my facial

I had my facial this afternoon and I thought I'd share the experience with you so you can live vicariously through me.

First of all, I should tell you that I really hate getting any sort of treatment overseas for the following reasons:
1. The people attending to you never speak English.
2. The people attending to you never speak English.
3. The treatments are never the same as what you get in the US, so you don't really know what to expect, which leads me again to:
4. The people attending to you never speak English.

But I put all that aside and went to my 1pm appointment since a) I had a vision in the shower this morning that today was the day to get a facial, and b) because I succeeded in making the appointment in Spanish (even when I couldn't remember the word for "face", I was able to explain that I wanted a "cleaning of the part of the body that has eyes, a nose and mouth") and c) I'd been able to explain further that I wanted a hydrating facial. I felt like getting the appointment would be the hardest part of the whole process.

I found the salon and was promptly escorted back to the treatment room. I was directed to the bathroom where I was told to change out of my shirt and to put on the gown that was sitting on the counter. Now I don't get these sorts of treatments often - in fact, when she finally started working on me, I realized it has probably been 7+ years since I got a facial - but you would think that I could figure out how to put on the little cover-up thing, right? That would be wrong. It was a hot pink number that looked like a child's dress-up skirt made out of cheap tulle. This skirt was really just a rectangular piece of tulle attached together by one piece of velcro. I came out of the bathroom apologizing for my ignorance and looking like SuperWoman with a cape on. First mistake. The skirt was supposed to go under my armpits not over my shoulders. It all made perfect sense then.

So then I got on the table and the young woman started her work. It all started like any facial that I've ever had. She rubbed some cream around and then wiped it all off. It was all good and familiar.

Then I heard some whirring noise and the next thing I knew - my eyes were closed throughout - there was what felt like a belt sander being applied to my face. It wasn't uncomfortable, just a little disconcerting. And she got a little close to my year-old new eyes which you know I'm very particular about so that made me a wee bit nervous.

After the sanding ended (which seemed to go on a very long time), the next thing I felt was hot, humid air being blown straight on my face. I love the tropics as much as the next guy but it was a little hot and humid and close for comfort. I had to keep reminding myself that I could still breathe so I didn't get panicked. After that blew for a few minutes, she put some more cream on (with the hot, humid air still blowing) and wiped it off.

At that point, I could electronic equipment starting up. There was some beeping that came across louder than the jazz music they had piped in. The lady gave me this metal prod to hold which was attached to a curly cord which was attached to who knows what. At this point I opened my eyes so I could try to figure out what in the world was going on. No such luck.

The lady started rolling what felt like a mini-paint roller all over my face. She asked if there was any discomfort and I said no because there wasn't. I honestly couldn't figure out why this had to be electronically operated. And then she cranked it up a little and holy toledo, the "discomfort" got worse and worse. It felt like little pricks of heat anywhere the paint roller rolled. At this point, I asked her what was the purpose of this machine. And of course, the answer was in Spanish (see answers 1, 2 and 4 above as to why I don't like getting treatments overseas). I understood something about "penetrating" and that was all I got. I told her it felt like the machine was doing its job because the heat pricks were definitely penetrating something, and she excitedly agreed. I still have no idea what the purpose was of the metal prod I was clutching with a death grip, unless it was to hit her with if the pain got to be too much.

The next part of this fun facial afternoon was getting cotton balls covered in some liquid on my eyes - mind the eyes, lady - after which she placed what felt like a sheet of cheesecloth over my face. The cheesecloth had been covered in some liquid but it was all very cooling and didn't bother me. Until she started applying cream all over the cheesecloth which extended from my forehead all the way over my face all the way down my neck to my upper chest. Once she plastered the cream on, the only parts of the cheesecloth that weren't stuck to my face were my nostrils and my eyes. Everything else was glued down. Like plaster of paris. Like she was making some sort of mold of my face. And I lay like that for ages. And more ages. And then another era or two. Until she pulled the whole thing off in one piece like it was a gigantic mold. And then she picked pieces of lint off my face and from my hairline. It takes a special kind of person to be a facial technician.

At this point, I could only focus on three things:

1. What time is it?
2. How much is this going to cost me? Surely more than I thought. I hope I have enough money to pay for this.
2. How red is my face because I have to walk a number of blocks home and I really don't want to look like I've had a dermatological eruption.

