Like little red riding hood.

Yesterday was the 44th reunion of the 1962 Peace Corps Volunteers. It was an interesting afternoon in Belize City with the very first PCVs in Belize. We shared stories and saw pictures. They talked of keeping all sorts fo crazy pets (a crocodile in their bathtub), driving baby blue jeeps, and having only letters to connect with their loved ones back home.
On my ride back home from the City, after chatting with the man next to me, he said, "If you were my daughter, I'd be worried about you going off on your own. You're like little red riding hood, and there's a whole lotta wolves out there..." He paid for my bus ticket.

Earlier this week... we went fishing off a bridge one night. Host family siblings and friends. They pulled out a bag of tangled fishing line, raw chicken chunks, and rusty, bent hooks. We stared down at the black water after casting our slimy pink wads, trying to figure out if the bait had even gone in. After lots of waiting and listening to music from a cell phone and recasting, I got my first bite! (never fished before) It got away with the bait. Even though we were eaten alive by the mosquitoes, it was a good night. We looked good in our fishing hats.
Sometimes you need a release. Especially when lesson planning for only three days of the week somehow turns into this neverending-losing-sleep process. Running a remedial program to children whose language skills are strongly influenced by Spanish and Creole changes everything. Working in a village school with far fewer teaching materials than anywhere I've taught before changes everything. I'm making most of my materials and trying any strategies that might work here. I evaluate things a lot at the end of the day. I get out of bed at night to write down new ideas. These days it feels as though my work has become my life.