An African Thanksgiving, Part II

For weeks now, I've been telling myself that I wasn't going to do it. I mean, sure, it was kinda fun last year - as a novelty - but is it really worth the trouble?

Apparently, yes.

I can't even blame the M-I-L really. Sure, it was she who said "Oh, come on, Robyn, it's only as much trouble as you make it," which, to a more sensitive person, might have seemed like an accusation that every time I host an event I make it into a big fricking deal. Hmmm. But no, me being the calm, cool, and confident girl that I am, I didn't take it that way. No, I took her comments as a very thoughtful observation that it's an American holiday and it's in my patriotic nature to celebrate, so I might as well do so in a way that doesn't stress me out and yet allows me to enjoy the traditions I'm used to.

So that's what I decided to do.

And despite the fact that I still have the same number of bowls and chopping knives as I did last year (um, that being one), I think I managed to prepare a pretty impressive (and yet stress free) feast for eight. Yes, eight. Me, my beloved, his mum and dad, the brother and sister-in-law and their two adorable brats. I cooked a turkey, spinach and artichoke casserole, roasted butternut squash, seven-layer salad, and a pecan pie. And the M-I-L provided roasted potatoes. And never let it be said that I don't appreciate the M-I-L, because her roasted potatoes are a-may-zing. Seriously, it was good stuff.

And once again, I made the whole fam go around the table and announce what they were most thankful for. And we only broke into tears once. Or twice. I can't be sure...the wine might've had something to do with it.

I have to say, I think we Americans are onto something. Thanksgiving is by far the Best Holiday Ever. Think about it...yummy food without the pressure of presents... a chance to remember all that we're thankful for and to enjoy it with friends and family...what could be better than that?

So once more, here I am, across the many miles, attempting to express my thanks to all of you for your ongoing love, support, and friendship. Thank you. I am truly blessed.

Oh, and I should probably mention that tomorrow I'm off to the bush. The real bush. Yes, apparently, just as I'm about to leave this fine country, I've been invited to join the ranks of real South Africans. Because tomorrow I leave for the real bush. As in, not a five star luxury resort in the middle of the jungle type thing. As in, no electricity, no fences. As in here-are-your-malaria-tablets-but-if-you-
get-eaten-by-mosquitoes-that's-the-least-of-your-worries type bush. Yes, it's all very exciting...and here I go.

But I'll be back sometime next week.
Hopefully.

Cool Aunt Robyn

Okay, so they don't exactly call me that. But check out the letter below (you can click on it to make it bigger), and obviously, I am Cool Aunt Robyn (except for the whole abandoning-my-niece-on-the-day-
before-her-tenth-birthday thing...Ouch).

The weekend was a blast…High School Musical 3, the Wild Waters water park, School of Rock and Space Camp on DVD, American Idol on XBox, brownies, pizza…yep, Roger and I are a pretty cool uncle and aunt, if I do say so myself. But we don’t do it to be cool. We do it because we love these kids more than words can express. (Who am I kidding? We also do it because HSM and water parks and XBox and brownies are some of our favorite things too!)

For me, leaving Connor and Dale (and their parents) will without a doubt be the hardest part about leaving South Africa. But I am comforted by the fact that Roger and I have formed lasting bonds with these incredible kids, and they know that they are always, always welcome in our home, no matter where that home is. I’m already envisioning them as teenagers, coming to spend the summer with us, ready to see as much of America as we can show them. I look forward to that day and I pray that they will feel as comfortable with us then as they do now. Because I don’t want to lose the closeness, the comfort with each other that we currently share. I don’t want to become the far-off aunt or simply, the American relative.

But I don’t want to be the distant South African aunt to my niece and nephews in America either…especially not to the upcoming Chicago arrival. No, as much as it breaks my heart to leave Connor and Dale, I know that it’s time to go home...

But that doesn’t make saying goodbye any easier.

