Scotland, Day 5

July 31

This morning (again not an early start by my definition) we did a quick tour of the smallest whisky distillery in Scotland. At the end of the tour I waited a good hour or more for my roommate to make his purchases, and then we loaded his goods into the car and headed back to Stirling to tour the castle. This was the first day we had seen without rain. From here we drove straight to our hotel in Inverness.

(PHOTO to arrive soon)

Scotland, Day 4

July 30

Early this morning, if you consider 11am or so early (I don’t), we headed off toward Pitlochry to see Blair and Stirling Castles. Well, we ended up taking an unscheduled detour (don’t tell our host) to see two castle ruins not far from Edinburgh—Dirleton and Tantallon. Tantallon Castle is on the sea and definitely worth the trip. Many of its rooms are still intact and you can easily climb to the upper chambers and roof or the underground cells. It’s location adds an eeriness that cannot easily be described. A sad loneliness that penetrates the heart and brings tears to the eyes. The fact that it was yet another dark rainy day only added to the atmosphere.


(PHOTO to arrive soon)

We ended up skipping Blair Castle entirely, except for a road side photo. And arrived at Stirling Castle just after closing. So, standing in an empty parking lot with very few other people around, we decided to take a few external photos before heading on to our hotel in Pitlochry. Where we were locked out of the hotel—they close up at 11pm—while we were getting our bags out of the car. They did eventually let us in.

(PHOTO to arrive soon)

Scotland, Day 3

July 29

It’s Friday, and we have decided to venture out to Edinburgh on our own. Our hosts dropped us off at the bottom of the Royal Mile (which is actually longer than a mile). Their thought was that we would be able to tour Holyrood Palace before heading on up the hill. It was dry when we arrived, and began raining as soon as we stepped out of the car. We’re not talking the usual drissle that they are accustomed to around here, but a heavy downpour. Due to the wind, umbrellas were useless. I was soon completely drenched, but that didn’t stop me.

The Queen was in town, her annual garden party at Holyrood having been rained out the day before, so we were not able to tour Holyrood Palace, but we did take photos through the gate. Unfortunately, because of the rain and time restrictions (we had to pick up a rental car by 5 and we had gotten our usual late start) we were not able to see much. We did manage to catch a tour bus and take it up to Edinbourgh Castle, where we saw the crown jewels and the great hall before heading out to get the car. We were due to come back to town for the Tattoo in a few days, so we figured we’d get some more touring in then.

We managed to get lost once on the way back to our hosts home and somehow ended up getting turned around and heading back to Edinburgh. We figured out how to get back on track and were immediately rerouted by a parade. At this point we had no idea how to get back to the motorway, but a police woman helped us out. It turned out that we were on the right path all the time. It seems our host had left one direction off his list, though he would not admit it. We were a little over an hour late with no way of contacting anyone and already our host had been calling around trying to locate us.


(PHOTO to arrive soon)

Scotland, Day 2

July 28

Today, in the rain, we toured Dryburgh, Jedburgh and Melrose abbeys, as well as Floors Castle. Floors was the low point of the day, but still interesting.

Our host was a very nice gentlemen who believes in setting a schedule and keeping to it. My roommate, of course, was constantly running late. So, throughout the entire day we were blessed with the words “If we don’t leave now, we will not be able to stop at ______” Miraculously, we made it to all of our destinations with time to spare.




Dryburgh Abbey
Photographer:Zara Elis, Editor: David M. Gordon



Melrose Abbey
Photographer:Zara Elis, Editor: David M. Gordon



Melrose Abbey
Photographer:Zara Elis, Editor: David M. Gordon



Jedburgh Abbey
Photographer:Zara Elis, Editor: David M. Gordon

Jedburgh Abbey
Photographer:Zara Elis, Editor: David M. Gordon

Jedburgh Abbey
Photographer:Zara Elis, Editor: David M. Gordon

Here We Go!

July 26/27--depending on how you look at it.

