wake up to, eh? I held out as long as I could, meaning I fully planned to stay awake until 8-ish and then pop a (prescribed!) sleeping pill, but I made it to about 2:30. I met the Airbnb hosts, vaguely thought about showering or finding some food for later, washed my face, and lay down for a nap. Five hours later I got up, had a snack, puttered around a little, tried to read, (did not leave my room - it has an en-suite bathroom! Woo!), took my pill (to keep me asleep during jet lag turnover) and went back to bed.

It is currently 9AM - I decided to go to Oxford today, then decided that was too much work; I think I’ll go to Kew Gardens instead. If I can get myself up and showered and past wanting to take a nap, that is.

This is a weird mental place; I’d like to blame some of it on the jet lag, and I will, but I’m fighting between holing up and hermitting, and getting out to see and do. Thinking about the walking is exhausting (got my 12,000 steps and 5 miles yesterday!), but I know I need to get out and stop missing things. The battle is between “rest up” and “sleep when you’re dead”, and the winner has traditionally/overwhelmingly been “rest up/be lazy”, but I will drag myself out for breakfast. And if I keep on going from there I just might do something new AND take along some reading to prep for class. 

Gotta have goals, right?

Study Abroad (and At My Age, Too!)

 I’m off to London for six weeks - well, six plus-ish, since we’re counting the fact that I’m giving myself an extra five days to get over jet lag before the program starts. I’m weirdly nervous about this, and having the handle to my carry-on break as I was loading it on the security conveyor didn’t help. (Pro tip: TSA Precheck - or whatever equivalent we’re working with by the time anybody reads this - is 100% the way to go. 10/10. Highly recommend.)

It’s early, that whole thing about ‘get to the airport 3 hours before your international flight’ doesn’t actually apply when the first leg of your trip is a DOMESTIC flight, and it’s going to be a long day-and-a-half before I see a bed again. Let’s see how it goes!

*A pan chocolate to get me geared up for London. (They will be better in London.)

**My hair is currently purple, and I am defiantly holding on through the fade. Eyebrows are ON POINT.

***I’ll work on the photography on the trip.

Grown Up

It's probably time to stop reading high school-set YA novels when you find yourself nervous that the main couple won't work out their fake relationship before the end of the semester - and realizing the anxiety comes from the fact that she needs him in order to pass Calculus, and he needs her in order to pass English.

'Awww: Homecoming! Sweet. Kiss? Very nice. Now STUDY!'

#GetOffMyLawn

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Images

I've been recognizing lately that I have what I think is an unusual mental hang-up - rather than the mental state that believes a person is heavier than they are (leading/contributing to anorexia and such), I have the opposite. I seem to be of the firm (ha) impression that I am actually slimmer than I am. I look in the mirror, and, while not overjoyed, I feel like I look just fine. And then I see a picture of myself and am completely horrified. It's been happening with some regularity.

Just this past weekend I was at a family wedding, and a relative insisted on some 'headshots' of me. They posted them on social media yesterday. I had thought that I looked well - I had altered a dress so it fit better around my hips and belly, it was an excellent color/pattern that looked great with my eyes, and I had a cute new pair of shoes. Then I saw the pictures.

My sewing skills are distinctly lacking (and the hem definitely hit in the wrong place) - and in the pictures taken I looked tired, bloated, and - in one - thoroughly pregnant. In the mirror I can see my cheekbones. My face is round as an apple in the pictures. My hairstyle, which I generally like pretty well (aren't most of us constantly in some sort of 'growing out' phase?) did me no favors. The dress didn't match my eyes at all, if you can see them under the blobs of flesh, and everything is plump, puffy, dumpy, and, well - unappetizing. I've been telling people for years that I'm not very photogenic - and I've seen wonderful pictures of heavier individuals who are still very attractive and intriguing. Those pictures seemed to show clearly why no one is, or, in recent memory, has been, attracted to me - not only do I not look pretty, I don't even look interesting.

Cameras lie. Mirrors lie. Everything 2D 'lies' - it just can't show you what 3D eyes can. But pictures also remind us of what we did or didn't see, and since we spend increasingly more time online looking at 2D images on a screen, those images correspondingly increasingly come to represent, to present, the 'truth' of what we think we see. It's in some ways similar to the grasp of 'facts' that we are being told is the new reality: even if something is scientifically (factually) true, if enough people believe it isn't than it's not.

Isn't it better, though, for truth to come from the inside of something, from the knowing and being of something, rather than the deceptive appearance of something? I had a hard night, and a hard day, after seeing those pictures, and I have to remember that the truth of me is not found in the pictures of my face or body. I have to remember to keep finding myself interesting, even if no one else ever sees it. How could they, really? That's not what I look like.

So once again I'm planning an exercise program, and cleaning out my kitchen to stock with healthier foods. I've got to say, though - a third of a carton of Ben & Jerry's cleared my headache this morning, even as I was throwing away junk food.

And the up side to all of it - I will never have Trump or any of his supporters ever try to grab or hit on me, which is actually a huge comfort. Silver lining!

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