Two Years

We haven't forgotten you, Laura. We still miss you terribly.

Always will.

Why? or, Not the Point

I have read multiple news stories about 18 year old Butler Community College student Emily Sander, and in every single one it is pointed out in great gory detail how she led a "secret double life as an internet porn star". At the conclusion of this article, which focuses almost entirely on the details of her internet presence, it is noted that: "...Sander's Internet activity had no connection to her disappearance. "The issue of the Internet and the spinoff of that has been literally crippling our investigation" [Police Chief Tom Boren] said."

Fabulous. The patriarchal bias of the media has inhibited the investigators and likely delayed the discovery of her body. Hell, the approximate date of her death is not mentioned in the article; for all we know, she may have been held captive during the early part of the investigation. Had the media not been so needlessly and insultingly focused on what she chose to post on the internet, perhaps she could have been saved.

Someone stop the planet. I think I'd like to get off now.

Finally, or, YES!!

This is awesome. Really and truly fantastic. I'm very proud of my MP's right now. They've done a good thing, even if it ends up being largely symbolic. I say screw bilateral relations with the Japanese government; it's about damn time.

What's that again? or, UFO, or, Unbelievably, a Finished Object!

Yep. I knit something. And I finished it. And I've worn it. Awesome.



Pattern: Urchin by Ysolda Teague
Yarn: Sheepjes Inca in Wine
Needles: 7mm
Modifications: Hmm, I needed a small-medium sized hat, but the yarn was of a finer gauge than the yarn suggested in the pattern, so I began by knitting a medium, but it was a little smallish due to the yarn substitution. So I reknit it in the large size, and now it's a little on the loose side. Argh. I'll probably frog and reknit on 6.5mm needles this weekend to snug up the fabric. Still, the hat is fab, and the pattern is PERFECT! I think I've just become a very big fan of Ysolda's!

The split-neck raglan hasn't had any progress at all, and I have one almost FO to show off in the next few weeks, so there will be more to come, I promise! To tide you over, here is a little bit of Wembley!

33, or, long time coming

It has been 33 days since my last post. I totally lost my blogging mojo. It was terrible. I would think of posting (very rarely; I even lost my remembering mojo!) and come up completely blank. It was actually rather depressing. I have had things to say, things I've thought, but actually putting finger to key in some coherent sense was simply unthinkable. Blegh.

Fortunately, things are looking up. I'm feeling the old blogging spark smouldering away, and I'm excited to think that I may be back in the swing of posting regularly very very soon. Maybe now. Perhaps this is the first of all the frequent posts to come. I make no promises, but I offer hope.

What's also been frustrating is that when my blogging mojo went on vacation, it appeared to take my knitting mojo with it. I have a few suspicions as to precisely why that may be, and I'll explain them soon, but in the meantime, I have no knitting news or pics to offer you. I foresee myself diving back into my split-neck raglan within the next day or so, though. I'd really like to have it finished in the very near future.

It's cold here! Perfect sweater weather, truly. In fact, I woke to a thick blanket of snow this morning. Wet and slushy snow, it's true, but very pretty nonetheless. It made me happy. The Man, not so much, but I've always been a bit more of a freak about winter than he.

I have an incredibly angry and heartfelt post about evilness written, but I suspect that I was just too overcome by recent news when I wrote it to be in any way coherent or objective, so it will undergo some thoughtful editing before it's actually posted.

Some people have all the luck, or, The Week

The Man and I were married February 12, 2005. Since then, life has been a struggle. We have endured bad jobs and unemployment, and in the course of our almost-three-year marriage, we have survived - barely - on very little money, usually from only one income. It's been tough, it's been heartbreaking, and there have been days when I have very seriously wanted to just run away. Not from him, or from us, just from the world. Abandon our debts and live as nomadic bums. It isn't that this option is really so attractive, just that there have been times when I - when we both - have felt that there is no digging ourselves out from under the pile beneath which we are living.

Some people seem to be born under a lucky star. I dated two such guys in my early twenties. These are the people who go out shopping for cds and are offered two jobs along the way, apropos of nothing. These are the people who, when looking for apartments, finagle their way into a superintendent gig as well, thus allowing them to live in beautiful, sizable spaces for very little money, and very little work. These are the people whose parents buy them houses for kicks.

