I want to say thank you and congrats to the two followers of Pinkies Up: Mom and Dad. You two are a great team and twenty-five years is quite a feat, especially with four kids to boot. In honor of your anniversary, I decided to write a short poem. Nothing spectacular but it's something...
Woven deep with threads that keep
binds two in one and one in six
twenty-five years the clock has ticked
Dressed in white their journey took flight
but now in silver we watch them soar
twenty-five years and still wanting more
Growing stress, Dad forgets the GPS
but Mom comes to his rescue
twenty-five years, nothing new
For some reason, God thought they'd fit
this Yank and this Brit, and alas He was right
twenty-five years, no Revolution in sight
Your officially old earning rights to scold
soon it will be your golden year
with grandkids, arthritis and Black Toad beer
Happy 25th Anniversary!
Sorry I can't be there for the celebration, but I love you guys so that's got to count for something.
Tuesday, July 30, 2013
Monday, July 29, 2013
Chapter Four
You know you're in Great Britain when...
1. The "movie theater" is the "cinema"
I recently went to go see a film with two of my cousins called "The World's End." Basically, it was the epitome of British-boy humor full of beer and robots. I also enjoyed the mannered way of receiving my tickets at the cinema. The lady at the desk pleasantly asked me where I'd like to sit, pulling out a map of the theater with the seats numbered. I was then politely ushered into a mini-cafe with choices of pastries, popcorn and tea. Another employee showed me to my designated seat with a warm smile and a welcoming, "Enjoy your film." In short, I need to go to the cinema more often.
2. You play the football (soccer) version of basketball H-O-R-S-E with your boy cousins
Five of us got in a circle, kicking a soccer ball in the air. Each time someone allowed the ball to run loose or bounce more than once, they received a letter until the word is completed. Unlike in basketball, however, the name of the game was A-R-S-E.
3. The crowd sits perfectly still at a gospel choir concert...as in frozen
I went to a gospel choir concert at a church two days ago with my aunt and cousin; the choir itself was very animated, swaying back and forth constantly. Their voices reverberated against all the walls of the church, saturated with power and rejuvenation. I wanted to get up and dance with them, or at least clap my hands and shout a couple "Amens"! But I looked around and was surprised to see stony faces everywhere. Not even a slight bob of the head. Its not as if the audience didn't enjoy the concert, by all means, at the end (when it was appropriate to show emotion) the choir received a raucous applause. I was flabbergasted, intrigued, and humored all at the same time. I mean, don't these Brits have soul?
4. The "backyard" is the "garden"
I spent Sunday afternoon in the garden playing croquet with my family. I don't understand why croquet isn't popular in America, its simply sublime! Now I realize cricket will never be popular in the States but croquet, c'mon, it deserves a chance.
5. You begin getting annoyed with Americans
Today, I visited Warner Bros Studios of the Harry Potter films near London. The tour itself was spectacular; I am still in awe of the momentous energy invested in the intrinsic detail in each and every film. The costumes, sets, props, visual effects, special effects, animals, animal trainers, and engineered magic combined made the Harry Potter experience an universally iconic phenomenon. As a tourist attraction, though, there were people from all over the globe including other Americans. One American group in particular was being especially loud and obnoxious, and in response, I caught myself thinking, "Shut up, you stupid Yankees."
1. The "movie theater" is the "cinema"
I recently went to go see a film with two of my cousins called "The World's End." Basically, it was the epitome of British-boy humor full of beer and robots. I also enjoyed the mannered way of receiving my tickets at the cinema. The lady at the desk pleasantly asked me where I'd like to sit, pulling out a map of the theater with the seats numbered. I was then politely ushered into a mini-cafe with choices of pastries, popcorn and tea. Another employee showed me to my designated seat with a warm smile and a welcoming, "Enjoy your film." In short, I need to go to the cinema more often.
2. You play the football (soccer) version of basketball H-O-R-S-E with your boy cousins
Five of us got in a circle, kicking a soccer ball in the air. Each time someone allowed the ball to run loose or bounce more than once, they received a letter until the word is completed. Unlike in basketball, however, the name of the game was A-R-S-E.
3. The crowd sits perfectly still at a gospel choir concert...as in frozen
I went to a gospel choir concert at a church two days ago with my aunt and cousin; the choir itself was very animated, swaying back and forth constantly. Their voices reverberated against all the walls of the church, saturated with power and rejuvenation. I wanted to get up and dance with them, or at least clap my hands and shout a couple "Amens"! But I looked around and was surprised to see stony faces everywhere. Not even a slight bob of the head. Its not as if the audience didn't enjoy the concert, by all means, at the end (when it was appropriate to show emotion) the choir received a raucous applause. I was flabbergasted, intrigued, and humored all at the same time. I mean, don't these Brits have soul?
