Wales is Just Rad.

As you all probably know, Kathleen is back in the US seeing some friends, hitting the beach, and enjoying her time off. In the past when she has left me alone, I generally turn it into a Boy’s Weekend of sorts which means my friends come over and we drink a lot of beer, eat Crab Rangoon, and usually surf. However since 3 out of those 4 things are not currently available I had to think of another way to ‘seize the opportunity.’ One of the things I have learned about Kathleen is that she absolutely hates to get out of bed in the morning. It does not really matter what is planned for the day, weekend or weekday, she likes to sleep in. As do I, but my idea of sleeping in is to about 7:00 am or so at which point I am ready to take on the day. Since we had come back from Wales, I had been thinking about hiking the tallest peak in the country – Mt Snowdon. The problem is that there is only one small parking lot from the trail head and everywhere stated how early it filled up. Considering we are about two hours away from said car park this would mean that if I were to climb it, I would have to leave the house early… like early early. So when I saw the weather was looking decent for today, I began to plan it all out.

My day started at around 4:15 AM. That is when the alarm went off and my partner for the day, Miller, was at my bedside immediately licking my face. I took him for a quick walk, and then debated whether I should feed him so early or wait. I figured it is not great to hike on a completely full stomach so I fed him quickly and headed out. The drive over was pretty painless and we were making good time. That was until the sat nav told me to get off the highway and I found myself on the scenic route. Oh yeah, Welsh roads… I had forgotten how they are like mountain biking single-track through the woods: Narrow and windy with not a lot of room for forgiveness. We wound our way through some amazing countryside and picturesque towns until we reached the trail head. Luckily, there were some parking spots left and we quickly geared up and headed out.

Our route was to follow the Pyg Trail up until it converged with the Miner’s track. Here the incline would increase dramatically and I had heard tales of people down on all fours climbing. I was a bit nervous about Miller as this was a pretty hefty hike with some supposedly technical ascents and some very steep faced ridges. I should not have worried one bit as he did much better than I. Although he’s no Darryl Strawberry (well I mean, who is really?) catching fly balls in the park, he is one agile little mutt. This part of this hike was absolutely outstanding view-wise. I had heard many people compare this hike to those in the Scottish Highlands and I was not disappointed. We were surrounded by sheer rock cliffs and clouds you could nearly touch. Below us were a series of lakes, which I had promised Miller we could hit on the way down. The weather was at times sunny and bluebird and then pouring down rain. It was a bit windy but the air temp was good though so we were doing well.


Miller even met some friends.

He was also good at blending in with things.

Well, only in Black and White.

As much as I was looking forward to the hike itself, I was not looking forward to the summit. They have a steep railway up to the top and I had heard on nice days it can be a mob scene. Additionally, word was they built a café on the top and today was opening day! However, I was going to overlook these as I was really there for the hike itself. Miller was not too excited about the summit either though.

Luckily the crowds were scare because the summit was socked in with cloud cover. However, this did impede my views.

On the way down, we took the Miner’s Track in its entirety so we could hit the lakes. Miller swam a lot, much to the enjoyment of a group of school kids.

Overall the hike was amazing, but not nearly as long or difficult as I had thought. It was only 11:00 when I got back to the car. Since the sun had come out (for good it looked like) I decided to take Miller down to Criccieth. This was a small sea-side town where Kathleen and I had visited earlier. I remembered the beach was pretty decent so we packed up the car to head down. As we were doing so, I found a small surprise in the back of the car. It seemed Miller does not really like Welsh roads either and my decision to feed him first thing this morning was a bad one. Vomitous dog!

After a quick clean up we drove down to Criccieth (this time I tried to drive more slowly). We parked at the beach and walked a ½ mile down or so to avoid the crowds. The water was actually clean and there was no litter. There were a lot of rocks on the beach, but it was great. The sun was out and Miller swam a lot. I even decided to take a swim as well, however Miller was not into the two of swimming together. At this point, I must admit I began to miss the Cape and Surfing a bit. However, seeing the old Criccieth Castle sticking out on the horizon to my right:

and the mountains of Snowdonia to my left:

I was pretty damn psyched to be in Wales!

On our way home we had another harrowing drive on the Welsh road. This time there were runners as well! It seems like there is some sort of large scale relay race here, similar to Vermont’s 100 on 100 (fitting, no? Vermont=Rad, Wales=Rad).

I weaved my way through the runners, on-coming traffic, and some bikers as well. I am not sure of my time, but as you can see I finished the leg.

The rest of the drive was uneventful: Miller stinking up the car and me fighting yawns. I got back and took a long nap. I am now enjoying a well-deserved glass of Irish and trying to decide what to plan for next weekend!

