Sylvia's Journal

Axel and I spent the entire morning at the orthopedic-industrial complex, most of it in the waiting room with all of 5 minutes, a record, with the surgeon himself. He showed us the pictures he took during the procedure, through the scope. The supra and infra spinatus were torn badly. The pictures show something that looks like nylon roping and enormous screws that the surgeon used to pull and coax the ligaments back to where they should have been attached to the bone. The surgeon is hopeful that I will get my full range of motion back. Given the damage this is either a miracle or unlikely. Time will tell.

The rest of the afternoon I tried to focus on work and my departure to Kabul, with the date now set for 9/9/(0)9 , With all these nines it must be an auspicious day. According to some random numerology website, the number nine is about  “a shift from the material to the spiritual. Selfless service and universal ideas become paramount. […] the Nine closes the cycle by returning its love and compassion to higher ideals.” I think that fits nicely with my desire to work in Afghanistan.

But before my departure to Kabul there will be another departure next Sunday for a quick assignment in Ghana, to hand over senior leadership development work to my colleague Diane. I finally got the ticket and it looks like everything is all set to go. For our administrative staff it has been a month-long obstacle course to pull this off and I am grateful for their perseverance and good humor.

In the evening we celebarted Sita and Jim’s engagement  with three sets of parents and two sets of siblings. We were able to seat everyone around the large dining room table. Axel toasted the young couple and some of us got a little teary. As the mother of the bride this is all new territory for me and I spent considerable energy getting the dinner just right, including, as Sita noticed, preparing appetizers with all the things she hates: anchovies, olives, mushrooms and shrimp. I  had to ask myself what that was all about; some sort of unconscious boycot?

Tessa had made the cutest place setting cards and Reinout folded the napkins (where did he learn that?) that I thought should have been ironed but Sita told me not to bother. The wineglasses, table cloth and silverware did not match (who now has 12 of everything?) and everyone brought a few dishes. The arrangement and informality of it all is simply a taste of the what’s to come with the wedding, of the do-it-yourself variety. We will have little to do with the preparations, a little hard from our base in Kabul – but we will be there when it is all organized, and probably write a few checks.

Just when our party was breaking up Reinout and Maurits returned from their boat trip in the Essex waters, windblown faces, bronzed and happy as two little clams. Maurits had captained the boat at dazzling speed in between the red and green lights that showed the way back to the harbor after the sunlight had gone; obviously much more fun than an engagement party with adults he didn’t know. He’s also happy because he has a new iPod that keeps him busy when he is not boating, swimming or throwing sticks to the dog.