I’m in Lusaka for a vaccine, to pick up Doug’s VISA, and to turn in a proposal for Camp GLOW. (I didn’t write the proposal, but one of the volunteers I’m working with on the camp did. Peace Corps has finally finalized the new funding guidelines, so we’re trying again, but because of the push back, the camp can’t be held until December, which is during rainy season….) Following in Doug’s footsteps, I’ve either lost, had stolen or spent all my money. Most likely, I miscalculated how much money I brought. I frantically went from ATM to ATM trying to withdraw money (which I need for Zanzibar anyways), but was denied by every machine. Stuck at the mall with no money for a taxi and it being too late in the evening to safely take a minibus by myself. Luckily, two locals struck up a conversation with me and offered for their brother to drive me where I needed to go. (They couldn't fathom the fact that I lived out in the bush and even wore Eagle PatPat brand tropicals.) So helpful and generous Zambians can be!! I had to wait around for an hour or so, but they were good company. Makes me wish there were people who spoke English in my village so I could have actual conversations sometimes. Everywhere in Lusaka (the affordable places, anyhow) are booked because some religious group is coming in, so I’m attempting to sleep in the volunteer lounge at the Peace Corps office tonight. There’s a couch. I got into a little bit of trouble about it. Hopefully I don’t get into more. What else was I supposed to do? Gonna have to try to get a free ride back home tomorrow…

My advice to any Peace Corps Volunteer in Lusaka is – Make friends with the person next to you on the minibus!! Minibusses are terrible, confussing, and corrupt, so I always greet the person next to me, who is absolutely thrilled and tickled that I know broken Bemba. You can ask them the real price for your destination so you don’t get ripped off, they’ll shout at the conductor for you if he doesn’t give you your change (and would probably even beat him up for you), and they’ll make sure the bus stops at your stop. It’s great.

My sense of time and distance has been altered here. For example, I used to think that traveling from Meadville to Pittsburgh, about two hours, was an epic journey. Now to travel from Mpelembe to Serenje to buy food is two hours and I consider that close. Like going from Meadville to Linesville. Equivalent with the epic Pittsburgh trip is now the eight hour trip from Mpelembe to Lusaka.

We found out that the train tracks are ok north of the accident, so we’re heading to Zanzibar on the fourth of July!!!!!

I’ve managed to get some news here lately, so I’ll comment on that. It’s weird that all this chaos is going on in Zimbabwe, so close to Zambia, yet Zambia is so docile. I’ve been hearing about the increases in gas and food prices, and the possible recession and depression. Scary. Gas prices are up here as well, but the only other thing I’ve noticed is sugar. It used to be K4,500 for one KG. Then it was K5,000. Then K5,500. Now it’s K7,500!! I heard the cause might be from a water shortage near the sugar factory, so maybe it’s a different issue altogether. I heard from a Serenje shopkeeper that Obama won the primaries. (She didn’t realize that he also has to win the election in November to actually be president.) Everyone here is happy about it. They think it’s going to change the world. I’ve really been out of the loop on all this, but I’m glad Hillary didn’t win. Mostly because she supports the war, but also, unfeminist as this sounds, I don’t know if I want a female president. I fiercely support gender equality, but I also fiercely oppose corrupt leaders (aka: all leaders). I don’t know if a female president would be a step forward in feminism or a step backward because women are now joining the evil ranks. If a woman became president, then I couldn’t use the excuse, “It’s evil men that are ruining our world.” I think this is a case where men should be depowered and not women empowered. No presidents and gender equality.

Patty also has some commentary on world news. Probably the most fun thing to do in the village is hand a kid a Newsweek (free propaganda given to Peace Corps Volunteers) and see what he/she has to say about it. This time, Patty pointed to a picture of an Italian supermodel wearing tight jeans with shoulder length brown hair and declared that it was me. Not so fast - it’s not a compliment. The model was a man! He then found an old-timey picture of a white comedian with his face painted black in a baggy suit and top hat. He was sure this was Doug. (Maybe it was social commentary on Western imperialism?) And when Doug goes to Serenje or Lusaka, people think he is either Jesus or Chuck Norris.

In Zambian news, we have two new laws. It is now illegal to smoke and pee in public. I’m not sure if it said anything about pooping in public. Makes it kind of difficult, seeing how there aren’t really public bathrooms. A Peace Corps Volunteer has already been arrested and deported, not even knowing the new law was in effect. He got caught peeing outside a bar in Lusaka, and as they were leading him to the police station, he lit up a cigarette.

