Anyone Care for a Digestive?

An American rector at the church we've been visiting told us when we face cultural differences in our new home that we can either laugh or go mad. I choose to laugh. For example, when Matthew and I were going to church last night -- we left an hour early to make sure we had plenty of time to arrive. Yet, we still managed to be a good twenty minutes late to the service. We took a bus into town and then ventured another 50 minutes on foot. Some would be frustrated, but we actually enjoyed ourselves. We discovered a new area of town, and it seemed absolutely charming.

Another fun adjustement to life in Scotland has to do with all things involving the culinary life. Measurement units are different. I can't walk in to a supermarket and buy one pound of chicken breasts. Also, some well-used ingredients back home are unavailable here. (Mom-when you come for Thanksgiving, please bring some Pepperidge Farm stuffing!) However, there are some interesting goodies to be found at the supermarket-- but some of these goodies have such strange names! A 'cookie' here is called a 'digestive.' How unappetizing is that???