Happy Weekend!

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I've been out of school for two years now, but the past decade of intense education has left me with a slightly bipolar approach to weekends.  On the one hand, Saturday and Sunday are the only two days of the week that beg for leisurely mornings and decadent preceding nights.  On the other hand, I always spends those two days fleeing from seemingly necessary productivity.  The Damocles' sword of take-home essays and reading assignments has hung over my head for more than ten years, and even now - now that I have been a fully-fledged member of the workforce for longer than the length of my career as a post-graduate student - I cannot escape the feeling of needing to laissez les bon temps rouler as manically as possible before having to submit to the inevitable depression of finding myself at the dining room table at 8pm on Sunday evening trying to keep my eyelids open over Hildegard von Bingen.

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(Christine, that image is for you.  You're welcome.)

And then I remember, periodically throughout the weekend, that while I may have a list of errands to run, I don't have homework.  I.  Don't.  Have.  Homework.  Woop!

Which is why, at 8pm on a Sunday night, I am on the couch with a bowl of comfort food and at least two hours of Battlestar Galactica on the TV.  (Yes, I know it's nerdy - or geeky; I can never remember the difference between the two - but, seriously, it's like The West Wing in space.  And you know I love The West Wing.  Oh, Josh, how I miss thee...)

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Anyway, it's been a lovely weekend full of walks and brunches and afternoon teas as well as an epic grocery shopping trip to Waitrose and some cooking adventures (including a test-run of this recipe for turkey meatballs).  I hope you've enjoyed your weekend, too!

Frock Fridays

Alternate post title: Glee Girls Go Glam at the Golden Globes

(Say that ten times fast!)

Three frocks today!  Hello, fashion.

Lea Michelle - love the pale pink with her complexion and the romantic tendrilled updo highlights her bare collarbones and echoes the ruffles of the gown.  Really not a fan of that ring, but this feature is about dresses so it's cool.

Heather Morris - I absolutely lack an appreciation for minimalism, but if I liked it I would be besotted with you in this photo.  Such lovely clean lines with no fuss but somehow vaguely retro at the same time...

Dianna Agron - I've always thought that Dianna was the most Disney-princess-pretty of all the girls on the show, though it has always annoyed me that she's so aware of her cheekbones when she smiles.  She is absolutely playing to type here, but hey: if it ain't broke, don't fix it!

And, because this clip is just so freaking adorable, here's Chris Colfer winning a Golden Globe for Best Supporting Actor in a Whatever:

(All images via Google image searches)

Bad Blogger Award / Crazy Week

Phew - sorry I haven't blogged in so long, but this week has been a bit of a whirlwind!  (And no, I don't think there really is a "bad blogger award," but perhaps someone should make one for slackers like me.  Anyone creative out there?)

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On Monday I nabbed a ticket to see the sold-out Hamlet at the National but missed it because I wasn't able to leave work until 7:30pm.  (That's late for me; I'm usually out the door at the dot of six!)  I have heard mixed things about the production - although most of the negatives were passed along to me by theatre colleagues who have unusually discerning eyes - but everyone has agreed that Rory Kinnear was amazing as Hamlet and so I was really bummed.

Tuesday was the opening night at my theatre for our new play.  Without divulging too much detail about what it is I do or where I do it, let's just say this... yowza!  It was quite an evening, event-planning-wise, and so on that front I am very glad it's over.  The show, obviously, was amazing, and I'm really proud that we have it at our theatre.  We've been getting great feedback, which is always encouraging!  I managed to catch the last tube home after slipping out of the afterparty a bit early.

Wednesday night was a fundraising event elsewhere in London.  It was an incredible opportunity for us to share our mission and vision with our supporters - and, more importantly, with our potential future supporters - and so I'm so honored that we were able to take part.  But again I didn't make it home until after midnight.

Managing and hosting events is a necessary aspect of most development jobs, and I really do enjoy it - my OCD isn't happy unless I'm the one planning things and my love of being a social butterfly means I can schmooze like a champ - but I have to admit that it's exhausting, especially two nights in a row!  I came home last night and just absolutely crashed.

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Is it possible that I'm champagned out after the past week?  Nah... and a good thing, too, because tonight promises a lovely dinner out with three other fab expat bloggers (hello, ladies!) and their significant others and we'll naturally be starting the evening with a little something bubbly.

