I have some terribly exciting news to share with you today! I've got a new gig as a contributing writer for Anglotopia.net, the world's largest Anglophile web site! I'll be serving as their British literature columnist henceforth.

You might think that sounds a whole lot like my dream come true. And you'd be right.

Anglotopia has long been one of my most favorite sites on the web, so I am chuffed and hono(u)red to be joining their team! And to be writing about literature no less, my oldest and truest love.

If you haven't already, I urge you to go and bookmark Anglotopia immediately, like them on Facebook, follow them on Twitter, and subscribe to their email digest. They've got everything from travel tips to telly reviews. If there's a soft spot in your heart for anything at all related to Britain or Britishness, I promise they've got something for you.

But what will all this mean for the blog you're reading now - my own humble Between Two Waves of the Sea? In addition to my new duties at Anglotopia, I am also beginning graduate school this month. And continuing my work with UNC Global. So it's safe to say I'm about to be quite gruesomely pressed for time.

Therefore, many of my posts here for the foreseeable future are apt to concern British literature and most will merely direct you to articles I write over on Anglotopia. My weekly health blogging, I'm afraid, will have to take a back seat, though I still intend to dabble with it whenever and however I can.

Thank you so much for all your continued love and support and patience. And thank you especially for your willingness to read all the nearly worthless drivel I write, whatever and wherever it may be. I appreciate your sticking with me during this time of transition and sincerely hope you will enjoy what I create in this new capacity.

Cheers,

You know that thing you and your best friends always say you're going to do, but don't? Well, we are.

Three of the people I love most in all the world are here beside me and we're off to George, Washington (that's the name - not joking!) for the holiday weekend. Labor Dave Weekend, as it were.

We are bound for the Gorge - the fabled Heaven's Amphitheatre. The Celestial Concert Hall. The Grassy Grandstand.

I just made that last one up. I'm not even sorry.

Care to join? As ever, I am to be found on both Twitter and Instagram under the handle @CindyScottTraeg. You can also follow my dear friend and traveling companion, Small Pictures blogger Meg Martin, on Twitter and Instagram under the moniker @Meg_Martin.

I'll leave you with this...

 

"Look here are we
On this starry night staring into space
And I must say
That I feel as small as dust lying down here."

Cheers,

P.S. STAY TUNED for a rather large announcement from me next week. I've just got an intriguing new writing gig. It's going to be fabulous. Holding off until I have all the details, but I can't wait to tell you all about it!

As I did previously around this time last week, I'd like to take a moment to share with you some of the fine tunes that are seeing me through this stressful Monday. "Hang on," you say. "Cindy. Is this a...a series?"

Well, I don't know. I'm almost tempted to call this Marvelous Music Monday or something and make a tag for it. Almost. But not quite. Grad school begins in a few short weeks, and I'm developing a really massive fear of commitment as a result of the uncertainty surrounding my schedule. I am currently fighting the strong urge to treat every responsibility in my life as a really dubious, evasive significant other might. Can't we just keep it casual, babe? Why do we have to call it anything?

Anyway, I do enjoy letting you peek into my weekly playlists, and I'll continue to allow it as often as I can. This morning, I would very much like to introduce you to Nottingham's Dog is Dead, if you haven't already had the pleasure. They boast handsome harmonies and beautiful brass and they make me smile a whole lot. This is high praise from me, if you don't know.

Here's their new Glockenspiel Song:

And their infinitely darker Two Devils:

And an old but damn good one, Young:

If you're in the UK, you can easily get their music off iTunes or Amazon. If you're elsewhere, it's a trickier business entirely. One thing you can do, no matter your physical locale, is subscribe to their mailing list. Once you have, you'll be sent a link with a free download of their two-song Talent Show EP.

Apart from that, you'll have to be...creative.

God, very few things in this world rankle me more than the feeling of ridiculous impotency that comes with wanting to throw money at an artist and not being able to. This is 2012, people. I like you. Take my money. Please?

Cheers,

Oh, I've been so bad about posting things for Your Sunday Dose lately. I do apologize. I've been quite busy, and am about to get much busier. But I did want to make sure to write a little something today. Because you won't get a word out of me next weekend, when I'll be out in the wilds of Central Washington with my very best friends and my very favorite band at this little place called the Gorge, a.k.a. Heaven's Amphitheatre:

It's hard for me to explain what seeing the Dave Matthews Band there will mean to me. It will be a bit like going on an epic pilgrimage but also like coming home; like going for a raucous lark and like going to church, and it will be all these things at once somehow.