We’re in the thick of cold season now. I kept thinking, “Ok, I must have just imagined how cold it was last year. It couldn’t possibly have been that cold,” so I didn’t have anyone send a hat, scarf, and gloves like I had planned. Well, it is that cold!! (But don’t bother sending anything. By the time it comes, it will be hot season.) It gets into the thirties at night. It’s only a few degrees warmer inside the hut because it’s so airy. Brrrrrrr!!!!! Sooooo cold at night and in the mornings!! I long for warmth and then it gets ridiculously hot during the day again and I long for the cold. I think it’s because there’s no humidity this time of year, so the air can’t hold hot or cold. Like the desert. I’ve always been sensitive to cold, but now I just feel totally out of whack. It’s still not as cold as a Pennsylvanian winter, but I just suffer and shiver so much! We’re just not used to going from extreme to extreme in one day. Doug also has a theory that Zambians don’t feel cold the way we do. Australian Aboriginals don’t shiver and I think it’s the same here. Since they’ll never be exposed to life threatening coldness, they don’t need a bodily mechanism (shivering, feeling cold) to alert them of danger. So they just don’t shiver and feel uncomfortable trying to keep their core organs warm. If we go with that theory, however, it should seem that Zambians should be more sensitive to heat – sweating, etc – than muzungus, but that’s not the case either. They’re fine in the heat while we’re sweating and practically passing out. I think muzungus are just designed poorly. Our bodies and health are inferior in almost every way – can’t stand the cold, can’t stand the heat, sun burns, back problems, heart problems, lack of strength/endurance, cancers. How was it that we ever took over the world, anyhow?

I’m actually working on a theory that all humans are descendants of aliens. It’s really the only explanation. Not even getting into the ancient cave paintings of UFOs, star-worshipping cultures, and structures or land manipulations obvious only from above, we’re obviously different from all other animals here on Earth. Just look at what we’ve done to this place!! The Earth and humans don’t mix. Besides our inability to survive in our own climate, as mentioned above, we have all sorts of problems with basic survival. We don’t innately know what foods we can eat and not eat, like the chickens do as soon as they’re born. We require tools for most everything, which isn’t true of other animals. What other animal is allergic to its own environment? Obviously it’s those alien dust and pollen particles which are disturbing our respiratory systems. Many of us can’t even sleep or poop correctly. A human is “the animal that doesn’t know how to live.” Is democracy, socialism, or anarchy the right way to organize ourselves? Should we form monogamous or polygamous relationships? How do we raise children? Should we stay in one spot or migrate? Should we work in an office or farm the land? How do we know what we want? Chickens and bees know what to do with their lives. Nothing is known for humans. We have these concepts that aren’t tangible. Is there a god? Is there such thing as love? There is nothing that is intrinsically right or wrong, good or bad. On our own planet, we are born knowing these things. We also live in a big pool of warm jello that maintains our body heat perfectly all the time. I’m cold.

Speaking of star worshipping, Doug’s building a new bathing shelter, because the old one is so drafty that it’s just absolutely miserable to try to bathe, even in hot season. It’s very tall and strange looking, so when Joshua came over to inquire what we were building, we simply told him “Stonehenge.” He pondered that for awhile and seemed to accept it. A few minutes later, neighborlady also came over to ask about the strange structure. Joshua knowingly told her it was Stonehenge.

Doug also made a drainage system for the tippytap. Pretty impressive!

The neighbors and the headfamily both wanted a family photo. Pretty much impossible to get the whole family together, but we tried. Zambians have certain poses they do for the camera. Usually looking away, looking very sad or serious, or pretending to be engaged in something. They also need props. Iron Mumba solemnly stood there with his little battery operated radio at his side. The headman held a cabbage in one hand and a flashlight in the other. Peg wanted to be photographed holding a purse and a bottle of skin lotion. The best was when the headwoman insisted we bring over our plastic basket and, much to his chagrin, Finnigan.

Finnigan is such a little treat. I’m just in love with him. Doug is too. He says he’s redeemed cats for him. The Professor and Finnigan sometimes groom each other in those hard to reach places on the head. Finnigan has now started grooming our heads too when we’re looking a little too crusty and he thinks we must be having trouble licking our own faces. He especially likes to clean up Doug’s beard, which to his defense, probably does have some leftover food in it.

