Baking Gluten-Free in a new country

Okay, I've been gluten-free for about 11 months now. And baking is a scary, scary, scary, awful, horrible thing if you're not familiar with what you're doing. Which I'm generally not. I'd tried it a few times (unsuccessful mixes aside) and kinda had an idea in the states.

But Thanksgiving is around the corner. And as the main representative for America in my bible study, I feel a need to share my culture with them. Since Bible Study is on Thursday's, this works well. If I could just figure out how to bake over here...

I e-mailed family to request a pumpkin cookie recipe (thinking that would be nice and easy) and lo, and behold: it requires a yellow moist cake mix.
So after internet research, maybe I have a substitute:

1 1/2 cups white rice flour
3/4 cup tapioca flour
1 tsp salt
3 tsp baking powder
1 tsp xantham gum
1 1/4 cups sugar

Does this sound right? Anyone? Anyone at all?

Sundays

I happen to love Sundays. They're always full of time to pray and read and I never feel tons of stress to work on my papers. One of the few times I don't have that stress. Today has turned out to be another wonderful amazing Sunday.

When I woke up I could hear birds singing. "Well that's not so odd and noteworthy" you think... but it is. I live in Oxford, which rains. Constantly. All the time. 24/7. Non-stop. So very few birds just hanging around chirping. I immediately felt inspired to actually climb out bed (something that's hard to do on the tenth gray/rainy day in a row) and peeked outside. I saw sunrays hitting the row of houses across from us! What?! It's a miracle! The happiness for the day just bubbled up inside. Not only was it sunny, but I had timed getting ready perfectly. I hate mornings with either too much time or too little time to get ready. Really throws me off my game.

But the day only continued to improve. I actually caught the correct bus into city centre so I could go to church, and St. Ebbe's family service, was as always, really lovely. I had three new people come up and introduce themselves (always a nerve-wracking experience for me, but I'm getting better at it) and someone Megan and I had met last week came over to check on us and make sure we were well. When you're surrounded by that much Christian Love, how can you help smiling?

After a quick run to Sainsbury's I decided to actually cook for once in my paper-filled life, and made a full-fledged pasta lunch with cheese sauce. I may finally have corn pasta down to a fine art, but it's definitely taken some serious practice. I've also learned that corn penne is better than corn spaghetti. Good lesson to learn. The last two months of non-stop papers have finally taught me how to balance a little better, but I had almost forgotten I actually LIKE cooking. I just never have time.

The sun was still miraculously shining bright after lunch, so I decided to take a little walk. Being out in the sunshine after so many days of pouring rain really lifted my spirits, and I actually feel ready to tackle this week.
I totally discovered a teensy cute little village too. South Hinsky. It was wonderful and precious, and the village hall in the center of the village was so stereotypically "Small English Village" that I almost laughed.

I'm currently trying to work up motivation to actually write my two papers that are due on Wednesday, and fighting the urge to go back outside. Fortunately it's 4:15, and the sun will go down soon and squash that urge for me.

:-P

*Whew*

What a long week. They happen, far more often than I would like, but fortunately my weekend should be nice and clear. Except for the homework, of course.

But I thought I would take a little time for an update on day-to-day life.

First of all, the tutorials. Love them. Both tutors are so incredibly smart, that I hope I'm going to come away understanding 1/10th of what happened in our sessions. My music tutor, is pretty incredible. He teaches at a boarding school, gives OOSC students tutorials, conducts independent research and is a professional choral singer. Crazy stuff. But he's great, and has given me tons of advice on how to improve my writing which I have tried to take (culminating in the comment today that I have "come a long way". High praise indeed).
And then there's Susan Halstead, my Celtic Studies tutor. She's crazy. Insane. Manic. Lovely, wonderful, and incredible. She works for the British Library, teaches OOSC students, and wait for it...: speaks/reads/writes 27 languages. Yep, I said 27. I'm not even sure how that's possible, and most people react by saying "I didn't even know there WERE 27 languages". The craziest part, I don't think she speaks any Asiatic languages. Which means she knows some insane stuff. And I happen to know she's learning Swahili right now.

