Hangovers and Leftovers

I am so glad that this blog does not come with a webcam because today is Black Friday and I'm going to recline in my pyjamas for as long as I can without grossing myself out. I'm going to enjoy copious amounts of strong coffee, lip-smackingly hot buttered toast, and a TV line-up that is so ludicrously crappy that I can scarcely believe it.

Black Friday is the biggest shopping day in the US and it comes the day after Thanksgiving. I did not have a big Turkey Day this year, but even I'm having trouble moving too far, too fast. How gluttons heave themselves around the department stores on this capitalist delight's special day is totally beyond me. Maybe they secretly did what I did this year, and got up early to shop online. With the exception of one person, my Christmas shopping is now totally done. And I didn't have to leave the apartment to do it. Score!

The best thing about being a sloth on Black Friday is it allows you to reflect on the day before. Turkey Day, Thanksgiving - whatever you call it - is a day to stop and give thanks for the good things in your life. I've had some amazing Thanksgiving meals in my US experience:

• The first time, I went to an old friend's place in Chicago when the weather was ridiculous;
• The second time, I tried to host an orphan's Thanksgiving and one by one, everybody bailed. So in the words of Forrest Gump, "that's all I have to say about that";
• The third time, I went to the Trade Commissioner's house and had a huge roast lunch;
• The fourth time was actually my first truly American Thanksgiving, hosted by a Chicago friend at her gorgeous apartment;
• The fifth meal I cheated and hosted it in June, to celebrate my Aussie friend's visit;
• The sixth and seventh meals were, if you can believe it, both on the same day, this time in NYC when I flew in to visit K. We were more stuffed than the turkeys by the end of that day; and
• Now of course it's Thanksgiving Meal #8 and despite my fancy cooking class, I wimped out and did the heat-and-eat option.

I actually thought I had Thanksgiving plans this year, but friends who had initially talked about coming to NYC for the weekend ended up changing their plans. Quite separately, I was also invited to have an orphan's lunch at a friend's place but with the idea of hosting my own friends in town, I had to decline. Nothing was a big deal in the end of course, because the food I bought freezes really well. So I kept out the pre-cooked turkey breast, cranberry & herb stuffing, mashed potatoes and turkey gravy, and I managed to cobble (gobble?) together some steamed vegetable side dishes to go with it. I sensibly froze the apple crisp dessert because I think that if I'd left that out, I would have scoffed the lot. As I polished off the plateful of almost-homemade deliciousness, I had a couple of glasses of red wine and watched "Ghostbusters" and "National Lampoons Christmas Vacation". It was a pretty good day, for sure.

And the only hangover I have today is a food-related one. Waking up from a turkey coma is always a bit rough. Online shopping and strong coffee has helped revive me somewhat, and I'm ready to face the day dealing with leftovers. I'm thinking that a turkey chilli is on the menu, for which I shall be truly thankful for days to come.

Giving Thanks

Apparently the last time I updated this website I was still without heat or hot water, washing my hair over the sink and improvising other ways to keep warm (heat pads on the bottom of my socks and such).  Well things are well and truly back to normal now and I resolve to never take a flushing toilet or heating vent for granted again.

The weather has warmed up a little now too - we haven't had any more freakish slush/snow and the temperatures have been bearable (and typical for this time of year).  It's a good thing too because it meant I could get a jump start on planning for Thanksgiving.

Looking at the calendar, I see that this year marked the 7th year since I first celebrated Turkey Day.  I gave a handy recap of all my past Thanksgivings last year, so I won't bore them with you here.

This year was a bit special though because for actual Thanksgiving Day (Thursday) I had managed to get into a volunteering slot at the Bowery Mission, one of the oldest (if not the oldest) shelters in NYC.  I had tried to get in to volunteer last year, but the slots filled up so quickly so I missed out.  This year I got my act together and signed up for the morning shift.  My work colleagues stepped up to the plate and helped me gather toiletries and warm winter coats to donate to the Mission.  Did you know that everyone that comes to Thanksgiving Day lunch leaves with a new coat?  That's got to be about 500 new coats, distributed on just one day.  Incredible.  So anyway I had big plans that I'd be in a massive kitchen, wearing a hairnet and prepping vegetables for a huge Thanksgiving feast.  As it turns out, I was one of about 40 volunteers in the 9am-11am shift, on waitressing and food service duty.  The Mission has much more of a religious bent than I was expecting (lots of Jesus talk and "God loves me" affirmations).  But there are also a lot of lost souls who come to the Mission to find comfort, and who am I to judge whether that comfort comes from warm food or Scripture!

We had a short induction lecture at the start of our volunteer shift, where we learned about the number of mouths the Missions feeds every year, the number of pounds of food that are donated each year, and the number of articles of clothing that are distributed.  The scale of the operation is terribly impressive and so by the time the warm-up lecture was done, I was pumped to get started.  We all got a bright red apron to wear and before I knew it, I had some latex gloves on, an empty dinner plate in my hand, and I was making my way along the lunch buffet, piling up the turkey, mashed potatoes and all the trimmings.  With plates piled high with hot food, the volunteers stood in line and waited to process into the chapel, where tables of 10 had been set up around the room, all filled with people needing a tasty meal.  The chapel ceilings were high and the walls decorated with beautiful artwork.  At the front of hte chapel, a soloist was singing beautiful gospel hymns - a lovely accompaniment to the lunch service.

Under the watchful eye of Mission staff, the volunteers were shepherded into the chapel and distributed their plates of food, then returned to the kitchen to get another plate.  In the first brunch shift that we did, there would have been about 120 people in the chapel.  I gave plates of food to two ancient Chinese ladies, both of whom grabbed my arm and wished me the most hearty Happy Thanksgiving.  I also had to give my plate to a man who had put his head on the table and was grabbing a bit of a nap.  I wasn't sure whether I should wake him up, but his table companion did it for me.  A sharp elbow to the ribs snapped the guy out of it, and it gratefully took his lunch plate from me.  The first brunch service finished and we swung into action to ready the room for the next service.  We wiped down tables, reset the cutlery and cups, and swept the floor.

The volunteers disappeared back to the kitchen so Mission staff could bring in the next group of diners. We heard that the second brunch service was not a scheduled one - but there had been so much demand for service, the Mission didn't want to turn anyone away.  And so it was that we readied ourselves to serve another 120 people.  This time around, I switched with a couple of young kids who were volunteering with their family.  I was assigned "mixed vegetables and gravy" duty.  With one hand I ladled generous portions of mixed veggies on the plate, and then with the other hand I ladled steamy, tasty gravy all over the top of the plate.  As the young kids came back to the kitchen to refill their plates, they were telling me stories about the people they'd met in there.  Like me, they had been surprised that families had come in together - grandparents, parents, and little kids.  I hadn't expected to see young kids at the Mission - I really did think it was just a place that men went.  But it was good that the volunteering kids were really engaged in the exercise and the mood in the kitchen was upbeat and friendly.

