In a lot of ways, I’m just not cut out for this.
Nonetheless, I’m glad I’m here. Hard to explain.
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Our Day
On Wednesday last week, the morning was already well underway and I hadn’t seen Esther yet. Sometimes she sleeps at her husband’s family house, sometimes she sleeps here. She might sleep at her mother’s house sometimes, too…I’m not sure. It’s part of the extended family system here.
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It Was Beauty Killed the Beast
I’m surprised when I find writers who can describe a particular point in their lives: the point at which they shut something down inside themselves. It sounds like something that would happen unconsciously, but what is interesting is that so many really do seem to be conscious of it.
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Big Wheel Keeps on Turning
It’s been really good to have Stephen’s family back in the neighborhood. Their dogs are happy, their kids are happy, and even though I haven’t seen much of Stephen as he’s busy catching up on things, I’m happy just to have things back to normal. It’s a little funny how quickly I’ve gotten use to there being a “normal” to get back to here. Of course, it also helps to have someone nearby who speaks English well.
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When Pan Met Quan-yin
She left the dragon lazing in the water in near Elephant Rock; sated on seals and pelicans, he would stay mostly submerged and wouldn’t make any trouble. As long as those bird watchers didn’t come poking around like last time. But no one ever believed what they claimed to see anyway.
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Jubilees and Other Oddities
Monday was exceedingly weird. (And this is an exceedingly scattered post; sometimes I feel like I need to just get stuff posted when I can, because the next thing will be coming down the pike at any moment.)
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Critters, Books, and Breaking Through
I’m just back from an in-service training about beekeeping. It was interesting; hives can be made out of all sorts of materials. I want to try a clay pot hive, because clay pots are much cheaper than lumber here, especially when you consider transport costs. Matthew, my supervisor, thinks that kids will more easily disturb a clay pot hive, breaking the pots to get to the honey inside.
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Four of Swords
Green-eyed Grrrl
I shouldn’t be surprised. It seems predictable in so many ways. But I really wanted to believe that I was above it, or over it, or beyond it.
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Things Fall Apart
I often recall the three-word title of Chinua Achebe’s novel set on the banks of the Niger river. It is the core truth of life in West Africa.
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