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,…
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…
“… 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 – 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…
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…
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.
I was originally going to make this a Dick Move! post, but honestly, if I did that every single time I felt the inclination, that’s all this site would be (and I’m pretty sure I can’t get the domain dickmove.com, and if I did, I would probably get a lot of misdirected traffic). But I…
A long, long time ago, when god was a boy, I went to school with a girl named Katie Cohen. We made interesting style choices, in line with the fashion of the mid-90s. Here is evidence of that: – And while I feel I should apologize to Katie for putting these photos up, she uploaded them to…
Last week, since Rand was busy with his conference (or “conference” as I used to put it before we were married, and I liked to kid that he had a secret family in some other city), I was able to wander up and down Magnificent Mile on my own. Determined not to sit in my…
When Rand and I flew into Chicago last week, it was frosty and freezing, and already dark. Those of you who know us realize that wasn’t an excuse to sit in our hotel room while a city waits (though I wouldn’t have entirely been against that. You hear me, Fishkin?). It was a freezing, quiet…
Tales of Food, Feminism, and Fury
by Geraldine DeRuiter
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