She continued on with the rest of her hydrating facial duties and then it was all over (after 1.5 hours of treatment). My facial and neck skin is as smooth as a baby's (except for that red area where a pimple was on its deathbed, but now has been aggravated by assault) and it feels very hydrated. St. Patrick (and St. Joseph) would be happy.

NYR 12-1-11 - on the road again, once again

Today I took my second work trip. Another day trip to a place much less dangerous than yesterday's trip, so I felt much more at ease.

I have zero military experience and don't think I've been on a military base but two or three times in my entire life. So two days in a row makes me feel qualified to appear in Mash should they ever bring that series back to life.

Today's trip was way more civilized; I even got lunch at the fancy military club off-base. After yesterday's lunch of one of my granola bars, a piece of fish overlooking the swimming pool seemed downright luxurious.

I took a ton of photos on the charter plane coming back so I could capture what most of this country looks like but which nobody gets to see up close. It is truly a stunning country. (Look for the rainbow photo as we entered a storm. Also look for the photo of just one example of the greenhouses that abound in this country - proof of where all your cut flowers come from!)





For the opportunity to live in such a beautiful place and to finally get to see it, I am truly thankful.

NYR 11-30-11- traveling on the job

Today I took my first work trip. It was just a day trip, but I was scared. Not scared of doing the work that was necessary on the trip, but scared of where I was going. Remember how I told you months ago that I've read the books that former hostages of the FARC have written? And how I know I'm not of the material that could be tied to a tree for years or chained to other people and marched through the jungle for weeks on end? I may or may not have been at a location where something like that could happen.

I prayed and prayed and prayed on that airplane that God would just get me in and get me back out.

Because let me tell you, I saw a whole lot of jungle out of that airplane window and not a whole lot of malls and movie theaters and McDonald's. I do love a hot french fry every now and then and I don't think you get those when you're tied to a tree for years on end. I'd packed a couple granola bars and some chocolate wafer cookies but if anything happened to me, I know I'd be a nervous eater and those provisions would disappear in about 14 seconds. All I'd have left to show for myself is some bits of granola stuck in my teeth which might provide some sort of residual nourishment.

All's well that ends well because I am obviously back safe and sound in one piece. And the place really was stunningly beautiful. If it were anywhere else, there would be tennis clubs and golf resorts and expensive weekend homes shaded by all those gorgeous palm trees.

I took just one photo today. It was on the base airstrip before we left. I thought this Adirondack-style chair made from a used pallet was very nearly the most ingenious recycling I've ever seen.

For living to tell the tale, I am truly thankful. Seriously.

NYR 11-29-11 - reliving the memories

The rain has settled into Bogota. It's chilly and rainy and pretty much miserable all the time. Actually that's not true. There are a few hours of beautiful sunshine that lull you into thinking that the rain is ending. But then by mid- to late-morning, the clouds roll in and the rain starts. And the rain stays. And it's not pretty. We're talking pajama-wearing, on-the-couch watching Food Network, eating bonbons while you bulk up for a long winter's nap kind of weather.

I didn't take many photos when I was in DC for my training but I was just looking through the ones I did take, which happened to be on the most magnificent fall day that you can imagine. Blue skies, crisp air and beautiful, fresh air.


For the ability to experience this truly fabulous display of Mother Nature the first time and to re-experience it with photos during these dismal days of Bogotano winter, I am truly thankful.

NYR 11-4-11-a perfect score

Today I scored 100 on my midterm.

Yes, that is a perfect score.

Yes, I am an over-achiever.

No, I did not sleep two winks last night because of anxiety. It took a good two hours after i got the test results for the knots in my stomach to unkink.

I am too old for this stress, and I am way too old to ever consider going back to school. Too.much.pressure.

For happy endngs on the midterm, I am truly thankful. This really was a case of answered prayers.

NYR 8-30-11 - my visit to the dentist

Today I saw the (scary per Mac) Dra. Marcela. She really is such a nice woman and I don't know why he's scared to go see her. Except that she found two little holes/chips in my teeth.

WHAT?

I wear my mouthguard (almost) every night to prevent grinding and I take better care of my teeth than nearly anybody I know.

And I have two teeny little holes?

So I go back next week to have resin applied to the holes to prevent cavities.

For the holes not turning into cavities yet, I am truly thankful.

NYR 7-6-11 - now you see it, part 2...

...now you don't.

(photos coming someday)

For my summer haircut with the always-fabulous Luanne at Stella Nova in Summerville, I am truly thankful.

