Next Christmas.. Malawi, Mozambique. Madagascar? (Maybe a little ambitious)..
This winter
(or spring for youse guys in the northern hemisphere) … South Africa?
Love you,
Namibia. However, I
think I’m going to abandon you for a bit this year.
It’s not
you. But, it’s
not me either.
Inventory of
the irretrievable:
1 pair of
sunglasses, crushed by trailer of goats
1 (other) pair
of sunglasses, discarded by accident
1
b-e-a-utiful pocket knife, lost to African finders keepers
1 ruined
tank, stained by cheap mini-dress in wash (no real regrets there, I love my new
inappropriate dress)
And… Some other
things too depressing to deliberate on..
New Year’s
resolutions:
None.
Wait.
Stop
procrastinating?
I think I’ve
recycled that one a few times now. I’ll get
around to it eventually.
Current
jealousies:
Chicago is
-40°F
Col. City is
enduring a snowpocalypse.
(A moniker stolen
from the Chi-town blizzard. We had thunder snow, you fools.)
I miss snow.
And roast beef sandwiches (the ultimate
comfort food)...
My current
horoscope:
I'm guessing
that in a metaphorical sense, you've been swallowed by a whale. Now you're
biding your time in the beast's belly. Here's my prediction: You will be like
the Biblical Jonah, who underwent a more literal version of your experience.
The whale eventually expelled him, allowing him to return to his life safe and
sound -- and your story will have the same outcome. What should you do in the
meantime? Here's the advice that Dan Albergotti gives in his poem "Things
to Do in the Belly of the Whale." "Count the ribs," he says.
"Look up for blue sky through the spout. Make small fires with the broken
hulls of fishing boats. Practice smoke signals. Call old friends. Organize your
calendar. Dream of the beach. Review each of your life's ten million choices.
Find the evidence of those before you. Listen for the sound of your heart. Be
thankful that you are here, swallowed with all hope, where you can rest and
wait."
On deck:
Schools open
in seven days.
Am not at
all prepared.
Going to
attempt to break in tomorrow and start setting up shop.
Hopefully
someone in the village is in possession of the keys.
I’m not a particularly
skilled cat burglar.