Erev Pesach, 5771.
Pesach in Peace Corps is always a little weird. I’m not really wandering or in exile. Nor am I exactly home. This year I’m the quasi-wandering Jew!
I could write some long expository post on the nature of exile and diaspora, being as I am in a nation that (for better or worse–itself a contentious issue) considers itself a part of the African Diaspora.
Nah!
Instead I’m going to be pithy and offer a deep thought from the bush: given that my phone here is one of the most popular models sold throughout the tropics (Sub-Saharan Africa too, not just the Caribbean), why oh why does the auto-text dictionary recognize the word “igloo” but not the word “mango”?
Speaking of which…it is mango season! 100j bought a bag of a half-dozen No.11′s. My market lady gave me another one because she loves me. Also, bless their hearts, the PCMO’s sent me not one but TWO dispensers of dental floss! I feel so privileged. And so indecisive! I now have the choice between waxed and unwaxed floss and I find almost nothing more paralyzing than menial choices between essentially fungible products–you should see me trying to buy orange juice in the US. I’m such a wreck that I usually ask a “sensible mom” type to help me out.
And while I’m waxing philosophical on the topic of floss (heeee heeeeee!) what does one call a single retail unit of floss? A spool? A box? A dispenser? Spool seems to work, but the spool is inside the dispenser, and the dispenser is necessary to cut the floss into reasonable lengths. But if you say “dispenser” it seems to imply some fancy, faux-marble aftermarket thing from Brookstone or a Skymall catalog. This is something to ponder. This is, after all, a night for asking questions.
Chag Sameach, everyone!
