New Year's Eve.

What are you doing New Year's Eve? 

Me? Well, I'll be headed into Central to watch the fireworks with my brother (he's visiting!), so I'm hoping they'll be good as last year's...which were absolutely incredible.

Happy last day of 2012.

Simply having a wonderful Christmastime.

 

I spent Christmas up north in Manchester, with my sweet friend Hannah. It was lovely and festive and full of warmth and cheer (despite the grim weather). 

The cherry on top was tuning into Christmas with my family in New Mexico.

 Skype is a wonderful, wonderful thing.

A stick, a carrot & string.

I'm a big fan of Christmas songs (provided it's after Thanksgiving and before New Year's). My grandmother's favorite was Bing Crosby's White Christmas, so that one holds a special place in my heart. But this year, the album I've had on repeat is courtesy of Dave Barnes, though there are a few other standouts, like this one from Matt Wertz, and this one from Sara Bareilles, and this one, which I'd never heard of till I moved to London, but now I absolutely adore.

However, there's another song that I'm especially fond of. It's not the traditional Christmas song. In fact, it doesn't sound very Christmassy at all. But the lyrics are absolutely wonderful.

Have a listen (lyrics below):



---------------

The horse's hay beneath his head
Our Lord was born to a manger bed
That all whose wells run dry
Could drink of his supply.

To keep him warm, the sheep drew near,
So grateful for His coming here.
You come with news of grace;
Come to take my place.

The donkey whispered in his ear,
"Child, in 30-some-odd years,
You'll ride someone who looks like me
(Untriumphantly)."

The cardinals warbled a joyful song,
"He'll make right what man made wrong -
Bringing low the hills,
That the valleys might be filled."

Then "child", asked the birds ,
Well, aren't they lovely words we sing?"
The tiny baby laid there
without saying anything.

At a distance stood a mangy goat
With crooked teeth and a matted coat;
Weary eyes and worn
Whipped and twisted horns.

Thinking, "Maybe I'll make friends someday
with the cows and the hens and the rambouillet,
But for now, I'll keep away
I've got nothing smart to say."

There's a sign on the barn in the cabbage town:
"When the rain picks up and the sun goes down
Sinners, come inside;
With no money, come and buy.
No clever talk, nor a gift to bring
Requires our lowly, lovely king.
Come you empty handed, you don't need anything."

And the night was cool and clear as glass
With the sneaking snake in the garden grass,
Deep cried out to deep,
The disciples fast asleep.

And the snake perked up when he heard You ask,
"If you're willing that this cup might pass,
We could find our way back home
maybe start a family all our own."

"But does not the Father guide the Son?
Not my will, but Yours be done.
What else here to do?
What else me, but You?"

And the snake who'd held the world,
A stick, a carrot and a string
Was crushed beneath the foot
Of your not wanting anything.

---------------

I especially like the "come you, empty handed" bit, because that's what Christmas is all about, isn't it? Celebrating the fact that the world has received the ultimate gift. One that we don't have to work for. One that we couldn't earn, no matter how hard we tried. "For unto us a child is born; unto us, a son is given..." 
   

It's the Gospel, and it's beautiful.

Merry Christmas.

"Sorry."

I think the most commonly used word in the UK is the word "sorry." (Okay, so this might not necessarily be the case for London crowds, especially when you're using the Tube during peak hours, but whenever you get a British person one-on-one, it pretty much holds true.)

People say it all the time. Someone bumps into you? Sorry. You bump into them? They still say sorry. The culture is just terribly apologetic. People are generally very concerned with being polite. But you also occasionally get the feeling it's all very passive aggressive, and perhaps just for keeping up appearances -- and that because they're all trying so very hard to be polite, they are going to get particularly bothered if you're not. It's like the British have perfected this mentality of worrying about doing the right thing not because it's right, but because you're worried you'll be judged if you don't. So when I stumbled upon British Problems, I couldn't help but laugh.