Maydays, Maydays, Maydays

It’s been a crazy few weeks, and I’ve owed an update to the blog for some time now. Since Mark’s last post, we’ve welcomed the other Yates brother to Liverpool, explored Manchester through the lens of 80s post-punk bands Joy Division, New Order, the Happy Mondays, and others, celebrated a birthday (Mark’s thirty-third) and I’ve visited Finland, among other marathon business trips, for work. After all that, I was left holding down the fort in Liverpool with Miller while Mark headed home for some much-deserved R&R and time with friends. I kept meaning to post while he was gone, but we got some long-awaited sunshine and warm weather, and I found myself restless in the house and every time I opened the laptop, I would shut it again to grab Miller’s leash and head outside.

First things first: besides the Factory Records tour in Manchester, we also showed Bill some of the local sights here in Liverpool, including another visit to Crosby Beach. I think we can all agree that we don’t need to take anymore people here. Plus, it just seems to get sadder and bleaker with every visit (see previous references to British litter). 

But his trip was quick, and before we knew it we had dropped Bill off at the airport. That night, I took Mark out for a great meal at 60 Hope Street, our new favourite restaurant in the city, as part of a belated birthday celebration. Then, it was off for a few nights visiting customers down south and then back to Liverpool to catch a flight to Helsinki.

I had been really excited for my Finland trip, but I can’t say that it was particularly memorable. I hadn’t mentally prepared myself to spend over nine hours a day in a trade show booth, and our hotel location (abutting the airport, a €30 taxi ride from the city) didn’t lend itself much to exploring. Nevertheless, we managed to see a bit of downtown and enjoyed the crazy daylight hours (the sun didn’t set til after 11pm each night) while walking the cobblestone streets of Senate Square. I also managed to convince my colleagues to spend our final evening having dinner in this gem of a restaurant, and I highly recommend you take some time to explore the website and the dinner menu. I had the sautéed reindeer, which was… interesting. Glad I tried it, but don’t know if I will be having it again any time soon.

My arrival home was bittersweet, as I only had two nights with Mark before he departed on his own trip. I dropped him off at the airport at 445AM, bleary-eyed and with a confused Miller in the back, and couldn’t help but feel jealous.

That weekend, to stave off depressing homesickness and loneliness, I took Miller for a long early morning walk (we’ve got some friends along the route, now) and returned home to find 20 roses on our doorstep; a seven-year anniversary gift from Mark.

I cleaned up the flowers and then headed in to the farmer’s market. There was fresh rhubarb and tiny strawberries, asparagus, lettuce, and all sort of other gems. I found myself filling my bag with all sorts of vegetables, fresh bread (though, to be honest - £2 for a loaf of bread is just stupid), and some spicy North African merguez sausage, pushed into my hands by a very vocal butcher armed with a knife the size of my thigh. I couldn’t say no.

The streets were also full of photographers, armed with digital SLRs and patrolling our little street and the Lark Lane market. I did a little sleuthing online and discovered this flickr photo set and thought I would share. The shots of the street full of plantings and flowers is our street, and the guy with the crazy hair is our kayaking neighbour. I think his name is Steve, and he literally kayaks almost every day - though I’m not sure where. All the flowers are grown and taken care of by another neighbor, Brian, who is also helping me plant some flowers in our backyard.

The rest of the weekend was spent doing errands, cleaning, long walks with the dog, cooking some more and trying desperately not to eat all the strawberry rhubarb crumble immediately. I succeeded, but only kind of. (I saved a bite for Monday morning, just so I could say it lasted three days).  

And, actually, the rest of the week was sort of more of the same.

I have to confess, another reason I haven’t posted is because I’ve been fighting a sort of, not really, but kind of can’t ignore maybe-depression. Chalk it up to homesickness, belated adjustment to a new home, or a combination of other things (and those of you we’ve been speaking to know what I’m talking about), I’ve just been finding it more and more difficult to ignore.  I am trying to stay focused on the positive, though, and am looking forward to my own trip home as a way to recharge.

So, come to think of it, I’d better head to bed. My 4AM wake-up is only five hours away...

36 Hours in Belfast, Northern Ireland

A lot has changed recently in Belfast, despite the unfortunate violence a few months ago against British soldiers. For those who find themselves with a day and a half to spare, there are a plethora of great restaurants, new shopping centers, and of course pubs to keep you busy. Additionally there are monuments, murals, and sites in abundance for those wishing to try to make sense of and reflect upon ‘the Troubles’ of the recent past. And for those who are willing there is even a marathon to throw into the middle of your visit!

Sunday

9:00 AM
1) Dog Drop Off

First ‘to do’ for any dog-owning couple embarking on a journey is to make sure your bud will be well taken care of while you are gone. Kathleen and I had somehow managed to arrange for a colleague of mine look after Miller. What had started as a genuine inquiry about local kennels, eventually turned into my colleague’s two children bragging to all the neighbourhood about how they were getting a real American Dog for a couple of days. We had pre-arranged a meet up in the park last week to be sure that Miller got on with the other two dogs in residence, and all had gone smoothly. So we (almost tearfully) dropped Miller off to the open and very willing arms of my colleague’s family.

