A confused daffodil

Somehow this daffodil did not check its calendar to see that the date was January 12!  Until this weekend, we have been having rather warm weather (climate change!) and both flora and fauna were getting very confused.  This blooming was the most extreme example, but we have seen flowers around town starting to grow, too.  They are in for a shock now that it has dropped below freezing!

We drove to Heathrow to pick up my parents from their red-eye from Chicago, headed straight to Folkstone, and boarded the Euro Tunnel. I thought my parents would be excited to have the experience, but they both slept through the entire journey because of jet lag. Once on the other side, we immediately headed west to our cottage in La Manche, Normandy.

On Christmas Day, we stayed in, enjoyed the fire, each other’s company, strange classical music on French radio, and ate a big Christmas ham (with Champagne glaze!) that was brought all the way from Aber.

The weather on Boxing Day was fantastic in the North of France. It was clear and in the low to mid teens (Celsius). Our first sightseeing stop took us to Mont St. Michel at low tide.

The approach to Mont St Michel

The views provided were just as stunning as the photos we had seen. The street was narrow and remarkably crowded for a December morning. After reading that 3.5 million people visit every year, I couldn’t begin to imagine the place during high season.

The abbey itself was quite unusual compared with other abbeys we have been to. No two adjoining rooms had the same floor level. There were always a few or many steps between rooms. Also, the abbey was quite bare; there was not much of an artistic touch in the rooms. I guess that is the result of using the abbey as a prison in its past.

After having a lunch of a galette, we left Mont St Michel and drove into Brittany and the town of St. Malo. IAC and I were hoping to suddenly start seeing Breton on the road signs so we could see how close it was to Welsh, but we apparently didn’t go far enough west. Following the advice of our friend E, we did some shopping in the old town and then joined the rest of people and soaked up the sun on a walk on the old walls. When we were trying to understand the meaning of a French sign saying no dogs (or no dogs on the loose), I walked up on the walls to see if I could see any other dogs up there. Lo and behold, the first dog I see is none other than a Brittany! So we spent the next hour working our way around the town and overlooking the bay.

The next day we drove back east to the town of Bayeux. We started our day with a tour of the tapestry. It’s quite a strange feeling to finally see the 1000 year old piece of cloth that you hear about in middle school and have the year 1066 drilled into your head. Sure, you may think you know what a 70 m long piece of embroidery looks like, but 70 m of hand stitching is quite the feat! The level of detail and the preservation of the colors are truly stunning.

After a wonderful French lunch, we were picked up and taken on a half day tour of the D-Day beaches. Getting in the van, we met another family going on the tour with us; they were from Chicago. Yes, my parents flew 10 hours across an ocean, drove another 7 hours, went under the English Channel and proceeded to get into a van with a family from the suburbs of Chicago.

Our first stop was Pointe du Hoc and the site of a battle of US Rangers trying to neutralize gun positions which could fire upon Utah and Omaha beaches. The interesting thing about Pointe du Hoc is that the French government left the area exactly as it was after the war as a reminder.

Craters at Pointe du Hoc

The point is riddled with the partially filled in craters of the bombing that took place as well as the partially destroyed bunkers. Even the barbed wire has been left. Next, we drove to the west side of Omaha beach (Dog Green), the same section of beach depicted in the film Saving Private Ryan and the deadliest landing point. The tranquility of the beach that day with the sun descending in the west made it hard to imagine the horror of that June morning only 65 years ago.

Leaving the beach we drove to the Normandy American Cemetery and Memorial where the majority of American WWII who died in Normandy are buried. With its finely manicured lawn and endless rows of white marble crosses, the cemetery serves as a reverent memorial to the US troops who fought in Normandy.

Our last stops on the tour were a view from the east side of Omaha beach where German trenches can still be seen in a French farm field and the gun battery, with another series of ruined bunkers complete with guns lying between Omaha and Gold beaches. We finished the day back in Bayeux with some more fantastic French cuisine. Thank you, France, for letting us bring Siena into your nice restaurants.

