Looking like people, old architecture, Mom's Childhood Challenge...and more!

This is probably the most beautiful part of the town I live in. It's a moderately large place (pop. 200,000). But with less cars, less traffic, it feels smaller. The area we live (Oxford Road) is supposed to be a pretty rough neighborhood, but what does that mean in a place with zero handgun crime? (I should amend: Reading is supposed to be the "stabbing capital" of England. Right.) It's all moot cause I never have time to do anything after 9pm. Too many texts to read. It gets dark here around 4:30pm, if you can believe that. Too far north of the equator, I fear. It's wierd and Meridth gets a little stir crazy. I guess she'll do better come spring. I suppose I shouldn't mention it, because it's essentially a non-happening, but we had a pregnancy scare here. (Don't worry, it's over no. No ninos en route.) Meridth really wants a baby, but we both recognize that it'd be a fairly foolish endeavor at this juncture. Anyway, we've been married for nearly four years and Meridth turns 28 this year and she's finally done with university and, if I play my cards right, I might just be employed at a "real job" by the end of this year, so maybe then. Luckily we avoided any accidents, unlike another couple I can think of. (Ask Mom about her experience with spermacidal foam. Or don't.)

This is the ruins of an abby that used to be in the middle of Reading. Funny to think that this thing was abandoned before any of our ancestors set foot on American soil. Wierd that the rest of this town grew up around its ruins. I remember an unfinished hotel off of I-69 on the way to Muncie. In those idyllic days of Decatur, I drove the hour down there and explored the abandoned concrete skelleton of what was potentially a Holliday Inn or Ho-Jo. Took some pictures for Mr. Reith's photography class. I looked for it again a few years ago, but it's long gone. Even the ruins of what we never finished can't stand still.

Here's an interesting thing that the UK and the US have in common. This statue is dedicated to some 300 soldiers that lost their lives in Afghanistan in 1878. The scale of the statue isn't communicated in this photo, due to a lack of context, but it's huge.

Anyway, mom mentioned in one of her comments that she'd love to hear about our perspectives on our childhoods (Childrenhoods? What is the plural of "childhood?") I wonder if I can manage the kind of honesty requisite to fulfill that request, but it's an interesting question nonetheless. Is anyone game?

A few years ago, when I was home for Christmas, Meridth and I were looking through Grandpa Gimbel's flight logs from the war. I never thought I looked much like Dad. (Too much face-fat.) But Dad's always looked a lot like his dad. Anyway, there was one photograph of Grandpa's silhouette. It was uncanny, but it looked just like mine. I don't know if I look like Dad now (Too much beard.) but Meridth says I do. And we DO look a lot like a family. Everyone says so.

But then again everyone used to say I look like Hugh Grant. I'm not kidding. I used to get it once every two months, sometimes more. I really never thought I did, but consistantly for five years, I heard it a lot. Another reason to grow a beard.

So finally, here's a couple of photos of the cutest set of Gimbels in the land. I don't know if I mentioned it, (or if she did) but Meridth was so surprised and pleased that you made it out to her show, Ryan. Thanks a lot for that. It meant a whole lot to her, and it meant more to me to know that you were taking care of my wife after I abandoned her guts.

I don't know exactly what's going on here, but I do know it's super-cute. Three cheers for the Utah Gimbels! So I miss you guys and I'm stoked that we get to blog. Good show Karl. I'll post some more photos if I can muster the impetus. I do get lazy. Ciao!