So tutorials take up a lot of time, but not all, so I try to fill my time with random other things. Like traveling (Hastings, Bath, and Canterbury are the big destinations from this term). Plus church. Any weekend I'm not traveling I'm attending St. Ebbe's, which is just a great church, where the Lord is clearly doing great things. The people who inhabit this church are incredible people, so filled with humility and a wish to know God and God's people. I have never been so incredibly welcomed on a first, second, or third visit (outside of Kansas City's own VBC) than I have been at St. Ebbe's. That church has helped to instantly feel like I have roots here in Oxford. They also host a student's Bible Study, which is incredibly well attended. There are easily 100-150 students who come to learn about God and God's Word and to pray together in small groups every Thursday night. My Bible Study group is lovely, just a wonderful sweet group of girls who pray so earnestly and want to strive to be holier in their everyday lives, they are such an inspiration, and definitely the people I want to surrounding me. Each small group is headed by a student apprentice, and an older leader of the same gender as the group. In my group, that lovely lady is Georgiana. Now, the name is cool to begin with, but when she told me her father named her for "Georgiana Darcy" from Pride and Prejudice, I realized this was clearly someone I wanted to know better. :) She's wonderful, and leads our group in such a humble way, and it's clear she spends a lot of time studying the passages before she comes to us with them, and she's always asking us to dig deeper into what we're reading, it's great.

On any given morning, between 10:30-12:30, I can be found at Penelope Warner's house. She's incredible. In every sense of the word. She and Francis sort of take the place of everyone's parents, because they're just great like that. This couple are two of the most brilliant people I know, and yet they are also some of the most humble, generous, and patient people as well. They're also incredibly quirky. Like Francis owning a T-Rex egg. Yes, I did just say that. Or Penelope loving gift shops at all museums. I've really enjoyed getting to know both of them better. I try to drop in at least once or twice a week to chat and eat a cookie in their basement.

Other goals for the future: visit the Oxford Bridge Society. I know, ambitious, but I think I could have fun with that.
Which leads me to my last observation: I'm old. Really, really old. I crochet, enjoy face-to-face conversations, play bridge, and guzzle tea like it's going out of fashion. Really, I'm just a little old lady. Not that I think there is anything wrong with this, but I felt we ought to clarify the point. England is making me older than I was before I arrived. :-)

Epic?

So I had my life flash before my eyes today. Now before you think I'm just being dramatic, let me assure you that I'm not. I really saw my life, in a millisecond clip.

Okay, so now that I really am done being overdramatic...

Lora and I decided to walk down Cornmarket to get to Boots after lecture today. Along the way, just before the Boots, there were a couple of jugglers performing in the street. Now I happen to love watching the jugglers anyway, plus the one guy was getting ready to play with fire (pyromania anyone?) so we decided to stay and watch. Well, actually this it the conversation that happened:

Me: Ooh! Fire! Can we stay for a couple of minutes and watch?
Lora: Sounds good. I like fire too.
Guy who's getting ready to perform overhears us and comments: There's a better view if you walk over there *gestures to the other side of the street* I promise I won't involve you in the show or anything.

And then he winked.

Oh that wink. I should have known.

So we watched him twirl a big fiery stick, and then his partner juggled for awhile. The entire time they've had beat-heavy music on. Then the 2nd guy switches off the music, and the 1st guy looks like he's going to talk for a minute.

1st guy: Okay. I need a volunteer.

Innocent enough, right? Wrong.

1st guy: I need a volunteer, someone I promised I wouldn't involve in the show... *grinning* but she looks so keen and eager, and she's been a great audience member, so I can't resist. -All the while walking towards me, holding out his hand-

Me: Uhhhhhh

Lora: *laughing hysterically*

What proceeds from here, is probably one of my better moments. I uncharacteristically decided to be a participant. So he took my hand and led me into the middle of the street.

1st guy: *lays down coat on the ground* "Can't have you getting your nice coat messy now can we?

2nd guy: "Can we have a round of applause for our *cough cough* 'volunteer'?"

*crowd gathered applauds fairly enthusiastically*

The 1st guy looks at me "Comfy?" he asks. "Plenty, but I need you to not kill me, my mom wouldn't like it" I reply.

The 2nd guy starts talking about what they're about to do.
"Now while we're attempting this..."
"Attempt?! You're not going to succeed?!" is my automatic question
*sheepish grin* "Yes, attempt. I need you, the crowd to remember three things. Can you do that? The 1st is NINE! The second is Nine... and the 3rd is NINE... 999, can you do that if anything goes wrong? I think she'd appreciate it." (999 being the emergency number here).
Because I wasn't quaking in my boots before, this certainly didn't help. Although I did giggle uncontrollably. Probably nerves.

Now, I have no idea what's really about to happen. I start to look behind me where the guys are standing, but Lora shouts from the sidewalk that it's a bad plan. I decide to listen.

