eighteen

I'll miss being part of such an international community. It's so enriching and eye-opening and mind broadening. And there are so many neat people out there.

I won't miss sticking out. Because besides the ex-pat community, this country is largely homogenous. Everyone has very similar features, and being pale skinned, blond haired and blue eyed definitely marks me as being an outsider. I draw lots of unwanted attention, both positive and negative. I will definitely like blending in again.

countdown

Well, we're officially counting down the days until we leave, since it's now December. Nineteen days and counting.

I'm going to keep posts these days short and sweet. Mainly because I'm feeling stressed about everything else. So here's the drill: for the next 19 days, one thing I'll miss and one thing I won't miss. Here goes:

I'll miss riding behind Mr. on the motorbike. It's really free and fun to ride in the open air like that. Sure, we could get a motorcycle some day, but it's scary for two reasons: 1) you drive a LOT faster on good paved roads, and 2) people aren't as used to watching for motorcycles in the US as they are here. Motorbikes make up such a large part of the transportation system here; they still rule the road, in some ways.

I will not miss the traffic. Even though I don't drive, I see it stress Mr. out on a regular basis. The rules of the road are so different here. It all looks like chaos, but there are actually predictable patterns once you get used to it. But it is not like the orderly driving in the US. The rules here are more like suggestions. Also, I will not miss helmet head or struggling to hold onto and balance everything when we have lots of things to transport. Then a motorbike is not so handy.

understanding

I have been inspired by a saying I heard maybe six months ago, which goes, "You have the opportunity to influence others through a life lived differently."

It comforted me and confirmed to me the steps we have been taking toward this sabbatical year. It is a very different decision; one which confuses some people. Threatens others. We are communicating a whole different set of values than those that govern most people's decisions. We are breaking norms—both of the secular world and the ministry world.

But I really want people to look at our choices and wonder and re-evaluate and consider a different life than the one they are living. The thought kind of excites me.

So last night we were explaining our choice to someone who has known us for a long time, but not deeply. He was curious and considering some sort of change himself.

I was trying to express that this coming year was all about putting ourselves in a place to hear from God. To seek Him. To learn as much as we could from Him. And the guy's response was, basically, "I think you want to do that to make up for how unprepared you were for this ministry, so you can do better next time."

Well, not only had we stated clearly that we were not sure full-time ministry was in our future, we were also trying to emphasize that it was all about pursuing God. And, his words were a little insulting.

I was a bit put off and mentally checked out of the conversation. I leaned back in the chair and let Mr. do most of the talking. After a while the other guy noticed my silence and remarked that I seemed rather tired.

OK. I'll take that. Besides being a bit ticked off, I was honestly weary. It had been a long day.

Back home as I was climbing into bed I replayed the conversation in my mind, wondering how it could have been so misinterpreted. And as I slipped under the sheet I kind of heard God whisper, "You wanted to live differently. That means you will be misunderstood. Expect it. Get used to it."

Yeah, OK. I guess not everyone will get it. I'm going to somehow have to accept that fact.

cat

Well, Mr. made a toy for the cat. She loves it. Unfortunately it requires human participation. She sits by it and stares us down until one or the other of us picks it up and dangles it for her to chase.

Our feather duster fell apart. Cleverly, Mr. took the wooden handle, tied some left-over Christmas ribbon to it (yes, from last Christmas), and then stapled a few feathers to the ends of each ribbon. She could care less about most of it, but is fixated on the feathers. Something about that hunting instinct draws her right to those bird-like things.

We took her to the vet a few days ago and put her in her new carrier to get her there. Before that day she had been mildly curious about the carrier, casually in and out of it from time to time. Unfortunately, the visit to the vet was a bit traumatic. Now she wants nothing to do with the carrier. Tactical error.

So tonight I took her favorite thing and combined it with her least favorite thing. I drug the ribbons with the feathers in through one end of the carrier, then out the other. She was sorely tempted and stared at it a long time. After a little more coaxing, she went half-way into the carrier to pounce on the feathers, but then backed right out again. Well, it's a start.

No question that the airplane ride is going to confirm her hatred of the carrier, but we have to trick her into liking it before that.

Trying not to worry traveling half-way around the world with her. Way too much other stuff to get done before we cross that bridge.

erratic

So, last night the electricity went a bit crazy. We had dips in power, so that the light bulbs went very dim and the fans hardly spun. Then we would have huge surges, the lights gleaming too brightly and the fans whirling faster than they were meant to.

