Quarantined!

DISCLAIMER: This post was written whilst heavily medicated.

It is official. The first wave of the sickness has hit Pilgrims. Kathleen was the first one struck down, followed swiftly by Annie and Sarah. Now it seems Jesse is not safe.

On a good note Kathleen is better, and Sarah and Annie are on the mend with the help of "Night Nurse" and "Mucus Cough Menthol;" and Jesse doesn't seem too badly stricken.

So for the time being visits should be kept to a minimum, until further notice!

After Apple-Picking

...Get it? Cuz I'm studying poetry, and that's, like, a famous poem!

I'm sure one of us will someday blog about, you know, school. But for now, I'd like to talk about the fact that there is a small orchard of apple trees here on the Pilgrims grounds, six of which are presently bearing, four of which are presently bearing well -- crisp, juicy, tart-enough-for-baking, sweet-enough-for-snacking, big, rosy, beautiful apples.

So every few days, Kathleen or I take a shopping bag down to the orchard. Sometimes we bring a camera. Sometimes we bring a friend with a camera. Click to enlarge.

We eat them in sandwiches...

(mayo, horseradish, ham, apple, Brie, sauteed leek)

...in salads...

(spinach, honey-mustard vinaigrette, chickpeas, apple, 
boiled egg, smoked mackerel, crumbled Blacksticks bleu 
and cranberry-Wendsleydale cheeses)

...and, of course, in pastry.

(pie.)

I love picking apples (and peaches, and pumpkins, and berries, and corn, and rosemary, and and and, ad infinitum [NON ad nauseam]). I wrote the following poem a couple months ago; it gets all philosophical or whatever on the subject of trees and fruit. But deep down I'm just flat-out awed by the fact that green leafy things grow up out of the dirt and make flowers that turn into tasty, nourishing food.

Reparation

If you wake
(or dream) to find
your house harboring
a tree trunk
—like a rough sticky pillar
placed by a drunken architect
smack-in-front of the fridge door,
perhaps, or snugged in the crook
of the Steinway, ruining 

the high notes
or precisely between the sitting room sofas,
necessitating awkward
tilts of the head
when company calls to converse—

do not cut it down

(or out or away). Instead enjoy

the scent, the texture,

the surprise of still life.

Maybe if you’re lucky

the creaks you hear in the night

will be the tree 
beginning

to bear the dead wood weight

of floorboards and beams,

gathering and lifting them up onto tiptoe

until at last the whole house

leaves earth

for that slow green ride

toward the sun.
More likely,

the results will be just

disastrous: black roots cracking

your foundation while branches
tangle in rafters
and the widening trunk drips

a slow rain of broken plaster into your hair—

all as leaves press their broad faces

against your window panes

like a gang of laughing children.
Because trees don’t know how

(or when or why)

to stop.
They grow and grow and grow until
they die. But 
it’s the least you can do
to let it so grow—that old stolen apple 

left more than human
skin naked. When the first chill
dropped, what must the robbed

tree have thought

when its bark split

its sap sludged
and before their final fall
its leaves stiffened one by one—
it not having eyes
to see the rainbow glow
the feather flight

of their death?

Transportation is Silly

This post is all about our adventures so far in the many modes of transportation that we have used. Now we have bus passes for the school year, so the majority of our transportation happens in bus form.

Now when we were looking for a home we traveled all over on the bus. Most of these times were fun, like when Jesse pulled the grandpa face and walk when we were the only ones in the upper level.

Then there were upsetting times like when a few NED kids decided to be idiots and try and torment us. That only lasted a few moments, until Jesse (the Irish bum) scared the poop out of them.






We have also had a few funny moments in cabs. My favorite memory was when we had to move everything from the church, where we were storing it, to our new home in Chilham. To say we were squished would be a bit of an understatement.





But some of my favorite moments have been when we are on the train. I don't know exactly why these moments are so funny to me, but they are.

These first two happened after church one Sunday and it's just so silly that I had to post it.




During the conference weekend we took the train several times. I loved that we looked all business-y and yet looked silly to me. Annie's picture looks almost like a paparazzi picture to me.





These last few pictures were of this Wednesday when we were taking a train home from going to see "Back to the Future" in the cinema. Kathleeny was sicky-pants and was bundled up in Jesse's hat, coat, and scarf. Jesse bought Maltesers (British version of Whoppers, but way way better) and decided to make ramp for them to fall into his mouth. He also rolled one to Annie and Kathleeny... I wish my camera had been faster.






