Grilled Cheesus. Or, Bacon is God's way of saying "I love you, Liz"

I don't really have anything specific to talk about, but I'm sitting in Sankofa Cafe with Jacque & Rachel using fast internet (hi Rachel's mom!), so I feel like I should take advantage of it and post something. Maybe even a picture or two. I just ordered a grilled cheese sandwich with bacon and tomatoes, and received my large chocolate milkshake that is made from real ice cream. Two little pieces of heaven. It's easy to forget where I am in the world when I'm here; it's our once or twice a month sanctuary. We're currently discussing supermarkets. Mmmmm Publix.

The mouse came back last night. I was sitting on my couch with my feet propped up looking through pictures of Florida on my computer when a mouse ran through my living room like it belonged there. It scurried under my desk/kitchen counter and squeaked good evening to me. I sat there, dumbfounded, for a second or two before deciding there was no way I'd be getting off my couch any time soon. Except I live in Africa and I have to be brave about things like mice and bugs and the occasional bat, so I mustered up some courage and was about to get up to throw a shoe or yell at it, or something else brave... when the power went out and I was plunged into darkness. The glow of my computer screen attracted all the flying things that had been fluttering around my lightbulb, and a moth smacked into my face three times before I screamed and decided to call it quits for the night. I closed everything up and stumbled into my room, under the safety of my mosquito net and called my mom, because I thought she'd find my tale amusing. Mouse: 2, Liz: 0.

I've taught a handful of times now, always to a crowd of faces more than 150 in number. I know I wrote about this already, but I find it unbelievably interesting (read: frustrating) that while the students know what constitutes good teaching methods, they refuse to participate in them when I, as the teacher, try to have them work in groups, share ideas, or anything else that would deviate from straight lecture. Actions speak louder than words, people.

The three other women I work with are becoming more and more like surrogate aunts or something who look out for me and I love it. They always ask about my house, say they need to come check it out to make sure it's up to their standards, tell me to call them if anyone is bothering me, and have recently decided that I'm to marry one of their sons and stay forever. (Wait, maybe I don't love that last part.) I tell them that I will miss my family too much, my dog, my friends. They just laugh and say I can have them all visit. True, but no, sorry ladies.

So no pictures, internet wasn't as fast as I thought, but the grilled cheese and the milkshake were delicious. Love & miss you.