the basil is wilting

the house is still quiet this morning, its early, even the dog is still asleep. she is curled up around my cobalt-blue gum boots. (the ones that i wear in the garden and were purchased in wobolunzi-town. the ones i intend to take back to the usa in a few months as a functional reminder.)

i managed to make coffee and consume the entire pot without waking a soul. except for my own, that is, jolted out of its peaceful slumber and launched into a thursday that i wish was a friday. or better yet a public holiday. perhaps i’ve awakened her too quickly or too much for just another mundane not quite end of the week-day.

looking out the window and listening to the pictures my waking synapses are firing, everything else stops and i think, “the basil is wilting. she needs water. and so do i.”

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c25k catch-up post

happy (late) solstice!

which i suppose also means “happy summer!”

to kick off this summer season i’ve been working out erratically. a few weeks ago when in kampala i visited the fitness centre at the “mzungu mall” (garden city) and had a stellar work out involving a kick-butt treadmill workout where i ran 2 miles with no walking (it could have been 3, but  there were hills…and i’m still not used to hills! and this fancy machine changed the tension making just 0 incline running more difficult. it was awesome.) and 30 minutes on my beloved, the elliptical, where i listened to everything bon iver has ever sung and ran my little heart out.

one of the fantastic things about the fitness centre, besides their affordable visiting rate and beautiful views of the golf course, is the Best Shower In Uganda. not only was the water piping hot, but the shower heads are those awesome one-foot-across-its-raining-types. the 12,000 =/ was worth just this portion of my morning, hands down.

i digress.

since then i haven’t run. HOWEVER. i have been for several ~6k Very Brisk walks. during the most recent one i managed to sneak in probably about 1.5k of constant running. i had the dog with me, which complicated things and was also carrying my camera so that was adventurous of me.

while the long brisk walks make my body happy and i’m sure healthy, i can tell that i haven’t run in a while. never fear, i am Very Determined to complete the c25k challenge and still intend on eventually working on the 8k and then 10k challenges. i’m hooked.

yoga is still a constant presence, and now there are 3 of us in the kotido house so its almost like a small class–delight!

 

dear kinkos, i miss you

yesterday morning our secretary at the diocese asked me to help him out: he needed a memo written for the d.s. that very day. he wasn’t feeling well and needed to go home and rest rather than mess with turning on the computer, writing the memo and printing it.

“gosh.” you’re probably saying to yourself…”that doesn’t sound like such a big task.” and in your situation it may not be something that takes two days. but here in kotido a task like this can, and did, take two full days to iron out.

i had sticky note with minimal information and a vague notion* of how to piece together a memo.

the actual typing of the memo did not take very long. well the basic typing of the actual memo did not take very long. i did have to wait a few hours (yes, hours) to be able to ask for more information regarding this training the memo was announcing, only to learn that the person i asked didn’t know anything more than i did. sigh.

so after fluffing up the memo so it didn’t look so anemic/starved i lugged my faithful iBook G4 (faye) into the secretary’s office to print.

there are two printers in the office and i knew that only one of them was compatible with my computer. still wishfully thinking that this task wasn’t going to take too much time i plugged the printer cord into my computer–messed with the mess of cords, clicked three power strips one voltage correcter, one wall switch and one printer “on”.

my computer was recognizing the printer so i mashed the “print” button and hoped for the best. however. i’d forgotten to put paper in the printer. argh.

find paper.
put in printer.
mash “print”

there is no toner. of course.
argh.

unplug printer number one, plug in printer number two (this involved moving the laptop as the cord was supershort), turn on printer number two, see that computer is recongenizing printer. mash “print”.

nothing.
fiddle with printer.
nothing.

fiddle with computer.
nothing.

ARGH.

day two: the secretary has heard of this trouble so he instructs the cleaning lady to find the software for the second printer so i can install and print at my leisure. a lovely thought, no?

she gives me the software and i try to install it only to discover: this printer software only works with frapping windows vista. ARGH!

this information is relayed to the secretary who then drags himself to the office to tell me the password for his computer.

i go through the rigmarole of turning everything on, typing the password correctly on a totally wonked out keyboard and mashing “print”. again to realize NO PAPER.

put paper in printer.
mash “print”.
MAGIC! a printed memo pops out of the printer!
the toner level is complete-for-crap but its printed and i was finally able to hand a memo over to the d.s. over 24 hours later. sigh.

*way back in high school i had to take typing class (i already knew how to type rather well (thanks mom!(and mavis beacon!)). this typing class wouldn’t have been quite so…painful had we not been using typewriter curriculum from the 1950’s on computers. in said high school silly typing class we learned how to format a good ‘ole 1950’s style memo. and lookey! that’s how we communicate here in the diocese! 1950’s style memos…

poetry: 2

the smell of dried fish is a pungent and undeniable land-mark– 
hold your breath, keep walking straight and you might find fruit.

unripe and stringy mangos,

a small pineapple,

face-pinching-sour yellow passion fruits.

but today there is no fruit,

tonight i will dream of pink lady apples
and white peaches.

poetry: 1

over ripe matooke spills out into the street

smelling sweet and fermented,

as mama turns around to take stock of her screaming child,

wailing for fear of the back-firing boda–

for fear of the pale and unfamiliar face


for fear of all of the unknowns in the world that tend to make children wail.