Martha's Marvellous Munchies

One of the pitfalls of moving to a different country is that words often mean something different to what you think they mean. A trolley is a form of transport that runs on rails down the street, rather than something you put your shopping in. That's a cart. Which doesn't carry as much of a connotation of "horse and" as it does in the UK. And I was recently gently informed that "jugs" more usually refer to a part of the female anatomy than to something you put milk in. I will have to get used to saying "pitcher". Isn't that what you hang on a wall? After a few years here, we are mostly au fait with the local lingo, and manage to turn up at the right place and avoid offending the natives. However, on Friday night, Graham found out that there was a gospel music concert going on at a local church. Our Americanism detector did not light up, and the predominant picture in both our heads was something like this: Big choir, bright colours, high-

Well, I know all my neighbours to the east are heartily sick of snow already, but snow in Texas is about as common as cowboy boots in London, so you're just going to have to grit your teeth and listen to me rave about it for five minutes. If it makes you feel better you can always do the "12 inches? That's nothing! Bunch of wusses!" routine. We always enjoy mocking the locals when it rains and the news stations send reporters out to stand there damply telling us how wet it is. But significant snowfall is outside of our comfort zone, too, so we're happily staying off work and panic-buying cat litter or whatever it is you're supposed to do. So, yes, the photos. It was very wet snow, so venturing out was a rather splashy business enlivened by occasional plunges into ankle-deep liquid slush. Nevertheless, I sloshed my way down W 7th St, determined to extract maximum enjoyment from the situation. This guy didn't look too impressed. The snow stuck to the

The sign caught my eye first. In blocky orange and black writing it said: THE HOUSE COFFEE BAR . It was attached to an unassuming building lurking in a spot where I was sure there had never been a coffee shop before. I ventured a little closer. The big metal dumpster sitting outside confirmed that this was still a work in progress, but there was a little piece of paper tacked to one window. I leaned in to read: We believe in ventis, extra shots and real conversation. We believe that love never gives up. We believe that church is more than a building. We believe the fulfillment of being the church is far greater than the feeling we get going to church. We believe that pretending only fools the pretender. We believe to love is to know that you're alive. We believe in getting it done. We believe in real people, real stories and real change. Ah- haa ! Not only a coffee shop, but a coffee shop with a church. Or maybe a church with a coffee shop. Either way, this was interesting. An