It lasted all night and part of the morning. I don't know what caused it, but it shorted out one of our surge protectors. But, that's why we have them, I guess. It kept the TV and fridge from blowing up—which is a good thing.

In a way, my emotions have been mirroring our electricity recently. Especially in regard to this move. I have times of excitement and optimism, followed by rather sad times. Up and down, cheery and gloomy. There are so many good things to look forward to. Also so many good things to leave behind.

Bah. The bittersweet nature of life and change and learning and leaving.

On a fun note, I bought a winter coat today. You will not understand the significance of this achievement until you know that 1)  I haven't had a new winter coat since before I was married and 2) The weather today was in the high 80's, the temps in the market were over 90, but I tried the coat on anyway, to make sure everything felt right. The only thing that didn't feel right was having a heavy winter coat on in those oven-like conditions.

Mr. and I also had a good laugh during coat-buying (he got one too) because we were very clumsy zipping them up. I never realized zipping up bulky winter coats was a skill one could lose. But there's no denying that we were both quite awkward about it.

And then there were the two good-bye meals we had today. Oh, not that we won't see those people again before we go, but it was the "let's have some quality time together" undercurrents that gave the meals a sense of poignancy. And I didn't take photos of the people we were with. And I kind of regret it.

sales

Today. Monday. The start of a whole new week. Last week I was at about 50%. Exercise, blog, cooking, about half of where I'd like it to be. I hope to get back on top of things this week. But I'm trying to be a bit forgiving with myself, because I know this next month is going to be crazy as we get ready to leave. There is only so much one can take on at once.

But I did jog this morning and it felt really good. I took some time to shoot photos as I walked from one place to another, and it was soooo enjoyable. It feels like I finally have room to breathe again, after about 3 really busy, breathless weeks.

Saturday was kind of a fun day. I took my calendars (which are finally printed, but that's a whole story in itself) and some of my photographs to a craft fair, where I rented a table and set my work out to see how they would sell.

What sticks out to me most about the day is watching people look at my photos. It's kind of a vulnerable, intimate moment. It's like I'm saying, "Hi. Here's how I see the world. I hope you like it." From what I could see, many people did like it. My display seemed to draw them and my photos made them smile. It was awesome. Unfortunately, few liked them enough to actually buy a piece.

I think part of my downfall is that they were photos. Many people probably looked at them and thought, "Well, I could probably do that if I tried." And, yes, many of the shots were scenes that are common enough around here. But it actually takes a lot of time and intentionality to really get good shots.

Regardless, it was really neat to see people enjoy my photography.

I cleaned up with the calendars, though, which helped with the financial end of things.

OK. Enough for tonight. Time to get to bed. Hopefully you'll hear a lot more from me this week. :-)

tags

Have you ever thought about how funny it is that, when we join a big group of people, we write our names on a big sticker and slap it somewhere on our shirt? Looking around at the seminar room full of people last week, it just struck me as kind of bizarre. But everyone had done it, obediently and without thinking twice.

Do you notice how silly you feel when you go out in public and forget to take your name tag off? But there is no embarrassment when everybody else is doing it.

I also realized today that I was due for a change in perspective. I have been taking a photo a day for over a year now. And what began as a pursuit of beauty, the practice of really seeing beauty at least once a day, has now become daily pressure to "get a good shot."

Now, I even enjoy it from that angle. There is something exciting about the hunt, the tracking down and capturing of a good shot. But it isn't the same thing as pursuing beauty. There is no conquest there. It's more about opening your eyes to and appreciating what is already there. It's about breathing and basking and being. I need to get back to that.

re-restart

Today is Tuesday. I awoke yesterday vowing that I would get back into the swing of everything. Exercise, blog, e-mailing—all those things I have let go during these busy weeks. Well, Monday didn't go as I planned.

But Tuesday…

I'm finally gaining some traction. I got up and jogged. I answered some old e-mails and composed a few new ones that were long overdue. I had a meeting with Mr. to see where we were in our preparations to move back to the US.

Which we will do one month from yesterday. Whew. Wow.

I will not start the count-down yet. (Maybe with the beginning of December…) but in honor of the big change coming our way, here's one thing I will miss, and one thing I won't, about living here:

I will miss the old cyclo guy who lives and works on our street. (He sleeps in his 3-wheeled bicycle chair, so basically the street where he works is his place of residence.)

