Okay, so I'm getting ready to go out for dinner and drinks on a Saturday night in Nairobi. I'm headed to an Italian restaurant on Muthithi Road called Acapulco, with my friend Juliette and her mother Margaret.
Juliette is the really cool young scientist I hung out with on the anniversary of my sister Julie's passing. I'll never be able to thank her enough for helping make that day feel like just another day.
Of course, the fact that I'm going out with her and her mother....and they're BOTH younger than me.....isn't exactly putting me in a party-girl mood. But at least I'm breaking patterns and putting myself out there.
Although...come to think of it, going to an Italian restaurant named after a city in Mexico and located in East Africa is probably a blueprint for bitter frustration and mild food poisoning. I swear to you, the only good Italian food I've had in Nairobi so far has come from my own kitchen. I say this without the slightest hint of vanity....I make the meanest spaghetti with wild mushrooms, black olives, sundried tomatoes, prosciutto and white wine that has ever passed mine or anybody else's lips.
But that's not the point. At least I'm making a concerted effort to be more social, to drag my ass off this astonishingly uncomfortable couch and out into the world on a Saturday night. So even if the food at Acapulco sucks ass, at least I'm giving it the old college try.
Wish me luck......
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