I am so lucky to have adventures with these people! They are amazing!

French Dissing...

So Jesse and I took a whirlwind trip to London last weekend and had a wonderful time. We toured some great Peter Pan-centric locations, and then did some regular old sight seeing. More on that later. I would like to share with you our first experience with genuine French...ness.

I always thought the view of French people as "snobby" or "stuck up" was slightly biased. I'm sure there are polite people and not-so-polite people in every country, yada yada yada. So Jesse and I dined at L'Escargot in London, which was quite hoytie-toytie. Dinner was yummy (and reasonably priced as we ate early in the evening--I guess lots of restaurants have a "pre-theatre" rate).

Have you ever seen the episode of Frasier where Niles and Frasier decide to open a restaurant together? There's a small table in a cramped corner that they dub "the enchanted grotto"--this is where they stick Bulldog and his date, etc. Well, Jesse and I were dressed fairly nicely, but we had backpacks on and looked like tourists. When we asked if we needed a reservation to eat, the greeter sort of sized us up and said she would see if they had a spot for us. She returned and led us through the (empty) restaurant to a table in the corner. The ambiance was very romantic--soft candlelight and muted, elegant decor. That is, except for the HUGE gold-leafed T-Rex scull with rhinestone-bedazzled teeth hanging over our table! We were definitely seated in the enchanted grotto. After a nice dinner (the kind where the waiter is ridiculously concerned with the state and location of your napkin), we asked our overly-attentive waiter if there was a story behind the dinosaur head.

"Story? I'm sorry, I don't understand," he replied in a thick French accent.

"You know, a story. Do you have a name for him? Does the staff call him Rex?"

"Eh, just a moment, I don't know--I go check."

At this point, I erupted in a fit of snorts which I tried to hide behind my tired napkin. Oh what a funny miscommunication, right? Another waiter returned to take some plates, and Jesse asked him the same question about having a nickname for the thing. The waiter said,

"Actually, it is art. My boss is very into art, you know, and one day he brought it in his truck. It is 24-karat gold." I laughed at him, thinking, it's so stinkin' huge, he MUST be joking with us. But no,

"It's gold-leafed," he said. We could hardly get ourselves out the door fast enough. There was no language misunderstanding! They were just that serious about their art! And what art!

Goodbye Blog.

Well folks, sorry for the huge gap in blogging, but things have just been too crazy to keep up. We are now in England, and will be for the next year, if not longer. Thanks to all of you who have followed our doings in Spokane! I think I'll let this blog be just a record of that year, with all of its ups and downs.

If you have an interest in keeping up with the New Adventures of Kathleen and Jesse (and Annie and Sarah), please visit our new blog: sillypilgrims.blogspot.com

Thanks again, and happy blogging!

The House of Requirement

Someday, we will post the epic saga of our first week here in jolly old England. Until then, enjoy the below photos of our lovely little home.

Street-view. It's a small annex attached to the main house,
which is 'only about a hundred years old,' according to our landlady.

Our sitting room window-wall, as seen from the courtyard.

Cozy sitting room. We fight over that floral chair in the foreground.

Country kitchen, fully equipped,
down to a roasting pan, a rolling pin, and four egg cups.

Wide shot of the whole sherbang.

The Thorsons' room. Yes, that's a writing desk in the corner.
It has little drawers that you need a skeleton key to open.

Spiral staircase up the turret to Sarah's and my chambers.

Dressing room.

Bedroom. Goose-down duvet and pillows. Charming slanty-type ceiling. Window overlooking the gardens.

We like it here.

Fourth of July

Kids love Jesse. Usually he buys their love with candy, spare change, or Russian death spins, but this last weekend he tried a new approach: pulling teeth. We went to his Uncle Dean's on Saturday for an early 4th get together. Jesse's cousin Mari's daughter Anna (got all that?), who was visiting from their home in Italy, had a loose tooth and let Jesse have a go at it. Why was she so willing? It might have had something to do with Jesse and I telling her that the Idaho tooth fairy pays 5 dollars per tooth...

Here are some more pictures from that night. Unfortunately, I didn't take a picture of the blanket going up in flames...

See? Mari was so happy to find out about the tooth fairy's new rates.

Because every 7/11 has a stuffed bear...

The fruits of our picking labors earlier that day.