Day 3

On my evening stroll around the neighborhood I found the hospital has erected a number of tents outside the emergency room. I hope they will never be filled. I invite you to read the hilarious and agonizingly brilliant blip by Soozaday that says how mad we are going with this stuff. I can't imagine anything better being written about it. She totally nails it.

For homework, Bella wrote several poems in both English and Spanish, and my favorite is this one (proud grandma here):

Night
Dark sky
pajamas
lights off
a book
sweet dreams

Noche
Cielos oscuros
pijamas
luces apagadas
un libro
dulce sueños

After Facetime school I spent the day lightly editing the southern Africa story. It still has no title, and so far it exists only in my laptop and as a collection of Blips tagged #NovelorMemoir .

The years in Lesotho are sharply etched on my bones, maybe because I kept a journal or maybe because every day of it was remarkable for its difference from everything else in my life. Oddly the next four years in South Africa are much less vivid. They were historically important, the Mandela years, but I was working so intensely that my life became a blur of overwork again, much as it had been at Smith. 

I will turn off comments now and get back to the writing, if only because I believe it is good to finish what you start. I can spend hours on Facebook and Blipfoto if I let myself, so I'll apply a bit of discipline and go back to the writing. I hope I can at least keep up with some of your journals, but if I'm not responding to comments on mine, maybe I'll do the writing.