What About Scotland?

I actually checked the real estate listings for rentals in Edinburgh, Scotland yesterday. I mean, what if I get laid off and we sell the house and move to Scotland? It was a fleeting thought, less serious even than the passing notion of selling the house and moving to Mama Bird's extended family's farm in Southwest Ireland to raise sheep and cattle.

I checked the New Town first, because I figured it was a more fashionable section of Scotland's capital. It's about 1,500 pounds per month for a decent flat; far more for something with any kind of living space. The Old Town wasn't much cheaper. Eh. It would be kind of cool to live in Scotland for a while, but I can write anywhere in the world. Maybe if I get paid for my books I can visit Edinburgh again and head up to the Highlands for a day or two. I know we'll take the Bird and the future Baby Bird to Ireland one day; maybe a quick shot over to Scotland will do us good.

It's been a few days since my most recent post, and I must say the anxiety has diminished. I'm at the point that if it happens, I'm fine. If it doesn't happen, I'm fine, too. The waiting is a pain, but it's bearable. We know there are going to be many people out of work when this whole process is done. We know, too, that the "fortunate" ones who get to remain employed will have to work twice as hard (three times as hard for some) and the way things are going, they'll get their turn on the unemployment line soon enough.

So, as I wait to find out whether I'm valuable enough to stay aboard the sinking ship of print journalism, I and Mama Bird plan and live our lives. We spent Saturday and part of Sunday outside with the Bird, even though he's got a bit of a nasty cough and wasn't fit to go far from the house. Mama Bird got him a Dora slip 'n' slide, and he loved it (as you might guess from the above photo).

It's Dora the Explorer, because that's what they had at Publix for $10 and they didn't have Lightning McQueen or Backyardigans. Dora is, perhaps, the most obnoxious kids character since Barney. Her saucer eyes and nonsensical "missions" (fraught with peril delivered by a kleptomaniac fox named Swiper) are too annoying by half for anyone old enough to remember the Smurfs. Give me the Backyardigans, the Wonder Pets, Curious George and Little Einsteins. That's quality TV-as-babysitter material.