Duties and Doodies

Babies poop.

It's a thing.

Also, when does talking about your child's bodily functions stop being an acceptable people to discuss in public places?

Some would argue, "ALWAYS! No one NO ONE wants to know about that!"
Others, not so much.

The other week in a staff meeting, we talked about all the different things that are acceptable to comment on and discuss about babies that is ABSOLUTELY NOT ACCEPTABLE to comment on and discuss later in their little lives.

Things such as, but not limited to: bodily functions, weight fluctuation, everything related to nursing ("latching"), chubby thighs, etc.

Personally, I think all babies look like trolls.
They can be absolutely adorable trolls that I will love unconditionally (i.e. each and every one of my nieces and nephews), but trolls nonetheless. Just for a few months until they start to grow into their person.

Yesterday, I traveled on over to the ole O-K-L-A-HOMA to attend the baptism of my cousin Kristina's daughter.
Krissy and I, much like our mothers, are near exact replicas of one another, give or take a few years. She's my family go-to, my saving grace at holidays get-togethers, and an endless source of sass and side comments.

She is 10 years older than me and had her first child, Fiona Marie, just a couple months ago.
We're all pretty floored about it. Jeff (her husband) and Kristina are absolutely adorable with one another and that, matched with our thankfulness and wonder at them finding one another to begin with, makes Fiona one very special little human.

Jury is still out on who her name is dedicated to (Daisy Marie-->Joyce Marie-->Kristina Marie-->Fiona Marie), but it's safe to say all three of her predecessors love her pretty fiercely.

And now, after a question and a yes, that little bundle of love is my goddaughter.
I'm so honored to get to be Fiona's "person".
Don't worry, kid. I've got your back. (and your neck, just until you gain a little muscle mass)

One Last Day, But It's Not the Same

It's different, very different.
And I love that when I will get to say, "Last December in Belfast" it will not be followed with tears. It will be followed with joy.

David (you absolutely remember David, my sweet, wonderful houseman and groundskeeper)  had stopped by the house twice yesterday to see me, but I'd been away at uni all day.

8am it was! And my reserved, British friend kissed me right on the face. Ha!

I hate that the picture is blurry, but I do enjoy having him in photo form. David will never know or be able to understand the depth to which his practical mercy on me touched my life.
Like the time I came in to see a tulip on the counter and, when I thanked him on my way out the door (he was in the garden), he told me, "Musta been a nail or somethin' break it. Found it on the ground. Thought you could talk to it."

Or the time just after the team left, my boyfriend left, and my nephew entered the world (it was a big three days) and I was alone and sad, he came and found me and asked if I would like to put up the Christmas decorations. David does not ask anyone to do anything. He does things. You would understand if you knew David, but that was his way of taking care of, giving me something to do, something to feel a part of. David is a very good man.

Another very good man collected me for tea just after--Hadden. :)
He was my boss over in Belfast, coordinating JBU activities there. We talked over programme information and life stuff.
Getting back into his car after dropping me off (not even facing me), he said, "Let that young man of yours know that if he doesn't treat you right...I'll kill him". Then drove off.
And he's from Belfast, so you know he ain't lyin'.

Next came Amy and Matt.
We hung out at Lakeside, went to city centre, went out for lunch at a fun little pub, shopped a bit, roamed the Christmas market, took the party back home again, watched Everything is Illuminated, and just had a really good time.

When Amy left, Lauren appeared. :)

Last cuddles all around.

Home is a place you fight for. Home is a place that knows you, that you feel known in. Home is a place you feel wanted and loved. When I left for Oklahoma last December, Belfast was not my home. What a blessing, what a treasure, that it was when I stepped off the plane just one year later.

Lakeside, Belfast, my friends (and a lot of Starbucks goers) saw my soul stripped naked, saw me broken, and saw the Lord rise me up again.
And for that, for seeing, for staying, for speaking out truth, they became my home.

When It Rains, It Rains

When I woke up this morning, it was a beautiful, clear day.

Because I know my city, though, I packed an umbrella. 

And lucky I did, because the rest of the day poured, and it was beautiful and cold and sideways, just as I remember it. 

Started off the morning with coffee. 