(A photo of my summer 'do will surely be forthcoming later. Since I'm single-parenting right now until Jimmy comes home on Sunday, I have no photos of my new haircut because I'm the one taking all the photos. But truly the ever-fabulous Luanne has worked wonders. It's much shorter and takes a couple seconds with the hairdryer and VOILA!)

surgery is scheduled

Next Thursday, 7am, is the big day. Wow, I'm excited!

feeling a little sorry for myself

1. Jimmy "had to go" to Key West for a conference this week. The weather right now in Key West according to weather.com: 82 degrees and Fair. The weather right now in Bogota according to weather.com: 55 degrees and Mostly Cloudy. It would be "mostly cloudy" right now because there can surely be no water left in the heavens after what has poured down on this city in the last 24 hours.

2. God is apparently busy making more rain to replace those empty heavens because weather.com calls for rain all day tomorrow here.

3. Jimmy's in Key West, and I am not.

4. The whole country is flooded and has created devastating losses for a lot of people who didn't have a lot to lose in the first place. I realize I'm being entirely trivial about this so please forgive this rant in the midst of such devastation for so many people: the truck with our shipment out of storage was enroute from the port in Cartagena today (for delivery at my apartment on Friday), but the floods messed up a bridge and the truck can't get through until the bridge is repaired. There is obviously no detour route, and the truck has gone back to Cartagena to wait in a dry storage area. Which means the serving stuff I need for Thanksgiving won't be here by Thanksgiving. Again, this is absolutely petty in the big scheme of things - and I do understand that - but if you knew how we'd been battling against stupid people in Washington, DC who aren't able to do their jobs which means this shipment is arriving more than 2 months after it should have been here, then you might feel just a teensy bit of sympathy for me.

5. I think I have whatever that disorder is when you don't see the sun and it's rainy all the time and you get depressed and feel sorry for yourself.

6. Jimmy's on his third trip to the US in 3 months (and has traveled within Colombia at least once every other week since August), and I've left Bogota one time to go to Cartagena for 3 days. I might also have cabin fever besides the disorder in #5.

7. There is interminable construction next door and it's making me crazy. I hear a saw all day long from 7:30am to 5:30pm.

8. I have an earache in my right ear. This, of course, is undiagnosed but it hurts. Add that to ailments in #5 and #6.

9. Did I mention it's been raining nonstop and it's sunny in Key West?

But there are good things that I need to concentrate on:

1. I've met a couple awesome women recently that I love being around.

2. Mac is loving school. He also had a playdate with a new (non-school) friend that went perfectly. They played for close to 6 hours with nary the first bit of bickering or cross words. I thought I'd died and gone to heaven.

3. I cooked all day yesterday in anticipation of friends visiting next week and Thanksgiving. My freezer now has 10 cups of cooked chicken ready for stuff like quesadillas and chicken pot pie; 20 cups of homemade tomato sauce; and 30 cups of chicken broth. I can obviously make as much cornbread dressing and gravy as I want to for Thanksgiving with all that broth. Oh, and I made two cheesecakes for the freezer. I feel like eating one right now by myself.

4. I didn't have Spanish today, which, sadly, makes me inordinately happy.

5. Mac's 8th birthday is on Saturday and he is infectiously excited.

6. We have friends coming to town next week and we are soooo excited. They'll be here for Thanksgiving and Mac's birthday party and we feel so blessed to have them here for both events.

I'm going to eat some chocolate. That won't make the rain disappear but it might make me feel better....

it's the little things, right?

This post may be more than you want to know about me so you can stop reading now if you don't like TMI.

Today at Wal-Mart while shopping for essentials before our packout, it was as if the metal roof opened up and the sun came down to shine right on this:

I am the world's biggest fan of the Schick Personal Touch razor. Even after nearly 4 years living in Brazil, I'm still a leg shaver as opposed to a waxer, and the Personal Touch has been my razor of choice for 20 years. Personal Touches were eco-friendly before it became de rigueur; you just bought that big chunky razor and replaced the blades as needed instead of buying those orange disposable razors. We are talking smooth shaving that must have pulled the hairs out by the root because it took ages for stubble to appear. And it had a considerable weight and design that just fit in your hand right.

