The last couple of weeks haven't exactly been easy. To say things were "shaken up" would be an understatement.
Last Monday, my boss resigned without any warning to anyone in the company. I work for a small company, with only 6 people in the U.S. office (well, 5 now). When a director leaves in a major company, I'm sure there's a slight tremor, but the floor isn't cracking beneath you and buildings aren't rocking back and forth. For a small company like ours, this is 7.3 on the richter scale.
A week and a half on and we're still in the "search and rescue" phase, and we're finding things are a lot more fragile than we initially thought.
For now we're having to stick together and all do jobs we weren't meant to do. Hopefully this transition won't have too many growing pains.
The next month or so should be interesting.
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
Homesick
This week I've been homesick. Homesick can be missing the location you're from, the smell of your mum's cooking, your favourite tv program growing up, anything that triggers that wonderful nostalgic feeling can make you feel homesick. My homesickness snuck up on me over the last few days, highlighted by a few triggers. But oddly enough, this is the first time I've been homesick without wanting to rush and buy a plane ticket (they're too expensive these days anyway).
Monday was a particularly difficult day at work. On my way home, rather than crave a gin and tonic or a glass of wine to unwind, all I wanted was a big cup of tea and rich tea biscuits (trigger #1). While enjoying my 4th rich tea biscuit I decided I didn't want the healthy salad I was planning on making for dinner, I wanted something rich and comforting like shepherd's pie or sausage and mash...things I hadn't made or eaten in either months or years. So I went with my gut instinct (literally) and made the food of my childhood, a bubbling dish of cheese-covered heaven: shepherd's pie. This was trigger #2.
Since then I've been craving (mainly food) that reminds me of home and of my childhood. My parents may have moved us to Texas but they raised us to be English. I grew up with Salad Cream (trigger #3) or Branston Pickle on my sandwiches and not Miracle Whip. I ate pies filled with meat and potatoes and not syrup-covered fruit. I watched "Only Fools and Horses" or "Blackadder" with my dad as a kid, and not "Roseanne" or "The Cosby Show."
The good thing about being homesick for English things in Texas in 2012 versus 1996, is that key food items you can get here now, and what you can't get you can order online or smuggle back in your carry-on whenever you get back to the UK. Sure a jar of Marmite from a speciality shop here will have a 600% mark-up here, but it tastes nearly 600% better because you can't afford to eat it every day. So I'm going to let myself indulge in being a little more British this week than I normally can. And I will enjoy every second, sip, and bite of it.
Monday was a particularly difficult day at work. On my way home, rather than crave a gin and tonic or a glass of wine to unwind, all I wanted was a big cup of tea and rich tea biscuits (trigger #1). While enjoying my 4th rich tea biscuit I decided I didn't want the healthy salad I was planning on making for dinner, I wanted something rich and comforting like shepherd's pie or sausage and mash...things I hadn't made or eaten in either months or years. So I went with my gut instinct (literally) and made the food of my childhood, a bubbling dish of cheese-covered heaven: shepherd's pie. This was trigger #2.
Since then I've been craving (mainly food) that reminds me of home and of my childhood. My parents may have moved us to Texas but they raised us to be English. I grew up with Salad Cream (trigger #3) or Branston Pickle on my sandwiches and not Miracle Whip. I ate pies filled with meat and potatoes and not syrup-covered fruit. I watched "Only Fools and Horses" or "Blackadder" with my dad as a kid, and not "Roseanne" or "The Cosby Show."
The good thing about being homesick for English things in Texas in 2012 versus 1996, is that key food items you can get here now, and what you can't get you can order online or smuggle back in your carry-on whenever you get back to the UK. Sure a jar of Marmite from a speciality shop here will have a 600% mark-up here, but it tastes nearly 600% better because you can't afford to eat it every day. So I'm going to let myself indulge in being a little more British this week than I normally can. And I will enjoy every second, sip, and bite of it.
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
San Antonio
San Antonio is a city that's come into my life many times. I have memories as a small girl of seven on holiday with my family, to tasting my first martini on my 22nd birthday with Zak. Granted those are two very different memories, but they sum up the times there rather well. Zak actually grew up only an hour away from San Antonio, so his connection to the place is quite similar.
It was a couple of months ago when we started talking about how much we missed San Antone. We realised the last time we'd been there was in 2009 after graduating uni. San Antonio has two of the main tourist attractions in Texas: the Alamo and the Riverwalk. The Alamo is a symbol of Texas, a beautiful old Spanish missionary that became a fortress in the Texans fight against the Mexicans. The Riverwalk is a bustling ringed waterway that's lined with shops, restaurants, and bars and sits in the heart of San Antonio below street level.