Well, Doug and I have done it again. Poisoned ourselves, that is. (Aliens!) This time, when pounding icikanda to make icikanda (“African bologna” – if we could figure out how to market this stuff to vegetarians in the US, we’d be millionaires), curious what it was like raw, Doug and I both sampled a little bit. At the exact same second the next day, Doug and I both keeled over holding our stomachs, let out a coordinated fart, and ran to the icimbusu. Exact same second, I’m serious! When Joshua heard we were sick, he came running over afraid we had eaten raw icikanda. He was right. Luckily, we hadn’t eaten very much and were fine.

Also had a bit of salmonella from eating raw cookie dough, I think. Not from our chickens! They wouldn’t do that. It was some other egg.

ARHGHHG. My computer just crashed. Have to retype now. But now I get the time I already spent on here for free. Bittersweet. More bitter than sweet.

We visited Peter again. Apparently his house got struck by lightening during rainy season and burned down! Terrible! Tried milking his cow for goat practice. It’s really hard! It’s exactly like you said in your letter, Bonnibelle, that I felt like I was hurting the poor thing! We watched Peter castrate and remove tails from his sheep (with rubber bands). Did you know that sheep don’t have bobtails?!??!??!??!?! They’re long tails, but they’re always cut off!!! My worldview is blown. We also played on his radio, went canoeing, and slept next to the river under the stars.

Corncob destroyed the strawberries. We’re giving the garden one last chance with a new nursery and then I’m giving up. I’ll save farming for when I get home to that amber waves of grain fertile soil. Africa just needs a few glaciers or earthquakes or something to stir up the dirt.

I’ve been sewing chitenges lately. Made some handkerchiefs. And most glorious of all – a chitenge hammock for Doug’s birthday! It’s quite exquisite, I must admit, but it’s also rather uncomfortable because it rides up the buttcrack. Oh well, at least it looks good. The patios has enough of a fence now that there’s some privacy, so we put up two hammock stands and have been reading out there. Nice.

Now for some tragic news. Artic, New Chicken’s only biological chick, and “my” chick that I held while hatching, is gone. She was taken by a chicken hawk while we were gone one day. It was pretty devastating news. Supposedly they also took a puppy from a neighboring village, but that might just be village grapevine. A few weeks before, I had a firsthand encounter with a chickenhawk when Finnigan came running into the house like a bat out of hell. I heard a thump on the roof and thought the Professor was up there and had scared Finny. I went outside and lo and behold, there was a gargantuan hawk right on top of the roof, several feet away from me. It flew away and I ran inside to get my slingshot. It started to fly away, so I chased it down the path for awhile, only to see that there were two of these humongous birds. They disappeared before I was able to even miss them with the slingshot.

Work has still been at a standstill. The timetable situation has just been so ridiculous, I won’t even go into it again. Finally one day, I went in there and practically begged them to let me teach my freakin class! I’ve taught one time this term. One!!!!. Funding for the library has also been frustrating. It keeps going back and forth between the zonal, district, and national level of the Ministry of Education. Nobody knows anything and everyone says something different. Right now I’m just waiting for the icimbusu to be finished so the building can be declared legally “done” and then the furniture is supposed to come from some unknown source. I don’t think the library will ever be done by the time I leave. On a bright note, another volunteer gave me an old Mac laptop for the library. There’s no way to transfer a document to print or anything, because the CD drive doesn’t burn and there’s no USB drive. So basically, it will just be for storing a backup record of all the books. I was thinking of seeing if some organization would donate library software, but I doubt it would work on this computer. It’s so different from even modern Macs, that I’m going to have to explore it a lot myself before I can even teach people at the school to use it.

It’s funny, not in a haha way, that what the education project is supposed to be doing might become completely irrelevant. The first generation started up community schools and LTM centers (teaching with radio program). Then the Ministry of Education realized there were too many community schools, so they said, “Stop opening new community schools!” My generation is trying to train those community school teachers, many who haven’t even finished grade 7 themselves. Now the Ministry of Education is saying that they don’t want the unqualified teachers at all and want to send government teachers to the community schools. All that training we’re doing and then they get kicked out! (And all that work they’ve put into forming their own school only to get kicked out!) Furthermore, the funding for LTM to be broadcasted runs out next year I think, so all that LTM training is useless as well.

