Monday, April 6, 2009

one fish, two fish; red fish, blue fish

Edit: this is not the Dr. Seuss story. Sorry. But if you came here because you searched for that... here, wouldn't you like to know things to do with Venus, or eggs that have been drawn on. Just wondering. That's all.

Here's a funny story:

After evening service this past Sunday we were invited to the reverend's house with some other people. The subject turned to the differences I've seen or noticed while I'm here, and I mentioned the conversation between Sam and I in which he warned me, "The faucets are very strange here!"

There was a general confusion after this, and someone said "What?" and I said the last bit again. And the minister asked his wife, "Eh, who are the Faucets?"

It was brilliant: she had to explain they were taps, not faucets, and everyone had a good laugh. Then it died off, and one of the guys says, "Wait, what's wrong with our taps?!"

Sigh.

I went to Kelvin Grove Art Gallery today, which was free, for my tourist activity of the week. We took the train most of the way there, and Glasgow Central Station is amazing and beautiful. I totally forgot to take a picture of it until we were gone, and I figured Oh well, I can take a picture on the way home. But nope. We took a different way home.

But! I found a picture ON TEH INTERWEBZ and, while it's not quite as amazing as the real thing, is good enough. It looks much more dim and steam-punkish when you see it for real. And there are all these random people standing in strange places (like the middle of the way) waiting for their train, instead of, say, near the train area.

Have I mentioned anything about all the tea the people drink over here? I can't remember. Well, we drink a lot of tea.

Also: the title of this post has nothing to do with anything.

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who i am!

Tiph used to be this weird hippie chick who sewed things and drank tea and rode bikes and wrote silly things. Then, college came along, and now she's this weird hippie chick with math in her brain and notebooks full of indefinite integrals. And hardly any time to write. This is her space. Thankfully, space is a vacuum and any complaints you may have cannot be heard.

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