Change is, even when not desired, inevitable. 

If you know me, you know that I am an avid supporter of Lance in his cycling and the work he does in the cancer arena.  Since 2002 I have volunteered with the LAF in a variety of ways, both publicly and quietly in my life.  I keep a supply of wristbands to hand out to those who need or want them, direct survivors and their families/friends/caregivers to the LAF for support and resources, have given talks on survivorship and the LAF, and so forth.    Not only has my money gone to the LAF but much of my time and energy over the years. 

If you know me, you know the inspiration and support I felt from Lance and the LAF during my cancer experience and the dark time of resultant physical, spiritual, emotional and financial fallout from that experience.  Truly I do not know where I would be if it had not been for that support.

Today Dave and I rode the Austin LiveSTRONG Challenge, Dave’s second and my fifth.  I first rode the event in 2002, following my cancer diagnosis in 2001.  Back then it was called The Ride for the Roses. 

Over the years I have ridden this event with Dave, with others by my side and on my own.

Years 2002 through 2005 were magical, inspirational, and powerful.  The logistics of the events in those days were well planned and executed.  The events themselves had spirit and substance.  The expos held on Friday and Saturday in conjunction with rider packet pick-up were vibrant, jammed-packed with vendors of various natures.  I have spent hours at expos in past years.

There have been bands at the ride start in the past, along with speakers like Bob Roll and Robin Williams (who kept those of us waiting for our stage to start absolutely in stitches).  One year Lance simply read the LAF Manifesto to the crowd of 7000+ in the early morning stillness.  Magical.

I was fortunate to have participated in the rides those years.  They were indeed special.

Change is inevitable and organizations grow and perhaps change their focus.  Unfortunately, sometimes that growth comes at the sacrifice of qualities that were at the very core of the organization. 

Dave and I both commented that this year’s expo was lackluster in comparison with those in the past.  Apparently we were not the only ones; I overhead a woman comment “They’ve really turned this into a business” as she and her party were leaving the expo hall.  Very few vendors were to be seen and those that were in evidence had little to offer.  There were only one or two booths specifically aimed to the survivorship level.  I did not notice LAF booths where one could pick up informational material; I distinctly remember picking up an LAF annual report at a previous expo.  There was nothing like this to be seen.  We were in and out in a little over half an hour. 

Hmmm….

Today’s ride attendance is reported to have been 3200.  That is less than half of the numbers from previous years; other rides were easily 7000+.

Fewer numbers, less collective energy.

Today’s event parking was a shambles.  There was no one to guide us to parking.  In the early morning darkness, we followed other cars into what turned out to be a small business parking lot.  Luckily we were able to squeeze the truck into a spot with the help and patience of the riders parked around us.  Why was no one on duty to direct parking to a big lot nearby (which we could see when it became light)?  At the previous venue there was plenty of easily accessible parking and loads of folks very expertly directing traffic.

The ride was held in Dripping Springs, south of Austin, as opposed to east of Austin starting from the Exposition Center off 290 East.  Why the change in venue?  Because Lance has a ranch in Dripping Springs?  We camped nearby; however, for folks staying in Austin it was quite a drive to the event.

This leads us to the routes.  Many people commented, including Dave (who is extremely fit) that the routes seemed poorly chosen for recreational cyclists.  This area is much more challenging with steeper elevations, cattle guards, low-water crossings, etc.  Fine if one is a kick-ass rider like Lance, but what about the rest of us that are much less accomplished riders? 

What about the riders just out of chemo that one saw in past years?  What about the kids being towed in carts, handkerchiefs or hats covering the bald heads, blankets around them to keep them cozy in the early morning chill?  What about the folks perhaps not really fit at all but riding because of a lost loved one?

The routes on this year's ride certainly seemed to not take these people into consideration.

What a remarkable and giving act it would have been if Lance had ridden the 20 or 10-mile routes with those folks.  Sure, he rode the 90 miles in an impressive time and yes, I guess many of those on that route were the top fundraisers.  But what about the little guy on his bike with the "In Memory" sign of a mother/sister/friend?  Or the older grandmother-looking lady toodling along with a similar sign?  Can you imagine how much it would have meant to them, perhaps brought comfort to them, to have Lance cruise up and say "Good morning" or to pass a rider with a yellow "Survivor" sign on and say "Hey, way to go!"?   

Did we just miss it or was there no national anthem played beforehand?  In prior years there would be a band or a solo artist performing this.  Was there no welcome speech by Lance this year?   Perhaps we were just so far back in the start group we could not hear/understand the words being spoken.

The post-ride party area was much smaller (okay, fewer riders so I understand that) and almost claustrophobic.  I missed the open feel of prior events…the fields, the big stage were bands would be playing.  There was a stage set up but no performers, just someone touting the benefits of FRS, an energy supplement endorsed by Lance.  There did not seem to be people mingling and the vendor booths were the same as at the expo.

This LAF ride could have been any charity ride, and some of those others have been better executed, in our opinion.

There was one memory that will be with me from today’s ride, one that is characteristic of so many memories I have from the years of the Ride for the Roses.  On starting out, there was a woman on the sidelines taking photographs.  She was wearing a kerchief over her bald head, obviously a recent recipient of chemo.  Our eyes met and I gave her a thumbs-up and fist in the air in defiance of the beast we call cancer.  She smiled, nodded and returned the thumbs-up.  Strangers in passing, sisters in survivorship.  No words were exchanged between us, but we knew what we were saying to one another.  This is the spirit of the Ride for the Roses that I remember. 

Today I was feeling the loss of my beloved cousin Karen so much it was painful.  The absence of her presence in this world is at times unbearable.

To my darling Scotsman, thank you for being with me today and for understanding when the emotions from losing our Karen got the better of me during the post-ride hours. 

To my girlfriend Melanie, thank you for your text and your spirit today.  Your message of encouragement and support early this morning was what I needed.  Today was for you, too, baby.  You are an amazing, strong and beautiful woman and I am proud to call you “girlfriend.”

Change is inevitable.  Sometimes growth is at the expense of the core qualities and attributes that are shed as a result of that growth.   To me and others with whom I have visited it seems the LAF is becoming less targeted at survivorship support and more of a politically-based vehicle.  Wasn't the original concept to support survivors living with, through and beyond cancer?  There is the opinion that the organization is spreading itself too thin these days and that the original focus has been blurred. 

It is my hope that the LAF has only gone global and that it has not “gone Hollywood.”

If we live long enough, we will lose someone.  I’m talking about losing someone to death, the loss when another soul departs this Earth.

If you’re reading this, you have lost someone, sometime.  It happens.

What do you do?  Most people grieve, rage at the Universe perhaps, and finally, hopefully, be able to remember the departed with fondness.  One learns this is the Cycle of Life and one moves on…always remembering the person who is no longer with us, but still…moving on with Life.

What about the other folks?  The ones who cannot get past that first stage of mourning, of loss, of emptiness, of dependence on the one gone, of weaving the departed one into the fabric of their own life through constant talking of them and not being able to recalibrate their own existence…instead basing their world on the soul departed.

Yes, I know we all deal with loss in our own way.  I’m not saying what is right for one person is right for another in this process.