4. The "backyard" is the "garden"
I spent Sunday afternoon in the garden playing croquet with my family. I don't understand why croquet isn't popular in America, its simply sublime! Now I realize cricket will never be popular in the States but croquet, c'mon, it deserves a chance.
5. You begin getting annoyed with Americans
Today, I visited Warner Bros Studios of the Harry Potter films near London. The tour itself was spectacular; I am still in awe of the momentous energy invested in the intrinsic detail in each and every film. The costumes, sets, props, visual effects, special effects, animals, animal trainers, and engineered magic combined made the Harry Potter experience an universally iconic phenomenon. As a tourist attraction, though, there were people from all over the globe including other Americans. One American group in particular was being especially loud and obnoxious, and in response, I caught myself thinking, "Shut up, you stupid Yankees."
Tuesday, July 23, 2013
Chapter Three
Today I've been surrounding myself with history, films and literature. So I've decided to keep today's post short and sweet by simply talking (or rather rambling) about beauty. Beauty which vanity demands, art interprets and age covets seems fantastical and even impossible to maintain. Its as if it is a mere idea breathing only in the inky pages of fairy tales, but not at all applicable to today's reality.
But what is beauty anyways? What tool or figure can strip it bare to its fundamental elements?
Perhaps this is the wrong question to ask. Perhaps the right question is "What is not beautiful?"
Divinity claims "I am who I am." And aren't we - all creatures great and small - made in the visage of the most divine?
Hence I am made, we are made, for the purpose of saying "I am who I am."I am beautiful because I am who I am; you are beautiful because you are who you are.
Should we be proud? Should we gloat? Should we ignore? The reaction or the way in which one condones God's gifts defines the magnitude of one's beauty. I wish to glorify His beauty through me since He has placed it in me. This is what I believe at least, what do you believe? What is beauty to you?
Anyways, those thoughts have just been weighing on my mind especially after reading and studying Jane Austen, listening to the "Pride and Prejudice" CD, flipping through "Photographs for the Tsar," and watching a romantic film on Queen Victoria's relationship with her husband, Albert. You can now see why I've decided to write about "what is beauty."
On a similar note, I was also able to go for a little walk in the woods today. I brought a camera and quickly shot this video...don't judge my vlogging abilities, its a bit rough I know.
Hope all is well with you
PINKIES UP
But what is beauty anyways? What tool or figure can strip it bare to its fundamental elements?
Perhaps this is the wrong question to ask. Perhaps the right question is "What is not beautiful?"
Divinity claims "I am who I am." And aren't we - all creatures great and small - made in the visage of the most divine?
Hence I am made, we are made, for the purpose of saying "I am who I am."I am beautiful because I am who I am; you are beautiful because you are who you are.
Should we be proud? Should we gloat? Should we ignore? The reaction or the way in which one condones God's gifts defines the magnitude of one's beauty. I wish to glorify His beauty through me since He has placed it in me. This is what I believe at least, what do you believe? What is beauty to you?
Anyways, those thoughts have just been weighing on my mind especially after reading and studying Jane Austen, listening to the "Pride and Prejudice" CD, flipping through "Photographs for the Tsar," and watching a romantic film on Queen Victoria's relationship with her husband, Albert. You can now see why I've decided to write about "what is beauty."
On a similar note, I was also able to go for a little walk in the woods today. I brought a camera and quickly shot this video...don't judge my vlogging abilities, its a bit rough I know.
Hope all is well with you
PINKIES UP
Monday, July 22, 2013
Chapter Two-ish
I brought three books to the UK: The Lady of the Rivers, Game of Thrones and the Bible. You would be surprised of how much these three have in common. Women are incredibly suppressed and sometimes even herded like cattle. Also, they highlight the polar juxtaposition between rich and poor. Why I enjoy reading such things, I have no idea. Perhaps its the heroes and heroines who value the importance of determination and faith. Or perhaps I'm just attracted to the scandals, with hidden identities and lonely wives seeking the attention of winking knights. Those are always fun.
Anyways, as you could probably could have guessed, I've been doing a lot of reading. I've also been introduced to a TV series based on Philippa Gregory's series called "The White Queen." The story focuses on three women who played crucial roles in the War of the Roses, Anne Neville, Elizabeth Woodville, and Margaret Beaufort. I was slightly surprised (and repulsed) at how accurately they portrayed the birthing scenes. To say the least, I'm glad I was born in the 1990s and not the 1490s.
Now I'm just going to write about some really random things...
TRANSITION.
Big news: Kate is in the hospital! I'm banking on a girl with the middle name "Diana."
TRANSITION.
Shopping. I never was quite fond of it, but now I'm finding it rather enjoyable. It probably has something to do with actually having money.
TRANSITION.