I will not miss the sight of emotionally unstable individuals heady with power (aka: the military) roaming the streets with semi-automatic weapons.

identity

I met early this week with a woman. She is a very unhappy person, and always seems to be in crisis. In all honesty, I was not looking forward to the meeting.

I prayed and asked God to help me love her in the way He did. I read John chapter 1 first thing in the morning, and the phrase "grace and truth" seemed to stand out to me. I asked Him to show me how to be a voice of both grace and truth in her life today.

At some point during the conversation she revealed that one message that had come through strongly in her younger formative years was that a woman's worth was in bearing children and pleasing her husband. She began looking for those roles to give her significance.

With a sad laugh of both bitterness and irony she said, "Look at me. I'm almost forty and not married yet. Where does that leave me?"

With shock I realized this person has been waiting for over half her life for identity. Waiting for a husband to define her. Waiting for her life to begin and feeling worthless in the mean time. It explained a lot.

I tried to convey her great value in God's eyes regardless of role or achievement. I reminded her that her position as a daughter of God is what should define her. I told her she had a lot to offer.

She looked at me out of the corners of her eyes with a bemused smile, not believing me at all. I could feel her ache, her longing to embrace my words. Could it really be? And as soon as hope flickered it died instantly, smothered by years of self-loathing and rejection.

As we finished our talk I realized that I hadn't persuaded her or fixed her. But at least I spoke some truth. And I thanked God for answering my prayer, because He had helped me see her through His eyes.

again

So I seem to have dropped off of the daily blog schedule again. It's not that I'm sick. I'm OK, although I still have this weird lingering cough. I am, however, quite busy. I felt lucky to just stay one step ahead of the things I needed to do, and filled every hour with productivity. When I did have a few minutes free, I just wanted to waste them. I wanted the luxury of not doing anything.

Hence, the blog suffered. I did, however, keep taking photos each day. Some days were more visually successful than others, but I did make a point to take them.

That's about the only thing I kept up. I also let my exercise slide, and I haven't worked in an extended time with God yet, either.

It was the final push to get everything around for some seminars I have been organizing. I booked the meeting place and arranged meals, advertised the event and took registrations. Sent out information and collected fees. So, whew. Yes. I'm tired.

Plus I was trying to keep all the other balls up in the air while I juggled this very large one. Coaching, meetings, calendar. And on top of that we have pushed our departure date to move back to the US up a month, so all of those arrangements suddenly feel very immediate and urgent.

I didn't handle the stress that well this week. Even though things were fine and I had no doubt everything would come together, I worried a good deal. Lost sleep. Which, of course, only makes it harder for you to be successful at the very things you're worrying about.

Anyway, I will play catch-up again with photos and multiple random blogs. I don't know. Has my reliable once-a-day routine gone out the window forever? It kind of feels nice not to be so slavish about it.

passion

My husband loves me. I know that without question. He loves me in a very gentle, steady, faithful way. No, he is not demonstrative. He is not emotional or passionate. He is solid.

And that is what I want. Truly. I grew up in a home with a unsteady man who had extreme highs and lows of emotion. It is not a good way to live. I am so grateful for this rock-solid man who takes life in stride and enfolds me into his world in an unassuming, comfortable manner.

And yet, and yet…

My fickle, fickle, foolish heart. It wanders, wanders, into flights of fancy. It imagines worlds of adventure, danger, heart-pounding drama. And passion. I don't even mean of a physical, sexual type. I mean that intense protective fascination and delight with another. Breath-taking. Consuming.

Two fatal flaws with this practice:

One: I don't actually want to live that way. The lives people live in dramas on TV, the highs and lows, near-death experiences every week, fiery relationships—no one can function like that. It isn't the actually the life I want.

Two: The reality is that I am loved in that way already. The I'd-die-for-you kind of way. I know Mr. love runs deep and strong, even if he isn't very expressive about it. And beyond that, I am loved by Jesus even more purely, more passionately, than any human ever could. His pursuit, wooing, sacrifice, and desire for me is beyond even my imagination. Better than any movie or book could conjure.

Why, why do I run to fragments of falsehood, something imaginary, when I could instead be nestling deeply into the reality of True Love? When my mind wanders, it does just that—untrue to the two men in my life who love me most.

sigh.

listen

I spent a good bit of the day yesterday listening to people. I seem to be good at it, and even though I don't say much, people usually say it was really helpful to have talked things through. I also find it extremely fulfilling. But I came away from the conversations yesterday wondering, wondering.