The Man and I are not these people. We are the opposite. He says that, statistically, it stands to reason that if some people are frequently lucky, there will also be people that generally are not. I still feel like I'm battling some cosmic force.

Except this week. In the past 6 days, we have gotten two pieces of very good news, including a job for The Man! He started a new recruiting position yesterday afternoon. It's a three month contract, but he has leads on future jobs, as well. We are thrilled, and apartment hunting this weekend. The sooner we can get back downtown and out of the uber-burbs, the happier we will both be. Walking to work will be such a relief after months of terrifying bus-rides (seriously: the bus drivers in this city freak me right out!). Being blocks away from our dear friends, K & M & little I-B will be wonderful. I am breathing easily once again, for the first time in two months. While I wasn't a wreck this whole time (which, considering my anxiety predilections, is quite remarkable) I have certainly been all-too aware of the stark reality of our financial situation. But no more!

::

I am behind on blogstalking by two weeks! I apologize, stalkers, but I PROMISE you: the pic of the statue will be up tomorrow afternoon and it is worth the wait! It's weird, it's big, and it's installed on the approach to the stunning National Art Gallery. I'm snapping the pic tomorrow afternoon; it should look awesome.

Up next, or, *Eee!!* They're here!!

My KP Harmony needles! I only ordered one size (I am, how do you say, cheap and anxious because I'm the only one with a job) but I'm still excited! They're preeeetty:



What's more, the arrival of these needles allows me to start on my warm handspun sweater. I'm using this yarn and the Raglan Generator. My plan is to supplement my limited supply of handspun with deep ribbing at the waist and cuffs of the lambswool. BUT....the question is: do I knit a pullie or a cardi? I'm not certain. My plan has been to knit a split-neck at the left shoulder with the lambswool, as well as buttons up the ribbing at the waist at the right hip, but I'm wondering if such a thick sweater would be more wearable as a cardi. My concern is that the lambswool button-band up the centre might hack up the continuity of the knit.

I'm so indecisive. Any thoughts?

Just in case you were concerned that the package contained anything less than entirely innocuous, Wembley gave it a good check before I ripped into it.

Shiny, or, A Nice Blend

"Helena" cotton/rayon blend from CirculoYarns. Destined to become Sahara.

There and Back Again, or, Bussy

I've been busy, but mostly, I'm bussy! Living in the 'burbs, and working in the downtown core in a city with a serious problem with it's road-way infrastructure (way too few lanes between the suburb I live in and the city proper), it only makes sense to take the bus. It's ecologically responsible, too, which is always a nice aspect!



That's a bus. That's actually the bus that brought me home this afternoon. The Red and White Rocket, as one particularly gregarious bus driver likes to announce it over the bus PA.

<-- I start out here. One bus, from that stop all the way downtown. No transfers is a nice luxury. Gives me ample time to read or knit without worrying about getting off and back on to another bus. Most days, the bus is the only motorized vehicle I set foot in. We have a car, but it stays home on work days. It isn't interesting, but it's how I get around.

::

Friends of ours are FINALLY getting married this weekend (it took awhile for the groom to accept this whole "getting married" thing). October in Ottawa generally means autumn, however, the forecast is calling for mid-twenties temperatures, so typical seasonal formal wear is a little out of the question. I haven't been to a summer wedding in a while (lil' sis's doesn't count as I was a bridesmaid) so I need to acquire me a dress in short order. A little empire waisted number in this fabric should work, don't you think? The spots are actually much pinker than they appear in this pic (nothing like taking pictures under compact florescents at night!) and on a just-off-white ground. Almost breaks the "no white at a wedding" rule, but I think it's polka-dotted enough not to be a problem.

Blegh, or, A bad case of the Yucks

I'm feeling pretty crap lately. Don't know why, and really, what does it matter, except that my brain appears to be rapidly deteriorating into a state of mushy incoherence? Yup, pretty fonging crappy.

I feel very stupid. Hence the greatly reduced frequency of posts. Also, there are sooo many more people in the office now (which is great, don't get me wrong*) that it's hard to do up a post at work without being discovered. I'm a sneaky blogger, you see. And once I get home I generally feel rather disinclined to sit and bang out posts after sitting at a 'puter all day at work. So I don't, and my blog suffers and stagnates.

Apologies. Blogstalking post should be up this evening, all things being equal, and I believe there may be some pr0n looking to make an appearance tomorrow.....

*How sad is it that I only just noticed the gross grammatical problem with that phrase?!

