Happy birthday to: Jim (70 isn’t so bad, but don’t try it in Africa); Brad (hope you got the message 12 time zones away); Dave (father-to-be); and Laura (a BIG one). We hope they were all happy occasions—but indubitably won’t compare to mine.
You’ve seen my first birthday cake (at Gloria’s). My second cake (thanks to Sandy) was shared with nine other PCVs here at home. The occasion: a Hanukkah party arranged by Katie, one of our frequent visitors. We had latkes with sour cream and Mo’s home-made applesauce, kugel, fruit salad, and my cake was decorated with a miniature menorah. They all spent the night with us because some came from clear across the kingdom. I’ll let some pictures tell the story.
Some were first-time guests, so we heard some familiar comments which I think we haven’t shared with you. Upon entering our palace, they look around and say, “Wow, this is like a real house…and has a ceiling”. A couple of times, we’ve heard, “I don’t mind doing the dishes when there’s a real sink”. “I can’t believe I just flushed…and I’m still inside”. Katie is known to open our pantry door and simply stare, lustfully. A favorite comment of mine was when we were asking for some technical assistance from the younger set, apologetically, and Anna Mae said, “That’s okay, I have parents, too”.
(That's Katie in the kitchen. Kyra, our other frequent visitor, is in the back row, wearing green.) I had a happy birthday. We'll talk more, later.
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