When we got home from Brazil and after I used up my supply of replacement blades, I tried to find blades and there were none to be found. I panicked. Maybe there had been a recall? Maybe they put too much aloe in the little strip above the blade or something? I searched for a long, long time and could not find any replacements anywhere. My beautiful brown razor sat on the edge of the tub, unused, forlorn, and sad.

What I should have done was search the internet.

But alas, I did not. I mean, if Wal-Mart and Target don't have it, then surely it must not exist, right?

(That was tongue in cheek before you fuss at me.)

After obviously buying the necessary replacement razor (which has left me stubbly about 20 minutes after shaving and therefore unhappy), I finally threw out my Personal Touch after months of not using it. It was a sad day for me. In 20 years, I've owned 2 Personal Touch razors - I had to buy a second one when I worked for the FDIC because we were working at a bank in Myrtle Beach and I forgot to put my razor in my travel bag. Fortunately I had the two of them because one fell off a shelf at a dive hotel in Mozambique and cracked in half on the tile floor. In case you can't tell, it's been a real love affair - can you remember the history of all your razors over the last 20 years???

I had given up on looking for the replacement blades since I no longer owned the razor. Until today. My moment of bliss came in Wal-Mart of all places. I was trying to figure out how many replacement blades I'd need for two years for the pink, plastic, stubble-producing razor I'm currently using. The answer was too big to figure out without a calculator.

Then all of a sudden, I saw the Personal Touch replacement blades.

There was no Personal Touch razor in sight, but I thought to myself that surely I would be able to find one somewhere if they still sell the blades. I went to my old friend, Amazon.com, and I have now ordered a new Personal Touch razor from some store called The Razor Shoppe. I am so thrilled that I probably won't be able to sleep tonight.

I am not a hoarder by nature, but I intend to buy as many replacement blades as I can get my hands on. A future crisis must be averted.

my night with the porcelain goddess

The virus struck me last night. As many Clorox Wipes and as much Lysol as I sprayed when Mac was sick, I really thought nothing, including small pets and houseplants, could survive. But my sister, the doctor, tells me these viruses are very, very tenacious and can replicate with just 10 live particles. That's like a speck of dust that I obviously missed with my Wipes.

Last night I was watching tv and felt queasier and queasier until I was hit by the first eruption of the most violent vomiting I've ever experienced. It made me feel so sorry for Mac that his body was racked by the same vomiting a couple days ago.

I quickly got in the bed, only to be awakened at 9:30 for round #2, at which time the virus graced me with its presence from both ends.

This went on every hour only until about 12:30pm when it stopped. I can tell you that every time I got back in the bed, I prayed to the Lord to make this quick. And He surely did.

I, of course, am not a doctor, but I think that by the virus making an egress from both ends, I cut my "active sickness" time in half. I'm basing this on the length of time Mac was actively sick. So that is a positive. I'm now left with weakness - expected - and these awful achey pains in my thighs and lower back - not unexpected. My neighbor's family all had the virus a couple weeks ago and she said the aches are a symptom of the norovirus and would be gone in a day or two.

After consulting again with my sister, I am now eating bananas to restore potassium lost through diarrhea and I'm going to medicate with Advil PM when I go to bed. I would love to be able to sleep and these aches make it impossible to get comfortable enough to sleep.

I don't often get stomach bugs, so I really marveled last night about a couple things.

1. I woke up before every "active sickness" with more than sufficient time to get to the bathroom. The queasiness was really very mild when I woke up and gradually strengthened until it was time to make a move. How does a body know to wake up? I could have had a mess in my bed otherwise.

2. The body's ability to expel things is really quite horrific and dramatic and violent.

I do see the light at the end of the tunnel, especially if tomorrow is the last day of the leg aches. The only really good thing that has come out of this sickness is that my stomach is flatter than it's been in years. I know it'll go back to normal as soon as I start eating, but too bad it's not bathing suit season yet!

just a little catching up

After I get home on Friday, I'll post about the NYC trip, but let me just tell you it was fantastic. We had great weather (that wasn't predicted), we had reasonable crowds (that weren't expected) and we did everything (and more) that we wanted to do. We all agreed that if we tried to re-create this trip, it would never happen as well as it did this time. Thanksgiving in NYC v. 2009 was one for the books. But more on that later.

On Monday, Mom and Mac flew back to SC and I flew on to Chicago to meet my best Brazilian gal-pal Gisele and her husband Flavio. Flavio had a medical conference to attend and Gisele and I had a retail therapy conference to attend.

