Thanksgiving.

It is very odd for it to be Black Friday, and yet everything is normal. People have work and class, no one is out boosting the economy, it's just a normal day.

Thanksgiving was a rousing success yesterday. We had invited about 10 North Americans (and my Indian and Mauritian flatmates) over and asked them to help out with side dishes, but K (my Bostonian flatmate) and I took on the brunt of everything else that is THANKSGIVING. I tackled turkey, stuffing, and a salad; she handled desserts. And it was fabulous. Really, really fabulous.

Not to toot my own culinary horn, but the stuffing I invented? It's probably going to make appearances at future holiday meals. Yes, Virginia, it was that good. And I can't lie, the turkey wasn't second-rate either. But the food isn't the important part. Because at the end of the day, there was something so incredibly satisfying about pulling off hosting a major holiday. And to top that, about making it a real holiday for my American (and Canadian) friends here when we're all so far away from home. It didn't feel like it was a lame collection of foods and people, just because we thought we should get together for Thanksgiving. It felt like Thanksgiving. It felt like a bonafide celebration of a major holiday, and it wasn't until I went to get in bed (at 3am) that I realized that I just did Thanksgiving without my family.

That's not to say I didn't miss everyone. Because I did. But this was good too. Thanksgiving with my little expat family. I think we did America proud last night.

I also now understand the sheer terror and panic my mom and Tata seem to have whenever they throw something like this. I spent the entire day freaking out that there was no way I'd have enough food. I was worried about people being hungry, running out of meat, running out of everything. And at the end of the night, we just had way, way too much food leftover. I made three huge turkey breasts. We only got through one and a half of them. Which I think made all the boys happy when I sent them home with tupperwares full of turkey. I'm leaving for France tomorrow. I didn't want it all to go bad!

As dinner parties have a tendency to do, by the end of the night, it was just the small, core group of us left, sitting around the kitchen, talking, drinking, and picking at the food. And one of my American friends (from North Jersey) said that we will all always remember this Thanksgiving, because we'll never have another like it again. And he was right (there's a chance it choked me up a bit, but in my defense, I'd also been on my feet cooking for six hours, was disgustingly full, and 3/4 of the way through a bottle of Australian chardonnay). Family Thanksgivings will come and go, but for this being everyone's first Thanksgiving outside of the States? It was special. Really special. I'll stop before I get cornier.

But I was so thankful it ended up being a good evening. I'd been so frustrated earlier in the week, trying to shop for Thanksgiving in a country where it doesn't exist. I had to go to four shops to find fresh sage. I couldn't find cornbread (for my stuffing) anywhere, and eventually had to settle for brioche (which ended up being the BEST SUBSTITUTE EVER and from here on out, I will forever make my stuffing with brioche). And then I couldn't seem to snag a whole turkey (not a fresh one, anyway), just whole chickens, so I had to buy three humongous turkey breasts instead. I was hitting a bit of a wall, in terms of missing the States (yes, it happens!) and having a Thanksgiving away from family looming over my head. I'd been a bit bah-humbug about it all. But the turning point was in line at Woolworth's yesterday, waiting to pay for my paper plates, tupperwear, and additional cooking supplies, realizing there American kids in line behind me doing the exact same thing. Undergrads, trying to muddle their way through their first Thanksgiving away from home too. And we talked for a minute about how to cook gravy, exchanged Happy Thanksgivings, and it was a nice moment.

Still, as wonderful as last night was, I am over the moon to be going home for Christmas!

Getting ready to start cooking, early Thursday afternoon.

Trying to get into the spirit of things.

It wasn't a whole bird, but it was a hell of a lot of meat.

K prepping the apples for her delicious Apple-Walnut Crisp.

The base for my stuffing.

A bit blurry, but the turkey in the oven.

Again, blurry, but the finished turkey!

Resting turkey, with mashed potatoes and gravy on the stove.

FOOD! And that's not even everything. Notice the pack of Miller on the table -- we thought it would be appropriate, given the Americanness of the holiday. It was that or Bud; there's only so much American beer you can get over here at the corner Tesco.

