Monthly Archives: November 2005

In which t’s seamstress makes her smile

Conversation I had with my seamstress last night: “Good evening!” “Good evening!” “I was wondering if you could make me a skirt and top out of this.” “Sure. What do you want?” Our Heroine gestures. “I want shoulders like this.” She points. “I want a skirt like hers.” “Okay, let’s take your measurements.” She pulls out [...]
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Thanks!

Thanksgiving was amazing. Of course it was amazing. It was organized from some pretty incredible volunteers up North who worked their asses off to cook, clean, prepare, and generally throw a great party. Those kids are pretty incredible. You all were expecting crazy-ass stories of drunken debauchery, weren’t you? Hah. My [...]
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Too Damn Early.

Franklin: Meow! (Wakeupwakeupwakeup!) Theresa: Shut the hell up, you stupid fucking cat! Franklin: Meow! (No you shut up! Wake up and play with me! Play! Play!) Theresa: *pushes cat off bed* Franklin: *thinks it’s a game, jumps back on bed, bites Theresa’s nose* Meow! (This is fun!) Theresa: *throws cat off bed* [...]
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Turns out, I like my city.

I love how volunteers come to visit me and complain about the city. They’ve got these wonderful posts where everyone is nice, you can bike everywhere, and integration is more-or-less easy. Then they come to big bad Cotonou and complain that the zemis suck, that the pollution makes them ill, that it’s expensive, [...]
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In which t is relatively satisfied

I’m starting to feel fair to middlin’ well integrated, which is pretty damn exciting. It’s nice to stop and chat with the beans and rice ladies, the beignet ladies, and my vegetable lady, but that’s not quite the same as actually having friends. During Stage, we were warned that it would take months [...]
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More or less busy, these days. It’s hump day, thank goodness. I’m finally catching up on NaNoWriiMo. Only seven thousand words behind (that’s including the words I haven’t yet written today). It’ll be even less after I get some writing done today. Work is keeping me hopping, as it should [...]
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In which t is a coward

You might ask yourself, what is Theresa doing in her office at six o’clock on a Sunday evening? The short answer is typing up my novel. The long answer is hiding. That’s right. I’m HIDING. Turns out, Darling Heroine is a coward. [edit]Descretion is the better part of valor! [...]
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