…bygones

First, an announcement: Kevin’s coming over for Christmas!! He’ll be here tomorrow night! So let’s all keep our fingers crossed that the weather isn’t so bad that his flight can’t land. (we’re expecting a snowstorm tomorrow.).

And now, on with our regularly scheduled programming….

Now that I know Kev’s coming over, I’ve got a more positive outlook on things; and have been listing in my head the good things about being here. Here are some, in no particular order:

• I get to drive.
• I get to see my best friend every weekend and spend time with the girls.
• My niece recognises me.
• Shopping with Mom like we used to do.
• Lots of baking.
• I get to see the newest episodes of everything on TV, like Greys Anatomy, and the Mentalist (and have recently discovered an affinity for a show called ‘Castle’, which is pretty cool.)
• Knit, knit, knit! Am a knitting maniac lately.
• Time with my parents.
• Every time I go out to buy cigarettes, I get ID’ed. (The smoking age is 18). That feels pretty good.
• Taco Bell, Wendy’s and Amigos
• Hersheys
• Netties (my favourite restaurant)
• Crab Rangoon at the chinese restaurants
• Old Navy
• DVR cable…pause live TV!! It’s amazing!

and a few others.

This being listed and recognised, I would still like to go home now. I’ve appreciated the things I’ve missed and now what I miss is Glasgow, my friends, my flat, and my cats.

So, please, everyone, keep me in your thoughts, positive thoughts about me going home. And if anyone knows anyone in the home office, please ask them to get their finger out and speed things along a bit.

Thank you everyone, I hope you all have a happy yule!

xx

I have decided today that I want to write. This happens rarely, and mostly, I don’t follow through because have difficulty finding my ‘voice’.

All writers have a ’style’ that they employ, their single voice. Someone intelligent once said that a writer will find their voice after writing over 1,000 words on a single project. I don’t think I qualify for that statistic, as I usually get frustrated with my inconsistancy well before 1,000 words have been written, and give up. Or I take a break from it, and when I get back to it, I find I can’t recreate the voice I used for that particular work, and then give up.

Or start something new.

All the questions, everytime I sit down to write: Am I snarky today? Funny? Poetic?
And then the ensuing battle in my mind; that existential undiscovery; who am I as a writer? The truth is, that I don’t know. But one conclusion becomes apparent: if I can’t be consistant, then will I be able to develop any characters with consistancy?

So, here it is: my need to plow through a novel floating around in my head, and bang out 1,000 words or more, and, I dunno, finish the darned thing, so that I can find my voice; rehearse consistancy, and then learn how to put myself into the same mental state each time I write, so that my work doesn’t end up being funny and lighthearted on one page, and then jaded and dark on the next.

By the way, I made that instant cake yesterday, and oh, me, oh, my is it sweet! Also, it looks terrible, backing up my own opinion about instant cake recipes being the root of baking evil. Mom, Dad, and myself, had a hard time eating our tiny pieces of it last night, it was so sweet, and the coffee we made to go with it did nothing to cut the sweetness.

And this is why, Luminati, I will be bringing with me on my visit, a partially eaten, cake-monster. Normally, I would never bring someone a partially eaten cake, however, we will never finish it; and therefore, I offer to you the cake to either eat, or destroy, as you see fit. In a way, it’s an honour to decide the fate of one of my baking expeditions, as I trust and value your opinion. You may either be on board with the notion of Instant-Cake-Evil, or you may value it in a new and separate genre.

I digress. Back to writing; and no, I will not write about an American Citizen who is separated from her husband one month after marriage because she’s waiting for a visa from the British Consulate. As I am living it, I can tell you it’s very boring. (Which you may, if you’ve been paying attention, have learned this already.)

I felt like having cake the other day.

So, I went to the shop, bought a Devil’s Food Cake mix and some icing. But if any of you know me at all, you’ll know that I like making things from scratch. It just feels like cheating to buy an instant mix. For the most part, I abhorr instant mixes of anything. I like making everything myself, and don’t believe in the ‘just add [insert ingredient here]‘ taglines of any instant food mix.

Alas, I was saved from my hypocrasy by learning that I needed 3 eggs for this mix. (3 eggs!? Even ‘from scratch’ cake recipes don’t call for that many eggs!)

Yesterday, my mom asked me to make some Peanut Blossom Cookies, which are a Christmas favourite here at the America household. These are peanut butter cookies, with a Hershey Kiss planted right on top. Aside from an insane mixer which doesn’t shut off, the cookies turned out perfectly.

Then today, my mom asked me to make some Vegetarian Chilli, for this ‘Take it to the Streets’ rally for her Motorcycle Association. I was pleased to be asked. 5 28oz tins of tomatoes, 5 12 oz tins of beans (including black beans) and immeasurable amounts of chilli powder later, the pot is full of delicious chilli.

That being done, and simmering away, I decided, after my success with the Peanut Blossoms yesterday, to make some more cookies. (And win a battle against the mixer that doesn’t shut off.) My dad was complaining (in jest) yesterday that I made the wrong cookies. Even though he likes the Peanut Blossoms, he loves chocolate chip and walnut cookies. Mom’s got a great recipe for them, so, after checking that I had all the ingredients I needed, I quickly set to work.

I must say, they’ve turned out perfectly. And yes, in case you’re wondering, I did win the battle against the mixer-that-won’t-turn-off.

I think now, that the cure to my boredom is making treats. The irony is, I don’t like sweets.

When you wake up at 5am crying. It’s not going to be a good day.

I’ve been hopeful all week..spritely, even. But today I just feel the sheer an utter unfairness of this situation. Monday was our 1 month anniversary. Great way to spend my first month of married life.

Kev and I went to Vegas. It was excellent; full of lights and a buzz and an ‘anything could happen’ atomosphere’. We went on the New York New York Rollercoaster twice. I was hoarse the next day from screaming the entire time.

And when we got ‘home’ we knew our time together would be short and we tried to enjoy every possible second of it together.

But now it just seems like a distant memory. The laughter, the cuddling, it’s all in memory. I tried to remember this morning what it’s like to wake up next to him and I found myself abhorring the empty space next to me.

I tried to remember that place where his neck and shoulder meet, a perfectly molded spot where I can nuzzle my head, the feel of his heartbeat, his smell, his warmth. I was cold when I woke up, pulling my extra quilt over me, I thought about how I would not be cold if he were here.

But I don’t want him here. I want to be there.

My hope, my positivity has gone on vacation today. I checked my email and I have nothing from the British Consulate waiting for me. I have no email reply from the Home Secretary, who I’d written to earlier this week. Are my emails even being received? How can I convey my sense of desperation to them? How can I educate them on what it means that I’ve spent this time alone, without my new husband?

I keep thinking about my doorbell (when ye gonna ring it? When ye gonna ring it?). Please Mr UPS man, please bring me some news.

I think about packing up my things, giddy with happiness that I’ll be going home.

I think about walking through those sliding doors at Glasgow international airport, and Kev’s smiling face waiting for me on the other side.

And then I get the anger. What am I doing here? What purpose does it serve making me wait in one country when my husband is in another? What sort of torture is this? I’m not a criminal. I’m not a terrorist or a drug dealer or a con artist. I just want to get home to my baby.

I feel like staying in bed all day. I feel like staying in bed until I get my visa and my passport and my purpose.

What does it matter if I get dressed today? What will it matter if I don’t do anything at all today, and just mope around the house? What good will it do? What harm could it do?

I think I will go back to bed. Screw this. If they’re not going to email me today, then it doesn’t matter if I check my email every five minutes.