Queen for a Day
Prom queen, that is, and not myself, but our January birthday girl, Sarah. We rang in her ??th (top secret) with a tiara, some butterfly wings, an enormous red velvet cake, and a 360 degree view of Kampala. That's right. Kampala has a revolving restaurant. Unfortunately, I sat on the wrong side of the table, and had only the panoramic view of the bar and the bathroom before me, rather than the city skyline. We dressed to the nines, which does, in this case, involve bubblegum pink Ugandan bridesmaid dresses and Owino-found bow ties. Our cocktail hour was followed by our candlelit, rose petal dinner, dancing, and a late night dip in the Golf Course pool. Happy belated birthday, Madame CEO! 
Another One Bites the Dust
Some may argue that this one doesn’t belong in a celebratory category, but I will maintain that Lance’s departure provided a weekend-long excuse for revelry and really amazing desserts. Plus, we got all of his hand-me-downs. We all spent some time in the stages of loss, true (I turned on the silent treatment for at least an hour), but were quick to formulate a list of Reasons Why We Won’t Miss Lance, which helped to ease the feelings of abandonment. We have already begun actively recruiting for his replacement. It has admittedly been difficult to find someone that’ll make us breakfast burritos. 
Kampala Victory
After a year-long battle between Chris and myself over who would make it to the other person’s country first – the mountains, vineyards, beaches and exquisite beauty of Cape Town versus the burning garbage and belharzia of Uganda, burning garbage and belharzia won! Granted, it was only because he had a conference here, but I’m still taking this as a victory. In the hopes that their girlfriends never read this, here’s a bit of a blackmail picture of ckbarks and some other members of the Grassroots Soccer crew at National Theater stocking up on Valentine’s Day presents. When asked for gift recommendations, I mentioned my fondness of beaded necklaces, kikoi cloth, and sandals. All three of them walked into the first stall and promptly purchased beaded necklaces, kikoi cloth, and sandals. Oh, men.
After a year-long battle between Chris and myself over who would make it to the other person’s country first – the mountains, vineyards, beaches and exquisite beauty of Cape Town versus the burning garbage and belharzia of Uganda, burning garbage and belharzia won! Granted, it was only because he had a conference here, but I’m still taking this as a victory. In the hopes that their girlfriends never read this, here’s a bit of a blackmail picture of ckbarks and some other members of the Grassroots Soccer crew at National Theater stocking up on Valentine’s Day presents. When asked for gift recommendations, I mentioned my fondness of beaded necklaces, kikoi cloth, and sandals. All three of them walked into the first stall and promptly purchased beaded necklaces, kikoi cloth, and sandals. Oh, men.
Love Fest
Which brings me to Love Fest. The singulars (and a couple plurals) rang in Valentine’s Day with a backyard BBQ at Nancy's, complete with a pink frosted heart cake and sugar conversation cookies. My Valentine, was, of course, Meredith.
Which brings me to Love Fest. The singulars (and a couple plurals) rang in Valentine’s Day with a backyard BBQ at Nancy's, complete with a pink frosted heart cake and sugar conversation cookies. My Valentine, was, of course, Meredith.
Alternative Valentine’s were encouraged.
The Uganda OpenThat's right. Valentine's weekend also marked the start of the qualifiers for the (I have no idea if it's annual) Uganda Open Tennis Tournament. After Dan beat his Saturday opponent, a few of us went to cheer him on on Sunday.
Highlights: Every once in awhile, the ball boy would disappear and they'd have to dodge the balls scattered about the court. The ref was also much more interested in the presence of three mzungu ladies than he was in the match, so Dan had to correct him on the score every now and again.
Dan won this match, too, but had to go to South Africa for a training, so the guy with the lobs got to advance.
It was another one of those events that drew a large crowd.
We're so Irish
As the loyal friends-of-a-couple-Irish-people that we are, we celebrated St. Patrick's Day not once, but twice, first Friday night at Bubbles (the Irish pub), and again Saturday night at the Irish Ball, hosted by the Irish Embassy at the Sheraton. Formal attire at the latter was required, to the point that a couple folks in jeans were turned away. The Guinness was flowing and the step dance moves were in full force. Ian won a round-trip ticket to Dublin in the raffle, so now we're all trying to plot a family trip to Ireland. I also learned a very important lesson about myself that night.
As the loyal friends-of-a-couple-Irish-people that we are, we celebrated St. Patrick's Day not once, but twice, first Friday night at Bubbles (the Irish pub), and again Saturday night at the Irish Ball, hosted by the Irish Embassy at the Sheraton. Formal attire at the latter was required, to the point that a couple folks in jeans were turned away. The Guinness was flowing and the step dance moves were in full force. Ian won a round-trip ticket to Dublin in the raffle, so now we're all trying to plot a family trip to Ireland. I also learned a very important lesson about myself that night.
I am very, very short.
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1 comment:
How about posting a movie of the dancing? Do you have versions of "the sprinkler" or "the canopener" such as the kids over here are doing?
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