I see you shiver with antici... pation

Was it wicked of me to leave you with such a cliffhanger? Did you lose sleep wondering whether I looked like a sausage in a bubblegum-colored polo shirt?

While Thailand is generally not the place to assert your individuality, I changed my plans only a little to err on the side of there-were-people-in-feathered-tophats-at-the-King's-Birthday and decided to wear this:


No one said anything, and I looked super cute. The buttons on the pink shirt are little sparkly beads. And yes, those are jellyfish on my dress! $1/yard mystery fabric: one thing I miss in the States.

Children's Day was lovely! The sparkly sign fluttered in the wind like an octofly!


There was this game, wherein you try to eat a donut armed only with your face.


There was this game, for which the children segregated themselves automatically and efficiently by gender.


There was this game, which appeared for awhile to be an elaborate hoax fabricated from kevlar or something.


There was this game, wherein the real Ryan and the pretend Ryan were dangerously indistinguishable.


And there was this kid, whose tee shirt made my day:

My Donkeypede has the silliest features

Today I will talk about the Children's Day preparations that filled my last week. Tomorrow I will talk about Children's Day itself.

Every year Ban Phe has a big Children's Day celebration. Usually Siam English Training School just gives out delicious (smelling) barbecue ribs, which gives the school quite a popular booth. This year, though, the school wanted games and contests and prizes!

On Tuesday, we had a big meeting about Children's Day in the afternoon. Autumn and I would get to make a big, sparkly Children's Day sign:


And I painted a pin-the-tie-on-the-teacher teacher, complete with glittery maple leaf buckle:


And example drawings for the Animal Magic contest, an assignment which Emily relished more than should a professional woman of 26:


Before the big meeting on Tuesday, Autumn and I had planned our outfits over lunch. We settled finally on full-skirted dresses that would allow the glorious combination of freedom of movement, washability and breathability required for a day of herding children in the sun. Our faces gaped in horror when, almost as an afterthought, one of the Thai staff asked what color *shirts* we should wear and the answer was provided: pink.

We knew what they meant. They meant the bubblegum-colored polo shirts from the King's Birthday. Could I endure a *second* well-photographed day looking like a pepto sausage? Bubblegum polo shirts offer little in the way of breathability or freedom of movement. A dark cloud settled over Ban Phe as the rest of the staff emptied the meeting room and Autumn and I sat, staring at one another, unable to speak. The weather spoke for us, and the darkened skies cracked and released more sorrow than we could have expressed in words.

I hate to end on such a terrible note, but you can read about the actual occurrences of Children's Day, including my wardrobe choices, tomorrow.