For Thanksgiving we went to some friends’ house, people who are sterling hosts who tolerate, say, you trying to demonstrate what you learned in aikido like a drunk kindergartner who just learned how to walk a curb or jump off a couch, and then instead of making a point of checking their watch they’ll actually give you another beer while you somersault into their furniture.

Our contribution to the meal was an apple pie.  Only our oven here, instead of having hundreds of degree settings, just has a knob labeled 1-2-3-4.  And you have to light the oven each time you use it, and when the little buildup of gas ignites with a whoosh! the backdraft blows your match out and flutters your hair.  The fact that we have so little control over the temperature means that each time our pies come out differently, probably how the pilgrim’s pies came out kind of different each time, since we both basically stick the whole thing over an open flame.

Thanksgiving was wonderful.  I did not eat the turkey with my bare hands.

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At a BBQ this weekend a three year old noticed my tiny tattoo, a dinky little red fish on the inside of my wrist that I bought for $20 in 1995 and is mine forever.  I showed her how the little fish can swim if you tug the skin, and talked about how it can swim up my arm and out my shoulder.  I licked my finger and rubbed at it, to show its permanence.  Which it seems was news to her, that grown ups have tattoos that don’t wash off.  When her excitement about the forever factor reached a certain height, she asked me in a serious voice if I would talk to her mother about permanent tattoos.  In that way that small kids have where they try to be casually persuasive about something that is secretly really important to them.  Next BBQ I think I will bring some Slayer records.

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This one goes out to all the people looking for some Indian food in Bishkek:  There’s a new stall in Bishkek City (Karpinka between Chui and Ogonbaev) with Indian meals ready-to-eat and packets of spices labeled “HYGIENIC, FLAVOURFUL & TASTY”.   The stall is staffed by a Russian woman who is selectively deaf and no matter how many times you say no bag thanks, no bag thanks, no bag thanks, she will place your purchases in a bag and hand them over with your change.  But yahoo!  Chana masala carnivala!

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Getting a jump on the holiday shopping season!   Trying to locate online a personal care product that my uncle, a used car salesman living in Las Vegas, has requested.  This is the product description:

• SPF 15
• 4 oz tube
• Made in the USA
• Flammable

FLAMMABLE.  Tattooed vague ovens masala shave balm in a bag thanks!  Happy holidays!

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