Dispatches from the Void. V.III

New Poe-clamation states, “The House Is Ours Again, Peasants.“

Akela Jean Underland’s passes law that Foreign Intruders Must Be Registered. And Removed.

Mowgli discusses Chaucer with newly liberated Sunbeam.

This Week in Underland:

• Maisy Has Left the Building: The visiting doggo departed Monday. The cats have responded by reclaiming the floor, the furniture, and possibly the nation-state of Underland. River and Celia remain their humble tenants.
• Strange Accents & Stranger Bureaucracy: River encountered a rare American accent in the wild (via window). Celia briefly thought she had a criminal record. Turns out she’s innocent. Anxiety heightened.
• Tasty Treats: River tried Chinese British “seaweed” (which incidentally is not seaweed). New obsession ensues in Celia Kitchen.

Sunbeam Reclamation & Bureaucratic Panic: Underland, Unfiltered.

This week in Underland has been quite a bit quieter. Maisy went home on Monday—much to the cats’ relief (and honestly, ours as well… we were TIRED).

We’re now finding the cats suddenly laying claim to parts of the floor they previously ignored, as if to remind us: this is their house, and that thing doesn’t need to come back.

I was walking down the street and heard someone speaking on the phone with an American accent. That was weird. It’s the first time I’ve heard one “in the wild” since arriving here. Unfortunately, it was through a window, so saying, “Hi! Are you also watching in horror as our country melts?” felt like it might be a bit much.

It’s very strange being abroad while your country is in turmoil. There’s a sense of survivor’s guilt, mixed with a helpless “how do I get my family and friends out?”—and of course, the realization that none of that is simple. Immigration is difficult no matter where you go.

Speaking of immigration: Celia got her international child protection clearance this week, and for about twenty seconds, we thought she had a criminal record. There was panic. Shaking. A whole lot of “What did I do??”

Turns out the report includes a key to how you’re supposed to read it, and in that key it says something like “found criminal record = N/A.” So really, the “no trace” on her document meant exactly that—no record found. Which is, of course, wonderful. But for two anxious beings like us, those twenty seconds were pure terror.

On a brighter (and more delicious) note, I tried British Chinese seaweed for the first time yesterday. It’s not actually seaweed—it’s bok choy or collard greens, shredded, fried, and coated in ginger, salt, and sugar. It’s very good. Addictive, even.

I’ve realized that most of my favorite foods here aren’t British at all—they’re Asian. Which is fitting, since we’re moving to Thailand. That said, I do like the concept of a Sunday tea. It’s like a mini Thanksgiving, and I can get behind that.

My wife is an exquisite cook. We’ve been collecting photos of the dinners she’s made, and I’m sure we’ll do something with them eventually. I’ve traveled the world through the dishes she’s crafted for us, and it’s all very, very exciting.

It’s strange how time runs when you’re spending your days with someone you not only love but someone you create well with. Its a kind of intimacy that I didn’t think existed to have a partner in so many different senses of the word. I always find myself shocked when I look at the clock and our afternoon is gone. Time is precious especially when you’re living a life you never thought was possible. 

Anyway I will sign off for now, I’m going to go work on the fAce lIft for the day and have some leftovers while I’m at it. 

Until next Thursday 

-R <3

It’s been a week. Puppy damn near done me in. The End.

Peace and all the good stuff,

C x

If you’re reading this and you’re in the In-Between too — we see you. Let us know you’re out there.

Dispatches from the Void: Volume I →

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