We actually arrived at the airport more than 3 hours early. This may not seem like anything extraordinary to you, but that just means you have never traveled with my roommate. He is notorious for running late—not a flaw in his character, but rather an endearing quality without which he would lose his uniquness--, which often means that we are running to catch our flights. Not this time though. We have yet to see what the return flight will be like.

Our departure flight was delayed an hour and forty minutes due to a storm in Chicago. Our time between connecting flights was an hour and thirty minutes at the start of the day. Were we worried? Yes. But everyone kept telling us that there would be no problem, until they actually took our boarding passes. The international flights, we were then told, rarely waited for late arriving connecting flights. We lucked out. This time they did wait. If they hadn’t their flight would have been nearly empty, since most of their connecting flights were delayed. We were the last passengers on, our seats had been taken by other passengers who had decided to roam, but more seats were found after some rearranging.

We arrived in Edinburgh the next morning, only half an hour late, and met friends who immediately rushed us off to Rosslyn Chapel for our first bit of touring. This chapel has a lot of history, some real some not, with strong ties to the Templars. One of the projects I am working on uses some aspects of Templar history as the basis for one sect, so I had really wanted to see the chapel. I’m glad I did.

(PHOTO to arrive soon)

From there we went to our friend’s home, and the rain hit.

6 Days to Scotland

And I finally know that I will not be sleeping on a street corner those three seemingly unbookable days. Whew! You have no idea what a relief that is. I think we will not be using this particular travel agent for our next trip.

So my upcoming trip in a nutshell--yes, I know that's a cliche, but this is a blog, so who gives a darn. Day 1, arrive in Glasgow early morning and meet roommate's friends for ride back to Edinburgh and unknown touring schedule of their choice along with dinner. Hopefully, we will squeeze in at least one other meal. Day 2, Rosslyn Chapel and the border abbys--all very important research for one of my projects. Roommate's friends find out what it really means to go touring with two photographers--pity them--though we did warn them. Day 3, faster than light tour of Edinburgh. Day 4, early morning drive to Pitlochry and visiting of all sorts of touristry and historical stuff in the area--castles and monuments, I believe. Light day hike and communing with nature for me--all three cameras with lenses in tow, of course. Day 5, early morning drive with touristry visitations again, this time on the way to Inverness. Day 6, same hotel. Early morning meetup with tour group for a day on Skye. We were going to tour Skye on our own, but we didn't have enough time in the schedule to slowly toodle around. Day 7, faster than light drive (all 6-8 hours of it) back to Glasgow for early afternoon hotel checkin. Day 8 and 9, day tours--whatever strikes our fancy and is in easy reach by train or ferry. We'll most likely spend one day on Arran. Day 10-14, Worldcon convention with possibly another daytrip on Day 10 and another somewhere in the middle of the convention. Day 15, fly home. Day 16, back to work.

It will be interesting to see how much energy we have left after the first week. Just thinking about a trip like this makes me tired.

Countdown to Harry

What publishers will go through to try to keep the contents of a book secret until the release date.

http://www.thebookstandard.com/bookstandard/news/retail
/article_display.jsp?vnu_content_id=1000979412

My nieces and my roommate will each have a copy in hand shortly after midnight tonight. After all, why else would one attend a Harry Potter party if not to be one of the first to get the latest book. There will be flashlights beneath the blankets of the old bunk bed tonight.

As If The Wool Of My Sheepskin Coat Wasn't Already Black Enough....

Whatever will happen if my mostly strict catholic relatives read this and happen to find out what it is I write. Will I be roasting on one of the bbq pits in hell? If I'm lucky, maybe I'll just get demoted to purgatory. Good thing I don't actually believe in either place.

http://news.yahoo.com/news?tmpl=story&u=/nm/20050713/people_nm/pope_harrypotter_dc_2

I don't think my Dad will give a rat's spiney tale one way or the other,--he's the only one that counts. He probably won't even hear about the article, though if he does (most likely from my sister) he may finally figure out why I don't share anything I write with anyone in the family.