Gutsy, or, late!

My purse. It's about to be replaced, hopefully, because it's starting to fall apart, but for now, this is what I carry to and from work most days. Above, you can see my earbud spool, and the book I'm currently reading, A History of Reading by Alberto Manguel. It's very very good; I recommend it.

So what's worthy of note? Well, the fact that I have hairpins in multiple pockets (I generally have hairpins in every purse I ever carry, and in at least one pocket of almost every coat or jacket. The 3 pattern row markers are still in there from when I was knitting the BIL's kilthose. The MAC lipgloss I got - free! - when I took back 6 empty MAC containers. It's a great reuse project they have, and the lipgloss is fabulous! And I've been looking for that earring...

Finally, or, Trippy scarf

The Jaywalker scarf! My diversion and companion on my flights to and from Russia, and on the long bus rides during our stay. I finished it a week ago today, but hadn't had the chance to photograph it properly until this afternoon.

Details

Pattern: The Jaywalker scarf by Javajem
Yarn: Jitterbug by Colinette in colourway Jay
Needles: two 3.5mm 6" bamboo dpns by Crystal Palace
Modifications: none. Mistakes, consistent. I misunderstood the instructions for almost all of the decreases, which resulted in the pattern not turning out quite as intended. What is most problematic is the result on the right-hand edge of the scarf. Independently slipping the first two stitches knitwise, and then knitting them together, rather than slipping them together, knitwise, and then knitting them together, resulted in some loose loopiness on that edge. And I do not like it.



So what can I do? Frog the entire thing and reknit it? Grrraawwrrrr.....

Regardless, the yarn is awesome, the scarf is a nice, easy knit, but not boring, and the finished object is lovely to wear. I just hate that edge.

Baby sheep, or, To a Tea

Rowan Lightweight DK, 100% Pure New Wool. Found for a steal in a discount basket at the LYS.

Sum, or, Blogstalking!

Who am I? Here are the most significant what's which make up my who.



I am a wife. The Man and I have been married since February 12, 2005. Being a wife has not long been an aspect of who I am, but it is something which shapes every day, including how I spend my days. Having a career-like job, rather than incurring greater and greater student loans through various graduate studies purely out of fascination which could drag me across the country, spending evenings at home or generally with my husband rather than downtown, considering issues of public education and politics which are of particular concern to people with families, or intending to someday have families are all ways in which being a wife has changed the shape of my daily life. It also means I have someone with whom to live, and with whom I can speak and share. It has also shaped my feminism, which is also an enormous part of my identity, which informs my outlook on the world. It is, however, remarkably difficult to photograph feminism.



I am a student. Despite the fact that I haven't been registered since April 2005, or that I haven't set foot in a lecture hall in almost two and a half years, I still consider myself a student. My joy is still in learning, in considering, in reading and discerning. I have topics for three or four research papers cooking up in my philosophical brain at any given time. I have kept all my texts from undergrad because I am, quite simply, far too attached to them and fascinated by the contents to sell them or give them away. And I reference them regularly, often in conversations with The Man. Our areas of interest and expertise differ so greatly, it does come in handy to have primary texts to which I can refer. Through my studies, I am a philosopher, a classicist, a considerer of world religions and a theologian.



I am a singer. I am also a choir member at my church. For that matter, I am also a Presbyterian, which is actually quite indicative of my personality. I am very Presybterian. I can honestly say, as a student of religions with a focus in Christian theology and practice, that Presbyterianism is absolutely the best fit for me. The fact that I was raised so is just a nice plus, almost a coincidence, really. I have been a first soprano at St. Andrew's, the church where The Man and I met, and where he was raised, for over four years. It was through the choir that I met my vocal coach, and it has been my lessons with her that have allowed me to begin performing amateur opera. Singing is euphoric and something I was meant to do.



I am a dancer. I began ballet lessons at 4, but for the past 12 years, Highland dancing has been my chief source of joy and exercise. Though I retired in June, I travelled on a first and final trip with my dance company to Moscow only weeks ago for an international dance festival. Now retired once again, I continue to teach classes at the studio. It's a joy.



I am a knitter. More generally, I am a fan of textiles, and the construction of garments. I worked briefly as a seamstress - not a handy way to make a living, that - and spend many of my free hours knitting or sewing, if only because I cannot justify spending my limited income on clothes I could make myself. So that's what I do.