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Wouldn't you?

It's Official...

I have S.A.D.  I know, I denied it just last week - I diagnosed myself with the winter blues.  But no, actually, I think I have Seasonal Affective Disorder for real.

This morning I woke up at 9:30am (very impressive, dontcha think?) and was so energized when I looked out the window and saw blue sky and sun.  Like, immediately energized.  I jumped out of bed and practically skipped to the kitchen to make tea.  I whizzed around the flat tidying things and folding clean laundry and emptying little rubbish bins into the superduper kitchen bin.  I was on fire.  The sun was out and I was a lark, ready to carpe diem like never before.

Jon, however, was still in bed.  And every time he cracked his sleepy eyelids open and saw me flitting past he begged me to come back under the covers.  "No," I cried, "the sun's out!  It's time to get up!  Let's start the day!"  But he was very persistent and, finally, I leapt gracefully back into bed for a quick cuddle.  I closed my eyes... and opened them fifteen minutes later to discover that something was very, horribly, terribly wrong.

The sun was gone.

Gone!

In just fifteen minutes, grey clouds had scurried like rats from the dark and wet and gloomy place in which they hide and had oppressed the sun.

I was devastated.

Seriously.  I don't know if I can describe how depressed I became.  It took me another hour to drag myself out of bed - all I wanted to do was hide under the covers and grump at people.  (Sorry, Jon.)

I'm now planted in the café at the V&A, which is usually one of my happy places, trying to cheer myself up.

It's not working.

Yargh.

Easiest Chocolate Cake

I don't know about you guys, but I find that it's so easy to get stuck into an evening rut.  If I don't have something planned, something constructive planned, my evening routine goes like this:

1. check blogs
2. make pasta
3. eat pasta
4. write blog post
5. catch up on American TV

But if I have something planned, anything planned, even something as simple as trying a new recipe for dinner, the whole evening ends up being productive.

Exhibit A: last night.  John's dad came over for dinner to talk about the wedding - John's getting married in September and Jon and Sam are the best men- and so I was up and running from the moment I stepped in the door.  I wasn't in charge of the meal, but since we had company I had my game face on for the whole evening.  Even after John's dad left I was still on form and so I decided, in true Betsy fashion, to bake a cake.

And then, because the cake was very thin and lonely, I decided to make a second layer.  And then, because if you're going to bake a layer cake you might as well go all out, I made third layer.

The really extraordinary thing about this (if I do say so myself) is that I found what must be the most basic chocolate cake recipe out there on the web.  It smells delish and I'm sure it will taste even more so - how can you go wrong with this kind of simplicity?  I had everything in my fridge already; it didn't take any special ingredients.  (And yes, Christine, buttermilk and sour cream are special.  Don't give me that whole wide-eyed "oh, I just happened to have almond paste in my pantry" crap.  Sike, you know I love you.)

So without further ado, I give you Sweet Paul's Easy Chocolate Cake:

1 stick melted butter
1 cup sugar
2 eggs
1 tsp vanilla extract
4 tbs cocoa
3/4 c flour

Combine the melted butter and the sugar.  Stir in the two eggs.  Add the vanilla, cocoa, and flour and mix all together until - well, until it looks like cake batter.  Pour the batter into a buttered cake pan (I used an 8x8 tin which resulted in thin but beautiful layers) and bake at 160*c for 30 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted into the middle comes out clean.  I'm using Betty Crocker chocolate frosting between the layers because I'm too lazy to make my own, but Sweet Paul suggests just dusting the top of the cake with powdered sugar.  Serve and enjoy!

(There're only one meager photo here because I ran out of frosting and will have to pick up some more on the way to work to finish the cake - it's a work in progress!  Think it might be awkward if I bring the cake to work, frost it in the kitchen, and then take it away to be eaten at tonight's rehearsal?  Nah...)

S.A.D.

No, I'm not unhappy; I have the winter blues.

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The appropriately-acronymed S.A.D. stands for Seasonal Affective Disorder.  The NHS defines it, roughly, as a September-April depression, the symptoms of which include a low mood, a loss of interest in ordinary things, being less active, putting on weight, and sleeping more.

(Personally, for the last three: check, check, and check.)

Okay, I don't seriously think I have S.A.D.  Winter blues, maybe, but not actually full-blown depression.

