Thanksgiving

My first Thanksgiving. When I was here in 2007 at this time of year, I skipped town with Nick, Tiffany and Anthony; we headed to Vegas. This time I'm not just visiting and scored an invitation to Thanksgiving dinner with Regi and his friends. Mark and Karen provided their home and Regi provided The Turkey. A 26 pound bird that barely fit in his ancient oven, Regi spent about a day and a half preparing it; 24 hours in brine, and several more in the oven with regular basting. He refused to give up his stuffing recipe, but it was a delicious concoction which included figs, ginger, croutons, some kind of liqueur and... secret herbs and spices. All up, it was quite a spread; turkey, two kinds of stuffing (Mark made a traditional batch, which seemed to include beans, onion, garlic, breadcrumbs), cranberry sauce, yams (sweet potatoes), mashed potatoes, sauteed green beans, pumpkin pie and apple pie. We were joined by Michael, Steve and Stacy, and a merry group we were, full of opinions and good humour. Conversation ranged from the quirks of the Aussie accent, through national treasures and embarrassments (Aussie and U.S.), So You Think You Can Dance (and my Mary Murphy impersonation; the frozen face of shrieking hysteria) and American Idol through to cross-dressing and transgender surgery.

Emily is away this weekend, spending the holiday with her family, which puts me in charge of the warring cats and their litter trays. Not my favourite thing. I like cats, but I'm not a big fan of keeping them in an apartment with no outside access, forcing them to use litter trays indoors. Both cats are very good about using their respective litter trays, but it's still a stinky job to remove the poop and refresh the litter. Bleurrgghh! Pilot is such a bully, any chance he gets he corners Pearl (the young interloper) under Emily's bed. This is a safe spot for Pearl because Emily stores a lot of stuff under her bed and with Pilot's partial blindness, he can't see her under there. Besides which, I don't think he really cares whether or not he gets the chance to jump her, he seems content to simply bail her up and deny her access to the rest of the house; in other words, let her know who's boss.

Cat grumbles aside, I have much to be thankful for. I'm very lucky to have scored a green card and the opportunity of living and working here, pursuing my dreams. I feel so very welcomed by the people I meet in my new home, the new friends I'm making. I also feel loved and supported by my dear friends and family in Melbourne (and Paris), I know that if I reach a point where L.A. no longer feels like the right place to be, that I'll be welcomed back in my old home.

Tomorrow night, I'm meeting with some of my new actor friends to read some of my short plays, with view to putting a show together. It will be interesting to see how well they 'translate', I suspect some will need a bit of tweaking and some may simply not work at all. But hearing new voices (and accents) reading them will no doubt provide me with inspiration to write new material.

As I write this, I'm half-watching Footloose starring a very young Kevin Bacon, Sarah Jessica Parker and John Lithgow. Oh, those 80's bouffant hairstyles! Oh, those high-waisted jeans! Oh, that awesome 80's soundtrack!