I'm going to watch the last half of Fiddler on the Roof after packing for a road trip with the Davis family. We're going to East Pokot, a very rural part of Kenya. Davis grew up there as an MK. I considered not going since I'm still not feeling 100%, but it's one of those opportunities you really shouldn't miss out on. Partly because I rarely get to do anything fun on weekends. (Woe is me!) But mostly because it will be an amazing cultural experience.
Yes, I am taking my camera.
And I'm leaving my computer behind.
These random pictures of Flannel, by the way, are taken with my computer's built-in-camera. It makes it easy to quickly snap a picture and post it. Like this one, from earlier in the week. It makes Flannel look like an angel.
She really isn't, though she has her angelic moments. Tonight is not one of those. Soon after I took the first picture posted above, she started with her nightly gymnastics. She can make somersaults holding a pocket pack of Kleenex. She can even perfectly unwrap brand new feminine products from their containers and play with the contents. And she loves to see if she can pull my entire mosquito net down from my bed! But her favorite game of all is to see how much of the red sand from her litter box she can displace onto my white bathroom floor. She's no angel, I assure you.
Flannel doesn't know yet that she'll be home alone for the next two days. Poor kitten. Mama Chiri will come and feed her. She might actually hang around and play with her a little. I know, my neighbor must think I'm really weird. Actually, I would've thought it weirder if I drove the 120km return trip to Kipkaren today to drop Flannel off at Kierra's. So I'd rather ask Mama Chiri to stop by.
On a totally different note: I found something good on the Web tonight while looking for those Pokot links, a blog of a fellow missionary who lives elsewhere in Western Kenya. This entry on her blog made me laugh. I can so relate to the comments about what's considered appropriate for women in this culture. It is mind boggling. You can breastfeed whenever or wherever you want without anyone flinching. But don't wear trousers. Why? Because legs are sensual. It makes no sense to me.
I should be packing, I know. I'll get off my soap box. Didn't mean to get on it, actually.
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