Worry, a menu and crazy adventures

Everything changes. It's been a busy month, organizing payment of a security deposit on an apartment, getting my plane tickets, stating that I'm not a terrorist/drug baron/prostitute on a million visa application forms, determining my blood type (it's ORh+, folks), ordering a new power supply for my defunct flatbed scanner, trying to get my mother to come to grips with email as a viable form of communication (VoIP is pretty much a pipe dream at this stage), sucking at bowling, resigning at work, closing bank accounts, having copies of my thesis professionally bound (yes, it finally is truly over), worrying over what will become of my precious orchids, hoping that the new Recoil album will arrive in my mailbox in time to still listen to it before I leave, clearing out loads of old receipts/undergrad notes/bank statements, taking photographs of my hometown to potentially use in presentations, finishing up some labwork for my professor ...and planning a party.

I am not about to do full-on finger food for forty hungry people (don'tcha just love alliteration?) and so the ready-made everything aisle in Woolworths will be my salvation again. Do not despair though, as store-bought stuff is just ancillary and I have several culinary surprises up my sleeve. Like the chilli-spiced olives with slices of lime and fresh rosemary from the garden which I canned yesterday; or the feta cheese and sun-dried tomatoes I marinated in extra virgin olive oil laced with cracked black pepper and coriander seeds this morning. I'm planning a fusion food menu of sorts: bruschetta topped with grilled peppers, chicken satay skewers with spicy peanut sauce, cherry tomatoes topped with fresh pesto, stuffed chillies, meatballs according to the secret family recipe, spring rolls, tuna fritters with lemon mayonnaise, nachos with Mexican layered dip, delightful little rolled things, exquisite little goodies on sticks, aromatic dips, pungent spices. It's not meze, not tapas, not boerekos, not dim sum, perhaps not even proper fusion cooking, but I don't care as long as it's delicious. If the guests end up forgetting all about me when I'm gone, at least they won't forget the food.

This will be the first time that all the different people that I've met over the years will be together in the same space. My lab friends will meet my friends from the bookshop for the first time. Should I be worried? I have always had this irrational fear that they might actually get along better without me and then go off on crazy adventures without me. Irrational, see? Because I know full well that each set of friends goes off on crazy adventures without me all the time, anyway. Usually along the lines of them going: "Hey, Leon, why don't you come with us? We're going to hike the Fish River Canyon this weekend, then take in a concert by some band you've never heard of and probably wouldn't like. It'll be great!" My response: "Erm, well... I have this thesis-thing and need to fill my shifts at work this weekend..." Why should it matter if they get on well without me? Why should it matter if they go off on crazy adventures without me? Why? Because I want them to be miserable without me, that's why. Now I'm going off on my own crazy adventure, alone, and it's too late, much too late. At least we won't forget the food...