Our last two days in France were spent near Calais. As we drove from Normandy we stopped at the cathedral in Rouen and saw the site of the burning of Noah’s wife, Joan of Arc. We also met up with M&T’s family at the Christmas fair in the town of Bethune. Thanks for the wonderful lunch T!

We returned to England and again, my parents slept through the bulk of it. We took a slight detour and stopped to look at the cliffs around Dover before dropping them off back at Heathrow for their return to the US. We had a great time, learned some history, ate fabulous food, met some friends, and spent quality time together as a family.

To an exciting 2012!

In other news, we submitted the 3rd round of our adoption paperwork on 20 December 2011 which is about a year after we submitted the original set of paperwork.  We hope it is the last round and that our baby will come in 2012.  Happy new year to all!

Our flights to SFO were largely uneventful but it is getting harder to adjust to the time change, I must be getting old. We planned our holiday around all the food and restaurants we wanted to eat and visit and so we were met at the airport by D&D with garlic fries, Beard Papa cream puffs, and a trip to In-N-Out for some animal style burgers. It was a good start to the trip.

We stayed with S&G for a couple of nights while we adjusted to the time change and caught up with old friends P&S (at La Morenita, recommend the chips/salsa and the burrito supreme). The seven of us then went south to Cupertino for dinner at A&J (recommend the beef noodle soup and scallion pancakes). Somewhere in the day we reconnected with Stanford and saw all the new buildings including the small village that suddenly appeared. In the words of Ox, “Everything is different, but the same… things are more moderner than before… bigger, and yet smaller… it’s computers…”

Thursday was the day jet lag or the American diet hit me. I wasn’t feeling that well as I packed our things up from S&G’s and picked IAC up after her meetings at Stanford. I struggled on, there were calories to ingest and saturated fats to consume. From Stanford we drove north to San Francisco to chat with A about his job at a startup in the city. As we looked for metered parking I got a little nostalgic for the parking “chaos” of Aberystwyth. Things I learned from A: it is hard to share 1 male and 1 female bathroom among 60-80 employees, people actually own Segways, and NDAs have got a little out of hand.

Dinner that night was at Osha Thai (recommend the Thai ice tea that you can’t get in the UK) with my cousin and her family. We missed seeing them earlier in the Autumn in Toronto, so we are glad we caught up here. Things are well with the girls and the after dinner stroll brought us to the outdoor ice rink and Occupy San Francisco.

After saying goodbye we crossed the bridge to stay with our newly married friends F&C and their new dog P. On Friday I dropped IAC off at the conference but not before stopping at Great Harvest Bread Co. (recommend the oatmeal raisin and chocolate chip cookies) for some breakfast and snacks. Lunch turned into a late lunch/mid afternoon meal at La Note in Berkeley (IAC recommends the omelette) and a great opportunity to catch up with my old co-worker S. A also made the journey in from Davis just to see us too. Too bad a grant deadline kept her from sticking around longer. Also, my plans to say hi to people back at UCB were foiled by the Veteran’s Day holiday on campus.

IAC booked us into the National Holistic Institute for massages. My guy was fantastic and I felt so great afterward. From the bliss of a massage to the bliss of a happy tummy we, F&C and our friend from South Bay P, braved the rain for dinner at Burma Superstar (highly recommend the tea leaf salad and samosa soup). Watching the salad prep and tasting the first spoonful of the soup brought back many happy memories and made me tear up just a little.

Our last full day in the Bay Area found us back in the South Bay (thanks for the room P) and the morning was spent shopping. We raided Trader Joe’s (recommend the TJ’s red salsa), Ross for a new suitcase after I broke the handle on one of other ones the day before the trip, Safeway, and Costco. Ah, the American dream…buying 6 lbs. of Ghirardelli brownie mix.

For lunch we met back up with D&D for our last burrito at Pancho Villa (recommend any burrito) in San Mateo. It wasn’t the Mission one, but considering my last burritos were eaten in Oxford and Copenhagen, I am not going to complain.