Still, it seems such a waste of existence to be so wrapped up in, so still-clinging to, one who has been dead for a number of years.  Seems like the person still here is missing so much of the vibrancy, the texture, the colors, the realization of a full life for themselves.  Do all their friends tolerate or enjoy the constant referencing of everything to the deceased?  Does it become tiresome to them and perhaps distressing if they have recently lost someone themselves?

Does this result in a rather morose and depressed individual?  Someone who is insecure in their own right, unable to make their own way in the world, unable to even hold down a job?

I would imagine this occurs in varying degrees.  Perhaps the person can perform on a basic functional level and appear to have gotten past the loss and yet still be mourning on an internal level.  We all hear about the remaining partner dying not long after their spouse after a long-term marriage. 

If someone through the course of an 8-hour day mentions the departed at least once every hour and expresses their own existence in relation to the departed…can this be healthy?  This lamenter comes across as being sorrowfully depressed and, quite frankly, the listener can eventually feel bombarded and pummeled by so much negative energy; too much of “poor little me.”

Do we not owe the memory of the departed the honor of living a full life?  If one believes in an everlasting spirit of the departed, do we not owe them the right to be free?  By not keeping their spirit so close to us that it is restricting them from moving on to being fully at rest in the Hereafter?

Step outside your own sorrow.  If not for yourself but for your love of the departed, let them be free.

Let go.

Perhaps my viewpoint comes from being a strong person.  Oh yes, I have experienced losses.  I have mourned, cried, raged, lost my faith and reclaimed it, known that life would never be the same without the person and, yet, stumbled on through the haze, the fog, the sorrow…coming out on the other side knowing Birth, Life and Death are all part of our journey on this earthly plane.   

Is it a spiritual faith that allows one to come to terms with loss?  Is it being tough-skinned?  Is it being a survivor?  Is it being a Warrior?  Is it just being human?

I certainly do not profess to have the answers.  I feel for those who cannot let go, who yet cling to the departed.  My personal history causes me to feel some impatience with these people for allowing so many of the joys of each day flutter by without reaching out and grasping some happiness for themselves, clinging to that happiness as tightly as they cling to the memory of their lost ones. 

Each day is a gift, not to be squandered.  I have recently lost my beloved Karen.  I miss her more than I can express; however, the pain eases just a bit each day.  I can call her memory up now and not be sorrowful but smile instead.  She was so full of life, laughter and faith and we shared so much of that….I carry on now in a joyful life, laughter in my home and heart, and my faith restored.  I like to think she watches over me...that she is by my side when I need strength...that she gets a silly laugh when I do something goofy.  I still talk to her...when I hear the chirp of a tree frog in the evenings I say, "Hiya cuz, whatcha into?  What's happenin'?  I'm doing good.  See ya!"   Feel her presence?  Yes, definitely, but not as often as during the days immediately following her death.  Letting go; letting her go.  Instead of clinging, I try to honor her memory by living the way I did before she left, as I know she would want, and as I must…for each day I am here are a few more additional hours I have been blessed with since that day in 2001 when I met my own mortality.  I consider every day since that time to be “overtime,” to just be time I have been given as a bonus, an extension until my own “expiration date” comes up on the calendar of Life.

Should we not be at peace, loving, laughing and living to our fullest as we walk this Earth? 

After work this past Sunday we drove out to and around Lake Travis.  Not a pretty sight.  Where once was a vibrant, shimmering lake surrounded by majestic cliffs…well, I bet you could walk clear across the width of the lake area from one shore to the other in some places.  So many boat docks on the ground and so much ground showing.  Lots of “waterfront” properties with for sale signs out by the road. 

In case you haven’t heard, we’re in severe drought here in this part of the Lone Star State.  The lack of rainfall is being compounded by the fact that we have had 60+ days of temperatures over the 100-degree mark since June.  Ouch. 

This summer in Texas is a prime example of why I eventually wanted to be able to head north during the middle months of the year.

On the other hand, we’re having some very nice skies in the evenings.

Here it is Sunday, August 9, 2009, the day following the time trials.  Yesterday was a long, but fun, day.

Dave’s start time was posted as 10:45:30 AM, so we were up at 4:30 AM in order to get ready and make the 2+ hour drive to Castroville.  This would give Dave almost two hours there before his actual start. 

Four-thirty in the morning sure comes early, especially for a day off!  We were both up no bother, me waking up, getting a light bite to eat and preparing to be the driver/support vehicle/photographer for the day.  Easy for me…Dave was the one preparing and downing pasta at such an early hour.  Oh my!

We made our goal of leaving the house by 6:30ish AM and made good time until San Antonio, where we ran into construction delays and narrowing of the freeway down to one lane from three.  One would think that early in the morning there would not be much traffic, but try getting three lanes into one….yeah, right.

Once past that, we were cruising down the highway again through the rest of San Antonio and then heading west on Highway 90 to Castroville.  Castroville is a nice, kinda sleepy, little town with shady parks, shops, B&Bs, cafes, and the like.  We had been down there last week on a recon mission for this day, driving and then Dave riding the course followed by a nice lunch at the Castroville Cafe.

On arriving, I was pleased to see that parking “Big Boy” would not be a problem.  I have to say, I had some reservations about the organization of the event this year; however, the entire event and day were well planned.  Plenty of easy parking was available.  We selected a spot and Dave set about to the task of readying his bike with last minute tweaking, etc.  Once ready and changed into race gear, he went off for a wee warm-up ride.  About 20 minutes later he was back and it was time to think about heading to the start area.  He took off on the bike and I followed in the truck after being told that there was indeed spectator parking allowed at the start area.

YAY!

After I had parked at the start, I enjoyed taking some photos and just soaking up the atmosphere of bikes, bikes, bikes everywhere!  This, of course, with keeping an eye on the time and an eye out for Dave.  The event had a for-real start house this year…way cool!…just like at the Tour de France.  Nice touch!  Very thoughtful to have canopies set up for the riders waiting in line so they would have some shade.  Having picked out a good vantage point, I was able to capture a video of Dave taking off on the course.

The videos I shot can be seen at http://www.bebo.com/Profile.jsp?MemberId=4741977346

Once he was out of sight, I trekked back to the truck and intended on sitting listening to music, chillin’ out.  Well, after about five minutes I knew there  had to be another way to kill the hour until he would be finishing.  It was too freakin’ hot to just be in the sun, etc.  So “Big Boy” and I went into town to one of the quiet shady parks on a square.  I spent some time wandering the quaint shops, took some photos, munched an oatmeal cookie and by that time it was time to head back to the race!

Timed it just right to get a better parking spot and get positioned at the finish to again capture some video of Dave crossing the line

::: Z  O  O  M :::: 

He was mega-hot, even with cooling down on the bike a bit, so I made sure he had water bottles at the ready and got him, the bike, and his gear into the truck and a/c as soon as we could.  Back at the parking area, some results were posted but his group would not be up for a while.  We made the decision to head back home.

Gotta tell you, I sure was sleepy on the drive home but toughed it out and got us back safe and sound.  Talk about wasted and hungry yesterday!  Whew!  Long, long day.

Dave did 1:03:33 – that’s one hour, three minutes and 33 seconds.  A very, very respectable time.  Especially considering the heat, humidity, wind and the fact that it was a different/tougher course than last year.  In fact, he shaved three seconds off his time from 2008 this year. 

