Thanksgiving

I experienced my first Thanksgiving yesterday! There was turkey (not a whole one - I assured my husband that we were not up to the challenge), yams (or sweet potatoes to us Brits), cranberry sauce (home-made!!!), pyjamas till midday and jazz hands at the 87th Macy Parade. It was glorious!

I set my alarm, sprang out of bed, bellowed 'Happy Thanksgiving' and ran into the lounge to switch on the Parade. While making pancakes for breakfast, I was serenaded by Broadway super stars as they gave sneak peaks into the latest and biggest musicals - what a way to start the day! The floats were bright and full of waving hands and sparkling teeth. Snoopy, Spiderman (whose left arm was tragically deflated by a Central Park tree), The Pillsbury Dough Boy (my personal favourite - he's so cute and fat!), Sponge Bob, Uncle Sam (still not quite sure who this is?), Buzz Lightyear (who injured a worker when a cart in his entourage ran over her foot), Sonic the Hedgehog, Ronald MacDonald, and Hello Kitty were only a few of the enormous balloons making their way through the rammed streets of New York City, flying lower than normal due to high winds. I watched about a billion High School marching bands perform, all scarily professional, and thousands of workers dressed up as clowns, sea creatures, stars, gingerbread men, elves, fried eggs (?!), Christmas trees, cupcakes and many more amusing things. My favourite were the children made to sit in human-size present boxes with matching lids on their heads. Father Christmas finished the spectacle with a very convincing beard and belly, and I found myself feeling all warm and fuzzy.

We ate our dinner...

(the cat was particularly excited)

...went for an afternoon walk at Arbor Hills Nature Preserve...

...saw a questionable swing...

(The chastity belt)

...and finished the day with a trip to the cinema to see 'Hunger Games' (FYI, at many cinemas in Dallas you sit at tables and order food and drink from menus! You just press a button and a server arrives! No queuing needed. Although, we do love to queue in England, maybe we'd miss it?)   

To conclude, I think I bellowed 'Happy Thanksgiving' ten times, and the only mini disaster that occurred was when we lost the cat and discovered her in the saucepan cupboard. All in all, a perfect success!!! 

 

Tamales!!!!

Lupe (my mother-in-law suggested this might be how she spells it) brought us a shiny package of home-made Tamales yesterday that her friend at church made for us (she's networking to provide us with more food - I love her.)

Tamales are made of masa, which is a corn-based dough, and can contain meat. Ours have pork inside. The finished product is steamed or boiled in a leaf wrapper which is discarded before eating (a fact I did NOT know on my first Tamale experience) 

Here is a picture of our Tamales which will be devoured this coming evening:

A trip to the Doctor's

I have discovered that a trip to the Doctor's in Dallas is exactly the same as in England: you wait, you fill out forms, you wait, you get weighed, prodded, poked, you wait, you experience blood loss, answer probing questions and embarrass yourself (I'm pretty sure I freaked my doctor out by holding his hand a couple of times when, looking back, I think he was initiating a manly handshake. Well, what does he expect when he takes me into a room with Disney characters painted on the walls?!) 

A busy weekend...

On Saturday evening, my new Texan family were out in force! It was our American Wedding Reception, and I learnt many things:

• I have an Uncle Scooter who can tear up a dance floor with masses of enthusiasm (AMAZING) 
• I have an Uncle Bill and cousin Brad who are going to teach me all things Texan, including Texas Hold'em, Tex Mex and something to do with horseshoes (?!)
• I have family and friends who were willing to travel from Austin and Ohio to celebrate with us (!) 
• My husband has Cherokee blood (his great great great grandfather was half Cherokee, and his father (add another great) was full Cherokee (or was it mother??? There were a lot of 'greats' being thrown about, I got confused)
• If you place cinnamon sticks in jars with candles, it smells like Christmas (I was sniffing centrepieces for most of the night) 
• Apple Pie Moonshine tastes like sweet, glorious Heaven
• Two-stepping to country music looks like so much fun (PLEASE hubby???) and can be done in true Cowboy fashion at Billy Bob's in Fort Worth
• I have developed a love for the song 'Country Girl' (Shake it for me) by Luke Bryan. In fact, put it on after you've read this and dance around. Go on! Shake your inner country butt! Too far? Sorry. 

