Ashley's Arabian Adventure

I thought I had it this year. I mean last year was my first Christmas without the family and all, so this year I should be a pro at it. Aaaand my wonderful friend Anna is here sacrificing her Christmas with her family to spend it with me. That means I shouldn't be having a pity party, right? I suck at this.

We have known each other for many years, but there has never been any attraction. Actually I have been quite avoidant all this time. However my interest was peaked this summer. We spent a lot of time around each other and it was rather unavoidable. As I considered it, I thought it might actually work. It couldn't possibly be as bad as I thought at least. I gave in little by little and by the end of the summer I was all about it. As I returned to the UK my interest didn't falter, but grew stronger and stronger. This week I realised that it is official; I am head over heels. It kind snuck up on me, really. Who knew I could like coffee this much? I may need to switch to decaf though.

I have recently discovered that being in my line of work and living in a cool place like England makes for many trips to the airport. And when there is a great coffee shop with a great view of the international arrivals area, who can complain? Well last night I went to go pick up a friend from Madrid and her flight ran a little late. That was fine because we still had an hour until the last train back. Well, she had some problems coming through passport controls and we ended up on the last train home. This would have been fine except the train wasn't making the usual announcements about where it was stopping and such. I didn't realise this until the train was leaving my stop. Yikes! So we got off at the next stop and discovered that there wasn't another train going the other way and stopping at my stop. We debated on going back to the airport and taking a taxi from there since it was much closer than where we were, but that train wasn't leaving for 40 minutes and is was almost 1am anyway. In the end we decided to just take a taxi from there and about $60 and over half an hour later we made it home. I am pretty sure the guy took the long way, but oh well. I was just thankful that the first time I ended up stuck I wasn't alone! The sidewalks pretty much roll up at about 6:00 here, so 1:00 in the morning would be a bit scary alone, I think.

British boys like to cry. Actually most European men seem to be a bit too in touch with their feminine side. They wear manpris and skinny jeans. As it turns out, English guys aren't very good looking either. I must have forgotten how good-looking American men are. I first noticed this several months ago with that English guy I went on a couple of dates with. I actually met him the day after I moved here. The first time I saw him, I did not think he was cute at all. Several months later, when we started hanging out, I noticed that he was actually good looking. Or so I thought. When I was in America for a week I caught myself checking out just about every guy I saw. I kept thinking that there was an unusal abundance of hotness in my vicinity. It turns out, I realised, that I just wasn't used to seeing manly, hot guys.

As The X Factor was sending Diana home, Eoghan starts bawling. Yeah, he's going to feel pretty retarded when he sees that later. A friend of mine, after seeing this display of emotion, was telling her daughter to date guys who sweat and not guys who cry. This can be a difficult task when living in any European country, I believe. But as I thought about that statement I realised that it pretty summed it up for me. He has to love Jesus and he has to get sweaty. And I guess the only other important thing is that he has to be hilarious. So I guess I want a funny, sweaty man of God.

After writing this I realised that it may not quite be appropriate to post since I gave this blog address out to everyone, including little old ladies from my church. But I am just going to acknowledge the awkwardness and post it anyway. That's how I roll.

I just got back from the states this morning and though I really enjoyed my trip, I am so glad to be home. I guess the best cure for homesickness is an overdose of home. I think I am good for a while. It's funny how that works, isn't it?

The trip was really, really good though. I got to see most of my friends and I got to eat Taco Bell a few times. And of course I made a massive Walmart run. I had to stock up on Velveeta and other wonderfulness like that. I have been wanting to see Johnny Cooper in concert for a long time and I finally got to do that. I am pretty sure I got food poisoning from Red Lobster and I thought I might not be able to fly home, but after a small prayer and one more run to the bathroom and I was good. Well, good enough to be able to stand up without feeling ridiculously nauseous and faint, I guess. But enough about that. I got a whole row of seats to myself on my long flight. A Tylenol PM and and a whole row of seats makes for a nice solid night of sleep and I can't complain about that. I think I am going to go start on the huge task of unpacking now. I brought a sewing machine back!