We're packing now. No. I packed a few days ago. It's not as though I'll need the same clothes for the winter in the US as I do for the summer in the subtropics. My heavy coat had a thick layer of dust on it.
I've packed. Manboy should be packing. Andrew is packed. So the average is that we're packing. I've heard that my boys are totally feral with the farm pack and are having a blast (this is why I don't worry–they won't miss me). I'm happy for them. I imagine Omo in dirt go-go boots.
I was visited by Tamale, too. My father-in-law captured her perfectly in an oil pastel drawing. He even got her mouth crust:
Compare. See the brown manky, crusty ex-breath?