I haven't found a great way to make tortilla chips at home -- I think the secret to those must be deep frying -- so I recently wanted an easy, salty alternative. When in Scotland, eat tatties, right? In the age of kids who can't recognize a potato, but know french fries when they see them, it's easy to forget that some of our favorite snacks are really easy to make. This is especially important to remember when your flat is 60 stairs up and you are too lazy to go to the store.

Ingredients:
a potato
a splash of vegetable oil
salt*

I didn't bother to peel the potato. Instead, just take a cheese grater and use the slicer part of it to slice up the tattie. Put the tatties on a towel for about 20 minutes to dry them out -- this helps them to get crispy and not shrink as much. Then take a lightly greased (with the vegetable oil) baking sheet, and spread out your potato slices. It's best if they don't touch each other. Bake for 12-15 at 500* Fahrenheit, sprinkle salt, and you have non-processed and delicious potato chips.

I'm always looking for easy vegetarian recipes, so feel free to suggest yours.

*If you're low-sodium, leave out the salt. If you get the chips crispy enough, you don't miss the salt. And this is coming from a salt-o-phile.)

It's not surprising that I have over-committed myself during my supposed year of leisure. Maybe I'm jealous of David's syllabi (oh, wouldst that someone would write ME a syllabi!) or maybe I just can't be still. Of course, it's both. I want to take time to write and create, knowing that this is probably the only year I have an excuse to really do that ... unless I succomb and join a PhD programme or something.

This week I've got two articles due for actual publications and one for a travel blog, which I suppose is also a publication of some sort. Between the prose-writing, I've got:
12 piano lessons to teach,
10 songs to memorize
4 rehearsals for...
3 different bands,
2 performances (you should come to the cabaret on Thursday at Voodoo Rooms),
1 ceilidh-calling lesson to attend (it's for a band I'm singing with), and
1 show to watch of this other band I'll eventually be singing in.

Not to mention all the fabulous blogs I need to write to keep you riveted by our adventures, a local tweet-up I want to attend, or tours I need to finish booking, or songs I need to write. Ah, the problems of an artist. All is well, friends.

Because I'm saving my Sweden photos for a proper Sweden blog, I now give you a photo of David drinking a Newcastle in ... Newcastle! So post-modern, I know. I hope your brain doesn't explode from such deep thoughts.

The best thing about living in Scotland (besides the wide availability of single malts) is its proximity to all kinds of other exciting places. I am still in awe that this morning I wandered around downtown Stockholm, then a few hours later, I was in Edinburgh before sunset. Inexpensive airlines make a weekend in Sweden not just plausible, but extremely likely. It's a dangerous precedent, especially to someone like me, who feels an unfounded sense of entitlement to grand adventure.

I'll share more stories of our adventure in Stockholm in other blogs this week, including some beautiful photos take by David and some average photos taken by me.

For now, I'm worn out. Partying with the rock stars until 2am is great fun. But combine that with my inability to sleep in when I'm in a strange new town, and you don't get a very astute Brigid.

Now I shall regale you with some links and things:
- I first read this article after a link from Joy's blog, but it made me smile and think. I'm in that weird group of people born during the Carter administration. Not really Gen X and not really Gen Y. This woman's article dubs us Generation Catalano -- as in Jordan. Amusing article.
- I caved in and bought a winter dress last week from Anthropologie. It's orange and super-comfortable. I wear it daily. Now I wish I'd bought the green one too (see photo right). For only £29.95, that would be reasonable, right? Or, with that money, I could travel instead ... travel is more fun than a new dress. So I give you:
- Ryanair's sale flights. I browse these daily. I know they hit you with weird fees, and you shouldn't even THINK about checking a bag. But still, these flights are crazy-cheap, even if you have to tack on £20 in taxes. Daydream with me, won't you? Where would you go?

We are off to SWEDEN!

