Black Friday

I am thankful for: air travel, which is a very cool concept overall, but why does international air travel involving connections have to be a pain in the ass all the time? Perhaps it's some sort of carbon emissions karma or something. Or perhaps receiving luggage = expect delays. And I'm always seated by the screaming three-year-old whose mother is on crack and has no control over the kid who is smacking me on the leg with her pink stuffed poodle. And then seated behind a large woman in sweatpants who deems it appropriate to YELL her philosophies about life in Houston compared with life in Manhattan, Kansas during a 10pm flight to Wichita. I asked her to quiet down and she laughed in my face.

Like most expats, the first steps on my native soil is always a confused mix of shock and comfort. Running through the Houston airport, dodging blobs of fat hanging off bodies and trails of children smacking one another, the scent of french fries in the air, was as cleansing as a yoga breath. Aah, the consistency of American airports at holiday time.
I thought the television was kidding when I first heard the advertisement for JC Penneys, 'opening Friday at 4am'. Then the same for Kohl's. So when my mom and I drove past the latter yesterday, I found it photo-worthy. Who the hell goes shopping at 4am? Is consumerism really that rampant to force bodies that should be sleeping off their food comas into the wild of holiday shopping? I have yet to hear if these tactics paid off.

My mom and I went to Sam's Wholesale Club yesterday. This is the Midwest Costco, basically. I was floored, flabbergasted, shocked by the hugeness of everything. Two gallons of cranberry juice for $2.50. Six gourmet frozen pizzas for $3.00 Three liters of Heinz ketchup for $4.00. A pound of cheese for $2.00. Who in the world needs this size of anything unless you're running a restaurant? Oh, right, the people who are buying these things. In the twenty or so minutes that we were there, I counted NINE people who were not overweight. Nine. And this is the day-after-Thanksgiving crowd. When did America become a nation of gluttons? Granted, I am in the Midwest and it is Black Friday, but I don't remember seeing people this big when I grew up here. I went to the gym last night and was one of three people working out, and one of the guys works at the gym.

I wonder where the voice of the normal people lies. It seems that people are either overweight or underweight; the curse of the size 20+ versus the curse of the size 00.

Subject change. The number 1-ranked college football team lost last night, and tonight KU plays Mizzou and the television has already started showing the tailgating parties at Arrowhead Stadium in KC. This will be damn exciting. The rivalry dates back to the civil war (Kansas was a free state, Missouri a slave state) and people are bringing up all sorts of stuff.

Happy Thanksgiving.

Finishing a book is just like you took a child out in the back yard and shot it. - Truman Capote

This is what the sky looked like this morning when I went on a walk. I was intending to say goodbye to the seals, but none were out as the water was rough and jumpy, and the waves nearly reached the sidewalk. Shetland behaved today; sunshine all day and a nice breeze coming through our tiny windows. I heard the seagulls outside today, and the toll of nearby church bells, both of which I block out on a daily basis. It will be weird going back to Kansas, the polar opposite of the island life.

Saturday was spent Christmas shopping and watching a heartbreaking Scotland v. Italy football match. It was a Euro 2008 playoff game, and Scotland played well, especially against a team of diving cheats. (It always shocks me to see that a normal bump sends the ragazzi sprawling onto the field, grabbing their whatever, rolling around, wailing, embarrassing themselves). One would think that referee school would include special clinics on how to officiate a match involving the Italian football team. I adore all things Italy but the cheating and chaos that surrounds their 'national sport' needs to be controlled and the refs need to learn to not fall for their vomito. Pardon the rant.