I wondered why people seem so starved for someone to talk to. Is listening a lost art? Are most people so interested in their own thoughts and words that they don't give others a chance to talk? Why is it so hard for some people to be open and vulnerable with another? Are trusting relationships so rare?

Of course, with the people I met yesterday our stated goal in getting together is for me to listen and for them to talk. It is a little one-sided. I don't have many expectations for reciprocation. But it makes me really happy to build them up like that. It's so wonderful to be a steady presence in their lives, to see them calmed by a few hours of being with me.

It's kind of like their thoughts and feelings are stormy waves that just crash and swirl around in their heads, with no outlet. And then, once a week, they can just let it all flow out. I'm kind of like a big rock that their pent-up ideas can flow around and crash against, but I remain unshaken. And somehow in the process the waters still, the confusion gets sorted, the emotions settle. It's an amazing thing.

But the other thing I started wondering—and this is a new thought for me—is, who does that for me? Where's my listener? Mr. is a lot of wonderful things, but when I express concerns or troubled thoughts, he wants to fix things. And that's not what I'm looking for. It's not listening. It actually inhibits me from sharing freely with him, because I see it agitates him and he takes such responsibility on  himself to make things "OK".

I know I don't have such a strong need to process things verbally. It does help at times, for sure, but it isn't my only way to cope. But, sure, I'd like someone to just sit and listen to me from time to time.

On the flip side, however, I also wondered—briefly—if I would actually be able to sit and talk about myself the whole time. I would feel kind of selfish. I'm not sure if I could do it, without trying to turn to conversation to the other person from time to time.

Please don't get me wrong. I really like the ladies I met with yesterday, and am SO happy to fill this role in their lives. I don't think of them as selfish—I see them as courageous, struggling with so many things alone. I truly believe they need the outlet I provide for them. I'm just not sure I have the same need at the same level of intensity.

Maybe that's what makes me a good listener.

misc.

Just random thoughts tonight.

Mr. cracked me up last night. I didn't have any plan or idea what to have for supper. He double clicked on a folder on his desktop and said, "Let's see what new recipes we can try." I said, "Do you just wander the internet looking for new recipes?" "Well," he replied, "You just see them now and then and think, 'That looks good,' so you save them to try later."

Not only did he come up with a winner recipe, he got the groceries required, and did all the cooking too. Am I spoiled? Yes I am.

I'm thinking I should do a photo exhibit entitled "Beauty and Barbed Wire." It is so prevalent here, you can't help but catch it as you take photos. And believe it or not, some of the shots are pretty nice. Who knew that barbed wire could be beautiful. I'll include a second photo tonight in its honor.

And finally I realized today that I like writing in a journal simply for the sheer pleasure of forming the letters. Yes, of course, I want to capture my thoughts, but it struck me today that a large part of the appeal was the simple satisfaction of writing the characters in an aesthetically pleasing way. Hmmm.

delay

How does one start heading for bed at 9:00 and not actually get there until almost midnight? Well, let me tell you.

First, lie in bed a bit and do Sudoku, to settle you in and still your mind. At just the time that you can't keep your eyes open any longer and you turn out your bed-side light, your little cat will come bounding in. This is the little cat who has slept practically all day, and you didn't have the heart to wake, because she looked so cute curled up in a little fuzzy ball.

She, on the other hand, will have no qualms about waking you, and will pounce on you whenever you move one muscle under the sheets. If you are unresponsive to said advances, she will yowl loudly, in a most pitiful way. Then you will repent of your hard-heartedness and you will get up and chase her around the apartment for a while, hiding, rolling balls, letting her attack your hand as if it was small prey.

When finally the kitty is lying stretched out on the tiles, sufficiently worn out, you will hear your husband call from the office. A friend half a world away has just popped up on skype and wonders if we're available to talk. You think, well, why not? I am awake this late, what's another hour, more or less?

You will proceed to have a really nice talk, disturbed only by your repeated yawning, which he doesn't catch because the picture quality on skype isn't all that great.

And finally, you, Mr. and the cat all snuggle into bed around midnight.

(Only to be awakened at 3:00 and 5:00, as the cat is frisky and wants to play. Even when you shut her out of the room, she charges the door, jumping at the door knob and claws at the wood.)

restart

So, last week I let everything slide. I didn't blog, I didn't exercise. I didn't even slip away for my half day with God. Everything went to pot. I was sick, and I had the big calendar project to finish. I survived the week, and I count that a significant achievement.