The Fate of the Blog

So, I started to put my blog on the list of things I will miss about living in South Africa, but then I decided against it, because I haven’t quite decided if the end of my time in Africa will be the end of the blog. I mean, obviously, the blog can no longer be about my “Adventures in Africa,” but then, the blog hasn’t always been about Africa anyway. Couldn’t it just as easily be Adventures in Atlanta? Probably…

But then I consider what that would mean, and I’m not so sure. The blog serves as a kind of journal for me, and at times, I reveal way too much information in this very public space. And that’s fine as long as I’m writing from the opposite side of the planet. While I’m 10,000 miles away, I can post about my insecurities and issues without having to worry about a colleague mentioning it to me the next day at work, or worse, running into an old boyfriend and having him bring it up in our local Kroger. Do you know what I’m saying? It would just be…weird. So, then I think, well, I’ll keep writing, but perhaps I need to filter my thoughts and censor my subjects a bit more. But then I wonder if the blog will still be worth reading if I’m coloring everything rosy. I don’t know.

And if my personal life is off limits, will I have anything remotely interesting to say once I’m back in the good ole US of A? While I don’t really think living in Africa has made me all that interesting, it’s kind of made me seem interesting…at times anyway (Maybe? Go with me here). I mean, I could always count on a post about crime in Joburg or South African politics or photos from a trip to the bush if I was drawing a blank for subject matter. But what happens when I’m living in normal every day America again? What’s my hook? My theme?

I have several friends who blog, but most of them have babies. Babies are a good solid topic for a blog. They’re cute. They do funny things. People like to see photos and video clips. Now obviously, I don’t have a baby. But maybe I could borrow a baby and start a fake mommy blog. (What do you think D? A baby blog for Borisa???)

I don’t know. Logic tells me to stop blogging, but I think I kind of need it. Is that pathetic? Sure, at times it’s a pain in the ass and I don’t really feel like writing anything, but I continue to do it because – well, I guess I take pride in it. Of course, it’s a source of embarrassment too – kind of in the same way that you want people to come and see your play even when you’re cast in the role of a fat old lady. Sure, you look ridiculous, but you’re still kinda proud and want people to watch.

And as long as I’m using the theatre metaphor, I think for me, writing the blog is a bit like community theatre must be for someone who once-upon-a-time had dreams of being a movie star. Does that make any sense? I don’t mean to say that I’m giving up on the idea of publishing a novel, but after a year of trying to research agents and publishers, I’m a bit more realistic about the likelihood of it actually happening. That being said, I’m not sure I have to publish a novel to fulfill my dreams of being a writer. As long as I have a handful of people who want to read my random stories in the form of this blog…well, that might be more than enough for me.

So I guess you can tell which way I’m leaning…but I’m not ready to make the commitment just yet. I mean, once I have a real job again (please God, let me get a real job again!) and resume my former life, will I actually have time to sit around and pontificate in the blogosphere?

I guess we’ll both have to wait and see…

Still Lucky

Okay, so I know I said I was lucky. And I am.

And I know after last week, I should be feeling inspired and hopeful and basking in the we-are-the-world glow. And I am.

Seriously, I am.

But that’s all Big Picture stuff. The small picture has me feeling stressed and irritable and…dare I admit it? Downright bitchy.

It’s true. Even nice girls like me can be a bit, well...less than nice. Just ask my so-damn-patient-he-deserves-a-medal husband.

Let me preface this by saying that I adore my husband. Seriously, 99.9% of the time I feel like I’ve won the lottery because I’m married to this amazingly funny, sweet, and insightful man. It’s a bit disgusting actually. It’s just that lately…

Well, it’s not that Roger has done anything wrong, per se, but the overall tension surrounding our situation is causing a bit of...well, tension. Here we are, living in this foreign country, and all my fears about the currency not being stable and the job being too-good-to-be-true have suddenly become a reality. Now, honestly, despite the miserable exchange rate and the job and even the crazy in-laws…I certainly don’t regret coming here. I’m all about experiences, and this has definitely been one for the record books. Well, my record book anyway. I look back at all my blog entries and see that I’ve managed to compose a rather lengthy story about this time we’ve spent in Africa…and I’m pretty damn proud of that.