By the time I left the Mission it was around midday, and I had been given more "God Bless Yous" that I had heard in a long time.  But it was all okay because despite my initial concerns, I ended up having a really good time at the volunteering.  It felt good to be able to provide a hot meal to someone who obviously needed it.  And on such a traditional day, it was impressive that the Bowery Mission did not skip any corners at all.  The lunch plates had all the usual fixings - and as everyone left, they were even given a slice of pumpkin pie.  How's that for completing the meal?

The rest of my Turkey Day was spent at home, doing a quick spring clean in readiness for Cousin Ems, who arrived from Dubai.  We ate some pizza at my place, caught up a bit on the gossip, and then fell quickly asleep.

Friday morning we got up early and ran some errands before having our own (belated) Thanksgiving lunch.

I wimped out again this year and chose the "heat and eat" meal option, but it was quite the feast.  I was very lucky to have two special guests this year - Ems (for her first Thanksgiving ever) and Fish from work.  A delicious turkey breast, dinner rolls, cranberry sauce, and gravy come standard, and then I had to choose my sides and dessert.  I selected brown-sugar roasted veggies, sauteed kale & garlic, and mashed sweet potato.  Dessert was a fruit of the forest pie, with vanilla ice cream.   Just in case that wasn't enough food, I mashed my own potatoes, and roasted some baby carrots alongside.  I needn't have bothered - there was so much food that we didn't eat it all.  Fish kicked in a delicious bottle of Piper-Heidsieck, which complemented the meal beautifully.

Ems had to leave at about 4.30pm to get back to the airport and fly home.  Me and Fish kicked on for a couple of hours before she too disappeared, and I threw the dirty plates into the dishwasher and then threw myself on the couch.  With one eye open, I enjoyed my Thanksgiving tradition of watching "National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation", but I also laughed along with "Overboard" - which I had not seen in aaaaages.  Classic!

By the time Saturday rolled around I had no real idea what day it was.  All these days off had thrown me, I think.  The day itself was rather quiet - I luxuriated in my pyjamas for a disgusting amount of time, and then left the house to dine at Union Square Cafe with Westo.  I'm going to have to visit this place repeatedly, as the menu is amazing and has so many temptations.  After dinner we then headed way uptown for some drinks at the very cool Hi-Life lounge on the Upper West Side.  And we rounded out our evening with a late screening of "Anna Karenina".  I enjoyed the film but my favourite part was definitely the costuming - such beautiful outfits.  Sigh.

I'm at the stage of my long weekend where I could really use a couple more days off.  You know how that happens?  Weird.  Sadly it's back to work for everyone tomorrow.  I don't feel that I overdid things too much this weekend, so I can still wear pants with buttons and I don't need to find excuses to wear my trackpants to work (phew!).  But that doesn't mean that I won't be counting down the hours until home time so I can put them back on.  I'm only human after all.

Giving Thanks

Thanksgiving at Mum's
Originally uploaded by whitneybee.

Thanks to those eagle-eyed and expectant readers of this high-brow blog, who have wasted no time at sticking the boot in, to tell me off for not writing with my usual regularity. They dared to suggest that I have found recreational pursuits to keep me from blogging. Would I dare to have a life? Moi? Come on people, you know better than that!! And you know me well enough by now to be sure that any and all extra-curricular activities are blogged about eventually! If I leave you for a day or two in order to get out and about, you must take comfort in the fact that I'll share the down and dirty details with you eventually...

And here we are.

This morning saw my return to work, from a four-day hiatus to enjoy the quintessential American holiday, Thanksgiving. I'm not sure I can remember everything I did over the weekend (owing to the onset of a cold that is making my head fuzzy) but here goes.

THURSDAY
After finishing work Wednesday night with pizza and red wine, I farewelled my room mates as they returned to Wisconsin for Thanksgiving weekend. That left me all alone in my entire building - I kid you not. My apartment building has only 3 apartments in it. The girls on the ground floor went home for the weekend; the first floor apartment is vacant anyway; and the top floor apartment is mine. So being alone all weekend had an element of fun to it, but also a bit of fear. I heard every creak of a floorboard and every door slam made me nervous. Still, the security is good in the building and any intruder/mountain goat willing to climb three flights of stairs to attack me is welcome to it.

Thursday itself was fairly uneventful. It was really cold (about minus 7 degrees Celcius) so I made a date with my couch and watched DVDs. Then at around 4.30pm I walked the 7-8 blocks to Caroline's place, all rugged up and warm as toast. Stopping only for champagne at the supermarket (as you do), I made it to Caroline's with rosy cheeks and a big smile for all the other Thanksgiving guests. I took photos, so don't worry. [And thanks for the surprise phone call, J xo]

The meal was huge - lots of turkey, corn casserole, mashed potatoes with goat cheese mixed in, green vegetables, and all finished up with pumpkin pie (still yuck), tiramisu, and steaming Italian coffee. At about midnight, Rakesh and Nicolette dropped me home and I fell into a contented sleep.

FRIDAY
When I awoke on Friday, the weather had taken a turn for the worse. It had warmed up, but was now about zero degrees, and cold enough to snow. Which is did, but only late in the afternoon.

By that time I had gone shopping for provisions for my house warming party on Saturday night, and then agreed to meet friends downtown for the Christmas tree lighting ceremony and the German Market (Christkindl). Jumping on the bus, trying to work out what I was doing in the freezing cold weather, I braved the city crowds to find locate my friends, who greeted me at the entrance to the market with a steaming cup of glufwein in hand for me (to the uninitiated, glufwein is not spelled correctly here, but is actually warm red wine mixed with spices like cinnamon and such). After two souvenir steins of that wine, we were all fairly merry and ready to join the oompah band in a rousing knee-slapping dance.

Fortunately for all concerned, there was no oompah band.

And then the snow started to fall. And fall. And fall. So we bailed early, without having seen the tree lighting ceremony, and I took myself off home.

SATURDAY
The day of the house warming party arrived. Again, I hit the shops for extra provisions, not entirely sure just how many people would rock up. Fast forward to the night time and a grand total of 7 people passed through my house. And that included me.

So how pathetic was that? Only one person from work showed up, and I think she was more embarrassed than I was that more Aussies didn't show. As it turned out though, the other Aussies were all out partying so I suppose they were living up to reputation. It's just that they weren't partying at my house, which would have been nice I would have thought.

But we were all tired after the rush of Thanksgiving, so everyone had gone by 2am and I cleaned up the house and went to bed.

SUNDAY
I flatly refused to exert myself on Sunday, and instead I wandered down the street to my boss's apartment, to pick up a 20kg box of clothes my lovely family sent over for me. Then I spent the rest of the day watching "Dirty Dancing" and "High Fidelity" on TV, and running up and down stairs to the laundromat to clean my clothes and towels. What a day, eh?