Here are a few of my favorites:

-------------------- 

(image c/o buzzfeed)

I absent-mindedly walked into the kebab shop instead of the cafe next door. I couldn't very well admit my mistake and just walk out again, so I ended up having a kebab for lunch.

I feel that in the interests of british neighbourly spirit I should get to know my neighbours. But now that we've been living in our house 4 years it would be too weird if I was to suddenly pop round and introduce myself.

My Chilean friends actually take food when I offer it to them.

I thanked a woman for letting me use the self-checkout ahead of her but I was already ahead of her in the queue.

After spending 3 hours waiting in A&E yesterday to have my hand X-rayed over a suspected fracture, I apologised for wasting the nurse's time when it was only a major soft tissue tear. She said it was ok but I could tell she despised me.

I couldn't order the pastry that I wanted this morning as there was only one left and I didn't want to create any awkwardness with the customers behind me in case they wanted it.

I'm simultaneously relieved and offended when no one sits next to me on the bus.

At work, I'm constantly offered cups of tea or coffee or biscuits; I feel guilty for turning the offers down, but I don't want to seem greedy by taking the offers up.

I said 'thank you' as a warden handed me a parking ticket.

A man in the supermarket was browsing the food I wanted to browse, so I had to pretend to look at things I didn't even want until he left.

--------------------

And it's here that I should probably admit that this is one area where I feel at home. At least I'm not the only one standing awkwardly behind the old lady in the middle of the aisle who didn't hear me when I said 'sorry.' We'll all just wait patiently (and only slightly passive aggressively) together until she shuffles out of the way. 

Thanks for making me feel like I belong, England.

  

Frozen.

Apparently, there are a lot of spiders near my bus stop. I wasn't really aware of this until this morning, when it was so cold that their webs froze, and all of the sudden their presence was very noticeable. The webs that weren't perfectly formed (more like strands strewn all over the place) made it look like the bushes were covered in white silly string. 

Weird.

Anyway, I realized something as I was standing there shivering in the cold, looking at this frozen web: I'm gonna need to buy some thicker socks. 

Happy winter!

 

Don't lose your sense of wonder.

“I need wonder. I know that death is coming. I smell it in the wind, read it in the paper, watch it on television, and see it on the faces of the old. I need wonder to explain what is going to happen to me, what is going to happen to us when this thing is done, when our shift is over and our kids' kids are still on the earth listening to their crazy rap music. I need something mysterious to happen after I die. I need to be somewhere else after I die, somewhere with God, somewhere that wouldn't make any sense if it were explained to me right now. At the end of the day, when I am lying in bed and I know the chances of any of our theology being exactly right are a million to one, I need to know that God has things figured out, that if my math is wrong we are still going to be okay. And wonder is that feeling we get when we let go of our silly answers, our mapped out rules that we want God to follow. I don't think there is any better worship than wonder.”  -Don Miller

  

-----------------

The only time I ever wear a watch is when I go running. I keep the timer going because I can be a tad competitive, and I like to see if I can beat my previous time. When I go running, I don’t like to stop. But about two summers ago, I started stopping.

I was living in a small town in the Midwest. Just around the corner from my house were these wide open fields – mostly farmland, but occasionally grown over and untouched. I’d go for runs down that way in the evenings, especially during the summer, when it was still light well past 8pm. There was one stretch of road bordered by these giant flowering trees, and you could smell the flowers as you ran past. Fireflies frequented the area, and around the bend, you could pretty much guarantee you’d see deer – I once saw around 20 in one evening – along with the occasional family of skunks.

I always stopped for these things. I’d pause my timer and then try to catch a firefly or laugh at the baby skunks or pick a dandelion to wish on. I’m sure I looked silly, childish even, especially when I was chasing after those fireflies. But I didn’t mind.

I’ll gladly cross the street to walk in the sunshine. I’ll go out of my way to step on a crunchy looking leaf. Whenever I go outside at night, the first thing I’ll do is look up.