Next thing I know, there's a feeling of warmth hitting the top of my head. Yeah, that's right, the guy walked on his hands, with a fiery stick in his teeth, over me.

I was a little terrified.

But honestly, it was a lot of fun. And a fairly epic experience. Lora kindly took photos, which are below.

You might be wondering at this point: is that REALLY Karen in those photos. No, believe me, that's me. I think my heart-rate has finally slowed to a semi-normal pace. But I was definitely shaky when I got up off the ground.

Just another day in Oxford? Right?

Right.

Poppies

Today is Remembrance Sunday in the UK. For the last two weeks, every time I turned around there have been soldiers and veterans everywhere selling the traditional paper poppy flower to pin on your lapel. Already understanding the cultural significance, my sister encouraged me to donate and take one and wear the poppy. I’ve noticed everyone, even the people  It’s been an emotionally charged experience wearing the poppy, especially once I open my mouth and people realize I’m not British. I’m going to take this space to share a few of my favorite stories from this last week as I’ve worn the poppy. 

The first happened as I was donating to obtain a poppy in the Westgate shopping center. There were three older gentlemen standing together. When they figured out I was an American, I had to explain why I wanted one. I told them that yes, we do it at home, it’s not as big of a thing, but we do observe a Veteran’s Day. And then I talked about all three of my grandfathers, who all fought in World War II, especially my mom’s dad, who was a career Army man. The men then shared their stories with me, and it was very touching to see the pride they had in fighting for their country during their various service times. 

Another wonderful moments was the elderly woman (is that PC?) I sat next to on the bus on the way home from city centre the other day. She told me her first love had died fighting in WWII, but she had ended up happy with her husband, so she supposed it was alright. She was wonderful and sweet, and again, wanted to know why an American would wear a poppy. 

My last favorite story is from this afternoon. After the 9:45 service at my church (in which we had a special Remembrance Day Act) I ran into the Sainsbury’s. On my way out, a cheerful young man asked me if I wanted a copy of The Big Issue. Now normally, I don’t buy it, but this man was cheerful despite the cold and rainy day, and the lack of luck he was having selling, even though the spot outside of Sainsbury’s is regarded as prime real estate. I stopped to talk for a moment, and bought one. While I was digging my change out of my pocket, he remarked on my accent, and then like every other person so far, my poppy. We had a good discussion, as I noticed he was wearing one as well. He explained some of the local Oxford-style traditions surrounding today and then November 11th as well. So today was special for two reasons, this young homeless man touched me in a slightly odd way, he was much less grumpy about the weather than I had been, and I had a warm and cozy house to go home to, and he was interested in more than just making a quid, he was interested in talking and human contact. I also gained some insight into the traditions that are local to Oxford. 

But here’s my complaint: why do the British think America doesn’t care? We have the largest number of armed forces, shouldn’t we care the most about them? I’ve been astonished to see people who would normally be considered the fringes of society openly wearing their poppies on their jackets and coats. Even the homeless wear them. America’s biggest display of Remembrance for the people who have fought for us includes taking a federal holiday. Somehow, I think the British have it figured out. That little mental reminder that rides on your coat somehow means more than a federal holiday where the meaning gets lost half of the time. I had many American people ask me why I wore one, “I mean, you’re not British”. So what? I care about anyone who has had the courage to stand up and fight for their country, to give their life fighting for a greater good. And I think it's fairly odd that I should be considered an oddity, just because I wore a poppy this week. 

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved, and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

— Lt.-Col. John McCrae (1872 - 1918)

Random Photos

So I have a few random photos to share but there will be more information later. Rebekah and I spent a weekend in Hastings two weeks ago, and did some sightseeing close to home last weekend, and right at the moment I’m visiting my adorable nephews in London! But there WILL be plenty of updates later. 

Click here!

Warwick Castle/Stratford-Upon-Avon

So the week after that excursion/tour filled week, we took an all-day excursion. We started with Warwick Castle, which might have been the most surreal castle I’ve ever been to (and I’ve been to far more than my fair share of them...) due to it’s incredible condition. Most castles in England suffered some damage around the time of Oliver Cromwell, but this particular castle had the good fortune to be on the “right” side of the war, or the side where it would get the least damaged (Parliament). 

I took more than plenty of photos and enjoyed myself greatly. We started by going through an exhibit on “The Kingmaker” which was on one of the Earls, who helped depose and set up kings, and well, it’s very complicated. After that, we climbed the battlements, from which we got the loveliest views! Lots of photos were taken in the process of the climbing. 

