In which Alisa is (finally!) accepted into the Peace Corps:

After one failed application, three years of waiting, and six years of wanting, I have finally been accepted into the Peace Corps. I'll be leaving either the second or third week of March to (most likely) Morocco and will be doing some kind of health education work.

I am excited. I am. But I am also freaking the f out. Mid-March is a mere 59 days away. That's less than two months, less than nine weeks, 59 DAYS to quit my job and help my boss hire/train a new assistant, pack up and schlep all my crap from DC back to Bristol, and try to pack for 2+ years. Like I said, freaking the f out.

I've also done a little research and discovered I will most likely be staying in a wee village as opposed to a cosmopolitan city like Casablanca or Marrakesh. Wee villages mean turkish toilets and bucket baths. Like I said, I am excited for Peace Corps, but this has pretty much been my reaction since finding out I've been accepted: "Ohmygodohmygodohmygod. I'm going to have to poop in a hole. Can I poop in a hole? Okay, I can poop in a hole, obviously. But can I poop in a hole for two years? Ohmygodohmygodohmygod... I'm going to have to poop in a hole." I may or may not have started doing squats in preparation (hint: I am totally doing squats in preparation).




Umm... I think that's it for now. I'll probably write more when I get more details and probably also to continue freaking out about pooping in a hole.

PS
Stan, if you're reading this, I apologize for offending your fragile sensibilities.

PPS
Mom, if you're reading this, f stands for Fox News.