My bank does it again!

Cookie Fridays are one thing, but free dog biscuits?! 

My bank has a drive-through. I kid you not, you don't even have to go into the building to make a deposit or take out money orders. You can drive up, insert your deposit/instructions into a space-age tube which gets sucked up into the bank (I have no idea if it goes under ground, over head or through space and time) where a lady on a microphone says 'Thank you, ma'am' and completes your request. AND if you have a dog with you (so bankers Xavier and Brenda told me today) they give you free dog biscuits through the sucky tube thing!!! So not only do I need to make sure I go to the bank every Cookie Friday, but now I need to get a dog!

(You may have noticed that I am already on first name terms with my bankers. I think it's because I'm the famous English girl who brought in a wad of pounds and English cheques for them to covert into dollars. (I'm sure when they see me coming they press the secret panic button under the desk)) 

Gifts from Loopy

Our next door neighbours are a Mexican couple who moved to Dallas from Mexico City. I'm not going to guess how old they are, but they have grown up children with children of their own, so they are definitely a lot older than me. Anyway, I would like to announce that they are the best neighbours we could ever have hoped for. Why? Because they bring us food. What kind of food? Full on, authentic, home-cooked, Mexican food with all the kicks and sombreros (I imagine that's what the food would wear if it could choose an item of clothing - that is probably the most stereotypical thing I could have said and I apologise). 

We've had soup, corn tortillas, some kind of sweet bread (I couldn't make out the name), white cheese straight from Mexico City (similar to mozzarella) and even a cookbook that we have been told to choose anything from for Loopy (that's the wife's name - I have no idea of the spelling but that's how it sounded when she said it) to make for us in her kitchen of spicy wonders. We think we are going to choose Chilorio, which is chile-seasoned pork served in flour tortillas with rice, beans and guacamole. God bless Loopy! Needless to say, whenever there is a knock on the door, I get very excited. 

I decided to gift them back one day with some authentic English cuisine, so I made scones. Naturally. Feedback from Loopy and her husband was very positive and I will be inviting them in for tea and crumpets soon (I'm even stereotypical about my own people). 

The Cable Guy

I had the loveliest cable guy in my apartment fixing our Wifi and calling me ‘ma’am’! No word of a lie, he was the sweetest man on Earth. When I asked him if he would like a drink, he grinned and asked if I had any hot tea. I served it to him in a cup and saucer and he was thrilled! 

We sipped and chatted for ages. He told me he was from Mississippi and that he’d visited 35 American states. He told me he had dreams of going to England, Rome and other places he’d seen on the puzzles he used to make (!). He said 'Ma'am, what's that place where those boats go up and down outside the houses?' I said, 'Venice?' He said, 'Yes! I'd like to go there very much. I think that's just crazy!' (Please read that in a Mississippi accent. I know, I can't do one either, but it's fun to try!) I gave him a magazine of places to see in Britain and he said he would use them to paint from (!!). We then spoke about his work and he told me that he recently had a job in a mansion where there were nine bathrooms, two cinemas and two swimming pools connected by a slide! One man lived there, he told me. 'That’s too much house for one man,' he said (Do the accent again!). 

When he left I had a ridiculous smile on my face. Don’t you just love meeting genuinely friendly, honest and interesting people? A sweet accent helps too!

An American Staple

My first batch of oatmeal cookies with thanks to Betty Crocker (The Delia Smith of the U.S)! I made them in a saucepan – must buy a mixing bowl.

When America and England come together to make magic: 

The difference between porridge and oatmeal

There is none. Well, maybe oatmeal is coarser. Maybe. Someone send me some porridge and I'll eat them side by side. I'd be more than happy to do that.  

(I apologise if this offends any budding porridge/oatmeal buffs. My tastes buds may be wrong and I take full responsibility for their mistakes as I am the one who grew them.)  

