It's that time of year

As always, February in the log house on the windy hill brings the annual Jamaican Party. In the past thirteen years, the core of the party was the authentic Jamaican food Ell would create over almost a week of preparation. Without her here I knew I wouldn't be able to pull off the same amazing creations she did. In addition to that, I wrestled with the fact that having the party that had always been our gift to our friends might insinuate some kind of, "taking sides" which I didn't want to happen. But at the advice of a friend who encouraged me that having the party would allow people the opportunity to support, "me" and wouldn't do any harm to relationships they might have with Ell, I decided to go forward with the party. In addition, he suggested that support could easily be in the form of food. And so I sent out invitations and a menu and a bunch of people signed up for food they would make. Sure, it won't be the same party, but it will still be fun. And I'm really excited to see what others making the food will add to the fun.

One tradition that remains in place is that the Red Stripe will be flowing with immensity. Today I picked up the special-ordered car load of beer and adding to it the additional bottles of alcohol that had dwindled in the alcohol cabinet. Ahhhhh, I do love this time of year when little squat bottles of beer make the heart happy.

If you didn't get an invite, I either didn't have your address or didn't think you'd come. You decide which one is you, and then get dressed up in your best Jamaican clothes and be at my house Saturday night.