Actually, the last time I saw my relatives, I had gone from that overeducated, never married(earned that one before I was 25 assumed to be the result of the first item on the list), born just a wee bit too early to have been conceived during wedlock, left the catholic faith black sheep of a cousin, to famous novelist and nuclear physicist. Amazing what happens when your grandparents die off and your parents start bragging. Of course, now I have to figure out how to live up to the expectations they have set.

Now the worst thing they say to me is "you're what happens when cousins marry." To which I reply, "Yes, I am. Now explain what happened to you."

For Lack of Anything Else to Post

just a little silly something a very close friend of mine wrote in about 10 minutes. Now imagined what she could do if she really put some effort into her work. There are a couple of puns in here--don't think too hard or you will miss them.

Creation By Rochelle Marie

In her hands, Crea held a fish. It wriggled and struggled, it tried to swim and gasped in the cool evening air. Suffocating. It did not die. Crea held firm. She was intent on making it work this time. Eventually the fish relaxed, its breathing returned to normal. Crea smiled and set it belly down in the sand. Instinctively it swished its tail and flicked its fins—four now where once there had been two--, attempting to propel through the air as it would in the water. Its tail did nothing more than sweep out a shallow crevice in the damp sand, but its fins, elongated and moved lower by Crea's gentle experimenting fingers, scooped out finfuls of sand and shoved them backward, while pushing the fish forward, closer to the water's edge. A few more tries and the new landfish discovered it could now transport itself across land. Within moments, it was back in the water. Crea held her breath. Sean watched at the water's edge. He would let Crea know if the fish was unable to breath beneath the cool liquid surface. Sean smiled.

"I think you did it this time Crea. I don't think we will have to start over again."

Crea relaxed, plopped down on the beach and watched the moon rise. It had been a long six days. "We won't know that for certain until it tries to come out again, and even then we will need to see if it brings others with it. Others, who are willing to make the change. Then we will have to decide on the next step. " Crea dug her long nails into the moist sand, plunging her fingers in after them and then curling them up around the sand, molding it tightly in her fist. "Maybe we don't want to do the same thing we did last time. Maybe there's something we can do that will keep them from destroying themselves." She slowly crumbled the clot and watched the smaller clumps fall back to the beach.

Sean shook his head. "I'm tired of cleaning up the mess too, but you know there's nothing we can do to interfere once our subjects reach the level of free will. From that point on, they make their own choices. We become nothing but watchers."

Crea rolled her eyes and sighed. "I know, I know. If they want to evolve, they have to wait for Eva and Lucian's turn to play. Toddlers get to have all the fun."

"I don't think so. All they get to do is mold and shape what we've already created." He reached a hand down to help his sister up. It was time to head home for dinner. "We get to blow things up. That's much more fun."

I Think

--yes, I can do that more than once in a century--that I would not want to be a writer in Kentucky. Especially a writer of dark fantasy or horror.

http://www.lex18.com/Global/story.asp?S=2989614&nav=EQlpWjof

15 Days to Scotland

I saw a sneak preview of The Island on Saturday. This is an excellent Science Fiction movie, and one I would recommend seeing. It will make you think. I would not recommend it for anyone looking for something light hearted to raise their spirits. The movie ends on an upnote, but the subject matter is serious. That is all I will say. No spoilers here.

I was just visiting a friends newsgroup. She was lamenting "I have never reached a point in a hobby where I need the top-of-the-line gear. This saddens me." And I could not help but wonder if this should really sadden her. It would challenge me to strive to a higher goal. But then, if you finally reach the point where you require top-of-the-line equipment for your hobby, is it still really a hobby? Or has it reached the point of crossing the boundary and becoming a job?

