Allison Kaplan and others write about the art of thrifting under Savvy Shopper from this weekend's newspaper. A summary...It comes down to talent, not money.Start with consignment stores, thrift shopping can be overwhelming.Know what looks good on you!It's about knowing how to shop for interesting pieces and put them together in unexpected ways.Be prepared to look at 100 things before you find the right one.Hang on to things for up to 8 years; it may come back.Look for good fabric and choose pieces that are timeless.You can find many current trends at resale stores.By thrifting you can get higher quality for less.If you want to sell, try eBay. People in NY and L.A. will pay more than what we are used to here."Thrift shopping is the thrill of the hunt!"

Necklace: Unique Thrift $4

Bracelet: Sterling Silver, Unique Thrift $15

Belt and Skirt: See older post

Shoes: Steve Madden, Savers $7.99

Tip for purchasing jewelry: If you don't know already, always check the inside of the ring/bracelet, etc. for "095." This means it's sterling silver. And don't forget to make a bargain!

Banana Republic, Nu Look $7 "Classic" accessory, let it do the work paired with a simple white T and jeans!

Top: Express, All In Vogue $3

Cover-up: Nine West, Savers $14.99

Belt: The Limited, All In Vogue $12

Skirt: Gap, Clothes Mentor $9

Shoes: BCBG, TJMaxx $29.99

Top: Express, Plato's Closet $6

Belt: Coach, Nu Look $16

Earrings: Handmade from a relative

My mom's shoes from the past! "Made in Taiwan"

The soles need a little repair. These can also be found on "Vintage Bulletin!"

It may smell like moth balls or have buttons and doilies attached at the collar but that old sweatshirt you bought at your local thrift store, you know, is your favorite. Why? Because it was cheap and already worn in. You can buy the "sandblast vintage jean" at the mall but why not get the real thing from the 70s? I'm doing this challenge for many reasons but one being to show that it can be done. You will not find me in an old high school t-shirt and sweatpants, no way, this is for real (unless you catch me working out).

You will find my growing list of thrift stores to the right. You betcha, I consider "TJMaxx" to be thrift but for economical reasons my first choice will be consignment shops. Most days I will be wearing at least 1 piece from my past mall excursions but every day I will be wearing something purchased from a thrift store. I am a name-brand hunter when it comes to serious thrift shopping...

I hope to update every week (if anyone actually reads this)! Please let me know what you think because I'm no fashionista. And lastly, I do have a few rules of what to purchase: no thrift swimsuits or undergarments/bloomers.

For those of you who I haven't yet spoken to, you may not know that I'm currently in the states. I flew out of Zambia on the 8th of November -- left with sun beating on my back at a scorching 101 degrees and arrived with clouds over my head at a freezing 30 degrees. At that moment, I immediately missed Africa. During the process of paperwork and medical prior to my flight out, my mind was determined to get my knee fixed. For the past 6 months, I have been experiencing knee pain that began to hinder me from traveling throughout the village. As a volunteer in Zambia, we all know biking and hiking is our only source of transport; therefore, I had to end my service early. Peace Corps is quick at getting you out -- I made the call on a Tuesday and flew out that Saturday. I now begin my transition back to the American lifestyle. Days filled with the possibility of endless entertainment, family and friend visits, and drinkable water at my fingertips.

I will miss the Hankombo family. I think, will they miss me and my peculiar American ways? Will the children miss coloring on the days free of fieldwork and rain? Will the Headman, Goliath, miss discussing American politics over a mug of sweet beer? Will his two wives miss teaching me Tonga and laugh until we can no longer speak? Over the year and a half of living in Zambia, I have learned to become patient, adaptable, and free. I have come to appreciate our education, health care, and the ability to become anything we want -- no matter the age. I have learned how to express my body through dance and art -- no matter the talent. I have learned that God is everywhere -- no matter the religion or path we take to find Him. In the end, I have learned more from Zambians than they have learned from me. I came into Africa wanting to "make a difference" but the people, instead, made an impact on me.

I will miss the bland food, not for the taste but for the company.