After settling in back home, Dave was off to the market for some beer, the first since in training for the TT.  Whoohoo!  He certainly deserves it!

We enjoyed some snooker last evening and are taking it easy today and tomorrow before being back at work on Tuesday.

I’m so proud of you, honey, and honored to be your support team at races.  You are such a warrior, such a cyclist, such a husband and partner!  You sure do have a BraveHeart!

Peace, all!

Dog Days?  The Dog Days of Summer?  It’s too damn hot for even the dog to enjoy these days.

We’ve had so many consecutive days of triple-digit temperatures I’ve lost count.

Even as a native Texan, this has been the most miserable summer I have experienced. 

Dry and energy-draining hot.

Baby-dog stays indoors most of the time.  I miss our evening walks around the facility together, but it’s still too hot to do that even in the later evening.

A customer comes in the office and I ask, “How are you today?”  The responses are quite often “Hot” or “Waiting for October.”

We did have a nice outing over the Fourth of July weekend, taking our rig back up to Rusk for a few days and enjoying the company of Cousin Kenny and Janna and Terry.  Dave and I also enjoyed refreshing dips in the pool at the campground!

We’re working nonstop pretty much July and August while our relief person is on vacation out of the country.  We have off this coming weekend and then will be working straight through until the first week of September.  We figured we might as well work and make the extra money…it’s too hot to do much else. 

October and November will see us back on the road a bit, taking vacation with three nice trips planned here in Texas.  Two of those are centered around bike events, one being the LiveSTRONG Challenge in Dripping Springs and the Tour de Gruene near New Braunfels.  We’ll be spending a week around Thanksgiving back in Rusk.  We really like that area – the cycling, the KOA where we camp, all the trees and the opportunity to spend time with Terry and Janna.

We’ve invited Ian and Rose over from Scotland and we are hoping they will come during that Thanksgiving time to share camping with us. 

Listening to “Me In Honey” by R.E.M.  They do have a unique sound.

Talks for dropping by.  Hope wherever you are it’s cool!

International travel is stressful.  It has its rewards, oh yes, but still … Every time I go to Scotland, I get sick.  ::: sigh ::::

May 15 2009 - We were up at about 4:30 AM this morning and soon headed to Edinburgh Airport in our nifty Vauxhall.  Realized at the airport that I had left a jacket at the TKR.  Wonderful.  It’s gonna be a good day!

Of course, there was no shuttle to take us from the rental car parking area to the terminal, so we hiked it with our luggage…just as it started raining again.

After a bit of a wait to board our flight to London, we were leaving Scottish soil together for the third time, holding hands as the wheels lifted as we do on takeoffs and landings. 

Yes, international travel is stressful.  Yet, for me, leaving Scotland is like leaving Heaven and returning to Earth.  Her grace, strength, beauty and mysticism have such a profound effect on me.  She has been very gracious to me in so many ways, including giving me so much healing of the spirit just when I need it.  Not only the land itself, but the family I have there.  Two stepsons of whom I am so fond and so proud, Ian’s lovely lady Rose for whom I feel a special bond, and our wee grandson Fionn.  Family.  I am such a lucky gal!

We were fortunate to upgrade to Economy Plus seats on the transatlantic leg of the journey and the extra bit of legroom made the trip much more bearable even without having a window seat.  The flight was in daylight coming Stateside as usual and the time of 7.5 hours was not a bad crossing.

I can always tell when we leave land and start the Atlantic crossing.  That first bit feels different…a bit bumpy and just different.  I look at the map at that point and, sure enough, we have just started over the water.  Perhaps a false sense of security, but I feel better once we’re over land again.

Dave and I have always said that if something should happen on these flights, at least we are together. 

Our layover in Washington Dulles was somewhat of a nightmare.  Dave’s bag decided to take a side trip to Denver and was not waiting for us.  We had to go to the Immigration Office and for half a second I had visions of them not letting him back in!  His Resident Card had expired but we had applied for the new one as required months before and were simply waiting on the new one to arrive.  I had brought all sorts of documentation to that effect and it came in handy.  A mind-numbing amount of time spent in layover in the airport (again, you can’t get OUT of the airport) in warm, crowded conditions, some mixed signals about which gate we were supposed to be at for the flight to Austin….aaaaarrrgggh!  I do NOT want to go through Dulles again.

The redeeming factor was that I was back in the UNITED STATES!  Yippiieee!  I figured being in Washington was just about as good as being in Austin.  At least we got that far.  Spent some time calling friends and family to let them know we were on American soil at least.

Hours passed and at last we boarded our flight for Austin.  Already travel-weary, the air conditioning was not on while we sat on the tarmac and there were what sounded like 20 screaming/crying infants in the row behind us.  Oh goodie.  Once we finally took to the air, the a/c kicked in, going to the opposite extreme of freezing everyone.  Folks were bundled up in every jacket they had…me including my hat.  The woman behind us was curled up under a blanket; you could only see a wee bit of the top of her head.

Never have I been so glad to be off a plane!   After 3.5 hours of basically torture and, I might add, no snack, it was divine to be on terra firma again.  After spending some time at the Austin airport filling out a report on Dave’s wandering bag, we eventually made it home in the wee hours of the morning.  We basically dumped the bags in the living room, took showers and fell into bed with our alarms set for the usual work-day time.

Yes, international travel can be brutal for me but I would not miss being in my beloved Scotland for anything.  It is truly a different world, one which I could adapt to and one that I keep close in heart and spirit during the time in between visits.  I hope you have enjoyed my ramblings and the photos.

I’ve been remiss on making these entries; there has been so much happening lately, but I’ll give a shot at catching up.

May 11 came early again; it was difficult to sleep late as the morning light arrives very early in Scotland this time of year.  Dave and I ventured to Two Thin Laddies again for breakfast; it’s hard to resist the temptation as it is so yummy and not an experience we get very often.

Dave ventured out to a bike shop on Lothian Road and I stayed at the flat, chilling out, listening to a Reiki CD I got in Aberdour and doing laundry.  It’s heaven to have the convenience of doing wash, but the machine is a washer/dryer combo and takes a couple of hours to do one small load of clothes.  I don’t mind; it’s so nice to have clean, dry clothes!

Later in the day we made appointments at Bizarre Ink for our tattoos.  I got my first one there during our 2007, and we both were going to get this done this time over.  Fortunately, we were able to book with the same artist who did mine, and we’ll go see him in a couple of days.  Cool!

We spent quite a bit of time simply walking through Edinburgh.  I love this city.  New and ancient, both in the same instant.  The weather was pleasant today and we had a good stroll, just soaking up the sights and sounds.

Today was Paul’s birthday and he came over to join us for dinner at Biddy’s and then spend the night with us at the flat.  Ian, Rose and Fionn popped in at the flat for a very fun visit after dinner.  We all had such a good time with each other and being constantly entertained by the wee lad.  My heart just swells with affection and honor when he walks up and hands me a book or something else he wants to share.  So, so special, it’s difficult to describe.  After they left, it was just me, Dave and Paul for the remainder of the evening.  Enjoyed his visit, although I was truly suffering with allergies and a nasty congested cough.  We visited, watched some TV and headed to bed shortly before midnight.