Our last big event, one could even say grand finale, was getting IAC, me and 28 of our closest SF friends together for dinner at Little Sichuan (recommend anything with ma la in the name). We had a great time seeing everyone and catching up after being away for three years.

It was and seemed like a very short trip but we are grateful to still have so many friends who care about us and were willing to see us. To all of you, thank you.

By American and British standards, I am not fat.  I don’t fear swimming suits and usually shop in the petite section of stores.  By Chinese standards, I should have my own moons or at least an exclusive zip/postal code.  I have watched my weight slowly creep up through the years and fretted over it, as most women do.  But I’ve never actually done anything serious about it.  As everyone who reads this blog knows, Dan and I love food and cooking.  I was never willing to give up my food obsession for a chance to slim down.

Then on the 1st of August, I stepped on the scale and was shocked to see the numbers flash up at me: 150.  That was how much Dan weighed when we first met, and I never thought that I would be in Dan’s weight range given that I’m a full 10 inches shorter than him.  When I have calculated my BMI in the past, I’ve always been in the normal weight range, but now I was firmly in the overweight range and a few days later, I reached my heaviest at 154.  It was time to take charge.

The dieting industry is a $60 billion industry in the US.  Globally, it’s closer to $500 billion.  There are a lot of options out there, so how was I supposed to choose the right one?  Here were my rules for choosing a diet:

1. The diet had to be free because I’m too cheap to join a program
2. I wanted to see progress reasonably quickly
3. I had to be able to eat with Dan and other people socially
4. I did not want to give up all the foods I loved
5. It should not unnecessarily complicate my life nor be difficult to implement/follow

With those in mind, I started to look around for diets and read up on theories of nutrition.  One day, a brochure came through our door that was advertising the Harcombe Diet.  I didn’t know anything about it, and the program was pretty well-guarded online.  I went to the local library (see rule #1 above) and checked out the book that Zoe Harcombe published on this diet.  It laid out her ideas about what causes cravings and why we overeat.  Surprisingly, they were not psychological reasons but physiological reasons, which I liked but did not 100% believe, but the first phase was only 5 days long during which you should see fast weight loss.  What I liked about it was that it very clearly laid out what you could and couldn’t eat AND you could eat as much as you wanted.  For breakfast, I ate a lot of bacon and eggs and stopped drinking orange juice and eating toast.  I did that for a week, but it violated rule #3 and to an extent, rule #4.  However, I did see some weight loss within a short time frame (about 2 lbs in those 5 days), and I found that once I got rid of the unhealthy foods that I used to crave, I stopped craving them.  For that reason alone, I’m glad I tried this diet out.

I decided to try the Weight Watchers plan next.  There is actually a ton of information online so without joining or paying any money, I was able to figure out roughly what I needed to do.  I made a spreadsheet to keep track of my weight and my points intake (I used the old points system even though WW has moved onto PointsPlus and ProPoints).  I used their formula to calculate the points per meal and downloaded a couple of widgets for my Macbook.  If I could get the nutritional values from the packaging, I could calculate the points pretty easily.  If I was cooking or going out to eat, I estimated the points using other people’s lists or this recipe analyzer.  I quickly learned to avoid paninis, nuts, and vast quantities of cheese!  I was very conservative on the number of points to be aiming for every day.  Based on WW’s formula, I should be aiming for 21 with a weekly allowance of 35 (more if I do physical activity like play tennis or walk Siena).  I’m often closer to 18 or 19 although on average, I have 20 points a day.  I started this diet on August 15 and have now officially lost 14 pounds (or a stone) from when I first started the WW plan.  Things I like about this plan:

• I can eat whatever I want but I am learning to control how much of it I eat
• I can easily eat with Dan & friends and can now estimate points for meals in restaurants
• There is a lot of flexibility so I will let myself enjoy meals with friends on the weekends but be very strict during the week
• It’s essentially calorie counting but simplified into the points system
• Due to the popularity of this program, there are a lot of online resources for WW, from low-points recipes to websites telling you how many points are in chain restaurant meals
• WW sells low-points products in most supermarkets, and I have tried a few which are adequate for breakfasts/lunches
• It’s easy to do on my own without impinging on my time
• It’s actually kind of fun keeping track of the points and my weight loss

