goodness, manfolk

Scotland, I am in love

Boyfriend and I arrived in Edinburgh today, and fell in love instantly.  Everything looks old, the accents are hilarious and fun, and we haven’t even been to the city center yet.  It’s been a drizzly evening, the cobblestones are jet black and shining under the streetlights.  The buildings are a grayish brown brick or stone, and everything else is green.  It’s just gorgeous.

kitty dreams of the outside world

But I’m ahead of myself.  Breakfast this morning at the Harrington Hotel in Dublin ended with the waitress calling over her shoulder to us, “Be happy!”  So that was adorable.

We booked it out of there, and made the bus and the plane to Edinburgh in plenty of time.  I looked out the window while we took off, and nudged Boyfriend to wave and say with me, “Goodbye, Ireland!  Bye, Dublin!”  I asked him if he ever did that when his planes took off.  He said, “Yeah, in my head,” and managed to leave out “like a normal person, you hilarious weirdo.”  What a sweetheart.

We took a bus and walked about a mile to our bed and breakfast, St. Bernard’s Guesthouse.  We decided against paying for a cold breakfast and bought some croissants, honey, tea, and cranberry juice.

We wandered a couple of blocks over to find some pre-dinner food (we hadn’t had anything since breakfast except for Worcestershire sauce flavored chips, and some bacon flavored… crispy things.  We couldn’t decide if they were tasty or gross).

Quick side note on airports in Ireland and Scotland:
I’ve never seen so few people, nor so many easy to understand signs and well-organized layouts in airports, at home or abroad.  Kids go running around, playing while the parents read and chat.  The people were so friendly, unlike the TSA people at LAX who are in a constant state of fuck-off.  When I commented on this to a teller, he said, “Well no one’s after us.  They’re just passin’ through to get to someone else!”  Well said, sir.

Anyway, pre-dinner food.  We wandered around and couldn’t find any place that served dinner before 6 except a place called Pizza Express, that sounds like shit but turned out to be a pretty upscale place, and served delicious pizza.  Mine had a fried egg on it, and we split a cider.  Amazing.

We headed back to the B&B to plan out our day tomorrow, and work up an appetite for second-dinner, which we decided had to have meat pie.  We found a delicious steak pie with blue cheese in it at The Stockbrige Tap just down the block from us, coupled with a Black Isle Stout (dark but brighter than Guinness).  We got to listen to the locals chatting in surprisingly comprehensible local accents, and had a nice walk home in the chill air.

There’s a small park just outside the B&B where someone was hosting a large party today until late into the evening.  It says light so late here (the lights come on around 10) that it’s easy to stay out later than you ordinarily would.

I’m super excited about tomorrow!  We’re taking a bus to the city center to save time and energy to visit the Undergound, a statue of a dog, a famous pub, and a museum.  I’ve been too excited to sleep for a few nights because of the cool stuff we’ve had planned for this trip.

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goodness, humor, life

It’s code for rom-com

Boyfriend and I have been dating for just over three years now, and we’re still very much in love.  This is new for me.  Usually I leave after about two years.  I guess when people say, “The magic was gone,” maybe that’s what happened in my past relationships.  I just wasn’t in love anymore.  I wasn’t as happy as I knew I could be.  So I left.  Imagine my surprise when anniversary number two came and went without any change between Boyfriend and me.  Our love stayed strong, and I’m happy.

One night when Boyfriend came home late from work, he tip-toed over to where I was fast asleep to say hi before getting ready for bed.  This is common for us; to prioritize a loving greeting before all else.  Of course, I was notorious for talking my sleep at the time, and was completely passed out.  Boyfriend’s hands are usually cold, and I’ve always been known to generate heat at an alarming rate.  So when he touched my face and hand that night, I apparently reacted in typical sleep-talking girlfriend fashion: I said, “No no, frozen pizza, no.”  Then I insisted that “Pizza goes in the oven,” and put his ice-cold hand against my white-hot stomach, and pulled my shirt down over it, encasing his hand in my own personal furnace-tummy.

Thus were our pet names born: He is Pizza, I am Oven.

with anchovies and green olives

He left town today for a great job, and he’ll be gone for two weeks.  I’m really proud of him.  He’s going to make it, and he deserves to.  Meanwhile, though, I miss him pretty bad.  I always cry when he leaves for a job, even if it’s only for a few days.  The act of separating is what’s so hard for me.  Being apart is pretty lame too, but I’ve always been good at entertaining myself.  He says he loves me because I’m strong.  I cried when we said goodbye this morning.  I can’t help it.  I love my Pizza.

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