So where was I? Oh yes, the tension. While I don’t regret moving here, I'm definitely a bit stressed about moving back. Looking for a job is tough in the best of times, and let’s face it – these are not the best of times. I'm aware that spending endless hours on monster.com and working on the twenty-seventh draft of my cover letter doesn't exactly make me the most pleasant person to be around. And I know that my stress affects my mood and my mood affects my husband, but what can I do? I can’t help it!

But I have to… help it, that is.

Because my husband is amazing. And he doesn’t deserve to get the brunt of my angst. Now fortunately, being the saint that he is, he’s somehow capable of pointing out my shortcomings in this regard without sending me into a tirade. Miracle, I know. In fact, just last week I was snapping at him (probably about something extremely offensive, like him forgetting to put the clothes in the drier, again), and Roger interrupts me in a stern yet gentle tone:

“Robyn, you can’t do this,” he says so calmly that I kinda want to punch him in the nose. “You know how people are always saying that marriage is hard? And you know how you and I are always laughing at them and saying they're crazy? Well, this is what they are talking about...THIS is the hard part! And we have to continue to be nice to each other…even when it’s hard. Especially when it’s hard.”

Um - gulp - okay.

The urge to punch him in the nose vanishes, and I suddenly want to curl up in his comforting arms. Because he’s right. He’s SO right. It doesn’t happen often, but he is completely, one hundred percent right.

Roger and I haven’t really been tested in our eight year relationship - and I’m not saying this is a huge test - but it’s the roughest waters we’ve seen so far. And while at times it might be tempting to jump overboard, I am clinging to the rock solid ship that is my husband. Because we're in this together. He knows me and loves me and would do anything to make me happy. And I’d do the same for him. So we will forge ahead in these rough waters. We will find a way to say goodbye to our family here in South Africa. We will start the process of moving our lives (and our Moose) back to America. We will begin the search for jobs and apartments and cars back home. And it will be okay. Because we have each other. And because of that, we are truly lucky. I’d say we're blessed, but I’ve always felt those words somehow imply that we've earned it or that we deserve it, and I can assure you – we don’t.
We’re just lucky.

An ongoing list...

What I Will Miss about Life in South Africa

1. Thunderstorms. I haven’t even attempted to describe the storms here, because no words could do them justice. Dramatic. Menacing. Awe-inspiring. And just to heighten the whole experience, we go all winter without a single storm, and then suddenly, one early October evening, the sky explodes. Truly Awesome.

2. Nandos. One extra-hot chicken wrap with peri-peri chips and a Coke Light. My mouth will still be on fire long after we've left the country.

3. That Darn Cat. I admit it, Tigerlilly has grown on me. I'm still not a cat person - and her paw-prints on my table continue to drive me nuts - but I will miss her sweet face and the way she flirts with Moose and how good she makes me feel when she chooses to come hang out with Roger and me over the M-I-L (thus allowing me some vindication for the fact that my dog still chooses the M-I-L every damn time). Yes, I will miss that cat.

4. Biltong. My favorite South African snack…like beef jerky but way better.

5. Cheap movies. 16 Rand for a movie ticket. At the current exchange rate, that’s $1. 57. I know! Shelling out ten bucks (or is it eleven now?) at Atlantic Station will be truly painful (but having access to real popcorn will make it so worth it!).

6. Time. As you know, my job here has allowed me a flexibility that I certainly won’t have upon my return (assuming I find a job upon my return). It’s been both a blessing and a curse. Too much time to think (um, obsess) has never been particularly good for my mental state, but having time to relax…well, that’s something I got used to pretty quickly. Spending an entire Saturday reading a good book. Lounging by the pool. Wasting time watching TV or trolling the blogosphere. Going to the gym midday. It’s been nice to simply have Time.