I'm staying with my grandparents at the moment, and my Nana needs to practice her harp for a wedding coming up. I was listening to her play "Memory" while reading The Lady of the Rivers with a nice cup of tea at hand; I couldn't help but think, I can get used to this.
TRANSITION.
When I went to the beach (a very pebbly beach), I saw a line of little "beach huts." People would store umbrellas, chairs, boogie boards and all sorts of things in there. I saw one family sitting outside of their hut by a little table in lawn chairs sipping tea. You can't get any more British than that.
TRANSITION.
I was thinking of doing a Christian retreat called L'Abris in Greatham, so my grandparents drove me and dropped me off (I thought I'd try it out for a few days). The man who greeted me told me to take my things in my room then come outside to find him at tea. Well, I dropped my things in my room like he asked me, then went outside. I couldn't find him so I decided to simply stand there, by the cart of tea waiting for him. Finally, I caught sight of him, went up to him and asked him what I should do next. He said he would give me a tour in fifteen minutes, enough time for him to grab a smoke. I gave him an unenthusiastic "OK" and idly waited in the front room of the house. Long story short, I decided to not go through with it and stayed with family instead.
TRANSITION.
The other day, I was with my aunt, uncle and cousin and we were having a bit of a party-- just the four of us. I found myself waltzing with a balloon, my uncle dancing with a monkey, my aunt singing with a lamb, and my cousin playing some funky beats...nothing like family.
Thanks for reading,
PINKIES UP
Anyways, as you could probably could have guessed, I've been doing a lot of reading. I've also been introduced to a TV series based on Philippa Gregory's series called "The White Queen." The story focuses on three women who played crucial roles in the War of the Roses, Anne Neville, Elizabeth Woodville, and Margaret Beaufort. I was slightly surprised (and repulsed) at how accurately they portrayed the birthing scenes. To say the least, I'm glad I was born in the 1990s and not the 1490s.
Now I'm just going to write about some really random things...
TRANSITION.
Big news: Kate is in the hospital! I'm banking on a girl with the middle name "Diana."
TRANSITION.
Shopping. I never was quite fond of it, but now I'm finding it rather enjoyable. It probably has something to do with actually having money.
TRANSITION.
I'm staying with my grandparents at the moment, and my Nana needs to practice her harp for a wedding coming up. I was listening to her play "Memory" while reading The Lady of the Rivers with a nice cup of tea at hand; I couldn't help but think, I can get used to this.
TRANSITION.
When I went to the beach (a very pebbly beach), I saw a line of little "beach huts." People would store umbrellas, chairs, boogie boards and all sorts of things in there. I saw one family sitting outside of their hut by a little table in lawn chairs sipping tea. You can't get any more British than that.
TRANSITION.
I was thinking of doing a Christian retreat called L'Abris in Greatham, so my grandparents drove me and dropped me off (I thought I'd try it out for a few days). The man who greeted me told me to take my things in my room then come outside to find him at tea. Well, I dropped my things in my room like he asked me, then went outside. I couldn't find him so I decided to simply stand there, by the cart of tea waiting for him. Finally, I caught sight of him, went up to him and asked him what I should do next. He said he would give me a tour in fifteen minutes, enough time for him to grab a smoke. I gave him an unenthusiastic "OK" and idly waited in the front room of the house. Long story short, I decided to not go through with it and stayed with family instead.
TRANSITION.
The other day, I was with my aunt, uncle and cousin and we were having a bit of a party-- just the four of us. I found myself waltzing with a balloon, my uncle dancing with a monkey, my aunt singing with a lamb, and my cousin playing some funky beats...nothing like family.
Thanks for reading,
PINKIES UP
Monday, July 15, 2013
EXTRA NOTE!
Just as a heads up- I won't have internet access for the next week but I will be keeping a journal so I can transfer that over when I get back to society. Thanks
Chapter One
My grandparents took me to a pub today and tried to get me drunk. OK, that's a lie but at least I've caught your attention now.
I landed yesterday a bit after ten. Nothing really exciting happened on the flight except for this one man who kept having nightmares in his sleep. He even stood up at one point, thrashing about. I don't think the stewardesses were too pleased about that.
When I got off (after immigration and all that bananas), I was greeted by my aunt. We had a bit of trouble finding the car but once we did, she realized she forgot to get the garage ticket so we had to walk back to the entrance. Oddly enough, this little excursion made me feel at home, as if I were traveling with my dad.
Anyways, we got back to her place and I got to go on the trampoline with my little cousin. She taught me some games too, like crack the egg, cat and mouse, clock and balloon. Of course I lost each time.
After she wore me out, I was escorted to my grandparents place where I completely crashed after 24 hours of traveling and jumping on a trampoline.
So that was yesterday.
Today I was given a full blow by blow account of the local village history. I visited a blacksmith who didn't make swords or shields which I was disappointed about, but did make some extraordinary decorative works.