I don’t know what life’s like for you, but it seems to be going very quickly for me (how is it December already?), and it doesn’t look like it will be slowing down anytime soon. But I don’t care how rushed or busy or pressed for time I am, if I see a sunrise like the one I saw this morning, I’m going to stop. Because one of the best pieces of advice I’ve ever received is this: “Don’t lose your sense of wonder.”

And I don’t intend to.

 

Success.

Thanksgiving was wonderful. So much food and such wonderful friends. And the turkey was great, which was a total relief! Though I needn't have worried. Laurent and I are a pretty stellar team when it comes to kitchen-related endeavors.

Undisputed turkey champions of the world.

After we had eaten, we put some football on (American, of course) and just kind of laid around our living room. At one point, someone suggested games, but that got vetoed because we were all too full to move...which is how you know your Thanksgiving is a success: food-induced lethargy.

It was a lovely evening. I went to bed feeling very blessed.
 

Happy Thanksgiving!

Today was Thanksgiving, even though it didn't really feel like it.

I spent the day at work, because apparently England doesn't have anything to be thankful for. I would have much preferred to have spent it surrounded by family members while I ate myself into a food coma, like a true American. But alas.

I settled for this.

Did anyone else spend their Turkey Day at an Irish pub?

Not your traditional Thanksgiving meal, but at least it was tasty and shared with friends. Plus, I still have Saturday to look forward to, when we'll celebrate properly.

Happiest of Thanksgivings to you and yours.

Thanksgiving abroad (round two).

There is a turkey in my refrigerator -- my teeny tiny, shoebox of a refrigerator. I'm not sure how we fit it in there, what with the 5 individuals already sharing the cramped space, but it's there nonetheless.

   

It's there because it's Thanksgiving -- well, almost. Tomorrow is the actual holiday, but as the UK doesn't recognize it and therefore does not give you the day off, we're postponing our celebrations till the weekend. Because as anyone who's ever hosted Thanksgiving dinner can tell you, it's impossible to prepare the kind of feast warranted by this occasion unless you have an entire day to do it.

 

This is my second Thanksgiving abroad. Last year was kind of crazy, because (1) it was my first Thanksgiving away from home, (2) it was the first time I'd ever had to plan a Thanksgiving dinner, and (3) I had never made a turkey before. This year it isn't quite so intimidating, seeing as how it's not all new. Still, I kind of get nervous whenever I open my fridge and see that turkey sitting there, large and imposing, reminding me that I don't really know what I'm doing. But we pulled it off last year, so I'm pretty confident we'll be able to do it again.

 

And, even if nothing else goes right, we'll still have pie. I'm good at pie.

 

Happy Thanksgiving!

 

Time travel.

I'm convinced the closest thing we have (and perhaps will ever have) to time travel is music. In seconds, a song can take you back years. There are other things that trigger memories -- sights and smells and such -- but music has this rare ability to transport you back to a particular moment (or even particular people) from your past. 

It might be purely accidental. A song comes on the radio, one you haven't even thought of in ages, and all of the sudden you find yourself back in your hometown, riding in the bed of someone's pickup a couple days after your high school graduation, feeling that this night is somehow incredibly significant -- that soon, people will move and things will change, and that you should try to take it all in because someday in the distant future, you'll want to remember how things were.

And for those three minutes and thirty-four seconds, you do remember. And quite clearly.

Or maybe it's purposeful. You're missing your best friends, so you put on that CD you always used to play in the car when you made your weekly run to Sonic for happy hour, and the memories come flooding back and you can't help but smile as you sing along.

Regardless of how it happens, it happens. And it's a wonderful and incredible thing.

I put this on, for example, and it's suddenly 2006, and I'm getting the longest hug of my life, because we both know that as soon as we let go, one of us will be moving far far away.

  

And this will forever remind me of the summer of 2008 and asking if Penland was open and whether or not we should just go play volleyball at the SLC and order pizza.

