Our ride...

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In the meantime...

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I have been chastised, a bit, for not posting during my holiday. To me, however, this rings a bit hollow given that I'm a very boring person on holiday and...well, let's be frank, no one wants boring. So, to justify why I haven't kept you updated let me fill you in on the past 69 days. 1) London. Debrief. Psychologist tries to figure out how anger makes me feel...ummm...more angry? 2) Florence. Pool. Wine. Nice! 3) London again. 4) DC. Humid. 5) Cape Cod. Lovely. 6) Missouri. Buy house across the street from my brother. 7) San Diego. Lovely. 8) Couer d'Alene, Idyho. Well, it's Idaho. 9) DC. For a day. 10) Missouri again. US Airways loses my luggage. Discover how completely inept and incompetent an airline can be. Close on house. Rent house. 11) DC. Humid. Seriously, bitterly hot and humid. 12) London. Hope you now feel filled in. More when I do something actually of interest to anyone other than my immediate family.
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An introduction to violence

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Life is full of ironies if you're stupid enough to go looking for them. Take last night for example. I leave for Sudan in three days. It isn't understatement to say that Sudan is awash in guns. And yet last night, after having lived (on and off) rather peaceably in Washington, DC for the past eight years, some friends and I got held up at gunpoint. The first thing that came to mind when the guy pulled out the gun and demanded money was how terribly inconvenient the timing was. I mean, c'mon, I don't have time to cancel and get new credit cards! My first thought was, "are you kidding me? I'm going to a place with 'real' guns and 'real' violence and here I am getting mugged on a quiet DC street? I have to get back to Baltimore to pack! I don't have time for this!" The next thing that sprung to mind was, "gosh, that's a really cool gun!" A glock, silver, the kind with the sliding top to load it. I know because while my friend...
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How to kill the Black Mamba

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Should you ever find yourself in the unfortunate position of needing to use the latrine in South Sudan at about 9.30 on a pitch-black evening and, upon crossing the compound, you shine your head torch to the right and find – approximately 12 inches from your bare, flip-flopped foot – the highly poisonous Black Mamba I will now give instructions on what to do. 1. Freeze and stare 2. Back away as quickly as possible out of striking distance while yelling: ‘Uhhh, snake! Quick! 3. Somebody! There’s a snake!’ 4. Keep your head torch on the Black Mamba cause if that thing stays on the loose you’ll never sleep soundly again. 5. Sudanese staff should come running. Note, that is it only the women because the men don’t hear the screams for help due to a football game on tele. 6. One, particularly noble Sudanese nurse dressed only in a towel and bathing cap, named Selina (always make sure you have her around!!) will grab a large stick and will start hitting the snake on any part...
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