As many people will tell you, WW is mostly about portion control.  I realize now that I’m fine to eat just one serving of my or Dan’s delicious cooking, and I don’t need any more than that.  Because of the Harcombe diet, I now eat yogurt every morning for breakfast.  In the past, yogurt has made me gag (and it still occasionally does), but I found that Rachel’s Greek style honey yogurt is very palatable and particularly nice if you add fresh berries (o points).  The bonus is that Rachel’s is an Aberystwyth company, very conscious about organic and environmental issues, so I’m doing something for the local economy, the environment, and my body!  I stopped drinking juice and have eased up on the potato chips because they no longer taste good.  Now that I know the plan is working, I am very motivated to keep at it.  We’re heading back to the bay area in a few weeks, so I know we’ll be eating lots of yummy food then!  But I don’t have to stuff myself, and I can reward my progress by buying some new clothes that fit me!

P.S. If you’re wondering why a stone is 14 pounds, blame it on the silly imperial system!

Isn’t language awesome?

2011 has brought the quadrennial event of the Rugby World Cup. Now that the pool stages are done and the quarterfinals about to begin, I have become more uneasy by the lack of sportsmanship I perceive in the tournament both by the various players, teams, and the IRB. I will forgo discussing the various sportsmanship issues on both the player level (eye gouging) and team representative level (ball switching), there are always bad apples in every sport. Instead I will focus on the greater issue of team sportsmanship and the failure of the IRB to promote an opportunity for all nations to compete equally.

The World Cup (soccer/football) has groups of four. Each pair of teams in each group either will play simultaneously or consecutively with no precedence in the order of the play. The RWC has five teams in each of the four groups meaning that one of the teams in the group has a “bye” during the round robin group phase. This in itself leads to one team sometimes having played one more game than their opponent. In a full contact game like rugby, this can lead to an advantage by 1) advance scouting, 2) less likelihood of injured players, and 3) a team being generally “fresher” than an opponent. I will not quibble about an extra 12 or 24 hours, but, for example, New Zealand this year had 7, 8, and 8 days between matches. Samoa, on the other hand, had 4, 7, and 5 days between matches, and the USA had to play twice on three days rest. This unbalanced schedule did not go unnoticed.

The IRB and RWC2011 intentionally scheduled the “better” teams with more breaks between matches. This approach contributes to a self-fulfilling prophecy of the self anointed best teams advancing to the next round. No, I don’t think a balanced schedule would have propelled my Eagles to a quarterfinal berth, but if the bias is built into the schedule how can you say that the tournament is designed fairly? No one is complaining about the seeding system, just that once the field is set, equality should ensure a legitimate winner. Perhaps RWC2015 could learn from some of the suggestions floating around the internet (like here, here, and here).

Unlike every other sport I have followed, the RWC does not reward points for simply winning (or drawing), rather, the nature of the win or loss and determine the outcome. In the RWC you can get a bonus point for either scoring four or more tries or a bonus point for losing by seven points or less. While I can understand wanting to reward teams for losing “close” and, perhaps, adding excitement to the end of a match as one or both teams try for a bonus point, the concept of bonus points does not sit well with me. Why do we play the game? To win the game. Head to head competitions, played in variable conditions and in various venues, allows too much chance to determine bonus points. A game in heavy fog, pouring rain, freezing cold, all affect the final scores of the game, usually offensively more than defensively. A win is a win, a loss is a loss, why the need for bonus points? (Aside: NHL, don’t think I am not on to you either!)

While my first two criticisms have been directed at the format and structure of the RWC, the last two things I want to bring up relate to team behavior. Both comments relate to things I have seen by multiple teams so I am not trying to signal anyone out. First, if you accept the bonus point system then I can understand a team well on its way to victory to continue pursuing its fourth try of the game. What I don’t understand without the tag of poor sportsmanship being applied is the continued drive to score after both the bonus point is assured and time has expired (see New Zealand v. Japan, and Wales v. Fiji). The game is won, no need to humiliate your opponent further nor risk injury to your team. Apparently I am not the only one who has encountered this.

