In which I give thanks (a week late), etc.

Hi everyone. I know, I KNOW, it's been ages. In other news, I've decided to just use this blog to write about whatever the fuck (sorry, mom) I want, instead of trying really hard to make it lofty and meaningful, as previously planned. That said, I hope it is still either of those things to some people (hi, mom).

About a month ago, Tom and I got to talking. We decided (I suggested) that it'd be really great to have a celebratory Thanksgiving evening of sorts with some close friends and family, calling it (rather creatively) "An American Thanksgiving." We had this particular event on Sunday. It was, if I do say so myself (I do), a smashing success. Everyone had a lovely time (it appeared); bonds were made, tasty food was consumed and new traditions were made in the grand spirit of experimentation. Tom cooked a turkey for the first time, it was magical (FYI- I've essentially given up on my vegetarianism. I don't wish to elaborate, either). I made a gigantic pumpkin pie for the first time, it too was rather impressive (tip- add twice the recommended amount of cinnamon). Shout out to Sam and Matt for their adorable, ADORABLE cupcakes with little edible pilgrim hats! (Basically the cutest thing in history). On a heavier note (ugh, sorry), the whole evening really got me thinking about how much I take for granted. As much as I moan and cry, I've really got a whole heck of a lot to be thankful for. The reality is, I'm living on the other side of the world with the warmest, most generous and accepting surrogate family anyone could ever ask for. For this, I am eternally grateful. Speaking of family, how fucking (sorry again, mom) excited am I that my parents are coming here to visit in early January?!!?!??! AHHHH!!!!! I'm confident that M and M will greatly appreciate the wonder and whimsy of Aotearoa as much as I do.


Whilst toiling away on the elliptical yesterday at the gym, I watched the profoundly moving memorial to the Pike River miners on tele. For those unaware of the situation, on November 19, there was a large explosion in the mine in Greymouth that trapped 29 men underground. Due to the risk of another explosion, rescue workers did not attempt to enter the mine. Five days later, another explosion occured and it was determined that none of the men could've survived. This is, from what I understand, one of the worst national disasters to ever befall New Zealand. As I watched the memorial, breath bated and misty eyed, I was really proud to be here. I'm not sure if proud is really the appropriate word, but I was just very impressed by what I can only assume is the inborn compassion that Kiwi's have for their fellow countrymen. It all just seemed so much more sincere than any of the nationally sponsored American remembrance services I've seen. Perhaps this is due to the fact that NZ is a much smaller, and consequently more connected culture? Something I was really surprised by, however, was the religious presence at the event (for the record, I have no problem with this). Perhaps one of my Kiwi followers (all, what, 2 of you?) could explain this a bit to me? I just assumed (falsely, apparently) that in a country with an Atheist PM and a reputation for secularism that there wouldn't be a succession of priests reading scripture during the service?





That's all from me for now. Until next week (REALLY THIS TIME).