Too cool for graduation

Though I finished classes LAST May, my graduation ceremony was last week. Woo hoo! I didn't sign up to attend the ceremony since I didn't think we would be living near Baltimore (oops!), so we celebrated in our own way: tri-tip, cupcakes, and strawberry margaritas courtesy of my sweet husband. Plus, not going to the ceremony made me feel like one of those people who is way too cool for silly graduation ceremonies. I'm not, but it was fun to pretend.

Sidenote: Tri-tip is a strictly California thing. Like, people outside of California have never heard of it. This is shocking to me.

Cupcake master surpriser, at it again!

"I would like some tri-tip now, please. Thank you." Is it dumb to make up dialogue for your dog?

Thoughts on being a Californian

Dog shelter employee when we adopted Sundance: "You're from California? You should have said that earlier! Yeah, you can adopt him. Californians are so laid back."

Landlord about a kale salad David made: "What is this stuff?! Seriously, Californians always know how to do the coolest stuff with greens."

Friend from church: "I could spot you guys from a mile away- tall, blond Californians."

My boss while waiting for her to finish an email: "Gosh, you're such a laid back Californian, just sitting here nicely. Don't let me take advantage of that."

New friend: "You're from San Luis Obispo? How could you leave?!"

Landlord while looking at my garden: "You planted hot peppers? That is such a California thing to do."

Neighbor: "I've never met a Californian who didn't want to ultimately end up back in California."

Introducing....

The Sundance Kid!

Age: 9 months
Weight: 40 pounds
Hair: reddish-brownish (like his namesake)
Likes: socks, toys, all other dogs (especially licking their faces), tissues, my garden
Dislikes: grates, thunder, baths
Hobbies: stretching, begging, prancing, laying in strange positions, running up hills
Nicknames: Sunny, Dancer, Prancer, Dancey Pants, Sunz, Bunz, Mister, Baby Monkey
Breed: anyone's guess
Cuteness level: maximum

David at the Louvre

Last few months in 15 pictures

I guess it's about time I update this thing with life since Sierra Leone.


We left in early December. A day later, we arrived in London (via car, water taxi, bus and plane).

It was snowing. We didn't have winter clothes. We ate a croissant in the airport and I was pretty sure it was the most delicious thing I had ever had. Also, we looked silly.

In London, we drank cup after cup of mulled wine to warm our bodies (and hearts). Look at this cold face. We were unprepared for the winter wonderland.

We wandered around Bath for a few days, then hopped over to Paris to meet up with my Dad and Jen. I learned I was too old for hostels after a terrible night in a 12-bunk room full of 18 year old male Aussies.

We had an amazing week full of stories, exploring and food (cheese! chocolate! wine! pasta!) with the best travel buddies around. Really.




David was sporting an impressive beard.

Back in London, we hung out with our new friend Rob and his family (who are the family of Freya, our dear friend in SL). He introduced us to some excellent places (a toast and jam restaurant where you toast the bread yourself!) and we attended his Christmas choir concert.


Shortly before Christmas, we headed back to California. I finally got to meet my sweet new nephew, Conor.

In January, we moved back across the country. All of our things, BACK to the East Coast. Now we live in Washington, DC. We got a dog. We love him.

That's not him. This is Sura, his cousin. Isn't she a beauty? I'll introduce our pup more formally soon. He deserves his own post.

Great, now all caught up!

Inshallah

Friends in Sierra Leone, I hope to see you again some day.

More starts

I have been wanting to write about this for a long time now, but I have been hesitating. There is just too much to say, too much to convey, and these words won't really do.

I mentioned before that mental illness is a serious but largely ignored issue in Sierra Leone. I saw obvious, severe cases every day, and there are many more cases that sit just below the surface. There was a man who wandered our neighborhood, some days alert and asking for food, and other days slumped over on the side of the road and unresponsive. I would buy him bread or hand him a few plantains, ask him his name, attempt conversation. I asked people in the neighborhood if they knew him, but no one did.

In order for him to get long-term care, we would have to find his family. I asked him if he had family nearby and where they lived, and he pointed down the road. I flagged down a taxi and David and I went with him to find them. After driving all around Freetown, it became clear we weren't going to find anyone. The taxi driver told us that the man's directions didn't make sense and what we thought was Krio was actually nonsense. Perhaps his family was in a different town. Perhaps he didn't have any family left.

City of Rest, in the middle of Freetown, is the country's only mental rehabilitation facility. It is run by locals and receives no government funding. I spent a couple of hours there one afternoon, taking photos for an article and meeting the residents. City of Rest is building a new facility outside of town that will allow for more residents and more room for rest and rehabilitation. But until they raise more funds, it is filled to capacity and unable to accept more people.

The only other option is the government mental hospital. When you mention this place, everyone has a rumor to share. People chained to beds. One small meal a day. Abuse by guards. Bribes and cruelty. But, is it better than being on the street?

City of Rest is not perfect. There is no running water and there is not enough medicine. But there is love there, and diagnosis and therapy and a desire to see people healed. The staff is fighting to get the right medicines and to learn how to better treat the residents. And then there are the residents themselves, the woman who was once unable to care for herself and is now healthy and smiling. The former soldiers who have found a community and a sense of home.

No, it is not perfect, but it is a start. I think we need more starts.