Really, if you're reading this, you should all consider abandoning family, friends, and everything that's comfortable and comforting and go live in a developing country for a couple of years. I'm telling you, it's an incredibly liberating experience. ESPECIALLY around this time of year.
That's my sarcastic way of admitting I hit a rough patch of late--emotionally, spiritually, creatively, the whole schmear. Still, I'm only being half sarcastic, because it is a tremendous relief for me to spend another Christmas in another African country, far from the madding crowd of American Yuletide mania. I haven't even thought about buying a single gift, ornament, decoration, card, nada. Zip. Nuthin'.
And once again, I've been spared the visual assault of Christmas season Stateside. Just the other day, in a cab on the way to work, I was considering how few holiday decorations there are in Nairobi public spaces when I started noticing these wiry Kenyan guys wearing Santa suits and passing out goodies near every traffic circle. I mean, there's no pretense of Santa as a merry, fat old gent over here, what with food shortages and such. These Skinny Black Santas are the only outward sign of the holiday season I've seen, and they make me laugh rather than tense up thinking how much shopping and baking I still need to do before Christmas Day.
Yep, there's nothing to stress me out about Christmas obligations over here. Now, in the interest of full disclosure, I must admit that I didn't completely abandon my holiday hostess proclivities this season. Just last Saturday, I had 7 people over for dinner, which was prepared on the equivalent of an adult-sized Easy Bake oven. I made a sirloin roast (with no meat thermometer or proper temperature gauge, it was all EXTREMELY well done), baked fish with capers and lemon, butternut squash risotto (the absolute HIT of the evening!), and herb roasted veggies. Without a proper dining table, our group of eight had to split up into to dining squads, but we all came together afterwards for Italian vanilla gelato and warm apple tart.
I usually don't like to brag, but this time, I gotta say, I knocked it outta the park, when you factor in the conditions I performed my culinary magic under.
Anyhoo, the post party let-down was huge. First, it took about 3 days to clean up afterwards. I swear, my love of cooking is surpassed only by how much I despise washing dishes. And even though I absolutely ADORE entertaining, once that party was history, the rest of the holiday season loomed like a big-assed threat. Don't worry, I've been invited to a handful of holiday bashes, and I'll go to all of them. But for some reason, unless I'm up to my elbows in pie crust or a turkey carcass filled with cornbread stuffing, I kinda feel bereft.
But you know what? I'm not going down that woeful path. I refuse to willingly hurl myself into that particular Briar Patch of Self-Pity. Granted, about 5 minutes before I started writing this post, I was more than ready to spend the rest of 2008 in the psychic fetal position, with a promise to unfurl myself on January 1st, 2009.
But something just came over me. Maybe it was the second scotch and soda. Or maybe I'm just tired of focusing on what I don't have. Maybe it's time to be grateful for what I do have. At the top of that list is a lot of free time to think about something other than how much stuff I still have to do before Christmas Day.
All I have to do is show up on time for dinner at the home I've been invited to. How great is that??
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