Bad Things Come in Threes

We got home Friday afternoon, and I got:
1) a 100-degree fever
2) my period
3) diarrhea

I’m finally crawling out of bed to catch up with the world. What’s up with you?

cd23? When did that happen??

Wow, I could even poas tomorrow. BUT – don’t have any of those with me, and won’t. Am not feeling positive about the prospects anyway. What with Uterninus’ Law and all, conceiving the day before mother’s day would be just too “perfect” to be true. Anyway, what with the incredibly squeaky bed in my parent’s house where sound carries incredibly well (you can hear conversations from one end to the other quite clearly), the ambiance was not terribly conducive to the FDMOBMS (Forced Death March of Baby-Making Sex – I think I stole that one from Watson). Technically, it’s possible… by I’m not counting my eggs before they hatch.

I was thinking last night too about the stress on my body this month – not only the high-altitude travelling, but the rougher aspects of it – like an all-night bus trip on unpaved mountain roads. I slept maybe 20 minutes? The next morning though found us relaxing at some lovely under-visited hot springs next to a rushing rocky river, just idyllic. I fell asleep by the pool! Then Sunday – yesterday – we were at Machu Picchu: amazing. It was my fifth visit there, but only the second time climbing the higher peak of Huayna Picchu. Stunning!!! Definitely not for the faint-hearted. Very, very steep stone steps careening up the side of the mountain.

Today is our day off – it’s nice to have a break from our 12 students, although I’ve become quite fond of them for the most part. They’re good kids.

Today is also my dad’s birthday; I gave him hand-knit socks.

Further updates as I have Internet access!

Tagged!

Sara S-P tagged me to write a poem (I feel so honored)!

I am sunburned
from walking Inca trails
Full, from eating Andean potatoes.
I am in my mother country,
my mother´s mother´s country,
my mother´s mother´s mother´s country.
I am at the end of the line.

I see the rails curve around the mountain,
Empty train tracks veering out of sight.

Tiny Quechua children
watch me watching them.
Dark eyes under hat brims,
over sunburned cheeks.