I will miss the music, not for the lyrics (which I couldn't understand) but for the dancing crowd.

I will miss the transport, not the resulted numb rear but for the discussions along the way.

I will miss the teaching, not for the trek of getting there but for the eager eyes staring back at me.

I will miss the hand washing, not for the dry hands afterward but valuing a hard day's work.

I will miss the cooking, not for starting the fire but appreciating a meal with empty bellies around me.

I will miss the well, not for fetching water but for the singing women gathered around.

I will miss the cow's bell, not for the shit on the walking paths but for the comfort of life around me.

I will miss the village clinic, not for the screams from birthing pain but for the fervor to heal.

I will miss the drumming, not for loosing sleep at night but for beat that brings life.

Most of all, I will miss the people of Zambia: their selfless hearts, determination to develop (no matter the pace), and an extraordinary way of making you feel at home.

Picture: The littlest one of the Hankombo Family, Walker, playing with a balloon Austin brought.

So, we just received news that the Zambian President, Mwanawasa, has died in France. As far as I know, the Vice-President will take lead for the following three months until elections are held. I'll keep you posted if you are interested.

For more information, you can go to the following website: http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/africa/7570285.stm

I have been knocking my brain trying to summarize to you the past 3 1/2 months in Zambia, Tanzania, Botswana, and North America. First of all, what a relief (and honor) it is to know you all actually read this!

I want to start backwards by quickly debriefing you on my holiday in "The Land of Opportunity." I wish I could have visited with all of you but I forgot you have actual, paying jobs and work every day of the week! What a blessing it is to have you all in my life. Without getting cheesy, seriously, the late-night outings and early-morning coffee was just what I needed.

Starting with glamour, I forgot that celebrities rule over any important political individual. The JoliePitt twins have priority over ObamaMcCain. It's sad to admit that I can name all of the characters on "The Hills" (blow to Rolling Stone magazine) but not everyone on United States Congress. Don't even get me started on Miley Cyrus. It aches my heart that she deserves a spotlight on NBC Nightly News but not that the Zambian President suffered a stroke and may never lead again. Food is another topic, grilling delicious meats and cocktails led to an additional ten pounds on my tail end but let me tell you, every ounce was worth it! Sleeping on a plush mattress, waking up to Folgers and crackling bacon seemed all like a dream and an episode from "The Brady Bunch." My brother was also enjoying all of this, as he has recently been serving our country in the dry desert.

One thing that hasn't changed are the available choices at your local Hy-Vee (or Kroger's, Piggly-Wiggly, etc.). I found myself in a sweaty panic in the toothpaste aisle; do I want to whiten or go all herbal? Do I want spearmint or cool rush? Do I want my teeth squeaky-clean or gingivitis-free? A choice for every personality! Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed every minute of my mild anxiety attack up and down the aisles.

Before America, I had a daring visitor in June. Austin and I traveled to Tanzania and Zanzibar to snorkel, eat fresh fish, and be plain ol' tourists. We felt like real outsiders on our Botswana safari as we stayed in tents for one night in Chombe Park. Our only defense to the "residents" was a blazing fire. We ended these adventures in Njola Mwanza (my humble abode) and topped it off with a bout of malaria. A souvenir that keeps on giving... And giving...

I'm now back in the village, trying to adapt to the brazier lifestyle again. I have one year left as a Peace Corps Volunteer and am truly looking forward to it. I want to thank all of you for your genuine interest in Africa and keeping me afloat!

Picture: Austin on our flight to Minneapolis.

Mwabuka! (Morning!) I'm just letting you know that I updated photos. "Pictures say more than words" truly applies to Zambia.

Also, I would like to especially thank you all for your prayers and support! I have received emails from people I have never met to packages from a former art teacher of mine. :) Your encouraging words keep my spirit lifted and remind me why I'm here... Thank you.

Picture: Chaali posing for the camera.