Fortunately, the SC-bound flight got off on time. The Chicago flight was delayed nearly two hours because of bad weather. Finally when it was time to board, everybody gathered close to the gate entrance. It was at that point that I noticed TSA agents flanking the doors of the gate and talking to the gate agents. Was this standard protocol for the Newark airport? I glanced around at other gates that were boarding and didn't see one other TSA agent. Clearly something was up. We got ready to board and still the men were there. When it came to be my turn, I handed over my boarding pass which was scanned and handed back and I entered the gateway ramp. At that point, a TSA agent was exiting and I heard an agent at the gateway entrance ask "did you find her?", to which the exiting agent said "she wasn't in there".

Ummm. What?

Who is "she" and did you check all the bathrooms for her? Any other ideas where she might be?

So it's a 2 hour, 1 minute flight from Newark to Chicago and I kept one eye opened the whole time watching out for "her". All's well that ends well. The flight was uneventful and for that, I'm eternally grateful.

And now I'm here in Chicago which really might be one of my my favorite cities in the world. My first trip here was in 2000 when Jimmy and I ran the Chicago Marathon with my best friend Caroline. Allow me to tell you there are better and less painful ways to celebrate your 30th birthday, but we spent a great week in Chicago (most before the marathon when we could actually still walk) and a love affair was begun.

My second trip to Chicago was with my dear FDIC friend Brenda. We escaped young children (she has a daughter who's 3 days older than Mac) for a girls getaway when the children were nearly 3 years old. As a first-time mother who'd been tethered to her young child (in those nearly 3 years, I'd only spent 1 night away from Mac), a few days in Chicago was a gift from the heavens above and the love affair with this city continued.

Now I'm back in a different season altogether. Both a different season in my life (a geographically single mother with a very active 7 year-old all-boy boy) and a different season of the year (Christmas with all the lights and decorations and festive feel) and the love affair blossoms.

Today has been lovely. After the grit and dirt and smells of NYC (and I LOVE NYC so don't misread anything here), Chicago seems downright clean and sparkly. There aren't nearly the crowds that descended on NYC for Thanksgiving weekend, plus I'm not hanging on to a young boy, terrified that he'll get swept away from me by the crowd. The weather has been beautiful today -about 50, brilliant sunshine, blue skies - so that didn't hurt anything either. They're saying Friday's high could be 29. My blood isn't that thick and this could definitely hurt the love affair. Good thing I'm departing Friday morning!

And if you come to Chicago and are looking for a great hotel, I can recommend the Hotel Felix. It's about 5 blocks off the Magnificent Mile, so it's convenient to all the action, but when you get in your hotel room, it feels like a peaceful oasis. The Felix is an eco hotel, so the carpet is made out of something recycled and the key card is made out of corn and other biodegradable products. I'm not an eco-freak, so all this environmental friendliness guilted me into not leaving my towel on the floor to signal I wanted a clean one after just one use. That's the only negative as far as I can tell. To make up for that, the bath prodcuts are WONDERFUL, the bed linens are FABULOUS and the color scheme uses these lovely, calming earth tones. I could live here forever in room 214.

I will close for now, but promise to post more on NYC and Chicago, especially after I get the photos downloaded. Hugs from the Windy City to you from me!

where did the last 20 years go?

This past weekend was the dreaded (by me) 20th class reunion from Berkeley High School. That's right. Class of '89.

Jimmy and I missed the 10th reunion because we were in Guadalajara at the time and didn't have money just to fly home for the weekend. So we promised ourselves that we wouldn't miss the 20th, no matter what.

No matter what.

Unless Uncle Sam intervened.

Which he did.

Which meant I had to attend the class reunion by myself. It's one thing if you've never gotten married or you're happily divorced and you have to attend these functions on your own. But if you are happily married and have to attend the reunion from a high school from which you and your spouse graduated and the aforementioned spouse is missing... well it looks bad. I was already paranoid about how I looked with all these wrinkles (really laugh lines, but who can tell the difference except me), so to go solo was just embarrassing. I Skyped Jimmy earlier in the day on Friday and asked him if he thought I could get rid of some wrinkles between then and 7pm. He said I could but we couldn't afford what it would cost last-minute, so I had to go with wrinkles and graying hair - all without him.

I was originally going to boycott the whole thing because I wanted them to have it in July when Jimmy would be home but the people on the committee chose to have it in August. Which I guess is their prerogative, but whatever.

