I’m from Texas. From Irving/Dallas, to be more precise. So I’m a Dallasite. We folks from North Texas have our own peculiarities. For instance, Dallas drivers are among the worst on the planet. I was born here; I can say that. We see a cloud, we hit the brakes. Come on, Dallasites, you know it’s true. We also have some odd phrases. “More than you can shake a stick at.” OK, aside from the preposition improperly placed at the end of that sentence, WHAT does that mean? Who would want to shake a stick at anything?! What’s that about?   “At the market we saw more peaches than you can shake a stick at.” “ I have more hats than you can shake a stick at” . . . and they’re all coming with me to Burkina.

Ask anyone: vanity is not a vice I possess . . . regardless of all my flat iron talk, and despite the fact that I’m bringing more hats than you can shake a stick at. Let not my flippant blogging diminish the depth of my commitment and dedication to my host country. I’ll say it again: if you can’t maintain your sense of humor, you’ve probably volunteered for the wrong 27 months.

The packing is coming right along. I’m thrilled at how much I can efficiently pack into two bags. Almost everything on my packing list will come with me. Almost. I’ve even tossed in some food items. Sanding sugar is a must, as is crystalized ginger . . . you knew that, right? And whole spices: nutmeg, allspice . . . even a granite mortar and pestle. If nothing else, my country hosts and I can open a restaurant. How’s that for business development?! Of course, some items will remain in Dallas. First things to be removed and stay home? Quantities of clothing! Remember, I’m not vain, and a large wardrobe isn’t my thing.

It’s OK . . . you can admit it now that I’m leaving: How many of you have thought (or actually said to me), “You’re wearing that?!” We can only speculate.