*Big long shocking bad words*

I just typed up a long thoughtful/thought-provoking post about Christianity and blogger lost it. Forget it. Just forget it. Calvinists rule.

Sup, G

Just checking in. I've been busy for the last few days and haven't had a chance to check email/blog/read blogs/CGR/stuff.

Sigh. I'll be happy when we've got the net at home. Should be this week. Then this blog will get fancied up big time, since I'll only have Lori trying to get on the computer I'll have time to do stuff.

The BT (British Telecom) engineer came today. Even though they had told me the fault MUST be internal, it wasn't. It was external. Our house is fine, it's just their dumbass cables. So someone should be out tomorrow to sort that. Then I'll be calling BT to get them to take a lot of money off of our bill.

Lori decided today while she was cleaning the dishes (since I've been relegated to drying duties)that she wanted to test her strength. She took the first thing she found into her hand, in this case a glass, and squeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeezed with all her might.

Then screamed. The poor baby cut herself on it. I had no idea what to do, so I thought about what my dear mum would have done in that situation. It didn't help. So I sent her upstairs to put her hand under the tap (with the water flowing, duh). Then discovered we didn't have any plasters (which Lori didn't understand, so band-aids for most of you). So I drove her to my parents house.

She didn't pass out, die or anything. Just cried and shouted and screamed. And bled, Lori adds.

Now she has a snazzy see through plaster, second skin style stuff. Futuristic. I'm jealous of it.

I've just been given into trouble. Lori wants me to stress that she was, in fact, not testing her strength. She was merely cleaning the glass over-vigorously. "And it crumbled in my hends!".

I replaced the "a" in hands with "e" because Southerners only have one vowel. Goodnight, you've been a lovely audience.

Drivin' on the Highway of Love

I took my first driving lesson today.

I didn't die. Nor did I kill anyone else. Though I nearly side-swiped a parked car. But Instructor (Instructour?) Frank grabbed the wheel, and we survived.

See, if Scotland were as great as America, people would actually park in parking places instead of the road. How is one supposed to drive when a car is parked in one's lane and a bus is coming at one in the other lane?

If America were as great as Scotland, I'd know how to drive already.

In all, I did a good job. I switched gears like a champ. I only stalled the engine once, and it's because (in Frank's words) I'm trying to drive like an experienced driver. But I have to learn to stop driving like an experienced driver and start from scratch. I'm suddenly 16 again, and my mom has parked the car on the side of the road and has forced me into the driver's side, me resisting with all my might. Only this time, instead of inching along, slamming on the breaks when I see a car within the next 500 yards, I'm speeding, and Frank is telling me that more than 6 Penalty Points within the first two years of passing my test will result in a revoked license. It's hard to turn back. I'm a speedster by nature.

* * *

I love my husband. See, I came home from work a few days ago to a clean house. My darling had tidied the living room and washed the dishes. Last night I didn't get home until late so I didn't get the dishes put away. Today after work, I came in, rolled up my sleeves and started to put the dishes away so I could wash the new load. I noticed there was food still on a plate. Oh well, I thought, I'll just rewash it. I picked up the next plate to find the same thing. I picked up the pan and saw dried green pea juice stuck to the side. I chuckled. I pulled all the silverware out and dropped it back in the sink without even inspecting. I saw dingy, smudgey light come through all the glasses so I simply pulled everything off the drying rack and put it back in the sink. I just smiled to myself, pleasantly amused. I was not annoyed at all. It was the thought that counted to me, and rewashing the dishes didn't bother me at all. The fact that Scott wanted to serve me by cleaning the house was the whole point. He is such an incredible man. It's worth doing the dishes again to know that I am loved and respected by such a guy. I'll casually mention to Scott tonight to kinda watch that in the future, but the whole thing was cute, and it made me say out loud to myself, "I love my husband."

Rainy Days and Mondays (written 2 days ago but never published??)

...this time, they haven't gotten me down.