12:00 PM
2) Lady Dixon Park and Guinness Pies

We had no problems getting our flight over to Belfast and I would have to say it was one of the fastest flights I have been on. We were up and down in under 30 minutes. We hopped a cab into town where we met up with a shuttle bus to take us out to Lady Dixon Park to pick up my race number. The shuttle took almost as long as the flight and only ran every 40 minutes. This turned out to be my first experience with the poor race planning. When we eventually got back to the city we were starving.

Belfast has many places to sample the local food and drink and emerging from the shuttle bus, we stumbled into one that had actually been recommended. The Crown Liquor Saloon is a beautifully restored ‘Victorian Gin Palace’ that stands out by it’s ornate architecture from down the street.

Upon entering, you are immediately drawn to the series of private booths that line the right hand side. These are fully enclosed dining booths with doors on them to provide privacy. Apparently they were not originally designed for private dining, but were created so that folks could slip in and have a pint or two without the whole town being aware of it.

Unfortunately, these were full at the time, so we took our seats at the bar. One look at the menu and we both immediately ordered the Guinness and Steak Pies which were absolutely wonderful. Kathleen was able to accompany hers with Guinness proper while my ‘training’ dictated I abstain.

2:30 PM
3) The Falls Road Walk

After checking in and a quick sniff of our rooms unique aroma (as of March 31st, all rooms are non-smoking!), we decided to spend as much time out in the city as possible. There are not too many things to do and see in Belfast, but both Kathleen and I wanted to check out the Falls Road. This is a road that runs through the traditional Catholic and Republican centers of the city and was the focal point for a lot of the rioting and violence that occurred in the recent past. We walked about 15 minutes from our hotel and crossed over a large bridge. As we walked further on, we notice more and more graffiti. Some simply read ‘IRA’ whereas others were much more provocative and violent. One of the scariest things we saw were the words: ‘There is more to come – RIRA’. The RIRA or Real Irish Republican Army was one of the groups claiming responsibility for the killing of British soldiers a few weeks back.

We continued on up to the intersection of the Falls Road and Grosvenor Road where there was a park. This park was nicknamed Looney Park due to the fact that it faced an old insane asylum.

Taking a right on the Falls Road, we saw many buildings, monuments, and murals that all referenced ‘the Troubles.’ One of the most moving was a large mural on the side of the Sinn Fein headquarters of Bobby Sands who died leading a hunger strike in prison. On the side of this mural were the words ‘Our revenge will be the laughter of our children.’


Further down the road was the Garden of Remembrance, as well as various murals painted in solidarity with the Republican cause.

All of these juxtaposed a Loyalist Mural we saw earlier in the city of a masked man holding an AK-47 announcing: ‘You are now entering Loyalist Sandy Row, heartland of South Belfast Ulster - Freedom Fighters.’

All of this gave me a lot to think about over the next few hours. I was surprised to see so many of the emotions and views out in the open and on public display. Real or imagined there was a sense of eeriness in the air. Kathleen remarked how she felt like we were being stared at and on our walk over we watched some kids climb onto a shopping center roof and throw rocks down at a pedestrian. There was also a sense of sadness that seemed to pervade a lot of the city. Our walk reminded me in some ways of Pnomh Penh, which is another city I have been to that has experienced some absolutely miserable shit (albeit on a much grander scale). However despite the awfulness of what happened, there was clear logic to the feelings you experienced wandering the city. I mean the Khmer Rouge were real bad and I don’t think many people would argue you on that. Here your emotions were not as black and white. The murals and memorials brought forth a whole host of conflicting thoughts and notions. At a very base level our walk really showed us how fucked up things got over here and made me realize again how lucky I have been over the years.

5:00 PM
4) Dinner and a Movie (or vice-versa)

At this point both Kathleen and I were a bit tired (physically and perhaps emotionally as well). We had initially planned on going up to Shankill Road which is at the heart of the Loyalist sections of the city, but decided against it. Instead we went to catch a movie before having dinner. Our supreme sense of direction dictated that we see ‘State of Play’ rather than ‘Wolverine’ (we got lost and were too late for the latter) and we both enjoyed it. Afterwards we grabbed a quick pasta meal at Maggiono’s. Despite being a chain, the pasta was quite good and just thing to carbo-load for the next day’s activity. After dinner we had a leisurely walk back through the city to our hotel. The smell had not really dissipated and I was feeling a bit anxious about the next day, however a few Tylenol PM ensured a good night’s rest.