The morning of the 12th saw the three of us headed back to…you guessed it…Two Thin Laddies for our morning fare.  Paul had never been there, so it was a new experience for him.  I had not slept well and was still under the weather, so Dave headed to Kirkcaldy alone to see the aunts and uncles.  I truly hated not going with him, but really needed a day to rest and figured my presence with coughing, etc., would make the visits less than what they should be.  I snuggled on the couch in the flat with a blankie and watched, of all things, “The Vikings” with Kirk Douglas and Tony Curtis, dozing off and on. 

Refreshed a bit from my nap, I ventured next door to the church.  On our previous stay at TKR, I had wanted to go in the church but never managed to find the time.  Technically Catholic, I have not attended Mass in ages; however, I do “go to church” on occasion, this being my wandering into a Catholic church and sitting, thinking, giving thanks on my own terms.  The beauty of this church took me a bit by surprise; it was quite impressive and yet very welcoming, peaceful and joyous.  Karen constantly in my heart and thoughts, I lit a candle for her and asked that gentleness, peace and mercy be shown to her in these her last days.

Damn.  The tears still come when writing this.  She had said before we left that she would wait until we returned.  I had told her to go if she needed to.  Calling her every day from Scotland, the conversations were very short - “I love you, baby.”  “I love you, too.”  That was about it.

After Dave returned from visiting his relatives in Kirkcaldy, we sat outside at Biddy’s for a while and then got take away at a little Italian place down the street.  Back in the flat, we just chilled in the evening watching TV, updating our journals, looking at photographs….nice, relaxed evening.

The 13th saw us enjoying another “no plans” day, really, with the exception of taking care of some business in the morning and then our tattoo appointments at noon.  This was my second, a Bear pawprint on my left ankle.  Dave got his first, a very impressive thistle…the Flower of Scotland.  Kudos to our artist at Bizarre Ink for making it a fun experience and for being so professional.  No bothers with this one, just like the first one.

After takeaway lunch from Two Thin Laddies, we enjoyed some lazy time alone in the flat, even managing to sneak in naps.  In the early evening we were back once again at Biddy’s and then to Maggie’s for dinner.  We parted ways before reaching our snug abode, Dave going off alone to spend some time in a few pubs in his beloved Edinburgh.  I know he misses that and I’m glad he took the opportunity to get some alone time.  Funny, though, here he is in his country and I still feel protective of him.  I have no fear or anxiety walking the streets of Edinburgh alone, night or day, and I’m not the Scot!  But there I was “watching over” him in his native land.

Yep, guess I am my father’s daughter.  I can be anywhere and feel like it is home, like it is so natural.

The 14th was our final day in this amazing country.  I finally had a good night’s sleep and we awoke to an absolutely brilliant day.  By now you can guess where we had breakfast!  Dave made another trip to the bike shop on Lothian Road and I wound up the last loads of laundry, trying to take home more clean clothes than dirty ones since we would be working the day after arriving home.

After Dave returned, we again sallied forth on a walking expedition around Edinburgh.  So many people enjoying the Gardens this day.  Strolling along, I began to hear a drum!  As we neared, sure enough, there was a young man playing a djembe.  Ah…the universal language, music.  Halfway around the world, I find a common interest…drumming…with someone in a foreign land.  It was so special….

After an afternoon of chilling out at the flat, we had an evening walk down through the Grassmarket and into the cemetery where Greyfriar’s Bobby is buried, as is his master. 

Checking the Web for airport info and flights tomorrow, I noticed that many airports were screening people for the H1N1 virus…  I know what I have been suffering with is not that and hope I can slide through checkpoints without being quarantined!

The day after returning from Glencoe, Saturday, was a full one.  Ian and Rose had spent the night with us in our flat at The Knight Residence.  We certainly enjoyed having a larger flat this time with a second bedroom which served nicely for overnight guests.  It was good to have extended time with family. 

Dave was up first, departing early for Dunfermline and a ride with his former cycling club.  Cheers to Ian Condie for arranging a bike and all else for Dave!  Quite the gentleman, Ian.  So thanks!  I was up shortly after Dave left, with Ian and Rose following soon after.  After a simple breakfast in the flat, Ian headed back home to Dunfermline and Rose and I embarked on our “girlie day.”  Our first stop was the hair salon, where I had my hair braided and Rose had her lovely Irish curls straightened for our evening at the Pitbauchlie House Hotel Pub.  We prowled some shops as girls do together and headed to Shakespeare’s for lunch.  Whoa!  It was a futbol weekend (um…seems like every weekend in Scotland is a futbol (think soccer in America) weekend…), so the place was teeming…mostly with guys.  We found a cozy table for two tucked away by a corner and had a nice, if not boisterous, lunch.  The afternoon saw us headed to a spa for massages and manicures.  Of course, it was raining (I hear it can be very nice in Scotland in May), so we opted for a taxi from TKR to the train station.  The ride from Edinburgh to Dunfermline was my one train trip this time…I do so love riding the trains in Scotland.  So relaxing…such a nice way to see the countryside…and I love the female voice on the train speakers…”This train is for Rosyth.”  “Mind the gap.”  Next time I am going to get a t-shirt emblazoned with “Mind the gap.”  Gotta love it!

I digress.  Once in Dunfermline, we took a taxi to the Pitbauchlie House Hotel, where friends of Dave’s were meeting us later in the pub and where Dave and I were spending the night.  While Rose and I were out “getting gorgeous” for the evening, Dave had done his ride with the DCC, checked into the Pitbauchlie for a shower and change of clothes, and then was off with Ian to a futbol match.  There’s futbol again…go figure.  Shortly after Rose and I arrived at the “Pit,” Dave returned, Ian showed up, and the evening was kicked off.  Paul had a previous engagement, so he was not there with us, but I so enjoyed Ian and Rose’s company and watching Dave have such a good time with his mates.  Whew!  What a night!  As we have done in the past, we closed down the pub.

After breakfast the next morning, Dave and I checked out of the Pitbauchlie and drove to Aberdour and the cemetery there were our wee dear Chloe Rose rests.  We took flowers to her gravesite and spent a while there with her.  It was an emotional time…so bittersweet, saying hello and good-bye in one visit to the wee baby girl we will never meet in this life.  Aberdour Cemetery is so very tranquil and beautiful.  Chloe rests on a hillside and I cannot think of a more peaceful and lovely place for her.  Well done, Rose and Ian, for selecting this spot. 

Saying farewell, Dave and I ventured into the village of Aberdour to spend some time before meeting up with the rest of the family later in the day.  We walked the grounds of Aberdour Castle and the streets of the village, stopping at one point to watch lawn bowling. 

Back to Dunfermline and Ian and Rose’s new home, we met our wee grandson Fionn in person for the first time!  I know I am probably prejudiced, but he sure is a cutie!  He was a bit shy with Dave aka “Grandpa” at first, but soon they were playing together and getting to know one another upstairs in Fionn’s room.  Back downstairs, Ian put on some music in hopes Fionn would “dance” for us.  I was honored with my “first dance” with the little lad, his small hands holding tight to mine.  He slowed down and became almost transfixed, much to the amusement of everyone.  Hmmmm...could he feel the Reiki I was sending?  One likes to think so.  At any rate, it was fun bonding a bit with this newest member of the Barnes clan.  I tell ya what, looking at the photos of myself with him, I ask, “Wow, who’s that old lady?”  HA!

