I am still haplessly emailess. My formerly lively internet existence has slowed down to a pathetic crawl- which is ok, because my life is doing a spastic sprint in all other directions.
We are throwing a big party here at home in less than two weeks. It's supposed to be a "Goodbye Party" celebrating the end of our nine years in Africa, but I think it refers to me saying goodbye to the last shreds of my sanity.
And I won't even mention how it's going trying to sell much of our stuff and get things organised for the move.


My mental state is certainly not helped by the fact that Blogspot is torturing me. Sometimes I'm completely blocked from blogging for hours. Or there are times like right now, when it viciously denies me the right to publish photos with my blog post. And I assure you that I have some very cool photos right now. I went pagne shopping this morning with a friend that owns a tailor's shop and I stumbled across the weirdest pagne design EVER!!! It must be seen to be believed. But you don't get to see it today, apparently. But trust me when I say that you will ENVY my freaky purchase!


On a happier note: today also brought word from, my lovely, bookish pal Ms.B asking in the blog comments section if I have ever read David Sedaris. The answer is: not until quite recently. It just so happens that Aussie Neighbor Tony wandered over today with some back issues of The New Yorker. And one of them happened to have a piece by Sedaris, an hommage to French spiders.
Quite a coincidence, non?
It was a very funny story and I wished, wished , wished to be him! I mean, I wished that I could write funny stories about expat life that are published in The New Yorker magazine. I don't actually want to be a gay man living a spider-infested house in Normandy.