I also saw two graveyards. On these two trips I've decided that I wanted to be buried with small headstone that reads, "Madeline Louise Linnell, 1994-3001, says, "Welcome to my burial! To your right are my flowers of mourning from my youngest sister, Phoebe Kennedy. To the left, I believe, should be a pot with the label "Donations." So if you could please just put some money in there, that would be great. This was a hard spot to get, I really had to go at it with a few cancer patients, so it would simply be lovely if you could donate your generous change to compensate for my trouble."
I got to go in a pretty old church as well; it was partly built in the 1300s and had some beautiful stained glass windows. There actually was a sign reading that a pastor, Henry Whitfield, traveled in 1639 to New England to escape the church reforms King Charles I endorsed and start a Puritan church in the "New World." He actually founded a colony which is now Guilford, Connecticut.
An English pub seems like a fun place to be (nice transition, I know). It was an old pub, a local buzzing place, built in the 17th century. I enjoyed a nice tart and a sip of my grandfather's cider (Mother: sip, NOT chug, sip).
I think thats enough of that though, don't you think? Or should I go in more detail. Perhaps talk about my epiphany in the bathroom this morning: that flush is a funny word because it can describe both someone's facial appearance and the formal farewell of someone's excrement. Astounding.
I guess I'll leave it with that lovely picture.
Pinkies UP!
I landed yesterday a bit after ten. Nothing really exciting happened on the flight except for this one man who kept having nightmares in his sleep. He even stood up at one point, thrashing about. I don't think the stewardesses were too pleased about that.
When I got off (after immigration and all that bananas), I was greeted by my aunt. We had a bit of trouble finding the car but once we did, she realized she forgot to get the garage ticket so we had to walk back to the entrance. Oddly enough, this little excursion made me feel at home, as if I were traveling with my dad.
Anyways, we got back to her place and I got to go on the trampoline with my little cousin. She taught me some games too, like crack the egg, cat and mouse, clock and balloon. Of course I lost each time.
After she wore me out, I was escorted to my grandparents place where I completely crashed after 24 hours of traveling and jumping on a trampoline.
So that was yesterday.
Today I was given a full blow by blow account of the local village history. I visited a blacksmith who didn't make swords or shields which I was disappointed about, but did make some extraordinary decorative works.
I also saw two graveyards. On these two trips I've decided that I wanted to be buried with small headstone that reads, "Madeline Louise Linnell, 1994-3001, says, "Welcome to my burial! To your right are my flowers of mourning from my youngest sister, Phoebe Kennedy. To the left, I believe, should be a pot with the label "Donations." So if you could please just put some money in there, that would be great. This was a hard spot to get, I really had to go at it with a few cancer patients, so it would simply be lovely if you could donate your generous change to compensate for my trouble."
I got to go in a pretty old church as well; it was partly built in the 1300s and had some beautiful stained glass windows. There actually was a sign reading that a pastor, Henry Whitfield, traveled in 1639 to New England to escape the church reforms King Charles I endorsed and start a Puritan church in the "New World." He actually founded a colony which is now Guilford, Connecticut.
An English pub seems like a fun place to be (nice transition, I know). It was an old pub, a local buzzing place, built in the 17th century. I enjoyed a nice tart and a sip of my grandfather's cider (Mother: sip, NOT chug, sip).
I think thats enough of that though, don't you think? Or should I go in more detail. Perhaps talk about my epiphany in the bathroom this morning: that flush is a funny word because it can describe both someone's facial appearance and the formal farewell of someone's excrement. Astounding.
I guess I'll leave it with that lovely picture.
Pinkies UP!
Saturday, July 13, 2013
Prologue
You think blogs are just about reading someone's words online.
Wrong.
At least not for the REAL blogs, the blogs with some dignity and class. If you want to read this blog, you better follow the rules.
You ask, "Well, how will she know whether I'm obeying the rules or not?" HA. I know because my parents are the only ones reading this. So Mom and Dad, I've got eyes and ears everywhere.
You think your alone? You think your peacefully drinking coffee and reading the paper? You think your getting away eating that last piece of fudge pie without anyone noticing? No!
I have my sources so take heed, follow the rules of this blog!
The guidelines:
1. Get in the mode by saying random British phrases like, "Bloody hell" or "'Ello guvnah" or "More fish and chips, please" or "Typical Americans"
2. Grab a hot cup of tea and head to the computer
3. Sip the tea
4. I don't care how hot it is
5. Sip it!
6. OK, now open your internet browser and type this URL in
7. Read my posts in a proper British accent
8. Aloud
9. Don't forget to comment...nothing nasty please
10. When your finished reading, you can continue living your life
11. And finish your tea too
12. Remember, PINKIES UP!
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