With the rain teeming down, we headed to Anstruther on this Sunday for some fish and chips.  Yum!  Paul rode with us in our rental, following the young Barnes family ahead of us in Dave’s old car.  He had left the Citroen there for the lads when he came across to the States, and it has come in handy for this growing family of Ian, Rose and Fionn.

By the time we reached the harbor of Anstruther, the rain had disappeared and it was becoming a rather nice afternoon/evening.  Dave and Paul ducked into the chip shop to procure meals for us all.  The queue into the shop was not too bad when they entered; however, as time passed, the line of people continued to grow and grow…Ian, Rose and I pondered what had happened to them!  You saw folks going into the shop but never could really see anyone coming out.  We saw other folks strolling by with food but never actually saw anyone coming out of the shop with food….hmmmm…We joked that perhaps they were exiting the shop a mile up the road….no, wait!  There they are!  Finally!  Yum, fish and chips Scotland-style, eating right out of the paper bag sitting on the benches at the harbor in Anstruther. 

After all had eaten, we sat for a while watching Fionn and watching people, and watching Fionn take in the sights and sounds.  Paul and Ian strolled off, seemingly on a mission of some sort.  Soon it was revealed that they had gone for ice cream!  Dave and I ducked into the ice cream shop and got dishes and cones for ourselves, Rose and Fionn.  That led to more amusement…watching Fionn consume his dish of ice cream.

Truly a pleasant afternoon spent with family.  My family.  These days are odd…my family in the States seems to be dwindling, while my family in Scotland continues to grow.  Recently I sometimes feel as if I am “freefalling” without the close relatives I once had…but then I look at the photos taken during this trip and see that I do have family.  There is geographic distance between us, but there is no distance to the affection I have for them all and for that which I feel from them.  I am so very blessed.

The afternoon was fading, so we bade farewell to the “young folks” and headed back to Edinburgh in our wee rental, just Dave and I, just “the old folks.”  Once back in our cozy flat, we spent a relaxing evening enjoying our surroundings, enjoying being in Edinburgh, and enjoying each other.

Today we were headed into Austin on a mission.  Our first stop was to drop Dave’s Trek off at Bicycle Sport Shop for its first tune-up.  After some browsing there, we drove the short distance over to Mellow Johnny’s, Lance’s shop. 

This is a cool place.  Okay, guys, you said I could take photos, so boy did I!  A nice selection of LiveSTRONG items…go figure!  I did get a pair of LiveSTRONG bib shorts, a Mellow Johnny's t-shirt and some gel (thanks, Dave).  I have a few pairs of bibs which are probably about 10 years old and a pair of black ones a little more recent than that, but they all have the old-style pad in them.  This is my first pair with the new type of pad, so I’m hopeful this will be an improvement on comfort and keeping happy during the summer months.  Been kinda wanting a pair of the LiveSTRONG bibs for a while and hey, the price was pretty darn good.

Yes, lots of bikes, clothes, shoes, and so forth upstairs in the shop.  There is also the Juan Pelota Cafe, where Dave got a coffee and me a smoothie.  We sat outside on the porch with these. 

The highlight of Mellow Johnny’s for me personally?  Downstairs.  Three of Lance’s bikes from recent times on display.  Walking up to them.  Touching them.  Powerful moment for me as a cyclist, yes, but as a survivor…as a survivor having just lost my precious cousin Karen to cancer….as a survivor having lost other family and friends over the years to cancer.  Standing there with these bikes…I felt the old passion, the strength, the determination, the joy I have felt for cycling….which I have not felt in some time.  I’m gettin’ there. 

I’ve never met Lance and chances are I never will.  I know nothing of the man personally.  He may be the biggest pussycat in the world or the biggest jerk.  But I tell you what, folks.  What his cycling and his story have done for me not only during my cancer experience but in cycling and in life, well, I am forever grateful.  I know it’s that way for many others out there, but I still have this dream of one day getting five seconds with him to shake his hand, look him in the eyes and say, “Thank you.”

The times during treatment mowing the yard or on the bike trainer, feeling absolutely like hell but thinking “If Lance did what he did, I can do this.  This is nothing compared to that.”  Those darkest of the dark days in the months following treatment when my marriage was dissolving and my heart was breaking, somehow calling on that inner strength I had found in cycling to get me through the storms of those days.  When I was able to finally face getting back on the bike, making cycling my own again…riding alone around Brenham or with pals…making it my own again.

LivingStrong…rebuilding my life after cancer “going solo” for a while…venturing out on my own to participate in LAF activities…finding joy the everyday activities of life…shelving my timid self and getting on that plane for Washington DC in June 2005 to attend LiveSTRONG Day on Capitol Hill and meet my beloved Scotsman for the first time.  Finding “the” wedding dress at a vintage store in Scotland…the store is called “Armstrong’s.” 

Out on the bike, being one with the bike, slipping into a different cadence…a bit faster one…getting stronger on the bike, getting faster on the bike, focused on the bike…having male cycling pals comment things had changed.  Hangin’ with the guys got a whole lot easier.

So many other moments….so many ways cycling and Lance’s inspiration have been, and continue to be, part of my life on the road and off the road.

Tears of sorrow for recent and past losses, tears of joy, tears of strength…were in my eyes as I stood there with Lance’s bikes this morning…and touched a handlebar….”Thanks, Lance, man, for everything.”  Tailwinds to you always.

Dave and I had lunch at Romeo’s on Barton Springs, sitting outdoors on the patio.  Afterwards it was back to Bicycle Sport Shop to pick up his bike and then head north back home to Cedar Park.

It’s been a good day.

Today was a better day than yesterday.  Hopefully tomorrow will be better than today.  Although I have thought about making this entry, tonight is the first time I have been able to sit and perhaps let it come.

Karen was my cousin by blood; we were sisters by heart.  Indeed, she often referred to me as her “baby sister.”   She was so full of life, always managing to stay upbeat during difficult times.  She always had a hug for folks.  Dave remembers the first time he met her; the first thing she said to him was “Sorry, I have a broken hugger.”  She had injured herself and could not give a good hug. 

What can I tell you about Karen and I?  Although seven years older than me, she always had time for me when we were kids.  She put me on a see-saw for the first time.  I got to go barefoot for the first time because she was.   We had a connection…inexplicable, deep, straight, true and everlasting.  We shared a love of animals.  We shared music competition during school years – she in choir, me in orchestra.  We shared a silly sense of humor.  We shared love. We had such escapades as kids which carried over into adulthood.  We were both kids at heart…kids who knew what hard blows life can deal one and what joys were to be found in simple things.

During more recent years, starting when we were both single about seven years ago, we would say that when we would get together we were just going to "be."  Our lives were hectic enough, so we were just going to enjoy "be-ing" together, enjoying the moment, chilling out, enjoying each other.

Karen was diagnosed with Stage IV stomach cancer in December 2008.  She underwent three chemo sessions and then testing to see if the chemo had any effect on the tumor.  On the 8th anniversary of my surgery for breast cancer, she called me to tell me the results.  The chemo was not working.  The tumor was growing.  Her oncologist recommended hospice.

She went camping that weekend, determined to LiveStrong her remaining days.

Karen left this Earth on May 26, 2009, six months from diagnosis to passing.  She was 57 years old.