Contest winners include Scott Mertz and Wendy Davies. Wendy is very good at winning my contests:)

I shouldn't have mocked David's MBA Programme last semester. Apparently his teachers read my blog because this semester they've absolutely slammed the students with work. I haven't seen my husband in days, other than for a passing piece of cake or a quick hello on Skype. According to the Facebook posts of classmates, Finance is to blame. Isn't finance always to blame?

While David's been away, I've been busy over-committing myself. Next week I've got two gigs (one as a sideman and one as a singer), plus two articles due for two different publications (one for a bridal magazine tee hee and one for travel). No complaints here though.

Time for me to talk about music! I'm singing in a cabaret on Thursday, November 24. I was initially just supposed to be the singer of the house band, but then the keyboard player vanished. It's a different vibe when you're cuddled up with a microphone singing 1940s swing standards than when you're stuck behind a piano doing the same. I'm working on a way to play the piano parts and still seem like a sultry, cabaret singer. We'll see. The songs are great though, and the guys in the band are talented and fun. We've also worked up one of my original tunes, -- with a horn section! -- so I'm stoked about performing that.

The last time this cabaret played, it was a sell-out, so I'm expecting it to be a good night. Anyone in Edinburgh want to come to the show? I've got some advance tickets for £6, if you want to buy some directly from me. They will be £8 at the door.

www.saturnaliacabaret.co.uk/ for more info on the show.
The Facebook Event for the Cabaret night

That's my self-promotion for the week. Now it's time to PACK!!

For where, you ask?

Last clue of the week. Winner(s) get a postcard. New clue: We are going to exchange currency ... and not for a Euro.

Now for an image of band practice in Scotland. Observe the band director properly sipping a cup of tea during rehearsal. Only in the UK, right?

Ok, we are off to ... somewhere spectular for David's 30th birthday. TBA...

As someone who has been self-employed for over ten years and paid thousands for health coverage that barely covered anything, I have been in awe of the NHS since my arrival. I've also heard loads of natives here complain about them. At the current moment, I base my love of the NHS on facts, not other people's complaints. That could very well change upon future experience because I am a very fickle lady. So let's not talk politics, shall we?

Facts: I went to the dentist this morning for a check-up. I like my teeth and feel like I should take care of them. The dentist himself spent a good twenty minutes with me, took copious notes, and fancy x-rays. He said I looked good and to come back in six months (my usual routine at home).

Upon check out, the lovely woman apologized and said I'd have to pay for my x-rays. I grimaced because I know what x-rays cost back home -- never less than $150. She smiled and said it would be, "Four pound forty four pence, please." That's about seven dollars. Seven dollars.

I exhaled, laughed, and considered buying the woman behind me some x-rays as well. You know, pay it forward, right?

I adore my dentist back home, but an appointment like that would have cost me almost two hundred. Also, twenty minutes spent with an actual dentist? That's never happened. Check back for more thrilling doctor visit stories!

***
Also, to continue with the guessing game of "Where are we going for David's birthday?": it's a country where the official language is not English. And I do not know a single word of its official language.

I've gotten used to living life as a student. In particular, my under-furnished kitchen has become that "square yard of space" to which I have now resigned myself (poor bourgeois me!). Occasionally I remember kitchen tools that made my life easier, but now I peel potatoes with a regular knife and serve soup with a cup.

Yesterday I frolicked about the New Town with a new friend. My winter goal is to get really into cider, and she was trying to help me out with this mission. During the course of our afternoon, we stumbled upon a few shops that made us swoon. Creative Cookware, a wee kitchen shop on Rose Street, was like every wedding/housewarming present you'd ever want, neatly packaged in a small, colorful store.

I caressed measuring cups. I cradled wooden spoons. I drooled over cookie cutters, avocado slicers, apple corers, vegetable slicers, and ... my very own Scarecrow: the Red KitchenAid Artisan Mixer.


