Another short story about the Foreign Service life...

Before I run off again for another hectic day with my sister in Luxembourg, I am going to post this little story, again about being in the Foreign Service... This was in Madagascar and I am not even sure if I had fun or not.  Anyway, here it is. 
Forty years in the Foreign Service, and I swore that I would never, never, participate in any more of the women gatherings, women functions, or representing women of the Mission, etc.  And there I was, representing USAID again for two tiring weeks;  hopefully for the last time.  I couldn’t believe that I actually participated in creating the floral arrangement with a group of Malagasy women from the “Association Accueil Madagascar.”  For some strange reason, the younger women gathering around those flowers, started to talk about their lives, about my life, and their belief  that I was crazy, and I am not sure why!   Crazy in a good sense of the word, so they’ve said.  Well, I will take that as a compliment when younger women want to be like you.  I don’t remember wanting to be like anybody in my life, not even my grandmother.  Come to think of it, I didn’t have a role model growing up.  It was hard enough learning to be me, let alone trying to copy a role model, LOL... 
In a way, there is a benefit in growing older.  You live more than a half century, and you know that the other half is going to go as fast as a toilet paper roll, so you don’t want to waste it.  Time is too precious to be dwelling on unimportant matters.  You want to live the second half of the century “better” than the first half, or should I say “not too much responsibility, and just go wherever the wind is taking me,” type of attitude, and I am trying.
I am in Luxembourg, a week from now I am going to be in Paris.  I will be home at the end of April for how long, I am not sure.  In October, I am sure I am going to be back in Paris for the yearly Mauritanian Oasis Reunion, and so on.  Next year??? I will think about it tomorrow!!!!
Barnett wrote:  Funny thing about growing older; different people sometimes see it in different ways.  There’s my wife and her sister, off in Luxembourg; and here I am, back home; going to training sessions most days this week; sometimes learning, and sometimes helping teach the course I pushed them to restart after three years without; but people needed the training.   When not in training, I am back in the Reagan Building, supporting new Executive Officers (EXOs) as they move around the world, hopefully to do their jobs well.  Me?  I must admit that I am getting used to being the stay-at-home spouse, after all those years leaving Laure behind to go off to war zones; from Southeast Asia to Iraq, and then Afghanistan again.  Now, until they tell me to stop, I’ll do what I’m doing; and spend my weekends bowling with my daughter.  Not quite three quarters of a century, though I don’t truly feel that old.  Oh yeah, I had a good weekend tournament.  Apparently, at least until  others bowl next week in other parts of Virginia, it appears as if I am the number three bowler (counting the handicap) in Virginia.  I think, when my wife comes home, I’ll buy her a ball and shoes.  Who knows?  She may stick around a bit, and go bowling with me after she finishes working on the Farmville, Frontierville, Cityville, or the island cities she builds for both of us.

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