That being said, I can see how you could easily slip into S.A.D. at 51*30'N latitude, which is where London rests.  It's dark when I wake up at 7:30am, and even on the sunniest of days twilight begins around 4pm.  (Trying to describe the sunniest of days in London in the winter, by the way, is like explaining the intelligence of a Jersey Shore cast member: it's all relative.)  Yes, we've passed the winter solstice, which means that - technically - the days are getting longer, but I haven't noticed.  I just live in hope.

Apparently S.A.D. affects approximately 7% of the UK population, and sufferers are disproportionately women in their 20s.  (Check and check, but who's keeping track?)

Remedies - if you can call them that; I would argue that the only realistic cure for S.A.D. is hibernating till spring, though I think that my boss would disagree with this - include light therapy, psychotherapy, and medication.  Or you could just pray for spring to come quickly.  (Does the UK believe in Groundhog Day?)  I know that I'll be dreaming of this until April...

Thailand, summer 2009

In all seriousness, though, if you think you suffer from S.A.D. please do some Googling to find support groups and/or professional help.

Monday Laugh

Okay, I have something funny for this morning: this is my first full week of work since the week of 13 December 2010.

Ha!  Ha!  Ha.... oh, man, I might cry.

Excel Hero blog

All jokes aside, actually, my last act at the office last week was configuring this Excel formula:

=IF(AND(R2="yes",L2<>"Have a Word"),M2-(0.05*M2))+IF(AND(R2="yes",L2="Have a Word"),M2-(0.1*M2))

I AM AN EXCEL GODDESS. Bow before me.

Every Meal Deserves Something Sweet

Case in point: today's brunch, which starred Smitten Kitchen's recipe for caramel cake.

Yeah, that's cool, you can come over next weekend.  But I may have moved on to this...

The Cost of Living in London

Warning: if you don't want to think about how expensive London is or you don't care to know how I'm dealing with being a grown-up, don't read this post.

Obviously I've been struggling a bit with what this blog is and why I write it, but one of the things I know for sure - and am proud of - is that this is a resource for current and future expats.  Because of that, and even though I know that Nana will disapprove of this, I'm going to share some of my finances with you so that you - you who might be contemplating a move to London in the near future or are already here and are trying to figure all of this out - might gain some insight into what it's like to live in London from a financial perspective.

RENT: £390/month
Luckily, my rent is extremely low, in part because I'm one of four people in a three-bed flat.  Three things to keep in mind when renting in London: south of the river is cheaper than north, flat-sharing is cheaper than living on your own, and up-and-coming neighborhoods are cheaper than trendy ones.  I check all of these boxes, and therefore am not bled dry by my rent payments.

COUNCIL TAX: £37.50/month
Council tax is essentially a property tax used to fund social services in the borough in which you live.  Things to keep in mind about council tax: if you live in a house/flat inhabited only by students, you don't have to pay - but if there's even one non-student in the house, pay you must!  Also, it's important to note when flat-hunting that council tax varies by borough.  Wandsworth, where I live, has the cheapest council tax in all of England.

TRANSPORTATION: £106/month
Friends with cars argue that driving through London is cheaper than taking public transportation, even with the congestion charge that was added recently.  I'm tempted to agree with them.  Public transportation costs vary based on which kind of travelcard you use (I have an Oyster, which I would recommend to anyone living in London) and in which zones you travel (I generally stay within zones 1 and 2 - basically, central London).  It's really a necessary cost of living in a city, but one that makes me grit my teeth every time I pay it!

GAS/ELECTRICITY: £15/month
Our next gas/electricity bill will be much higher per person per month as this figure is based on what we've been paying August-December and therefore doesn't include the serious months of oh-my-God-it's-so-cold-and-we-need-the-heat-on-all-the-time gas usage.

INTERNET: £10/month
I had nothing to do with setting up the internet in our flat, so I can't tell you anything about what the options are or why we chose whatever it is that we use!  Sorry.

WATER: £10/month

TV LICENSE: £36.10/year
If you watch or record TV programs as they're being shown on TV, you must, by law, be covered by a TV license, no matter what device you're using.  For more information, click here.

MOBILE: £30/month
As I mentioned before, my Blackberry came free with a £30/month contract.  Actually, this month's bill came to £39, but that's because I called internationally more than usual.  (What, it was Christmas - I wanted to speak to my family!)

