Fall.

If there is one thing I've had to get used to, quickly, it's Fall. Where I come from Fall is a nonevent. But so is Winter. And Spring. Here, Fall actually happens. The leaves turn, it gets windy and crisp, and you actually want hot drinks. The problem is, it comes with something that I'm not too fond of: DARKNESS.

Pitch black, can't see, 4PM - DARKNESS.

Now, if you talk to my dog (and he could talk back) he would tell you that this is the coolest most awesome thing ever. This is because we get to take our ball out to the pitch black park with a flashlight and play with it. After one attempt my dog now wears a bike light so I can find him, and I don't throw the ball very far at all. Not that it matters. Instead, if you ever happen to wander into our park you'll see this blinking red light bouncing all over the field and a flashlight frantically looking for wherever I may have tossed the ball.

I can't complain, though. Because for the first time in a really long time I actually feel the holidays coming. I actually get the whole candles and cider and twinkling lights deal. I also am looking forward to the English version of 4th of July - Guy Fawkes. By December I'll have marked my first entire year of living abroad, and I couldn't be happier.

Unless, of course, someone can tell me where to find a dog friendly light up squeaky ball.

Envy.

I wish all joy in life were attached to a little rattling toy which I could slide all over the floor and chew on.

Seriously.

Contemplations and a Flat Fellow Named Stanley.

I got the red jacket of rejection.

About a week ago my London Marathon ballot came in as bust. As a person just coming off a half part of me was gloriously relived, and the other part of me felt like poo.

But, I got a red jacket. It's really nice and not bright yellow (which is my normal biking jacket). All the pockets have zippers and there is a big, white, London Marathon hello-I-got-rejected logo on the front.

Now I have to consider charity. My dilemma is this: fundraising. Okay, yes, for three years I did fundraising for a living. I know how to fundraise. But:

1. I have to believe in the cause.
2. I have no real fundraising base here.

Trust me, when the red jacket of rejection arrived I immediately started looking up the charities I know I would support. Result? Almost every single one of them had already given out their places or their closing date was in a day or two. It was like being beaten charity bats while zipped up tight into the red jacket of rejection. Seriously.

So now I'm in a mental block about it. Knowing I HAVE to decide something, but worried to pieces I won't make the fundraising goal. This is on top of all the training I know I need to do to succeed.

Thank goodness I have Flat Stanley.

For anyone who ever gets the opportunity to be a Flat Stanley host, take it. Not because people will think you are strange carrying around a little paper person colored by you hometown third grader. . . or that you have to explain to the museum docents that sticking it next to the case of shrunken heads at the Pitts Rivers is educational for said third grader. . . or even because you spend up to thirty minutes positioning said paper person in such a way that he looks 'natural' in a shrub. . . do so because it's way cool.

My Flat Stanley is into wearing earth tones and has a pocket on his shirt. I've taken him all over town today and spent a lot of time adjusting him. The teacher, in her wisdom, laminated him for safe travel. Problem is that means glare if the sun catches him. Thankfully England is a cloudy place, but nonetheless there are some pictures I will need to redo on some of our more common gray days. And with it being zero week (yay Oxford speak - go look that up) we have people climbing the walls. There was a line to get into Christ Church! I've never seen that before, ever.

So mercifully all the walking and photos with Stan got some of the rejection off my mind. . . yet makes me think that if I put as much passion into the fundraising as I am into Stanley, then perhaps I should just choose a charity and make the leap.