Differences Between the U.S. and U.K.

1. The man just came to read the gas meter. I had to let him in, direct him to the kitchen cupboard where it's kept, and let him out to a "cheers, love." A man also came to read the electricity meter. Aren't all these meters now outside in the U.S., if not just transmitted digitally anyway?

2. There is a milkman. Not everyone uses the milkman anymore, but we do. I love it! And the milk does seem to taste better (most dairy products, in fact, taste better here than at home...with the exception of ice cream).

3. Ketchup and Salt and Vinegar chips (crisps) are sweeter. I know everyone says the U.S. makes everything sweet, but I've found most desserts (puddings) here to be sweeter than at home. Sometimes I miss the tang.

4. No tumble dryers. We hang our wet clothes outside or inside on radiators.

5. Buttons and symbols on stoves, remote controls, ovens, vacuums (Hoovers) and pretty much anything electronic, which means i sometimes feel like an idiot when I can't figure out how to work stuff.

6. Loads and loads and loads of words. Where do I begin? onesie (baby grow), dinner (tea), zucchini (courgette), rutabaga (swede), brew (steep), trunk (boot), hood (bonnet), vest (undershirt), waistcoat (vest), suspenders (braces), pants (trousers), underwear (pants) and I could go on and on and on...

7. Intersections and traffic. Backwards and with roundabouts. Nuff said.

8. Fahrenheit into Celsius, pounds into kilos or stones, inches into centimeters (except when talking about height). But a pint is a pint is a pint, thank goodness!

There's a tiny little window into my new life.

Bonfire party photos

Everyone loved the sparklers!
Rachel, Laura and Stephanie attempt to dance the haka, some fierce tribal thing the New Zealand rugby team performs (menacingly) before each match.
I am all smiles at the bonfire birthday party. Look at those flames!
I have a difficult time blowing out the candles on my birthday cake because I am laughing so hard.

Bonfire Night Birthday Party!

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So, yes, I received the birthday gift of an amazing, very fun, very well-attended party, thanks to the Grange family.

Monday was Guy Fawkes Day aka Bonfire Night aka The 5th of November aka My 29th Birthday. I'd had a big party last year and so this year I hoped someone would invite me to a bonfire or something. But then Pete & Sue told me they used to have bonfire parties when "the children" (now 23, 25 and 27) were small and suggested we host another. I was delighted, of course, and sent out invitations with the tagline, "Bad Day for Guy Fawkes/Good Day for Stephanie."

Monday was a quiet day. Even though my U.S. phone didn't start ringing until 1 p.m. (when America woke up), I still got plenty of birthday text messages from thoughtful new friends here. I also received birthday greetings from Pete & Sue (who gave me tokens for buying a new book...they'd picked up somehow that I enjoy reading!!!) and a sweet card from Julia. I tried to get work done but my phone kept ringing and my mobile kept buzzing and then Pete started to build a magnificent bonfire, wigwam-style, in the driveway, so I gave up all pretense of working. Pippa (one of the discipleship year pastors) took me out for a lovely cup of tea and slice of birthday cake at a cafe overlooking a lake in the nature preserve and then I got home and helped prepare food. Julia, who used to work for a professional stylist, then helped me put together a glamorous, cold-weather birthday outfit that meant I wouldn't have to wear a coat (gloves and scarf were very necessary, however). I love having my own stylist--and her closet-- one bedroom door over!

By 7:45, 15 minutes after the official start of the party, everything was ready. Dave (who'd been poring over fireworks catalogues for weeks) had them set up on the lawn, Pete couldn't wait to set off the bonfire with his beloved blow torch, and Sue had broiled 40 sizzling sausages. The onions were fried, the chips and dips ready, the cakes and toffees laid out, everything. We sat quietly in the kitchen, enjoying the calm before the storm, until I quipped, "You know how at the start of every party you wonder if anyone is going to come? Well, that's how I feel right now!"

A few minutes later, though, one person came. Then two, then three and suddenly the kitchen was crowded and we enlisted everyone to carry the food and drinks out to the big table set out in the hedge-enclosed driveway. Then someone called, "Stephanie, there's a horde of people coming down the driveway!" and sure enough, there was a well-bundled, chatty, happy crowd heading down the path.