Photography is a hobby for me, and yet I now find myself buying more and more professional level gear, simply because my semi-pro equipment cannot be pushed far enough past its limits to meet my expectations. I am approaching the point where I need to seriously consider attempting to sell my work. Friends have been telling me this for some time,--one has even gone so far as to compare one of my nature shots to the works of Georgia O'Keefe-- only now am I beginning to realize that they may have been right. Without even realizing it, I may have turned a hobby into a job. Maybe a better word would be profession.

Writing is a hobby for me as well, but one that I have never thought of as such. It is simply, like all of my other hobbies, something that I do and cannot imagine not doing.

I cannot picture life without my cameras, computers, papers and pens, and musical instruments. I even have paints and sketch pads tucked away for the day when I will have a chance to try my hand at those skills again. I cannot imagine my life without these things, but I know that if they suddenly were no longer available, if they had never come into existance at all, I would still find other ways to occupy my time and be productive. I would find other hobbies.

I wonder, if you enjoy the work you are doing, is it a job, a hobby, or both? Can it be both? Can there be aspects of a job that remain a hobby? Perhaps these are nonsensical thoughts, but spurred on by my friends statement, how can I help but ask the questions.

The nice thing

about having a blog that nobody reads is that I can say anything I want and nobody gives a darn. Of course, anything I say here is politely and carefully sensored, well at least compared to what I put in my paper journal anyway.

17 Days to Scotland

And I have missed my nieces birthday party. At least we reserved the latest Harry Potter book for her. So, next Friday we will take her to a movie and then a midnight Harry Potter party at the local Barnes and Noble. I know she'll enjoy it--besides, she gets to stay up past midnight. Remember back when that was a thrill?

A car has been booked for the three mystery days in Scotland. A hotel has been found and booked in Pitlochry, and several possibilities have been selected for Inverness. The current question is, do we stay two days in Inverness and day trip it to Skye on one, or do we try to stay a day on Skye. My guess is we will do the former. Then make the 6 or 7 hour drive back to Glasgow early on the last morning, check into our hotel for the convention and turn in the car. It's by foot or train after that, with two days to explore and take day trips before the convention starts. I have no idea what sites we will be seeing, but there is time to decide that once we have somewhere to stay.

I think

--believe it or not, I can-- that Friday nights must be one of the loneliest nights of the week. It's a night when those who don't have to work the weekend go out with friends and stay up late to burn off steam. But if you have no friends to share your thoughts with in person, by phone, im or e-mail, it can be a very sad and depressing night.

On the other hand, Friday night has the potential to be one of the most relaxing nights of the week. Not all of us like to fly in a crowd like a flock of geese (or is that gaggle). Some like to go home, shower and collapse in front of the television or curl up with a good book in front of a crackling fire--granted, this time of year it might be a bit warm for a fire, but the sentiment is still there.

For some of us, Friday nights are a time of reflection. Whether buried under a pile of blankets and comfortably burrowed into our beds in a darkened room, or daydreaming by the pool (or that fire that it is just too dang warm for), we think back on our week, on the words that people have said to us and the things they have done for us and we wonder if we fully understood the meaning behind the action, or if we misunderstood. Did we make more of it in our minds than we should of, or did we minimize the action into less than it was meant to be. And sometimes we laugh at the thoughts that pass through our heads, or are surprised at the secrets unleashed by our analysis. More often than not, we simply raise more questions and find ourselves asking "what if" over and over again.

For me, though I will shortly be heading off to a movie with a friend, this is also a night of reflection. It was a long and lazy week, with most of my customers and contacts on vacation, and I wasted my time in nonproductivity--ok, I shopped on-line more than I should have. But I also had a chance to converse, just a little, with a friend--something we haven't done in a while. Something I wish we could do more often and more in depth, but we seem destined to never be allowed the chance. My friend has had a difficult year, and I have worried about him more than I should. I have been very tough with him, and extremely annoying, and yet he still talks to me. Either he is just very kind, or he actually is a very good friend.

