Lovely Ladies (below). 
Spencer's Lover/Jenn wandering about Crissy Field (she's in the red jacket!). Wish I had captured the whole shadow of the tree...think it would have changed the shot (below)! 
(Above) At the Palace of Fine Arts in San Fran last weekend! In order of appearance: Lover #1/Justin's Wife/Heather, Lover #2/Christian's Wife/Jessi, Sheila/Enough Said, Aunt Pam/So Delightful, Lover #3/Spencer's Girlfriend/Jenn. 
Team meeting happened most mornings and every single night. This is a place where emotions settled and ideas grew. (above) 
In case you're wondering, yes, there are penguins in South Africa. 
This is the Children's Resource Center. When I arrived in Zambia, this wall was a blank slate with some pencil sketches. Our group painted by number!
Carol Zulu died last month after a fierce battle with HIV/AIDS. Carol lived her 15 years with a spiritual transparency that most humans hope even to have a glimpse of in their time. (above)
Anyhow, a well-meaning soul suggested to me recently that I might be much happier if I simply didn't blow-dry my hair. "I bet your hair would look great even if you didn't blow-dry it," she asserted. And so, Well-Meaning Soul, I give you Exhibit A:
And now, Exhibit B: post blow-drying. 
And so, I think I will continue my sinful blow-drying activities...
This is the second floor of a bungalow in the Tanzanian Jungle overlooking the ocean. The bed is the centerpiece of the whole structure. It nearly takes up the whole second floor if you count the massive mosquito net that covers it. The bedspread is a simple, suitable zebra-print! At the head of the bed is a window covered by a straw-thatched shutter. A thick rope-pulley opens the shutter from across the room with substantial muscular effort (its heavy!). A short stretch from the foot of the bed are double doors that open to reveal a hammock hanging on the balcony and a fresh ocean breeze.
This is a place that could make even the most stoic of realists feel a little dreamy. And the bed, in my opinion, is a bed made for lovers*. It is situated perfectly, and sends a clear message: people who are in love should lay down here. I got the message.
I spent the night on that bed with Heather. She is not my lover. She is master back-scratcher and wonderful friend, but definitely not a lover. It was a good night, I slept nicely (even though romantic ocean breezes can be quite cold in the end). I slept on my side of the bed, wrapped in my half of the zebra spread.
In the morning I sensed the bed's dissapointment. I had no remedy. I too was left wanting. So perhaps one day under different circumstances, I will return to that bed. I will sleep in it properly for it's sake, and for my own.
*For those of you that despise the term “lover”, you really must reconsider (and redirect) your hatred. Lover is a word that simply must be used (and abused!).*