I realize I haven't mentioned AIDS in my recent blog entries. One reason being I want you to know that there is more to Africa than this epidemic. However, since AIDS is what brought me here, I feel a need to bring it up and share with you what I have seen and heard thus far. Not until now (8 months into my service) are people opening up to me. I get visitors on a daily basis, offering guavas and kittens. The villagers want to know why this white woman is living in poverty when she has everything back home. I explain to them I am here to help the HIV-negative keep their status, counsel the positive, and tell everyone back home what amazing people you are.

I have been avoiding the clinic lately. One being the obvious: rain. For most of December and January I wasn't able to get anywhere. Fortunately, I am now able to bike 7km to my clinic. Gee, how lucky am I being a healthy 23 year-old to pass an ill Zambian pedestrian on the way to the clinic... When I approached the "facility" the other morning, I searched for a tree to lock my bike. Zambians are quite inquisitive about the gears Trek provides. As I turned around, I was greeted by 50 pairs of eyes and frowned brows. I did my best to greet in Tonga and quickly ran inside. Anita, one of the trained nurses, greeted me as she provided vaccines to children under five. I observed until I felt my presence was not needed, so I moved on to the "sick ward". Mr. Mugoba and Nelson were writing prescriptions, taking temperatures, and testing for malaria. They have only found one malaria test to be positive in the past few weeks. What they may not know is that the materials they are using only test for two types of malaria when there are five. My visit involved asking questions between patients and observing. I was sitting directly across from the patient for the majority of the time. I found that confidentiality is a rarity.

Everyone was speaking Tonga around me but I didn't need to understand the language to know what was going on. A daughter and mother are both HIV-positive. They were at the clinic to pick up their regular ARVs. All I can do is stare and smile. I haven't seen these two women at any Positive Living meetings; I thought to encourage them to go but this was not the time nor place. As they were gathering their belongings, the mother lifted her head from her tired hands and said, "Hello Mutinta" in a voice I could barely hear. Not only did she know my Tonga name but said it with such simplicity; as if she had no care in the world. She left with a smile directed toward me. At that moment, I knew why I'm here. I may never see her again but to have witnessed her strength is enough to motivate me through the remainder of my service. Later, I found out she walked two hours to pick up her medication.

There are many Zambians like her. They know tomorrow AIDS may win the extensive battle but today is theirs. Today they are smiling.

Picture: Kids heading out to their family fields to work. Also used as a form of transport!

You know you’ve been in an African bush for too long when an insurance company commercial gives you chills up your spine. You’re simply moved by the message it has to deliver about securing you life… For those of you who don’t know, Southern Province has been hit hard with rains the past month. Most of the rural villages have been experiencing flooding, collapsed homes and pit latrines. I fear that this may be just the beginning. The “elderly” in Njola Mwanza have been reporting that they have never seen rain this heavy since 1977. The President has been visiting towns throughout Southern, promising aid to those suffering. He made this speech after his private helicopter landed in Monze.

Once more, this puts me in a complicated state to continue work as a Peace Corps Volunteer. I have been periodically traveling to and from town; doing my finest to stay dry and mold-free. Finding fresh vegetables is even a challenge. The tomatoes that I do find have bruises and may last for only one day. This goes to show that people residing in town greatly depend on the success of village gardens. Last week I found myself trekking through knee-deep water and feces to reach my hut. The worst part about it is that 2 months worth of plowing and planting maize is currently struggling to survive and feed thousands. This rain will not only increase starvation but cholera and malaria as well. On that note, you can only imagine walking over 7km to the clinic with a baby on your back and mud in your gum boots. I truly believe this hammering rainfall will teach Zambian villagers how to adapt if this is a preview of the future. Who knows, maybe Zambia will provide you with mustard and whole-wheat bread by 2015.