 
  

This one (forgive me) makes me laugh, transported back to my graduation from Baylor, and how "the party don't start till I walk in" played as we pulled up to the ceremony.  

 

This makes me think of winter in Illinois -- watching the white slowly pile up against our window while we stayed inside and baked our way through the Snowpocalypse.

 

And this makes me think of dancing spontaneously in the kitchen, but only during the chorus, because once the verse hit we went back to nonchalantly tending to the pots on the stove.

There are so, so many more. And more often than not, they catch me by surprise. Not only that I remember all the words (which, by the way, how is that even possible?) but also how an event that hasn't crossed my mind in years is instantly brought to the forefront, crystal clear, with all the accompanying emotions. It's an incredible thing.

What songs take you back?

 

Wednesday randoms.

Well, I’m back in England, where there is significantly less sunshine. Here are a few Wednesday randoms:

 

The highs here have been around 45 (7ish degrees C), and I’ve been wearing tights and scarves for about two months now. But when I got off the plane in Dallas, there was sunshine galore, and at 85 degrees (30ish degrees C) I instantly realized I was wearing too many clothes for Texas.  

 

The UK changes their clocks back a week earlier than the US. And since I was in the US a week after the time changed, I got to fall back twice this year. Which is fine with me – I can use all the extra time/sleep I can get.

 

With the time change, the sun sets earlier these days. Pretty standard, right? Except here, because we’re so far north, that means that by 4:30pm, the sun is gone. It’s really sad having so little daylight.

I missed out on being in the States for the presidential election by one day. Not that I was particularly heartbroken by this (I’d already voted absentee). Watching even an hour of election coverage at the airport was enough to make me want to run away from all things political.

 

You know how we say “what’s-her-name” when we can’t remember a name? Well here, a lot of people just say “thingy.” As in, “I was just talking to thingy.” It’s not my favorite bit of terminology.

 

Great news! I went to Asda the other day in search of tea, and guess what I found. Cocoa. HERSHEY’S cocoa. I haven’t seen it anywhere else in this country, so that made my day.

  

There's no place like home[coming].

I'm sitting at work, smiling maniacally and buzzing like I just drank a lot of coffee. But I haven't had any coffee at all. This, my friends, is what you call a natural high.

 

I'm just so excited to be heading to Texas tomorrow! Why am I going, you ask? Because of this:

 

That's right. I get to go to Baylor Homecoming this year! 

Here's what I'm most excited about:

 

Driving -- I say this all the time, but I can't tell you how much I miss it. A car gives you so much freedom. Plus, where else am I supposed to sing loudly without fear of embarrassment?

 

Christmas -- But it's barely Halloween, you say? Well when you're not going home for the holidays, Christmas comes early for the ones you love. I've been planning, and I'm really excited to make people feel loved and special with an assortment of British goodies.

 

Football -- (American style.) When I was at Baylor, I never missed a home game. I've watched online, but it's been two years since I've actually been to a game. I can't wait.

 

Campus -- Apparently, a lot has changed around my alma mater. Still, I'm sure it will still feel like home. I'm excited to grab a cowboy coffee and walk the Bear Trail like old times.

 

Sunshine -- I've checked the forecast, and it's supposed to get into the mid 80s (that's 30 degrees for all you silly Celsius users). I haven't been that warm since my visit to Italy last June. To give you some perspective, our highs for London are expected to be 50 and below this week. God bless Texas and it's complete lack of regard for fall...even in November.

 

Food -- I've already made a list of all the restaurants that I absolutely must visit. Judging by what I've got down so far, it's possible that I could spend my entire trip eating. But that's a risk I'm willing to take.

 

Target -- I don't even need to buy anything. I just need to go. Don't judge.

 

And of course, friends and family -- To me, that's what Baylor Homecoming is all about. In fact, when my friends and I were interviewed at Baylor a few years ago by some local news crew, that's the answer I gave. That's also the answer Alexis gave, immediately following mine (I think she panicked). So the camera panned across our group as we listed off our favorite things about Homecoming, and it ended up sounding like this: "Football. Pigskin. Friends and family. Friends and...family." It was hilariously awful. I'm pretty sure we never ended up on TV.

