Pav.....

Pavlova. Kiwis and Aussies fight over who is entitled to the official rights regarding this fluffy meringue dessert. Made with egg whites and superfine caster sugar a pavlova done right will have a crunchy outside that encases the lightest marshmallow fluff you can imagine. Now hang on a minute. When I say "marshmallow fluff" I don't mean the stuff you can buy in the jar. I'm describing something more like ambrosia: a sweet, billowing ultralight cloud.

It will come as no surprise that with Timmy at the helm in the kitchen he made the perfect pavlova. On the first try. Now this is no easy feat. I say this for two reasons. One, it's easy to contaminate your egg white mixture along the way. A tiny bit of oil in your mixing bowl or a minuscule piece of egg yolk sneaking in with the white will destroy all efforts. Two, many self-reported experts online openly scoff and say that you cannot make pavlova without an electric mixer. They say don't even bother. With our tiny kitchen we have a dearth of counter space and therefore very few appliances. Amongst those we don't have is an electric mixer. This fact would dissuade me from trying such a recipe but Tim was unfazed. He say, "Ah, yeah, it'll be fine. I'll whip it by hand". And he did. For at least 30 minutes he sat on the couch and whipped those egg whites until peaks began to form in the mixture.

From there he piled the fluffy creation onto the baking-paper-covered cookie sheet and slid it into the oven.

We watched it periodically during the cooking time. After it had elapsed we followed the instructions and let it cool completely in the oven which took several more hours. 

In the end Tim served up a beautiful Pavlova with freshly whipped heavy cream topped with blueberries, kiwifruit and strawberries. A veritable taste sensation!

Book love....

The Night Circus. An escape into whimsy.

Ank,,,,,

You know about the sprained ankle. Yep. After arriving back in Wellington I hemmed and hawed about going to physiotherapy. Physio was a new concept to us when we moved to NZ; it's not exactly physical or occupational therapy nor is it strictly massage or chiropractic treatment. Instead, it's a amalgamation of the three. So in NZ if you have a sprain or break you go to and see a 

"physiotherapist" and they assist you in your recovery. 

I spent the remainder of that first week at home with my foot propped up hoping that the rest would reduce the stress it endured on the trip back to Wellington. I did see a little progress each day; however, the following week I decided to go to physio because it was still pretty sore. I was still worried that something terrible had happened. I mean, who knows what's going on in there?

With trepidation I stepped into the physiotherapy office that's part of our Student Health Service here at Victoria. After an examination of the joint and surrounding tissue he confirmed that indeed it hadn't been broken. Or fractured. And there was no ligament tears! I was so relieved. Then he told me that the reason it was so painful was because I had sprained both sides. Of course I did! Sigh. And the terrible bruises came from damage to the muscle on the inside of my foot. 

Since then I've been stretching it as per his instructions and go back each week to have it checked. We are seeing improvement which is good. But I've also learned that my body, in an effort to protect itself, has altered the way that I walk. This is taking weight off the damaged portion on the outside of my foot while putting extra stress on the damaged portion of the inside of my foot. I have additional exercises for this and really hope that we can get a handle on it soon. Hopefully these "ankle" posts will fade away in the wind as my recovery continues. I'm so ready to be past this!

Book love....

Sycamore Row. Another well written tale by John Grisham.

En route.....

The following morning I got up early and saw my mom off via shuttle to Reagan Airport. After that I went back to bed for a couple hours. Knowing that I wouldn't get any good rest on the plane I figured I should get as much sleep as I could before I started traveling.

When the alarm sounded I got up, dressed and finished packing everything into my big bag with a few things stuffed into my carry on. When the time came I called the front desk and they moved my big bag downstairs where I waited for my shuttle. It was a few minutes late and had me worrying. I was already worried about making all my connections, collecting my bag along the way and all of this with a sprained ankle that needed rest but instead was getting international travel! But just as I was starting to obsess it pulled into the hotel drive.

The shuttle picked up a few more people before dropping us at our respective terminals. I hefted my pack onto my back and said, "Ok, Bridget, you can do this". I started walking down the length of the corridor and after a stretch didn't see Virgin America anywhere. What? I started back because I knew they were located inside Terminal 1. After perusing all the signs I saw a smallish one that led me to their desk that was, unintuitively, around a corner. I wrestled the hip belt from my bag, secured it and put the whole thing into it's carry bag. This I lugged a mercifully short distance to the counter where I checked in without incident. I asked if they could communicate to my connecting flight that I would need a wheelchair to make my connection at LAX. They made the arrangements and asked if I wanted to be wheeled to my gate. I asked how far it was to which they replied, "Kind of far" and then called for a wheelchair. It was good thing we did this. We took a tram then went through a maze of corridors, via the elevators of course, before finally arriving at the gate. As luck would have it there was a Chipotle right next to my gate so I hobbled over and tucked into what would be my last Chipotle meal (and Coke to drink). :) :(

After that I settled in to wait for the flight to start boarding. We flew, with relatively few bumps, to LAX and this time I had magazines, books and a movie screen to keep my busy. Arriving at LAX I was whisked away to my gate in record time. I then stopped by Duty Free for one last Clinique item that had been overlooked when I went shopping earlier in the week. Finding a seat near the gate I sank into it and wondered if I should request a seat change for this flight. I was worried about my ankle and how it would fair. I mean, you get foot swelling during these long flights under normal circumstances. In the end I decided to go up and ask. All they could say was no. So I did. The desk agent took a look at the empty seats and found a "G" that would be perfect for me. So, there are three seats on each bulkhead and four in the middle of the plane. "G" seats are the farthest to the right in the middle section. She put me there because there wasn't anyone sitting in the two seats to the left of it. That way I could put my foot up for part of the flight. This was a lifesaver. I also explained my predicament to a flight attendant and she kept me stocked with bags of ice to pack around my foot. This was no surprise - Air New Zealand has top service! I was pleased that I was able to sleep some of the night and move around enough to stay relatively comfortable. We had no turbulence for which I was grateful. After taking a couple bizarro vegetarian meals, watching a couple movies and sleeping on and off we were making our descent into Auckland! Hooray!