On a lighter note, I was able to skip the beginning of these grave rains during my holiday stay in Malawi. I spent about a week swimming in the notorious Lake Malawi throughout the day and consuming hefty amounts of fish at night. About ten PCVs stayed at Mayoka Lodge, located in Nkhata Bay. We all had a tranquil time before heading back to the realism Zambia seems to maintain. For a brief moment, I felt Minnesota with me by the sounds and smells a lake is able to hold. Sometimes you need a reminder of your place of origin and establishment; yet, Malawi did not supply mullets, microwavable dinners, or Egg Nog. Despite these noteworthy bits and pieces, Malawi did give me a bitter taste of what I’ve been missing the past 7 months: cold beer and a large body of water to play in. Compared to Zambia, Malawi enjoys hanging your life on the line and then pulling back while laughing in your face. I experienced this on a series of mini-buses to and from the capital, two theft attempts, and getting no sleep (that one I take responsibility for). Malawians possess a strong skill for crafts, such as wood-carving, paintings, and jewelry. What is made here might sell for half of what it would in the states and as an American traveler; you may receive a personal bonus. Other than transport and skill, Malawians also sound different. Their accent is a mixture of Brit and Aussie. For example, a “beach boy” may approach you with their traditional greeting, “What’s cookin’?” and display a handful of bracelets made out of a local seed. They get a kick out of asking tourists to teach them how to swim, although they could swim the width of the bay without effort. In addition, their names are also extraordinary. In fact, in one night I met Tom Cruise, Respect, Special, and Ricky Martin. As far as tourists are concerned, most are from South Africa or Denmark; however, I’m nearly convinced I saw a couple who looked like my parents from the ‘70s. There’s Malawi for you in a nutshell: delectable fish, beer-guzzling Danish folk, and a man named Happy Coconut.

'Tis the rainy season, loud and proud. I have discovered that this only makes my job more difficult due to overflowing "roads" and unfamiliar insects nestled in my snug bed. On the other hand, my Zambian neighbors are exuberant because their crops are sprouting faster than my brother back in 1996, thanks to government-funded fertilizer. In addition to being continually saturated, mosquitoes are in full swing searching for a host of Party Malaria. I was defeated before Halloween with symptoms similar to food poisoning. Thanks to your tax dollars and "Sex in the City" weekend viewing, my life was saved in Choma. Unfortunately, not all people in Zambia have this luxury. With drugs pumping through my body, I returned to Njola Mwanza for a few weeks until Lusaka. After a week of workshops and meals prepared by a team of chefs, Thanksgiving came and went. Just because we live in remote villages, doesn't mean we can't enjoy our traditional American holiday! A turkey, two ducks and chickens were slaughtered and perfectly cooked, joined by dressing, salads, sweet tea, and lemon bars (said with a Minnesotan accent).

After indulging in American food for almost two weeks straight, I'm back in my village feeling a bit remorseful given that most Zambian families don't have enough food on their plates. So, from then until now I have been seeking to stay dry and target-free of the mosquito military. Currently, I am working on a proposal for a chicken layer on behalf of a neighboring Women's Club. They are vivacious women, uncommonly motivated about this income-generating activity. In fact, my Headman already constructed the layer in between preparing his fields and caring for his [many] children. I am in a perpetual state of admiration for the people surviving in Zambia; this is no time for senseless complaining or blisters on your feet. Women are still working at 2100 hours, either washing dishes or attempting to treat their child's cough brought on by fieldwork.

As I sit on my cow-hide stool and write these words by candlelight, I can't help but think how I miss the simplicity of America. A Starbucks coffee there, a microwaved Hot Pocket here, dry and mud-free travel, a margarita accompanied by various Mexican dishes... Despite these cravings, I have thoroughly enjoyed making a fire during sunrise, biking through streams, line-drying my hand-washed clothes, and more importantly limitless conversation with Zambians. As the rains bring new life (and fresh mangoes), Zambians expand my perspective on the American lifestyle; for I will never take a Hot Pocket for granted. Picture: A girl enjoying a mango at Mwanza Basic School.

