Even though the Foreign Service provides furnished living quarters to the majority of posts, some people bring furniture for a more personal touch. Many people choose to bring their beds of all sizes and personalities: king beds, day beds, sleep number beds, probably even beds made of space moon foam. Mark and I chose not to, instead relying on our 12+ year down comforter which we spiff up every few years with a new duvet from IKEA or Target. To me, it's an essential and perfect part of what makes me feel at home. The duvet has a perfect warmth to thickness ratio: thin enough for 98% humidity laden Recife or the parched 12% of Windhoek, (so long as you stuck one leg out) but warm enough for the blasted winters of Denver, DC, and Bucharest. We love our comforter like other people love their beds. Or bikes.
On this very fine and uneventful weekend, I decided to effectively burrow underneath my down comforter like a hibernating ferret to relieve some muscle aches I developed while fake hip hop dancing under the shade of our braai. I was jonesin' for some serious nap time. Instead, I found something hiding under the covers: my six year old reading a magazine and requesting that no one should bother him. He was reading: FP USA 2015/16. Say what? Yes people, he was reading the annual publication of the Federation of Petanque magazine. This year they've reached 2,000 members and they tout "It's fun! It's friendly! It's exciting!"
My husband is turning our kids into retired old men who wear white boat shoes and fedoras, brainwashing them in the ways of petanque. Mark had been dreaming of this moment, ever since we got a preview of our Windhoek home, well over a year ago. He did the research and chose his materials carefully- official regulation, unpainted steel balls, two sets of 3. Each set came with an etched design for quick differentiation on the court. After months of waiting his balls arrived, and Mark wasted no time in teaching the kids how to play. At first I was reluctant, not at all interested in standing in the sun and tossing balls around with the intent to land closest to the neon painted cochonnet (aka "the piglet"). But as Mark is thoughtful in so many things, he proved that the kids enjoyed playing- so much so, that my son was reading all about it in our bed under the favored blanket of all time. I can't really argue with that, so we are now a steel ball tossing kind of family. It's an odd kind of personal touch to our new home, but that's a Schlink for you.
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| Beer: non optional. |
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| Jim getting in on the action. |
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| Margo gaining two points. |
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| Balls. |
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