Obviously, the scenery and the tunes are guaranteed to be breathtaking. I just hope my breath isn't literally taken by my asthma, as it has been frequently of late. My experimental month on Spiriva didn't really help all that much. Lung function tests still indicate serious trouble and I'm having to huff Albuterol a whole lot more than I'd like. So what gives?

It's all a bit of a mystery, really. Allergy tests are normal, but nevertheless my airways seem to be getting more and more sensitive. The chest tightness I get with some of my worst episodes right now is really quite alarming - like somebody has reached two hands around under my ribs and is squeezing mercilessly, so there's no room to breathe in and no way for my lungs to expand the way they should.

My body - my immune system - is just behaving as if it hates itself utterly, per usual. If I laugh, if I cry, if I talk too much for too long, if I go for a long walk, if food passes my windpipe the wrong way, if I smell a flower (or a barbecue or laundry detergent), it all goes quickly to hell for me now.

I cough for hours at a time and, as a result, sound supremely hoarse more often than not these days. Oh and to clarify, that's Roz-from-Monsters-Inc.-hoarse, not sexy-Emma-Stone-hoarse, in case you were curious.

So, I'm trying out Zyflo now (the Edith Crawley of leukotriene inhibitors - Singulair's neglected, awkward sibling). And my team of docs is currently attempting to get me accepted into a clinical trial for severe persistent asthmatics at a research facility north of Seattle. I'd get first crack at some brand new medications and I'd be paid pretty handomsely, too ("It's all totally scientific, laboratory conditions...").

Of course, I suppose I could also be stricken with strange side effects. Or killed. But I don't even care at this point. My fingers and toes are crossed. Because if they don't accept me, we're almost out of options - apart, of course, from a good, old-fashioned increase of steroids. Trying desperately to avoid that, if I can, since my adrenals have actually been quite pleasantly stable at my current dose.

Anyhow, no matter what happens, I consider myself very lucky to be living in a part of the world where so much asthma research is ongoing. And I'm quite proud of my alma mater back on the East Coast, too. Actually, my main motivation for writing this post was to share with you some exciting studies that have recently come out of the University of North Carolina:

• First, I ran across this article on the Huff Post Healthy Living Blog. It touts the potential of vitamin C and other antioxidants to protect lungs on high-pollution days and name-drops some pretty promising research from the likes of UNC, Imperial College London, the University of British Columbia, and Cornell. So please excuse me while I go eat a fucking truckload of oranges.

• Then, I spied this news from the BBC - apparently, a team from UNC has recently made some breakthroughs that may aid our understanding of how lungs function, particularly with regard to the role of mucus. The U.S. News and World Report health blog also gave their work a mention. And here is the official UNC News Services presser I got for work.

That's all I really have to share for now. So I'll leave you with these wise words:

"You see this crazy man
Decided not to breathe,
He turned
Red then blue - purple -
Oh so colorful indeed,
No matter how his friends
Begged and pleaded
The man would not concede
And now he's dead, you see,
The silly man should know you got to breathe."

Cheers,

What is a lover of good British drama to do whilst waiting around for the third seasons of Downton and Sherlock to arrive? Watch Third Star of course - a gorgeous, heartrending film featuring Sherlock's Benedict Cumberbatch and Downton's Hugh Bonneville. Before you settle in for your tenth re-watch of The Reichenbach Fall or the DA Christmas special (not that I would know anything about this sort of pathetic behavior, I just hear things...), please give this low-budget, breathtakingly beautiful indie a chance.

It premiered over two years ago, in June 2010, at the Edinburgh Film Festival. But this past Tuesday, it became available via American Video On Demand services for the first time (international DVDs are apparently scheduled for release later this month).

Watch the trailer:

 

The film follows James (Benedict Cumberbatch) and his three best friends (Tom Burke, JJ Feild and Adam Robertson) on an epic trek to Barafundle Bay in Wales. James is dying of cancer and just wants one more day in this, his most favorite place in all the world. As the film's web site puts it, the trip is "fraught with practical difficulties, surreal encounters, and emotionally ravaging revelations." James handles the physical strain of it all as I imagine any proper Brit would - with Guinness and morphine. He and his mates fight and bond and lose things and light things on fire and meet a barmy, beach-combing Hugh Bonneville searching for rare Darth Vadar figurines, all with the absolutely stunning Pembrokeshire coast for a backdrop. You'll snicker for a while and then sob until you feel your soul is broken, and it's basically fantastic.

