As I glance at my calendar, I see that Thanksgiving is almost upon us, Gentle Reader. What will you be doing on Turkey Day in Hawaii? Probably dining on local-kine goodies with your turkey, a pile of rubbah slippahs outside your door, maybe planning a little body-surfing after the pumpkin-haupia pie if the temperature gets above 85.

Me, I'll probably be listening to my husband crank up his chainsaw, wondering if I could cauterize a severed artery with a patchouli incense cone if I needed to. You see, I'm writing from my home in Dixie. Though I lived on Oahu for six years, and hope to return there in the not-so-distant future, I am living, for the moment, in The Rural South.

Certainly I don't need a calendar to tell me it's getting cold. Considerate as a new lover, the South provides warning signals for the beginning of each season. Early honeysuckle hails spring, roadside trucks selling watermelon are portends of summer, and $300 electric bills mean that winter has officially arrived. Signs of upcoming holidays are even easier. A wooden cross draped with purple Qiana in front of one's mobile home signifies that Easter is around the corner. The list below should help.

Top Ten Signs It's Almost Thanksgiving in Dixie*

10. The Wal-Mart has a sale on five-gallon tubs of deer urine, camouflage suits and beer.

9. Sweaty fat guys wearing old flannel shirts and brandishing rakes start setting their yards on fire.

8. Big sales of oyster pie fixins' at the Piggly-Wiggly.

7. Back-to-back broadcasts of the Beverly Hillbillies, Green Acres, and Petticoat Junction Thanksgiving episodes.

6. The distant roar of chainsaws.

5. Most popular Halloween costumes: Stone Cold for boys, Chyna for girls.

4. Your kid comes home with shotgun shells he picked up from the yard, and you yell at him for not wearing his safety orange John Deere cap when he goes outside.

3. Chicken bog church suppers.

2. Record-breaking Pay-Per-View sales for WWF No Mercy.

1. Two words (well, 3 with a hyphen): DEEP-FRIED TURKEY.

Now That We've Got THAT Out Of The Way…

What is it about Hawaii that compels me to remind you to give extra special thanks this Turkey Day, Gentle Reader? I have this odd sense of urgency about the whole thing, like a revivalist on a pulpit, imploring his flocks to repent or be damned. Of course, I'm probably preaching to the choir. You're there, after all. You know what it's like. You wake up every day and thank your god(s) that you live in Paradise, right?

And it's like nothing else, is it? Constant challenge and stimulation for sensualists. Such visions! Olomana's sharp green finger tickling the chin of a passing cloud… the liquid emerald and jade of the Pacific… Such sounds! The drone of a chant against the heartpulse of an ipu drum… the lilting singsong rhythm of speech. The fragrances! Pikake and jasmine and puakenekene, a riotous bacchanalia of scent one can almost get drunk on. And the tastes! Island tables offer a concatenated smorgasbord of foods, from the humblest spam musubi to the most elaborate Pacific Rim concoction. And oh, Hawaii's tactile beauty is tantalizing – soft winds cutting through wet heat, kissing a small bead of sweat from ones cheek, lifting a stray curl from ones brow…

Maybe a few of you have no idea how good you've got it there. The bottom line? Don't take it for granted. I knew it was time to leave Hawaii when I forgot to raise my head from my insignificant little life to look at Olomana scratching that cloud. Now that I'm planning an imminent return, I can only hope I've learned my lesson.

* Hey, this isn't meant to piss any reformed Southern folks off. Really.

Caroline Wright, of WRIGHT FOR YOU Word Services, is a freelance writer. A former resident of Hawaii, she now lives in rural South Carolina. Feel free to e-mail your comments to Caroline at kiihele@wrightforyou.com.