I am mama to my furbaby. Wembley is my pride, my joy, and my baby. I have, unwittingly, turned her quite entirely into a toddler. She is cuddlier than any dog I have ever known or met, and does things which seem to me not canine at all. I love her.

So that's me. I'm other things: a Whedonophile, a bookworm, a yogini, but these are the elements of my identity which are most primary to me.

Blogstalking, or, Reconciled

Argh! We're not even a whole week into the latest round of Blogstalking, and I'm already behind! I kept forgetting to pick up new batteries for my camera after I used up the last ones in Moscow, and then ended up staying at work yesterday over 2 hours later than I normally do. How, precisely, did I end up with a job that requires me to reconcile statements on a regular basis? What a mess.

So I apologize, dear Stalkers, that I have yet to post my first Blogstalking post. But rest-assured that I am cooking up a good one, picture heavy and hopefully pretty. And that is the plan for this evening. Choir is still out due to the slow-healing of my laryngitis (at least my speaking voice is starting to return to soprano-like registers, rather than the contralto I had for a while there) and besides, it would be rude to invite a guest into our home and then abandon him to his own devices on his very first evening. My dance-friend, Kiltwin, currently volunteering in Mexico, has a lovely mini-Schnauzer named Sprite. Her parents are going out of town for the weekend, and since Kiltwin is in Mexico, Sprite needs a sitter. And that's us! I'm mildly worried that he and Wembley won't get along. I have no reason to think that will happen, I just know that it would be deeply unfortunate if it did. I expect they'll enjoy each other's company. It should be a fun four days!

Check back again tomorrow for at least one post; if I'm really on my game, I'll hammer out another Russia post, too!

Sick, or, nah, just sick

My Russian-derived cold was abating, but appears - during the course of its retreat - to have left the door open, allowing another cold to sneak in and take up residence. I am feverish, I am congested, I am not impressed.

I am out of sick days. And the Husbeast is unemployed. So taking a few unpaid days to get well is, quite simply, not an option.

I am going to be ill for the rest of my life.

I'll blog the Kremlin later, hopefully tonight, at home. Now, back to my regularly scheduled workday.

POCCNN::4.5 and onward

Now, where was I. Right. Grocery shopping. Bus-ride home. Both good things.

We arrived at the compound, took a moment to drop our bags and groceries (I later wished I had picked up more in the way of food: long bus-rides really call out for snacks, don't they?) and head to the dining hall for dinner. If I remember correctly....we had pork. I believe it may have been a large hunk of pork. Yes, just what my veggie eyes wanted to see. So, yogurt and mashed potatoes it was, with tea and bottled water, secure in the knowledge that I had food waiting for me back in the room.

After dinner, I thought it wise to recharge my mobile phone. Yes, I had brought it with me. It serves as my alarm clock and my mp3 player, so I left the phone itself inactive, and only turned on the necessary portions (something I am thrilled that my phone allows me to do). I went to my backpack to grab my phone and...it wasn't there. Gone. Earphones: gone. No sign of it. I tore my bag apart: nothing. My garment bag with all my costumes: nothing. I walked out to the lobby where the "boys" had settled in for a night of beer: "Jim, my phone is gone." He came to my room, we tore my bags apart, again: still nothing. We knew I had had it that morning, because I had used it to send a text message to Jon asking him to call the Glengarry and Navan studios, so that the parents of all the dancers could be contacted to let them know all was well: we had positively no access to landlines by which to contact people. But by the evening, my phone was missing. The only explanation we could think of - as all the girls said they had not seen it - was that it had been nicked. I borrowed Heather's mobile and sent Jon a text telling him I thought it had been stolen, but that I'd get back to him in a few hours after more looking. Then I sat, knit on the scarf for a bit, and quietly fell apart, briefly. I was exhausted, I was terribly, terribly ill, and my mobile was gone. And with Jon out of work, there was little way of replacing it.

A short while later, I grabbed the one, incredibly large, bottle of Russian beer I had purchased that day at the grocery store, walked out to the lobby, held it out to the guys (I didn't have a bottle opener, and it required one) and said "I need a drink". Chuckles all around, and a moment later I was seated on the floor at Heather's feet, pleasantly drinking my beer.