 

-------------------------

The point is, I can't wait to get on that plane tomorrow. I absolutely love living in London. It's such a fun city, and I've met some incredible people who mean the world to me.

See what I mean? Lovely, wonderful people.

But there's just something about going home that makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. So all you lovely Texas people, get ready. I'm headed your way.
 
And I can't wait to hug you.

  

Pumpkin chocolate chip cookies.

It's officially fall. Time to bust out the coats, scarves, and pumpkin recipes. 

This is my favorite season for baking. And there's so much you can do with pumpkin. But despite the myriad of choices I faced when I pulled a dusty Libby's can from the depths of my cupboard, I knew exactly what I wanted to do with it.

These pumpkin chocolate chip cookies are exceptional. They're full of flavor and so soft that they're almost more like the top of a muffin than your standard cookie. And they're super simple. 

So grab yourself a can of Libby's, and whip these up on a crisp fall evening. Your kitchen will smell amazing, and your taste buds will thank you.

Pumpkin Chocolate Chip Cookies

(c/o Joy the Baker)

Ingredients:

2 cups flour

1 1/2 tsp baking powder

1 tsp baking soda

1/2 tsp salt

1 tsp cinnamon

1/4 tsp (heaping) nutmeg

1/4 tsp ground cloves

2 eggs

1 cup sugar

1/2 cup canola oil

1 cup canned pumpkin

1 tsp vanilla

1 cup chocolate chips

Directions:

Preheat the oven to 325 degrees F (160 degrees C). Line baking sheet with parchment paper, and spray with nonstick spray. 

Mix flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt, and spices in a medium bowl. 

In a large bowl, beat eggs and sugar until smooth. Then add the oil, pumpkin, and vanilla, and mix on a low speed until it's all blended together. 

Add the flour mixture, and stir until combined. Dough will be very similar to a muffin batter, but it should hold its shape when scooped.

Fold in the chocolate chips. 

 

Scoop out about 1/4 cup (or a large spoonful) of dough and place on prepared baking sheet. Leave at least 2 inches between each cookie, because they'll grow quite a bit in the oven. I think I only put 6 on my standard baking sheet. 

Bake for 13-15 minutes, until the tops are firm to the touch and they pass the toothpick test. Transfer to a wire rack to cool. 

Then, enjoy!

 

Note: I got about 18 cookies out of this recipe. I baked them last night, and currently there are only 3 left in my kitchen. So while these could hypothetically last about 4 days in an airtight container, expect them to be gone long before then.

  

Pink.

On the last Friday of every month, we have a dress down day at work. The purpose is twofold: (1) We get to wear more casual clothes, and (2) we have the opportunity to support a charity.

 
This month, our dress down day fell on "Wear it Pink Day," which is Breast Cancer Campaign's biggest fundraiser. So naturally, we've been asked to wear pink.

The problem is I don't own anything pink. Not a single thing.
 

Okay, that's a lie. My Hillsong Kids Team t-shirt is pink. But that's a little too casual for the office...even on a dress down day.
 

I couldn't just not wear pink, though, because I didn't want my office to think that I hated breast cancer awareness. That would be bad. So I went out and bought a simple fitted tee that was only slightly more expensive than a cup of coffee. Not bad.
 

Now, I should probably also mention that I've seen Mean Girls more times than I care to admit. So many times that I can quote it -- not just the memorable quotes, either. If you put that film on mute, I'm fairly confident I could recite the entire script as it played. Which means that, obviously, a slew of Mean Girls references came to mind when I found out we were supposed to wear pink. Especially since when we found out, one of the women in my office was upset because she happened to be wearing pink that day -- two days early. Now, if you're a Mean Girls fan, you probably know where I'm going with this. That's right. It was a Wednesday...
 