From there, with the help of Air New Zealand staff, was put in another wheelchair and then wheeled over to collect my bag before heading through Customs and Immigration checkpoints. The woman who helped me was a wizard as she managed to push me (to be fair it was a wheelchair that could only be pushed from behind, that is, I couldn't push it!) and maneuver my big bag on a cart. Soon we had dropped off my bag again and were heading through Immigration. I declared my Tylenol with codeine because, if they looked in my bag, they would've found it straightaway. The woman asked, "So what drugs are you bringing it with you?". I explained the ankle situation front the low vantage point of the wheelchair and she was happy enough. Then I needed to transfer to the Domestic Terminal. We boarded the shuttle bus and the attendant who was with me asked a gentleman who had just sat down if I could have his seat. She took very good care of me. We disembarked the bus and she left me with one of her colleagues who took me to my gate where she verified my information to make sure we were in the right place. From there the desk agents asked if I could walk on the plane to which I responded, "Yes". However, one of them was a woman in her 50s, probably a mom. She insisted that she wheel me on board. At that point I was exhausted and not arguing with anyone. :) After getting situated in my seat another wheelchair bound woman boarded with her husband. She had a broken foot so we commiserated for a few minutes while everyone else piled into their seats around us.

The little flight, just 46 minutes, went quickly and I was preparing myself for the stereotypically bumpy landing in Wellington. But it never happened. We landed with a few small bumps and I thought, "Yes! Soon I'll see Timmy!". They opened the doors and a wheelchair came to get me. I was scanning faces as soon as we emerged from the jetway. And there he was! After everything I had made it home. Within a few minutes we picked up my bag and I breathed a sigh of relief. For some reason I always wonder if my bag will arrive when I travel.

From there we took a cab home where I found that Timmy had bought all my favorite NZ things (like Tim Tams and cider) in addition to some gorgeous fresh flowers. It goes without saying: IT WAS SO GOOD TO BE HOME! :)

Rest day....

The next day we did no sightseeing. Instead, Jess drove up to Silver Spring to have lunch with us. Then we spent the rest of the afternoon working on the computer. I help my mom set up her very own blog. She writes a monthly design column for their local newspaper and is branching out to a blog: yourdesignstyle.blogspot.com.

I also spent a decent amount of the day with my foot elevated and packed with ice. It was feeling  a little bit better each day but I was still dreading the following day when I would embark on the long journey from DC to Wellington. In an effort to make my bag as light as possible I practiced packing and sent a few things back with my mom. Anything I could spare I sent with her. In the end it really was a lot lighter even though I was bringing a decent amount of Clinique back with me. :)

Monuments....

After Air & Space everyone was ready to call it a day for my sake but I could have none of that! The pain wasn't too bad, I had my tylenol with codeine if needed and riding in the wheelchair had saved a huge number of steps.

Initially, mom and I had agreed that we would do the "monuments walk" around the National Mall. This would get us near many of the monuments and let's face it: I wanted to see them all! But with the ankle messing up plans we compromised and set off to see a few of them. First up was the Lincoln Memorial. If I only got to see a limited number of monuments I wanted this one to be the first. We drove as close as we could get and Meredith and Meegan dropped us off and went to find parking. Jess, mom and I took some snaps out front before walking over to get a front-on view of Honest Abe.

We slowly made our way over to the front of the monument. From there you could turn around and get stunning view down the length of the National Mall, over the Reflecting Pool and Washington Monument, past the World War II Memorial all the way to the Capitol Building at the far end. I had to laugh when I was lining up photos because it looked like the Capitol Building was photobombing the Washington Monument. :)

Turning around to take in the Lincoln Memorial in all its glory immediately my heart sank. There were so many stairs! :( And of course I really wanted to go up! But Jess saved me from a minor meltdown when he deftly located the elevator. I mean, of course they have one, I just had never needed one before now. So we zipped up, stepped out of the elevator and around a corner. We had walked right out next to where he's sitting and the effect was nothing short of breathtaking. I stood for a long time taking it all in while balancing lightly on my sore ankle. Next, I perused the walls where two of his speeches had been engraved into the stone: The Gettysburg Address and his Second Inaugural Address. In a word: WOW. 

From there we walked down via the Vietnam War Memorial. I was instantly struck by a somber, sobering feeling as I looked at what seemed like an endless number of names inscribed in the stone. 

With one last stop still in me, our gracious drivers dropped us off at the World War II Memorial. The sun was sinking fast, with temperatures dipping to match. I hobbled along to take in both sides of the memorial. It was quite beautiful.

Tired and cold I had reached my limit for the day. All things considered I was very happy with everything we'd been able to accomplish despite my injurious setback. From there we headed back towards Silver Spring where we happily sat down to a Tex Mex dinner. (Not Chipotle!)