The things humans do for entertainment completely boggles my mind but also makes me giggle in embarrassment. (And here, in my personal blog, I can achieve the latter.) I can assure you my usual Monday mornings may seem strange to anyone in the stable-states but most Americans aren't isolated in a Zambian village; so, here it goes... I have learned to tackle any task with art and ease. I experiment making my morning oatmeal a thing to look forward to. I may add a mashed banana and brown sugar which seems normal but what about plucking a papaya from my front yard? This simple addition to my oatmeal aids in my next morning routine: dancing in my hut. I have learned that without a daily groove, my body is out of sync for the entire day. My host family of 20 Zambians now wake to Irma Thomas, "The Same Love That Made Me Laugh" or Justin Timberlake, "Sexy Back" blaring from their pasty neighbor. Of course I have my daily bouts of homesickness. This occurs when I catch a whiff of "Americanness" packed deep into my luggage. For example, I caught myself smelling a ball of hemp recently sent from America. I guess hemp holds scents of people and I found myself tearing up. Ridiculous! Even perfume or cologne advertisement samples have gained a new appreciation from me. It's true, Peace Corps Volunteer emotions are worse than a woman experiencing menopause.

As far as work, it's moving slowly but that, also, has gained an appreciation. I'm still learning and researching what the community needs. Mwanza Basic School is my second home, along with the local clinic. A teacher and I are going to start a Woman's Club where they can freely express their life complaints while weaving baskets or making jewelry to be sold in Monze. We are also working on a Girl's Club to boost self-esteem and decrease adolescent pregnancy; a growing problem in rural areas of Zambia. I now have a fenced-in garden located behind my hut. My plan is to grow tomatoes, cabbage, green peppers, and possibly watermelon. Of course, this depends on my drive for fetching water a few times a day before God graces us with rain! On that, a day at a time has built my patience and also bruised my toosh from transport.Quick Occurance: Discovered a spitting cobra in my pit latrine last night. Ba Goliath (host Dad) brought new meaning to the combination of a spear and headlamp. Picture: Waiting for a hitch on the Great North Road of Southern Province.

Between introductory meetings and integrating into my community, I have discovered creative ways to entertain myself. For example, Zambia is now approaching the hot season; therefore, wildlife in my hut seems to be in abundance. This includes but is not limited to: wall spiders, mosquitoes, rats, wasps, termites, ants, beetles, and the mother of 'em all, snakes. One, in particular, felt the need to welcome me in the middle of the night last Tuesday. I screamed like a little girl until my host-Dad, Goliath, came to my rescue. Before I knew it, the entire compound ripped apart my bedroom to find the black, slithery thing. Needless to say, I'm still alive but my nights have been a bit restless!

I'm still adjusting to cooking over a brazier. One can get pretty creative with a limited supply of spices. Zambians tend to add flavor through vegetable oil but I want you to recognize me when I return, so I've been trying to "downsize" my saladi intake. Even through cooking I have been able to incorporate the American culture by simply adding Dove chocolates (shout out to Dee) to their traditional fritters or a morning of banana pancakes.

Njola Mwanza community has been outrageously kind since my arrival. It's true what you hear, Zambians are indeed the friendliest people in this world. They put "Minnesota Nice" to shame! My community is anxious to start a Women's and Men's Club, Anti-AIDS Club, and various income generating activities. My one struggle is to overcome the "white American" stereotype in that I'm here to provide supplies and cash. Peace Corps goal is to utilize internal resources and have the community become independent as far as income and future development.

Another form of personal entertainment is to discover a way to remember members of the community. They will know who the "white woman" is but it will take me awhile to remember a Zambian name to a face of a couple thousand. Therefore, I have developed a system of my own. Most Zambians either remind me of a celebrity or a friend back home. If I put the two together, I can place 'em. For instance, I recently met a local headman who reminds me of Elton John with his smile and yes, unique sunglasses or a local teacher who is a young Kirby Puckett. Either way, I am enjoying myself in Zambia; every day is an adventure.

Your letters and phone calls have been my backbone since I left the comforts of America! I think about you all daily; in fact, I have about 2 dozen photos hanging in my hut already. I want to leave on this note...