At this point (finishing the battlements) our group split up. Everyone but me, and Penelope (program’s administrative director and pretty much the go-to person for everything over here) went to tour the exhibit on “The Dungeon!”. It had been described on the website as being rather ghoulish, gory, and all-around disgusting. Actually, just reading the description out loud while I was on the phone with Mom grossed out both of us, completely. Apparently Penelope doesn’t deal well with the gore either, so she and I decided to tour the State Rooms of the actual Palace section, and to watch the trebuchet exhibition. Because you couldn’t do both the dungeon and the trebuchet, I feel like I came out on the winning side there. 

I also took a walk through the exquisite gardens on the grounds, and was able to snap several pretty photos. After this it was time to climb the Castle Motte (built in 1086!!!), visit the gift shop, and say goodbye to the castle. 

But our day wasn’t over, oh no, still more to come!

From the castle, we went on to Stratford-Upon-Avon, where we started at Anne Hatheway’s Cottage (as in Shakespeare’s wife). After touring her house and gardens (a tree spoke sonnets to me!) we moved on to Holy Trinity Cathedral, where Shakespeare is buried. We unfortunately couldn’t get close to his actual burial site due to church renovation and scaffolding blocking everything, but I did manage a picture through said scaffolding. We then toured “Hall’s Croft” the home of Shakespeare’s son-in-law and daughter Susanna, and then Shakespeare’s birthplace. After a brief respite for some souvenir shopping and supper at a local pub, we attended the Royal Shakespeare Company’s production of “The Winter’s Tale” at the Courtyard Theatre. It was an interesting production (I was with them until the bizarre dance from the second act) but we were all exhausted by this point. It was a 16.5 hour day from the time Lora and I walked out the door til the excursion bus dropped us off at our street. Eek!

But all in all, it was a fabulous day, and so wonderful, warm, and sunny (all rarities for England) and I was able to snag some amazing photos of the castle, the gardens, and everything in between!

Photos of the Day!

Musings on being a Celiac/Coeliac

I’m spoiled. I can own up to it. I have an amazing support system at home. I have my mother, who went gluten-free with me (although she thinks she’s seeing an improvement now, no wonder, Coeliac’s/Celiac’s is genetic). I have the rest of my family who are there when I need them, for a phone call, cup of tea, or a weekend brunch. They’re also very serious about making sure I stay healthy. I have my little circle of friends at school, who are not only supportive, but nag to make sure I keep my blood sugar steady, and never choose a restaurant that I can’t eat at, and in general are adorable/a nuisance. :) I also have my friends at church, who pray for me on a daily basis (something I’ll be eternally grateful for), the administrative staff at Jewell who go out of their way to help me, and the list goes on and on. 

I guess what I’m saying is, I didn’t realize how much I would miss that support network. From the casual cups of coffee, to the ranting to Shelly King (you knew you’d get a shout-out eventually) to 2 a.m. Steak ‘N’ Shake runs, I didn’t realize how much of my mental sanity as I’ve dealt with these health problems has been dependent on the people around me and the support they provide.

Now the real thrust of this post, I miss my support network. I miss people who get just as excited as I do because a package came from the UK Coeliac Society, or not feeling awkward at a dinner party because the hostess made sure I have something, or just not feeling like I have to explain everything to everyone all the time. I also hate feeling like I’m boring people by explaining things, but I’m having trouble finding that happy balance. Does such a thing exist?

A few thoughts, on the Spiritual side

I had a rare chance to spend extra time in Bible study and prayer tonight. I often feel that I never have enough time, but tonight was wonderful and abundant.

I had had a terrible day, nothing in particular made it bad, just a series of little things that had me feeling miserable and sorry for myself by the time I got home. After dinner, and a little ice cream therapy with my housemates, I retired to my room, but I didn't feel like studying. I began by writing a letter, and turned on a little music. A couple of the lyrics from particular songs struck me, and I picked up my Bible to begin my reading.
When I was finished I flipped into the Psalms and just randomly stopped. I firmly believe there is no such thing as coincidences, and obviously I needed to see the verses that I saw tonight. In particular there are a few that have struck me.

