Into the Cold

Something I always forget about England is how frakkin' cold it is. I can't remember another time in my life when I was so consistently chilly. Not that it's so much worse, temperature wise, than Virginia, but my house lacks central heating, so there really is no "coming in from the cold." It's more like "coming in to more cold." I was lamenting not packing my fingerless gloves yesterday because, typing in my living room, my fingers were nearly numb.

Bizarrely, this constant desire to put another sweatshirt on or find a third blanket is one of the things I think I'm going to miss most when I finally depart this drafty little island. Sure, sometimes it can be hard to fall asleep when you are literally shivering (and even harder to get out of the bed, once body heat has made it a comfortable place). But I think there's something so old-fashioned, romantic, even, about hot water bottles and big duster sweaters and a hot brewed cup of something permanently in your head. It puts me in the mind of books where characters are constantly wandering about the moors, writing letters and getting offended by the way dinner invitations are worded.

It's always an odd adjustment to come back from America, though not for the reasons one might think. I love England. I would stay here forever if I could, I think. But people are such a huge part of my life, I know I can't (unless there is a mass exodus...President Romney could have advantages, after all...). Thus, coming back is always I reminder of everything I love and everything I'll eventually say goodbye to. I don't mean that to sound morose. It's more bittersweet, emphasis on sweet.

Back in the Stratsmosphere

Why, hello.

Before I say anything else, can I just put out there that the cup of coffee I am drinking is...amazing? Good, I'm glad that is out of the way.

So, 2012! That's a thing. That is now. Iunno, I have a hard time wrapping my head around things like time and years and whatnot. I stopped doing resolutions awhile ago because I never kept them and then I felt like a failure...at least, when I could even remember what they were. Which was not very often. But I do like to try and make some goals. This year they include:

• send more snail mail
• save some kind of money
• start waking up regularly before 10am
• leave my house at least once a day
• bake at least once a month
• write 1,000 words a week
• start doing yoga again
• shower as soon as I get out of bed
• be better at connecting/reconnecting with people
• take a trip outside of England

As you can see, none of these are truly outrageous goals. The fact that waking up while it's still morning and leaving my house are on that list speaks to its modesty. More ambitiously, I'd also love to get something published somewhere, find some kind of funding and have a successful upgrade as well, but those first two may be long shots and that last one HAS to happen or else what am I doing with my life?

Oh, and blog more, of course! Shorter, more frequent posts.

Yeah...we'll see how that goes.