If you can't remember when you last washed your hair, what does it mean? Time to go home? Maybe. Maybe not.

I’ve got internet this morning. Right here in my hut in little Pô. This, after weeks of just a little bit of internet. What does that mean? Shouldn’t it be the same as You can’t get a little bit pregnant? Either you’ve got internet, or you don’t. Well, not here in Pô. I’ve been able to log-on to see that I’ve got eMail, but I don’t have enough internet to open and read an eMail. I can log on to a blog, but cannot post. And with so much to say.

I’m leaving in about four hours for the bus to Ouaga. Going to Saponé to work Stage. The new PC trainees arrived last week, and I’m off to help them become good little volunteers . . . just like me. Right. What does that mean?

It’s supposedly an honor to work stage. An honor? What does that mean? It doesn’t feel like an honor. It feels like I’ve got to leave the hut, then leave the courtyard, then get to the gare, then find a taxi in Ouaga, go to a grocer, spend the night at the Transit House, get on the PC bus tomorrow, find a bed in Saponé, and dress and act appropriately for a week. A week! Lucky me (I’m so honored) . . . and I get to repeat this for a few weeks in November.

So school has begun and Martin and Louis are absent from the courtyard most afternoons. What does that mean? It means that I miss Martin. Martin has borrowed my Dutch oven and thermometer so that he can make a chocolate cake for his friend who lives in Ghana. It’s going to be a birthday present. I won’t be here to help because I’m honored by working stage. The fact that Martin can bake a cake by himself may be my greatest contribution as a PC volunteer. Maybe not, but it felt like it as I advised Martin to keep his dry team separate from his wet team. Thanks, Alton Brown . . . helping young bakers half-way across the globe.

Yaya’s wife is busy making tofu brochettes. What does this mean? It means that she performs the daily routine of making tofu, cutting the tofu into cubes, skewering them with veggies, and selling them from her courtyard. Silly me. I envisioned Satia walking around the marché selling kebabs from a container atop her head. Nope. The world comes to her. In fact, orders are placed the day before, and Satia has the orders ready to go when the clients arrive at her home. She’s brilliant. This is my kind of work – stay at home and the world comes to you. In truth, this may be my greatest contribution as a PCV. Satia is making money and my village is getting protein at half the cost of meat.

School has started, right along with mini hot season. What does that mean? It doesn't mean that it's just a tad hot. It means that an average afternoon high is 106, which is entirely too hot for me to even remotely consider biking to lycée to begin a business club. I need a Plan B. The world needs to come to me. I’m ready for business club, but this year I think I’ll hold sessions in my courtyard.

I have a bug and mouse issue. What does this mean? It means that the 20-plus members of the bike tour left food in my house (unbeknownst to me) after we all left Pô to participate in the PC’s 50th anniversary fair in Ouagadougou. I took Yaya and my shea butter ladies to the fair. I got sick during the fair. That was weeks ago. Drank the water in Ouaga. Whoops. What does that mean? It means that my PC Medical Officer wasn’t happy. My little illness kept me in Ouaga for a week after the fair. What does that mean? It means that I didn’t get to return to Pô before I had to leave for a week of training on how to become a trainer. TOT - training of trainers . . . only in the Peace Corps. When I finally returned to Pô, I had mice and thousands of tiny roaches. No joke. One couldn’t sit in my salon without having to smash a dozen tiny roaches crawling all over you. There’s a nice image, right? And it’s all true.

If it’s done in one’s courtyard, is it considered holding court? Wasn't I going to bring protein to my village with eggs? Will the bugs be gone when I return from stage? We can only speculate.