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Since I finished my coursework last week, the other aspects of my life have picked up. NTS and I celebrated our first anniversary with the end-of-year ceilidh and a trip to the ocean with our dance group.

(I hesitate to say “beach” because the public strip of sand is so unlike the state and national parks I’m used to swimming in at home, with their long stretches of sand, dune grass, trees, rocks and/or cliffs. I am given to understand, however, that these things are less standard in beaches in the rest of the US. But I can’t help considering a beach consisting solely of sand, water and cafe rather naked.)

But you know what there was? Sand! Lots of sand. My gorgeously geeky friends capped off a day of sand mermaids and speedboats with an animated Davros, from Doctor Who.

This is the point at which I amazed my friends and forever cemented my place in geekdom as the resident expert on the anatomy of a Dalek. I cannot, however, take credit for the kitchen utensils.

This is the point at which I amazed my friends and established my credentials as the resident expert on the anatomy of a Dalek. I cannot, however, take credit for the kitchen utensils.

Last weekend was crowned by a housewarming party. I have come to heartily dislike the habit of junior year abroad, as I had to say goodbye to several friends this week. I haven’t been on the staying end of these goodbyes in a while. It’s sad from this end, too. It’s also strange to be the staying one when I’m also so far from home, with no intention of making my life here permanently.

On a happier note, I made sangria this afternoon. Sangria to me says summer barbeque and friends and Sean’s probably been dumping all the delicious fruit and alcohol he can find into the sangria jar again. Sangria is the bearer of nostalgia, even before we start drinking.

On that note, it’s nearly dinnertime, and I’d best pack up the wine glasses for safe transport.

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