After my first no-show community HIV meeting, I decided to give it another try, combining it with my no-show Jatropha meeting. The date ended up coinciding with when the Minister of Land’s wife was coming to speak, so there were actually about 150 people there! Not sure if any of them showed up for my meeting, but they were a captive audience anyhow. (Twas pretty humiliating, however, when I was standing up there speaking in front of the group only to see the vehicle for her honorable pulling in. Everybody jumped up and ran over to the car, singing and dancing, leaving me standing there alone.) I tried to gauge interest in other topics for future meetings, and there really wasn’t any interest at all. No one wanted to learn about beekeeping, gender, agroforestry, or income generating activities. The headman was interested in fishfarming. And about four people (out of 150) were interested in health, nutrition, and family planning. I’m going to try to have monthly community meetings anyways. A kind of “Life Skills” class for the community, since things aren’t so hot at the school.

It’s hard to help people when they don’t want to be helped. What I think is important (gender, health) they find unimportant and what they find important (radios, tin roofs) I find unimportant. I’ve given this example before, but it’s happened again, so I’ll give it again. One day I heard a ruckus outside only to find neighborlady and Joshua scrubbing my pots that they had found drying on the dishrack. They were perfectly clean, but Zambians need to have the outside of their pots shine too. As I got closer, I found that Joshua was in fact using my knife to scrape the pot. They think what they’re doing to help me is important. But not only is it unimportant to me, it creates a huge problem. Now I have to rewash my pot after having strangers handle it, which means drawing water from the well, chlorinating it and waiting thirty minutes. They’ve also ruined my knife. And they’ve also made me feel guilty that next time they beg for something I have to give it to them. I can’t help but wonder if they feel the same frustration when I try to “help” them.

In Peace Corps Central Province news, we had our Provincials meeting and party. The theme was Disney characters – or – cowboys and Indians. I was Rafiki from the Lion King, complete with a pole of dangly bangles, leaves, and pods on the end to shake. Turned out that I was the only one to choose that theme, so at the last minute I had to switch to Native American Shaman. Just put on some beads and kept the pole. Had an Iron Chef competition. Our team lost, but my dessert won high ranks. It was quite beautiful, topped with chunks of broken chocolate, the platter drizzled with chocolate and sprinkled with powder. Even a little flower. Very nice. An issue that came up at the meeting is that Peace Corps wants us to fire our guards and hire guards from an actual guard company. (Is there such thing in Zambia?) This upset everyone a lot, cause the guards have been here for many years and everyone knows and trusts them. We started up a petition, but I’m not sure what it can do. If anything, we might be able to hire them back as part time gardeners. Also came up that our readjustment salary hasn’t been updated for inflation in over ten years, so a petition went around for that too. We also just had a going away party for several of the volunteers whose service is up. Sad. It’s weird that I’m one of the old people now. There’s only three people in my intake, so now 99 percent of Central Province volunteers have come after me. Doug and I worked hard taking pictures of Serenje and buying souvenirs because it might be the last time he’s in Serenje as well. Another volunteer insisted that she wash Doug and my clothes when she saw us because they were so filthy! Funny thing is, is that I just did laundry that week and took a shower, so I was feeling pretty proud and clean for once. Oh well.

Doug and I have done some visiting lately. First we visited our nearest Peace Corps neighbor. There was an agricultural show (mini mini mini Crawford County Fair) going on we wanted to check out. It was pretty disappointing in a rather humorous way, but we did get to see a few vegetables we didn’t know. It also amazed me that one lady had made peanut butter and jam. That would never happen in Mpelembe, even though it’s just thirty kilometers away! Peg recoiled when I let her taste the peanut butter I was making. There’s just no interest in food if it’s not nshima. In fact, it isn’t food if it’s not nshima. A person may have eaten 3000 calories of peanuts and sweet potatoes that day, but if they haven’t eaten nshima, they will tell you they are suffering, starving, and haven’t eaten anything all day.

We also visited a volunteer who was having a meeting about goats. The meeting ended up being in Bemba, so it was hard to follow, but it was nice to see the goats and a different village. It was like night and day to Mpelembe. Or as Doug described it – the difference between Pittsburgh and Paris. The houses were “painted” up nice with different colors of mud, some with even little triangles for decoration (the closest to Zambian “art” I’ve seen), the yards had shrubs and flowers. People had banana trees and hadn’t cut down all the big trees. Even a little furrow right through her yard! Very beautiful. We got the numbers of several people who might have goats, but haven’t heard back from any of them. When we were eating dinner, her mom called and when she said “Carrie and Doug are visiting,” her mom said, “They have blogs, right? Doug hasn’t updated in a while!” She’s one of the volunteers about to leave (I don’t think she’s told her dog yet), so she gave me a few of her shirts she didn’t want to pack. I’m going to come back to the states with a whole new wardrobe! Everything I brought has been destroyed and I keep getting all this free clothes from volunteers who are leaving.

