If I Were Leaving You

It's started, the "By This Time Next Week" game. By this time next week, I'll be beating James soundly at Setback and/or drooling on Lara's shoulder. We learned tonight that the average evening temperature in Kibogora, Rwanda is 60 degrees, perfect for smart green jackets and light grey sweaters with the arms all stretched out. We also learned that Mike is the go-to guy for Godiva ice cream and that we'll be--I'm sorry, the excitement is getting to me--expected to learn a traditional dance.

!!!!(Kim!)!!!!

I knocked off a bunch of case law today and got to spend a quick dinner with my best pal Kenji. People seem to like knowing pointless minutae about other people's lives, so I'll tell you that he had a hot open-faced roast beef sandwich, and I had a hot chicken cutlet sandwich on a hard roll with roasted red peppers, American cheese, lettuce, tomato, and honey mustard. We were pressed for time, so we threw a blanket down on the grass right in front of the Turnpike and were applauded by at least one of the local yokels. You stay classy while I'm gone, Kenji.

After our impromptu picnic, I headed to the Feays for some folding of donated t-shirts, the aforementioned eating of ice cream, the singing of various songs for presentation purposes, and the gathering of those little yellow sheets y'all have been sending in support of the trip. (Don't worry, they black out the amounts but leave your words.) That's my favorite part of this so far, I think: knowing that there are other people with their internal clocks set to African time. Yes, I'm aware of how maudlin that sounds, but it's true. I love words. I love everything about them -- what they say and what they can't encompass, what they look like in different languages, how many there can be on any given page -- but more than anything, I love what comes off the page when someone's taken the time to write me the old-fashioned way. It's a beautiful moment, the first time I see a dear friend's handwriting. It kind of takes my breath away.

In other news, there's a pool party at the Hornes' this weekend; come, and bring friends! 'Tis Marieka's and Kevin's birthdays today, and we will celebrate (or they will; I won't be there long) accordingly. I have a memo threatening to destroy my soul, a "talk" to plan, some packing to do, and hearts to break -- and that's just tomorrow!

May you know what he knows, may you see what he sees.