Pixie in Paradise

You can’t see things differently unless you’ve done things differently. Some people can see potential, what could be, because they have the imagination and vision. Others need to experience the difference first, to understand the possibilities are out there. Here’s a completely irrelevant example but still, it’s spot on. My best friend is the top realtor in the state where we met in high school, 30 years ago. Mandy not only has a head for the business aspects of selling real estate but also two decades of experience showing and evaluating homes, She can see the potential of what a house can look like with new paint, tile, moving or removing a wall, or adding landscaping. I’ve bought homes and if they weren’t near move-in ready I would loudly express my inability to wrap my head around how I was supposed to spend any amount of time in said structure. Truthfully, I just have tastes way more expensive than I should. I’m on a rented campsite type budget but asking for that price on a condo that’s Central Park-adjacent in New York City – so to speak.

Her approach to real estate and its potential is how I’ve wanted and have tried to embrace holidays for years. For 15 years I was working in healthcare. We all took turns working holidays, so the magic of these dates had already lost some sheen for me because it was just any old work day. We would celebrate with each other, trying to eat or find a little merriment (also known as a frickin’ break), before the next medical emergency would arise. Bouncing into corporate America actually forced me to celebrate all Western culture holidays with friends and family because I was no longer working on them. That is the biggest perk of a corporate job, weekends and holidays are off. Well, the paid time off and benefits package isn’t bad either.

But again, with those holiday celebrations brings a bit of unease and anxiety with them. I mean, doesn’t it for everyone? Nobody has a perfect family and social settings of any kind can get out of control. You can’t tell me the rest of you enjoy repeating stories and the answers to questions you’ve already addressed in another room of the house, or at a previous function. Am I the only one? If so, paint me green and call me Grinch, so I can go put antlers on the cat. 

This Christmas will truly be one of those unique, outside of the box experiences I’ve dreamed about. I’m in Costa Rica after all, on the beach. It’s between 75 and 88 degrees Fahrenheit (F) all of the time and I’ve been living in climates with 85% humidity and temps between 75F and 105F for the better part of the last half of this year. I don’t want to build a snowman, I don’t want eggnog and so on and so on. I will, however, still watch The Holiday and National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation on my laptop. That’s just tradition.

I’m excited about this coming Monday for Costa Rican Christmas by the beach. I assume Mo the cat will be present for as many courses as he can sink his teeth into. He has turned out to be an absolutely greedy child but with that face and obscenely adorable feline body, I am determined to spoil the shit out of him. I leave in seven days and have six full ones to absolutely ruin him for the next guests. 

In addition to Mo at my dinner table, new friend Christine will join us. She is also staying in a little casita at the beautiful private resort Mo and I reside at. We met a few days ago and are on similar paths through life but have very different backgrounds. We’ve decided to use our nationalities as the theme for our Christmas meal together. She is Italian and I am somewhere between 25-50% Lebanese, so we are having an Italian/Lebanese Christmas meal. Be honest: does anything sound more delicious?! We are each heading into town to hit up the grocery store for our respective necessary ingredients. If we can’t find the authentic item, we switch up the menu. I will have to come back and share how we made out!

There is one Christmas tradition I’ve been thinking a lot about lately and I think part of it is because I’m writing and reading so much these last six months. I never did – and still don’t – want many presents for special occasions, if any. I have everything I need and I’m picky. I find joy in very particular items, the rest I don’t even want to keep. When I was a kid, two of the gifts I’d receive for Christmas that I never understood and could take or leave, were the nuts and an orange that my mom stuck into the toe of our Christmas stockings. I didn’t get it. Most of the time I was too lazy to crack the nuts open, or not even strong enough. My dad was the nutcracker. And even though we didn’t have a lot of money, my mom always made sure we were eating healthy meals, including fresh vegetables and fruits, like oranges. So the orange wasn’t a novelty, it just took up space in my red sock. But, when I researched if this sweet woman was stuffing weird stuff in those stockings because she was crazy or if it was an actual “thing,” sure enough, it is a bonafide tradition in several different cultures. Way before my time, an orange in a Christmas stocking was a symbol of generosity and abundance. Nuts were a way to nourish people and apparently brought joy to the children – according to the internet. According to me, they weren’t my favorite, as I’ve explained.

Of all the presents and nuts and balls stuffed into the stocking, my favorite gifts were the books my mom wrapped and placed on top of the orange. I was a book fanatic as a child and logged thousands of hours reading. This was before the stressors of adulthood grabbed me, well, by the “oranges.” You get it. I think she asked my brother and I what our favorite authors were or what books we didn’t have and would like, so that those presents would be a grand slam, something we really wanted. At least for me, they always were, and I really love her for the attention that was given to these little details. This year, as Mo and Christine and I sit down to dinner, and hopefully a shit ton of wine – I’m feeling festive and thirsty – there will be no nuts. And there will be no oranges. Unless there’s sangria with orange slices…hmmm…where’s that grocery list?