7. Sheila. I will certainly have a rude awakening when I move back to the States and am forced to rekindle my relationship with the iron and the toilet-brush, because for the past year and a half, those less-than-pleasant chores have been carried out by Sheila. She is a saint who has made me feel like a true lady of luxury.

8. Being the American. I'm sure this one will also make the list of things I won’t miss about living here, but what can I say? At times I really like being the foreigner. Other times I hate it. But I know once I’m back in the US, I will miss the brief period of my life when I was considered exotic and mysterious because I came from a far and distant land…okay, so I seriously doubt anyone has ever thought of me as exotic or mysterious, but in my memory, they did.

9. Girls lunches. While I had some initial complaints about my lack of girlfriends in South Africa, my sister-in-law was quick to welcome me into her fabulous circle of women. Every few months, nine or ten of us get together for an all day ‘lunch’ involving copious amounts of champagne and an embarrassing playlist alternating between Neil Diamond and Abba.

10. The Jolly Roger. Yes, our local pub is named the Jolly Roger. And if that’s not reason enough to love it, it also has the Best Pizza Ever. I always order the Picasso which comes with bacon, avocado, banana, and mushrooms. I usually ask them to add pineapple too. So yummy.

11. Running. Yes, I’m sure I’ll continue running when I’m back in the States, but it won’t be the same. I probably won’t have the time to spend six or seven hours a week pounding the pavement and I definitely won’t have the gorgeous setting of the Joburg Botanical Gardens or Zoo Lake. I will definitely miss the sights and sounds of running around my little corner of Joburg.

12. The African Sky. This picture says it all.


13. Our cottage. Yes, the location isn’t ideal (right in the in-laws' back yard), but the cottage itself is cute and comfy and has been just right for Roger and me.











14. Woolworths. I can’t believe I’m saying this, because I've spent nineteen months pining for my Edgewood Kroger, but I will actually miss my grocery store here in South Africa. Woolworths is a chain grocery/department store – kinda like Target, but on a much smaller scale (and not nearly as cool). Still, with its genetically engineered produce that never-ever goes bad and the yummy Woolworths brand vanilla yogurt and their pre-made soups and sushi and sandwiches...I've come to love my neighborhood Woolworths. I will even miss how everyone calls it “Woolies” though the word always felt silly on my tongue.

15. My South African family. Gary and Laurel, Connor and Dale, even Bryan and the M-I-L. Living here, I've come to know their quirks and passions and strengths and weaknesses, and it's made me love them on a whole new level. They’ve become a part of our every day lives and there's a not-so-small part of my heart that is already beginning to ache just thinking about saying goodbye...so I won't think about that now. I'll end my list here - for the moment.
I'm sure I'll have more to add as the weeks go on...

I don't know.

As I'm posting this, the polls haven't even opened in America yet.
But they will soon.

I don't know who will win. Based on early polling, I can guess, but I don't know. There is a lot I don't know about this election. In fact, I don't even know if the man I voted for is the best choice. I think so. I hope so. But I'd be lying if I said that the barrage of emails and articles calling him a thief and a liar and a socialist haven't caused me to second-guess my once blind faith. Not enough to make me want to change my vote (I mailed in my absentee ballot over a month ago), but enough to make me say "I don't know."

I value those three words. And I say them a lot - especially when it comes to politics. Now, to say "I don't know" doesn't mean I'm undecided, it just means I'm open to the possibility that the other side has some valid points. It means I'm not 100% certain. It means that I won't discount the opinions and beliefs of people I respect simply because they vote one way in this election and I vote another.