Monday

9:00 AM
5) 26.2 Mile City Tour

OK, so my sleep was not exactly ‘good.’ Despite the wonders of modern over-the-counter drugs, I still managed to get up and use the toilet about 8 times. I finally got out of bed around 7:00 AM to face the inevitable. It wasn’t that I was not excited about the marathon, but I hade been having some shin issues for the past month or so. It was nothing debilitating, but enough to cause me some anxiety and question things a bit. Additionally, a few days prior I had the bright idea of actually investigating reviews of the course online and let’s say I was not super amped on reading about chaotic relay check points, walkers starting in front of runners, industrial estate backdrops, and apparently some cobblestones at Mile 21. So it was with some trepidation that I slowly did all my pre-race rituals and we headed down to Starbucks for a quick dose of caffeine. Over coffee, we plotted out Kathleen’s best viewing options and then set out to the start.

True to the online reviews, the start was kind of a shit show. People seemed to be jammed in everywhere with walkers mixing with runners mixing with staff mixing with relay runners mixing with spectators. There were barriers up but these meant nothing. A quick kiss to Kathleen and I pressed my way towards the front. I never even heard a start but people began to move forward en masse so I threw on my headphones and was off.

The first six miles were essentially a run out to the airport and back to the city. On my way out I was a bit concerned as my shin starting hurting from the get go but these concerns gradually yielded to the more pressing matter of the auto traffic just feet away from the course. This was the first time I understood that they really did not close most of the roads on the course, just simply thinned them out a bit. Regardless, I came back into the city feeling strong and my shin mysteriously began to numb itself. I caught Kathleen right where she said she would be and then headed back out of the city. The next few miles were through various neighborhoods of Belfast, starting with the Falls Road from yesterday. Some areas were bleaker than others – mainly those that featured a few armored cars and cops with machine guns. Not sure if this was because they were the only personnel available, but they definitely served to remind you that you were indeed in Belfast and that last years race had to be diverted a bit due to a bomb scare.

The course continued outside of the city into the suburbs and along the slopes of Black Mountain. There were some great views of both the city and the Irish Sea below. Spectators were sparse out here and many seemed more interested in watching us idiots undergo our self-induced pain rather than cheering. However there were the odd few who were really into it and every so often a cute little kid holding out candy or high-fiving runners. At one point I saw one older man with an NYPD shirt on and got excited. However rather than making any sort of sense in my attempts at communication I simply made a few gestures and spat out “New York” with my fist in the air. The guy stopped clapping and just kind of stared at me wondering who the hell I was and what I was trying to say. Pretty funny.

Around mile 15, the course started to turn back towards the city. I was still feeling quite good at this point and my splits were looking just fine (in fact at one point I apparently did a 7 minute mile, but considering that this was followed by a 10 minute mile, I think the markers were a bit off). My shins were fine, I was amply hydrated, and ready for the second half of things. Unfortunately, at this point the course turned along the harbour. On paper this looked to be a great section of the race, but in reality it was awful. It was simply a bike path with a large hedge on one side and the M2 motorway on the other. People talk about hitting ‘the wall’ when running marathons and I guess this was mine. Around mile 18 I realized I was exhausted, hungry, thirsty, and actually just bored. There was no scenery, were no spectators, and nothing to do but keep moving forward. The only thing I kept on saying to myself was ‘this is why I have been training’ and ‘this is why I have been getting up at 5:30 every morning.’ I guess it was my way of guilting myself into running harder – I mean I am Irish after all.

To top all of this, I came around a bend to read a sign ‘Marathoners Caution: Controlled Crossing Ahead.’ It seems they thought it might make sense to allow an open road to cut through the race at intervals. All of a sudden we were about 40 runners backed up, running in place, and waiting for a traffic cop to let us through. Well runners are kind of pig-headed and really self-important (me being the exception of course) so when we waited about a minute without being let through we simply ran out into traffic en-masse. The crowds that were there burst into cheers as we all flooded out and back into the race.

Kathleen chose mile 21 to wait for me and I could not have been happier. I had been through the worst part of the race and had just gotten through the deadly cobblestones. On top of everything, she even chose to trade me a nice dry headband for a dirty, sweaty hat on the spot! It must be said now that she pretty much rules for putting up with all my bitching and moaning while I train for these things, and then actually coming out and spending an entire morning trying to catch a fleeting glimpse of me while I run by.