"Cease from anger
  and forsake wrath:
   Do not fret - it only causes harm"
-Psalms 37:8

"A little that a righteous man has
  Is better than the riches of many wicked"
-Psalms 37:16

"But the salvation of the righteous is from the Lord;
  He is their strength in the time of trouble.
  And the Lord shall help them and deliver them;
  He shall deliver them from the wicked,
  And save them,
  Because they trust in Him."
-Psalms 37:39-40

After, I had turned on a particular set of songs I find help me to think through things, and this lyric in particular touched me;

"O Gaze of a Love
 So melt my pride
  That I may in Your house
 but kneel
  and in my Brokenness to cry:
Spring Worship unto Thee"
-Hymn, Jars of Clay

I just wanted to share the peace that had entered my heart tonight because of these words from God, and even these words of worship from men. Sometimes I struggle with my faith, because I feel I am alone in what I am pursuing, but I need to be reminded that as long as I have God, I am never alone.

Excursion Week

Okay, I admit it. I’m behind. It’s crazy and surprising, but I’m a little busy over here. Anyone who knows me well is now laughing. Hysterically. 

As part of our program we take a few excursions, tours, and other such fun things. I’ve posted the photos from all of our excursions to a site where you can flip through them without having to backlog the post.

 So all of this is from three weeks ago!

1st: Shakespeare Tour

What’s the connection between Shakespeare and Oxford? If you’re thinking “none” you’re wrong. You might be the same as many “Oxfordians” but there’s a connection. Apparently, Oxford is exactly halfway between London and Stratford-Upon-Avon. So Shakespeare used to stay here when going back and forth. He was friends with the innkeeper and his wife, and it’s said that he had an affair with the wife of the innkeeper. It’s even claimed that he’s not just the godfather of the son of the innkeeper, but maybe the actual father. 

That’s neither here nor there however.

Our lecturer and guide for the tour, was none other than one brilliant Dr. Barry Webb. The man could make dirt seem exciting and interesting. And his passion for Shakespeare is incredible. He lectured four or five times in our classroom about various subjects, and each time I was literally on the edge of my seat. The only other person capable of that, is Francis Warner. 

Dr. Webb took us around town, and showed us things of varying interest, like Shakepeare’s bedroom, the courtyard a few of his plays were performed, and the pub where he used to enjoy his supper. A few members of our group promptly ordered a pint there, because that’s where the tour ended. Lora and I left. Like always. 

Shakespeare Tour!

2nd: London and The Globe

The very next evening (busy week) we went into London to see a performance of As You Like It at The Globe theatre. We arrived in London early, since traffic is unpredictable, and Penelope wished for us to have time to explore a little. So Lora and I did explore. We also found a cute little pub and had some supper. Amongst the things seen/experienced: Sir Francis Drake’s ship (much smaller than I expected...), Southwark Cathedral, where all the theatre greats have worshipped, and the Millennium Bridge. I also dragged Lora and Adam (both housemates) up and down the Thames trying desperately to get the right angle for a photo of St. Paul’s Cathedral. I was trying to recreate the shot from the painting of Handel’s Water Music, but I don’t think I succeeded. *overly dramatic sigh*

London Photos!

3rd: Tour of Pre-Raphaelite Oxford

The Pre-Raphaelites were a group in Oxford during the Victorian Era. They have close ties to the Oxford Movement, which was about when the Anglican church split in half, the Oxford Movement half being the Anglo-Catholic side of the Anglican church. The Pre-Raphaelites were heavy on extreme detail, and were obsessed with the Medieval Period, which means a lot of the architecture and symbolism in their paintings has to do with that Era. It’s fascinating to see some of the detail that is put into the paintings, and to look at the architecture, which looks like it could have been from the Medieval Period, but it’s only as old as the Victorian Era. Francis taught us how to tell the difference between the two types of buildings. Cool stuff! 

Now, I didn’t actually take any of these photos. I was too busy talking to Francis Warner. But Lora had forgotten her camera, so she took mine for the tour! I benefited, I get to have the photos, AND I got to talk one on one for a long time with Francis. :-)

Photos of the tour!

That about sums up that week in our lives. It was a busy one for sure. That weekend my sister, Rebekah, came up to see me, and I took her around Oxford and showed her a few things that I had learned, and told her about some of the places we hang out. That was fun for both of us! 

More coming soon!

Good Bread. Distinction: AMAZING bread.

Well, I had planned to post updates in order, including photos and information on some of the excursions and trips I’ve taken. 

But hang on, we’ll be right back after this message from our sponsor:

Mrs. Crimble’s. I love you. You make the best gluten-free white bread ever. Can you maybe distribute in the USA? No? Okay, I’ll settle for my local Sainsbury’s please... 