My stuffing. Definitely not healthy though. Chock full of butter and buttermilk. Paula Deen would be so proud!

Myself and K at the end of the night, having changed into pajamas once everyone but a select few friends had left. Proof that if we can live together, host Thanksgiving together, and sit side by side, that all ethnic and religious groups really should be able to get along. World peace, ACC-style!

It was a most auspicious occasion indeed; even the legendary fox of Kelvinhaugh Gate made a Thanksgiving appearance! I like to pretend he's a magical fox. Though he's a bit of a rude one; we tossed food down to him and he ignored it, and just went sniffing around in the trash. Who turns down my turkey? I mean, really now.

Overall? A phenomenal holiday!

And now I pack because I have a morning flight to Paris tomorrow!

Frequent flier miles.

I am very, very excited because we have a guest speaker tonight for class, and it's Marina Lewycka, who wrote A Short History of Tractors in Ukrainian! We've had a bunch of guest speakers this term, but no prominent, modern novelists. Especially not ones I actually LIKE! So I am happy and looking forward to class!

This weekend is my Paris trip. Three days and two nights in the City of Light to mark my entrance into the world 27 years ago. I'm over the moon that I'm going, but I really wish it wasn't going to be the worst Parisian weather weekend ever while I'm there. Freezing cold and raining. Sound familiar? I don't mind the cold, but it would be nice to have a respite from the rain for even a couple days.

Next term (and summer), I'd like to try to hit the following locations: Florence, Vienna, Krakow, Ljubljana, Copenhagen, Barcelona, Budapest, Stockholm, Prague, and Berlin. I realize that maybe only two or three of these will be possible, but a girl can dream, can't she? RyanAir, with its £10 flights, makes traveling so easy here.

We are hosting a Thanksgiving here at my flat for a bunch of other Americans (and my Indian and Russian flatmates). It's potluck, so there's not too much stress involved for me, but I'm on turkey duty, so I'm a tad bit nervous. And I'm nervous about relinquishing culinary control. If I had it my way (and had both the financial and kitchen resources), I'd love to do Thanksgiving 100% myself. But I'm poor and have no pots/pans/utensils. So potluck it is.

I fly back to the States two weeks from tomorrow. In someways, it feels like I just left, and I think it's because my core group of friends ended up being American (there are so many Americans in both my housing complex and my program). So I don't feel very removed. Though I do feel removed from Chipotle. And Target.

Paris, je t'aime (I hope).

Who is going to Paris next weekend for her birthday?

THIS GIRL IS!!!!!!!!!!!!

Those exclamation points don't do my excitement justice!

Glasgow is one of those places where the weather is so bad that on days when it is not raining, that automatically signals Glaswegians to live it up like it's summer.

Case in point: all the people wearing shorts and t-shirts today. The high (the high!) is 9°C (or 48°F for the uninitiated). It's not exactly balmy and tropical. But it isn't raining. And the sun is out. Therefore, SHORTS!

Mockery aside, it's lovely out. But it's strange to have it so lovely out at 3pm and to know that all that loveliness will be gone in about an hour's time. Since I live more or less up at the North Pole where there is 1.5 hours of sun each day.

Boo.

I really like living in Scotland. It's a wonderful place full of wonderful people.

But I am sick today.

And all I want is some GD chicken noodle soup and crackers. I'm not even shooting for the moon here by thinking I should be so lucky to find chicken and stars. I just want chicken noodle soup.

Tesco?

Has neither.

No chicken noodle. There is chicken and vegetables. There is chicken broth. There is cock-a-leekie, which has (in addition to a funny name) chicken, carrots, and rice. But no chicken noodle.

The crackers didn't exist in any form. PRINGLES was the closest I could find to crackers. No saltines. No Triscuits. No Ritz. They just didn't have crackers.

So the moral of the story is that tonight, when I am sick, I really miss being in the States.

The end.

(Don't) stop this train...

The days have started to get incredibly short here in Glasgow, and it's now pretty much dark by 4pm. It takes some adjustment, but isn't as bad as I thought it was going to be.