But this week is a new start. No more slacking. And so it was that I got up this morning determined to get back into rhythm. I still didn't feel great, so I chose one of my less strenuous workouts. But I did it nonetheless. I am definitely not at 100% yet, though. It was rough.

I didn't get much else done on my "to do" list, but it wasn't in a bad way. Some days I just stall out in motivation, or feel so down that I can't get going. But not today. I was physically tired, yes, so I napped a bit. But I also just did other things that I hadn't been able to tend to last week. I went to the market and got food to make supper. I read, I did a bit of writing.

I don't feel bad about the day. It was quiet, restful, and I caught up on some neglected things. However, I know I have a huge list of tasks waiting. I still feel drug out from the dregs of this cold hanging on. I will need to be more on my game tomorrow, but am having trouble really jumping back into things. Start slow and pick up speed: that will be the plan for this week, I guess.

wash

Please don't get me wrong. I truly appreciate the fact that a lady comes to clean my house for a few hours three days a week. It is convenient and I am glad to be relieved of some of the work. But on the other hand, it will be something I won't exactly mind leaving behind, either.

In some ways, it actually adds a bit of extra stress to have another woman puttering around your house. You want things done a certain way. You like things in a certain order. You have specific places where things go. She has other ideas. It doesn't matter that it isn't her house, she just does things the way she wants. I get tired of making suggestions and corrections over and over. Sometimes I conclude it isn't worth the fight.

Here's one example. We have a washing machine. Most nationals don't have them, and so don't exactly understand how they work. I showed her how to use it, and have begged her time and again to use a plentiful amount of laundry soap, and to set the water level to high. (I would explain that there needs to be plenty of water for the clothes to slosh around, except I don't know how to say "slosh" in the local language.) But she thinks she's saving me money by skimping on the water and soap. I can't tell you how many times I have been half-way through a day only to have a shirt start smelling a little ripe, simply because it wasn't terribly clean in the first place.

A few days ago I stripped the bed and left the sheets and pillow cases for her to throw in the wash. When they were finished, I helped her hang them up to dry, because they're very large. As we were spreading one sheet out I noticed part of it was dry. Strange. I remarked on the dry spot. She said it's because that sheet was on top. I said, well then you didn't use enough water to begin with; we'll have to do the load again. To which she replied, changing her tune, no, that part just dried quickly; there isn't any reason to do the wash again.

I surrendered, tired of dealing with this same issue again and again. But when she left I did the load over, using generous soap and plenty of water. She really isn't saving us time or money if I have to redo the job.

And it isn't even work I mind doing. I did all my own cleaning for years before hiring her, and found it satisfying. We were just trying to be kind by giving her a source of income. I'm still glad we've done it, but it's a tension I won't be sad to leave behind.

high

Thursday I had two meetings. They took a good chunk of the day, but were one-on-one and rather low key. In between times, I had that rather lost feeling of someone who has pushed hard to a deadline and finds themselves on the other side, purposeless. I knew I had lots of other things to do, but just couldn't quite remember what they were.

I did, however, feel an urgency to keep looking for places to stay in Florida. I think I forgot to mention that sometime in this past week we officially arranged with our organization to take a leave of absence for a year so that we can do our sabbatical. It's basically resigning, but not quite. We will have no income, insurance, etc. But if we decide, at the end of the year, that we want to continue with the organization, we can just step back in; no re-application required.

So, that means we're NOT staying for the regional meeting in early January, which also means that we're leaving here about a month earlier than we originally planned, which also means we'll be with family for Christmas, and have a longer time in Florida than we thought at first.

All that to say I spent much of my free time on Thursday surfing the internet for short-term rental options. I sent a number of inquiries, not hopeful about any of them.

My evening appointment was at a coffee shop with a lady who also had a cold. You should have heard us. We sounded awful—coughing constantly. But it was a good visit anyway.

When I got home I checked my e-mail, and I had a very affirmative response from one of my inquiries. I re-checked their web site, to remember which one it was, and couldn't believe my eyes. It was one of the really upscale places. Just gorgeous. Their lowest price is at the very top limit of our budget. But I think we could swing it…

I was ecstatic. My first thought was, "Really God?? Would You do that for us?" Then I felt bad that I was so incredulous. I mean, He isn't an ogre, and even though life has its share of disappointments and tough lessons, He can surprise us lavishly at times. Mr. is one of His gifts that still takes my breath away with His utter goodness to me.

