Top of the Morning to Y'all

My thirst for traveling has landed me a spot on Living Waters Ministry in Saltcoats, Scotland. Surrounded by water and working with an organization called Living WATERS should satisfy my quince for the next ten months. Not to mention the beauty of the countryside. From the perspective on the plane, all the green was a striking contrast to the sea of concrete I left in New York. I can walk to the beach from my house where we watched the sun set yesterday. The sky carried only a few wandering clouds; just enough to burst into an explosion of orange and red after the sun retreated behind the mountains. To all my fellow Houstonians who are sweating the summer, the weather is deliciously cool here with a crisp breeze.

Of all the new sights and wanders of a new culture, I think I shall recount what I refer to as "The Dollhouse Effect." Everything in Scotland is in miniature. Mini-cars, mini-washing machines, mini-bus stop seats...hardly constitutes a seat at all; more of a bar to lean on. I stopped at a cafe and asked for a glass of water to cure jetlag dehydration, and the woman handed me a glorified shotglass. So after I finished it in a swallow and was still teetering on the edge of passing out, I was really craving a big gulp, when everything is bigger in Texas. The sign that greets you coming off the airplane reads "Scotland- the best small country." The word "small" is written as defined and in another color. I thought it was a cute description of the English red-headed stepchild until a trip to the grocery store proved it to be quite literal. The shopping carts are about a third the size of our, every bottle and can is shrunk to fun-sized, and even the cash registers are half as big. I would also make the general judgment that many of the Scots are quite miniature. Though I haven't met many people yet, Father Freisure is a tiny, jolly leprechaun-looking man. His cute face with rosy cheeks displays a suspicious twinkle for mischief, and at any moment his bushy eyebrows will fly up as he dashes for the door, expecting us to follow in pursuit of his lucky charms.

Even without the petite priest and his mischievous winks, the country has impressed me in a way that I feel, well, charmed.

P.S. My seldom use of the word y'all is cause of many a snicker.