 
Anyway, what I'm trying to say is that things would be so much easier if I just had a Damien in my life to lend me a giant pink polo or something. Unfortunately, I don't.
 
Oh well. At least I got to wear jeans to the office.

 
Happy Friday!
  

Silver lining.

Mondays come much too quickly after Sundays. I think we should get at least two Sundays before Monday springs on us with its silly requirements like waking up early and actually getting dressed.

On this particular Monday, I'm hungry and sniffly and my throat is tickly and it's grey and foggy and I broke a nail this morning and my computer keeps asking me if I want to restart to install updates and I don't want to and I've still got to be at work for another 4 hours.

But. BUT.

I'm headed back to 'Merica in a week from Thursday.

Silver lining.
 

Wednesday randoms.

The other day, as I was getting ready to take my lunch break, I asked if it was raining. My coworker responded, "Well there are people going by with brollies up." What? Apparently "brollies" are umbrellas. Who knew?

 

This is kind of old news, but I still think it's wonderful. Thanks, Google.

 

I came home to this the other night. So thankful for sweet housemates who know that my love language is dessert.

 

Beautiful.

 

The problem (well one of the many problems) with cold weather is that it makes my hands shrink, which means that my rings start slipping and sliding all over the place whenever I type. I've readjusted the ring on my right hand 4 times while typing this. Weird, I know. Please tell me I'm not the only one...

 

I got my National Insurance number last week, so I'm officially official! Which means I get to...start paying taxes. Hooray.

 

The other day, one of my besties was talking about how it's weird working full time and that she was still trying to get used to this whole you only get a couple days off for Thanksgiving and Christmas. Well me, I'm still trying to get used to there is no Thanksgiving thing. And Halloween's not that big of a deal either. You pretty much just go straight into Christmas.

Seriously? But it's barely October.

 

It's terrible. I'm a huge proponent of letting each holiday have its own time, so I never do Christmassy until after Thanksgiving. But they started putting out the Christmas stuff at the beginning of October. Not cool.

 

I'm heading home for a little visit in just two weeks! Can't wait to see some of my favorite people in the world...and to eat some Mexican food.

 

Morning lessons.

You can learn a whole lot in just one morning. For example, just today...

1. I learned that if I accidentally turn off the wrong alarm, I'll sleep later than I should;
2. I learned that looking at the clock and panicking wakes me right up -- no coffee needed;
3. I learned that I can get ready (including packing lunch and having breakfast) in 20 minutes flat;
4. I learned that I can apply my makeup on the bus;
5. I learned that I don't want to sleep that late on a weekday ever again.

So much learning, and it's only 9:30am. 

 

Enjoy your Tuesday mornings, lovelies. Here's hoping they involve significantly less panic than mine.

  

So looking forward to fall.

You'll never believe what just happened.
 

You may remember my post from last year when I discovered that pumpkin spice lattes didn't exist in the UK, and I had to make my own. As cool (and tasty) as my homemade pumpkin spice lattes may have been, they just weren't the same.
 

Fast-forward one year.
 

I'm strolling down Sutton High Street during my lunch hour, and as I walk past Starbucks, I see this:
 

Isn't it beautiful?

 
The pumpkin spice latte is finally making its UK debut.
 

I stop and stare. I can't believe it. I'm so excited. I have to take a picture.
 

And while I'm taking a picture, one of the baristas walks out with a tray full of mini pumpkin spice lattes. Samples! I calmly walk (read: dash) over to her, where she's trying (and kind of failing) to explain what exactly it is she's serving to a bunch of people who have sadly never experienced the gloriousness that is contained within those itty bitty cups. I say, "Pumpkin spice latte?" and she answers with a nod. I then look at the confused individuals who are clearly hesitant to try it, and explain that they absolutely must have one -- that it is wonderful and will change their lives and that I've missed it so much ever since I moved here.
 

They were a bit bewildered by my unbridled enthusiasm, but that's fine.
 