I was down in London this weekend, which was fabulous and made me momentarily pause and want to scream, "AFTER GRADUATION, I AM SO MOVING DOWN HERE!", because hello, it's London. But when I got back to Glasgow, I had this great feeling of being home. And it was a really nice thing to feel. And made not feel as desperate to move to London.

Oh, silly Glasgow, with your bad weather, insane football teams, unintelligible accent, crack-laced soft drink, smelly air, archaic subway system, and your Neds. I heart you. I really do, Glasgow. You and I will be friends for a very long time.

But back to London. I flew down and then took the train back up from King's Cross. And I love King's Cross. Mainly because it's so historic and you feel like you can see Mrs. Pevensie waving goodbye to her children during WWII as she loads them onto a train to send them away from London and the Blitz. But really, because of Harry Potter. It would be a total lie if I said I didn't get minorly giddy being in the station. I play it cool and don't go running over to Platform 9 3/4, but the Superdork part of me is always on guard, looking around and listening, just in case.

ALSO, I very much had a HPCOS moment there (albeit in the tube station and not the main rail station) when I went thump into the barrier at the exit and couldn't get through. Except it wasn't because of magic. I just hadn't put enough money on my card. Sorry, Dobby.

The train ride up from London to Glasgow is fantastic. It cuts straight up through Peterborough, then into Yorkshire and York, before continuing up to Newcastle, where it cuts across the Tyne on a high bridge where you can see all the other bridges, and then follows the coast for about an hour or so. And I mean "follows the coast" in the most literal sense. The rail is on a cliff overlooking the North Sea. It is spectacular.

And so I took pictures:

Somewhere in Yorkshire.

The North Sea. This photo does not do it justice.

Back in Scotland.

So it's a six hour train journey, but a really beautiful six hours. Plus, on trains in the UK, they have free wifi, and you are free to eat and drink it up. The cafe car has a bar and hot food, and you can bring your own booze, as I happily learned when a stag party got on and invaded my car in Edinburgh and I spent the rest of the journey to Glasgow sipping champagne with them.

On a slightly different topic, you know what's incredibly underrated? CABBAGE. It gets no love. But really, it should. A little extra virgin olive oil, garlic, lemon juice, and onion sauteed with the cabbage? Delish!

This is our now...

The election came and went, and we are still standing.

As a nation.

I, however, am not so much.

As late as it was for Americans, add five hours to that. And you'll get an idea of what we were dealing with here. California didn't report until 4am our time; Obama didn't speak until 5am. When I walked in my door (after having spent the election with a group of Scottish friends at their flat), it was 6:30am. By the time I got in the bed, 7am.

Needless to say, I was dragging a bit today.

But it was worth it. I've never felt hope and optimism like this in my adult life, not from a political standpoint. It's my third election and the first two didn't go so well. But this one went so much better than expected. As an Ohio voter, to watch that state turn blue meant everything. It was the first time this election that I actually believed things could change and that Americans were capable of getting it right. And as swing state after swing state turned blue, it was such a feeling of euphoria. And proof that despite the bumps along the way, this still is the greatest nation in the world, capable of progress and change more than any other country. It was only 54 years ago that Brown vs. Board of Ed desegregated schools. 41 since Loving vs. Virgina took away states' rights to place racial restrictions on marriage. In Barack Obama's lifetime, there were states that outlawed interracial marriage. For him to now be president, to have won over that very state of Virginia says so much about this country's ability to grow, change, and reinvent itself. It was never going to be easy, but the point is that we're still moving forward and still progressing and still doing what has to be done to get this country back on track.

To say it was an emotional night is an understatement. The tears have been mainly of happiness, but also just of overwhelm. They've been springing up at random times, such as walking down Kelvin Way to class this evening. I'm sure the people around me thought I was crazy.

If I'm being honest, for the past eight years, whether in Canada or the UK, there's always been a bit of chagrin when someone asks where I'm from. I almost feel the need the apologize for being American and for what my country has done the past two presidential terms. But today, I feel so damn proud. I am American. It's a good feeling to have this kind of pride and belief in your country and your leader elect.

