It is the day before Thanksgiving and I am at Carrefour hopelessly searching for a meat thermometer and pie crusts. This seems to happen to me every year and my Chinese is so bad that I cannot even begin to describe what I want and have it make any sense. And if I could describe it then it really wouldn't make any sense. Not many ovens here to cook a Turkey or bake a pie.

There is much to be thankful for every Thanksgiving; especially if one tries hard enough. This year I worked from home for the day so that I could cook the turkey, mash the sweet potatoes, buy the appetizers, and bake the pie. It all went pretty well despite the various conversions. F to C, ounce to gram, and lost American to chef.

Yang's mom arrived around 4pm and the kids shortly after. Yang got back from tennis around 5 and another couple came with salad and two types of mashed potatoes in toe. We had a half drunken bottle of whiskey from last thanksgiving that Yang and one of the other foreign man rechristened. Me, since tomorrow was a work day, stuck to beer. Yang's mom was in a mood few could remember and she even had a glass of watered down whisky.

I asked the vegetarian of the group to carve the Turkey, Lydia's friend Emily joined us, and the meal was served. This year, unlike past years, everyone actually sat around the table and there was no competing Chinese food meal. I even caught out ayi trying out the chips and dip. Chips and dip being a requirement of any Allio holiday celebration. After the meal we sat around and digested. Uncomfortably full but no ill which was a comfort to me as I was a bit worried about our locally sourced, non-refrigerated Turkey. Our guests had only loosely heard of Gangnam Style so I had to play variations of it on the TV for them about 10 times. (Gangnam Style is super popular hear to the point that a team building exercise at a recent offsite had me publically dancing it. At least it wasn't caught on video. Oh, wait, it was.)

After a while we head downstairs to a bar that we affectionately care "UA Lounge" since United Airlines employees used to frequent it when they used to stay at a hotel nearby. I should clarify that not all UA employees visited it, only the more deviant ones. Much to our surprise Yang's mom wanted to join us in the UA Lounge so we left Aidan to bath Elisa and headed downstairs. The ayi was left home to wash the pile of dishes, watch after the kids, and destroy the rest of the chips.

Once downstairs with Yang, her mom, and our friend's wife I had a couple of strange thoughts. The first was that Yang's mom and my Dad are both single. Now that's enough to disturb any meal. The second was that the three ladies pictured below each appeal to a different generation of patrons at the UA lounge with Yang covering the younger crowd.