Hassells in the Highlands

        It is 10:15 am and I am sitting in the Birmingham airport waiting for my flight that leaves at 2:15 pm. I have a cold, frothy coffee drink from Costa, an e-book, the internet, and this blog post to keep me amused.    Katrina, Leah and Carol are on their way back to Scotland, and we should all be arriving at our destinations tonight about the same time.       This has been a fun week. But a week ago, and even 5 days ago, there was no way to know how it would go. Four women, all used to running their own households, together in a car for hours and hours and hours day after day after day and even sharing rooms.  Would we all get along? Would it be fun? And most importantly, would my roommate snore long and loud throughout the night, keeping me awake so that I was tired and dragging and cranky? (my own personal concern)    These were things that remained to be seen.   I...

Our trip to Venice was only the beginning. We then drove to Edinburgh to see the Military Tattoo and the Festival - both run through the month of August. And we took the longer route by driving along the coast through Aberdeen (which also has a Costco - but we didn't stop there) and then on to St. Andrews, which some of you may know is the Birthplace of Golf. That was on Mike's bucket list. So, just as he indulges me at quilt shops - to just look at fabric and projects, and sometimes actually make a wee purchase - I gave him this small gift of time and dollars. Or rather, pounds. He gawked at the course. He gawked at the players. He walked on the path through the middle of a fairway and he breathed it in. He gawked some more. Then he went into a shop to buy a souvenir (or two). And then as we were leaving, he saw another man, whose dream it must also have been to play this course, standing on the bridge while HIS wife took a picture of him. ...

Ciao! (Hello!) Venice was che bella (beautiful). Italy is the land of beautiful, flowing language. I feel sure that a person could say almost anything  in Italian and it could be interpreted as crooning words of love. Our gondola ride was a perfect example. We shared a gondola with two new friends we made on the Bar Tour (or Pub Crawl), depending on who you ask), just as it was getting dark. A romantic time of day. And we asked our gondolier to go down the small canals instead of the Grand Canal. Again, romantic. And soon, we heard our gondolier singing!  How delightful!  How romantic! After listening for a few minutes, sharing a kiss or two and snuggling in to each other, we asked him what he was singing about. His answer? Football!  LOL!  That's what we get for asking! water bus stop. They gather inside and wait for the boat to arrive The people who live in Venice seem to be a little indignant about being called "Italians." They are "Venet...