This time last year, I made a commitment to figure out what I think politically. I'd never voted before, and I was ashamed of that fact. So I did a lot of reading - much of it on the web and written by those "liberal media elites," but much of it from my in-box and written by whoever the opposite of those "liberal media elites" are. I've only scratched the surface, I know that, but I think I've managed to learn a lot about American politics in the last year. At the very least, I've discovered the main differences between the ideologies of Republicans and Democrats, and based on my personal ideology, I think I've figured out which team suits me best...

Now, even having made that decision, I continue to question my beliefs. I consider myself well-educated and relatively well-informed, but there is still just so much that I don't know...I'm not sure I'll ever feel 100% confident that I've made the right choice. That being said, I'm constantly amazed at how many people can be so very certain about their political beliefs. They have no doubts. They just know that they are right. (And when I say "right" I don't necessarily mean "Right." I think both parties are equally full of self-righteous know-it-alls who condescend to anyone with an opposing opinion).

I'm slightly envious of those people who "know" they are right, but I'm suspicious of them too. Because complicated issues are never that simple. There are always grey areas. We can't know everything, and we can't always be right. That's something I do know. In fact, the first politician to come out and really admit he doesn't know something...well, that's the one who has my vote. Oh wait, didn't McCain admit he didn't know much about the economy? And didn't the Obama people hold it over his head for the entire campaign? Hmmm...maybe the phrase "I don't know" isn't so good coming from a politician. I guess it's okay for me not to know, but I suppose I expect the next president to know. Am I one big contradiction or what?

Well, there goes my promise not to talk politics, but to not talk about it - today at least - well it would be like ignoring the elephant in the living room. Or the donkey.

Happy Voting!

Lucky

It’s the end of the world as we know it.

Well, that’s what it feels like anyway. It’s easy to get caught up in all the gloom and doom. There’s simply no escaping the barrage of negative information about the war, the economy, the next American president (whoever that may be). I feel hopeless. Stressed. Depressed. I pine for the days when I was mildly medicated. I start to think it’s time to call my favorite child psychiatrist and request a new prescription…

But then I take a step back. I see the man I wake up with every morning and I can’t help but smile. Then I look around me at the people here in South Africa who I’ve come to know and love over the past nineteen months. I open my inbox and feel the love from friends and family around the globe. I take notice of the roof over my head, the food in my fridge, the cash in my wallet. True, there’s a little less cash than there used to be, and I’m more aware of the cost of those groceries in my fridge…but for the moment, I’m okay.

In fact, I’m more than okay. I’m lucky. To quote the lyrics of this cheesy pop song you’re hearing:
(Yes, thanks to Erin's blog, I've finally figured out how to add music!)

Lucky I’m in love with my best friend.
Lucky to have been where I have been.
Lucky to be coming home again.

Oh, didn’t I mention that?

It's true; we’re coming home. For good. When Roger and I come home for Christmas, we’re coming home to stay. (The photo below was Roger’s idea for a “going home” photo to contrast the “going to Africa” photo at the top of my blog. He’s such a dork…but of course, I went along with it so what does that say about me?)
Obviously, I’m thrilled to be moving back. But I’m scared too. And stressed. And maybe even a little bit sad.

I’m happy to be coming home - I am - but I’m terrified that I won’t be able to find a job in this miserable economy. I’m nervous about finding a place to live, about buying a new car. I’m frustrated that the South African currency is tanking at the exact moment I need to exchange it for dollars. And then of course, I’m also feeling sad and slightly guilty about the loved ones we're leaving behind…

I know; I’m like that character on TV who you kinda hate but can’t stop watching. I spend months pining to go home, and now that I’m getting what I want, I’m acting like it’s the end of the world. You want to smack me. And that’s okay, because I want to smack me too. That’s why I’m confessing.

I realize that I’m focusing on all the wrong things. The fact is, in seven weeks, Roger and I will be home again. Ready to start yet another adventure together. And if I’ve learned anything in the eight years I’ve known Roger, it’s that as long as we’re together, we’re gonna be okay. In fact, we’re more than okay.

We’re lucky.