Starbucks with my smallgroup leaders, Heather&Johnny and Heather's sister Lorna. 

Good conversation, a good catchup, and they gave me the sweetest ornament. :) 

Then it was time to begin the day's graduation activities. 

First came the pre-reception, where we snacked on mince meat pies (not actual meat. It's actually a very confusing taste bud experience, like when you drink sprite expecting water. Except here it's cinnamon-y fruit instead of meat) and cute little cups of wine. 

We sipped, supped, and met one another's families (more on that later). Mostly we all stood around trying to pin on our hoods. It was as confusing as the mincemeat. Is it meant to fold on the sides? how high? Matched with the open-front capes, there was just a whole, weird choking experience. But finally, we were mostly pinned and ready to head out. 

We found our seating assignment in the beautiful Sir William Whitla Hall (also was the location of my very first international student orientation meeting and introduction to Queen's) and parked it, an organist playing very dignified tunes while I, in my very American way, took pictures. 

Then, the ceremony began. 

It started with a video of the decorated faculty walking from the main hall into the Whitla hall...in the pouring rain...totally unphased. 

The British take pomp and circumstance to a whole new level, as speeches and bowing and capes and furred capes passed by me, waiting not patiently at all in my chair. 

Then, we were up! 

And they almost said my name right! It was a big step for them. Jehmee forever. The "Ruth" was dead on, though. 

Following the ceremony was the post-ceremony reception. They do not mess around with their receptions, I tell ya. Tea and sweets for all. Yummmmmmm. 

Everyone clustering to take pictures with their families. So.....I stole some old people. 

and I took a selfie with Eamonn: 

And a group shot that made its way into the Irish News: 

And one that didn't make it in. I love how delighted Eamonn looks: 

Some with Sonya (my Easter break travelling buddy): 

And lots with the beffer: 

Amy also made sure I was well looked-after and adopted. I spent the evening with her family--both at their home and to the delicious Barking Dog Eatery--before heading home around 11. 

It's the end of my Belfast chapter on Queen's, but we're not nearly halfway through with the book. 

There are years and pages to come, I'm sure. 

My Jet Lag a Leettle

Confession: I may or may not go to sleep at 8:30ish back home. Sometimes later. But 8:30 is preferable.

So, when I went to bed at 2:30am here, my body thought it was very normal.

I felt an alarm wasn't necessary to get em up and at em for my 11:30am coffee with some mates.
However, when Matt woke me up at 1pm to make sure I was still going to the movie, I was obviously proved wrong. Yikes. Won't be doing that again.

Made it only a half hour late to our film at the Queen's Film Theatre (second to last item on my Belfast Bucket List).

"Good Vibrations" only cost us 13p each, which was awesome, and the film was so so good.
A punk rock "godfather" from Belfast during the Troubles era. AND the screenplay was written by one of my favorite NI authors, Glenn Patterson, who wrote Number 5. Love him,

Then Boojum and books with Matt (and a tour of the library) then a very long, very wet wait for the bus (the visit wouldn't be the same without it).

Belfast: Where Umbrellas go to die

Lauren greeted me at Lakeside and whisked me away to pick up Kiera and have a girls' night.
The Christmas market for yummy dutch pancakes and nutella then off we went to dinner.
Then, to finish up my BBL, we went and saw the Big Fish (also the title of one of my favorite movies, I will add).

The frozen rain tried to immobilize us, and we may have gotten a wee bit lost on the way, but we found it! And danced and laughed and howled into the night before heading home and chatting till midnight.

a glowing "doll on the ball", the much mocked symbol of peace, placed between the two once very divided parts of the city

the beffers

umbrella: conquered 

We've also decided to make a covenant to see each other once at least once a decade.

Another good, long, wet day had. :) I love loving here.

My Jet Don't Lag

The planes over?
Best ever.

From Tulsa to Chicago it was clear skies and sunshine.
Arrived in the dark windy city 30 minutes early actually.

A short 4 hour layover then it was off to Dublin. Had a whole row to myself on the largest aircraft I've ever been on.
Arrived in the dark windy city a full hour early.

Got through passport security with ease and walked straight up to my bag. The whole thing took 5 minutes start to finish. Unreal.