I’m visiting my sister right now, always an interesting adventure to explore her town. I’ve finally gotten the route from the station to her apartment. Today I proposed an adventure: grocery shopping in a new city. I took my time choosing a grocery store. I went in Marks & Spencer first just to see if they had anything. They didn’t, just like the one in Oxford. But Sainsbury’s was next door, and they’re fairly dependable. Even the Sainsbury’s Locals have a small section where you can get bread and cookies (and custard...). After finally locating the gluten-free section in the Reading Sainsbury’s, I began trying to decide between three breads. There was a Dietary Specials Brown Bread, Mrs. Crimble’s White Loaf, and some interesting looking pita bread from Sainsbury’s. In the interest of utilitarianistic bread (as in, bread that is useful for all meals... thank you Jewell for adding that idea) I immediately narrowed it to the Mrs. Crimble’s and Dietary Specials. Now the problem: I’ve heard good things about both brands. I’ve even had the Dietary Specials continental sweet rolls. They’re pretty much to die for. Or they would be if I was going to die for a food item. Well, it’s either that or Glutino’s wafer cookies. 

But I digress.

Normally I’m a pre-sliced loaf kind of gal, but I decided to be racy today and buy the plain loaf style from Mrs. Crimble’s. I’ve finally located Dietary Specials products in Oxford, so I guess I could always find their brown bread at a later point. I have no idea who if anyone in Oxford sells Mrs. Crimble’s.

So I pulled the loaf out, it’s dusted with flour on top, which reminded me of the bread a family friend, Rosemary, and I used to make when she was teaching me how to bake. It also smelled like that bread. In fact, this bread smelled like someone had pulled it out of the oven about an hour ago, a definite point in it’s favor. Then I began slicing. Now here’s the thing, most gluten-free breads crumble instantly when stick a knife in them, which is a big reason I prefer pre-sliced loaves. And I don’t mean crumbling like the odd crust falls off here and there, I mean entire hunks of bread disintegrate. It’s not a pretty sight. 

But Mrs. Crimble, you had an ace up your sleeve. Your bread didn’t crumble like that. In fact, the consistency while slicing was rather like that of one of those loaves I used to make back in the days of eating gluten. The excitement was beginning to bubble over. 

And then it happened, I stuck a bit of a crust in my mouth. My mother, I’m sure will laugh at this next part, because I used to HATE the crust when I ate regular bread. Unless it was from homemade bread that we made.  I cut my crusts off until I was 17. That was about the point I started making our bread, which meant I didn’t have to put up with gross crust anymore. The crust off this loaf today melted in my mouth. Literally. It didn’t have that super dry feeling that most gluten-free breads have, it was simply “bread”. When it’s squeezed, you can actually make an impression on the bread, that’s how moist this bread is. 

Well, at this point, I was beyond excited. So I quickly made lunch. The actual act of eating this bread as part of a sandwich made me feel like I wasn’t gluten-free anymore. It was incredible. I’m reluctant to get up and brush my teeth after having finished lunch, because that bread was THAT good.

For those of you who can’t relate to what I’m talking about, pretend someone has given you styrofoam to eat for your bread for the last ten months. Then imagine someone gave you real bread again. Yeah, it’s kinda like that, but even more extreme. 

So I reiterate, Mrs. Crimble’s: you make the best gluten-free bread I’ve had to date, and this is my tenth brand, and my fifteenth loaf that’s commercial. And this is both American and English brands. You win Mrs. Crimble’s, I am your devotee for the next nine months while I live in England...

Musings

After five days of almost non-stop work, it’s finally finished. The paper that is, and with it, the introductory course.

The introductory course was pretty amazing, Francis and Penelope Warner will forever reign as two of the neatest people in my mind. Their humor, generosity, humility, and genuineness are something I am extremely grateful for. Eventually I’ll finish processing all the information that they gave us in our two courses, Great Britain in the Elizabethan Era, and Great Britain in the Victorian Era. What we learned was fascinating, but I’m not sure it’s all soaked in. 

I’ve been writing a paper non-stop for almost two weeks, and I finally submitted it tonight. I feel highly inadequate, but we’ll see what the people grading my work think about said work. 

Now that I finally have my tutorials scheduled, I’m hoping to be able to start posting with a bit more regularity. I’ve finally settled in, and I have my tutorials scheduled. Maybe I can actually work out a schedule from now on. Maybe. No guarantees.

This term I am taking Music History: Medieval to Baroque, and Celtic Studies. Both tutors seem wonderful, and I am very honored to be able to have the opportunity to study with them. I met with both tutors this week to receive the syllabi and first paper assignments. So after finishing one paper, it’s time to start the next. Uh-oh... 