Still the relaxing end to the weekend made me actually feel like I'd slowed down and eased out of the Thanksgiving break. Over 2 million passengers passed through Chicago's O'Hare airport this weekend. So if I was going to be Thankful for anything (as you're supposed to be at this time of year), I guess I am thankful that I wasn't one of them.

I had better start spreading the news

The Brooklyn Bridge
Originally uploaded by Miss Gab.

For many people in the US, the great turkey coma that is the Thanksgiving Holiday is probably still wearing off. I was jolted out of mine by a flight cancellation, a new flight delay, and then lost luggage. But more of that later.

Miss K and I had long ago agreed to spend this year's turkey fest together at her place in NYC. I flew in at midnight on the Wednesday, and got back in the wee hours last night. So in the Von Trapp Family style of story-telling, let's start at the very beginning for I suspect that it is, indeed, a very good place to start.

Day One - Gobble, Gobble

The Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade is an institution in NYC and is pretty amazing because the sky is dotted with (seriously) impressive balloon figures. In some cases, I saw about 20 people tethered to the balloons - or maybe the balloons were tethered to them, I didn't really notice. Suffice it to say that the balloons were big. Click on the Brooklyn Bridge photo above to see my album, if you need further proof.

By contrast, what is not impressive about the Parade is the D-list celebrities that flank the floats or (in some cases) tramp all over them. K watches a lot of reality TV and I read a lot of trashy gossip mags and between us, we couldn't work out who some of these 'celebrities' were. Except Rick Astley of course- yep, we were all over that one!

At one point, a float went past that featured a couple of skinny hipster boys and I innocently queried (to no-one in particular) whether these were the infamous Jonas Brothers. That faux pas got me a walloping death glare from the pre-teen girl in front of us. If looks could kill! Of course I was only kidding! I know very well who the Jonas Brothers are (no big deal if I can't name them), but frankly I care very little about them, though I kept that to myself. The pre-teen girl in front of me would probably have punched my head in, had she not been forceably restrained by her friends!

Leaving the Parade, we walked up the street to The Australian, a cute little pub that (joy of joys) serves Coopers beer. Not only that, it had two empty barstools just waiting for us when we came in. Well, perhaps they weren't just for us, but they might as well have been for how happy they made us!

Having stuffed in a three-course Thanksgiving pub lunch, and the obligatory bottle of Jacob's Creek red wine, we shuffled back to K's place for a "quick lie down". Hours later, with pillow creases on our faces and impressive mops of bed hair, we hurriedly dressed for a Thanksgiving dinner with two of K's friends.

I don't know how people survive two Thanksgiving meals in one day - I know it just about killed me. As soon as someone invents cute elastic-waisted pants, I'm getting multiple pairs for occasions such as these. I felt like I could have used them. I'm still not 100% sure how I managed to ingest two helpings of turkey, vegetables, stuffing, wines AND dessert all in the space of a few hours. Some mysteries are better left unsolved, I guess.

Day Two - no more Gobble, Gobble (for which we are truly thankful)

The good thing about overindulging on Thanksgiving is that you have the next day to sleep it off (and eat leftovers, but fortunately this did not apply to us). After a late sleep-in, we decided that we needed to get out and walk. We didn't care where, we just needed fresh air and some exercise.

We wandered for hours, through K's neighbourhood and into the East Village before stopping for another Aussie staple lunch item, a good old meat pie & (another) Coopers Beer. Tuck Shop is a great spot for a quick fix of Aussie essentials. Just look for the Vegemite window display; you'll know you're in the right place.

After the refreshments, we kept walking, all the way down to Chinatown and around to the East River waterfront, under the Brooklyn Bridge and around to the South Street Seaport (Pier 17) - which I discovered is very similar to Navy Pier here in Chicago. But still we walked, through the City to the subway, alighting at Union Square, for a brain-frazzling tour through DSW (shoe mecca) before declaring never ever to do that again, and heading for home.

But we were not done yet. Friday night's dinner was at the stunning Eleven Madison Park restaurant. There is no way I could fault any aspect of the menu or service that we experienced - everything was just first-class; I loved it. K made some perfect wine selections that just complemented the meals we chose. Well worth the money, let me assure you.

But we were STILL not done. Into a cab we flew, and made it to a midnight screening of "Rocky Horror Picture Show". Can you believe that we are both such huge fans of this show and we had yet to see a midnight screening? It was a pity that we had to sit up the back, for we were within earshot of some of the most foul-mouthed, homophobic representatives of NY's youth community. We knew the movie would feature heckling, but we figured it would be the clever, all-in-good-fun, and SCRIPTED shout-outs that fans obsess about the world over. Not so. These guys were crude, crass, and terribly inappropriate. They really did spoil our enjoyment of the experience and I was glad K didn't deck them, though I would have backed her if she'd started somethin' all up in their business.

Day Three - Still upright...somehow

The next morning, we slept late but got up in time to eat a light lunch at Rice, around the corner from K's house and then it was onto the subway to get to Studio 54 in time. But as this was the daytime, we went to Studio 54 in its current state - a hugely popular Broadway theater space. Nubile Bianca Jaggers on horseback have been replaced by wrinkly octogenarians enjoying live musicals, but the experience is still something to be had.

"My Pal Joey" was a fantastic production, not least because it stars STOCKARD CHANNING (yes Jems, RIZZO RIZZO RIZZO). I thought she was just wonderful, but then who didn't?!

After the performance, we caught the subway to Grand Central Station and K took me to an amazing little bar that is not well-known, so I'm not even going to name it here. Let me just tell you that if you know it's there, you are a lucky ducky. Wood panelling, ornate ceilings, low-slung couches and an open fireplace create the most decadent environment in which to sip cocktails while you wait for a train. Presumably.

But our schedule waited for no-one and pretty soon we were off again for our next adventure. We stopped by Ricky's to stock up on tacky costume items to prep for The Awesome 80s Prom. I giggled just writing that.

Set in 1989, participating in the senior prom and interacting with the stereotypical cast members was a lot of fun - and lots of laughs too. When the real MC Hammer came out to sing "You Can't Touch This", I was sold. Whatever he had, the man's still got it. Here's a sample of his work, in case you're trying to pretend you have no idea what I'm talking about.




Yeah, you know you love it. Stop, Hammer Time.

Day Four - All good things must end

We had packed so much in to the Thanksgiving Holiday, you could hardly blame us for sleeping late on Sunday morning. We emerged to play Wii Fit (I was terrible), and eat pizza (I am very adept at that).

