I have a confession. I was talking to my agent in Hong Kong on the phone today and mentioned that we would be out of the office for Thanksgiving for the rest of the week. The conversation proceeded to go as follows:

Me: Are you familiar with Thanksgiving?
Louise in Hong Kong: Ahh...no.
Me: Well...it's a celebration...with a big feast. 'Cause when America started, the Indians or Native Americans were here. And then Columbus came. And then they were called 'pilgrims.' And then they had a feast between all of them.
Louise in Hong Kong: Ahh...
Me: Yeah and there's always a turkey. A big one. Um...not really sure why.
Louise in Hong Kong: Have nice holiday!

Yes, I completely lost the actual story of Thanksgiving somewhere between eight and twenty four years old. But, hey, Thanksgiving isn't about pilgrims anyway. It's about being thankful.

So, let us give thanks:

Thanks to my parents for never allowing me to rely on them to bring me my homework at school when I forgot it -- I'm responsible now. Thanks to my dad for teaching me independence by telling me "You can turn the thermostat down to sixty-eight when you have your own house!" Thanks to my sister for teaching me tolerance, when she used to make me listen to Lisa Loeb "Stay" every morning in her 1994 Neon on our way to school. Thanks to my mom, for giving me my dog Gus, and thanks to Gus for reminding me what it is to lose someone you love. Thanks to Chubby Charles for teaching me that you can in fact have an Ivory Cat anytime you want. Thanks to my coworkers for making me laugh when Bangkok airports get shut down due to "political protests" (read: people carrying sticks chanting in the terminals). Thanks to George W. Bush for giving me a voice, and thanks to FUBAR for giving me an audience. Thanks to Obama for reminding me of accountability, and his supporters for restoring my faith. Thanks to all the lovely people I've encountered who have made 2008 a better year, a better country, and a better world.

Happy Thanksgiving.

Quite a bit has happened over the last few weeks. America elected a new president, I'm moving (and surprisingly not dreading it) at the end of January, and Billy Joel is playing in Las Vegas on Valentine's Day. This year when I ask my family the annual Thanksgiving question of "Do you think the world is getting better or worse?" I intend to have a new answer.

Things make sense and I'm feeling peaceful. There's not a lot to be mean about when you start to feel that way.

Vienna waits for you, after all.

I happened to notice this news item about Mrs. Bush showing Mrs. Obama around the White House today, offering advice on interior decorating, shoulder pads and...well, that's it, I guess.

In the name of bipartisanship, I thought I'd offer Mrs. Bush some advice on what I like to refer to as "Living in the Rest of the World: Or Whatever You Call the Shambles Your Husband Left It In," now that Mrs. Boxwood is due to be reentering the atmosphere.

1. G-Dub really f-ed up the economy. Take your money out of the stock market. Or, if you're like the rest of us, you didn't have any money in it to begin with minus that random IRA you signed up for once, so thank the 8 lb. baby Jeebus and move on.

2. You should no longer travel to Iraq on a desert vacay, no matter what Lonely Planet says. That whole electrical plug advice on their site? That's assuming there are outlets, which is a vast declaration of faith in your husband's democracy-spreading. Leave the hot-rollers back at the ranch. And that "Ongoing Turmoil" thing? Yeah. Might want to ask your loving W about that.

3. There's a fuel shortage. But only if you ask Exxon-Mobil. And if you squint your eyes realllly tightly, you can almost pretend that $10,000000000 in record profits is actually just a big zero. Poor guys.

4. I'm glad you're trying to save the sharks and all but don't you think it's a little late to be worrying about the environment? In case you didn't realize (those fences around the White House are real tall-like), the ice caps are melting, the Earth is heating up, and your hubby allowed Texas to become the most polluted state in the country when he was Governor. Enjoy your Crawford sunset.

5. Over ten million Americans are jobless. Wait, nevermind -- make that ten million and one. At least Georgie will have plenty of support groups to join.

Just a reminder to everybody that I will be doing the monologues for Cold Towne Theater's Stool Pigeon improv comedy show tonight. Come on out! Show starts at 8 PM!

This is not about Barack Obama.

I’ve stared at that photo, which surfaced on my radar in the wake of his election on Wednesday morning, for minutes at a time, several times. I’ve studied the curve of his chin meeting his lip, the wrinkle carved by his smile, and the oversized watch resting on his narrow wrist. I’ve tried to peer under his eyelids, feel the crease on his shirt sleeve, and yearned to hear the thoughts in his head. I’ve shook his hand holding that ice cream cone, I’ve walked miles for the change he promises to create and I’ve cried for the hope that his presence brings.