Two days ago, in the middle of one of our IM conversations, he called me a "nice girl". It was meant as a compliment, but, naturally, I didn't know how to take it so I answered back with an inappropriate retort. I admit it, compliments embarrass me. I am never certain how to respond to them. Usually I just blush and ignore them, but sometimes my mouth (or my fingers in this case) just blurts without giving my brain a chance to harness it in. "Nice girl"--I've never been elevated to that status before, at least not that I know of. Not even by family. I've been given many titles in my life, none that I can repeat, most of which probably do fit from time to time. But now I wonder does this new title fit too, or is it a lofty goal for me to aspire to--one that I may never reach. Should I sprout wings and try?

And why do those two innocent little words keep running in circles through my brain? Is it the context in which they were said, or is it simply that they made me feel good? Or is it because I respect and trust the person who said them more than most people I know.

18 Days to Scotland

My new digital camera, a Canon EOS 20D, arrived yesterday. Now I have two weeks to learn how to use it before we leave the country. And the ants still trickle into the kitchen. Ah well, what's a girl to do, but try out that new camera with a macro lens. Nothing like digitized, large hairy three globed creatures with pinsers to look at. Maybe I'll use the photo for a screen saver at work?

20 Days to Scotland

Still three days of trip planning to finalize, and the ants have invaded. I woke up this morning to find the kitchen counters had changed color and their surface was moving in unpredictable yet consistant patterns. Little three globe bodied creatures everywhere. I hastily cleaned them up, only to be rewarded by a slow trickle in of more of the persistant creatures. I'm certain, if past experience is an indicator, that the kitchen will be lightly frosted from floor to ceiling with little brown crawly bodies when I get home tonight. That's what I get for flooding the gardens.

They haven't found any food, at least not as far as I could tell this morning. They're simply looking for a cool, dry place to pass the time. If they stay isolated in the kitchen this year, I will be very happy.

My niece turned 12 today. This is the first year that she will not have a full fledged birthday party with all of her friends and sort of friends ( the ones you invite just to get more gifts). Instead, she is having an adult dinner out with her parents. Her father, of course, is panicked. There is now a teenager in his house, and worse, she has already been asked out on several dates this year. He's not ready for this experience, and still hasn't figured out a way to keep all her boyfriends (none of whom he has met) straight. He needn't worry too much though. His daughter is level headed and has refused all but one request. Besides, a date to her is a one hour supervised, during school hours dance or a group function with her Sunday school class. I remember those school dance dates. The boys lined up along one wall of the gym, the girls along another, not a one of them able to muster the courage to cross over the line and speak to the other gender. If you were lucky the music was store bought, if you weren't it was a really bad band from your own class. The teachers did more dancing than the kids. When they weren't dancing with each other they were trying to coax a younger dance partner away from the walls or playing matchmaker. Dating at that age was very simple, but oh just as frightening as it is at any age. And just as exciting.

I wonder what my niece's father will do the first time she comes home and says she's going steady with a boy? Do you think he realizes that "going steady" could be anywhere from a couple of days to a few months and doesn't mean the same thing to a 12 year old as it does to him? Knowing him, I think he will shoot right through the roof and land on the moon, ok, maybe Mars.

25 days to Scotland

And still no list from my roomie for his film order. He's on his way to meet me at Starbuck's though, so there's still a possibility that the order will get placed tonight. I'd keep my fingers crossed, but if I do that I can't type. My orders have already started to arrive.

Tomorrow morning we head off to AAA to finalize some of our travel arrangements. Then it's off to San Diego for a day, with a possible stop at a camera store to exchange a camera body purchased last weekend for a more advanced model. And then back home again to celebrate the 4th with friends, nieces and nephew--safe fireworks and all.

Hmmm, I suppose we need to schedule in some time to buy those fireworks.

It's going to be a very busy holiday weekend visiting with friends and family.

I have pulled an old trunk story out of the file cabinet to see if I can revise it into something a little more likely to sell. I don't usually attempt to rewrite the older stuff, but in this case I think it has potential. It also has some very major problems. If I had written this tale today I would definitely have structured it differently. What a difference four years can make in ones skills and abilities.