Merry Christmas!

So far, this has been a terribly serious blog. Yet as the Christmas season approaches and I melt in the 90 degree heat of Dar es Salaam, I’m feeling the need to lighten things up a little. As adapted from a chain email from my big sister, see the following list of fun things to do in a store when Christmas shopping starts to drive you crazy…

  • Sneak lingerie into other people’s carts when they aren’t looking.
  • Set the alarm clocks in the housewares section to go off and intervals.
  • Dart around the store suspiciously while humming loudly the theme to Mission Impossible.
  • Hide in a clothing rack and when people browse through, yell “PICK ME! PICK ME!”
  • Go into a fitting room, shut the door, wait a while, and then yell, “Hey! There’s no toilet paper in here!”

Or, to avoid having to resort to these tactics at all, you could just go to Kiva.org and purchase a KIVA GIFT CERTIFICATE for your friends and loved ones, What a great way to show them you care by making them contribute to a great cause (and after they loan the money and it is repaid they can withdraw it from the system if they really want to…)! It’s truly the gift that keeps on giving… Happy holidays, folks. I miss everyone back home… Please send me updates, photos, stories, and love to keep me company in Dar es Salaam!

3 Comments Add yours

  1. Patty says:

    It has been cold and rainy here, but we miss you!

  2. Stephen Corey says:

    Full disclosure: (1) I am Rebecca’s father, and (2) I am a writer. So, the #1 me has naturally been following her blog for a complex of reasons, not the least of which is that each new entry Rebecca makes lets me know she is still doing okay, is still essentially safe–though I had to wonder some about the latter when I read the posting about her riding around late at night and alone in a cab. The #2 me reads Rebecca’s wonderful little essays with pleasure and a not insignificant amount of rather jealous awe; I’m jealous of her wonderful experiences, and I’m also jealous of her marvelous writing ability–which I know she picked up mostly on her own. Twenty-two years old and producing work that ought to be . . . that will, I believe . . . somewhere down the road inside the covers of a book. Bravo to you, my dear. Love, Dad.

  3. Joe T says:

    Merry Christmas! Wish I were there! Sounds like you are having a wonderful time.

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