Down-Town

Yesterday I took my first trip to Down-town Dallas. There was so much more there than I expected! When driving past on the highway, the city looks compact and financial, the kind of place where people go to work and not play. But oh, how wrong I was! There are museums, restaurants, parks, plus the sight of the JFK shooting which is pretty macabre, especially when you see the X that marks the spot (this Thursday, 22nd November, will mark the 50th anniversary of his death and the 25th year of my husbands life, just in case you wanted to send us cake, which I'm sure you do! We appreciate cake.) 

(The shooter was on the floor second from the top and on the far right) 

(A 'Grassy Knoll' sign on the grassy knoll, just in case you were unsure)

We paid a visit to the Dallas Museum of Art (because it was free!) and it was great - a mixture of modern and classical art from a wide range of cultures, plus loads to play on (cue me and the husband doodling on the Art computers for 45 minutes) 

There was also a place where you could create a piece of art using various materials provided and leave it with a message for someone to pick up and take home. Mine turned out looking like a man on a cross, so I called it 'Man on a Cross', and I took one made by 6 year old Christian entitled 'Rovon the Fighting Robot'. Although meant for children, the average age of the people working away and getting creative at each station was probably 30. Everyone likes to glue and stick, right?! 

We discovered, to my ENORMOUS glee, that you can take a Segway tour around the city! Genius! Here is proof: 

I have decided that this will become the thing that ALL my visitors do. Mum, that includes you! 

Don't Walk

People don’t walk in the Dallas area. I discovered this the other day when I told my husband that I was going to walk to Walmart and he could meet me there after work. He asked me to wait for him to get home so he could drive me, but I said no, it’s ok, I’d like the fresh air. Ok, he said, but be VERY careful. Am I going to get shot? I asked. No, he said, just be wary of cars, they’re not used to pedestrians. Do you know who else isn't used to pedestrians in the Dallas area? The little green man whose job it is to make it safe for you to cross. He either doesn't show up or does a quick cheeky flash before disappearing behind the red hand again. At one I waited for FIFTEEN minutes before giving up and following the lead of a jay-walking native. When he does make an appearance to tell you it’s safe to cross, he LIES, because cars are still allowed to turn right! Little Green Man, me and you got beef.  

The Crinkly Mattress

My husband asked me why our bed had a nappy (I apologise - diaper) on it the other day. I explained patiently that it was a mattress protector. He then proceeded to thrash about on the bed to point out the noise it made (to be fair, it is pretty loud and crinkly, but who sleeps like that?!). He said that he wouldn't be able to sleep, that he’d have to sleep on the sofa. I explained that eventually we could budget for the more luxurious, softer one (at least we didn't go for the cheapest of the cheap, which was basically a sheet of plastic that would have us sliding off the bed altogether). After a bit of wriggling from him and a LOT of giggling from me, we both slept soundly and our mattress was protected.     

Pure Genius

Every Friday my bank gives away free cookies and coffee. COOKIE FRIDAYS. I never thought I could love a bank, but I do, I really do. 

As promised, an American cucumber:

 

Shorter in length than an English one, slightly bumpier and a darker green but just as tasty and much cheaper over here (no contest when you’re on a budget!) 

Questions answered...

I have recently been asked some questions about England from some lovely American readers that are of great importance and that require immediate answers, so here goes...


1. What is a crumpet? 

I shall start by saying that it is NOT a pancake or English muffin. It is a crumpet and a delicacy that we English enjoy at breakfast, afternoon tea or, as I discovered a few days before leaving for the States, at lunchtime with a banana milkshake. Crumpets are made from flour, yeast, sugar and milk and they have these ingenious holes in the top that make the butter ooze into its core to create a squidgy, sensational food experience. We serve them hot, and I would definitely recommend toasting them on an open fire. There are some great recipes online - I might try some out soon!

2. Do you call an English muffin an English muffin or just a muffin? 

A muffin. These are my second favourite after crumpets. In my eyes, they need more ingenious holes. 

3. If a chip is really a French fry, what do you call an American chip? 

We call them crisps and they come in all shapes, sizes and flavours. We even have vegetable crisps! Beetroot, parsnip, carrot - we like to crisp up just about anything! 

I hope that helps! Keep the questions coming!! 