Additionally, if I'm being honest, it's incredibly hard to stay up till 7am, get five hours of sleep past that, and then have to go to a Joyce seminar for two hours. When your brain is barely thinking straight to begin with and you're so tired you're having difficulty tying your shoes, having to pretend to discuss (and pretend that you finished) Portrait of the Artist is a bit difficult. When the class broke down even further into a discussion of semi-colons and whether or not they're the "whores of punctuation," my brain was ready to explode. Because, semi-colons, really? I love my semi-colons, but it was all a bit much to process.

That's what we do in grad school. We debate individual marks of punctuation for hours. I feel like the joke's on me sometimes, for paying for this. Though in all seriousness, to be lectured on Joyce by one of the most important Joyce scholars in the UK is pretty awesome. Especially when he's hilarious and doesn't take the material too seriously. The English department runs a "Finnegan's Lunch" series, where you bring your lunch and the scholars read and break down Finnegan's Wake for an hour, page by page. I have no interest in Joyce, but our lecturer (also the head of the entire English department) is so awesome that I might start attending.

Because I was too tired to cook, I snagged chicken enchiladas at the postgrad club. It's actually the most decent "Mexican" food in Glasgow. Cheapest, too. £3 for a huge plate, and chips and guac.

It is Guy Fawkes Night. There are fireworks over the Clyde and a 1-1- Celtic draw with Man U in the Champions League. Today has been a good day.

I'm a mouse... duh!

I have been a very negligent blogger over the past week, week and a half.

In summary:

• The election is tomorrow. Oh, I wish the whole world was on GMT, because this is going to be a brutal all-nighter.

• It's officially gotten cold here in Glasgow, and officially hat, gloves, scarf weather. This isn't a bad thing, just a fact of life.
  

• Halloween was quite excellent, and this city knows how to do it up big. It's not like in the States where people put on a set of ears and a slutty dress and call it a costume. People here really go all out with the fancy dress. We're talking elaborate, intricate costumes. It's tons of fun. We ended up doing the ultimate bar/party crawl, hitting no less than five stops across town. Glasgow definitely deserves its reputation as a great party town.
  

• Today's plan of Operation: Change Mobile Provider failed miserably, because apparently to keep my same number, I have to get some code from TalkMobile, and then take that to O2 (or Orange, haven't decided yet). At least... I think that was it. The guy at the O2 store on Sauchiehall had one of the heaviest Glaswegian accents I've heard yet. I was just kind of smiling and nodding politely, and the I rushed, "OkayI'llcomebacktomorrow" and just ran out of there. Because I couldn't understand the poor guy for the life of me.
  

• That being said, I had a realization the other day that I've gotten to a point where not only can I understand most Glaswegian accents (obviously, aside from Charlie's at the O2 store on Sauchiehall), and some Scots here and there (yep, it's a different language!), but I can also pick out Scottish accents based on location! I can tell a Glasgwegian accent from an Edinburghian one. I can pick out northerners and say, "You must be from Aberdeen or Inverness!" I can tell someone's from Ayr because it means I can't understand a word they say!
  

• I have a little over a month until I'm back in the States. Honestly, it feels like I just got here. Walking down Byres Road last home, home from M&S, I suddenly got a bit sad that I won't be here for Christmastime to see everything all lit up. I'm so excited to be going home, but a part of me wishes I could do both.
  

• I was so very excited to order my Phillies World Series Champions t-shirt, until it came up with a $56 delivery fee to the UK. So I guess I'm going to have to wait until I go home then.
  

• There is no Mexican food in this city. There are places that say they make Mexican food, but there is no Mexican food. The closest I've come is M&S's guacamole. Which isn't horrible, if it's the only option. But man, oh man. I cannot wait for Chipotle. Tacos for everyone!
  

• My crazy, romantic plan of spending the weekend of my 27th birthday in Paris has been momentarily shelved.
  

• The shine is wearing off of Glasgow, and it's just starting to feel normal. And homey. This is a wonderful feeling!

• ...now if only I could get the bus system down. I miss the simplicity of SEPTA, where buses run in normal directions, like east to west or north to south.
  

• Thursday I head down to London for the weekend.
  

• And school is going well!

That's it, in a nutshell!