With the start of her chemo treatment, I began calling her every day with the exception of one day.  That particular day I thought, “Well, perhaps she’s getting tired of me calling her every single day.  I’ll give her a break today.”  You know what?  I felt out of sorts with the Universe that entire day…just not right.  When I called her the next day, the first thing she said was, “You didn’t call me yesterday!  Are you okay?  Are you mad at me?”  I phoned her every single day after that, even from Scotland when Dave and I were there for two weeks in May.  Towards the end, the calls were brief…just a minute or two…just “I love you” exchanged.  Some days that last week she did not feel like talking to anyone.  My love was relayed to her by dear Janna, in whose care Karen was at Janna and Terry’s home in East Texas.

God bless Janna and Terry for their selflessness and tender care of my cousin, my sister. 

I miss calling Karen or her calling me and hearing her say, “Whatcha into cuz?” 

Yesterday afternoon I glanced at my watch, seeing that it was 4:29.  “Gosh,” I thought, “I’d better call Karen before it gets too late!”  A split second later, I realized there was no phone call to make. 

Today was a better day than yesterday.

A part of me is missing.  This is more wrenching than when my mother passed.  Mom was in her 80s.  She had a long life and chose to enter hospice care.  One expects to lose one’s parents…mine are now both gone.   One, no matter how prepared one is, does not expect to lose a sister…a soulmate…a playmate…the one person to whom I could talk to about anything and who would not judge or be opinionated, as she could with me with the same acceptance.

Over the years and even towards the end, we laughed together until we cried and cried together until there was nothing left to do but laugh.

I am so very grateful that she was able to be honest with me about her feelings and physical status during her departing.  As always, we were very straight up with one another.  When she did not feel she could talk to anyone else about things….she would talk to me.  Some things were difficult to hear, but I was grateful she chose my shoulder.

I miss her voice, although I can hear it distinctly still.  I hope that does not fade. 

My tears are not so much tears of sorrow but tears that come with feeling love and gratitude to and from someone.  

People often want “things” of someone who has passed.  She wanted me to have one thing and I will accept that.  I have the chemo cap I sent to her when she started treatment.  She wore it all the time and, even when not wearing it, she told me it was right beside her….her security blanket.   I have asked for a special jacket she loved and wore.  I will love and wear it...I remember when she had it embroided with a tree frog..."Tree Frog" was her biker name.  She loved her motorcycles and her biker friends, and got such pleasure from riding and her involvement in the Christian Motorcycle Association and East Texas Motorcycle Enthusiasts.

I was blessed by her love and her presence in my life.  Much of who I am is because of Karen’s presence and love.  She surely helped shape me into the woman I am today.

She told me I should get used to the idea of her not being here, as she was going to die soon.  I am trying, Cuz, but it is so very difficult.

Today was a better day than yesterday.

I told her I would still talk to her even when she had departed this Earth.  I do, and I know she’s listening.  I know she would not want me to be sad and, truly, I am grateful she did not linger and suffer any longer.  I’m really okay with it all, my spirituality being strong.

Karen literally died with a smile on her face.  I find that comforting….knowing that she was peaceful as she left.  It’s also comforting to know that one really can leave with peace and joy…it really does happen. 

Like she did so often in our lives, Karen is now blazing the path for me yet once again.  I am comforted to know she will be waiting for me when my time comes and I look forward to seeing her again in a brighter place.

I miss her beyond description.  A piece of me is gone, yet still here, for I carry her love with me and feel her presence often.

Today was a better day than yesterday.

Tuesday morning in Edinburgh saw us back in Two Thin Laddies for another incredible breakfast.  What is one of the multitude of wonderful things about holidays?  No freakin’ alarm clock!  Yay yay yay yay! 

There may be quite a bit of mention of food in these tales…the food is a bit different in Scotland…but we really didn’t eat that much (basically two meals a day) and I maintained my weight while Dave gained a few pounds (the beer/ales?).  Vacations/holidays have a tendency to add pounds, but this time I stayed steady on the scale.

Sitting near us in the cafe that morning was a younger-than-me woman knitting and sipping a hot drink.  After Dave left to go take care of some business, the woman and I struck up a conversation, being sister knitters.  Yes, traveling abroad is about taking in the scenery and the sights but, for me, the experience of talking with the people is not to be overlooked.  In visiting with Scottish women, one finds that we may have different accents, different fashions, and so forth; however, we are sister women and very much alike in what really matters in life.  I truly enjoyed my impromptu time with this woman in the cafe, both of us sipping from our cups.

At about 11 AM we set off for The Highlands and Glencoe, Dave negotiating our wee Vauxhall through all the roadworks and detours in Edinburgh.  One thing we noted over and over was all the construction/roadworks in Edinburgh.  Indeed, the same scaffolding that was in place 2 years ago about a block from the flat was still there…the construction project seemingly unchanged in 18 months’ time.

In getting out of Edinburgh, we ended up stopping at a convenience store/gas station picked at random.  Interestingly, I recognized it from previous times stopped there.  Over and over I was amused and comforted by recognizing different places in Scotland.  It amazes me that a country halfway around the globe now is so familiar to me….a place I call my other country, my other home….Riding in the car, walking through Edinburgh alone….I no longer consider myself a tourist but perhaps an adopted daughter of this land that on each visit graciously welcomes me into her bosom for comfort, spiritual experiences, the joys of family, and a deepening of the love I have for my Scotsman who shares his life with me in Texas.

Pointing our little Vauxhall north, we traced the route we have traveled twice before, stopping in Collander for a break and to watch the ducks and swans on the water, and stopping for lunch/tea at the Bridge of Orchy Hotel on the fringe of Glencoe.  After leaving Edinburgh, the weather deteriorated to the point that by the time we reached the Bridge of Orchy it was pouring and very chilly.  The hotel pub was filled with walkers trekking the West Highland Way.  Needless to say, Dave and I were the driest people in the pub.  “Um, gee, hope that guy doesn’t drip onto my sandwich….” 

One of the reasons we chose the month of May for our trip was Dave said the weather in Scotland can be very nice in May.

Entering Glencoe, “The Valley of Weeping,” I was once again struck by the beauty, majesty, strength, and peace of the place.  It is indeed the home of my soul.

Ever since learning about Scotland, I have wanted to stay at The Clachaig Inn and this trip saw us booked at the Inn for three nights.  You can check out their Web site here.  I had reserved a room shown on their site because of the view.  Turns out it was very cozy in a quiet corner of the inn with large windows giving us a view from our beds that was…incredibly breathtaking.  That was a good thing, because the weather caused us to spend quite a bit of time enjoying leisure time and the view from our respective twin beds.

I had also chosen the Clachaig because of its two pubs and full-service menu until 9 PM.  Figuring we would be out roaming around during the days, it might be handy to be able to get something to eat after returning to the Inn in the evenings.  We had our first meal in Glencoe at the Inn that late afternoon and, fortunately for us, the food was outstanding.  We arrived on Tuesday, departed on Friday for Edinburgh, and took all our meals at the Inn. 

After nightfall that first evening, the rain abated for a while and we had a nice walk down the lane back to the main highway.  Walking the banks of the River Coe, we realized what we heard from our room (with the window open) was this river making its way down to Loch Leven.  With the return of the downpour, we passed time in the warm pub until its closing time.  Dave had a sampling of the various cask ales and got a wee silly.  He certainly deserved all the silly evenings in Scotland!

