Heart is not a house.

Millie and Furry have been developing a facinating thought during the past few days. Home is where your heart is. A house is not a home. So... A house isn't where your heart is? Your heart isn't in the house? House is a heart? Having started my funeral adventure by getting myself delivered from door to door I can now honestly say, that my heart is in the course center in the sticks, where I can see and hear the ocean and where there's always somebody to talk to. I am homesick already now and I've only been away for 6h 45min. I forgot my cane, my Finnish SIM-card and my binoculars home. Luckily there might be a spare cane in the other home in Finland.

I left a message for this international family of mine, it had absolutely nothing in it, but the message was more or less that I will miss them and am planning to return after being away for 3% of the year. In the evening, while watching the Big Bang Theory and eating Asian take out in my host family the phone rang and one of the mid term volunteers was there, wanting to say goodbye and wish me luck and strength. This truly is a family :)

The win-win learning situation yesterday involved A wanting to draw something on the foot of B, B not really fancying the idea and the situation escalating to a somewhat hilarious wrestling match. In the end B had a smiley on his leg, A had lost her marker and both A and B had very permanently marked hands. Today A has a sore shoulder, a few funny sore muscles and a feeling, that she needs to start excercising. B apparently has just the permanent smiley on his leg.