Rulers

There are ways to measure the passing of days gone by with units not found on calendars or cell phone clocks.  I've been known to measure time in how long it takes to grow out my toenail polish.  For instance, I might remind myself that by the week ONLY my big toe still has color, it might be time to forget about the boy or the vacation or the special event that may have prompted the pedicure in the first place.  There is just something comforting about holding onto a great experience and knowing it was just a toenail in time away.  But when my best friend has heckled me enough, I sadly sigh into the bathroom cupboard, pull out the acetone, and say goodbye to THAT life experience.

Over here I've started working 6 days a week, soon to be 7.  The opening ceremony for the clinic is next week, and apparently I am the star.  The biggest news station in Vietnam will be there.  I'm not really sure how to handle the responsibility or the spotlight, but when unsure, fake it til you make it.  I certainly don't feel like anything I'm doing is all that difficult; it's just a lot of hard work, plugging along day after day.  Especially for a princess like me who has, in the past, convinced herself that she NEEDS (a lot of) downtime.

You don't have the luxury to be picky over here.  If a local friend drags you to a street stand serving only one dish, you eat it.  You pick up those dirty chopsticks washed haphazardly in cold water sans soap, sitting there on that table two feet off the ground.  You squat down on a plastic blue stool one foot off the ground.  And you even feel like you went the extra mile to squeeze some lime juice on the utensils and wipe them off vigorously with a napkin.  I laugh every time I sit at these mini kiddie tables.  This is the most natural form of dining out, but I still always think of a movie called "Land of the Little People" which my mom taped for me on the VCR straight off the TV without pushing pause at the commercials, somewhere around 1988.  Seriously, just imagine the table four year olds have to sit at on Thanksgiving, only a lot dirtier.  You get used to these things.  You take what you get, sometimes because it is the only Vietnamese word you can remember.  I'm proud enough just to be able to say pho ga (chicken pho) when I can't read a word on the menu.  As I'm writing this, my neighbor is blasting some awful Vietnamese music like it's House Party 2, and what am I gonna do, knock on his door and complain?  That option just isn't logical.

My very first blog had something to do with having too many choices, and I have to say I feel a sense of serenity at not having to decide all the time.  There is freedom in captivity!  But it's also fun to slowly push out; to learn the word you need to get what you want next time; to recognize streets and call out cab drivers.

I've almost gone through a tube of toothpaste.  I only have four tubes of Crest left.  My Aveda shampoo is almost gone.  I gage my supplies on a daily basis and contemplate mixing it up with some Vietnamese brands, because I'm not ready to be left alone in this country without my home comforts.  I will lose those parts of me in stages, and I will suffer when I squeeze out the last drops.  Another chapter over.