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.

 

Peach pie.

Summer is over. I think we had about two weeks of it here in London. On one of those rare summery days, I wandered past a fruit stand that was absolutely overflowing with peaches.

So I decided to make a pie.

Peach pie

(recipe c/o smitten kitchen)

Ingredients: 
Crust

2 1/2 cups flour
1 tbsp granulated
1 tsp salt
1 cup (225 grams) unsalted butter, cold
1/2 cup cold water

Filling

6 large peaches
1 tablespoon lemon juice
1/4 cup sugar (or up to 1/3 cup, if you prefer sweeter pies)

1/4 cup brown sugar (same as above)
1/8 tsp cinnamon
Dash of nutmeg
1/8 tsp salt
3 tbsp cornstarch
1 tbsp milk
1 tbsp sugar

 

Directions:

Dough

Combine flour, sugar and salt in a large bowl. Work cold butter into mixture (using your hands is the easiest way). You'll want small pieces of butter -- I'd suggest freezing it and then using a cheese grater. It'll give you a flakier crust.  

Stir in the ice water and mix until the dough begins to pull together. Knead a couple times and form into a ball. Divide the dough in half and flatten into two discs. Wrap each in plastic wrap and chill for at least an hour (but you can leave it in there up to two days, or freeze for up to 2 months). 

Filling

You'll need to peel the peaches. But before you grab that paring knife, check this out! Bring a large pot of water to a boil, and also prepare an ice bath. Then, using a sharp knife, make a small X on the bottom of each peach. Place peaches into boiling water, and poach for 2 minutes. Remove from the boiling water and put immediately into ice bath to cool for one minute. When you take them out of the ice water, the skin should slip right off. It's amazing, I tell you.

Halve the peaches and remove the pits. Then slice into 1/3 inch slices and measure out about 6 cups. Feel free to snack on the leftovers as you bake. 

In a large bowl, toss peach slices with lemon juice. Combine sugar, brown sugar, cinnamon, nutmeg, salt and cornstarch in a small bowl. Add to bowl of peaches and toss to coat.

Assembly

Preheat oven to 425 degrees F (218 C). 

Generously flour your work surface. Put one disc of pie dough in the middle and flour it too. Roll your dough out from the center. Go slowly, or it will crack. Every few rolls, lift dough up and rotate a little. Repeat until you've got a 12-13 inch circle. Add more flour as needed (you shouldn't have any dough sticking to the counter or your rolling pin, and if it gets too soft, pop it back in the freezer for a minute before resuming the rolling). 

Transfer your dough by folding into quarters (without creasing!). Place the folded quarter in your pie dish and gently unfold it out over the base. Trim away excess dough (you need about an inch overhang). 

Spoon filling pie-lined dish, making sure to get all the juices. 

Roll out the other disc of dough. For a lattice top, cut into 1/2 - 1 inch strips. Place strips across pie filling in one direction. Fold back every other strip and add a strip going in the other direction. Fold strips back down across the filling. Then fold the others back and place another strip across them. Repeat until you've got a full lattice top. Trim the strips till they're even with the dish (no overhang). Fold the overhang of the bottom crust up over the lattice strips and crimp. 

Brush the top crust with milk, and sprinkle generously with sugar.

Bake for about 20 minutes until crust is beginning to brown. Then reduce heat to 375 degrees F (190 C) and bake for another 30 - 40 minutes. If the crust browns too quickly, cover it with foil until the pie is completely done baking. 

Cool for three hours. Yes, this is a long time. But it's mandatory, if you don't want your pie filling to flood out of the crust when you cut into it. It must be fully cool before it's fully thickened. 

Then top with ice cream, and serve!

 

A bold and dashing adventure.

One year. One whole year.

That's how long it's been since I moved to London. And it's been the fastest year of my life. I hope things slow down soon so that I can really appreciate them. But somehow I don't see that happening.

Just over a year ago, I went for Chinese with my mom. This was after I finished my last day of the job I had while I lived in Illinois. It was my last day, because I was moving back to New Mexico. I was moving back to New Mexico, because I was getting ready to move to London. 

I remember being a mess of emotions the whole meal. I couldn't believe that I'd be going abroad in just over a month. It was simultaneously exciting and terrifying. And when they brought out our fortune cookies, this is what mine said:

Prior to this, my most meaningful fortune cookie read, "Your place in life is in the driver's seat."
This was right after I passed my driving test.

It was perfectly appropriate. And it couldn't have been more accurate. This entire year really has been a bold and dashing adventure. One year later, I'm still in London -- this time around, much more settled and confident, but still very excited and occasionally terrified. 

But mostly excited.
 

Reading over shoulders.

I spend a lot of time on trains, so I figure I might as well get some reading done. The problem is, I don't currently have any books I haven't read. So I read other people's. 

Luckily, there's also a never ending supply of newspapers.

I like to see if I can figure out what book it is just by the first few sentences of wherever they happen to be in the story. I usually can't. But every so often, I figure it out before they turn the page.

After a while, I started keeping track. Here's some excerpts from what commuting Londoners are reading these days. See how many you recognize.

-----------------
He ought to have explained more fully about the Dementors, about how he had fallen over, about how both he and Dudley had nearly been kissed.

Maybe I'll do a shout-out to Willow.

Could she only bring herself to dispense with the lot of them?

More days than not, he's out there fighting someone.

"That's very broadminded of you."

Dozens of faces immediately buried themselves back in their work.

"Poor Liz," I say and I am suddenly overwhelmed with pity for her.

Si vous faites la moindre résistance, je vous tue avec les pistolets que voici.

"But you do not consider how it may appear to the Coles."

As soon as Petra finished talking I stood up and took her in my arms.

She'd had to force herself to stick to the rules of the grounding.

I was beginning to feel very tired and emotional.

Crying is not an option.

Royce and Hadrian glanced nervously at each other.

"Even them," Professor Martin said, sounding sleepy from all the wine.

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

I only knew like 3 out of all those, but I was still pretty proud. How many did you get? 

(And Googling is cheating, people).

 

  

Biscuiterie.

This is perhaps the most magical thing I've stumbled upon since I moved to London. 

A biscuiterie. I didn't even know these things existed. Basically, it was giant selection of decadent pastries (think pistachio creme filled cannoli) that stretched on for days. It was beautiful.

You got to pick and mix to your heart's desire, and then you paid by weight. (And if there was one near me, I'm sure I'd pay by weight gained as well.) It made my day.

The sweet little French man who ran it barely spoke English, so you just knew it was going to be good. And right where the selection of biscuits ended, a creperie began. Glorious.

Needless to say, I'll be visiting again soon.