Finally, I am going to wade into a highly charged debate over the haka. I will not, however, go into the political correctness of whether or not the haka is offensive to Maori (or equivalent dance/chants of the other South Pacific island nations). I will address the use of the haka in light of sportsmanship. For those unfamiliar with the haka, it is a rhythmic dance/chant performed by the New Zealand rugby team just before kickoff. It typically involves both teams lined up facing each other with the All Blacks performing the dance in front of the opposing team. According to the all-knowing wikipedia, it has been a part of the All Blacks rugby team since 1906.

Many sports teams have a moment before games where they huddle/dance/chant/sing, but these are typically done either in the locker room before coming on to the field or in a team circle without regard to the other team. Also, I can understand/appreciate the singing of anthems or traditional team entrances put on by the home team. These are all “pre-game” and are generally reserved for home fields. They don’t apply to visiting teams nor national teams at international competitions (NZ performs a haka at both international competitions and as a visiting team), with the obvious exception of the national anthems. Furthermore, there should be no pump up measures directly toward the other team.

I would go as far to say that should the haka be performed by the players toward the audience to get them fired up, I would have no problem with that. But sanctioning the haka and forcing the other team to just stand there is a bit too far. If the haka is allowed to go on, the other team should be allowed to ignore it, stare it down, turn their backs, do their own dance in return. The Australian women’s team was even fined for moving too close to the haka once. To add insult to injury, Kiwis have felt disrespected if their opponents would rather not be disrespected themselves. And I didn’t even touch on the throat slitting.

As the RWC heads to the knockout rounds, I will watch the games but I will feel a little less engaged and may cheer a little less than I would have only a few weeks ago. I would like to players to respect the game and each other a little bit more. Who knows? It may allow the game to grow.

Beautiful weather ahead!

Even though several exciting things are just starting again (new office building! new crop of students!), several things are ending, such as the time here of many of our friends.  In the last month, we’ve had to say goodbye to T, E, N, and N.  We will miss you!  There are a few more goodbyes that we will have to say in the next few months, but I’m trying not to think of those at the moment!

Rijsttafel at Sama Sebo

Leaving dinner we made our way back to the old town and did the tourist walk through the red light district. We joined stag parties, elderly tourists, high 20-somethings, and everything in between in our journey along the canals passing red neon and black light lit windows and sex shops. After all the build up of the red light district, I have to admit that I was a little underwhelmed by the whole experience. Let me clarify, I didn’t get the whole experience, just the whole of the experience I had. I mean, nothing happened. I am a good boy. I mean…

The next day we ate Dutch pancakes and bought I Amsterdam cards which allows free transport around the city, a canal cruise, and entrance into many of the city’s museums. The first stop was the under renovation Rijksmuseum. Unfortunately most of the building was closed off because of renovations, but they did have the “Masterpieces” on show. We got to see Dutch art during the rise and fall of their empire as well as some wonderful Rembrandt’s like the Night Watch.

From the museum we took our cards for a canal cruise on Holland International‘s boats. The cruise was a nice way to see different parts of the old city, but the audio recording didn’t allow for much of a personal cruise. The fact that each notable place had to be described in many languages left the tour a little uneven. Our Copenhagen tour was a little better feel. Nonetheless, it helped orient us in the city. After the boat ride, we sat down for some more traditional Dutch cuisine, stamppot. The huge mounds of potato/endives on my plate left me with a full stomach.

On Friday nights, the Van Gogh museum is open late and there are cultural (music, drama, readings) events throughout the museum. IAC had been to this museum back in 1996 and claims it to be one of her most favorite museums in the world. We took in every painting and special exhibit there. The museum, changed from 1996, was laid out well and really showed Van Gogh’s progression from his early Dutch influence, through his Parisian years and Impressionist influences, until his final years in the south of France.