Awakening to daylight at 5:41 AM the next morning, we had a pre-breakfast walk down one of the trails near the Inn in brilliant sunshine and mild temperatures.  The breakfast provided by the Inn was quite good.  I had the Boar Breakfast – egg any way you want, bacon, wild boar sausage, tomatoes, a potato scone, toast and tea.  Dave went for The Whole Hog Breakfast, which was all of the above but with the addition of haggis (yummy but rich…and you really don’t want me to tell you what parts of the sheep make up this dish), and black pudding.  He had mushrooms, too, which I had opted out of that early in the morning.

By the time we headed to the car at 10:30 AM to jaunt over to nearby Oban…it….was….raining.  Seemed like every time in The Highlands we even talked about getting in the car and going somewhere, the rains either started or increased in ferocity.  Ah well, we ventured forth and drove the twisty-turny road to Oban.  I’m sure this harbor town is a pleasure to walk about…when the weather obliges.  On that day, however, it was miserable…pouring rain and chilly.  I did purchase a very useful pair of knitted fingerless gloves.  Used ‘em that day and every day thereafter on the entire trip.  Dave got a nice warm pullover sweater.  Seeing as the forecast was for gale-force winds, several inches of rain and blizzard conditions on the mountains, we cut short our Oban visit.  The forecast was not any better (perhaps even a bit worse) for the following day, so we stopped on the way back to the Inn to stock up on snacks.

Safely back at the Inn, the rain and winds had increased in strength.  Just when you thought it could not possibly rain any harder…it did. 

Have you heard the weather in Scotland during May can be quite nice?  Yeah…um…right.

Our afternoon meal was Cajun Salmon, chips (the equivalent of French fries in the States but much better and more real), coleslaw and a green salad.  Divine.

Back in our room, boots were shucked off and we took in the view from our little beds…both of us dozing off and on.  I took some time to update my journal.

Our plans for The Highlands were to indulge in much walking and taking the ferry over to the Isle of Mull on one of the days.  Needless to say, these plans were waylaid by the weather.  Truly The Valley of Weeping, Glencoe apparently knew just what I needed more than I did….imposed rest….downtime.  Time to play with my camera, time for introspection and spiritual renewal, quiet time, and the display by Mother Nature of such splendor as extreme stormy weather brings.

This was a side of Glencoe I had never seen before.  The drowsy streams coming down the mountains now transformed into rushing torrents and cascading waterfalls.  The accumulation of additional snow on the mountain peaks greeting us with each new day.  The time spent in the pub (a favorite of climbers and walkers) soaking up the atmosphere…taking pleasure in seeing Dave totally enjoying himself in such a typically Scottish environment.  Being gifted with a complete rainbow this day stretching from the base of one mountain to the base of another during a brief interlude in the downpour.

Breakfast the second day was just as yummy as everything else we consumed at the Inn.  This day saw us headed to Fort William, a town with many memories for Dave.  I got a sweater at Nevis Sport, a favorite outdoor shop of Dave’s.  We wandered the High Street…stopping for me to document in photos an outdoor meat market.  Walking those cobbles for the third time, I had the same sense of familiarity.  Comforting, that.  The Loch waters were quite choppy and we agreed foregoing the ferry to Mull was a good move.

Back at the car, we intended to head out to Ben Nevis, a very high mountain in Scotland.  Well, we did that after waiting for it to stop sleeting.  Sheesh.  (I hear Scotland can be quite lovely in May.)  This is a wee road that leaves from Fort William and twists and turns for a while out to Ben Nevis.  Love that road…very snake-like and fun to ride in the car…I’d love to drive it sometime!  Okay, so we stopped at the Lower Falls to admire them and take photos.  Yep, it was raining.  On our way back to Fort William, we stopped at a couple of places for more photo ops.

Did you know Dave has walked up to the peak of Ben Nevis twice?  Once waaaay back when, an event that was documented by a newspaper.  Cool, huh?

Back at the Inn in the afternoon, I was ready for dinner, so I tried the Chili Beef Burrito.  Yummy!  Dave had lentil soup at that point and then a proper dinner later in the evening.   At that late hour, I nursed a cup of tea and watched him eat.  <grin>

One new dish to me this trip was Clootie Dumpling.  We kidded that the name sounds like a 20s or 30s actress….you surely remember Clootie Dumpling?  What is it?  Think dark fruitcake in a large bowl surrounded by warm yellow custard.  Lordy it was heavenly.  I had a few bites of the one Dave ordered.  Totally scrumptious and I enjoyed the few bites I had but could never finish an entire portion myself. 

Kilmahog – a wee village we passed through en route to Glencoe.  Gotta love the name.  Kilmahog.  No, don’t kill your hog.  Kil ma hog.  <giggle>

Sheep – Lots of sheep, of course, in the pastures.  This time of year there are loads of wee itty-bitty lambs.  Sooooo cute with their little black faces.  Momma walking slowly and wee little one trotting to keep up.  Here, instead of the highway sign with the picture of a deer to indicate possible deer on the road, you get one with a picture of a sheep!  My lovely sheepies….I have missed them.  It’s so good to see them again.

On Friday, May 8, we enjoyed our final breakfast at the Clachaig Inn and prepared to bid it a fond farewell.  I could have Room 8 for a month or two and write my story…my book.  I could spend months wandering the hills of Glencoe.  I never tire of watching the mountains, ever-changing yet constant for eons.  They give one the sense of being held safe in the arms of one’s parent.  They are ancient, wise, and majestic. 

It was the coldest morning yet as we set off to Edinburgh, with the temperature being in the mid 30s.  Traveling south, the weather improved, becoming brighter and warmer.  We stopped in Dunfermline to take care of some business.  There have been many changes there and many new houses as folks move to Dunfermline to commute into Edinburgh for work.

By now I was in the midst of an allergy attack…sniffly nose and some coughing.  Lovely.  Was it the airplane environment?  Essentially being cold and wet for four days in The Highlands?  The heating system (radiators with very dry heat) used throughout Scotland?  Was it the oilseed rape – a yellow-flowering crop cultivated for use in things like canola oil and biodiesel fuel and a major cause of hayfever?  The feather pillows?  Dunno.  Much better at this writing, but still some congestion and an occasional cough that makes one think I have freakin’ TB.  Nope, not H1N1, not a cold…no fever, no aches….just allergies.  (Never had bother with ‘em until we moved to Cedar Park.)

Saturday’s schedule was well-planned and busy.  Dave was to cycle with his old club in the morning, check into the Pitbauchlie Hotel in Dunfermline to shower and change, then hook up with Ian to attend a futbol match.  Rose and I had a “girls’ day” planned with a trip to the hair salon, lunch, massages, and manicures and then the train over to Dunfermline to meet up with Dave and Ian for the evening…friends of Dave’s were gathering in the Pitbauchlie pub that evening.  Whew!

Friday evening Ian and Rose came to the flat in Edinburgh and spent the night with us.  This would give Rose and I an early start to our “girls’ day.”

So ends Part 2.  Bored?  Asleep?  Yawning?  Don’t blame you if you are.  If you aren’t yet, then stay tuned for Part 3 photos and narrative.

