Home is Where the Heart is

Soldier: 'You're a mouse!'
Reepicheep: 'You people have no imagination!'
-Prince Caspian, C S Lewis

 

Being from Texas, I often get questioned about life there. People tend to use the same questions everyone else asks. Such as:

"Do you own a gun?"
"I bet you support George Bush."
::After looking at my feet:: "You aren't wearing cowboy boots. Do you own any?"
"Do you live in the desert?!"
"Know any cowboys?"

Although I do not mind answering these questions, occasionally I get bored of the repetitiveness. I must admit, I feel a bit like Reepicheep. Thanks a lot Hollywood.

However, this past weekend (Halloween for those of you living under a majorly sheltered rock), I was the recipient of a completely unexpected, but welcomed comment on my home state.

Just to set the stage a little, I went to a friend's flatwarming/Halloween party on Saturday night. I decided to go as a Redneck as opposed to the 50's style I wore at the Halloween ceilidh Friday night:

Notice the Confederate flag on my arm :) I went all out.

I also wore shorts, my cowboy boots and I had my plaid shirt tied up.

I met several new people at this party. They were all thrilled and amused when they discovered I was, in fact, from Texas. One girl, from Poland, got really excited and then exclaimed (here is the unexpected comment):

"You're from Texas? Oh! That's awesome! Isn't Sheldon Cooper from The Big Bang Theory from Texas?"

I was stunned at this comment. It was the last thing I expected to come out of her mouth. Once the shock subsided, I chuckled and confirmed her claim. I was thrilled that someone had finally thought outside the box--or at least outside of an old western movie. I do believe I shall go as far as to say:

Best. Comment-On-My-Home-State. Ever.

Apparently, home is where Sheldon Cooper is from, and I couldn't be happier about this fact.

“Sweet Home Alab—err—Edinburgh?”

 “Sweet Home Alabama, where the skies are so blue.”-Lynyrd Skynyrd

This past Sunday I spent much of the day studying for a Phonology Test-the same test I am taking a break studying from right now. Sunday afternoon, I met a couple of friends at the student center to study phonology together. Several hours later and a few frustrated statements later, we concluded that we have a better grasp of the subject and should celebrate. One friend said there was a live band playing at a pub (Finnegan’s Wake) that was supposed to be pretty good. The rest of us agreed to join her later in the evening.

So at 10 that night I joined the small, but fun group at Finnegan’s Wake, not knowing what to expect. I had discovered from one of my flatmates that it was an Irish Pub, and that it was.  Irish flags and signs filled the pub. The band (Absent Friends) eventually came on stage to perform. They were an Irish group playing Irish folk songs. I really enjoyed them and the music was fantastic. Occasionally I would recognize a song, including Galway Girl, Christmas in New York, and other songs from (what I soon realized) “P.S. I Love You.” Sadly the performers were older and not near as cute as Gerard Butler, but it was fun nonetheless.

Not a very good picture, but that's Absent Friends playing Christmas in New York.

Then out of the blue, the intro to Sweet Home Alabama started playing. This is where embarrassment on my part nearly ensued. In Texas, OBU, a car filled with my friends, and basically any concert I go to, when Sweet Home Alabama starts to play, one automatically begins raising his/her arms in the air and cheers. Loudly. We are trained at an early age to do this. As my mom pointed out, it’s a bit like Sheldon trying to train Penny by giving her chocolates (Big Bang Theory). Apparently they don’t do this custom here, and if they do, they don’t do it at Finnegan’s Wake. So there I was, the lone Texan, thrilled that SHA was playing, I began to slowly raise my hands and gradually my cheer gets louder. Thankfully, being me, in large crowds, I attempt to be quieter than the loudest person in the room. As my cheer began getting louder, I quickly realized no one else in the room was getting louder, nor did anyone else have their arms raised. My arms were only half raised, so I quickly dropped them back down and immediately stopped cheering before I got too loud and people started staring. Rather red in the face, I opted for the option of just singing quietly. For the record, everyone in the room was singing, they just were not trained to cheer.

When other songs came on I knew, I sang no louder than the loudest person in the room. But there were quite a few songs were sung that I was not expecting, including Hotel California, Summer of ’69, and Don’t Stop Believing. Overall, it was a wonderful break from studying, and I plan to return to Finnegan’s Wake to enjoy some live music from time to time. Oh, Sweet Home Edinburgh, where the skies are occasionally blue.

"These aren't the droids you're looking for"

-Star Wars, Obi-Wan Kenobi

I tend to be a rather calm, easy-going person (unless we're talking about my future or exams/papers, then I'm sent straight into stress, naurotic, psycho mode). I "go-with-the-flow" and do whatever my friends want to do (which makes it difficult when it's my turn to pick what video game to play/where to eat/etc.).

However, on occasion, I can be really stubborn. Very stubborn, in fact. However my occasional stubborness tends to rear its ugly head out at the worst opportunities. It rarely comes out at a time where I can later say "hey, I'm glad I was stubborn that day. It worked out for the best." No. It comes out where afterwards I can do nothing but hang my head in shame.

One of these moments happened over a week ago.

I am a big fan of queso. In particular, I love my friend's dad's recipe for queso. Best queso in the world in my opinion. Back at OBU, a couple of us would go to Wal-Mart just so we could get the ingredience for said cheese dip because we just HAD to have it.

