I phoned my brother during the late afternoon today, which meant that it was pushing midnight in BC. "You're calling me from JAPAN? That's so cool," he slurred. Uh, yeah dude. I'm kinda living here... Sandy's working as a firefighter in Kamloops, BC, and now for the second year in a row, he's travelled down to Vancouver with a group of other firefighters to string Christmas lights up in Stanely Park for some children's charity. The had finished their work for the day, and had moved on to some pub to celebrate a job well done.
"Did you tell that Japanese creeper to screw off?"
"Nah, man, I haven't dealt with it yet."
"WHAT? Did you get my email? I dressed up like Mike Holmes from Holmes on Homes for Halloween, and I sent you a picture... I look really scary. You can show it to the dude and say 'HE NO APPROVE'."
"What? Who is Mike Holmes?"
"He has a home improvement show..."
"I have no idea, man. I'll Google him."
"So, what's new?"

So, what's new, what's new... Went to Jeff's Annual American Thanksgiving Party last night; I half thought about cancelling, because it was raining. Then I remembered... the smell of turkey. Stuffing. Mashed potatoes. Didn't I say a month ago that I could do without this stuff? I lied. I braved the rain and the dark and the windy kilometer-long bridge, and arrived dripping wet, the first guest. Just in time to mash the potatoes. The cheesy, garlicky, buttery mashed potatoes. Jeff also made lovely little spinach balls, and was surprised to find that no-one else had made or eaten them before. Eventually he had a pretty good turnout; Me, Tomomi, Calvin, Maz, Andy, Jenna, Kat and Melissa. Pretty much everyone brought a bottle of wine, and most of the evening was spent quaffing the contents of the various bottles, praising the spinach balls, talking trivia, and avoiding Jeff's mean dog 'Buu', who is inclined to bite strangers. We also listened to Bani's karaoke recordings. Have you ever heard a largish Australian-Assyrian man sing 'Man, I Feel Like a Woman' by Shania Twain? It's an unparalleled experience.

Today saw me finding my way to the Uchimachi Culture Fair, where some of my artwork was on display. It was a lovely little community 'do, with gorgeous diplays of Japanese quilting, miniature gardening, photography, and artwork by various hobbyists and professionals. I went with Satoshi, and my friends Miho and Yasu joined up with us for a little while. In the farthest room there were tables set up with ink and fruits and vegetables and an encouraging volunteer; I found Miho and Yasu conspiring like kindergarteners at one corner as they painted a red pepper and a bunch of mushrooms, respectively. I sat next to an older lady and we shared a kaki (persimmon) as model between us. It was fun to paint a postcard and have the white-haired ladies come and peer over my shoulder, chanting 'jouzu, jouzu!' After we all finished, the sensei stamped our postcards with the hiragana for the first part of our names ('mi' for Miho, 'ya' for Yasu, 'e' for Endrene). Miho and Yasu left shortly after I had relocated Satoshi, who had been doggedly avoiding an overtalkative gentleman. We went for coffee and shot the breeze for a while, then parted; he for an early night at home, and me-- well, here I am, but I've been traipsing around a bit before now.

I've been going out a little bit more frequently lately, but I'm thinking about dropping of the face of the Tokushima-Night-Life earth, as my natural tendency to attract oddballs has been landing me in one creepy situation after another. I know Bubu thinks that I am responsible for some of the further graying of his hairs: "Sometime you make me more worried than my own daughter!" Probably I tell him and his wife too much about my goings-on, but it's nice to have someone worrying after you. Even if it means that he counts the nights that my apartment light isn't on when he walks home, and then accuses me of "over-play" the next time he sees me. Tonight (avoiding the enormous task of writing and addressing Christmas cards) I cooked them some apples (I found some for only 98 yen a piece!) in brown sugar and nutmeg and placed them, still-warm, on a layer of cookies, and hoofed it over to the shop.
"Remember how I promised to make you apple pie?"
Bubu poked at the plastic wrap and lifted the bowl into the light to inspect it. "This is apple pie?"
"Well..." It was the best I could do without an oven. "It's apple pie En-chan style."
Haruko thouroughly enjoyed the apples and asked for cooking directions. Success! We got to talking about why my apartment was dark last night.
"I went to a Thanksgiving dinner."
"Oh? What foods did you eat?"
"Mashed potatoes, stuffing, turkey-"
"Wait, wait, wait, chotto matte-yo, chotto-matte-yo... What? Turkey?"
Turns out turkey is the stuff of dreams. In the Land of No Ovens, the concept of buying and cooking a forigen twenty-pound bird seems well-nigh impossible. With round eyes, Haruko gestured hugely, indicating a big bird, and I nodded-- yes, it was a big bird. I forget sometimes that normalacy is all relative. I explained how Jeff had brought his American oven over in a cargo container, how he had bought the turkey from the Foriegn Buyers Club. Bubu and Haruko pressed me for details of a turkey's appearance, preparation, flavour.
"We have never tasted like this," he said wistfully.
Suddenly I remembered the leg Jeff had sent me home with. "Do you want to? Do you want to try turkey right now?" I scampered to my apartment and back in less than five minutes; the size of the drumstick was exclaimed over, and they both sniffed it curiously. I left, feeling I had done a good deed. Not five minutes after I was back home again, my phone rang; Bubu was making a dinner delivery as a show of thanks. Miso soup! Rice! Shredded cabbage and potato croquettes! That's what this girl likes. Besides... I've joined the Japanese camp on one opinion; I genuinely reccomend a Japanese diet to any regular gas sufferer!