Well, the big news from the Shack is that Laura ate too many
watermelon seeds, and it appears that she is quite knocked up. I warned
her about such risks, but she went on and carelessly ingested entire
watermelon slices without compunction nor a slobbery-spat seed. Damn
Jezebel! Actually, we are pretty excited about a shack-rat joining the
world. The due date is Oct. 31, which would be most excellent in that
the kid will be scared of his/her birthday, and we won't have to
celebrate it. Plus, there's bound to be a party somewhere--we'll fib
and say it's a B-day party. Boo!
In smaller news, I finally finished my doctorate in Biochemistry.
I'm working as a temporary postdoc in a different lab working on kidney
stone formation--definitely a change from lipids, but a good working
environment. Laura is frantically trying to finish her thesis before
she gives birth to a watermelon, so life's a bit stressful right now for
her. She's pretty determined to get it done, so I'm sure she will. I
will, however, be hanging out in the shack wearing leather armor in case
things get crazy.
I happened to be in Amsterdam when the terrorist attacks of Sept.
11th occurred; it was very strange to be far from home at a time like
that. It made me realize that I would not have wanted to be in the
Peace Corps at the time, because a week was long enough to be without
family and friends. I was definitely glad to come home to Laura. We've
done a bit of traveling lately, but not enough. We used some frequent
flyer miles to have a long weekend in Barbados. We went right after I
defended, so it was a nice time to sleep. There are claims that the
corral reefs are astounding--I must say that we all were quite spoiled
in Fiji. Other than that, it has been quite mellow. We see Nathan
Moore and his family periodically; we usually have grog, and Nathan will
find the guitar I had hidden away and he'll start singing "no no no,
don't pass me over..."
Well that's the news from Shack Walkertown. As always, a general
invite is in effect, and if you find yourselves near these parts, come
on out. We'll put on a kettle of grog.
Cheers,
Paul, Laura and the little She-He-It (Shit, for short)