I hate living overseas. Experiences and cheap flights to the rest of Asia be damned. I’m horribly, horribly homesick and I just want to go home.
Apparently baking is a perishable skill. I attempted to make buckeyes last night, and having neither microwave nor double boiler, tried to melt the chocolate in a glass bowl over boiling water. It ended in lots of negative feels, burned chocolate, and a headache.
Autumn is slow to come here. The trees are still green. It’s cooled off some (yay no more 90 degrees + 80% humidity days), but the air still doesn’t have that little nip that says fall. I. need. autumn.
The only thing that makes me feel better is making things. Not sure if this is due to distraction or sense of accomplishment it provides.
I miss Alfie so badly. He’s never even lived here with us and yet I look for him everywhere. I keep reminding myself it was better FOR HIM to stay in Virginia but part of me isn’t convinced.
Draken had her little dragon. She’s beautiful. The sleep sack I knit for her is the only project I’ve finished lately.
I want to go home.