When Camille's adorable french babysitter Najet got her belly button pierced I asked her if it hurt. She said, "Oh, not like when I got my nose pierced! Zen I was screaming, Stop! Stop! I don't want it anymore! And zay say too late! Eet's done!" I think that may be me now with this foreign service thingie.
I'm reading the Pearson's account (again.) One woman there grew up in the Foreign Service and had been in the Foreign Service for ten years and she said Niamey is the only place she's ever had a breakdown. I guess I'll have to remind myself that it's not New York, but if I can make it there, I can make it anywhere.
On the other hand, I correspond with a Foreign Service spouse who says Niamey is her all-time favorite post, and she wishes they could go back. And she had a post in Paris. So go figure. I am hoping I'm shipping enough books and can get the kids to school and back and go for swim and visit Peter at work and somehow keep it together. Must send pool chemicals. And order all new 220 applicances? I don't even like appliances, but now I'm realizing how fond I am of my mixer and toaster. Oy.
This could also be 2 and half weeks of no Peter and a rainy four-day weekend talking.