The next five miles were back through the city and around Ormeau Park. For the most part they were incident free, but there is still something scary about running right next to road traffic so late in a marathon. At mile 25 or so I finally allowed myself to start believing that I might do pretty well in this race. As I said my splits were looking really good throughout the race, but my superstitious self would not allow me to actually envision beating my best time of 3:54. However when I saw the finish line I knew it was certain and pushed on the last few yards to cross in 3 hours and 46 minutes! The next 15 minutes were a blur as I drank everything in sight and stumbled into the Tennis Center to pick up my bag. It was standing there unpacking my dry clothes that I realized how psyched I was. The past five months had been a real pain in the ass training wise which meant I was not feeling super confident about this race. However, I managed to get myself through it and do better than I had allowed my self to consider. It is kind of crazy. Here is my amazing medal:

3:00 PM
9) Guinness, Powers and George Best

After the race, Kathleen and I hobbled home to our hotel. I was taking it slow and Kathleen was delighted at the opportunity to break into ‘Lean on Me’ whenever I staggered or slowed down. I iced down my knee and showered, and then headed out to lunch (the room still had that smell to it). We grabbed lunch at a noodle shop and planned on heading back to the Crown for some victory brew. I had snuck a taste of Kathleen’s Guinness the day prior and she had promised to buy me some post marathon. Unfortunately, the pub was closed so we went to a place that looked like it had the right combination of authenticity and sketchiness: ‘The Beaten Docket.’ Sure enough we were right. There were horses on the TV’s and our bartender was a young man who was missing his front tooth (presumably in a fight) and served us pint after pint of thick black stuff that Kathleen thought tasted reminiscent of vanilla ice-cream. Additionally, she even sprung for a few shots of Powers to celebrate (yet another reason why I have chosen to marry this girl). We ended up getting in a multitude of conversations with our bartender and the few locals seated around us. All were very friendly and talkative. Kathleen impressed them all with her knowledge of beer at which point they rightfully guessed she was Irish. They were suitably impressed with my morning’s activities, and were very interested in what brought us to this side of the pond. We learned that although they might love the football none of them really enjoy the city of Liverpool that much. One of the guys spoke briefly to Kathleen about growing up in Belfast (said the violence did not affect him to much) and we told them all how much kinder on the ears their accents were compared to the Scousers in Liverpool. However, I think the most important thing we learned was how much they all hated George Best. Apparently he was a football star who got cirrhosis of the liver at which point his notoriety enabled him to get a liver transplant. Afterwards he never quit the drink and died two years later. Now the Belfast City airport is named after him much to the chagrin of all our new drinking friends.

Finally we realized that we had better get to the airport as we thought our flight left at 8:00. Turns out we were wrong and spent an extra hour sitting at the airport reflecting on what a great weekend was had.

Final Thoughts

All in all, it was a pretty fun adventure. We got to travel somewhere neither of us had ever thought of going to and I think we were both moved by what we saw and the people we interacted with. My race was pretty much amazing despite the all the logistical issues and I am already plotting my next one (even though I said no less than a week ago that this was my last). Miller was amazing and the envy of the neighbourhood and has a standing invitation to return to my colleague’s house. It is Monday and I have been working from home and hobbling around the house. Miller is a bit peeved since I walk so slowly when we go out, but we’ll be back running again soon. However before I start training for another marathon I have a lot of skating to do…

... And we're back!

For those of you still reading, we are still here, we're good and we're sorry we've left the blog alone for a few weeks. We could blame it all on Miller, but the truth is we haven't had much to write about.

Well, beyond how much fun it's been to have that little furball waiting for us every evening when we come home. We've been spending as much time as we can out in the park, in the early morning hours and after dropping off our keys and grabbing Miller's ball at the end of the day. Mark's been having Miller join him on his morning runs (only a few more days til the marathon!) and has actually been able to have him off lead. I know Miller's enjoying it because I walk out of the shower in the morning to find him curled back up in his bed, sleeping after the exercise and his breakfast.

This past weekend, the weather forecast was touch and go until Friday afternoon. When we saw the predictions of sunshine, Mark went online and found a hike in the Lake District, several hours north of us.

Saturday morning, we packed up our bags and coaxed Miller into the car. Two hours later, we had left the industrial flatlands behind and found ourselves surrounded by rolling hills and cosy villages. After a bit of difficulty finding parking, we were off:

While the six miles weren't the most grueling we'd ever done, it felt great to get out of the city and see a bit more of the country. It was my first trip to the Lake District, and Mark's second. Keswick, where our hike started and ended, was a pretty little town with a market in full swing. After dodging raindrops on our return, we stumbled into a small vegetarian cafe with a bicycle shop attached. They sweetly welcomed Miller in (we were prepared to sit outside in the rain on benches to eat our lunch) and we had a great meal. Including Miller, who got four dog biscuits at the end for being so good.

The rest of our weekend was spent wedding planning. We've picked our readings and have sketched out the majority of our ceremony service with Carol. I've begun sketching out a website for our guests to learn more about the area and our plans. We've also picked out wedding invites, which I will be printing, assembling, addressing and posting while I'm home in June. We're picking out our wedding bands and trying to pick an engraving.

