The train station is where?


The train station is where?
Originally uploaded by Nancy Dunne

I know it isn’t Wednesday yet, but today is turning out to be a very peculiar Tuesday and I will most likely be occupied for the next few days with pre-vacation cleaning, laundry, and list making. Thought it best I go on and update you today.

The picture there is from Sunday’s “short” walk down the canal from Saltaire to Bingley, and is the capture of the moment in time when I lost the will to live. Unlike Shipley and Saltaire, the train station in Bingley isn’t right next to the canal, so it took us a bit of work to find it. Those that know Daisy will recognize that look on her face as that of a greyhound that has quit for the day. The walk was just lovely, and if you click on that photo you can see more of the ba-zillion pictures I took of tree roots, canal water, and other greenery.

Since last we spoke, Lettuce readers, we’ve heard officially from the CDC in Atlanta that Simon’s plans to take H and J’s ashes to be buried with my childhood dog Buffy (and my dad’s childhood dog) in Cleveland are a go. Our vet here contacted “the Ministry” and got us covered on this side of the journey, so there shouldn’t be any unpleasant surprises as far as that goes next week. Simon wants to take them back to the US, and I’m hoping that will bring him some closure. Daddy has agreed to go with him, which I think will be a good bonding experience for them as well.

Today’s mail brought me a VERY special letter from my uncle in America. He hand wrote it, and while it basically just tells me what’s going on in his part of the world, it is a precious reminder to me of my family and what is always waiting for me back home.

My first three months in the UK have been horrible and wonderful and exhausting and boring and just incredible. It’s change. And change is good…and there are more changes to come to come…and I’m ready.

“You’re right, things are gonna be different. But different doesn’t always mean bad. It just means different.” -Scrubs

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