So I had this crazy dream yesterday...

They say that one main side effects of malaria medication is having vivid dreams. I didn't believe it, since I didn't start having dreams until about two weeks after taking it. I had this crazy dream yesterday...and wanted to document it's craziness before I forget.

The dream begins with me sitting in a coffee shop, leaving my bags at a table to first use the restroom. I return, and see two boys at one table and a co-ed group at another. The boys motion for me to join them, and I do, cautiously, because I have never seen them before. They offer me their energy drink, to take a sip, because they say I look tired. And I am indeed tired, but again, I don't know these boys, so I cautiously take a small sip. It tastes like nothing. But, after taking that initial sip I begin to feel weak. They urge me to take another sip but I refuse and start to get up from the table. As I do, I feel a sharp stinging on my leg, and look down to see that they have just injected some serum into my body. I can feel my body begin to get numb as I stumble out of the coffee shop, with my thoughts concerned only with escaping.

I run towards the docks, where people are many, with the intention of hiding amongst them. I think that i've managed to escape successfully, and begin to relax until a woman comes to me. She tries to persuade me to go with her onto a boat that is getting loaded. As I think about my response, out of the corner of my eye, I see a woman similar to the one standing before me, forcing two girls into the boat. I run. Fast.

Somehow I find myself on an empty, isolated pier. I take that moment to call a friend to come get me. He is far away, but he is coming. After about an hour of waiting, I call him again, and he tells me he has arrived. He tells me his location, but he is at the wrong spot. He is at the airport, not the bus terminal by the water...but he doesn't know where the bus terminal is. He doesn't know where I am, and there is no one around me to ask. I am too afraid to ask anyone, so I do nothing.

The next thing I know is that I am standing in front of an altar, waiting, I suppose, to get married. But I do not want to get married. I do not love this man. I do not even know this man!

I manage to escape, somehow, gathering my belongings, including some pairs of shoes, and some clothes.

And that concludes my dream. So like I said, I had this crazy dream yesterday...

marac or maber?

marac = bad

maber = good

these are two Acholi words that we use about 50 times in a day when we have to explain to women that their hats are bad....

anyway, we three intern girls decided to take a picture with 3 really marac hats that we found...we tried to keep straight faces, but clearly it didn't work. so, are you cut out for a productions assistant intern position? can YOU figure out what's wrong with these hats? check below for answers!

hat #1: too short

hat #2: overall design is too small

hat #3: cap stitch (bottom) is too tight

(thanks Hannah for editing that photo!)

smile cheap

anyone know what this might mean?

so, what do we think?

So we were feeling a little bored...and I needed a change of pace, so I decided to chop off my hair! Thanks Hannah for cutting it! So...yay or nay???

5207

last night i stayed three hours after work counting hats. if you remember, we have a shipment of some fourteen thousand hats that need to be in america, stat. working for krochetkids has taught me just how much work it takes getting all those hats from uganda to its final location. it's not exactly complicated, but it IS time consuming. i will never look at an imported product the same again! so here is a general run down of how our products go from being yarn to products to the stores:

1. every lady gets a list of expected hats to make each week
2. ladies make the hat, and put their hats in their basket for us to be checked
3. a looong line of about 50 baskets will begin to form throughout the duration of the week
4. bad hats are sent back to be corrected, good hats are sent to be "post-checked" for quality control
5. hats that pass the "post-check" are put in a box for tailors to sew outside labels on
6. labeled hats go to the "taggers and baggers," who put additional labels on (the ones you cut off after your purchase) and seal them in poly bags
7. hats get counted and recounted (and counted again...triple and then quadruple counted?)
8. hats get boxed and put onto the bus to go to kampala, then from there gets shipped to the US, Europe and/or Australia
9. hats that get shipped to our office in the US get checked again for quality control
10. hats end up in stores, people buy, and lives are changed!

SO. it's a long process. i didn't even involve how we get our yarn (more like it's cause i don't know how...somewhere in china....). so going back to my original paragraph...we stayed late after work yesterday counting hats.

2,000 style "5207" black and 1,600 style "5207" deep ocean, making a total of 3,600 hats, and that is only a small dent of the 14,000 that need to leave by tomorrow morning....

if you see our hats in the stores, know that each one of them handled with care and lots of work have been put in to get them to you!

the picture attached is a sea of hats from last night...the picture does no justice to the work we put in, but here it is anyway! sorry the picture is so dark, mind you, it was taken at 7:30 pm with minimal lighting!

rainy Sunday mornings

I woke up this morning to the sound of rain falling. Hard. Rain here is like a drug. You miss it when it's gone, and despise it when it's here.

Today, however, I have to admit, it was quite cathartic. I laid in my bed for a full 47 minutes, watching the darkening of the clouds overhead, the gush of water spewing out of the gutter, the gentle falling drops coming down the window pane. And then, as if God knew I couldn't take the rain anymore, the skies opened up to reveal the bluest of blues I've seen in a while. The sun took its rightful place in the sky, and with it, hints of the recent storm subsided.

Maybe, just maybe, that is what the disciples felt out at sea that fateful day, as they watched Jesus command the storms to cease its destruction.

It is really a beautiful thing.

As I conclude post, I Can Only Imagine begins playing through the cafe speakers...the chorus, in particular, stands out to me:

Surrounded by Your glory, what will my heart feel
Will I dance for you Jesus or in awe of you be still
Will I stand in your presence or to my knees will I fall
Will I sing hallelujah, will I be able to speak at all
I can only imagine