While at times we've both grown a bit stressed, I know we're both looking forward to the big day. It's just a bit difficult to stay focused on the end goal, and trying not to sweat the small stuff. I've found myself growing increasingly homesick, and I think that's definitely coming into play. It's hard not to feel out of touch and a bit sad when we keep imagining and planning having all the people we care about together - only to realize how far away that day is. 

It will be good to head home in a few weeks...

Early wake-up

So as Mark has already mentioned, Friday was amazing - it was an early, long gray ride down to Heathrow, but Miller recognizing us and seeing that face and the wagging tail - totally worth it. Especially since Mark drove the whole way back, so I could pass out in the front seat.

We got home and took Miller out to Sefton Park where he was able to fetch one of his new toys and smell all the new England smells, and then returned home to have some Jamaican Me Hungry jerk chicken and watch TV with Miller at our feet. All in all, a great but exhausting day. We briefly discussed the merits of Miller joining us upstairs to sleep, or whether we should try to crate him to get him used to being away from us (the separation anxiety is still a little cute, but we probably shouldn't encourage it)... The decision made, we bade him good night and crept quietly upstairs.

We all fell asleep in moments, which is why it was so disconcerting to be woken up with a loud car alarm in the middle of the night. I lay awake in bed, my eyes squeezed shut, counting on its owner to come out and turn the alarm off. It paused briefly, but began again and I thought to myself - shit! I have no idea what our car alarm sounds like! - so scrambled out of bed and pushed the shade, glowing a soft orange, aside. I stared in disbelief, then reached back to the nightstand to put on my glasses.

What I saw was this (but imagine that it's darker, and thus more ominous):

"Mark, Mark! Wake up! The car's on fire!" 

(admittedly, a little ambiguous, but I was sleepy)

"..."

"Mark, I'm serious! Wake up!!"

"Shut up."

"MARK, I AM STARING AT FLAMES OUTSIDE. There is a car on fire, we've got to move our car! We need to call the fire department!"

At this point, Mark started cursing and joined me at the window. When he saw the 10 foot flames climb higher, he jumped into action. I started throwing jeans on and ran downstairs. I picked up the phone and tried to remember the emergency number we'd seen posted in London (they don't have 911 here) while Mark scrambled down the stairs looking for the car keys.

I called 999 and watched as Mark ducked into the car. At this point, the fire had moved from the back of the pickup toward the cab of the truck, and we both worried about the gas tank exploding. Unfortunately, our street is very narrow and at night there are cars parked on both sides. We always turn our car around when we park (for an easy exit the next day) but that forced Mark to drive slowly (and closely!) by the burning truck in order to move the car far away. I watched as a horn began honking (I thought it was Mark freaking out, but the extreme heat and the alarm on the truck caused the honking sound).

Suddenly, I remembered I was on the phone. I heard a woman's voice repeating itself:

"Miss, ambulance or police?"

I tried to explain that there was a fire but she just kept repeating her question. I finally took a stab: "Police, please" and again tried to explain where we were located but found that I was speaking to no one - I was being transferred. I explained myself to the police woman who answered the call but she said we needed fire. I told her our address and she hung up to contact the fire department.

At this point, Mark ran back into the house and said we needed to get out. We took Miller out of the crate and I put on the first shoes I could find. As we ran out of the house, we could hear small explosions (at the time, I thought fuel, but in retrospect I think it was the windows exploding from the heat) and ran to the end of the street. I looked up and could see a fire engine struggling to pull down our street (it only made it part way) and the firemen running to the fire.

After another five minutes or so, a young man in a leather jacket ran out of the house three doors down from us and toward the fire. A woman in a bathrobe came out of her house at the end of the street and chatted with us briefly before returning to the house. I think she made fun of us for evacuating our house, but Mark could verify.

It turns out that the truck belongs to the young guy, our neighbor. He seemed OK about it (as OK as you can be at 5AM on a Sat morning upon discovering your car is ablaze) so Mark is thinking insurance scam. I think it's a cigarette butt, or possibly some of the kids down our street who are out all hours of the night, playing ball where it is clearly marked "Polite Notice, No Ball Playing." The saddest part is that the next day, we peered into the back of the truck and it was full of Easter chocolate, now charred and inedible. 

Also, guess who joined us in the bedroom at 530AM? And has been sleeping with us ever since?

blah blah blah dog blah blah blah

So this has been a pretty fantastic weekend thus far. In addition to the fact that we got four days off for the Easter holiday, and that two of those days have been blue bird and sunny, our good friend Miller aka Millhouse aka Milldog aka Miller Time aka Ole Dirty Miller (notice I did not mention ‘Mi-mi’ Nikki!) has finally arrived on our shores. As most of you know we have been eagerly awaiting this and spending a lot of time stressing over it. We both heard a few horror stories about dogs coming over and not having their paperwork in order and having to go into quarantine. Therefore despite the fact that we checked all of the details a million times, we were both a bit nervous driving down to Heathrow on Friday morning.