What really wins you over are the relationships between these four characters. They are so refreshingly genuine. There is annoyance and respect and jealousy and anger in these relationships. And there is also love. See here in America, where the best film about male bonding we can muster is The Hangover, we seem incapable of acknowledging that men can actually care about - and care for - each other. And when we do manage to acknowledge it, it's a subject we invariably treat with mockery and derision.

So I found this film altogether as honest and fresh as the sea breezes you can practically feel against your face whilst you watch. It made me desperately want to take a trip with my best friends. And lucky for me, I'll be doing just that in a couple of weeks. Despite my own ongoing (but comparatively minor) health problems, I shall do my best not to behave like a sick white Oprah. I did quite enough of that last year.

Anyway, while we're on the subject of Downton and Sherlock, it appears that Dan Stevens and Benedict Cumberbatch are having a bit of an online row at the moment. I'm not really sure what's going on if I'm honest. I'm inclined to think it's all in the spirit of (rather vicious?) jest. But for all our sakes, I do hope to god they wrestle it out.

Speaking of things I would kill to see right now, here's a brand new Downton clip:

 

I'm going to buy an Apple TV next week so I can stream it right into my living room when it returns to ITV this fall via the glorious magic that is Unblock-US and Mountain Lion's AirPlay. If you're on this side of the pond and actually considering waiting until January 2013, I pity you fool!

Cheers,

If you subscribe to get my posts via email, the last two probably didn't make it to your inbox. Apparently I broke something. Still don't know quite what or how, but I most certainly did. Broke it good, too. However I think I fixed it now. Maybe.

That might be my favorite thing about web design - that bewildered sort of joy you experience when you fix something and - here's the crucial part - you don't even really know what happened or why it needed fixing in the first place. All you know is that something used to work, and then it didn't, and then you lost an entire afternoon error-Googling and forum-skimming and code-tweaking and then - wonder of wonders! - everything miraculously works again and all is right with the world.

Then you shrug and look at yourself in the mirror and give yourself a thumbs up and say "Damn, you're brilliant. Look at you, you nerd superhero! You're the fucking HTML Hulk. Captain CSS. Professor PHP. WordPress Woman."

At least, that's what I do. This literally happens every day (I vary which superhero I am). And once I have emerged from the fix-it fog in my mind palace, I would be very hard pressed to explain to you what exactly I did, or how or why. So I don't even try. I just sit back and feel immensely proud of myself until the next day, when something breaks again and the whole weird process begins anew.

Anyway, now that FeedBurner seems to be back on board, maybe it will overcompensate today and send you the posts you've missed (they are here and here, for the record). Or maybe it'll only send you this one.

I just hope to god it sends something. That's the only purpose of this post, really. Just doing a little systems check to make sure everything is back up and running smoothly again where the RSS is concerned.

Sorry for more or less wasting your time with this. Please, enjoy some vintage Barenaked Ladies for your trouble:

 

Cheers,

I've got this good old Gainsbourg gem on repeat, and it is getting me through a rather manic Mon-na-na-na-na-na-na-day. Just thought I'd share, in case it can help you conquer yours.

Rather than continue to wrestle with the server this afternoon, I can tell you I would really like to go stand on the old plateau, with a satellite dish and Geronimo's ghost. I'm not sure what all that entails, actually, but it sounds way more efficient.

Cheers,

P.S. I'm a bad person. I'm a bad person and I lied to you. I didn't publish that article I keep touting for Your Sunday Dose yesterday like I said I would. Mostly because I realized I need to research sulfite-free wines some more. And I should have ample opportunity to do just that when I head to California in a couple months (yes! Train tickets are booked - the rumors are true). Also, I had some other work and writing obligations come up. More on those later. Maybe. 'Til then, just forgive me? Please?

P.P.S. Oh heck yes. A new Two Door Cinema Club tune. Sharing too, because I love you. And we can all use more good music to kick off our week, can't we?

Note: click here for more terrible kettle rhymes. I really want to use petal, but I can't figure how.

Sorry. Can I just take a few minutes to express my undying appreciation for my new Cuisinart CPK-17 PerfecTemp 1.7-liter stainless steel cordless electric kettle? Is that okay? Is that healthy?

I don't care. I'm doing it.

I swear to god, this isn't a sponsored post. Cuisinart has given me nothing except this ingenious device, for which I paid in full. I'm just...in love. Passionately, unashamedly in love.