The Estate Fair

I went to an Estate Fair today where an entire house is opened up and practically everything inside is for sale (apart from the light fittings as the signs indicated). These usually happen after a person dies; it's a way for the family to sort through and sell on their belongings. This particular house was full to the brim. We traipsed through the living room, the kitchen, the garage and the bedrooms. By the time I left, I felt as though I knew the person. She was a collector, a cook, a mother, a grandmother; she liked to sew, to paint, to cosy up with a quilt, and at Christmas time, her house was full of decorations and family. It felt odd to be rifling through a stranger's life, to be passing items with little interest that may have been her most prized possessions; her favourite mug, the chair her husband sat in, her mother's dishes. I wondered how she would feel to see it all laid bare and sold.  

I came away with a chair and a bench. As I placed them in my new home and thought about how excited I was to have them, I decided that she wouldn't have minded at all.      

Butternut Squashed

I made this husband:

a fancy meal from a set of recipes I found in a magazine entitled '10 Ways to Serve a Butternut Squash'. It consisted of butternut squash (shock!), crispy bacon, avocado and a fried (or ‘sunny side up’) egg. The afore mentioned husband ate a few mouthfuls and said it was weird. He later shared this information on the phone with the WiFi man. 

How to open a tube (let’s go with tube) of Pillsbury biscuits

1.       Purchase a tube of Pillsbury biscuits from Walmart (or anyway really. I just have a fascination with Walmart at the moment. It's like Asda, but different (they sell cacti to EAT!)) They look like this:

2.       Do NOT use a can opener (especially one that does nothing but tear the label off)

3.       After ignoring number 1 completely and using said can opener, do NOT attempt to finish the job with a pair of scissors while the dough inside expands at an alarmingly rapid rate until you feel there might be more on the outside of the tin than inside and you lose sight of why you are even bothering.

4.       After ignoring 1 and 2, do NOT throw the scissors aside and use your bare hands (this will result in a cut that will not stop bleeding and a confused new (and LOVELY) Texan friend who has no idea what you mean when you ask her to bring a plaster round. FYI, it is ALWAYS a ‘band aid’ if you want to save time and stem the flow of blood quicker)

5.       ALWAYS read the instructions, which clearly state that NO can opener should be used in the process, and that actually the tube should simply ‘pop’ open with a twisting motion focused in the centre (which my husband demonstrated when he arrived home, God bless him).

6.       Throw away the tube with or without (it’s your preference) a string of choice words and mumblings.

7.       Bake your biscuits and enjoy them with pretty much anything (as seems to be the Texan way – I recommend butter and honey, wisdom provided by my sister-in-law).

Here are my first attempts:

  

FYI: Here are the temperature conversions (crucial) from centigrade to Fahrenheit that I have taped to my fridge (Yes, that is a Texas fridge magnet):

FYI part 2: We did not buy this fridge, it CAME WITH THE APARTMENT! Thank you Texas! (That does not happen very often in England, hence my glee…we also got a microwave and it’s HUGE!) In fact, here are some pictures, just for kicks:

Hey y'all!

My name is Rosie High and I recently moved from England to Dallas, Texas (as in, on the first of this month). Why, you ask? Because I fell in love, dang it! 

This is the live story of how I trip, and very occasionally glide, through the steep learning curve that is moving to Texas.

I will be attempting to answer some tough questions for y'all, like what is the difference between porridge and oatmeal? How do you open a tube/can/whatever they come in, of Pillsbury biscuits? What does an American cucumber look like? (You may have noticed that food will play a huge part in this journey. AS IT SHOULD.) Will my husband ever take me country dancing? (I figured if I put it out there into the void he might be more inclined to. Feel free to pressure him in the comments below.) Will the petals of my red English rose fade to a Texan yellow? (Look out, we’re getting poetic!) 

So join me y’all (that’s my second 'y’all' in one paragraph -fist bump!) as I discover the finer details of the lone star state (by that I mean a tiny section of it, about the size of my thumb nail on the map that I’m looking at which may be bigger or smaller than yours).

(I would like to apologise for any offence I have caused with my possible improper use of ‘y’all’ and/or ‘dang it’, and warn you that it will probably happen again.)