And then I moved to Scotland. As much as I love Scotland, there are a few key ingredients missing from their shops that would make this queso-craving Texan appeased.

1. They have no velveeta.
2. Nor do they have rotel.
3. No sausage chopped up like in Jimmy Dean's packages (at least not that I could find)

But on this particular day, I did not care. I wanted queso, so I was going to make queso. My mom and I had discussed before on what I could use instead of velveeta, but we never could find something that would work. Mom said cheddar would not work, because it would not melt correctly. I later asked my UK friends what kind of cheese would melt nice and smooth-like. They suggested cheddar.

I reconsidered what my mom had said. Perhaps cheddar cheese would be a decent replacement for the velveeta. Why not? So I went to the store and bought cheddar cheese and a jar of chopped up tomatoes, thinking it would suffice for rotel. I was thrilled when I found another ingredient: cream of mushroom soup.

I told my mom what I was planning after I had returned home. She told me that it probably would not work. Cheddar was not a good substitution, but if I insisted, use milk to make it melt better.

And this is where my stubborn side reared its ugly little head. Instead of heeding my mom's warning of it won't work, I went to the kitchen and started to melt the cheese, bound and determined to make this queso. I even put a little bit of milk in there. As it was melting, I cooked the hamburger meat (I used it instead of sausage that I couldn't find) and put some garlic salt on it to add flavor to it because it has no flavor compared to sausage. I looked over at the cheese... and it was melting, but it was all stringy when I picked my spoon up, not at all what cheese dip should be like. Never fear! I'll put a bit more milk in and the chopped up tomatoes! That'll help!

Or...not... It kept getting worse and worse and looked very unappetizing. But I was still stubborn. I was craving that queso. So I went ahead and put in the cream of mushroom soup. This is where the next problem occured. While in the States the cream of mushroom soup helps thicken the queso, here in Scotland the soup is a bit, well, soupier than I was used to. So it really didn't help at all, but rather made the not queso even less appetizing. But determined I was. I put the seasonings in the cheese dip, as well as the garlic-seasoned hamburger meat.

I then tried to taste this thing that definately was not cheese dip out. I dipped the chip in, pulled it out and the cheese was too stringy that most of it just plopped back into the pan. So I dipped it back in, finally got some to stay and tasted it. Hmmm. Needs more seasoning.

See the chunks of cheese that should not be there? blech

So I poured a lot more seasoning into it. And I mean a lot. I then tried it again, this time getting a bit of hamburger meat. In my mouth was an explosion of flavors--and not in a good way. Garlic with chilli powder, cumin, hot sauce, and cheese? Not too great.

Finally, my stubborness went away and all that was left was me hanging my head in shame at the sad attempt to bring some of home to the kitchen. Later that evening, I just threw it all out. My mom was right. Cheddar was definately not a good equivalent for velveeta.

But the story ends well enough. I got a care package from mom a few days later. In it was velveeta and two jars of rotel. Hurrah!

So, for now on when I attempt to find a substitute for Velveeta, please wave your hand in front of me and tell my stubborness (that has most likely risen its ugly head again) that "this isn't the cheese you're looking for. No, seriously. Put it down. It isn't the cheese you're looking for."

“From there to here, from here to there, funny things are everywhere!” -Dr Seuss

So I've finally gotten a blog. I've not quite decided how to run one yet. The best I've got is my blog from my Junior year in high school where I was basically depressed all the time and needed to blow off some steam (What can I say... my close friend had just died.) This time around things will have more humor as I account the absurdities that happen to me or that I naively do. The world should have plenty of ammo to make me into a bumbling baboon as I'm living in Edinburgh, Scotland at the moment (I LOVE this place!).

I should probably warn you, my humor is weird and not many people get it. Occasionally when I'm attempting at humor, a person will think I'm complaining. I promise I'm not! I'm just trying to get a giggle to lighten the mood. Obviously I still need to work at the humor. I have my amazing parents to thank for my odd sense of humor. No, seriously. You should talk to them sometime. Strangers don't know what to do with them. It's awesome :)

So a few quick things about me in case you've happened upon this blog and don't have a clue who I am, but not enough info to where in case you do not, in fact, know me, you can't go all stalker and follow me on the streets:

1. The major part about me is I am a Christian, a follower of Christ, a Believer, been saved by Grace. My relationship with my Lord and Savior is the most important thing to me. Christ is always there for me. Even in the hardest times, He is there helping me stand back up.
2. I am studying for my masters in English Language at the University of Edinburgh. I love it so far.
3. I am an optimist.
4. I love penguins. Petting a penguin is on my bucket list. Here's a picture of some penguins I saw at the Edinburgh Zoo. The zoo let them out once a day to go on a little march around the area, but only if the penguins want to. Only 6 decided to join up that day, but it was awesome:

Are they not just the cutest things?!

5. I love Harry Potter. Books. Movies (though not as good as books). Theme Park. All of it. I have recently gotten into Pottermore. I was sorted into Hufflepuff. I am probably one of the few thrilled by this.

Luna is definately my favorite character in the series and one of my top ten favorite characters of all books I've read. My favorite of the series is Prisoner of Azkaban. I want a Hippogriff! I do own a Pygmy Puff, though! His name is Fred. Say hi to Fred!

I feel like Fred could give the penguins a run for their money on cutest thing ever.

That's enough about me for now. I'll try to update weekly about my adventures, but the posts could come in waves. Have a nice evening, Texas, and a nice night, Scotland!