Yes, it is a Rainy Day and a Monday. But I'm quite pleased with myself; I started my new job today, and I was fantastic. Yes, I do say so myself. See, I worked in a bakery/deli my sophomore year of college so this stuff isn't terribly new to me. Working in an actual coffee shop is a bit different, but I'm well familiar with how to make a cappucino (though I may not know if I'm spelling it right) or hand over a pastry. And I like to clean so the dishes and the table bussing isn't a problem. And the best part - no tax to figure in to the prices so everything is a nice round figure with no pennies or 5p coins to bother with. It's great! At any rate, I didn't tell anyone that I've worked in a bakery before so they all just think I'm really clever and that I'm catching on fast. In actuality, it's just really easy.

I like it.

The people I work with are all pretty nice, too. I kinda hope I become at least sort of friends with them. Stephanie, who is still in high school, is very nice and friendly, and Jean, who is the owner's mother, is also incredibly cool, but perhaps a little old for me. Gordon, the manager who got me the job, is really patient (so far) and is just as nice as always (perhaps a little more now that he has a reason to speak to me.) So, you know, the new job is magnifique or something close to that.

Scott and I had a really great weekend. We dated. Having never lived on the same continent, we've never dated. We've never ordered a pizza and rented a movie. We've never stayed out all night on the town. This weekend we went on one of our first dates. (I'm excluding the honeymoon because that doesn't really count as dating even though we went out a few times.) Friday night when he got off work, we got dressed and went to a late dinner at Pizza Hut (he had chicken wings, since he hates cheese) and then saw Saw at the midnight showing. I'd seen it before, but he hadn't. I thought it was great and scary and creepy and all; his response at the end was "Well, that was pish." Men. Boring men. Go see it for yourself and tell me what you think.

Saturday night we rented Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind and Good-bye Lenin and laid on the couches and ate snacks til late at night. We watched one movie Saturday night and the other Sunday night. It was a right good weekend.

....

I've noticed my blog has become a "What's-up-with-the-McFarlanes" blog instead of a "What-do-the-McFarlanes-think-about" blog. Sorry. I don't think much now, I mostly just feel and experience. I'll start thinking again after all that stuff is sorted.

Cheerio.

Hey, It's the Sun, and It Makes Me Smile

The rare Scotland sun is shining down on me today.

Brightly.

I rested on the couch this morning and when I opened my eyes, I thought new lights had been turned on in my house. But it was just the sun. My father-in-law picked me up to take me to their house, and I didn't recognize the way because I've never seen it so lit up. Once a picture of the roundabout in the rainy dark flashed in my head, I located myself in Port Glasgow. I'd never have recognized it otherwise.

The sun is good. Thank you, Jesus.

Well, in my last post I was a bit of a Negative Nancy. Today I'm much more of a Positive Pam. I have good news.

I have a job! I will begin Monday working at Flava (pronounced FLAY-vah, like I'm a GANG-sta) Coffee Shop. An easy job. A no-thinking job. No data to report, no calculation (except change, which the till does for you-- and no tax added too. Easy peasy pie), no computers... Just me in black trousers serving customers a warm cup of tea and sweeping the floors now and again. I'll find a computer job later-- for now, I'm just saving up for Paris.

Yes, Paris. I'm going to Paris with the ladies from the church on 7 December. I'm gonna practice ma française avec les garçons dans les pubs au les cafés.

I also now have money to go see The Polyphonic Spree. Yes. Finally. I've been with the Spree since they began-- I even have a promo copy of "The Beginning Stages..." that I received with some Tripping Daisy stuff I'd ordered from the now non-existant Deadfly Merch. This, my friends, means I've owned The Beginning Stages before any of the rest of you. And finally I shall see them. It's a bit necrophiliac--it's like I'm finally seeing Tripping Daisy, long dead, in its afterlife, singing with the angels.

I should get some hits after using that word...

In other news, Scott is going to a videogame-playing party tomorrow, and I shall be left alone at the house bored. I might con him out of some of his money and go to Glasgow to do some shopping. Anyone wanna come with me?

That's it for now. Friends in Arkansas, I miss you.

Husband Lesson(s)

Lesson Number One:

It's always your fault ;).

Just apologise. Even if you're absolutely certain you were right. Say sorry. Having a wife who still thinks of you warmly is far more important than being right about some little driving thing.

Lesson Number Two:

Never.

Ever.

EVER.

EVAH.

Take your wife on driving lessons.

I didn't think it'd be as bad as other guys had advised me. But all the love, compassion, tenderness and patience in the world go out of the window when a woman INSISTS that she didn't just let the wheel slide through her hand, even though you just watched her do so.

