Sost is the word for three in Amharic. It is also the number of days we have left here. We have her visa, our flights are confirmed, and I have a master plan for packing. We’re pretty much ready to roll. We are so looking forward to being in our own space and watching Zinashi* destroy the house in ways we never dreamed possible. I have so much to say–so very, very much–but Ethiopia’s farewell gift to Jarod was a bout of food poisoning last night, and the tiny Queen of Sheba and I are at the Hilton all on our own. Which is to say that I am contorting myself in order to type while feeding my daughter a cookie and making sure she doesn’t spill her hot chocolate all over herself and the Hilton lobby bar. So far, we are successful, but I am not pushing my luck. I’m sure you won’t mind if I just leave you with a photo of Zinashi and me practicing being catalog models, and promise to be in touch on Tuesday. Here you go:
*This is what we usually call our lovely daughter. I sometimes work in the Nola part, but even she thinks her name is now Zinashi, or, as she pronounces it, Ginatchee. Either way, it suits her. We love our Zinashi Ginatchee perfect piece of Ethiopian pie.