Speaking of Mr., I am afraid I let my excitement show a bit too much. I think he has reservations about the place because of the cost. (He seems quite ill at ease to not have an income in the foreseeable future. Understandable, but I've been there before. I don't know that he ever has been.) But now I know he'll go along with the idea anyhow, simply because he saw how much I wanted it.

Although nothing was definite, as I went to bed I was so pumped. I had trouble settling in to sleep. And then, as the hours ticked away, I realized with dismay that my high was not simply from finding a really good housing possibility, but also from the fact that—although I had emphatically asked for decaf—I'm pretty sure I got regular coffee at my evening meeting. I was so buzzed. I think I only slept 2 or 3 hours total. Arrrrgh!

driving

Wednesday was a very full day, and I still wasn't feeling the greatest. I had five meetings total, and was going non-stop almost all day. Fortunately, one of the meetings was with the guy from the printer's, to hand off my calendar. Unfortunately, he didn't show because he was with a relative having surgery. Fortunately he sent an underling to come get my files. (Unfortunately, the guy's thumb drive must have had a virus or something, because they weren't able to open my files once they got them back to the shop—but I didn't find that out until Friday.)

Anyway, my funny story happened while traveling to one of my meetings. It was a supper meeting. The moto driver wanted a bit more than I usually pay, saying the traffic was going to be heavy. I didn't budge, though, and was about to find someone else, so he relented and agreed to my price.

Almost immediately we hit a traffic jam. I hadn't thought about the fact that it was 5:30 and basically rush hour. Only, no one was rushing. We crawled along for a little bit, but my driver was not to be hindered. Calmly he jumped the curb and started driving on the sidewalk. Pretty common practice here. At one point we were actually in a traffic jam on the sidewalk, because so many motorbikes had taken this alternative "route". I just had to chuckle—mostly because I realized it no longer strikes me as odd to use the sidewalk as an extension of the road.

He got me to my meeting on time. I gave him the extra fee he had been asking for.

clarity

So Tuesday I woke up early. I was not well by any means, but feeling less foggy-headed. I awoke with a panicked feeling, but stayed in bed praying until I felt more calm. And then I worked with focus, and had an incredibly productive day with my calendar design.

It sometimes frightens me how absorbed I can get in a project. I don't remember much else the whole day. Mr. made me lunch, but I wasn't terribly hungry for it. I did glance up from my computer for one brief moment and caught a brilliant cloud formation outside of my window. I stopped for five minutes to go out and shoot it.

By mid-afternoon I was ready for a national to come and check the spelling in his language. He came obligingly and we started through the pages. January, February…through them all, the holiday page, and finally the cover. He puzzled over the title I had given it briefly. "Then and Now?" I explained I had called it that because on each page (sometimes twice on a page) is a photo of ancient carvings depicting the culture over 1000 years ago, and also a modern photo, showing people doing basically the same activity. (It was actually a very fascinating project to put together.)

Only then, after poring over page after page in detail, did my translator/editor notice the theme. Of course he was quite impressed with the concept, congratulating me on my cleverness. I would have been more encouraged if he had seen the brilliance of my design without having it explained to him. :-/

Oh well. Great art speaks for itself. Or maybe it doesn't. Either way, it's too late now…

resume

Well, for those faithful readers whose lives have been meaningless for the last week with no posts from me, I'm back. And, for those who are confused, no I'm NOT writing about my qualifications for a particular job. The I would have spelled it "résumé". I merely intend to convey that I will now recommence my regular posting schedule. Or try to.

I truly can't believe it's been four days since my last post. I am a bit disappointed that I fell off track so drastically. My only redeeming grace is that I have continued to take a photo a day, which—I'm reminding myself as much as anyone else—was the original purpose of this whole exercise.

Contrary to popular belief, I did NOT fall off the end of the earth. But my cold really knocked me down. And yet I couldn't allow myself to stay down because I had this huge calendar project to finish. So between dragging myself out of bed, and working against a deadline feeling like a zombie, I had about all I could handle.

There were some funny moments along the way, though. Instead of posting them all in one really long entry, I am going to write one at a time, and include one photo per post until I get caught up.