After a couple hours of reminiscing, I decided we should just go back to San Antonio. So last Friday and Saturday, we were there celebrating Zak's birthday (I had to have a reason to part with the cash, so why not make it a celebration?). For the 26 hours we were there, the weather was perfect. It was a warm with an early-spring breeze, and not a cloud in the sky. We spent our time wandering around, visiting little art galleries, stopping for margaritas whenever we were thirsty, and of course we stopped to "remember the Alamo." Even though it was just a quick trip, it felt like a full holiday just to get away. Its amazing how quickly you can disconnect yourself from the daily stresses when you're in a great place with someone you love.
It was a couple of months ago when we started talking about how much we missed San Antone. We realised the last time we'd been there was in 2009 after graduating uni. San Antonio has two of the main tourist attractions in Texas: the Alamo and the Riverwalk. The Alamo is a symbol of Texas, a beautiful old Spanish missionary that became a fortress in the Texans fight against the Mexicans. The Riverwalk is a bustling ringed waterway that's lined with shops, restaurants, and bars and sits in the heart of San Antonio below street level.
After a couple hours of reminiscing, I decided we should just go back to San Antonio. So last Friday and Saturday, we were there celebrating Zak's birthday (I had to have a reason to part with the cash, so why not make it a celebration?). For the 26 hours we were there, the weather was perfect. It was a warm with an early-spring breeze, and not a cloud in the sky. We spent our time wandering around, visiting little art galleries, stopping for margaritas whenever we were thirsty, and of course we stopped to "remember the Alamo." Even though it was just a quick trip, it felt like a full holiday just to get away. Its amazing how quickly you can disconnect yourself from the daily stresses when you're in a great place with someone you love.
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| the Alamo at night with the famous Crockett Hotel - my favourite shot from the trip |
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| A small art shop in La Villata |
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| Love cactus above the door |
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| The Riverwalk |
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
Time flies!
It seems every year, every month, people are commenting on how quickly time is passing. "This year's really flying by," or "I can't believe it's already May - wasn't it just Christmas?", are phrases that never seem to be far away.
Well not to sound cliche, but this year really IS flying by. The last couple of weeks have been busy both at work and at home. I knew I was in for a busy week at work when on Monday of last week I didn't get home until 11.45 pm, which is much later than the standard 5.00 or 5.30. I knew I was in for a busy week at home when I looked at my calendar yesterday morning and saw that Zak and I have something planned every day for the next 7 days. And it looks as if things aren't really going to slow down from here.
Only just now am I about to enter the busiest part of the year so far. With work, next month is the last month of Q1 and I have quotas to meet. After that it's trade show season so I'll be travelling quite a bit with that. At home it's Zak's birthday coming up and then my sister's wedding in the first week of May. This means that between now and then not only will there be bridal showers and hen nights to attend, but as maid of honour (or I guess matron of honour, seeing as I'm married) much time will be spent planning those things. Factor into that all of life's daily routines and surprises, and I'm in for a busy few months.
Luckily, I like being busy. I'd rather have too much to do than too little. And I like the responsibilities I have both at home and at work. However, for all my excellent skills as a multi-tasker, this will be a bit challenging for me. At least there will be plenty of photo opportunities to play with the new camera, right?
I've set my light at the end of the tunnel (the calm after the storm) to be Memorial Day weekend, the last weekend in May. This should be interesting.
Well not to sound cliche, but this year really IS flying by. The last couple of weeks have been busy both at work and at home. I knew I was in for a busy week at work when on Monday of last week I didn't get home until 11.45 pm, which is much later than the standard 5.00 or 5.30. I knew I was in for a busy week at home when I looked at my calendar yesterday morning and saw that Zak and I have something planned every day for the next 7 days. And it looks as if things aren't really going to slow down from here.
Only just now am I about to enter the busiest part of the year so far. With work, next month is the last month of Q1 and I have quotas to meet. After that it's trade show season so I'll be travelling quite a bit with that. At home it's Zak's birthday coming up and then my sister's wedding in the first week of May. This means that between now and then not only will there be bridal showers and hen nights to attend, but as maid of honour (or I guess matron of honour, seeing as I'm married) much time will be spent planning those things. Factor into that all of life's daily routines and surprises, and I'm in for a busy few months.