I made it to La Guardia with plenty of time to spare, only to discover that my flight was cancelled due to bad weather. I was the last person to be assigned to another flight out on Sunday night, but even THAT was delayed, and so I ended up waiting around in the airport for just over 5 hours. On reaching O'Hare, I had to go on a wild goosechase for my luggage, but managed to track it down riding a far-off carousel, all on its own and completely mis-labelled. I didn't even want to work out the "What, Where, and How?" of that one. I was just grateful that at 1am this morning, I was safe and well at home again. Be it ever so humble, and all that Kansas sentiment.

Phew, that was a bumper posting - even for a blabbermouth like me. But now you're all caught up and you can see why I am very thankful for a truly wonderful weekend. Just let's stick to one turkey meal a day next time, shall we?!

Giving Thanksgiving the bird

What a difference 24 hours can make.

Yesterday I posted about the Aussie-themed Thanksgiving dinner I was going to throw and then an initially promising guest list collapsed (like a flan in a cupboard), leaving only me and Caro to enjoy an 8-person roast lamb with all the crispy trimmings. Well screw that, and pardon my French.

So today, and admittedly in some distress, I rang Caro and spat the dummy. To hell with Thanksgiving and all it stands for. To hell with hosting dinner parties that no one will commit to. To hell with being away from my family, who I know would come if they could. I was feeling particularly sorry for myself.

And Caro did her best to talk me down from the proverbial ledge. She told me to bring the raw lamb leg to her place on Thanksgiving and we'd cook up a rich Indian curry, drink booze, and take naps all day. I love Caro.

I'm feeling better now but sometimes I just wish I could beam all my friends from home over to Chicago for an event like this. It's hard when you realise that you don't have the 'usual suspects' you can rely on to help make unfamiliar holidays like Thanksgiving nevertheless memorable.

Giving Thanks - a little early

When I turned 21 again this year, K & P were kind enough to gift me with four cooking classes at Home Cooking New York. I took a look at the online class calendar (which changes each season) and there are so many tasty classes to choose from! Fortunately the teacher agreed to let me book my lessons individually, so I can take my time and choose carefully.

Home Cooking New York’s Manhattan location is a gorgeous loft property in Chelsea, all polished concrete floors, exposed beams and industrial décor. And somebody actually lives there, can you believe it? While we took over the owner's apartment for our class, she and her wire-haired Jack Russell terrier hid out in the bedroom and watched TV. It probably would have been awkward were it not so awesome.

For my first class, I signed up to a Thanksgiving Tutorial. Despite not liking turkey all that much, Thanksgiving is one of my favourite US holidays. I love the tradition of it – the smells, the flavours, and all the pomp and pageantry that goes along with it. Due to my no-touch policy, I tend to draw the line at the hand-holding part (where you go around the dining table and say what you’re thankful for), but from a strictly culinary perspective, I do love it. So my motivation for joining the class was just to learn a bit more about how to take the stress out of Thanksgiving and confidently prepare some of the main traditional side-dishes typical of the holiday.
Behold the menu for last night’s class:

• Roast chicken with pan juice gravy (an appropriate turkey substitute)


• Cornbread stuffing with wild mushrooms & pecans


• Fresh cranberry-orange relish


• Maple sweet potato puree


• Pear tarte tatin

Our merry band of wannabe chefs included one instructor and eight students. I didn’t know anyone of course, and nobody made any effort to introduce themselves, which I thought was a bit weird. But we donned our aprons and gathered around the long tables in the kitchen, our knives and cutting boards in front of us, settling into casual small talk.

From what I could glean from the conversation around me, I was the only first-timer there last night. The other students talked about the classes they’d been to and I got the impression that the Indian (vegetarian) class was the most popular one by far. I made a mental note to look that up later on.

The class website encourages you to bring a bottle of wine (or equivalent) with you, because the idea is that you cook together and then you sit down to enjoy the meal afterwards. I had come prepared but because I couldn’t see any bottles of wine on the dining table or anything, I kept mine hidden in my handbag (as I so often do).

While the chef began his introduction and overview of the class, the two boys next to me went to the fridge and brought out their home-made infused vodka. It had some sort of wrinkly fruit swimming around inside it. They did not offer the rest of us any, but instead proceeded to pour themselves multiple glasses and talk amongst themselves – and to us – about how delicious it was. Well, we had to take their word for it, didn’t we? Another couple had bought a bottle of wine with them and again, they poured themselves glasses and put the rest of the bottle back in the fridge. I had bought a bottle of wine too but I was hardly going to pour myself one glass and screw the lid back on. So I offered glasses to the other students (and the chef) and felt better once we all had a drink in front of us. When the boys’ vodka ran out, they too cracked open a bottle of wine (again, without sharing any). For such a small class, I guess I was expecting something a little more collegiate, you know? A little more caring, a little more sharing...nope.

Anywho, once we were all boozed up, the class began and the chef took us through the menu, a shopping list, and the best ‘plan of attack’ for a stress-free Thanksgiving. He talked about the things we should do (up to 4 days before) and it was quite comforting to know that for such a seemingly-complex menu, so much could be done ahead of time.

In terms of confidence and ability, our class varied dramatically. One woman next to me was obviously afraid to even boil water. She wrote down everything the chef said and as he chopped, she picked up her knife and mirrored what he did (even though she was chopping invisible food). It was all a bit unusual.

We helped the chef prepare our meal, doing our share to dice fruits & vegetables, zest oranges, and season and stuff the chickens. Unfortunately the preparation part took so long, it was almost 9pm before we got to eat anything. Our stomachs were rumbling, all the wine had been drunk, and we were desperately ready to eat something…anything. Fortunately it’s the chef’s prerogative to eat while they cook, and while we got busy preparing the cranberry-orange relish, I got to taste my first fresh cranberry ever. It was very tart but actually quite refreshing. I much prefer them in their dried, sweeter form though.

Finally the time came to enjoy our dinner. The chicken was moist and tender, the two potato dishes we made were amazing and even though I’m not normally a fan of stuffing, it was delicious. My eyes were bigger than my stomach though and I struggled to get through all the meal. I couldn’t even face dessert – though the tart was a beautiful sight to behold.

I learned two really great things at the class last night. Firstly, I learned that all this time, I have been holding my kitchen knives incorrectly. I have been holding them by the handle (duh), but apparently that is quite bad because it puts strain on your wrist muscles and doesn’t give you the maximum control over your chopping and slicing. The trick is to hold the handle further down by the blade, so that your fingers are actually gripping the base of the blade itself. True enough, when I shifted my hand position it felt weird at first but then I realised I had much better grip and so much more control – it was great.

The second really useful thing I learned was how to chop an onion properly. I see how they do it on TV (cutting the onion cross-ways a couple of times to create a really fine dice), but I don’t even try that because I’m so afraid of slicing myself. When I chop onions, I usually send a lot of it skidding across the cutting board, or onto the floor (or both). This time the chef showed us how to cut the onion easily. Rather than slicing it across, you cut it in half and remove the skins. Taking half the onion, you first cut crescent-moon shapes, and then rotate the onion so you’re ready to dice it. But instead of cutting straight down (as I always do), you cut in a sawing motion following the contour of the onion. So your first cut is almost a diagonal one, and you keep following the shape of the onion around until you’ve sliced the lot. It is easy, and fast, and the onion stays put.