Yesterday we went to Hillswick in the northern part of the island to the St. Magnus Hotel. It's a fabulous Norwegian design, and the wood was shipped on steam boats from Norway. Every Sunday they do a 'carvery', which at the St. Magnus means an all-you-can-eat feast of Shetland lamb and Scottish pork, ham and beef, veggies, potatoes, and Yorkshire pudding. I'm not a massive meat lover, but Shetland lamb is gorgeous. The locals say it's got something to do with the heather and the seaweed, and the fact that the sheep and lamb here are allowed to roam free and hang out wherever they wish. That and that the animals here are treated like royalty. The flavor and velvety texture are amazing. We arrived at 2:30 and by the time we left at 4, it was pitch-black. There's nothing like being in the middle of nowhere in the dark to really feel secluded.

I chose this title because I am having a tough time putting the recent book to rest. The new one is plodding along but I am forcing it a bit. A day of flying will be good for it. I love flying - the time alone, just you and a selection of horrible Hollywood blockbusters and a stack of chick magazines. Below, this morning's sunshine in a sepia - fun with iPhoto.

The earth laughs in flowers. - Emerson

It's a stop-gap week. Life is full of these. Like when you're waiting for someone. Or a call back. Or it's the night before a test or a speech or a course and you're ready but can't get to sleep. The night before you leave on vacation. The aching moments before telling someone you don't want them in your life anymore. These all share this same painful but ephemeral concept of time, of loitering around til the action begins.

I am nervous about going home. I haven't been in the US for longer than ten days at a time in over six years, and a month seems a long stretch to fill. The sheer choice within the aisles of the Wichita Sam's Club will have me salivating, and the opportunity for 24-hour drive-thru Taco Bell and Krispy Kreme, and my parents' plush gym, and everyone being nice all the time - sigh. And there is something eerily wonderful about the consistency of my hometown.

Then I get back and the world changes. This glimpse of island life has me thrilled to be back on the mainland. I miss trees. I miss the thick woods of northern Scotland. I miss supermarkets that don't run out of food on Friday afternoons. I miss having friends. I miss the cinema. I miss Italian restaurants. Inverness looms as this holy grail of peacefulness and beauty and ease of existence. Only a few weeks left to pack up life, again, and move on. Inverness will be my ninth city in twelve years.

The above photo is of wildflowers growing along a wall in Obidos, Portugal. I haven't altered it in any way. This photo makes me happy, and as the earth isn't laughing in Shetland today, I figured I'd put it out there to help.
FYI: I will be flying 8,514 miles (return); the resulting emissions are 1.92 tonnes of CO2; the cost to offset (Climate Care) is £14.40.

Storm force 10 northwesterly winds will gradually ease to force 7 or gale force 8 overnight.

Focus has been difficult today. Locals kept talking about 'da stoorm' and now it's here. They say it's a 10 on the 'gale-force winds' scale - 12 is a hurricane - and since about 5 this morning our cement building has been pelted with branches, random objects from the construction site next door, plastic trash bins, and this odd rain/sleet/hail/snow mixture that is whirling around in circles, desperate to turn into a mini-tornado. Cars in the parking lot are dancing on their tires. Light poles are belly-dancing. The TV says gusts hit 93 mph today. Now I'm a Kansas girl and I know my wind, but this is beyond anything I've ever seen. The one tornado I've been in wasn't this loud.

The noise is a constant, low drone, spiced up every few seconds by a thumping/whirring, similar to a gigantic pinwheel. A higher-pitched huff joins in when it so desires. This along with the arbitrary smack of a gust against the building and the whistling through the tiny space between the window and its sill. These winds are in harmony; the pitches are in thirds. I've never thought wind to be melody.

I went outside earlier and attempted to video the sea. I've never seen water flow out from the shore before. It resembled a white leopard, waves in reverse, powering out to sea. The air was so fresh, with the faint scent of salt. Five minutes outside and I felt like I'd just had a facial. (There's an idea, Shetland Beauty Tours.)

No wonder there are no trees on the island.

Shocking.

I thought the internet was broken when I read that the Jayhawks are currently ranked number 4 and 5 in the College (American) Football Polls. This is an a rare feat for a school best known to choke in March. (Pre-season number 4 this year, by the way.) Can't you just feel the testosterone in the above image? (courtesy of the KU website, bless them, in case I get sued for using it.) Oh, and a Nuggets - Knicks game was on Scottish TV last night. Weird.