Then:

She drove all the way from Belfast to lift me, wee pet, on almost no sleep. Gem, that girl is.

When we got into Belfast, we had a super search for parking, then got lunch/killed time before 2

At the cafe, though, I heard my name screamed and Lauren appeared out of nowhere. YES!

Ames and I turned in the hard copy of my thesis (hallelujah chorus) then picked up our regalia (hallelujah chorus) and graduation tickets (which I will give to two strangers and ask them to pose as family).

Then home to the "new me" and old friend at Lakeside (where Matt and I had to break back into because he had accidentally locked himself out. oops)

I had brought him Christmas from his family in Texas, so we opened his presents and chatted until my church mate Megan got here.

 

She took us for ice cream which turned into bonding all together until 2:30am.
Very long first day. Very best first day.

Back to the Island

In three and a half hours, I'm hopping on a plane and heading to Northern Ireland.

Tuesday through Saturday morning, I get to battle jet lag whilst spending time with some of my favorite people.

It's a melt that Naomi has up and moved to Spain and Lynsey is on placement in Paris, but all the rest of my best friends and colleagues are in the planner.

I'm so excited I can hardly sit still--early apologies to my aisle mates on the plane--

Graduation itself is at 2:30pm on Thursday; that's 8:30am for my folks back home in the south.

And, Queen's does this very wonderful livestream, so friends and family who want to tune in for some hoods and beautiful accents can do so here when the time comes. Heresay claims that there's curtsying involved. I truly hope that isn't so.

It is a strange and wonderful feeling to be thrilled at the prospect of returning to Belfast.

The first time I went, in the summer of 2012, I was too unsure of what I had gotten myself into to be properly excited.
The second time, I was too in love and saddened by separation to fully appreciate my move.
The third time, I was determined that it would be a better experience than the second, but that isn't the same as elation.

Now, with a stable mind and body and heart, with friends like family waiting for me at baggage claim (literally), I am overwhelmed with thankfulness and joy.

I'm going home. :)

Courtesy of Lauren Esler. :)

How I Casse-Roll

Thanksgiving food reminds me of Belfast.

Historically, Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday.
The morning is spent watching the Macy's day parade (this year with cuddles from two of my nieces and nephews), then time to clean up before family members start to appear.

My auntie Joyce gets there first.
Every year, that evokes, "Oh gosh, they're here already?!" from my mama Jansie.

Then, as she panics and I kind of putz about the house, everyone else shows up.

Trout, veggies, and other random hors d'oeuvres are consumed and then my family crams themselves around the dining room table (at their assigned seat).

At this point, we grab hands, sing "Father, We Thank Thee" and then my father tries to pray. Tries, because he always ends up choked up, which is very precious.
It doesn't matter if Daddy prays of if one of the boys prays, the Odom men cry when they pray. I like that.

Then we sit and enjoy one another and eat all the random, delicious dishes that we have all contributed. "Oh my gosh! This ______ casserole is so scrumptious! Who made this?!"

And then the rest of the day kind of twiddles about, but all in all, the entire thing is all the fun of Christmas without the presents, which I love.

Why then, with all these warm and bright memories, would Belfast the Cold be my mental trigger?

Last year, right before the fall semester team left, we had a Thanksgiving feast.

There were enough leftovers to make up an entire feast. Like, whole casseroles.



Then they left me.

The woman I lived with was passionate about not having leftovers. Passionate to the point of...extremism. Like, digging thrown-out food out of the trashcans.
She had good intentions.
However, she also experienced a lot of allergy-type reactions to most foods.

Thus, it was up to me to eat everything the team left. It was character building and waistline widening both.

I'm sure you remember post after post after post of things I baked with my 11 pounds of apples (just one example of my mass food eateries). I also had to eat Thanksgiving.

Meal after meal.

It was exciting the first week.

But, like all casseroles, it's day 9 that things start getting rough.

After that, I had to make meal baggies, a heft spoonful of each dish into a ziplock.

Then I'd pull one out, rip off the bag, and microwave it.

Rough times, friends.
Good thing I really like Thanksgiving food.

When I came back from my sojourn to Oklahoma, though, guess what had been thrown out of the freezer.
I can't even remember if I was more sad or more amused by the irony.