The festivities included a meet and greet at the Dock on Friday night, a family fun day on Saturday at Short Stay on the lake, the reunion dinner and dancing at the country club on Saturday night, and a worship service on Sunday morning. Until about Tuesday, I intended to attend the Saturday night function only.

And then I had a dream early in the week that I missed a lot of good stuff by not attending the meet and greet. I know. It's pathetic to dream about your class reunion. But that shows how pathetic my life is right now and I've been an insomniac since I started work last Monday, so quite frankly I was happy to be in a dream state, no matter what the dream.

After the dream, I talked to my posse to find out if any of them were going to the meet and greet. The Coxes were so I knew there would be people there I knew and recognized. Then on Thursday, our friend Dara connected via email and we decided to go together, which meant I had somebody to walk into the room with, which is a big thing for me. You know that instant when you walk in and you don't know if/when you're going to see a familiar face? I hate that instant. So the two of us braved the instant together and recognized a few people, but really questioned who the majority of the people were and if they were even in our class because their names didn't ring any bells. A lot of those folks have either improved dramatically or declined dramatically; shockingly nobody looks the same as they did 20 years ago.

As planned, Mac and I skipped the Short Stay event. The last time I heard about Short Stay was a year or two ago when a man got his arm bitten off by an alligator there. That made the rounds all the way down in Brazil. No need to tempt fate with alligators or quite frankly see anybody or be seen by anybody from my class in a bathing suit.

The next event was the dinner and dancing on Saturday night. I went with the Coxes after which we met the Ackers at the event. I had a GREAT time and just wish Jimmy had been there because he would have loved catching up with all those people. I recognized a few more people than the night before but gosh, it was hard for a couple reasons. One was because they all looked different. And secondly, the sweat was dripping in my eyes and causing me not to see so well. It was about 110 degrees in the country club. Honestly, if I were a July bride and had my reception there, I would demand a refund because of the extreme discomfort caused by their poor air conditioning system. It was H-O-T but such good fun.














And finally Mac and I went with niece Hayley (who was with us for the weekend along with baby Blair) to the church service which was led by members of our class who went into the ministry. It was a lovely ending to a great weekend and - not surprisingly - not nearly as well-attended as the party events.

So as our alma mater starts out, "Here’s to thee, our alma mater, dear old Berkeley High, ever shall we cling together as the years go by." I can't wait for the next reunion. Maybe I can even bring Jimmy next time.

the Susan diet

Remember when The Jared Diet was all the rage at Subway?

Well I've decided that I'd like to start The Susan Diet that would involve eating a reasonable portion of nachos at least once a day everyday. Would I lose weight by some mysterious quirk of my stomach quickly metabolizing all that yummy, gooeyness of melted cheese and chicken and tomatoes and guacamole and beans and those oh-so-delicious crunchy tortilla chips?

the best friends in the world

Today I invited some friends over for a coffee so I could celebrate my good fortune in meeting them during our time in Sao Paulo. I know some of you think this about yourselves, but it's true for me: I really and truly have the best and nicest friends in the world (and I'm talking about the ones here in Sao Paulo right now but the ones elsewhere are included also among the best and nicest!).

Living in Sao Paulo has been great on a number of different levels but one of the things that has been most rewarding for me is the people we've had the oppotunity to meet. At a lot of posts, you're stuck in the rut of just hanging out with other diplomat types and while that's good, being in a huge international city allows you, among other things, to meet people who live outside the consulate or embassy fish bowl and that is GREAT.

I've been so blessed by these incredible women that I've come to know through the diplomatic circle, church, the complex where we live, Mac's school, Mac's swim class, Bible study, etc. These women are PHENOMENAL for a variety of reasons, and my life is forever enriched from having known them here.

When everybody left and the dishes were cleaned and the housekeeper had taken Mac to the park for a few minutes and the apartment was quiet, I sat down on the floor to open the gifts that these dear people brought today. I read their cards and I wept for everything that I feel I'm losing by leaving here. I know good friendships stand the test of time and distance, but I am surely going to miss the close contact with these girls. Did I mention they are phenomenal women? They are beautiful and giving and compassionate, they are strong women of faith, they lead by example, they love their husbands and their children, and when they say call me if you need anything in these next few weeks, I know I can call and they will come. It has been my greatest pleasure here to be allowed into their circle. Now I just wish I could move the circle with me to South Carolina.