Get rid of the stuff that's not working. Just pare it down until it's a beautiful thing you can hand in, probably late, to your editor. -Kurt Loder

Daylight Savings Time, whatever. It's still dark at 4pm. When you've only got a few hours of daylight to play with, and these hours are becoming fewer and fewer, you have to take advantage. Matt and I went up to Unst and Yell last weekend. It's less than 2 hours, including ferrys, to get up to Saxa Vord in the north of Unst. On a map, it looks ages away, and frankly feels worlds away. Saxa Vord is an old RAF base that is currently being renovated into a holiday resort and will be a really cool place to be in the 'simmer dim' summertime, when the light lasts until the wee hours of the morning. We met some charming locals up there (including a woman from Florida, of all places) and got a taste of how remote it is, as fewer than 900 people live on the island. Lerwick feels like Manhattan after this place.

On Saturday we headed to the Hermaness nature reserve, which is home to numerous birds, including puffins. Above is the peaty marsh that we slogged through trying to hike to the lighthouse. There is something incredible about standing at the edge of Britain, staring at the water, when the only thing out there is the North Pole. Many signs point to "Britain's Most Northerly..." (church, lighthouse, sheep, etc.) To live here would take a special sort of self-sufficiency, as well as the tough skin to deal with everybody knowing your business all the time. Imagine being 2 hours from the nearest bank, or supermarket, or coffee shop, and living at the mercy of the ferry schedules. I admire those who live this sort of life. The wind howls at a pitch I've never heard before. But the sky goes on forever. Below was the view back to the car through the peaty marsh. Pretty amazing.

We drove all the roads in Unst and got the ferry down to Yell, stopping at what is probably Britain's Most Northerly Coffee Shop, the Wind Dog. It's a great little place with internet access, sandwiches, and a small but well-stocked lending library. I love these sorts of places, which are all around Shetland, these one-stop shops that are the saving grace for weary travellers in dire need of a caffeine fix. Below are "Da Twelve Shetland Apostles": Artist, Howdie, Preacher, Poacher, Crofter, Knitter, Boatman, Banjoman, Roadman, Smuggler, Birdman, Whaler. There's Shetland heritage on one wall.

Ponies, ponies. They're weird little things. I'm not one for small things - those mini bananas, or baby corn, or anything that's smaller than usual. It's probably due to my own fear of things smaller than me, which there ain't much of in this here world. The ponies are quite friendly, and as soon as they see a human they immediately come over to say hello. Our cleaner raises them, and she and some of the other pony farmers pay a horse whisperer to come once a month from the mainland. Apparently these ponies are intelligent little guys, and are inquisitive because they feel superior to humans. Hmm.

On that note. Here's Matt with the typical Shetland Bin. Yep, that's Shetland English on the sign. Matt loves it as it's close to the dialect from Deeside, where he's from. I like it because I've had to deal with the dialect from Deeside, so it's not been too difficult for me to understand when it's spoken. Shetland was given to Britain as a dowry, essentially, from Norway, so it's not surprising that they use so many Old Norse terms.

Matt and Caroline and I went into town for a cup of coffee this afternoon. I'm feeling nostalgia for this place already. I leave for the US on the 19th and won't be back til Christmas; after that, 3 weeks in January (including the Up Helly Aa Viking fire festival!) and we're gone. I admit that this place has worked wonders for my writing. I'm now in a groove that might not have been possible in a place with distractions, such as bookshops or nice weather. Or things like a social life.

The second novel goes to my agent later this week. I have a couple of phone interviews with people this week, then the finishing touches and it's ready. Various lawyers, estate agents, tourism boards, and friends have been so kind to help with this book. I wonder if all works of fiction are the result of many, not just one.