We've got to meet the very ginger and very awesome Sara Myers through another fellow-American Carol, and since we're all on a similar journey of self/spiritual/figuring-life-and-trying-to-have-some-fun-in-the-process discovery, we clicked immediately.
Sara is a peculiar little squirrel brimming with untapped (sexual) energy - her flight's been delayed by a strict Christian upbringing - pouring out of her through music (she's a music teacher) and a child-like excitement about anything naughty and (seemingly) forbidden.
This year - much to Carol's excitement (as she misses her stuffing+cranberry sauce immensely), Sara hosted what would be her (AND OURS) first (and what will possibly remains the best) Thanksgiving in London.
Surprise No.1: sweet potato casserole that I volunteered to prepare (and tried my best to keep at least semi-healthy against the sugar and butter loaded recipe Sara's mum passed onto me) is actually a sweet dish with sugar glazed nuts on top. Surprise No.2: it's not a dessert as this too goes on the eclectic thanksgiving plate alongside with just about EVERYTHING you can think of, and Surprise No.3: IT WORKS! Few days later I'm still digesting, but already can't wait for the next year.
We met some new awesome people - Irina from Belarus (who in an Eastern-European act of solidarity passed her cold sore onto me) with the most spellbinding eyes north of the river, an aspiring actress Angela with the world's most untraceable accent (mind you very good for acting) - a by-product of being born in England, but living in between Australia and Canada most of her life, and with a shared appreciation of the fascinating stories surrounding the silver screen Hollywood sirens and the phenomena of ageing actresses and the deep chasms it digs in their fragile souls.
Also a very re-assuring English-Spanish couple with their 3 month old baby (also a Leo born just a day before me, hence lots of jokes about the horrors awaiting them as parents), who just refuse to put their (social) lives on hold just because they now multiplied from a couple into a family.
I was holding the fellow-lion micro-boy, chatting to his mum who - with a keen eye often found in this human species - noticed that little gleam of broodiness in my eyes. I said yes, of course I'd want one myself at some point, a family of at least a million babies if only that was financially feasible and isn't it awful we let the stupid money dictate if/when/how many offsprings we bring to the world.
She immediately dismissed this carefully constructed counter-argument.
As a new parent you only loose money and friends, if you start spending money and stop seeing your friends. Kids grow super fast, no one has any use for babies clothes so they just pass it onto you. And if you wait until you're ready, you'll be waiting forever. You can't become a (good)parent before having a child.
Of course there's ideal scenarios of having enough funds to live comfortably with a baby in the picture (never in London), and more importantly a love story playing in the background big enough to extend to another little human being,
but in the end life and it's timing defies 'ideal'.
Somehow that way - by being real and still chilled (I'm sure the THC vaping concotions that the dad mixes himself from ingredients sweeped out of the dark corners of internet do help with that) and happy - they sell you the idea of parenting even more...also their baby is super tranquil, which might have something to do with the fact his mum apparently tried some trippy mushrooms for the first time in her life last, not knowing she'd been already pregnant at that time.
As I said..life - parenting including - will always resist 'ideal'.
And that's part of the fun.
You see the best thing about this Thanksgiving business for me is people coming together. Dressing up maybe a little bit nicer than they normally would, putting that extra thought into the meal and how it all comes together, meeting new people, learning about new stories of how people came to be here in London and how they met each other and what made them be who they are and do what they do.
That right there is a reason why I could never say 'fuckitall' and retire to an abandoned cabin in Alaska, no matter how hard London tries to push me that way.