HEALTH INSURANCE: free!
Except for the snafu with my face, I love the NHS.  Thank you, socialism.

HOME INSURANCE: £4/month

Other expenses - food, drink, entertainment, etc. - will vary based on your desired lifestyle, so I won't post them here as we all have different priorities.

Please keep in mind that all of these costs are just what I personally pay; depending on where you are or what your standard of living is, your costs will change.  Also, please don't take this as struck in stone!  This is just meant as a guide to what sort of costs you might come across while living in London.  I hope it's useful!

(If you have any questions, please leave me a comment - and if you live here and have insights, please do the same!  I'd love to start a dialogue about this.)

Shameless plug: my friend Adam runs an amazing website about investing - check it out if you want to spend and save more wisely!

And I Said, "Hey...

... what a wonderful kind of day!"

Oh, Arthur, how I miss thee.

I am in a stellar mood.  Stellar, I tell you.  My face feels okay - even yesterday it wasn't nearly as bad as I feared, though I totally milked it so that Jon would take care of me.  And take care of me he did!  He was the Westley to my Buttercup.  ("Nothing gave Buttercup as much pleasure as ordering Westley around... That day, she was amazed to discover that when he was saying, 'As you wish,' what he meant was, 'I love you.'  And even more amazing was the day she realized she truly loved him back.")

The sun is out - wonder of wonder, miracle of miracles - and I'm going to my favorite Bea's of Bloomsbury for lunch with an old friend.  The rest of the day will be errands and cleaning the house and finally finishing all the New Year's cards I promised you so long ago.  A pretty nice little Saturday!

I hope you all have a wonderful weekend ahead of you, filled with leisurely teas and rambling walks and snatched drinks and an hour or two to get lost in a museum and perhaps a visit to the sales...

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Frock Fridays

Okay, this has nothing to do with frocks at all, but I love me some Polyvore and I thought you'd like to know what death warmed over looks like.  And by "death warmed over" I mean "me post-op for the next thirty-six hours."  (You know how I roll.)

[ bathrobe / pants / top / moccasins / socks / hot water bottle / mug ]

To The Doctor I Go

The contents of my fridge: cottage cheese, chocolate mousse, and matzoh ball soup.

homemade chicken soup (nom)

Why?

Because today I'm having oral surgery to remove the metal from my gum.  I'd be more excited if I were getting laughing gas - most fun experience at the dentist ever; thank you, Dr. Loewinger - but I'll be under IV sedation.  I'm actually kind of nervous.  Last time I was sedated for oral surgery was three years ago when a dumbass doctor left a piece of drill in my mouth while taking out my wisdom teeth, and I had a really nasty time coming out from under the anesthetic.

Jon's on nurse duty for the whole weekend.  (My hero!)  Wish him luck.  He probably needs it more than I do - I have a funny feeling that I'm going to be a very whiny patient.

If A Blog Falls in the Forest...

... and no one's there to read it, does it still make a sound?

Okay, maybe that doesn't work.  But you know what I mean.

Yes - oh yes - this is the introspective post of destiny.  You saw it coming from a mile away, didn't you?  You clever thing!

(Editor's note: this post has been written and deleted and written and deleted and then prematurely posted - apologies if you read that [expletive] - and then written and deleted and, finally written and posted.  There's no going back now, dear readers.)

When we were younger, my sister was way cooler than I was.  Sarah was a queen bee in high school, and while she and I were and are close, we wouldn't have traveled in the same circles.  I didn't mind this, for the most part, but there was one thing about her that I really envied: whenever I had to stay at home instead of going out with my friends I always felt like I was missing out, whereas I always got the feeling that when Sarah was stuck with the family she felt that her friends were missing out.

I suppose you could say that this indicated that I lacked self-esteem or self-confidence, but I really didn't.  I've always sort of thought I was the cat's pajamas.  I still do, actually.

But I think that what worried me then - and what worries me now in the blogging world - is that no one else knows.  I'm worried that I'm just writing for me, that I'm not reaching anyone, that no one's listening.  

And then that worry is multiplied exponentially because the need to write for others beyond myself isn't selfless in this case - it's selfish.  And who wants to be selfish?  Not this pair of feline nightwear, no sir.

