It's good to laugh

The last two nights I've woken myself up from a deep sleep laughing. I feel sorry for John, but I obviously couldn't help it - my dreams were just very funny. One of them was about a childhood play that my brothers and sisters and I put on about Goldilocks and the Three Bears, and the other one was about negotiating about meat prices in the rural areas (and I was laughing because of how Zimbabwean I've become). Actually, there have been a few times lately where I've noticed how Zimbabwean I am - like when I spend a million dollars without thinking about it, or I join a queue without knowing what it's for (but it's got to be for something good - like bread or sugar - if people are lining up!) or I look at what other people are carrying (like eggs) and then think, "I wonder where she got those? I wonder if there are any left?"

It's good to laugh because there is simply too much to cry about it. Last week after church a young man came up to John and asked who he was. John said his name, and then the man said, "oh good, I have something for you - from God." It was a fresh painting - very nouveau art with the whole paper being covered in dark green and brown. And it smelled like a toilet. The event was so random that I broke out into giggles, and could not even stop them to greet people properly. In Francistown I approached a security guard at the mall and asked where I could find the washroom. He was confused, so I said, "sorry, I mean the toilet" and his response was - "why do you want to wash in the toilet?" Crazy white people!

P.S. Happy Birthday to my Grandma - a courageous woman of prayer who has kind eyes and a wonderful laugh. We love you! xo