I've moved.

I'm back in the States. Texas, to be exact, where the tea is sweeter and the sun is hotter and people don't look at you funny if you say "y'all."

My first stop was New Mexico, the Land of Enchantment and the Land Where I Grew Up.  I got to spend time with my family and read books in the sun. It was lovely.

O Fair New Mexico

Then I got a job in Texas, so I packed up all my stuff (again) and headed out to the Lone Star State.

Up before the sun and hitting the road.

That's where I am now. It's a weird mix of new and familiar, since it's close to where I went to school, but it's entirely different from where I've lived the past few years. Still, it's good. And I'm happy to finally be here. After all this moving, it's nice to finally stay put. 

At least for a while.

A new job and a new state calls for a new blog. So, from now on, you can find me here.

London, it was fun. You were wonderful, and I miss you already. 

Texas, let's do this.

Happy International Women's Day.

It was dark.

As I was getting on the bus, he said, “You know, you could get off at Broomfield instead.”

Oh wait, let me explain. I was heading home. I usually time it so that I can catch another bus that will deposit me pretty much directly in front of my house. But I had missed that bus, which meant having to walk from King Charles Road – about 15 minutes from my house. Not that a fifteen minute walk is bad. In fact, I actually enjoy fifteen (and more) minute walks, and more often than not, I choose them over the bus.

But it was dark.

“It’s a bit shorter walk from there,” he said, knowing that I was wearing heels and wasn’t particularly looking forward to a long trek.

“Is it well lit?” Those were the first words out of my mouth. After dark was not the time to go exploring on my own.

It’s depressing that I even have to think about that, but it’s typically the aspect that holds the most weight when it comes to making a decision like this. Because when I say, “Is it well lit?” what I mean is, “I don’t feel safe.”

And I don’t. Why? Because I’m a girl.

No, I’ve never been approached by a threatening individual while walking home by myself, let alone attacked by one. But I know the numbers, and I don’t want to end up a statistic. So every time I get off that bus and it’s dark and I’m alone, I walk quickly, eyes straight ahead, ears alert, and praising the good Lord above for the streetlights that make me feel a little safer. My heart races when I hear a rustling behind me, and I cross the street if a group of scary-looking guys is coming my way. I go through imaginary situations in my head: determining how quickly I could dial the police; whether I’d knock on the door of the nearest house instead of leading him to where I live; where I’d run if I had to; how hard I’d fight if it came down to it.

I realize all of this is incredibly depressing, but I would find it hard to believe that I’m the only girl who has these thoughts.

Whenever some creepy guy honks at me or hollers as I walk by, it doesn’t give me an ego boost or help my self-esteem. No. Usually it makes me want to scream, “I’m not just here for you to look at! I’m a person too!” Other times I just want to curl up in a ball and hide, because I feel disgusting and ashamed…despite the fact that I haven’t done anything wrong. And then I read articles about rape t-shirts and erotisizing violence, and (of course) The Sun, and my chest tightens and my throat constricts in a swirl of anger and frustration and indignation and terrible, terrible sadness.

Because the truth is that, regardless of how far we’ve come as a society, there is still this pervasive idea that while mothers/sisters/daughters are worth loving, protecting, and even respecting, there’s a whole mess of other women – usually those with whom we have no personal connections – who are nothing more than boobs and butts. It might not always be explicit or conscious, but it’s certainly there, and it leaves its mark.

Look, I know that not all men are creepers and rapists. On the contrary, I am blessed beyond belief to have so many amazing, supportive, kind, and caring men in my life – men who believe in me and encourage me and remind me that I am valued for way more than just my looks. And I also know that women (myself included) are often just as guilty when it comes to judging worth solely on physical appearance.