Visiting these other villages made me realize that things are a little off in Mpelembe. At Alex’s, he lives very close to his family, yet they didn’t bother us at all! Just friendly and pleasant, but not harassing us all day. They even brought us food and heated water to bathe. The people in Laura’s village weren’t a hassle either (although she’s had some problems with drunks and theft in the past), and seemed much more open to new things. Both places just seemed more peaceful somehow. The vibes were different.

Different how? This is what’s been going on lately:

I wanted to get some reeds mats made for the patios. There’s a man who makes them about ten kilometers away, so I went to him in April. He said he’d have four mats done by May 12th at K10,000 apiece. So come May 12th, I biked to Kachelo only to find he had zero mats done. Forseeing disaster, I told him I only wanted one mat afterall. He begged and pleaded for me to buy at least two, because he had already cut the reeds for them (nowhere to be seen). I gave in. After coming back several more times to find no reed mats, he finally finished. He then told me the price was actually K15,000. So not only were the mats over a month late and I didn’t even want the second one but was forced to buy it, but now he wants to charge me even more?!? I argued it down to K12,000, but was absolutely infuriated. After discussing it with some teachers at the school, they urged me to refuse to pay more than the originally agreed upon price of K10,000. The mat maker and I parted our ways, both fuming at each other.

Things have continually been stolen from the homestead. Construction materials, clothesline, clothespins, boxes, dish scrubbers (can you send some more, Pookie?), etc etc etc. When we returned one time after being gone for a day or two, we found that someone had reached up under the roof and pulled out the Christmas lights mom sent that were hanging near the ceiling. They cut off a few of the lights, now making them unusable. When I asked the neighbors, they said they saw someone trying to break in through the window at night. I told everyone I could and an announcement was made at the school to try to scare any kids who might be the culprits.

Stuff like this makes me dread returning home after being away. What’s going to be stolen? What’s going to be messed up? What ridiculous thing have the neighbors done (e.g. lock up our chickens)? Are all the animals here? Is the house ok? I’ve also become an untrusting person. For the most part, Zambia has made me a stronger and better person, but the one thing I fault it for is making me very cynical. For example, when the neighbors told me Artic had been taken by a chicken hawk, my first thought was, “You’re lying. You took her and ate her.” From first hand experience, we know that eighty percent of what they tell us is a lie (excluding greetings - it’s hard to lie about whether it’s a good morning or a good evening), so why wouldn’t I doubt it? They’re the family who cried wolf. Then my mind starts coming up with proof against them. New Chicken is a good mother, so why would she fail suddenly the day we leave? Well, they were angry at us the day we left. Gee, Artic is the exact chick that Mrs. Mumba pointed to and insisted we give her to eat. Odd.

Then came the patios issue. Lately we’ve been giving small jobs to Joshua so they can have a little income and stop begging from us. It was going ok until we hired him to fetch grass for the fence. He brought some grass, and then we had to leave for the agriculture show. Joshua wanted a pre-payment for some vital thing for school, so we paid him for most of the job. When we got back, there wasn’t one strand of grass there and there wasn’t for the rest of the week. We argued about it every day for a week and half, us wanting Joshua to finish the job, and Joshua wanting the rest of the money for the job, as well as some vegetable seeds we said we’d give him. He even kept asking for more jobs before he even finished this one! He was also angry that we hadn’t cut our grass for the chief’s visit (we couldn’t because he broke our hoe) and wanted me to pay him for that (it’s the housing committee’s job and is supposed to be done for free.) It got to the point where we would wake up and he’d be outside our house and we’d immediately start arguing. Finally, one morning, wiping the sleepers and tears from my eyes, I threw on some clothes and biked in a furry to the school. There I broke down in front of Mr. Chisenga, saying I was to the point of changing sites. He called the headman and headwoman (who was absolutely up in arms that I was having a problem, and went on for about five minutes in Bemba, hands waving, fists shaking, it was pretty hilarious, I love the headfamily) and another man from the housing committee together and held an intervention meeting with the neighbors. Wanting them to rectify the relationship with the neighbors, they instead severed it, telling them they were never allowed to step foot in my yard again. (They don’t consider my front yard my yard however, as they still use it as a path every day.) I was pretty shook up. I just wanted things to be better, not to have NO relationship with them at all. After considering my relationship with them, however, sacrificing the ten percent that is positive for getting rid of the ninety percent that is negative, I think it’s probably for the best. We’re attempting to be friendly and still greet each other, so hopefully it won’t be an all or nothing situation. When they’re good, I honestly like them a lot. It’s a sad situation.

