Mancat Monday
This is our Khaki boy. He is holding up
the barn. He does stay mainly out at
the donkey barn.
He also likes to be cute. He does protect
his barn.
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We sure hope everyone has a
great Monday and a super week.
What a sweet, small world—26 years in the making!
If someone had told me I’d one day stand on African soil, I’d never have believed him. But there I was, sitting next to my husband on a British Air 747, and we had just touched down at Jomo Kenyatta International Airport in Nairobi, Kenya. Africa! The date was August 21, 1993. Dave and I ducked through the jet’s little oval door and, squinting in early morning sunshine, we clunked down a metal stairway. With carry-on bags and laptop computer tucked under our arms, we followed fellow passengers across the tarmac and up the stairs into the terminal—much smaller than the last three we’d seen, JFK and London’s two airports, Heathrow and Gatwick. Inside the dimly lit terminal, a man stepped out of the crowd and handed us forms. Bleary-eyed after an all-night flight, we thumbed through our passports, searched for numbers and dates, and filled in the forms’ blanks. Next, we joined a line facing a row of narrow wooden booths that looked like something from my childhood back in the 1950s—h...
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