Merry Merry, Why Your Bugging?
Krimbo, Xmas, Chrissy – for this Jew, a confusing time of year. I respond awkwardly when people wish me a Merry Christmas, and saying it, well, I might after a shot of bourbon. I feel like an outsider. To be fair, I feel like an outsider among Jews too.
But I do understand the Spirit of the Season. It starts for me with imported tangerines in wooden boxes. Mulled wine is another tradition. On New Year’s Eve, I insist on poached shrimp, and vine leaves stuffed with rice. But it’s not food or drink that is my greatest holiday joy.
Hands down, it’s the arrival of my Brummie friend Kim Trusty, the surest and best sign that I am about to have some good time off. She shows up unannounced for great effect, then hangs for the week before returning to her home across the pond.
We act like she lives here and it’s just another Kim and Mika Sunday: brunch, movie, Soundscapes, dinner at my house, dancing. We talk like it was just last week. But it isn’t, and she never stays. I walk her to a streetcar, then cry my way home. Merry Christmas, Kicks. We’re having brioche with foie gras for brunch.