Oh and there was a third thing I learned. Even though I’m not a baker, I could TOTALLY make the pear tarte tatin that we had last night. Pears, vanilla sugar, a bit of cinnamon and some puff pastry? Dead easy, man. I just need a flat-bottomed cast iron skillet and I’m good to go. I wonder if Mr Le Crueset is feeling generous this Christmas?

Ewe just add mint jelly...

White Lamb
Originally uploaded by Mountain Mike.

I can't even remember if I have mentioned that I have decided to give American Thanksgiving traditions the heave-ho this year, in favour of hosting something with Australian 'flavour' for the expat orphans I've befriended in my time here. Given that none of them are US-born anyway, I didn't think anyone would really mind if I vetoed roast turkey and the sweet-tasting accoutrements that Americans devour at this time of year.

I've sourced a wonderful, boneless, Aussie lamb roast (courtesy of an expat guardian angel here in Chicago) and I plan on cooking it up with all the usual roast trimmings. I'm going to serve garlic & rosemary potatoes (is it wrong that I'm most excited about THAT part of the meal?) plus roast carrots, maybe pumpkin, definitely broccoli and other steamed greens, and delicious meat gravy. I will of course also include hearty farm bread slathered with butter with which to mop up all the goodness.

And will there be pumpkin pie? Well of course not. I am either going to try again with my signature tiramisu recipe (tried for the first time in the US last Thanksgiving, and I recall it did not fare so well owing to mass confusion on the naming of American baking products), or else I'll do....erm....a Plan B that I haven't thought of yet.

I will actually be in LA in the week leading up to Thanksgiving hence the scramble to get things organised now. I have issued my oven an ultimatum (complete with fist-shaking and angry glare) that it had better behave otherwise I will have it consigned to the scrap heap. I will have a similar conversation with every other appliance in the apartment that may be called into operation to pull off this gastronomic miracle.

And you know what else? I don't have a big enough kitchen table, or enough chairs, to accommodate my expected guests. Or enough plates, glasses, and cutlery to go around. In my excitement about the menu, I guess I just didn't think about any of that.

To be continued.

Happy Turkey Day!

Happy Turkey Day!
Originally uploaded by DIversify DI.

Last Thanksgiving here in Chicago, it was a horrible -18 degrees celcius and yet I trudged all the way to Caro's house to enjoy my first American holiday. Turkey is not my favourite meat, but the meal last year was delicious and the company was wonderful.

This year the weather was much warmer, but the food and wine and company were just as fabulous as before. I accepted a lovely invitation from our Trade Commissioner and it turned into a wonderful all-Aussie Thanksgiving. My boss and her husband, another colleague, and a couple of members of the Chicago cricket team all came together for a great feast. The roast potatoes with sprigs of rosemary were delicious - crunchy and golden.

Even the turkey went down a treat. Granted I smothered it with the yummiest pan-juice gravy I've had in a long time. But I didn't make a guts of myself and left room for some great dessert - a custard tart with raisins and muscat. I even had a glass of muscat to accompany it.

But I got home about 7pm and didn't overdo it today so I'm feeling fine and ready to face another day off tomorrow. The Consulate staff are getting together to watch the Ashes telecast tomorrow night at a neighbourhood pub. We just can't do without it. Who says the Thanksgiving weekend can't incorporate all kinds of traditions?

Giving Thanksgiving the Heave-Ho-Ho-Ho

Snowy twigs
Originally uploaded by yksin.

I don't know why stores are always in such a hurry to run through all the annual holidays.

Back at home, I remember that Easter Eggs are sold in the first few weeks of a New Year. But I didn't realise until yesterday just how fast-paced our lives have become.

Just as I've mentally prepared for Thanksgiving, my coffee shops are decorated with Christmas regalia and playing Yuletide CDs. The staff are wearing Christmas hats, and are wishing customers 'Happy Holidays' and not just a 'Good Weekend'.

So what happened to Thanksgiving - did I miss it?! Slow down, folks...let the slow Aussie catch her breath.

Howdy pilgrim

Turkey
Originally uploaded by cabeh.

I clock up my one-month anniversary in Chicago this week, and I can scarcely believe it.

I have spent my first month making friends; moving house; getting a bank account; and trying to make myself understood the whole way.

Sure, the guy in Starbucks loves my accent and gives me a leery smile each morning, so I know I'm surviving on the last issue at least.

But one thing I am still trying to wrap my brain around is the American holiday calendar. Working for an Australian Government organisation, I am in the unique position to get a combination of American and Australian public holidays each year.

One of the American holidays I'm blessed with is Thanksgiving. People have told me that it takes place at the end of November, but my brain just won't retain it. I'm still in Aussie mode and eagerly awaiting Christmas. Skip right over this turkey-eating business and give me Christmas crackers!

I'm not even sure what I'm doing for Thanksgiving this year, but I know that it will involve yams and pumpkin pie - two dishes I'm not so keen on. I will keep a tub of Ben & Jerry's icecream in the freezer, just in case (Chunky Monkey is my favourite right now, since you asked).

But as Bill Bryson reminds me, Thanksgiving is America's favourite holiday because it doesn't involve too much decorating, or any cards or gifts. You just turn up somewhere, eat until you can't move, and then go home. Or not.

Now WHY isn't that holiday sticking in my head, when it all sounds so agreeable?!

Now, what do we say?

I was running late for work this morning and I shared the elevator with a little boy from down the hall, all rugged up in his stroller. He was heading out for his morning constitutional with his nanny. I have seen this pair before and they are just adorable. While the little boy is cocooned under mountains of blankets, his little sneakers poking out the bottom, he chats away happily – mostly to himself, but occasionally to his nanny too. Usually he just stares at me. I poke my tongue out. He laughs.

We missed that little pantomime this morning because the little boy was having a late breakfast on the go. As his nanny leant forward to hand him the piece of buttered toast, she uttered that truly international phrase “now, what do we say?”. Obediently the little boy responded, “thank you”. Okay admittedly, his response was more a “fank goo”, but I’m giving him some leeway here.

It’s so weird that kids all over the world are schooled this way. We all get conditioned with “now, what do we say?” (thank you) and occasionally, “what’s the magic word?” (please). Weirder still is how we all start this way, but as our adult personalities develop and change, so too does our observence of basic good manners.

Old school etiquette put a lot of pressure on men – holding doors open for women, walking on the gutter-side of the street, standing up whenever women came into (or left) a room or a dining table. Those practices haven't entirely disappeared but they have slackened off - sign of the times and all that. But hey, good manners aren't just the domain of men. Women can just as easily hold doors open for people, give up their bus seats for the ancients, and cover their mouths when they sneeze. And when I witness these simple acts of kindness in my modern day life, I ask myself “now, what do we say?”, and of course I respond accordingly. You can't undo that sort of conditioning.