I got a little misty, thinking of my own little guy tucked away in a storage space with all kinds of other things I don't really need. I got particularly weepy when I saw the pricetag -- four hundred and nineteen pounds! That's almost as much as a coat from Anthropologie costs.

**

Busy week ahead. First a weekend away with my soon-to-be-mature-and-no-longer-a-trophy husband (clue to follow). I'm also singing at a big Cabaret show next week in Edinburgh: Thursday, November 24th, 8:30 pm at the VooDoo Rooms. It's not my original music, but it should be a really fun night. I'll be singing songs of the 1940s-ish era with the Saturnalia House Band. I've got some advance tickets for £6 if you want to buy them from me. It's £8 at the door.

Now for my next very, very helpful clue (tee hee, Tara!): It's a different country, one that neither of us have been to before. Ah the joys of living so close to so very many countries!

See? My clues are getting better and better ... well, maybe.

I used to be a TV producer, so I am a little obsessed with videos. Unfortunately, I can't really take video of myself, so all those tour videos I take aren't really of me, but of my lovely tour companions. This time, however, I'm being the smart business-lady, and posting a video from the MusicPort Festival. It was a good evening. Here's a song, since most of you were thousands of miles away from the event.



That song is also on iTunes, Spotify, Pandora, etc ... all the usual suspects. Cheers!
I quite like playing festivals. Who wants to hire me?

Oooh! almost forgot to give you a clue about where David and I are going this weekend. Clue #2: We are going to a concert on Saturday there. Correct guess gets a postcard.

It's David's birthday week, and a BIG birthday at that. You know, one of those 5 or 0 years (but not a five AND a zero). Not that I really need an excuse to do something dramatic or extravagant, but a birthday is just free license to behave irresponsibly.

We are not really big on things, but we ARE big on hedonism. (That's with a lower-case "h," not the nudist resort in Jamaica.) For Christmaskuh, we've already made the rule that we are not exchanging gifts. Rather, we choose a $$/££ amount and buy a basket full of consumables, the luxury chocolates, teas, and alcohols we resist buying on regular trips to the market. Aside from having everything we could possibly want (if not here, in a storage unit in Kentucky), it just feels so much more fun to have a shopping spree at Valvona & Crolla than at Jenners.*

Seeing as we're saving our consumable delights for the holidays, we are partaking in a variation on hedonism for David's birthday: adventure! I tried to keep it a surprise for him, but various circumstances made that impossible. So David may know where we are going, but YOU don't, my friends. If you've been reading for years, you already know that we like to take random weekend trips to crazy places. So let's make a fun game of it. The first to guess correctly gets a postcard.

First clue: I did a report on this place in the 6th grade and have been mildly obsessed ever since. Not very helpful, is it? More clues to follow...

*American translation: It just feels so much more fun to have a shopping spree at Whole Foods than at Macy's.

Today's photos: Adventure! David's photos from an October trip to the Highlands.

Yesterday, David and I took a day to be a tourist. We walked about eight miles around streets and museums, taking in our beautiful adopted home. Edinburgh is just gorgeous, even when it's overrun by tourists dragging suitcases and natives who haven't agreed on a side of the sidewalk to walk on. (That is a whole other blog.)

Just a few highlights:
the National Gallery
. We were delighted to find portraits painted by Sir Henry Raeburn, as we've read about him in novels. (I like how you can learn just as many interesting facts from a novel than a work of non-fiction.) Also, we live just off of Raeburn Place, so it was extra-exciting to see his work. We also saw a few Botticellis and Raphaels, while David tried to explain the Holy Trinity -- something about which sent me into a hysterical fit of giggles, until David slinked away to the gift shop in embarrassment.
Museum on the Mound
Did I mention already that most museums are free over here? This fact gives even the peasants (and students) a chance to see one million pounds in person. We weren't allowed to take photos, but imagine, if you will, a glass c
ase with 50,000 neatly stacked twenty-pound notes. I've seen the movies and read the books, and I understand that money isn't everything. But it was pretty cool to see the ancient coins from King David I of Scotland and that case of banknotes. Great museum.