With still a few hours left on our 24 hour I Amsterdam cards, we decided to check out the Nieuwe and Oude Kerks when they opened. With strong backlashes against the Catholic church in Holland’s history, both churches were very plain compared to the churches and cathedrals of the rest of Europe. We were unprepared for the Nieuwe Kerk to be used as an art gallery/location. We walked into the church and it had wedding gown displays throughout the otherwise bare interior. While not my kind of art, the piece(s) did challenge me as the church itself became part of the installation.

The Oude Kerk was even more run down but had remnants of its former glory in the partial paintings that could still be seen on the ceilings and the carvings in some of the seats. To get out of the rain we did two quick trips to the Amsterdam City Historical Museum and the Houseboat Museum. Both were worth it when we didn’t have to pay and we could just spend a little bit of time at each one. The thing that surprised me most about the Houseboat Museum was the rocking feeling I felt. I thought that no tides and being a canal there wouldn’t be so many waves. Not a place for IAC to live!

The rest of the day was spent touring the classic street market, Cuypmarkt, where IAC got a herring sandwich (more Dutch food!) and I had some french fries with mad American sauce. Not the best street market in the world, but fun to pass all the cheese and meat vendors. Next we headed back over to Museumplein to take part in the Uitmarkt, an outdoor festival that helps promote the coming year’s cultural events.

We were fortunate to get into the Little Hall of the Concertgebouw to see Cello8ctet, a group of eight cellists. They were fantastic. It’s a shame the concert only lasted about 35 minutes. With luck still shining down on us, on our way out we were offered a pair of tickets for the evening’s main show featuring Bruch’s Violin Concerto.  A very generous stranger gave us an unforgettable experience.  The concert hall acoustics were amazing and the soloist was great.

Me in traditional Dutch clothing

Our final day was spent doing some last minute shopping at the floating flower market for souvenirs (including tulips!) and returning to the Uitmarkt. Standing with hundreds of other Amsterdammers we joined in on their musical sing-a-long. It started off well singing Do Re Mi but we quickly found ourselves over our heads with Als de zon schijnt and Djobi Djoba from the Zorro musical. Those links take you to the actual Uitmarkt performance we saw. We saw both the practice one in the afternoon and the “real” one later that night when we came back. Let’s just say my Dutch singing deserved a klap op de kont.

Our time in Amsterdam was well spent. We had a great time exploring a new European city together and enjoyed a great anniversary together. Amsterdam has a unique feel to it that makes it special in its own way. While I could have done with a little less smoke in the air, I was fascinated to see the clash of the modern liberalism in the heart of an old empire capital.

I know that sounds very strange, and I should say that I am not a complete weirdo.  At one donation, I asked a nurse if she ever met anyone who enjoyed doing it.  Her lips tightened, and she went on to tell me a story of when she encountered a disturbed man who went to several hospitals in a day to give blood because he experienced sexual arousal from the procedure.  That is not why I like donating blood.  I have  always been fascinated by medical procedures (Dan always thinks I pause way too long on the TV channel that shows surgeries in progress; what he doesn’t know is that I would watch it exclusively if he weren’t around), and luckily, I never developed a fear of needles because my parents did not overreact when doctors approached me with one.  My morbid fascination with blood donation is on par with my inability to tear my eyes off the hairdresser when he/she cuts my hair: what are they doing to my body? that is so cool!

It therefore saddens me that according to most US blood donation centers, I am ineligible to donate blood.  The exact screening questions vary.  Some places defer you if you have lived in the UK between 1980 and 1996.  Other places shun your blood if you had a blood transfusion in the UK.  Living anywhere in Europe for more than 3 years will get your blood rejected from some centers.

