... and since then ... 2015

2015 will forever be a year of mixed reviews.  I finally was ready to hand in my Intent to Complete, a very scary document which meant you are now a grown-up and are ready to defend all your work. As I waited for my Viva date to be announced, Bill returned to the UK and we travelled.

To the left, my Thesis (Novel and Defense) submitted and ready for review. It is a very scary, humbling, and exciting time to actually see your work transformed into a bound copy. This represents three years of hard work, the support of family and friends, new friends and old, research and travel to weave my story, 'Standing Stone', using three time periods, three countries, three women, a murder mystery, a romance (several), myth, legend, and history, and more happy accidents than I can express. Then comes the defense...

London

Aberystwyth

Tregaron, Wales

However, having submitted, we travelled to relieve the stress and prepare for the upcoming Viva. Here is a kaleidoscope of pictures.

Stonehenge, UK

Giant's Causeway, North Ireland

Sheelanagig in Hereford, England

River Avon near Stratford

We traveled to Scotland, Ireland, North Ireland, and throughout the south and midlands of the UK. I wrote a whole chapter while at Stonehenge for my sequel, 'Lament'. We visited the famous but not only Sheelanagig (seen above on a church wall) and left a stone cairn in Exeter Cathedral. We visited Gretna Green in Scotland while I thought of Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice and, of course, I traveled with my very own Mr. Darcy.

Exeter Cathedral, England

 June 26th came upon us so quickly and my Viva dawned bright and sunny. Nervous doesn't really do justice to the butterflies which had taken up residence in my stomach. I have very little memory of the actual process (probably a blessing) except that upon conclusion, I was asked if I wanted the good news or the bad. The good, I replied. "Congratulations Dr. Nerenberg." And then I was shaking hands and wondering what the bad would entail. I needed to rewrite my Defense and had six months to do so. The corrections to my 404 page novel took a day to correct. The defense, (99 pages/25 of Bibliography) needed reworking as I was asked to compare, contrast, and place my novel alongside contemporary and classic authors and their works, rather than examine the psychological impact of story on brain function and how that relates to works of classic. Sigh! Never fear, rewriting the defense taught me a great deal and although fraught with angst and the stretching of my brain, I was glad in the end for the additional understanding I gained.

Wisely, especially after viewing the emotional roller coaster I'd been on, my husband whisked me away to Killiane Castle, Ireland, for three days and nights. Pure Heaven! I felt like a real life princess in a very surreal world. Then back to Aberystwyth to complete packing, shipping boxes, giving away food and household goods, tearful goodbyes, and flying home. It seemed as if I was being torn in two, for while eager to get home, I had also developed a second life in the three years I'd spent amongst the Welsh, a world full, rich and filled with both amazing people and self-discovery.

Once home I was zombified (surprised AutoCorrect didn't catch that one!) for a month. Then began my second spate of exhaustive research, reading, writing, feelings of confusion, thoughts of giving up again, insights, and just sitting in a chair and rewriting my defense outline for the gazillioneth time.

 My professor, Dr Rosie Dub, was an angel, who provided a lot of handholding. Thank you, Rosie. Finally, I was facing the holidays and had to submit, print, and deliver my hard bound copies to the English Department for final approval. I made my deadline with near three weeks to spare. 


The New Year began and we waited to see what 2016 would bring. It brought a letter, word that my work had been accepted and that in July the title of Doctor of Philosophy would be bestowed upon me. O frabjous day, calloo, callay!

Killiane Castle, Drinagh, Ireland 

January 2013 - Home to Home - Part I

Clock Tower near Birmingham, England

 An epic journey home to the West Coast of America marked the beginning of my holiday hiatus.  Thinking to be quite clever, I spent a bit more on tickets, choosing to fly to Amsterdam and then take a direct 13 hour flight to Portland.  Alas, arriving at Birmingham hours early to accommodate international travel, I was greeted with the news that it was snowing in Amsterdam.  Lovely, I innocently thought.  Not only will I see the country of my forefather's origins but it will be very Christmassy!  This is, however, when I learned that planes do not fly in the snow if they can help it and that one of the things that the Brits do best is "queue."

Used to American efficiency and a certain amount of impatience in being thwarted by one's travel plans (did I say that nicely?), no one else in line seemed to be at all surprised when we had to wait for someone from KLM to show up to reroute us... all 200 plus of us.  I fortunately was in the beginning of the line (early arrival has its perks). The someone from KLM showed up and was just that... one...  someone.  There were actually two but one was shunted off to the side to handle elite ticket holders, class will out!

 I met the loveliest people in line: a young blond, blue-eyed student going home to Finland and three British South Africans journeying to visit family.  The nearly three hours in queue passed pleasantly.  I was rerouted to Dublin, a four hour layover, then Boston, and finally home.  Flight time was up 50%.  So much for expensive tickets.  But at least I was going home or so I thought.

Flight into the morning

Arriving in Boston, I was told to take the shuttle to the ticket counter.  Being inexperienced, I did.  "I'm sorry, madam, but your gate is closed."  "Yes," I replied hopefully.  "Call them and tell them I'm here and have them hold it please."  "That is not possible.  The gate is closed."  "My luggage is on that flight.  I've been in these clothes for 24 hours.  I have no American money with me. Can I speak with your supervisor?" My American impatience was beginning to crack. Failing to impact Boston, I began to cry (didn't work!).  "I don't even have a toothbrush," I exclaimed.  Boston mumbled something about not scheduling adequate time between international and domestic flights, arranged to put me in a hotel overnight, gave me a toothbrush and a small packet of sundries, and a $6 meal voucher for dinner and another for breakfast.  I walked to the hotel, dropped what little I had in my room and went downstairs to eat.  $6 voucher + Boston prices = a very nice dinner salad and since they didn't take pounds Sterling, I now have $1.42 on my American Express card.  The next day I was rerouted to Atlanta, Georgia, before being sent homeward.  Fourty-six hours all totaled!

And the hours traveling faded like dew on a sunny morning when my little three-year-old grandson rounded the corner of the kitchen and saw his Nana sitting on the kitchen floor playing with his cousin.  He looked like a young fawn startled in a thicket.  I raised my arms.  He ran and buried himself in my lap.  The journey... what journey?  That moment filled my heart, healed my aching body, and brought me fully home.

Please join me next week for Part II of "Home to Home" or "What I Did On My Christmas Vacation."  See you then.