My Life as an African Gypsy

As much as I love my two foot Christmas tree, and I do love it, it is not quite enough to bring the warm fuzzies I am used to during this time of year.

I have played much Christmas music around here, drank solely out of my red Starbucks cups, put on my red and green outfits, painted my toes red, gone to some parties, sang carols, watched 'Elf'...

Sigh.

It is just the whole waking up to 95 degree heat just kills it. Ya know?

In our apartment the sun comes up and straight into the living room, which means the minute I walk out of my room, I am hot. And grumpy.

I worked out this morning to a cardio video, and afterward I could not cool down for the life of me. I ended up taking a cool shower, but still came out with a face looking like a tomato.

Then this afternoon I was out on our balcony folding clothes (because we line dry everything, which is a story for another blog) and I thought I was going die. It was so very very hot.

Okay, okay, I am exaggerating a bit there. I wasn't going to die, but sweat was dripping from bizarre places. Only in Africa have I learned the feeling of sweat coming out the pores on my calves. Not nice.

To top things off, in all of our attempts at making Christmas like home, we missionaries bake for all the parties. The problem with this is that it means we have to turn the oven on, and that makes it even hotter.

I won't give up though.

This is my Christmas, and my first in Africa. We will have to learn to make new traditions, and somehow incorporate the things we deem most important from home... even if it means being a little extra hot.