Our trip to Scotland this year started on Saturday, May 2.  With our flight departing in the late afternoon, one might think I would have slept late.  Nope, I was up fairly early to go have my hair braided!  After that, it was a good breakfast and not much time until we left for the airport.  After taking the shuttle from long-term parking to the terminal, we entered the interesting, bizarre and at times frustrating world of airline travel. 

Of course, being required to arrive at the airport a few hours prior to departure for international flights, one is left with time to kill.  We walked around, Dave got a beer, I took some photos, we walked around…you get the idea.  At least we left from Austin, so it was fairly hassle-free. 

The first leg of our journey was Austin to Washington, DC, specifically Dulles Airport aka The Airport from Hell.  At least our layover here was only about 2 hours, but it was still nuts.  Terminal C is apparently for arriving/departing international flights and it was crowded and hot.  So many people.  As you may know, I just love close quarters jammed with people.  Ahem.  When flying transatlantic, I like to be able to get outside during long layovers.  Yeah, okay, to have a smoke, but more so just to be outside.  One spends so much time inside airports, airplanes, shuttles…well, it’s nice to be able to get outside for even ten minutes in between flights.

While do-able at many airports, one is virtually trapped in Dulles.  Of course, the main objective is to get to the correct terminal for the next flight.  At Dulles that meant taking a people-mover to Terminal C.  Once inside that terminal, you are…well…trapped!  Wall-to-wall people, mostly hustling to and fro.  Pretty darn warm, too.  Even if one wanted something to eat or drink, good luck standing in the long lines at the various cafes.  Hated it.

It was a relief to board the 777 for the Atlantic crossing.  We had seats in a two-seater row, me by the window.  Talk about sardines…no room to even cross your legs.  The redeeming factor was a 157 mph tailwind that blew us across The Pond in just over 6 hours, the fastest crossing we’ve ever had. 

Once in London Heathrow, we had a bit over 3 hours until the hop from London to Edinburgh.  Thank you, Heathrow, for a sensible airport which allows one to get outdoors.  F R E E D O M !  Not a bad passage of time.  It was sunny out <gasp>, although a wee bit cool for my lizard-like Texan blood.  When we had about 45 minutes until boarding, we strolled up to the security checkpoint.  Well, guess what?  The boarding pass for this leg of the journey would not scan.  Terrific.  We had to go to the airline ticket desk to get new boarding passes.  Naturally, one had to stand in line, wondering if the customers at the counter were ever going to make up their minds what to do regarding seat choices.  Our turn, yippiee, new passes in hand, back to the security line…waiting, waiting….then SPRINT for the plane!

I kept a journal during our trip, starting it on the transatlantic flight.  After reading a bit of “The Tao of Writing,” that brief start consisted of, “Writing is natural.  Natural, yes, but a wee tough on a plane.”

This third leg of the journey over was a short one, less than an hour.  Touching down on Scotland soil, my heart was full, as were my eyes.

Scotland.  That magical, beautiful, mystical, healing land.

We had 3 checked bags – one for Dave, one for me, and one with birthday/Christmas presents for family.  Upon retrieving our luggage in Edinburgh, my suitcase was mangled.  Wonderful.  Headed straight to the airline baggage services office, where the clerk was all atwitter with the fact that JK Rowling (the Harry Potter author) had just been in.  Kewl.  So the chair in which I was perched was still warm from this author’s presence.  Hmmm…perhaps some of her creativity rubbed off??  Nice thought, eh?  Well, to the airline’s credit, I was given a brand new, still-in-the box hard-sided American Tourister suitcase.  Sweet.  My faithful piece went into the dumpster at The Knight Residence (TKR) later that day.  It served me well, traveling to Scotland 3 times (although mortally wounded on the third trip) and back and forth from Texas to Minnesota a few times.

After picking up our cute little rental car, a Vauxhall Corsa like we had last trip, we found our way to TKR with minimal difficulty.  Dave did so well navigating through Edinburgh straight off the plane and jet-lagged!  Initially assigned the same flat we had 2 years ago at TKR, we discovered on arriving in it that it had some maintenance/housekeeping issues.  We felt actually bad bringing this to the attention of the staff, as Kevin was so apologetic and upset that it was in such condition.  We were told that if we could stand it for one night, they would move us to a different flat in the morning.  Wow!  All we were really looking for was some cleaning stuff….

That first afternoon, Dave and I had burgers at Maggie Dickson’s in The Grassmarket.  Maggie’s is a pub right down the street from the TKR.  You can get a good burger outside the States.  It’s great “I just crossed the Atlantic without eating airplane food and, man, am I hungry!” recovery food!  Had my first few sips of Guinness.  Yep, I’m back in Scotland!  We spent the afternoon walking around Edinburgh…the Royal Mile, up to the entrance of the Castle, etc.  That evening, Paul joined us to sit outside Biddy Mulligan’s.  Biddy’s is next door to Maggie’s and a terrific vantage point for watching the goings-on in The Grassmarket.

The Grassmarket is a grouping of buildings with a street and pedestrian walking area.  Now mostly businesses, shops, and pubs, history has it that The Grassmarket gets its name from the fact that waaaay long time ago it was a trading place for hay, grains, etc.  Hence, The Grassmarket.  Public executions were also held there.  Lovely.

After our first totally, amazingly yummy breakfast at Two Thin Laddies down the lane from TKR, Charlie helped us move to the new flat.  Talk about NICE!  It was of the same standard as our flat had been 2 years ago, but was much larger – consisting of a full kitchen, two bedrooms, two baths, and a nice-sized living room.   During our stay, Ian and Rose spent a night with us, as did Paul.  It gave us much more room to settle in and be comfortable.  We will definitely book that type of flat for next time.  Thanks again, to the “knights” of The Knight Residence – Colin, Kevin, Charlie, and Christopher – for making our stay perfect.  TKR has become our home in Scotland and I look forward to booking our next trip there.

You probably don’t know this, but TKR was rated on Expedia in 2008 as the #1 accommodation in Europe and #10 in the world.  And it shows…

Two Thin Laddies…we talk about the bacon/egg rolls in between trips and how we look forward to the first breakfast in Scotland…that first bacon/egg roll and enormous cup of tea. 

Paul came over in the afternoon and Dave purchased a wee little bicycle for Fionn.  How appropriate that the grandson receive his first bike from his champion racer grandpa!  Had a nice dinner with Paul at Shakespeare’s, a pub not far from our flat.  Paul spent some time at our flat that evening and we enjoyed that, as we do when spending time with him.

Right now daylight creeps in at about 5:30 AM.  It’s virtually impossible for me to sleep much longer than that here.  “It’s daylight!  Why waste time sleeping?!” 

Accomplished one thing I missed last trip.  Elevators in the UK are referred to as “lifts.”  Got it?  Okay.  So the little plaque in the building lift says the lift is maintained by Schindler Lifts.  Schindler Lifts.  Schindler’s List.  Got it?  Okay!  Took a photo of that plaque.  Silly sense of humor I have, I find giggles in the signage in Scotland.  An abandoned car in a field tagged, “Police Aware.”  Fine, don’t give a damn, but we are aware of it.  “Don’t do drugs and drive” on the highway…cool, pull over, get stoned, fine.  Just don’t drive and get stoned.  Far out!

I am a silly puppy.  If you’re up for more silliness, then check out the next segment of my ramblings, Scotland 2009 Part 2.