Settling in...

Oi to the vey. It’s been far too long since I posted. But life got busy, as it often does with me. I decided being so ill I couldn’t climb out of bed my first week in Oxford was a grand plan. And then proceeding week and a half has been spent in a dizzy spin of trying to settle in, make friends, and yada, yada, yada. 

However, I thought we would take a tour of the house. It’s pretty sweet. I love our house. It has five bedrooms (all occupied, sorry family, you may NOT come move in), a common room, and a kitchen. Our house definitely has some older appliances, like our ancient stove that doesn’t always like to work, and is missing some things other houses in the program have, like a dryer, or a dishwasher (oh wait.. we have five...) but it has a lot of charm. 

Anyways here are the photos of my room and then the house:

This is my desk, looking in from the door.

The bed.

Yes, that's a fireplace, complet with mantel.

View from the fireplace.

And now the house tour:

This is the front of our house. I'm the windows on top.

Front door. Even the flagstones on the front stoop are cute.

View from the front door.

In the kitchen. Lora. dong what we do a lot, sit at the kitchen table with our computers and pretending to be social. Yes, that's my Macintosh on the other side.

The Common Room. I don't spend a lot of time in here, but I do peruse that bookshelf a lot.

Other side of the room. Those curtains are actually really pretty.

The hallway to my bedroom. Can you guess which door is mine?

The bathroom. Tiny.

The stairs to upstairs.

That's pretty much the house. Isn't is lovely? I like it. Which is handy, considering I live here. ;-P

Preludes

So I’ve been a bit remiss in the updating realm. I promise it hasn’t been purposeful, I have plenty of excuses involving being ill, not having working internet, and Word eating my documents. I’m now switching to the Mac Word Processing program – Pages. Obviously far superior. :-P

But this is an actual update, not just a post to antagonize PC users out there. 

After leaving KC I spent about 5 1/2 days with my brother in Chicago. We discovered that he has become old and boring, which suited me just fine, because I was born old and boring.  We mostly stuck to quiet pursuits, but we did have about 2 or 3 adventures.

First, the Sunday I was there, my brother had the cute idea to drive to Wisconsin to surprise his wife, who was staying there with her parents while they took care of a few things. This required us getting up at 5:30 am. He’s charming, non? 

Our other fun day came on Monday. Matt (brother) and I decided to head down to The Chicago Museum of Science and Industry. This photo basically sums up that trip:

Yeah, I know. 

Tuesday evening was spent wandering downtown in Chicago while I waited for Matt to get out of his class. He’s working on degree number three. Clearly this need for school runs in the family. 

Wednesday kicked into high gear getting ready for the flight, which left at 6 pm that day. 

Oh yes, that flight. Here’s the ups and downs:

1. Virgin Atlantic in flight service rocks. 
2. One of few airlines that knows how to cater to the Celiac (or Coeliac) community. 

3. Heavy turbulence for five hours of flight = not a lot of fun. It was kinda like being on a roller coaster for part of the time. For those in doubt, I’m not the roller coaster type. 

4. Tea served two hours before landing is a great plan. Just saying.

5. Nasty customer service people who tell you despite your obvious injuries (I mean, I’m wearing a whiplash collar around my neck), you’ll have to manage your own luggage because she has no record of you calling to request help. Doesn’t matter that a call was made, if she doesn’t have a record of it, you’re still on your own. Fail Virgin Atlantic. Fail in large ways. 

Despite these ups and downs (literally in the case of the turbulence) I made it through Immigration and Customs without any issues. Leading up to coming over here, various folks made it sound like Immigration would be a nightmare. The following is my conversation with the Border Patrol Official:

Border Patrol: Where are you studying?

Me: Oxford

Border Patrol: What are you studying?

Me: Music.

Border Patrol: Great. Have a good time. *stamps passport*

Not really a big deal at all? 

However, I was greeted very enthusiastically on the other side of Customs by my older sister Rebekah. I felt fairly special. She then drove me to the other brother and sister-in-law’s place, on the outskirts of London. They live in between the last couple of stops on the Picadilly line. The other end from Heathrow. 

That was Thursday. I proceeded to nap and enjoy a fairly quiet evening.

Friday morning I babysat my nephews for a couple of hours, and then once they were down for their naps and my brother back at their house, I decided a bit of exploring was in order. I may be the only person to ever get lost in between their house and ASDA, but at least I have distinction. After finally locating ASDA (the English Walmart) I also located the gluten-free section and bought some of the most reasonably priced, and tastiest items I’ve had in awhile that are gluten-free.