"More friends!" I cried gleefully and ran from person to person getting hugs, kisses (from the girls), cards and even some presents (lots of wine and chocolate...yay! I shared the wine but hid the chocolate away). Before long there must have been about 40 people present, and Pete torchd off the bonfire to cheers.

After serving hot sausages and mulled wine, everyone walked through the hedge arch separating the driveway from the garden (yard) where the crowd lined up and waited expectantly for fireworks. I must admit I was pretty nervous about this, because even though Dave had been doing lots of research on how to (literally) get the most bang for the buck, we only had €35, and for days guests had been coming up to me saying, "I am *so* excited about the fireworks at your party!" However, I needn't have worried. Dave had arranged two separate fireworks displays and each one filled the air with showers of rockets and stars. There were even the fun crackly ones that I always love to listen to. The crowd oohed and aahed---and once, when a firework ricocheted off a branch and headed towards us before exploding above our heads--screamed and ducked, and then nearly fell over laughing at our fright. It was awesome! We all loved it and all had a blast.

In the break between fireworks we passed out sparklers and they sang to me and I blew out the candles on my birthday cake. As guests walked in ones and twos back through the hedge arch, I stood on the other side watching. At first I was waiting to get through to the kitchen door, and then I just stopped and marveled as each person came through the arch. With the exception of a few friends of Steve, whom I hadn't met before (but who were very welcome), I knew every single person there. Most came from Discipleship Year and small group, as well as a few other ministries I am part of, like prayer on the streets and children's work. And I knew some of them quite well after weeks of serving alongside them.

"I can't believe I didn't know anybody two months ago," I said to my friend Libby (also a Discipleship Year pastor) who was standing with me.

"Just think, all of these people are here because they love you," she said.

"I can't believe it," I said. "It's so amazing. God has blessed me so much with this community."

For awhile I simply wandered happily among the various groups, from those in the kitchen heating mulled wine (you rock, Tim B.!) to those in the garden to those gathered around the food table and the bonfire. It was a perfect night...cold with some clouds, but still stars, and everyone was scarfed and mittened and hatted and happy. Most of the party is kind of a blur, but I remember laughing and laughing and laughing. There was more of the usual teasing about my accent, but when one of the guys jokingly made a disparaging comment about me, "that rude American," a whole group of girls flew to my defense and wouldn't even let him joke about it. I just cheerfully told him if he kept it up I'd shove him into the fire (not a nice thing to say, admittedly, but it was funny).

As it got towards 11 p.m., folks started to leave (it was Monday night, after all), but a hardy group of about 20 pulled up chairs around the fire and we roasted marshmallows and chatted. Folks finally left about 11:15 and Sue and I stayed up until midnight cleaning and talking about the party.

The next morning I received a flurry of wonderful birthday cards from dear friends and family members in the States, all hoping that I felt loved and celebrated. Trust me, I did. Thanks to the Granges and my wonderful new community, I couldn't have had a better birthday.

Chatsworth House and grounds

I decide which book I would pull off the library shelves, were I allowed.
One of Mom's favorite sculptures (a copy of the bust is in the Minneapolis Institute of Art), only this time the Vestal Virgin gets a touch of Christmas festivity. (Yes, we visited on Nov. 3, but the English really get into the whole Christmas spirit thing...early).
It may have been Christmassy inside the house, but outside it was pure autumn bliss.
I pose with my traveling companions and fellow disciples Ruth and Jo. We left Nottingham at 8 a.m. on Saturday morning and traveled by bus about 2.5 hours, stopping in the city of Derby and then little villages as we wound our way into the Peak District and then to Chatsworth House. We spent an hour exploring the house itself but then four hours having a blast on the grounds. We walked all through the formal gardens and got lost in the hedge maze, we traipsed through woods and over bridges, we climbed alongside fountains and took a tram tour of the woods on the ridge and an Elizabethan hunting tower. We picknicked on a ledge overlooking the valley and then had tea and cake in the stables-turned-restaurant. We finally left at 4:15 p.m., took a bus to the village of Matlock and puttered around a bit there before catching another bus back to Nottingham. We arrived home around 7, tired but very happy with our exciting day.

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