Last Sunday we had a power outage at Wellington Road. It was an individual fault, our second in five years. I was supposed to be baking a cake for the cake stall at the school fair. But, no. Instead we put the meat and fish that I had just bought in the chilly bin (Kiwi for cooler). And made coffee on the camping stove.
![Sunday morning.](http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4132/5196288815_124eca6ebc.jpg)
And there was the school fair. Sans cake.
![3 slides for $3.](http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4091/5196377627_297c8b217f.jpg)
![The stage.](http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4090/5196385563_ca1050f86b.jpg)
![Greasy Hangi at the fair.](http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4124/5196288767_5c0d2b0cd3.jpg)
How am I supposed to write a novel when life keeps interrupting me?
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Yesterday was Thanksgiving. As you can imagine (and I've probably mentioned), Thanksgiving in New Zealand is pointless. There are no comparable Kiwi holidays. But Adam humours me. Because on holidays I turn into a sentimental sap.
The weather has just turned scorching hot. Spring lamb on the barbecue, asparagus, and strawberries make more sense than a big roast dinner to celebrate an abundant harvest. Some years I have plans to create a merry and festive Thanksgiving ritual. Of course none of these plans actually happen. Maybe next year.
I am grateful for the abundance of good things in my life. Even more so after the recent tragedy with the 29 Pike River miners in New Zealand. Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!
![Thanksgiving in NZ.](http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4108/5209817439_24b4eb8152.jpg)