It’s just that when I got online this morning, Google informed me that today is International Women’s Day. However, unlike so many other days honoring a particular group of individuals (e.g. Mother’s Day, Father’s Day, etc.), it seems that International Women's Day is not primarily celebratory. It is combative. The theme of today is not the celebration of women and their accomplishments, but rather the ending of the gender-based violence of which they are so often victims. Did you know that up to 70% of women in the world report having experienced physical and/or sexual violence at some point in their lifetime? Or that there are over 600 million women who live in countries where domestic violence isn’t considered a crime? And before you start formulating images of far-off, distant, and culturally backward lands, consider that one in six American women has been the victim of an attempted or completed rape.
 
These statistics were still fresh in my mind when I saw a man reading The Sun on the bus to work this morning. Staring up at me was the Page 3 Girl, in all her topless glory, reminding me that despite my opinions and interests and my master’s degree; despite my right to drive and vote and run for office; despite my living in a ‘progressive’ and ‘egalitarian’ society, it’s apparently still entirely acceptable to reduce me to a pair of breasts. And not many people would even bat an eye. It got me thinking, Then it got me writing, which is how this long-winded post was born.

So while I’d much rather write about fluffy, sunshiney, chocolate-covered things, this is currently weighing heavy on my heart, and I needed to get it out. It ended up turning into a full-blown essay. If you’ve made it this far, I’m impressed.

Thanks for listening.

Playing tourist: View from the top.

It was sunny in London (what?), so we went on the Eye.

This is what we saw:

Strawberry Banana Pancakes

Do you know what's frustrating? Being nostalgic for the present. Inadvertently anticipating the inevitable. A kind of pre-sentimental sentimentality. That's where I keep finding myself lately. I haven't even left yet, and somehow I already miss London.

 

It's like I'm acutely aware that these moments are fleeting and that when they are gone, I will miss them terribly. So I jump the gun and end up feeling all sentimental about the eventual absence of people and places and things that are still right in front of me.

 

It is perfectly fine to mourn the end of an era...but only at the end of that era. I'm still here. This is silly. This is no way to live. This calls for comfort food. Specifically, pancakes.

 

The amount of time it takes to make and eat pancakes is pretty much the perfect amount of time to allow myself to sit in this too-soon sentimentality. It's okay to be a little sad. But don't stay there. Make yourself some pancakes. Then eat up, man up, and move on.

 

Let's save the tears for the plane ride back, shall we? It's always more fun to cry in a cramped public space anyway, right? Riiiiiiight... 
 
Strawberry Banana Pancakes 

 
Ingredients:

3/4 cups flour

1 1/2 tbsp sugar

1/2 tbsp baking powder

1/4 tsp salt

just over 1/2 cup milk

1/4 stick (28 g) melted butter

1 egg

A dash of vanilla
1 banana, thinly sliced
handful of strawberries, thinly sliced

Directions:

Combine dry ingredients in a medium bowl and set aside.

Whisk together milk, butter, egg and vanilla in a smaller bowl. Make sure the milk isn't cold or it will cause the butter to re-solidify (is that a word?) and make life and whisking very frustrating. I usually just melt the butter with the milk and let it cool a bit before adding the egg and vanilla.
 

 
Add the wet ingredients to the dry ingredients, and mix until just combined. 

Heat a pan over medium heat. Grease before spooning the batter into it. Add banana and strawberry slices as you see fit, making sure to press them down into the batter a bit so they stay tucked into the pancake when it's flipped. Once bubbles start to form and burst in the middle of the pancake, you'll know it's time to turn it. It'll only take about half as long to cook on the other side. 

Stack sky high and serve warm with plenty of butter and cinnamon. 
 

Simply perfect (and perfectly simple) brownies.

Sometimes situations go awry, and no amount of plan B's or C's or LMNOP's can make things work out the way you'd like. It's just part of life, I suppose. People will tell you not to let it get to you -- that there's something better coming and everything will be okay and just wait and see. 
 

Easier said than done, right?
 

Waiting and seeing is really hard. I’m more comfortable with movement, so sitting still in the tension of not knowing isn’t exactly my cup of tea. In fact, it stresses me out. 
 