When I lived in Chicago I adopted the very American practice of writing thank you notes. Is this an American custom? It seemed so to me – I don’t recall Aussies doling out too many thank you cards on a regular basis. I do recall however that when I lived in Chi-town, Hallmark made millions from me. I had boxes of thank you cards of all different designs and whenever I attended dinner parties or birthday parties, or even if friends just did something nice for me, I’d send a follow-up note to formally acknowledge the kindness. It wasn’t even forced either. For me, it had become another US custom that I’d adopted and it was borne of a sentiment so sincere, that it felt good to be able to express it.

While I take care to remember my manners at all times, I have admittedly slackened off on the card-giving these days. But as my attention turns to the fast-approaching Thanksgiving holiday, I’m wondering if I shouldn’t just reinstitute the practice. It won’t save me from the ghastly hand-holding, saying-what-you’re-thankful-for Thanksgiving lunch tradition, but it will be a nice thing to do. And let’s face it, it doesn’t really matter where you’re from – “fank goo” is always nice to hear.

Silence is golden, or so they say

I know it's been a bit quiet from this side of the world for a little while, but by way of meagre excuse, I'm going to place the blame squarely on the Prime Minister of Australia. And for once, I am entirely justified in doing so.

My office has been handling the postal and pre-poll voting for the Australian federal election and even though I had never done it before, I found the project to be really interesting. It was an exhausting time, with long days, late nights, and a lot of concentration required to check and double-check the numbers of votes cast. Now I know how Santa feels, when he makes his list and checks it twice. It's a big job.

So on Monday we need to send the last of the votes back to Australia and then the project is over for another three years. And we all play the waiting game to see what happens at home. Maybe the fate of the nation really does rest in the hands of an Aussie voter from the US Midwest. Time will tell.

It was probably timely that the election project finished this week, because the hard work culminated in a day of decadence yesterday for Thanksgiving. It's the quintissential American holiday, and I was really pleased to be invited to Bork's house for the complete traditional experience.

Bork confessed to me that she's not much of a cook, but she was going to really try to get the meal just right. I believed her when she said this of course, so I went along without any expectations that the food would be delicious. Now I realise that she was just being modest (or outright lying) because the meal was TO DIE FOR. The turkey was tender and juicy, and the side dishes were amazing. For the first time, I tried all the authentic American Thanksgiving dishes: green bean casserole, sweet potatoes with cinnamon and marshmallows, creamy buttery mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce with citrus, stuffing with raisins and apples - ooh I am almost drooling at the memory of it all.

So while Bork held up her end of the bargain, I feel like I may have let the side down a little. I was supposed to bring dessert and I'd talked up the idea of the great Aussie pavlova. I mean, why not inject a bit of my own culture into the US event (plus I really don't like pumpkin pie, and I have to draw the line somewhere). But when it came down to it, I realised that I should have taken more time out of my week to rehearse the recipe. I got myself into quite a flap at the idea of whipping so many egg whites and then sculpting them into the cake shape ready for baking. It all just seemed a bit too much like a delicate science. So I chickened out and instead, I bought a ready-made chocolate bunt cake from the bakery, whipped my own heavy cream (and did not make butter out of it), and topped it all with sliced strawberries that I mascerated with balsamic vinegar & sugar. So you see, I did actually have to prepare some of the dish myself. And the gang at dinner DID appreciate that.

And now it's the day after Turkey Day, and everyone is still sleeping off the overindulgence. I am up early because the neighbours are going at it like the screaming nymphomaniacs they are. And in the spirit of the holiday, it appears my neighbour's girlfriend is very VERY thankful....

We've NEVER been in Kansas, Dorothy

The US Midwest has been battered by some pretty horrible weather the last few weeks and I'm dosed up on hayfever meds and having that daily "umbrella-no umbrella" argument with myself before I leave the house to go to work.

The office offers shelter from the elements but it's been a whirlwind of meetings, farewells & welcomes, and a general rollercoaster of emotions. Somehow we all made it to Friday though, and I'm enjoying a weekend of strong coffee, DVDs, and Aussie music blaring out of my computer speakers.

I'm looking forward to having JK back to stay with me next weekend, as he's en route to Boston to become an even more brilliant Uni student. I got an email from him the other day that presented a rather lengthy list of pre-course readings and writing tasks so as he said himself, sometimes it's a good thing that the flight from Oz to the US is so long and boring. I wonder if he'll get any (or all) of it done.

I was talking to Lex the other week and we agreed it would be fun to have a "Junesgiving" dinner for JK - after all, if he can't be here for the real Thanksgiving, maybe we could bring it to him. So I'm cooking next weekend - yes, you read that right. I'm cheating with the turkey of course, opting for a seasoned rolled turkey rather than a whole bird that would just go to waste. But otherwise I'm going for the traditional fare - green bean casserole (which I love), mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, and Lex is bringing the sweet potato casserole. I can't allow pumpkin pie in my house (it's a phobia), but I'm happy to admit pecan pie so that's our dessert. I've also got creamy limoncello in my freezer courtesy of Coco and while it's not traditional at Thanksgiving, it's delicious and a fantastic digestif so I'll bring that out too.

But as I have had my windows open all week to let the howling winds blow through and keep me cool, my apartment is full of dust and fluff and I even saw spider webs in the loungeroom so I think it's probably about time I got busy cleaning.

The things we do for friends, eh?!

Doing my bit for humanity

I spent yesterday getting re-acquainted with my sofa, having spent a wonderful weekend with JK who was here en route to a study course in Boston.

We celebrated Thanksgiving in June on Friday night (yes, I cooked turkey); we overdosed on steak and other carniverous delights on Saturday night at Fogo de Chao; and so by the time he departed on Sunday, I was knackered and just wanted to lay down all day. So I did.

But I got mesmerised by some useless program on VH1 that did a countdown of the 20 (or was it 30?) most shocking Hollywood murders. The Mansons took top honours (DUH) with the Nicole Brown-Simpson crime in second place. Generally the show was crap, and it depressed me for a while, so I closed my night by ogling Colin Firth in "Nanny McPhee".

I got to work today and the news was full of more murders and mayhem. Not necessarily based in Hollywood this time, but I read about an axe murder and murder-suicides in Australia, as well as some nutjob in Texas that (surprise, surprise) shot a bunch of people for one wacky reason or another.

I suspect that what we have here is a wonderful collection of psycho nutcases, which makes my mental actions today all the more defensible.

Coming home on the bus tonight, very late for any day much less a Monday, two girls were across the aisle from me. One of them was talking very loudly - so loudly that I had to lean forward several times to see whether her unfortunate travel companion was wearing two hearing aids. She wasn't; Chatty Kathy was just a loudmouth jabberjaws.