However everything went perfectly according to plan. We got down to the Animal Reception Center, signed in and waited about 10 minutes. Soon enough they called our name, we signed a quick document and they walked him out. He was cowering a bit and nervously shaking his hind quarters but he saw us and his eyes lit up. He even came right over and licked my face just like the first time we met. This coupled with the fact that he urinated on the floor due to nerves assured us that all was exactly as we had left. Kathleen took him out right away and they frolicked a bit.

We drove him home and immediately took him out for a long walk around Sefton Park. Here he immediately fell in love with his new ball thingie with feet and horns and showed off how well he has gotten at fetching. He was incredibly jet lagged though so we called it an early night and put him to bed rather early.

We did not have a completely restful night, but Kathleen will fill you in on that next post.

On Saturday we headed down to the river to check out the promenade. On the way, we discovered Pleasure Island (or what is left of it) but this again will have to wait for another post. As I said earlier, it was a beautiful day and it was perfect for just bumming around down by the river. Miller met a few friends and was again the envy of pretty much everybody. We then headed over to an outdoor beer garden and posted up with the pup for a few pints. It was one of those perfect spring days to sit in the sun and have a few drinks. Easter weekend is pretty rad over here…

Today is Sunday and we knew it was going to be sunny again, so we took Miller to his third country: Wales. We took him to Conwy for a six mile hike up and across the ridges of Mt. Conwy. At only 995 feet, it was not the most strenuous hike, but it sits right on the coastline and there were some killer views. There were also feral ponies that sparked a discussion on how much time really needs to pass between feral and wild. We also wondered why little girls want ponies so badly. Kathleen was really no help in this department, but she said a few times how much she wanted one when she was younger.

After descending the astounding heights we had reached, our hike cut through a few sheep farms. Again, I was amazed how so much land here is okayed for public use. We just walked through people's farms and it was no issue at all. Well, not to the farmers anyway. Miller distinctly dislikes both sheep and lambs. He does not really enjoy being close to domesticated ponies either.

We made it back to town alright and I grabbed a few paninis while Kathleen and Miller hung about and watched traffic. We have noticed that he has gotten some separation anxieties, but who can blame him? Whenever one of us leaves, he freaks out a bit until the person returns. It is kinda cute at this point, but hopefully will not get worse. We did leave him alone in the crate for a few hours yesterday and he was cool.

So all in all, we are feeling pretty great to have him here. So big thank you’s to all who helped us get him here, especially Nikki and Dave and my parents. You will now go to Heaven. I found out today, so you are psyched.

Oh yeah. I got a sunburn today on my bald spot. That kinda sucks but is funny too.

T-12 hours

Last weekend we were blessed with a truly rare occurrence in Northwest England: an entire weekend of gorgeous, sunny weather.  

What else... Oh, yes! You may have already heard, but Miller Brosnahan Yates is due to arrive in the United Kingdom in twelve hours. In fact we might have already told you, ad nauseum, about how much we missed him, how we counted the days until he would join us, how teary-eyed I became while watching ten second videos sent over by his Aunt Nikki.  Allow me to nauseate you further.

Saturday was spent driving out of the city to suburbia and strip malls... Home of 'Pets at Home,' our closest pet supply store. There Mark and I wandered the aisles examining unfamiliar brand names and debating the merits of attractive packaging and pronounceable ingredient lists. Having settled on 15 kilos of food for Milhouse, we then made our way to the bed section, unloading our entire Miller-is-finally-joining-us saga to an unsuspecting couple purchasing a new bed for their dog while we pulled beds out and debated the value of houndstooth patterns vs. a supportive mattress. Our selection made, we then filled the rest of the cart with assorted toys, treats, shampoo, brushes, toys, treats, a new leash and collar... All to the tune of £130. Which really is just  a drop in the bucket, considering how much his one-way airfare cost.

And it's all worth it. Though I have to be honest, the cookies at the end are really more about Mark finishing his last ginormous training run (twenty miles!) before running the Belfast Marathon on May 4th. Because I want to be sure to replace all the healthy things he did, like burning calories, with butter. And Green & Black's chocolate.

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The video below has been making the rounds at work. I cried the first time I watched it and then immediately grew suspicious that I was being 'had,' as they say. A quick check on Snopes.com verified the story, and I convinced a few colleagues to watch it again today. And I cried, again. I may be a giant sucker, but let's just say that Mark's Flip camera might be recording a few poignant moments tomorrow afternoon, and we'll see if I'm the only one crying this time...

Outlaws!

One of the best parts about living in Somerville was that we were in very close proximity to my parents. Most couples would worry that being so close to parents (especially retired ones) would result in surprise visits and a lot of obligations to spend time with them. I think the opposite was true for us, as we were the ones who would most often drop in on them for the weekend, take up residence, and not go home until the last possible moment. My parents must have realized quite soon on that they would miss our constant presence and hearing the senseless bickering of Kathleen and I, because they started to plan their visit relatively soon after we had left the US.

