Dear future hubster

Dear future hubster, dear future, present and past readers, this future wife is soon moving to Africa. For challenge-meeting, soul-searching, star-gazing. Please stay tuned, as the hubsterblog will continue to report on what happens inside her head, and outside, in her world. 

Dear future hubster, do you think it would be to much to ask that clothing sizes make sense? I accepted that some are numbered 36-38-40-42, others are with letters S-M-L, the Commonwealth goes with 6-8-10-12, the French sometimes dumb it down to 1-2-3-4. That's already a lot of work for me, but ok. Now if I try on a 38 in one shop and it's waaaaay too tight, I expect a 38 to be just as tight in the other shop. Not loose enough to fit a guest. 

Dear future hubster, sometimes I understand the French getting irritated about how nobody else knows how to use a roundabout.

Dear future hubster, I hope that at least sometimes, you also stare at the moon in awe, because it's so big and orange (or yellow) and shiny, and close and unreal. If you then quote Bruce from The Kid, you definitely score some extra brownie points.

Dear future hubster, just for your information: if the TV talks to me in French, I will talk back in French. Out loud. 

Dear future hubster, this afternoon's trip is the perfect, if a bit literal example of how a series of mildly mistaken decisions can get you to beautiful places. Such as Hobscheid, Saeul, Tuntange or Septfontaines.

Dear future hubster, how do I know where home is if the heart and the skates happen to be in different locations?