The rest of the afternoon -- it gets dark at 4:00, so we only stayed out for a few hours -- consisted of more wandering, several shops, a portion of chips, a gingerbread latte, a pear cider, ice cream, and garlic bread.

I love being a tourist.

The first time I went to York, England, I was living in New York. The connection didn't occur to me until I got home, but I think that's because I'd always thought of New York as NYC or Manhattan. No one ever actually wrote out "York," and it certainly doesn't sound English. In fact, it comes from the Viking community that was once settled there, Jorvik. (And there's your know-it-all trivia of the day).

David and I went to Olde York (just called "York") about two weeks ago. It's about the most charming little English town a tourist could want to visit. Complete with what's called the most well-preserved medieval street in all of Europe, the city centre oozes Tudors and cobblestones, markets and tea houses. It winds around itself, pretending to be on a grid system, but really just spreading outwards towards the town walls -- yes, walls.
Dating as far back as Roman times, the walls manage to be both imposing and inviting. We frolicked along them one morning, pretending to be guarding the villagers. David shot a few invaders with his invisible spears, while I missed all my targets, even in my imagination.

We stayed with a super-smart, super-nice man we met on the Internet. (I threw that bit in there just to freak out my blog-following family members, but it also happens to be the truth.) He opened his home to us, showed us the best curry restaurant in town, where we talked about rugby, physics, and music. After dinner, we all went on an adult pub crawl. By "adult" pub crawl, I don't mean that we saw naked ladies. I mean we went to two pubs, then crawled home before midnight.

The next day we explored the Old City, popping in and out of shops, buying cupcakes from Boy Scouts, strolling hand-in-hand past Roman ruins and farmers' markets. An old blind gentleman shared some town history with us, then told me I was "pretty and well-dressed." This still pleased me despite his obvious lack of, well, sight.


York also happens to be home to an absolutely enormous Gothic Cathedral, York Minster. I can't express to you just how huge this thing is. I mean, I've seen some churches during my travels, but this one spanned several city blocks and -- like most of the others -- was about a thousand years old (though it's been suggested a church of some sort was on the site for about two thousand years). Mystifying. Also fascinating is that the site of this cathedral is where the Roman Constantine was crowned Emperor of the Roman empire.

I'll say that again: The Roman Empire. Sorry, but I think that's what I love most about travel. I think it's absolutely amazing to walk the same footsteps as these huge figures of history, or to see the same hills and streets that famous authors, composers, or even unknown peasants and soldiers saw. The history here is just mindblowing.


Enough awe. Enjoy some pictures.



David is about to fall off the walls!
The Walls and Me.
The Shambles!
David and an important corpse:
And for Lyzz, Colleen, and my parents... Clifford's Tower!



Thanks for reading. Where should we go next?

In the UK, people write dates as DD/MM/YYYY. This is confusing when you are talking about the 1st-12th days of a particular month -- today is 11/9/11 in the US, but 9/11/11 in the UK. However baffling this is to me (it's getting easier, but then I second guess myself), I have to admit that DD/MM/YYYY makes more sense. At the very least, it is consistent. Beginning with the most specific (day), we then move to a little more broad (month), and then to the widest point -- the year.

Still, it seems to me that keeping the year until the very end is not very useful, at least not from a literary point of view. It's kind of like German, where you have this long sentence, but the verb doesn't happen until the end. Ergo, no one knows what you're talking about until the sentence is over. I think a better way would be to begin with the year -- set the stage a bit, you know? Then get a bit more specific with the month, so everyone can start to imagine the season and scenery. Finally, cap it off with a date, just for clarification. YYYY/MM/DD, I say.

That's all today, folks. My mind is spinning with stress, and rather than scream at anyone, I'd prefer to offer you this deep thought.