It was an enjoyable, if rather crazy, night. A while later, Heather and I determined that we needed some vodka, and wandered over to the bar to purchase a bottle, some Coke and some juice for mixing, and the night improved from there. It had been determined that it was in our collective best interest for us to travel not in the pairs as we had originally thought, but in groups of four or five. This was due to some overzealousness on the part of a few of the men from some of the other countries. So in our packs of girls we headed out to the disco for some dancing. We had a great time, and turned in at a respectable hour, happily aware that the next morning was not as early as the last two had been, and that it would be performance-free!

::5

What joy, to awake less than 2 hours before breakfast, shower, dress, and NOT french braid our hair!! Breakfast was...not served to us. For some reason, the staff refused to serve our table. Yogurt and rye all around!

As we were gathering up our cameras and passports for the day's excursion, one of the girls from Glengarry enters my room and asks "Is this your phone?" And yes, it was!! It was a brilliant start to a very good morning.

Into Moscow we drove on our buses for a tourist-y visit to....the Kremlin!! For the duration of our trip we had been cloistered: in the compound, on our buses, in our fenced backstage areas. The opportunity to walk outside and visit one of the most notable, most historically significant and most beautiful areas of Moscow was very very welcome.

::And my mum just invited us over for dinner! The Kremlin was so awesome, in the truest sense of the word, that it really does deserve its own, picture-heavy post. I'll try to have that up within the next day or so.

Another one, or, pr0n-less

Yup, another Friday sans-pr0n. Last week, I was just off the plane, terribly, horribly jet-lagged, and unable to see straight, let alone take artsy pictures of my yarn. The week before, I was in Russia, so a bit of an impossibility there. This week: the lack of sleep has caught up with me, and I've been headed to bed around 8 pm every night this week. Last night, the Husbeast was at choir (I can barely speak, so singing for two hours would be unwise at this point) and I was in pj's and snuggled in bed by 7:30. Yup, right when they were warming up at the church, I was climbing into bed. I was knitting! But I was definitely ready for sleeping shortly thereafter. Also, I'm still battery-less in the camera-department. I must remedy that within the next day or so.

I have several days of trip details to right up, photos to mosaic, WIP's to photo, and hours upon hours of sleep to catch up on. My plan is to go to bed this evening whenever the mood strikes, and then stay there as long as necessary to feel rested. Between the lack of sleep from the trip, the jet-lag, and my cold (FINALLY abating!) I'm just done right in. Hopefully, 12 hours of sleep or however much I get tonight/tomorrow will help the situation.

**Ever notice how many rather colloquial phrases force English speakers to defy the laws of grammar? It is, quite simply, next to impossible to use a phrase like "done in" without dangling a preposition at the end of the sentence. Perhaps my awareness of this fact is really my brain telling me to use more formal language and drop the colloquialisms. Meh.**

POCCNN::4

Waking sleepy, congested and exhausted, we readied ourselves for our second and final show of the festival. The shows were, logistically, so long and involved that it didn't feel that we'd only danced twice by the end of this day, though that was certainly the case.

After a breakfast of what looked like hot dogs, cold canned peas (why, Russia, why?) and some crepe-like pancakes with chutney, we loaded ourselves onto the bus for some tourist-y fun before our afternoon performance. We drove to the Museum of the Great Patriotic War, which is WWII to, you know, the rest of the world. The museum is massive, and very much about the glory and honour and blah blah blah of war. Don't get me wrong: some incredible heroism took place in the course of the war, but focusing on glorifying death and explosions is simply not my cup of tea, whether justified or not. Regardless, the building is quite impressive, and possessed of a very "Russian" proportion.



We were led through the museum in our bus groups, though all the dancers for the festival visited the museum at the same time. Our tour guide made frequent reference to "the fascist Germans", meaning the Nazis, however, the judgment rang rather false seeing as how we were in RUSSIA. I felt particularly badly for the German and Austrian dancers: the Germans because it was their nation being judged so poorly, and the Austrians because of the historical animosity between the two nations due, of course, to the actions taken by the Nazi forces in the course of the war.

After a brief tour of the museum - which, we were told, would take 8 hours to tour fully, thank you very much - for a rather 'spun' interpretation of the war, we were treated to lunch in the museum's dining hall. A roasted vegetable salad, which was a welcome change from the starch and protein, followed by *sigh* a large chunk (and I do mean chunk) of pork with rice. There were also small stuffed rolls, filled with shredded cabbage and onions; they were incredibly good!