Luckily, I like being busy. I'd rather have too much to do than too little. And I like the responsibilities I have both at home and at work. However, for all my excellent skills as a multi-tasker, this will be a bit challenging for me. At least there will be plenty of photo opportunities to play with the new camera, right?
I've set my light at the end of the tunnel (the calm after the storm) to be Memorial Day weekend, the last weekend in May. This should be interesting.
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
Little Bundle of Joy
In 27 hours I will be leaving work tomorrow to collect my newest "baby." A little Canon called the S100 is nearly mine, only just big enough to fit in the palm of my hand.
I'm picky with my cameras. I don't have unlimited resources to buy the biggest and best, and I don't buy often. In fact that last camera I bought was over two years ago and it was a cheap and cheerful - yet surprisingly powerful - point and shoot. Before that the last camera I got was Dennis, my Canon 20D DSLR. I've known for a long time that Dennis is slightly out dated in terms of MP and filters and a bit low on ISO speed. But he's mine. I couldn't possibly replace him.
So that's why I'm going for the S100. It will take the place of my point and shoot, but the difference is that it's not as cheap and a hell of a lot more cheerful. It will be my "D-not an SLR but takes a damn good picture like an SLR" camera that I can easily take with me anywhere.
The last time I felt so excited about a new arrival was the day before Zak and I picked up Pandora from the SPCA after her snip-snip op. Okay, that day was much bigger and more exciting, but I can't wait to get my hands on this camera, see everything it can do, and share the pictures with you.
I'm picky with my cameras. I don't have unlimited resources to buy the biggest and best, and I don't buy often. In fact that last camera I bought was over two years ago and it was a cheap and cheerful - yet surprisingly powerful - point and shoot. Before that the last camera I got was Dennis, my Canon 20D DSLR. I've known for a long time that Dennis is slightly out dated in terms of MP and filters and a bit low on ISO speed. But he's mine. I couldn't possibly replace him.
So that's why I'm going for the S100. It will take the place of my point and shoot, but the difference is that it's not as cheap and a hell of a lot more cheerful. It will be my "D-not an SLR but takes a damn good picture like an SLR" camera that I can easily take with me anywhere.
The last time I felt so excited about a new arrival was the day before Zak and I picked up Pandora from the SPCA after her snip-snip op. Okay, that day was much bigger and more exciting, but I can't wait to get my hands on this camera, see everything it can do, and share the pictures with you.
Monday, February 6, 2012
Tough Love
Criticism is a difficult thing for many people. It can be hard to receive, and depending on who's on the receiving end of the criticism, it can be tough to give.
Spending the better part of my 26 years in art classes, photography courses, and even a degree in advertising, critiques have been a major part of my life. Weekly critiques on paintings, photographs, and campaign ideas taught me to listen to other people's opinions, respect those opinions, and see what I could change or do differently next time. The critiques weren't always easy to sit through. One art teacher would very gently encourage me to be a bit bolder with my use of graphite pencils, one advertising professor used his Glaswegian flair by telling me an idea was "f*cking sh*te." Charming.
So I've developed an appreciation of the critique. Getting critiqued sits well with me. Giving the critique doesn't. Recently I've found myself at a particularly awkward crossroad. I have to give someone that I'm close to, a very harsh critique. One of my in-laws has driven Zak and myself to a state of hopelessness. Their presence is overbearing, their attitude rude, and their manners non-existent. Not every member of your family is going to be your favourite person, I know that. You can choose your friends, not your family. But after watching this person's behaviour become increasingly worse over the last few years, and a very stressful weekend with them, Zak and I have to say something.
It will be tasteful, we will let them know we're doing this out of love and not spite, but that doesn't make it any easier. This critique will be tough, for both parties. I just hope that in time it will produce a positive result.
Spending the better part of my 26 years in art classes, photography courses, and even a degree in advertising, critiques have been a major part of my life. Weekly critiques on paintings, photographs, and campaign ideas taught me to listen to other people's opinions, respect those opinions, and see what I could change or do differently next time. The critiques weren't always easy to sit through. One art teacher would very gently encourage me to be a bit bolder with my use of graphite pencils, one advertising professor used his Glaswegian flair by telling me an idea was "f*cking sh*te." Charming.