But I think that, in some way, I knew this might happen.  In my very first post on this blog, I wrote:

I don’t know what this new blog will be – a creative and literary exercise more than anything else, possibly. But as much as I may be blogging for myself, I am also blogging for you. I want to share myself with you, though you may be far away; I want you to be part of this new life that I am making regardless of your personal geography.

So this leads me to ask: why isn't it enough to blog for myself?  Why do I have to blog for you?  You're not asking for my words.  (Okay, chers grandparents, maybe you are.  And you, Christian.  But you're very special exceptions!)  Sometimes I think that there are so many tens of thousands - maybe hundreds of thousands - of blogs out there and I wonder if mine makes a dent.

But then I get frustrated with myself because it shouldn't matter if my blog is read as long as I get something out of writing it.  Right?  But it does matter.

Which brings us back to my story about Sarah.  I shouldn't think that I'm missing out if my blog isn't being read.  I should think that my readers, non-existent or otherwise, are the ones missing out.  

Let's go back a bit further to the original question: if a blog falls in the forest and no one's there to read it, does it still make a sound?

Nicole on Hollaback Health - by the way, many thanks to the inimitable Marie for introducing me to this site - wrote a post on the psychology behind blogging.  I definitely relate to the "identity" section.  Nicole asks, "Do you feel satisfaction from blogging?  What need are you satisfying?"

I would say that I absolutely do feel satisfaction from blogging.  When I blog, I satisfy my need to have a creative outlet, as I indicated in that first blog post.  But blogging also satisfies my need to have a voice.  No, more than that - it satisfies my need to be heard.

But what happens if I'm not being heard?  Is blogging still satisfying?

What's the point in having a voice if no one listens to it?

I don't know.  I really don't know.

I'm not going to stop blogging, don't worry.  I think my need to have a voice and my need to be heard will ensure that I blog away with entrepreneurial zeal.  But this all is definitely raising some serious questions for me.

Yargh.

(Here endeth the introspective post of destiny.)

On The Twelfth Day of Christmas...

Well, folks, this is it.  Christmas ends tonight.  The decorations have been put away, the tree has been relegated to the balcony, and, worst of all, my iTunes have gone back to the Taylor Swift playlist.  (No offence, Tay Tay.  I love you.)

I hope you all had a wonderful holiday season, no matter where in the world you were!  I've loved reading all your stories on your blogs - thanks so much for sharing.

Onwards and upwards!

But wait.  Before we go anywhere, since I'm loath to let Christmas really and truly be over, let's enjoy my favorite part of the song:

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My precious...

Monday Laugh

Do you remember 2010?  No?  Me neither.  But apparently (according to Dave Barry, whose speaking fees are so high that... wow, I'm not going to finish that sentence because if I do the Tea Party will collectively come to force me to renounce my American citizenship for being unbelievably elitist - by the way, please don't tell them that I went Ivy for college or they'll send me to Alaska to be rehabilitated as a real American with real American values) 2010 did happen.  And, if Dave Barry's Year in Review in the Washington Post is to believed, it happened for twelve whole months.  Yowza, what a year!

Hello Two Thousand Eleven!

Well, kids, it's a new year!  Welcome to 2011.  In the three days since 2010 ended, I have composed a dozen blog posts in my head - and they've stayed there, safely locked away, biding their time.  2011 has so far been all about Clipper Sleep Easy tea, season three of True Blood, my amazing new hot water bottle, and the couch.  Heaven.  But now that I'm out of tea and am kind of over vampires - though never over Alexander Skarsgard, the love of my life - I figure it's time to grace the new year with a blog post.  Beware, though: I'm still editing the Post of Introspection (capitals definitely necessary, natch) and so this is going to be a bit of a fluffy one.

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The party on Friday night was a blast - we had about 25 friends over and we all ate yummy desserts and drank skittles bombs and danced out hearts out.  The men looked sharp...

flatmates Sam, Jon, and John

and the women looked fabulous...

and the sweets looked delicious.

I really have barely left the house since Friday - it's a Bank Holiday today, dontcha know - so I don't have much more to report.  Except!  Except.  Today I put on my crafty hat and finished making the New Year's cards I promised you.  Voila:

Yay so pretty!  Martha ain't got nothin' on this homegirl.  Woop!