And then I turned and walked away, sipping my pumpkin spice latte and so looking forward to fall.
 

I don't really like Mondays.

Monday gets a bad rap. No one really likes him (Monday is a male in my head). Poor guy. It's not his fault he's the first day back to reality after the weekend. But I've never really had a problem with Monday. I'm okay with getting up in the morning. I don't mind going to work. Monday is fine by me.

But not today.

Monday went all wrong for me today.  You see, I rely on two buses to get me to work. It usually takes about 40-45 minutes. That's fine, because I'm used to it, and it gives me time to read. Plus, it's actually quicker than the train.
  

But this morning, it was anything but quick. My first bus was 20 minutes late. Which meant that (because I get there about 10 minutes early, just in case) I was at the stop for half an hour. I was kind of okay with it though, because that bus only comes every 15 minutes, so I'm used to waiting for it. Plus, I still managed to get to the second bus stop by 8:35, so I figured I would make it in time.
 

This might be a good place to pause and explain that I seriously hate being late to anything. As in, I go out of my way to avoid it. As in, I plan well and I set loads of alarms.
  

And don't ask me why I never set my alarms
for regular times. I just don't.

So I'm waiting at the second bus stop expecting the bus to arrive any minute (because one comes every 8 minutes). And I'm waiting...and waiting...and waiting.
  

At this point, it's been 15 minutes, so I follow the instructions on the sign and text to find out when the next one is arriving. The reply says it will be another 13 minutes. What?? Not okay. I realize that there is no way I'll make it to work on time. Not only that, but I'm going to be seriously late.
  

Then I realize that I have no way of getting ahold of anyone from work to let them know what's going on. I semi-panic for about three minutes, and then text my housemate, begging her to look up the number for my workplace (because I don't have it, and since I spent a whopping £4 on my British phone, it doesn't have Internet capabilities). She heroically gets back to me with the number, and I call and let them know I'll be late. They're already well aware of this, as it's currently two minutes past when I'm supposed to be there, and I'm still standing at the bus stop. But at least I told them.

Finally, the bus arrives, and I get to work 30 minutes late. So I left my house at 7:40 and didn't get to work till 9:35. It was a super frustrating experience.

The point is, I don't really like Mondays anymore. At least not Monday mornings.

Hope your Monday went more smoothly than mine. 

  

Saturday in Surbiton.

Since I've submitted my dissertation, I haven't known what to do with myself. When I get home from work, I just kind of wander around the house aimlessly. In the back of my mind, I've got this feeling that I should be writing or editing or formatting, but I've got nothing to write or edit or format. 

Guess it's time to get a new book.

But I've decided that I should use my spare time to go exploring. I still don't really know this new area, even though I moved in three weeks ago. And pretty soon, it's going to start getting dark around 4pm. So I've got to get moving.

Saturday was a good day to wander around our town, as there was a little festival going on. It was sunny out, so we just strolled in and out of the little stalls lining the high street. There were crafts and food and entertainment. We stopped for several things.

The first was this puppet show. Punch and Judy. It was kind of weird. (Spoiler alert: Punch just beats up on Judy, and then the audience chastises him. What?) 

This is before Judy made her debut. Then things got violent.

The second was a stall where a little man in a funny hat was selling fudge. We bought three bags: coffee, mint chocolate, and chocolate and vanilla. Delicious. I'd post a picture, but we ate it already. Oops.

And finally, the street musicians. There was a gorgeous string quartet (with a really attractive cello player), and this cute little band of older men just jamming away.

Isn't that the best? The little kids near us were dancing up a storm, and we found we couldn't help but walk to the beat once we turned to leave. That tuba was just so catchy.

All in all, it was a lovely way to spend the afternoon.

Treat yourself.

So there's this saying that's been floating around the Internet lately:

I think it's supposed to be some sort of motivational/self control/weight loss mantra or something.

Well guess what. I'm not buying it.