The stage for the afternoon's show was set up on the approach - an expansive, stepped, pedestrian boulevard - to the museum. The day had turned out sunny and relatively warm, affording us the opportunity to relax on the steps in the fenced backstage area with our fellow performers. The number of countries involved in Sunday's performance exceeded that of the day before: dancers from Syria were now included, and a bluegrass band from Utah. We took pictures, socialized with other dancers, and generally enjoyed being performers, learning and teaching steps to each other. It was a very nice afternoon. Our performance went very well, and without incident; while our musicians and the sound tech had had issues the previous day, which had resulted in a few moments of little-to-no sound, Sunday's show was issue-free.

After our show, we visited some of the folk-art booths nearby, and listened to a band playing traditional Russian music on traditional instruments. People in folk costumes were dancing before the small stage, and one of the young male dancers, who was also involved in the festival with us, approached us, saying "Please, someone must dance with me!" It was sweet, and Angie responded "Sure! I'll dance with you!" She looked like she had a very good time.



Back to the bus. Here we get a little TMI, but I'm trying to be thorough, and really, this was rather amusing to me. The amenities we "enjoyed" in Moscow were...questionable, at best. Often, things were astonishing, but such is life, and I'm not prude enough to be entirely shocked by the reality that most of the world is not as obsessive compulsive about its toileting facilities as North America. I was feeling a bit "I'd like to pee" but was not entirely looking forward to checking out the port-a-loos in the backstage area. As I approached the line of blue plastic huts with my friend Heather, three of the Italian dancers were doing the same. The three dancers, all male, systematically opened the doors of the loos, looked inside with trepidation, and then exclaimed loudly with expressions of horror and disgust on their faces as they slammed the door. It was really quite funny, but also rather disappointing, as I was fairly certain that I was at least as possessed of prudish sensibilities as the Italian men; so I waited.

After we had climbed onto the bus, our teacher came aboard and said we should come outside for something. As we got off the bus, in a large open space between buses, a group of dancers, primarily Eastern-Russian dancers, were dancing and singing in a circle. They opened the circle to include us and the other countries who approached, and we spent a long time chanting the Russian words and moving in a slow circle, enjoying the community that dancing provides. Later, we were told that the meaning of the lyrics may have been, *ahem* less than entirely PG, but we were delightfully oblivious at the time, and it certainly makes for an amusing story now, that 17 Canadian dancers were dancing in a circle loudly chanting in come-ons in Russian in front of the massive Moscow war museum. As the circle of dancers broke apart to board our respective buses, a woman who was obviously Eastern-Russian approached us and asked if we were from Canada. We said yes, and she asked if we were from Ontario, to which we responded yes, and she enthusiastically, in thickly Russian-accented English, exclaimed, "I live in Toronto!" We were very surprised! The day before, in the heart of the city, we had encountered a Canadian family from Ontario, who had lived in Orleans* a few years ago. Canucks are everywhere!

On the way back to the compound, our dance teacher's husband, Jim, requested of Yuri, our festival organizer/tour guide/resident socialist, a beer-purchasing stop. We visited a grocery store outside the Moscow city centre, where we found beer, Russian chocolate, cookies, some sort of puffy poppy-seed things, and a not-horrifying WC. It was a good stop.

::

Sorry for the abortive post. Soooo sleepy. Dinner, dancing, an unfortunate discovery, and a sobering conversation in tomorrow's post.

*Orleans is a suburb of Ottawa, and the neighbourhood in which the majority of our studio's dancers live.

Lagging, or, All Drugged Out

Tomorrow turned into today, and, I know, I haven't posted on the trip again. I came home with serious jet-lag (this morning was the first since my return that I didn't wake at 4 am thinking it was time for lunch), an ugly cold, and terrible laryngitis. I skipped out of work two hours early to take a quick visit to the doctor and get a scrip for some antibiotics to tackle the raging throat and sinus infection I'm now enjoying. Fun times.

What's particularly fun - not - about taking the antibiotics is the likely effect on my digestive system. Due to the starchy, fibre-less diet we encountered in Russia, and the effect it had, and now the influence of the antibiotics on my little body, I will have experienced the full spectrum of intestinal fun!

That was a little TMI; I apologize. But such things are certainly a part of the sphere of international travel, aren't they.

Later today: An actual trip write-up! And I'll flesh out the pics on the last two posts, as well, including links to the sets on Flickr.