And she was talking utter rubbish. Crapping on at ever-increasing volume about her theater shows, and her literary prowess, and how the recent car trip she took was oh-so hilarious because she was reading to the captive audience from her collection of trashy romance novels. [Side note: Why her travel companions didn't leave her at a truck stop after filling up with petrol is beyond me.]

So on and on she droned, and I was simultaneously wishing for death, and a new set of I-pod speakers, neither of which materalised.

I texted Lex and asked if I was allowed to hit the woman, and Lex gave me permission, but only if I took a photo at the same time. Hmm I'm not that clever.

But surely smacking a noisy commuter upside the head would not result in me taking first place in a VH1 Top 20 countdown of public transportation outbursts. Rather, I would probably be given a street parade, or at least a hearty round of applause. Or something. Right?!

The Griswolds we ain't

It's hard to believe that the holidays are over and despite my initial reluctance to put up my tiny little Christmas tree (with even tinier ornaments), I have to say that I am sad to say goodbye to the yuletide celebration.

Last year I spent the majority of the holiday in booze-fuelled revelry which, in its own way, created some very funny Christmas memories. This year however, was always going to be a different story. Because THIS year, I was getting out of Chicago and spending "Christmas in the Country" at the Lake Geneva Resort & Spa in Wisconsin.

K had decided a couple of months ago that it would be a blast to spend the holiday season together. So that prompted my November excursion to New York for Thanksgiving, and then K visited me here in Chicago for Christmas. We spent a couple of days in Chi-town because I still had to work, but it was a good opportunity to bid farewell to the Chriskindlmarket in Daley Plaza as well as catch up with a few friends before they too left town for the big day.

Pete was kind enough to lend us his car for the road trip and I have to say, Kate was the perfect highway driver - alternating as she did between appropriately aggressive overtaking, and fantastic duet partner for radio karaoke. Even when I talked her ear off so we missed the toll booth exit, she never once seemed irritated. And despite the ugly weather on the drive from Illinois to Wisconsin, we made it to Lake Geneva with both the borrowed car, and our long-time friendship, intact.

We had a lakeview room, though you wouldn't know it because of the near foot of snow that had blanketed the landscape outside. Most of the snow had fallen over the golfcourse and surrounding property, so it was untouched by human feet (though some deer and rabbits had obviously left some prints behind).

The hotel itself reminded me a bit of "The Shining" at times, simply because it was so deserted. And then at mealtimes, people seemed to surface out of nowhere, to the point that it was often quite tricky to get a dinner reservation at a "usual" time for America, so me and K instead had to revert back to our European roots and dine in a more continental timeslot. No harm done for us, let me assure you.

Our retreat to Lake Geneva was never meant to be one of those non-stop vacations of frenetic activity and action. The whole point of the trip was to get a White Christmas and enjoy some down time from the City, our offices, and our lives. And given how much we ate, drank, and slept over the weekend - I think you could easily say that we achieved everything we set out to do.

We even sat through a floorshow called "Hooray for Holidays" which, now that I think about it, defies explanation. Suffice to say it featured high-kicking legs, vocal arrangements of "power ballads" and men in turtle necks under their unitards. You know what I'm saying; thank god for open bars.

Always one to make a scene, I fell out of the trolley car that ferried resort guests around the property to the various buildings on the campus. The bruise that developed on my butt over our weekend was pretty impressive (but in the interests of all that is holy and decent, no one but me can verify that statement).

It didn't actually snow on Christmas Day, but I don't think that really mattered. After all, there was so much snow on the ground, and chill in the air, that the holiday itself was the very embodiment of the "winter wonderland" we all sing about.

Lake Geneva itself is a very pretty town, with beautiful weatherboard houses and charming antique stores and gift shops. Not a dynamic place by any means, so living there might be a bit of a yawn, but as a tourist destination it is just lovely. And at under 2 hours from Chicago, it is a perfect weekend retreat.

We were treated very well at the resort, pretty much left to our own devices, until it came time to enjoy afternoon high tea in the Lobby Lounge, wasabi snacks & vodka at the bar ("Evolve"), or big fat steaks in the Chophouse. Delicious.

It was a shame that I did not get to do the sleigh ride but that will teach me for not booking in advance. Lesson learned. If I loved massages and/or facials, I would certainly head back to Lake Geneva and take full advantage of their spa facilities.

But even without all that pampering, I still walked away from my Lake Geneva Christmas Vacation feeling relaxed and ready to face 2009 in the big city.

...and so it begins

More Snowy Steps
Originally uploaded by Canis Major.

Chicago still has to get through Halloween and Thanksgiving before we can actually celebrate Christmas, but the stores have already started hanging decorations by the chimney with care. In fact, in some stores, it's a veritable decorative bonanza and often it's hard to tell just what holiday the stores are more eager for us to support.

But quite aside from the visual symbols that the holiday season is upon us, the weather today was a clear indicator that autumn has been given an almighty shove by the winter muscling on in.

We had snow flurries today and a top temperature of only 42 degrees (that's a walloping 5.5 degrees Celcius for those of you joining us from The Land Down Under, where women glow and men chunder).

Fortunately, I guess, I made it to work at 8.30am and didn't set foot outside again until we left for the day at 4.30pm. But it was definitely a coat, scarf, and gloves day today. If I had a beanie-worthy dome, I would have worn one of those too. I wouldn't have been alone. Everyone was sensibly rugged up against the rather shocking cold snap.

People on the bus today and around the corridors at work were stunned to witness this morning's snow storms, checking the calendar twice only to realise that yes, we ARE still only in October. Something tells me this winter may just be the fierce one we've been due all these years.

Well I say, bring it. I own one coat for every day of the week and dammit, I'll wear them all at once if I have to. I will not be beaten by the weather, I simply refuse to be.

Abs-olutely Abs-ent

There are two things about today that I can hardly believe: 1) that I haven't written anything on this blog since Thanksgiving; and 2) that it has literally been a year since I completed the New York City half-marathon.

So much has happened since we last met here and I've no idea where to start.  So let's do this recap thing in reverse order, shall we?  I think that might be easier in the long run and besides, if you know me at all you're well aware that my stories never come out chronologically.  So let's see here.

I'm back at Pilates, after an awfully long hiatus.  To say I'm out of condition would be the biggest understatement I'd ever made - and that's saying something.  But to make sure I ease back into my fitness properly, I signed up for four weeks of one-on-one Pilates lessons.  The trainers I have picked for my month-long torture are so lovely, and terribly forgiving.  I spend the hour alternately praying for muscle memory to kick in, and a swift death (for me, not the trainer).  My neck and shoulders have been so sore lately that I thought these classes would be a good way to iron me out.  But I'm sad to say they aren't working for that.  In fact, the whole of my body is in crippling pain for days after the classes, thanks to the fact that muscle memory is a totally crock in my case.  But hey, head to toe body pain seems to be taking my mind off the neck and shoulders soreness, so perhaps that's something?  Anyway we're two classes down with two to go.  It's nice to know my abs were still under that comfy padding somewhere - and with each class and exercise, they are making their presence known, even though they aren't as cooperative as they used to be.