Consider birthdays. People decided a long time ago that the best way to celebrate surviving another year was with cake. And ice cream. And (if you're from my neck of the woods) a piñata full of candy. 

 So of course I'm going to reward myself with food. I like food. And if I do something big like, say, finish my master's degree, I'm definitely going to treat myself to something beautiful and indulgent.

Something like this gorgeous Black Forest gâteau...

And I won't feel even the slightest bit sorry about it. Because what else would I reward myself with? And because taste buds are a blessing, so I'm going to make the most of them. And because dessert makes me happy.

I don't care that I'm not a dog. Besides, dogs can't have chocolate anyway.

So the next time that you do something that's worth celebrating, celebrate. Treat yourself. 

It's the right thing to do.

I'm all fidgety and I can't concentrate.

Y'all.

I just saw the printed version of my dissertation. Holy cow.

Let me tell you something. Seventy pages looks like a lot more in person than it does on the screen. And when I picked it up, it was heavy -- like the weight of my entire MA year was in my hands.
  

 

Dramatic? Maybe a bit (Actually, who am I kidding -- totally dramatic). But my goodness. I'm turning that sucker in tomorrow, and then I'm DONE.

Forever.

Sorry for overreacting, and for dragging you along with me. I just needed to have a little freak out...and freaking out by yourself is not half as fun as when other people are involved. So thanks for indulging my need to be a bit crazy this morning.

Also, in retrospect, that coffee I just drank may have been a bad decision. I'm all fidgety and I can't concentrate. I need to chill out.

I think that after I turn this in tomorrow, I might do a little dance right there in the postgrad office. Actually, probably not. But I'll be dancing like a fool on the inside. At the same time, I'll probably also be panicking. I just keep telling myself, it's okay. You're not going to fail. And then I think, what if I accidentally plagiarized the whole thing?! What if, somehow, I messed EVERYTHING up?! What if I do, in fact, FAIL?! Not possible, I know, but these are the things that dominate my thoughts.

That's normal, right?

Right...
  

Squiggly red lines.

As what some may call an overly grammar-conscious individual, I pride myself on my proofreading skills. I'm the kind of person who uses punctuation in text messages, and I never send an email without rereading it. So imagine my horror when I realiz(s)ed that, upon arriving in Britain, pretty much everything I'd ever written instantly became littered with spelling errors.

And it's all because British people spell things wrong weird. 

It really does make a difference.

 Consider, for example, the following words I had to change in a document, simply because it was drafted in our DC office, and we needed a UK version. The American spelling is listed first:

program v. programme

center v. centre

analyze v. analyse

color v. colour

revitalizing v. revitalising

pediatric v. paediatric

counseling v. counselling

mobilized v. mobilised

dispatched v. despatched

maximizes v. maximises

organizational v. organisational

You may have noticed that Brits don't really care for the letter 'z', but they are quite happy to add extra letters and move others around, often in blatant disregard of phonetics.

After a year here, most of which has been spent writing academic papers, I've grown accustomed to these silly spellings. Perhaps too accustomed, as I'll occasionally accidentally use a British spelling when writing to an American friend. (Incidentally, this always makes me feel like a bit of a traitor.) But I typically try to adjust my spelling based on who will be reading it. Kind of like how I talk football with my housemates, but soccer with my friends from home.

Anyway, many of these American spellings are widely accepted, even if they're not preferred. As I'm writing this with a UK spellcheck, the words center,  analyze, color, pediatric, and counseling all have squiggly red lines below them. However, the others aren't flagged as incorrect. 

This can be problematic, because sometimes when I'm editing things for work, I won't catch them -- either out of habit or ignorance (my untrained American eyes refuse to believe that 'program' is missing some letters.) -- and neither will spell check. 

And then I get made fun of.

But not anywhere near as much as the first time my coworkers heard me say the word, "y'all." That was a whole nother level of hilarity, my friends.

Happy Monday, and may your computer's spell check be ever more zealous than mine.