In times like these, I fight back with butter and sugar. All this waiting and seeing may mean that I'm not able to make plans or move forward, but at least I can make brownies. And while that might not actually solve any of my problems, it certainly helps soothe them.
 

Bring it on, life. I've got chocolate chips, and I know how to use them.

  
Simply perfect (and perfectly simple) brownies

  

Ingredients:

3/4 cup flour

1/4 tsp baking soda

1/4 tsp salt

1/3 cups (75g) butter

3/4 cup sugar

2 tbsp water

1 ½ cup semisweet chocolate chips, separated

1 tsp vanilla  

2 eggs 

1/2 cup chopped nuts (optional)

 

Directions:

Preheat the oven to 325 F (160 C). Then grease and flour (I use cocoa instead) an 8x8 inch pan. If you want super easy removal and cleanup, line the pan with parchment paper. It's a wonderful invention.
 

Combine flour, baking soda, and salt in a small bowl and set aside. 
  

In a large saucepan, melt butter with the sugar and water. Bring just to a boil and then remove from heat. Stir in 1 cup of chocolate chips. Add vanilla extract and allow to cool till it's only just warm.

Whisk in the eggs one at a time, and mix well after each addition. Stir in the flour mixture, and then add the remaining ½ cup of chocolate chips and the nuts.

Pour into a greased 8x8 pan, and bake for 25-35 minutes. Check them at around 20 to make sure you don't overbake -- dry brownies are a tragedy. Then remove from oven and cool before serving.

 

Playing tourist: Day trip

Windsor Castle, Stonehenge, and Bath...in one day.

Windsor Castle is the Queen's residence. It's gigantic, old, and lovely. And it has some of the most crazy beautiful interior decorating I've ever seen. Unfortunately, it also has a strict no photo policy inside the castle, so you don't get to see any of that. But the exterior is nice too.

As our tour guide said, "When we get to Stonehenge, some of you will be having deep and profound thoughts, while others of you shiver and drink coffee. It means different things to different people."

Bath is such a pretty little town. And we were lucky enough to see it in the sunshine. It's famous for its hot springs (and the Roman baths that made use of them), but I was probably most enamored with the impressive stone architecture.

Snow.

Heathrow cancelled almost 400 flights, trains were delayed, and panic ensued this weekend, as London was crippled by a fierce snowstorm that brought the city its first snow this year.

Now, based on the chaos it caused, you might be picturing something like this:

  

Notice that the ground floor apartments are barely visible...

But you would be wrong. That picture is the entrance to my apartment complex in Illinois after the Snowpocalypse that hit our area and surrounding states a couple of years ago. We got a foot of snow in one afternoon, and I still went to work the next day.

No, this was the snowfall that wreaked havoc throughout London over the weekend:

A whopping several inches. Enough snow to make a footprint, and yet somehow enough to cause Europe’s busiest airport to grind to a halt.

Still, snow does make London look particularly picturesque. My parents were in town, and we decided to brave the “blizzard” and play tourist while the rest of the city hid indoors. 

I’m glad we did, because this is what we saw:

Isn't it lovely? It certainly makes winter feel worthwhile.

 

CTRL+Z

I've never been a big celebrator of New Year's. My family just never got into it. And I guess I don't really understand the hype either -- this concept that at the first of the year, all our mistakes are washed away and somehow we magically get a fresh new start; a blank page. As if there's something special about this particular stroke of midnight. As if it's a reset button. CTRL+Z.  

Nope, not buying it.

Sounds cynical? Let me explain.

I don't think new beginnings are reserved for the start of the year. I think they're always up for grabs, if you want them. Worst month of your life? Well guess what: the next one is full of potential. You made a mistake today? Tomorrow is your chance to get it right. Your morning was terrible? This afternoon is going to be full of sunshine.

Tennyson said, "Hope smiles from the threshold of the year to come, whispering 'it will be happier...'" And he was right. But why stop there? Sure, there's hope for the new year. But it's for the whole new year. You don't need to wait till the first of January to believe for better days.

Let's be hopeful the whole year through.
 

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.