This baby has individual presets for delicate, green, white, oolong, and black teas, so you're assured you're steeping at precisely the appropriate temp. And it's got a "keep warm" setting. And LEDs that change color. That's not strictly necessary, of course, but it is pretty. And the world needs more pretty. Especially before sunup or in the late afternoon after a long and annoying day, which are prime tea-drinking times.

Oh and did I mention it's faster than Usain Bolt? It's glorious. Just glorious. If you're in the market for a new one, I highly, highly recommend it.

The list price is pretty steep (no pun intended) some places, but I scored mine online for under $60.

Do it. Get one. You know what they say. Once you go electric...

Okay, I'm not going there.

Cheers,

In honor of National Lighthouse Day, I wanted to share these shots I took of Bodie Island Light a couple years ago. This 164-foot, black and white beauty stands near Nags Head on the Outer Banks.

Looking at these pictures again makes me miss North Carolina terribly. And the Atlantic, and all the towering, elegant beacons that join Bodie in standing watch over that majestic ocean.

While I know the lights will be there when I return someday, I can only hope that my children and my children's children will feel as confident in their own abilities to enjoy them. But really, that's far from a foregone conclusion.

Times are tough, as we're all aware. There just isn't much money to throw around for things like historic preservation these days. So the U.S. General Services Administration has auctioned off scores of lighthouses in the past few years. On the east coast and west, and from the Gulf of Mexico to the Great Lakes, too many historic beacons and their grounds are languishing in disrepair.

James Hyland, president of The Lighthouse Preservation Society, has said that “lighthouses are to America what castles are to Europe." If that's true, we simply must do a better job of safeguarding them, as they have safeguarded us.

National Lighthouse Day commemorates the day in 1789 when Congress initially approved "an Act for the establishment and support of lighthouses, beacons, buoys and public piers." Now, I would encourage you to consider some small actions you can take to help ensure these gorgeous structures remain.

One step I took this year was the purchase of a "Visit Our Lights" license plate to support the Florida Lighthouse Association. If you tag your vehicle in Connecticut, Delaware, Massachusetts, Michigan, Mississippi, New Jersey, North Carolina, South Carolina, Ohio, Pennsylvania, Rhode Island, Virginia or Washington, you can purchase a tag to support the preservation of lighthouses in those states, too.

Also, some banks allow you to purchase checks featuring images of iconic beacons, with a cut of the proceeds going to the Lighthouse Preservation Society.

But far and away the best thing you can do is pay these structures a visit. Most are open to the public. Many are encompassed by state and national parks. Some feature special events and educational programs, like ghost tours or guided climbing excursions. All are outrageously photogenic.

I recommend my Lighthouse Love Pinterest pin board as a source of trip inspiration. God knows it makes me want to hop in the car.

Oh and while we're speaking of worthy preservation efforts, check out the Bodleian's new Sprint for Shakespeare campaign to completely digitize their copy of the First Folio. The likes of Stephen Fry and Vanessa Redgrave have already pledged their support. And you can too, for as little as £20 per page:

Cheers,

I'll be frank. I have nothing much prepared to share with you this weekend. It has been a good and busy weekend.

Mr. Andy Murray, whose trademark heartburn-inducing, cortisol-necessitating, asthma-provoking, soul-crushing tennis matches typically do a number on my mental, emotional, and physical health, did something rather extraordinary and uncharacteristic today. He won. He finally, finally won. Not only that, he won a gold medal. And decisively too, without unnecessary drama, turmoil, or threat of throwing it all away at the last possible moment. It was one small victory for my nerves, and one giant victory for Team GB. It's been a long time coming, and I couldn't be more chuffed for him. Congratulations, Muzza!!! Now, onwards to the US Open!

But while we're on the subject of the Olympics (and with the intention of making this post something other than an utter waste of your time), I'd like to offer up this interesting article from Scientific American about the prevalence of asthma among Olympians (it's far and away the most common chronic condition among the athletes).

And also this Globe and Mail article about Canadian gymnast Nathan Gafuik, who suffers from Addison's Disease. He's officially my new hero. I'm going to stop complaining about being afraid to dose for time zones now. Because, you know, I don't have to be an elite athlete when I land or anything. I cannot even fathom this guy's life. I can't.

Anyway, that's all I got this week, kiddos. Next Sunday, I promise I'll offer up my highly-anticipated missive on sulfites and asthma. Stop by then to find out why fermented alcohol and certain dental procedures might be bad for you and your breathing. News you can use, I hope.

Cheers,