"TOP TEN THINGS THAT WOULD ONLY HAPPEN IN ZAMBIA":

10. Realizing that your teeth are the only thing you can get white.

9. Discovering new ways to cook soya (fried, boiled, roasted...).

8. Learning how to bathe with one cup of water in order to ration.

7. Developing a flat head for the sole purpose of fetching 20L of water.

6. Inspecting on a nightly basis for any wildlife that thinks your hut is a potential nest area.

5. Inspecting on a daily basis for any insect that thinks your body is a new abode.

4. Hearing-loss from transport, discotheques, restaurants, pubs, etc.

3. One bicep bigger than the other due to brazier-swinging.

2. Nsima burns (or hot oil) on lower limbs of body.

1. Acne breakout on forehead from wearing a headlamp for an extended period of time.

Picture: Cooking fritters in my "kitchen" on a brazier.

Njola Mwanza welcomed an American to their accommodating village. My Zambian host family greeted me with warm smiles, a roasted pigeon, and a sweet pad to give me a sense of belonging for the next 2 years. We struggled communicating between English and Tonga but I know, now, that it will come with patience and practice (on my part). I felt like a vulnerable freshman on college move-in day. Should I greet my neighbor? Where should I hang family photos? When is the first kegger?

The last 2 weeks have passed quickly with meetings, church, and soccer games. Everyone wants to know who the white woman is and why did she leave her family in America, why isn't she married, no children, etc. We have a lot to learn about each other! There have been interesting cross-cultural exchanges up to this point. I never realized how difficult it would be to describe snow. My best bet is to just say, "It's like God's dandruff." I have made the mistake to say my home state is near Canada. Now the entire village thinks I'm Canadian.

For those of you who know me well, I have an awful sense of direction. Imagine that but in the African bush, "Turn left at the ant mound, straight past the huge thorn bush, and then you'll see a dead tree, keep going..." I have not met one person who doesn't smile or laugh at an immediate greeting. It truly is contagious, despite the fact that I have no idea what they are saying.

My routine is different here than in America. I woke up one morning immobile. I felt like I got trampled by a dozen 400m track athletes but it was just my body getting in shape to fetch water. Zambian women are tough, let me tell you.

Right now, I'm in the process of figuring out when transport is leaving back to my village. I attempted to bike to Monze (nearest town) but my rear bike tire failed 10km into my 35km trek. I ended up getting a ride from a man who looked vaguely like MC Hammer. Table-top cut and all.

Picture: A village man who is a Vikings fan? Taken near the Njola Clinic.

I finally got all of my photos uploaded. Took a few tries and different sites but all of them should be there! I wanted to describe a few of them for you, so you can understand the "eccentricness" of Peace Corps Volunteers. On Saturday, 7 of us traveled to Choma to stay for a few days. Choma is home-away-from-home to Southern Province Peace Corps Volunteers; basically headquarters for about 20 of us. We meet here about once a month to enjoy running water and electricity, attend meetings, and bake. Saturday night the veteran volunteers decided to throw us a welcoming party called "Nsima Games." A local friend constructed a dunk tank accompanied with nsima water, followed with a slip'n'slide, nsima bowling, sculpting, wrestling, and a dance-off to top it off. My body had scraps and bruises the following day but it was well worth it. So now, I wait. I get posted to my site on Thursday with a Land Rover packed of Zambian goods. Zambians don't understand or practice the concept of "bulk"; therefore, I'm expecting unwanted attention. Did I mention I'm white as well?

You all are in my thoughts and prayers daily. Keep the letters coming! I love to hate to hear what I'm missing, if that makes any sense?

It's getting down to the nitty-gritty... I have a few days left in Chongwe, with my Bamaama and loads of nsima. A few of us got "transport" into Lusaka early this morning to find gifts for our homestay families. For the next few days, we will be given our first living allowance, testing out of training, and celebrating the end of the beginning. My official 2-year service begins. The Peace Corps Volunteer Leader (PCVL) of each province recommends one thing, find a "posting song." Do you have a suggestion? This song will never have the same meaning again. I will be dropped off into the bush with just a few things on my back and a cat to keep my first night a quiet one. Speaking of, I saw my first Viper during language class last week. At first I heard a few Zambian women screaming, quickly followed by pounding from a large stick/log. Long story short, Zambians hate snakes. We had a quick "field trip" to a local National Park; lions, tigers, cheetahs, baboons. They were still behind the fence, so nothing different than the Minnesota Zoo! The most exciting part of the day was what we ate for lunch, Croc Burger and chips. I highly recommend it... Sorry this entry is choppy, my mind hasn't been the same since I left America. I have a feeling my grammar can only get worse from here on out, so please bear with me. Chitonga is messin' with my English; however, I am improving on my "Zamlish."