They had set their trip up so that we would have to minimize the time needed off from work and yet they would still be able to spend a lot of time with us. They would spend the weekend with us, then take a trip up to Scotland and the Lake District, and then return on for a long weekend back here. This also turned out to be a good plan, because there just isn’t a lot to do around here for long stretches at a time, and having the trip split up took some of the stress of.

For the first weekend, we decided to give them an intro to Liverpool and Manchester. It was a beautiful day on Friday, but unfortunately by Saturday it had turned grey and cold. We did the usual rounds of museums and sites, but where we really scored again was with the food. On Friday, I took them for an amazing lunch at Leaf which despite the horrid sausages Kathleen had on our last trip serves up some amazing other dishes. My parents noted that they felt like they were in Brooklyn and I realized again how much I loved the vibe of the place. That night for dinner, we went out to The Moon and Pea. I still cannot get over how amazing this food is. It is one of the least pretentious environs I have been in, yet the food is incredible. Anyone who comes to visit us should demand a visit here! On Sunday we went to the Museum of Science and explored around the city a bit more.


Since we were looking for new things to do, we decided to ride the gigantic ferris wheel in the city. Kathleen was a bit… well you can see the picture:

She is apparently afraid of heights but managed ok, and we were all proud of her.

The following week at work was super busy for myself and Kathleen had to travel. I skated at night and just generally relaxed while my parents were off having adventures of their own (including clipping a woman’s handbag while they were driving, but I am not going to go into that…).

Kathleen and I were off the following Friday and we took my parents up north to the beach at Formby. I remember one of my parent’s favourite parts of our trip to the Netherlands was just seeing the beach, so I showed them what our beaches look like. Again, they were a total mess from trash but the Irish Sea was quite dramatic. The wind was blowing hard on shore and generated quite a bit of wind swell out in the sea. The waves were not really clean at all but there was some size to them and a few shoulders could be seen… I can’t wait to surf again!

We dined at Paul’s on Friday night which was again excellent, and explored the cathedrals in Liverpool on Saturday. Again, everyone preferred the old traditional Anglican, rather than the new modern Catholic. Kathleen commented about how intimidating it was and I thought a lot about how some religions really profit on putting fear into their congregation. As much as I love the look and feel of the place, it did make me look at in a different manner.

One of the reasons my parents decided to come when they did was that I had signed my mother and I up for the Liverpool Half Marathon. Although the numbers did not fit in exactly with my training, I played around with the schedule a bit and made it work. The race was set for Sunday morning and with all the wind and grey skies the few days prior, we were a bit nervous. There was no need to worry however because we woke up on race day to absolute blue bird skies! It was so bright and sunny, it seemed like the perfect day to get out and run 13.1. Kathleen and my Dad once again got prepared to deliver us to the start, planned out where they would catch us half way, and made arrangements to get to the finish line in time. I’d have to say they both make running these things much easier in terms of transportation, ‘sherpa’ing, and supporting us both. The race itself was wonderful. We ran from downtown Liverpool, through Albert dock and up into some of the better parks in the area. It then wound down to the river and the final 4 miles or so were a long the banks of the river Mersey. It got a bit tight at times so I found myself weaving between people a lot but everyone was in great form and the sights were amazing. However one of the most memorable parts was at the start when my father disappeared amidst the thousands of people gathered. No sooner than we noticed he was gone, we heard a familiar American voice booming over the PA system. He managed to get on the mic and wish my mother and I luck for everyone to hear. I think he enjoyed himself. All in all a great race day and I would highly recommend it for any runners looking for a new race.

Kathleen had to head down to London for some science thingie, so Sunday afternoon and Monday were just my parents and I. Both my mother and I were wiped from the race so we really just relaxed around the house and watched some movies. We decided on the Moon and Pea for dinner again (it does not get old) and then went to a local open mic night that an acquaintance of mine put on. He had wanted my Dad to get up and play his new banjo, but we were all exhausted and called it an early night. All in all, it was a great trip and I was glad to have my parents travel abroad again to visit me. Some people would not really enjoy being abroad with their parents, but I would have to say mine are pretty laid back and it was great (the two bottles of Irish they brought with them were nice too!). I think I give them a good excuse to get out of the neighbourhood from time to time and it was great to have a piece of home around for a few days.

Now it Saturday morning and I am sitting in our dismal Laundromat. I ran 20 miles after work yesterday and it was pretty tough, but the sun is shining and it promises to be a great weekend. We are headed out for a long walk in a bit and then off to the pet store… I think the next post will have some recent pictures of Milldog if we can take the time away from him to update this!