Lesson Number Three:

For some reason, girls think that it's perfectly legitimate to make us wander around shops full of candles, tea pots and bed linen for a few hours, but when it comes to spending 5 minutes in a used cd shop, this is the most boring and unfair thing anyone has ever been subjected to.

Don't point out this contradiction. It's obviously not the same thing, moron. The candles, tea pots and the like are for you too, aren't they? Uh huh.

Well, I'm off to work. I'm working extra hard to get promoted/moved onto the dayshift soon. So cheerio. I'm going to go in early.

a ~wee~ update

It's another day, and I file it into the "Not Good" folder with all the rest. The "Good" folder is indeed starting to fill, but the "Not Good" is still fatter.

Wife Lesson #4: Never under any circumstances let your husband teach you to drive a standard. It will always end in pain.

Scott and I had the brilliant idea this morning to take me out driving. So we went to a car lot, and I got behind the wheel. Mistake #1. I have no problem with driving on the left side of the road, and I've driven a standard before, when Carol, my trusty old Ford Taurus, was in the shop. The problem was with all the rules in this dumb land. I couldn't "control" the wheel "correctly"; I wasn't "feeding" it with my hands or something. Scott kept telling me I'd get a "minor fault" if I did that in the driving test. At one point he said, "You just failed your driving test." Arg. I gave up at that point, and we officially had our first fight.

Then we went to Argos where I got myself a "whirly-gig" and a hair dryer. That part was good.

Then the issue of my job came up. I have sort of been offered a job at a coffee shop in Gourock, the town next door, but the hours will be daytime hours while Scott will still be on evening shifts. Scott mentioned me possibly working elsewhere (T-Mobile). I was already emotional, and I burst into tears. I just want this job, because it will be easy, and I'll have weekends off, and I know the manager, and I won't have to go through a long 6 week application process..... Scott told me to take the coffee shop job. But I was reminded of how little time we'd get together, and I cried for a long time.

Then my mobile went off, and the song it plays when it rings cheered me up. I danced to it for a moment before answering. It was the Job Centre, where one must apply for a National Insurance number (similar to a Social Security number) before one can work. They set up an interview with me (to prove my identity and right to work in the UK) for 25th October.

Scott had to leave for work then (and I just realized he left without his lunch--one sec--gonna text him...) so he took me to his parents house and dropped me off. I phoned the manager at the coffee shop and will go see him today or tomorrow.

The day has potential for getting better, doesn't it? I might have a job. This is good news.

I love my husband. Wife Lesson #5: Say you're sorry. If you're not sorry, then pray.

Wife Lesson #3

Just do it your way. Hear advice, but chuck it if it's not for you.

Wife Lessons with Lori

I admit we've been bad posters. We apologize for the lack of new reading material, but I promise you, once we get broadband set up at the house, we will be back to usual, posting far too much for anyone to be interested in reading.

Also you can expect a new look soon, as "Pre-Marital Blogging" has turned over a new leaf, and I don't have a job.

Last time we spoke, I was feeling depressed. This has subsided immensely. I've felt much better in the past couple days than I was at first. Though I had a sore throat and now have no voice. That part's still pretty rotten. I met one of my new neighbours today, and I sounded like a goat. She's gonna think all Arkansans sound like goats.

I'm starting a new series: Wife Lessons with Lori. In this series, I will list small things that I have learned as a new wife--stuff I didn't expect and I don't imagine many pre-lyweds expect, especially the wifey-to-be types. These won't necessarily be amazingly profound, but hopefully helpful to any pre-lyweds out there.

Wife Lesson #1:
Whether you thought you were a baby before or not, once you're a wife, you can't be a baby anymore. Sure you can use your feminine power to coerce your husband to get out of bed in the mornings to go turn the heat on for you, but don't expect him to put up with your distaste for peeling off the skin of chicken thighs. I think maybe it's called Wife Power, but suddenly you must embrace all those things that you hated doing before (laundry, cooking, cleaning, whatever it may be). It's time to get over it. I knew all this in my head before marriage, but now I'm learning by experience that either the skin comes off or you eat it. And with WeightWatchers, the skin adds, like, 2 POINTS per thigh.