My intake group only has 2 weeks left of training and then we are thrown into our respective/chosen province. I just returned from a second site visit to a village called Chifusa, near Choma. I was able to briefly teach HIV/AIDS to a group of 100 6th graders, with help from a translator. He could have been saying anything for all I know, my Chitonga is awful! When the week came to an end we got creative with "bush meals" and attempted to cook egg rolls over a braiser. With help from vegetable oil and patience, they turned out quite all right. It's amazing how your standards for taste slowly begin to decrease over time!

Peace Corps graciously gave each volunteer travel/lodge money, so a fellow volunteer, trainee, and myself were blessed with a hotel stay last night in Lusaka. I took 2 showers in less than 12 hours, filled my tummy with amazing food, and slept in a comfy bed. I'm gradually learning how to move-about in Zambia. Transport can be an experience, to say the least. For 2 hours I was the only white American woman on a truck bed of 40 Zambians, their babies, chickens, and over 3 dozen maize bags. I realized it's all about skill and flexibility (literally).

I was able to visit my site where I will be living for 2 years. I will be located 40km from Monze, 60km from any Peace Corps Volunteer, and living on my Headman's compound. I believe he has 2 wives, 19 children, a few pigs, goats, a dozen chickens, pigeons, and loads of patience. My hut is "pleasing", with a kitchen area located just outside, and my own bathing shelter. I'm missing all of you! I would love to hear what is going on back home.

Picture: A flash forward to me preparing to cook over a fire at my home.

Yes, I am dedicating this post to the infamous nsima of Zambia. Nsima is ground maize (corn) over boiling water. The women here have guns (bulging biceps) because they pound the maize themselves and stir as if the world depended on it. Right now, I can only eat 1/2 lump a day. My homestay mom eats 3 lumps ... just for dinner. It's impressive, really. I told her my American body cannot handle it. Training is scheduled just like summer camp, minus the songs. All 47 of us trainees have 8 weeks left, with Sundays off. A few of us biked into town today, Chongwe, to use the Internet. My patience is already tested; that's for you Dad! I'm slowly learning Chitonga, which will be useful in the Southern Province of Zambia. I will be posted mid-August. The Volunteers here call it the "bush." I'm not sure what that means but I know I will soon find out. The Southern Province has network, so you can call my cell anytime. I miss you all and thank you for the supportive comments! Your kind words will keep me sane.

Someone once told me that the part of your brain that controls "denial" is actually a survival tactic. If it were not there, we would all die within minutes due to stress. Now, I don't know if this is necessarily true but I don't want to be the first to find out. I do know that it has been helping me the past month in preparation for my departure for Zambia. For those of you who do not know, I will be leaving on June 13th for Philly (I have always wanted to say that) for a pre-departure orientation, then June 16th for Zambia. The only information I know is what the Peace Corps has provided me in the past year. Of course, I do not feel prepared whatsoever but I think this is incorporates into the training process. I'm almost done with packing. I'm about 5lbs away from the limit -- oops -- but I have my Southern Mom to thank for that. Who says a woman can't wear makeup and have red toenails in the Peace Corps?

Bear with the grammatical errors and wrong use of past-tense, I was a psychology student for a reason! :) I will try to post every week when Internet is available. Look for an address change throughout my service (and tips on how it can reach me faster).

Lastly, I want to thank all of you who have been supportive up until this point. I could not do this without the love and thoughtfulness I have received in the past four years of college. I feel fortunate to have had particular individuals involved in my life that have truly inspired and directed me to this new transition. I could not thank you enough (and I haven't even left yet). Please, please keep in touch! Dust off your old stationary kit and glitter pens from middle school...