Now for the possibly huge tragedy, or, the maybe overly cynical conclusion (to be confirmed in a later blog) ---- I think the neighbors or other villagers killed the Professor. Several days ago, on the morning after “the intervention,” we heard a big ruckus that was the undeniable sound of an animal in the village. Dogs barking, people hooting and hollering, the bloodthirsty cries of Victor. We didn’t go investigate. By that evening, we realized we hadn’t seen the Professor all day. I joked that the hunt was probably after him by our angry neighbors. By the next morning, he still hadn’t returned, and we started getting really worried. We asked the neighbors about the ruckus, and they said they were still sleeping when it happened so they didn’t know. (A lie, because they wake up at 5:00 and this happened around 7:00. Plus, we heard Victor’s voice.) Doug asked another neighbor, and they said the animal they were after was an “impaka.” We figured that was deer type animal because both “impala” and “puku” are deery things. It wasn’t until I was on transport to Lusaka yesterday that I asked the driver what “impaka” meant. When he said “bush cat,” my heart stopped. I just felt sick. I had to endure the rest of the ride holding back tears and the urge to jump out of the car to go back to Mpelembe to assail Victor. Right now I’m just keeping my fingers crossed that when I return home, the Professor will be there safe and sound. I really hope that I’m wrong. I will readily accept guilt and fault and embarrassment from the gods and all blog readers for being so untrusting and cynical, as long as the Professor is ok. If not, I am fifty percent sure (there’s a lot of percentages in this blog), that I’m going to request a site change. Killing my cat is the last straw.


Handy Hut How To: How to Make a Small Roof

Stick a post in the ground knee to waist high, depending on the roof. Cut about ten doublethumbsized straight branches and arrange them in a cone leaning on the center post. Harvest some ulushishi (bark fiber), soak it, and use it to tie the sticks securely together at the top. Harvest many singlethumbsized branches. Start near the top of the cone, attaching the branches in a ring around the cone, securing with ulushishi at each intersection. Continue making bigger and bigger rings, about a foot apart until you have reached the bottom. Harvest dry grass. Arrange grass facing upwards in sections and tie with ulushishi. After first layer is done, arrange a second layer with the grass facing downwards and tie with ulushishi, being careful not to tie in the same spot or else they’ll be a gap for rain to get in. Trim edges of grass around the bottom evenly to look smart. Harvest several young boys to help you lift the roof onto the chicken/goat/etc house. Chapwa! (It’s done!)


PS: A Nice Story
One of Buddha’s disciples went to him and asked to be shown Heaven. The Buddha said, “If you want to see Heaven, you will have to see Hell first.” The disciple agreed. The Buddha took them to Hell, where an enormous banquet table was set up, piled high with fabulously delicious food. Unfortunately, all of the diners had, instead of hands, enormously long forks on the end of their wrists, and they kept trying to get food into their mouths, but could not reach them. They wailed and gnashed their teeth in misery. The Buddha then took his disciple to Heaven. Here was exactly the same situation – diners at a sumptuous banquet table, with long forks on their wrists instead of hands. The only difference was that, in Heaven, everybody was feeding each other.


bo-bo and Nikki – Congratulations on the wedding!! Can’t wait to see the pictures!!! Also, Happy Birthday!

Tony and Carrie - Congratulations on the wedding also!!

Dad – Happy Father’s Day!

foo – Look forward to the upcoming package!! I sent you something to your home address a couple weeks ago, so watch out for that. What’s your address now?

Everyone – Happy Fourth of July! It’s not going to be the fourth of July without fireworks at the Park though?!?!?! I feel bad I wasn’t around when that movie was being filmed too. I feel like I should have been there, seeing how they’re making a movie in my Park and all. And I can’t believe the Ultimate Trip caved in too. It really seems like the end…

Frank and Debbie – Thanks for the box of treats for Doug’s birthday!

Mom and Dad – Thanks for the coffee for Doug’s birthday and the zipdrive for the camera. Also just got a package with the umbrella that you sent in March!

Bonnibelle – Just got the birthday present you sent in March. Thanks!

Pookie – I want to relearn guitar when I get back. Wanna start a guitar mandolin band?