I think my neck and shoulders are sore because I'm sleeping funny these days.  Not in a headstand or something silly like that, but who knows - it's just weird.  I went as far as to buy some memory foam pillows the other day, thinking that they would improve the quality of my sleep.  I get the feeling that these pillows are made for NASA astronauts or something - or certainly someone with a more advanced University education than mine.  There seems to be a right way up and a wrong way up for these pillows, and unless you hit the sweet spot exactly right, you're in for hours of restlessness.  Trust me to buy the world's only complicated pillows.  But I'm now toying with the idea of buying a memory foam mattress topper, reasoning that if I cocoon myself in memory foam I might just have half the chance at getting a good night's sleep.  I wonder if Amazon sells memory foam pyjamas?  Might get my Google on and see.

I visited Chicago the other weekend, and you know what that does to my constitution.  It is so nice to get back to a place where I still feel at home, where things and people are so familiar to me.  I did step out of my comfort zone a little bit and spent a few hours at the Elizabeth Arden Red Door day spa.  Admittedly it required a substantial relaxation of my no-touch policy, but it was worth it.  Plus I was the youngest woman in there by about 20 years, and that always helps.  Exploring Andersonville and some delicious restaurants and even back down to my old neighbourhood for Sunday Showtunes with friends new and old gave me a wonderful and relaxing extra-long weekend.

It was also nice to have a break from thinking about my new studio apartment in New York.  I love my new neighbourhood but as everybody knows I'm just not into the home-decorating "thing".  If I could leave my apartment beige for the duration of my lease, I totally would.  And certainly when I moved in the place was very depressing and a sad, blank canvas.  But I have done my best (with limited interest) to spruce it up. It is by no means finished of course but it is at least habitable now and perfect just for me.  What is even more perfect is my proximity to everything.  Chelsea is great for my transport to work (or anywhere else I might like to go), and I can see the Empire State Building from the top of my street - not all of it, mind you, but it's totally there.  Plus I have a great little tapas bar literally next door to my building, and many other dining options besides.

I have also lapsed into a much different New York lifestyle than I had before.  For one thing, I send my laundry out to be done these days.  Only across the street, but still.  It's hard to look strangers in the eye when you know they've washed your underwear.  ARGH it has been a stumbling block, and one I'm still not totally convinced I'm over.  Maybe I have thought too much about this stuff, and maybe this is why my neck and shoulders are sore?  Possibly.  Plus I am only using my oven for storage these days.  I've lived in the new place for 6 weeks already and I haven't turned my oven or stove on once.  And you know I love to cook.  But there's just no need anymore.  With tapas right there, or Thai just there, or pizza over there, or Middle Eastern up the road, the motivation to cook for myself just isn't there.  Told you, total New York lifestyle.  But at least I know that in the laundry and oven stakes, I'm not alone.  So many people here live like this and so I'm getting on board with that.

And so on the one-year anniversary of the NYC Half-Marathon, it's clear that so much has changed for me - physically, socially, geographically.  But I still love it here.  There is nothing about New York that makes me bored or tired or even grouchy - certainly not enough to consider moving somewhere else just yet.  And moving into a bachelorette pad has had its growing pains and challenges.  But it has dragged me out of a comfort zone and into a new neighbourhood I never dreamed I'd get to live in.  All good things so far, and surely more to come.

Hello, is anybody there?

Twisselman Road, Lost Hills, California
Originally uploaded by rantfoil.

The funny thing about being an orphan over here is that on major holidays, like Thanksgiving and Christmas, a big city like Chicago is able to transform itself into a landscape resembling post-nuclear war earth.

The streets are pretty much deserted, you don't need to wait for a washing machine in the laundry room, and the elevator in my building runs express all the way to my floor. It's seriously like no one is around.

You know it's coming because on the workday before the major holiday, the buses are full of people in jeans straddling their stuffed suitcases as they all get the hell outta Dodge for the big event.

And when they finally make it to O'Hare or Midway, the city is left empty, wondering what it did wrong to clear out so quickly.

But I don't mind it at all. It's nice not to have to wait too long for a cab, or a great seat in a restaurant. The only people I seem to be waiting behind are tourists, and they don't really know what they're doing anyway so I can get around them fairly quickly too.

The thing about this apocalypse though, is that life will return to normal on Monday morning. I will have to stand on the bus ride to (and possibly from) work, wait about 3 minutes for my coffee (shock, horror!) and be more strategic when it comes time to do my laundry. Ahh the rat race, how I have missed you.

Bring Out Your Candy!

I congratulated myself on surviving my first American Thanksgiving, and not making too big a pig of myself either. And there I was thinking that the next big celebration to come is Christmas.

No one - not my room mates; not the newspapers; not even Hallmark Cards - thought to inform me about the 5 December visit of St Nicholas!

I always thought that St Nicholas and Father Christmas were the same person. But to the Americans, they are clearly not. Oh there are some similarities, though. Both visitors are nocturnal and, to my knowledge, fat old farts with beards.

But where Father Christmas specialises in depositing gifts under trees resplendent with twinky lights and candy canes, the sole mission of St Nicholas is to visit households in the dead of night and leave leftover Halloween candy in the stockings that have been hung by the chimney with care.

Oh okay now that I write that, I understand the next line of that rhyme...in the hope that St Nicholas soon will be there. But am I correct friends, in recalling that the rhyme is called Twas the Night Before Christmas? Do you think that's because Twas the 5th of December sounded crap? Because it does, you can admit it. I won't tell anyone.

Anyway, St Nicholas did leave me some candy in my stocking - so much so that it collapsed from its perch on the mantlepiece and instead was resting on the coffee table.

I do love St Nicholas. I just hope that Father Christmas was watching, and can see the high standard that has been set for him.

That name again is Mr Plough

wintertree
Originally uploaded by dekoekkoek.

I awoke this morning to realise that Grace Street was buried somewhere under a few inches of freshly-fallen snow.

The nocturnal flurries had blanketed the road and all the cars with crunchy ice and snow, and the effect was just beautiful.

I walked to the bus stop looking like a little eskimo and, no kidding, the snow was falling like little shreds of toilet paper floating through the air.

Once I got downtown though, things looked decidedly bleaker. The dry snow had given way to a wet drizzle and the puddles and greyness dulled my spirits somewhat. Even a warming Starbucks couldn't lift me out of the fug.

But the promise of drinks after work today, and a free ticket to "The Producers" on Monday night is buoying me slightly. And by 'slightly', I mean 'a lot'.

Happy Thanksgiving!!