But after all of that, after I’ve placed my entire focus on our President-elect Barack Obama, I can’t help but stare down at the spot on the counter where the napkin crumples on the laminate, wiping away some unseen impurity.

This is not about Barack Obama.

The victory on Tuesday: the tears or the joy, the trembling lip of Jesse Jackson or the six year-old girl standing next to me, the powerful speech or the thoughts racing through my head.

The people I met in Austin or New Mexico, on dingy tour buses or at donated card tables. The woman in the clogs or the man in the cowboy boots. The State Trooper who pulled me over and said “Nice plates” or the old Texas man who towed my car saying “Why, I kinda’ like the guy.” The block walkers or the phone bankers. The old ladies with big hats or the young men with big egos. The old faces or the new faces – the same faces at 10:00 PM Tuesday night.

This is not about Barack Obama.

This is about the napkin on that counter. We can all have a part in cleansing the impurities of America. We can assume that someone else will do it for us, we can hope Obama will on his own, or we can begin now ourselves.

This is not about Barack Obama, or his campaign strategy, or his historic win. His vision might have opened our eyes but it’s time we see our own future and realize it.

Join us.

Still trying to find the words.

In the meantime, I'm going to be the monologist for Stool Pigeon again on Saturday night at 8 PM. If you've got it in you, come out. Last time the show sold out and the Coo's weren't able to get in, so come early if you do. Deets here.

I'm going to try (emphasis on try, assuming I'm not bawling/screaming/running down Congress enraged/etc.) to Twitter my thoughts as the election results come in tonight. Follow me here, or on TwitterVoteReport!

I've had a lot of time to think today, having come down with something that seems to resemble pneumonia over the last couple of weeks. This much time on my hands two days before the election has resulted in me counting my eggs, carefully and nervously, before they hatch. Here's my imaginary Obama speech (in case you thought I had a life before).

Chicago; America; People of the World:

Tonight I stand before you as the President-elect of the United States of America. And tonight I can say, that as true as our forefathers were in writing the Constitution, change has come to America today.

America – I thank you.

In our moment of shared celebration tonight, take a second to look around you. You have already changed, your neighbors have already changed. Your families and your classmates have already changed. You traveled the country for change – or you walked down the block. You picked up a phone and made a call to an undecided voter for the first time or you picked up a few yard signs and passed them out to friends. You gave money or you gave your time. You gave as much as you could afford to spare in the name of change – and then you gave more. I said I couldn’t do it without you and America, I’m standing on this stage tonight to tell you that I didn’t.

There will be those who will resist change, even fear it. But it is easy to fear the unknown, and harder to work for it. It is harder to continue along the path for a better life for every American, where they have access to health care and a strong education. It is harder to see a day when our soldiers come home and Iraqis are able to govern themselves. It is harder to work for our independence from foreign oil and reduce our carbon footprint. It is harder to reflect on our failures and yes, even harder to correct our mistakes. America, you didn’t ask for this challenge but you have accepted it. We will continue to press on, knowing that our fears exhaust us but our struggles strengthen us. We will do just that because we know – we have seen, and as we stand here tonight, We. Can. See. – The fruits of our labor. We. Can. See. – The endless abilities of our combined efforts. We. Can. See. – The boundlessness of possibility. And We. Can. See. – The country of our children.

Today we saw both red states and blue states turn the page to a new state – the United States, one that does not see colors in red and blue, or black and white. This election has never been about me and tonight, as you look at those around you, at people of all colors and races; males and females; young and old, you can see why. I am proud to walk forward with you and I am thankful for your willingness to hope and your ability to work for change. Today, you didn’t just elect a candidate – you elected a country.

A phone call I made today to an 85 year old male who last voted for Democrats in 2006.

Me: And are you planning on voting on Tuesday?
Him: I reckon.
Me: Okay, and are you planning on voting Democratic?
Him: I haven't decided yet.
Me: You haven't decided yet!
Him: Yes'm.
Me: Well...have any nice girls like myself called you from the Republican party? Insert Sarah Palin wink here.
Him: (laughs) No, you're the only one.
Me: Well there's your answer right there!
Him: I'll prob'ly vote for the Democrats.
Me: Okay ______. Just remember on Tuesday what nice girl has called and asked for your vote and who hasn't.
Him: Yes'm, you know I'll be rememberin'.

GOTV is like the last mile in a road race. You've come so far, have wanted to plop down on the curb and eat a Krispe Kreme since the first half-mile, and are sick (in my case, literally) and tired of the whole thing. But you're passing by people cheering you on, and you can see the table full of bananas and Gatorade up ahead, and you can't help increasing speed. Taking a long look around, you realize it's the last few moments of something you've poured quite a bit of yourself into, and suddenly you wish you could run it all over again.