Dear America, could you please catch up with England? Thanks, Karen. 

Saturday Rebekah drove over and she and I went sight-seeing in London. We decided to hit the Charles Dickens museum (long time obsession) and then the Buckingham Palace State Rooms. Obviously, you can’t take photos inside, but here’s the outside of the Palace, as well as a picture of me trying to get the Palace in the background. You can tell I wasn’t terribly successful. 

After the Palace we walked to Hyde Park (famed in storybooks everywhere) and took a few photos. This is where we learned, Karen really isn’t great at getting much beyond the people in the photo in the photo. I can’t get a monument or building in the background to save my life. 

Saturday night Rebekah spent the night at our brother’s place so we could get up Sunday and hear him speak at their church. He’s definitely the intellectual one. I’ll settle for being the artistic one in the family. :-)

If you think about it, keep a few folks from my program in your thoughts and prayers, they’re having trouble with the British Consulate. And that’s NO fun. 

Sunday evening we came back to Rebekah’s place, so I could catch a train to Oxford. Unfortunately, I picked up a flu bug and have spent more of the last 24 hours in bed than not. We’re going to drive up to Oxford tomorrow and see about getting me into the flat so I can go back to bed for portions of tomorrow. Another post is soon to come, with pictures of the flat, and hopefully of housemates. 

Stay tuned...

Goodbyes, Lessons, Expectations, and Gratefulness

I’m sitting in my brother and sister-in-law’s apartment in Chicago, blatantly ignoring the repacking I should be doing, in favor of writing this, my first blog post. I still have two days for that. Besides, have you ever tried to make your stuff fit back in suitcases? Especially when you didn’t pay much attention during the first time you packed? Yeah, get back to me when you have.

My last two weeks in Kansas City were rather bittersweet. See, I’m not exactly new to the overseas travel thing, but the last time I left, I wasn’t very attached to too many things and people. Oh sure, my family, but I had almost no close friends at that point. Certainly not close friends I saw on a regular enough basis to miss while I was away. Preparing for leaving was decidedly different this time.

The last two years have introduced me to many new people, places, things, and experiences. While I am thoroughly grateful for this growth as a person, I did find myself recently remarking to a friend “this whole leaving thing would be easier if I didn’t care about you so much”.  That remark has been thought  (and voiced) many, many times in the last two weeks, as I prepared to hightail it out of the country.  My life has been so rich with wonderful people, especially in this last year. Whether it’s family, friends, coworkers, teachers, or just random people I’ve met this last year, I know I have so much to miss, and while that makes me sad, I also know I’m blessed beyond imagination. It’s a confusing feeling.

People ask me if I’m ready to live on my own for a year. But then they try to explain away that I’m not really living on my own, I’m with other students, I’m near family, whatever the excuse is at that moment.  I am ready to live on my own, and trust me, it’s a scary prospect no matter how many family members are nearby, no matter how many fellow students are there with you. I get an extra helping of fear, because I’m going into this with more than my fair share of health problems. Sometimes I really worry about how those problems could drag down this year and mar the experience.

But that leads me to my biggest set of lessons from this last year, as well as to a major expectation for this next year.

1.     God never gives us more than we can handle. I can believe this with the full assurance of someone who has been stretched to the limit, not just once, but over and over. Each time I thought I had reached the breaking point, that it was time to give up my strength was renewed and I was ready to go further than before. I am still confused as to how I made it out of this last year alive, but I know that no matter the challenge, I don’t have to face it alone, and that’s a great source of comfort.

2.     I have an amazing support system. It’s a multi-layered system, but I think I sum it up best by saying: when you know you have more than one person you can call at 4:00 a.m. merely because your joints hurt, you’re zonked on medicine, and depressed, you’re an extremely well-blessed person.

3.     It’s okay to speak my mind. Just because I voice an opinion doesn’t mean someone will be upset. It might, but as long as I’m not going out of my way to be offensive, it’s probably okay. And not speaking up could cause more harm in the long run.

Now, there’s a long and complicated explanation behind those three points, but I’ll leave you with the Reader’s Digest version, my entire year summed up in three points. I’m actually a little impressed it didn’t take more! :-D

But my expectation for myself for this next year: I will not let myself drown in a sea of worry, a sea of depression, or any other sea I can come up with. I will take advantage of my support network, continue to speak my mind, and continue to grow as a person.