Wife Lesson #2:
Your money is no longer your own. Nor is his his. And worse, your credit is no longer yours but his. And even worse, his is yours. So what does this mean? It means gone are the days of frivolous buying or depression-shopping. If you're feeling loney and bored and all your clothes make you look like a wrinkly rolly hippopotamus, you would be unwise to take it out on a new coat or new shoes. Because imagine how annoyed you'd be if he came home with a new video game he hadn't asked your permission for. (For the record, this has not happened to us. I've just realized what could happen if it did.)


More Wife Lessons to come. I thought of several the other evening while I was juggling washing the dishes, boiling the chicken, and vacuuming the living room, but my mind is full, and probably the most important Wife Lessons I've learned have gotten lost somewhere in there.

Feel free to leave your own Wife Lessons in the comments. Let us all help one another!

Second-to-Last House in Greenock

*Introduction

We are here in Scotland. Details below.

*Scotland
It's rainy and cold. VERY cold.

*The Hoose
I love our house. As Scott already mentioned, it is well Ikea-fied. Our coffee table (which my manly husband put together last night) is so hip. The kitchen is my favourite room so far though. There are green tiles on the walls and orange terra-cotta coloured tiles on the floor. We accented in deep red and it looks amazing. We put two red mats on the floor and a red vase and with my red dishes, it looks smashing.

And get this-- my bedroom is PINK! No kidding! The walls are painted ivory and pink. Soft pink, like the pink in our bed. Our bedroom is decorated in pale pink and pale brown, if you can imagine that. It's not my favourite room just yet because its not finished but its a close second.

The living room is next. That is how I shall comfort myself tonight when Scott goes to work. Decorate the living room. In deep wine red and earthtones.

*The People
I've had hundreds of invitations to friendship. We shall be attending our first couple party this Saturday. It's exciting. Scott and I along with Alan and Sherri, another newlywed couple will be dining with Debbie and Niall at 7. I'm very excited. Margo, one of the ladies in the church (who is by the way, the hippest grown up I know), encouraged me to call anytime to hang out or go to lunch or go shopping. Being married is weird. Grownups consider you their friend now. I quite like it. Now I just look forward to seeing my beloved Sarah and Jonathan and meeting Bryce and Ashley. We'll have to arrange something soon.

We're also planning a Housewarming/Halloween party for Halloween. Coool eh?

*Scott and Lori
We as a couple are doing very well. It's so nice to have Scott around all the time. He makes me laugh a lot, and he's so much goofier now that we are married. I love that about him.

Lori as an individual however is feeling pretty down. I don't think its quite the homesickness yet, as its just the feeling of being out of place. I feel pretty ... foreign. I feel helpless. I feel like I've lost my sense of self. I can't do anything for myself- I don't have a job, I can't drive, I don't know how to use my (new!) mobile, I don't know people, I don't know where I am... I fully depend on Scott for EVERYTHING, and I mean EVERYTHING. Down to how to turn the stove on. Down to holding me back from stepping out in front of cars (pedestrians don't have the right-of-way here). Down to leading me around at church so I'm not left standing alone and having to figure out where to go and who to talk to. I feel like Mary's little lamb. I feel pretty useless.

Scott swears I'm not useless and reminds me that I've put together our whole house and have vacuumed and washed dishes and so forth.

At any rate, it's hard. But it's really good at the same time. I love my in-laws, and I love my coat. :) Most of all, I love my Scott, and I love my Jesus. Those two guys are the ones who will get me through this. And that bottle of Tylenol isn't hurting, either.

*Conclusion
My Scott just got back from the bank. I'm gonna go kiss him.

Sweet, Sweet Cable Modem

I'm back to my fast connection. Aaah.

Lori and I arrived safely, but tiredly. We then went to Tesco and bought lots of stuff like ironing boards and kettles.

Then we went to Ikea and bought things like vases and weird curly sticks and a door mat. All was fun. And quite economical.

Now I'm at home taking my asthma medicine (I'm not sure if it was the return to the dampness of Scotland or the fact that our house needs hoovered/vacuumed) and collecting some of my stuff. I should head back for Lori, it's time for Ikea 2 : This Time It's Personal.

We're buying tables and stuff.