I'm also thankful for inflatable aliens, lariats and so much more... Photo by Tui Cameron

Got this Thanksgiving text message today from my pal, Woofmutt:

I’m thankful for text messaging which takes minimal effort yet lets me feel like I’m interacting with people in a meaningful way.

I’ve known him since we were kids and he always been witty and observant. Before deleting his text messages, I generally jot them into my digital journal. Here are a few more that I kept, for instance:

Things Learned From Movies & TV: If you know there’s someone who might want to kill you, never take a bath with a TV or radio nearby.

Watching “Where the Wild Things ARe: Movie cliche: At the top of a high cliff a character looks to see a single rock fall into the sea below.

I’m in Walla Walla, the town so nice they named it Walla Walla instead of Bastardvania.

Getting back to Thanksgiving, here is something I want to know. Why do the Dallas Cowboys call themselves, “America’s football team”? The official tourist slogan for Texas is, “Texas – It’s like a whole other country.” OK, then, Texas. Tell us how unique you are. I get it. But then, you turn around and claim that your football team represents the whole country? C’mon, Texas, which is it? Are you a rugged maverick or everyman USA?

Last year, I celebrated Thanksgiving in England with my step-daughter, her hubby, and his folks. Pumpkin pie was a foreign concept to them until my step-daughter arrived, bearing exotic American recipes and wicked culinary skills.

It is funny how often Americans think Thanksgiving is celebrated around the world. I remember when someone asked my British son-in-law if the English celebrate Thanksgiving. We were just getting to know him, and I felt so embarrassed. He handled it well, though. NYC Caribbean Ragazza recently mentioned on her blog that people often ask her if Thanksgiving is celebrated in Italy. Funny, eh? Maybe if they ran this video as a public service announcement every year it would refresh the public’s collective memory of the true meaning of Thanksgiving  (then again, maybe not.)

Anyway, I am off to eat homemade sweet potato chips and dip. Later, I’ll probably text some loved ones. Happy Thanksgiving to all y’all wherever you may be!

Voila! I have, at long last, visual proof that turkey pants, err, trousers, I mean, were actually worn by our London bird. In England, you see, ‘pants’ means ‘underpants.’ I discovered my faux pas after cheerily announcing that I had brought a pair of turkey pants, only to have a dinner guest reply, “I beg your pardon?” in that quintessentially British way, the very tone of which informed me I had – yet again – put my Yankee foot in my Yankee mouth.

My step-daughter, Naomi, created a fantastic Thanksgiving feast, starting with scrumptious bruschetta and ending with a key lime tart. We had all the usual suspects, too: mashed potatoes, stuffing, cranberry sauce, but the cranberry sauce was homemade, and there were some incredible turnips au gratin in the mix, too. She and my son-in-law are foodies extraordinaire, so there were plenty of photos taken of the spread. It was pretty as well as tasty!

There was no need to thaw our trousered Tom since he came from a nearby farm. That’s something I love about London; once you get out of the city center, there’s a surprising amount of countryside and greenspace. There are cows, crops, and sheep a-plenty right by Heathrow, for instance.

Our main London wildlife sighting this time were foxes we’d see darting through the chilly night as we walked home from restaurants and pubs. Naomi told us about one who frequents her backyard. The wily vixen stole a pair of her shoes, returned one nibbled sandal, then made off with a glove. (Did I get that right, Gnome? I was pretty jet-lagged when you told the tale.)

Apparently, fox have a thing for shoes. I typed “shoe stealing fox” into Google and found a bunch of incidents, including an article about a German fox who stole over 120 pairs of shoes for her kits to play with.

I usually visit Naomi and Max during warmer weather, which means that a picnic in Richmond Park is in order, but it was way too cold to ponder that. Still, I love the huge herds of deer roaming there. Plus, the trees and undergrowth remind me of what I’ve seen depicted in children’s book illustrations, which gives me a delightful fairytale feeling. I wouldn’t be surprised at all to hear the Pipes of Pan when I’m there, or to fall into a fairy mound. However, fairy mound or no, our Thanksgiving in London was truly magical and went by way too quickly!