I'm about to get my mind blown by spring.

Oh, hey! I remember you. Sorry I went AWOL. Classes and stuff. It's okay, though, since I'm back now. Let me give you a brief overview of how my past couple weeks have gone.

Write paper.
Hand in paper.
Sleep.
Eat.
Write paper.
Hand in paper.
Eat.
Sleep.
Write paper.
Hand in paper.
Eat.
Sleep.
Watch Meet the Spartans.
Write paper.
Hand in paper.
Eat.
Throw up in kitchen sink while friends are present.
Finish eating.
Go to class.
Eat.
Sleep.
Write Division III proposal.
Sleep.
Snood.
Eat.
Snood.
Sleep.
Eat.
Sleep.
Eat a Big Mac.
Skype.
Sleep.
Eat.
Read.
Eat.
Sleep.
Eat.
Climb Arthur's Seat.
Eat.
Snood.
Sleep.

There's the basic outline. Let me fill in a few details, however. Like what I ate. And why I got sick.

I made a corned beef. This was our "Second Saint Patrick's Day," or more accurately, "Ashley couldn't find a corned beef anywhere in Edinburgh and so instead they had 'Evacuation Day Burgers and Guinness' and now they need to eat that corned beef" Day. I bought a brisket from a butcher, made a lasagna for dinner that night and friend came over to help me eat it. It was delicious, if burnt. Anyway, the brisket. I poured salt all over it, wrapped it in damp paper towels, and put it in the fridge. Then I left it, re-salting every so often. On Tuesday, I prepared it by simmering it for five hours. There were concerns from some of the residents of Flat 13 that the meal would be too greasy, and a certain Flat 8 person (okay, okay -- Robert) wanted to fry the cabbage in butter. I was given eyebrow-waggles for cutting the carrots into pieces too big to cook and the potato into pieces too small to dominate the other vegetables. However, when the meal was ready to eat, there was Irish soda bread (made by eyeballing the ingredients because, hey, there's no such thing as measuring cups in the UK). They use scales.

Helpful hint: if you enjoy baking and plan on studying abroad, I advise you to bring your own measuring cups.

Either way, the meal was delicious, even if I didn't slice the meat properly. And also, I made the most amazing burgers ever made in the UK. Because Wannaburger was a huge, over-priced disappointment. The meat had been over-worked; they added too much and didn't let the beef speak for itself at all, which is a real problem for me. You shouldn't taste the pepper more than the cow. Also, they call it seven ounces, and that may be. But it is not juicy -- it's dry, possibly a result of the meat being over-mixed -- and it's certainly not thick. I felt like I was eating a veggie burger. The patty was made with a press so it had the perfect uniformity of pre-fab burgers bought in bulk for a cook-out. And about as much succulence, as well. Also, price-wise, you were paying between 8-10 pounds for the burger. The burger. Doesn't come with fries. You have to order the fries on the side. And then, they give you a very small serving of them, for a pound-twenty-five. They don't even have a very impressive selection of them.

I also learned that Robert and his mother convince his father to go to the Mall of America by promising they'll go to Hooters afterward. Why is that so upsetting to me? I ask because I feel like my mother might actually have the answer to that question.

My creative writing workshop -- well, Will, Beth, and I -- had lunch together before the last class and were sitting around. Will said something really funny when I had a mouth full of drink and, uh, no, it didn't go out my nose. I know I've been known to spray things out my nose before. But no. I held it in and ran to the sink, thinking I could spit it out there. And I threw up because I was laughing too hard. In a sink full of water and dishes. With the stopper in place. Hallelujah.

Eh, it's funnier than it is embarrassing.

Yeah, I also wrote my Div III proposal and have my Div III committee pretty firmly in place.
Chair: Lesy
Member: Michele Hardesty
Just Because She's Awesome: Professor Hillary Moss, from Amherst

Then Lloyd made us watch Meet the Spartans and a little piece of my heart died. Granted, the "Shaq, Kobe, Tommy Lee" list was kindasorta funny, but it was only funny if you actually knew serious details about Carmen Electra's love life. Which I happen to know. Kill me now, please. I am offended by the existence of this movie, which was so unfunny it hurt. How stupid do filmmakers think people are? And Lloyd had been doing so well, too. I was willing to forgive him for Sign of the Cross, but when I went to hand in my logbook and he laughed, asked me if I "enjoyed that," referring, obviously to Meet the Spartans, everything in my body revolted. I stared at him, the other Ashley-face firmly in place. I waited, trying to find words to express my distaste. And finally settled on simplicity. "No."

But now I'm done with classes and loving the new episodes of Gossip Girl. I got a package this morning and I don't know who it's from because I need to go pick it up. But the post offices here keep the strangest hours. 6:00-12:30. What? Who does that? That just means I can't pick it up until Tuesday, which is fine. I'm used to waiting to see who sent me stuff, though it used to be easier to guess.

Arthur's Seat is really beautiful. It's the Queen's property and I heard rumors that you can drink in public there, camp, etc. It's also scary going up if you're the least bit klutzy, because you'll fall or stumble at least once. It's not a long hike, but it's intense for something so short. I did it in about twenty minutes and was hurting a little bit. But the view is incredible and totally worth it. It was really nice to see the water, too.

Spring is about to pop here. Today, I am wearing capris and a tee shirt. No sweater. No coat. It's gorgeous. The trees outside the windows in the kitchen and my room are turning green with buds so ready to burst I'm surprised they haven't yet. There are blackbirds everywhere; I'm almost afraid to bake a pie. (Come on, you know where that's from.)

Anyway, I'm off to London with Robert and meeting up with Byron for some musical pilgrimage that Byron and I have planned since, uh, well, I was in tenth grade. At last, my loves, at last! I'll be back on the 6th, but I'm hoping I can con some sports bar into playing Opening Day at Tropicana. (God, I hate indoor fields.) Then on the 7th, I'm off to Shetland for Easter. So you may or may not get updates before the twelfth. I can make you no promises, other than that you WILL hear about London and Shetland both, eventually.

Cheers, lovey.

From Edinburgh