This first photo is from Monday. I was so miserably sick. But I just couldn't bear not working on the calendar. So I drug my lap top into bed with me and designed and napped on and off the whole day. The kitty was confused by this strange behavior, and she kept me company much of the day.

My first funny story is about her. She is still a young cat, and has a good bit of energy and play in her. We usually get two pretty intense play times in a day. But with my workload and my cold, I just didn't have the energy this week. She, of course, burned up her extra energy by being naughty, as a few shredded rolls of toilet paper, and one abused cardboard box will testify.

One evening I decided that—for the peace of our household—I needed to at least try to give her some play time. We have this one game, where I leave a door open maybe six inches or so. She waits on the other side, and I stick my hand through the opening so that she can pounce on it. It is most effective when I hide my whole body behind the door, so that she can't see me. That way my hand is a complete surprise.

So, I had energy, I figured, to at least play that game. Head kind of drooping I hid behind the door and she had a grand time jumping and batting at my hand. Until the one time when she missed my hand all together, and slammed into the door with her whole body weight. Which meant that the door then slammed into my head, and I had a nasty knot on my forehead the rest of the night.

It hurt, and I felt kind of stupid, but I felt so lousy anyway, it didn't seem to make much of a difference overall. It kind of seemed par for the course, with how this week went.

crud

My schedule yesterday went something like this: sleep, wake up, get ready, go to church, eat lunch, sleep, wake up, get ready, go to church, eat supper, sleep. I made it through the day with my cold, fulfilling all my duties, but by the end of the day I was feeling rather rough. This morning, as I type this update, I'm feeling pretty much like crud.

Mr. did a great job with his sermon. I was very proud of him. I listened to it in the morning service, because I was supposed to cover  Sunday school for the 4 to 8 year-olds in the afternoon. I did in fact fulfill my duty, but the teacher for the 9 to 13 year-olds never showed, so I ended up having them in my class as well, since no one wanted to go back up to the adult service. Some of the older kids were helpful, some not so much. It was barely controlled chaos much of the time. I am just grateful no one got hurt and everyone was returned safely to their parents at the end. I don't even think we ruined any clothes, although some faces and fingers were smudged with ink from our craft, which was making cards with rubber stamps and ink pads. What was I thinking??

By the end I barely had any voice left; you need to use it quite a lot to corral kids and keep their interest. We then went out to eat with a few friends.

The only other highlight of the day was as we came out of the restaurant. We saw people staring up into the night sky. Curious we joined them and realized that they were looking at the moon. They explained that a wondrous sign had been spotted, and that you could see the old king's face in the moon. Now, the elderly king father of this country just died a week ago. We looked and, aided with a sketch by a helpful moto taxi driver, we were able to see what they were looking at. Mr. and I went away a bit puzzled. Either these people have never noticed the man in the moon before, or he has miraculously been replaced by the late king, because they were very confident that the face they were seeing was his. Hmmm.

So anyway. Today I have no voice, ache from head to toe, and feel a bit nauseated. I think the cold is progressing, because I feel it moving from my head down into my chest—which how it usually works for me. But I can not just sleep the day away, as I ought to do for maximum recovery. I need to get this calendar done. I hope I can make significant progress today. At least working on the computer is not a strenuous task.

The happiest part of the day so far is that a little kitty is sitting on my feet, sleeping. Nice. :-)

sore

A sore throat hit with full force last night around bed time. A restless night ensued, up maybe every other hour. Nothing seemed to ease the pain. I drank a lot of water, because it temporarily eased the dry, scratchy feeling in my throat. But then that just meant I was up even more frequently, running to the bathroom.

Regardless I managed to be up and functional for the rest of our council meetings this morning, then on to a discipleship meting at 2, followed by a bit of Sunday school prep and then a skype meeting at 7.

Now I'm feeling pretty drug out and desperate for bed. I have just a little more to do for Sunday school tonight. I really want tomorrow to be a sabbath, with only rest and church. I do feel a bit weary to realize that I will probably go to both services. Mr. is preaching and if I don't hear him in the morning, I won't get to hear him at all, since I am covering the kiddies' Sunday school in the afternoon service. I would really, really like nothing more than to stay home quietly most of the day, but I want to hear Mr. even more so. It's important to me to support him in that way, even if he says I don't have to.

So an early bed time tonight would be optimal. So I'm calling this done and finishing my Sunday school stuff so that I can go to bed.

Oh, and cuddle with the cat, who is gratifyingly pleased to see me after my 2-day absence. :-)