I’m not still writing about Scotland, am I? Have three days in a country ever been stretched into so many blog posts? Hemingway rambled less about Spain, I’m sure.

I hope you aren’t getting bored. Because Scotland really is a magical land. Even though my husband had to remind me repeatedly that Leprechauns are not, in fact, from Scotland, it’s still a fairly amazing place. But I’ve been blathering on about it for quite a while now, so consider this my last Scotland post. Really, I promise. My blog is currently three trips behind my travel schedule, so I really will make good on this.

Besides, what better way to close on Scotland than to tell you about William Wallace?

The Scots go ape-shit over Wallace, and it’s easy to see why: both a hero and a hottie, he reminds us of a simpler time when Mel Gibson wasn’t just some crazy anti-Semitic douche, but a dude with talent and a killer smile. Wallace Monument, erected in 1869 (tee-hee!), was built to honor him, and to torment visitors who already aren’t feeling top-notch. Read the rest of this entry »

I can’t take his money … I can’t print my own money … I have to work for money … Why don’t I just lay down and die? — Homer Simpson, The Simpsons
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How in god’s name is it March already?

On that same note, how is it already 2010? I know I say this every week, but still, it’s true. Time is passing just too quickly – I’m sure if the earth were spinning at a normal rate, I would still be in high school … Though perhaps I should thank my lucky stars that sort of thing is far, far behind me, because it sounds like kids today are having a hell of a time. Behold:

Even princesses get the blues. Apparently Princess Aiko, the granddaughter of Japan’s emperor, is getting bullied in school. Just for the record, if princesses are having a hard time of it, the rest of us are screwed. Read the rest of this entry »

We asked some locals where we should head if we wanted a day trip out of Glasgow. We had heard that Loch Lomond was lovely (and the eponymous song kept playing in my head) but unfortunately the ferries that run along it’s bonny bonny banks wouldn’t begin operating until springtime. So we decided to go to Stirling Castle, which several people recommended (though they admitted it wasn’t as nice as Edinburgh Castle – but it was much, much closer, and visitable in a day).

We took the train there, which cost the equivalent of $12 (U.S.) each, and walked through the town and up the hill to Stirling Castle.

It really is lush and green - but the cloudiness doesn't really reflect that.

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“… I think it’s repellant in every way. In fact, I think most Scottish cuisine is based on a dare.” – Mike Myers, So I Married An Axe Murderer
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I didn’t find haggis repellant: just for the record. It tastes like all other offal, like liver or kidneys, which I rather enjoy, even though my aunt describes them as “tasting of urine.” (Note: never tell her you love something she hates, because she will try to destroy it in your heart. She doesn’t mean to be evil … she just is.) Trube told, the hubby and I rather liked haggis. I wouldn’t eat it everyday, nor do I think it would make good hangover food. But as a bite here and there? Pretty fantastic.

All in all, Scottish food has a fairly bad reputation (especially stateside. Tell me the last time you visited a Scottish restaurant), but there are definitely some culinary bright spots during our trip to Glasgow. Read the rest of this entry »

Hold on ... this seems like a good time to hit on the groom.

I’ve loads to tell you. I have a few more posts about Scotland I need to get out of my system, a couple on San Diego, and at least a half dozen on New Orleans (which might be one of my new favorite cities). Right now the trips are racking up faster than I can blog about them – and I’m well aware I shouldn’t complain. Blah, blah, blah, boo-hoo for me because my life is awesome.

But keep one thing in mind: I am a neurotic spazz. Several weeks ago, I had the sort of exchange with one of Rand’s colleagues that make you want to crawl into a cave, and never, ever come back. It was entirely unintentional, but without meaning to, I inadvertantly might have said that I presumed the guy didn’t wear the same size underwear as Rand, because he was clearly bigger than him.

I could explain more about the circumstances and the context, but really, I doubt it would make things better. I’m basing this on the fact that when I tried explaining myself in the moment, after having seen Rand et al’s faces, things only got worse. Read the rest of this entry »

Actual times may vary.

We woke up this morning, smack dab in the middle of our two months of mad travel, under the distinct impression that we were, for the first time ever, going to miss our flight.

Now, several hours later, we’re eating breakfast with my family, and I am doing my best not to ridicule my husband. Because, as my dear friend Lauren says about her boyfriend, “Well, at least he’s pretty to look at.”

We flew in from New Orleans last night, landing in San Diego to spend one last evening with my family before heading home (on a side note, I saw my brother for all of an hour before he pissed me off to the point where I stormed upstairs. But more on that later).  Before going to sleep (at midnight, which felt like 2 am on account of the time change between Louisiana and California) I asked Rand if he had set an alarm.

“Umm-hmm …” he said.

For future reference, answers given by your spouse when he or she is severely sleep deprived and laying in bed probably cannot be held up in court. Read the rest of this entry »

I don’t know what’s worse: that I can’t comprehend that it’s the end of February already, that I was recently confused and thought Christmas was right around the corner, or that I started writing the date at the top of this post as February 26, 199 …

Actually, it’s probably that last one. Being confused about the time, the day, the month, and the year seem to be the by-product of all the travel we’ve been up to. I’m still writing up our Scotland and England trip, even though we’re now in San Diego, and tomorrow we’ll be off to New Orleans. It’s been a crazy few weeks for us.

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On the same day that I caught the bus tour and saw Kelvingrove Museum, I also stopped off at Glasgow University to see the Hunterian Art Gallery and the Mackintosh House.

Because, clearly, I don’t know how to pace myself. I generally find it to be a bad idea to hit more than two museums in a day, especially if they’re big ones (fortunately the Hunterian was pretty small). I remember once Pinguina and I decided to the Uffizi and one other museum in the same day (which I barely remember, because I slept through it – maybe The Accademia?) and it was a bad, bad idea.

Consequently, you will have to forgive me if my coverage of the Hunterian Art Gallery and the Mackintosh house is spotty at best.

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If you are fortunate enough to catch the Glasgow City Bus tour without too much damage done to your person or your psyche, I strongly suggest hopping off at stop #16 for the Kelvingrove Art Museum. It’s fantabulous. And absolutely gorgeous.

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