I enjoy giving blood because 1) I get to watch an interesting procedure being done on my body, 2) I get the satisfaction of possibly saving someone’s life or at least help an ill stranger, and 3) the blood regenerates itself quickly, so besides my time (about an hour each donation although the actual draw is under 10 minutes), I don’t really lose out on anything.  As far as volunteering gigs go, this one is pretty easy.  For a while, I gave every 8 weeks (the minimum time between donations) like clockwork because the local center needed the blood (less than 5% of the population donate although 39% are eligible).  I wasn’t able to participate in my high school‘s blood drive because I wasn’t 18.  For the many pints of blood that I donated at the Stanford Blood Center, I received a cool key chain in appreciation.  There are also yummy treats at the end of every visit!

It isn’t always a smooth experience.  A long time ago, a nurse told me that I had deep veins in my arms.  I now dutifully warn the technician before the procedure “Just so you know, my veins can be tricky to find.”  This helps some people but for others, it makes them more nervous and they take even longer to get it right.  During my internship at P&G, I went to a blood drive in the middle of the workday.  The pint bag got to about halfway, and then that particular vein decided to take a nap and stopped pumping blood.  If they go past half a pint, they just have to call it quits.  Since I was just under half a pint, they stuck my other arm and took a whole pint from that side.  Down 1.5 out of the usual 10 pints of blood in my body, I spent the rest of the workday in a giggly, drunk-like stupor (I assume it was drunk-like since I was only 19 at the time. Hi Mom! Hi Dad!).

Another time in front of Dan’s college dorm, I gave blood in the Bloodmobile which is very different from the Batmobile.  After finishing, I went on my way to class and soon sprung a leak.  Far from being alarmed, I found the whole thing a bit cartoonish as blood began squirting out of my bandages.  I went back to the Bloodmobile and was amused by how the nurses put everything into lockdown mode to attend to me.  Luckily, no permanent damage occurred.

Because I have low iron count, I sometimes get deferred.  Some people have irrational fears or phobias; the one of needles is trypanophobia and the one of blood is hemophobia.  I have irrational stubbornness, especially about my deficiencies.  The week before a blood donation, I inhale cream of wheat, even though I think it’s disgusting, just to get my iron count high enough.  I refuse to let my genetics get in the way of my activities.  I am also irrationally stubborn about not donating blood here even though donating in the UK has no bearing on my ability to donate elsewhere.

I am sad that I won’t be able to participate in this process if/when I return.  The rules and regulations may change so there is a small chance that I still might be able to donate blood in the US.  But for now, goodbye to blood donations.

I am also saying goodbye to Facebook.  It was only after seeing The Social Network that I realized that I was among the earlier waves of people to join since I had an @stanford.edu address.  There are lots of reasons to stay on, but there are quite a few compelling reasons to log off, so I’ll be logging off permanently.  Keep up with us on Google+ (let me know if you need an invite) and add this blog to your RSS feed reader of your choice! (New share and subscribe features are now available on the right)

Despite it being August, it is also time to say goodbye to summer.  For the last few weeks, it has been really chilly here (about 14 C/57 F) and tomorrow, it will be about 10 C/50 F.  I’ve pulled out the duvet, soup/stew recipes, and boots.  Fall is arriving early.

Instead of keeping warm under my natural hat, I’ll be hacking off my hair in a few short days.  Since my haircut last July in Toronto I have been growing out my hair in order to donate it to charity.  I’m now at 10 inches and utterly sick of the heavy hair weighing down my neck.  I can’t wait to chop it off again in Toronto next week!  Goodbye hair!  Are there any other parts of my body that I can donate?  Last month’s riveting book club book, Stiff, has given me many more options!

We have to say a very sad goodbye to Dan’s second cousin, P.  Over the weekend, he passed away which was a great shock to us.  We just saw him in NOLA in April and have seen him every few years at family functions.  He was a kind, generous man with a gentle manner about him.  He was a reverend, and we wanted him to perform our wedding ceremony.  The only reason we did not was because he and his wife, L, did not know until the last minute whether or not they could come.  In the end, they did, and having P and L at our wedding was an honor for both of us.  On this eve of our 9th wedding anniversary, we say goodbye to him and are grateful to have known him and have him as part of our family.

L, P, and Dan in April