So I've developed an appreciation of the critique. Getting critiqued sits well with me. Giving the critique doesn't. Recently I've found myself at a particularly awkward crossroad. I have to give someone that I'm close to, a very harsh critique. One of my in-laws has driven Zak and myself to a state of hopelessness. Their presence is overbearing, their attitude rude, and their manners non-existent. Not every member of your family is going to be your favourite person, I know that. You can choose your friends, not your family. But after watching this person's behaviour become increasingly worse over the last few years, and a very stressful weekend with them, Zak and I have to say something.
It will be tasteful, we will let them know we're doing this out of love and not spite, but that doesn't make it any easier. This critique will be tough, for both parties. I just hope that in time it will produce a positive result.
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
What's In a Name?
Juliet to Romeo: What's in a name? That which we call a rose, by any other name would smell as sweet.*
Zak and I are a good team. He's a great husband and I know I'm a great wife. I always know how to make him laugh. I can tell when a bad day at work means he needs a hug or that he needs some down time when he gets home. I cook him (from scratch) three meals a day at least six days of the week. These are some of the things that make our relationship better. But there's one area of being a wife that I've totally failed at, ever since saying "I do" fifteen months ago.
I'm yet to change my name.
Juliet said to Romeo that a name was just a name, it wasn't important. Who cared that she was a Capulet and he was a Montague? It was JUST A NAME. Well, Jules, I beg to differ.
There are a number of reasons, maybe even excuses, why I haven't done this yet. First off, I love my maiden name. It's nothing against his surname, but I love mine. I've known it and had it for nearly 27 years now, and I'm extremely proud of my family. It keeps me connected to my roots. I'm very proud to be English, and I have married and resided in Texas with a Texan. Our kids (if any) will be more Texan than English. So my brain has made the drastic jump to "last name of a Texan = no longer English." I know that's silly (I never promised my reasons would be logical). The third reason even trumps the validity of the second reason. I am actually STILL English, by every sense of the law. I'm not a U.S. citizen. This leads me to the third reason. Do you know how expensive it will be to change all of those documents just so I can add a name to it all? The answer is very. And I mean it when I say "add" a name and not "change." I originally thought that although it would be difficult to not have my maiden name be a part of my main identity anymore, I could always just make my maiden name my middle name (I don't have a middle name) and then take on the new surname. I was pleased with that idea, and was going to change my name within the first 6 months of marriage. Then somehing happened. My mother-in-law pointed out that we'd then have the same initials. And as flimsy as it is, it is this last reason that's truly prevented me from legally changing things up.
Zak's asked me that I change my name for his birthday present, which is a little over a month away. So it's time to do some serious thinking and make a choice: stick to what I've known for over two decades, or swallow my pride for the man I love.
* from Romeo and Juliet, William Shakespeare
Zak and I are a good team. He's a great husband and I know I'm a great wife. I always know how to make him laugh. I can tell when a bad day at work means he needs a hug or that he needs some down time when he gets home. I cook him (from scratch) three meals a day at least six days of the week. These are some of the things that make our relationship better. But there's one area of being a wife that I've totally failed at, ever since saying "I do" fifteen months ago.
I'm yet to change my name.
Juliet said to Romeo that a name was just a name, it wasn't important. Who cared that she was a Capulet and he was a Montague? It was JUST A NAME. Well, Jules, I beg to differ.
There are a number of reasons, maybe even excuses, why I haven't done this yet. First off, I love my maiden name. It's nothing against his surname, but I love mine. I've known it and had it for nearly 27 years now, and I'm extremely proud of my family. It keeps me connected to my roots. I'm very proud to be English, and I have married and resided in Texas with a Texan. Our kids (if any) will be more Texan than English. So my brain has made the drastic jump to "last name of a Texan = no longer English." I know that's silly (I never promised my reasons would be logical). The third reason even trumps the validity of the second reason. I am actually STILL English, by every sense of the law. I'm not a U.S. citizen. This leads me to the third reason. Do you know how expensive it will be to change all of those documents just so I can add a name to it all? The answer is very. And I mean it when I say "add" a name and not "change." I originally thought that although it would be difficult to not have my maiden name be a part of my main identity anymore, I could always just make my maiden name my middle name (I don't have a middle name) and then take on the new surname. I was pleased with that idea, and was going to change my name within the first 6 months of marriage. Then somehing happened. My mother-in-law pointed out that we'd then have the same initials. And as flimsy as it is, it is this last reason that's truly prevented me from legally changing things up.
Zak's asked me that I change my name for his birthday present, which is a little over a month away. So it's time to do some serious thinking and make a choice: stick to what I've known for over two decades, or swallow my pride for the man I love.
* from Romeo and Juliet, William Shakespeare
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