Eliza Doolittle in the Desert

August 19, 2013

Yes, so the moral of the story is to never pour boiling hot corn-water into a stubbornly soapy water bottle. Story unnecessary, just don't do it.

In other tidbits of information, I am no longer homeless (hallelujah) and therefore have an actual factual address to which I can receive large, bulging amounts of mail.

Sister Hope Thomas

Mediterra Apartment Homes

43-100 Palm Royale, #1724

LaQuinta, CA 92253 

You should probably send me five or six letters to make sure that the postal system is functioning properly. As a concerned taxpayer I might even go so far as to call it a duty.

This week was an adventure. Well, missionary work is an adventure, and I have officially relinquished the idea that a "normal" transfer exists. It's just not possible. And if there DID happen to be a normal transfer, it wouldn't be normal anyway because having a normal one… isn't normal.

THIS transfer, between sharing an apartment between 5 girls (one bedroom, one bathroom....yikes,) which is why we moved by-the-way, and having to basically start from scratch looking for housing because we found legitimate mushrooms growing in our kitchen (like good-sized mushrooms,) has made the first couple weeks crazy-hectic, but also crazy-fun!

For example. one of my companions, Hermana Sudweeks, said that one of the best ways to learn the language was to read the Book of Mormon. Out loud. In Spanish. With a PEN in my mouth........yes. please share in my confusion. (Suppose to help with pronunciation?) But I decided to try it (oh the desperateness of missionaries to learn the language.)  And I thought you might enjoy a tasteful photo of Language Study Time.

   

Yes. Not sure if it really helps, or if the Hermanas just needed a good laugh, but as of now I can add "reading Spanish with pen in my mouth" to the "talents" portion on any job application. Should undoubtedly propel me toward success in the business world.

Another semi-noteworthy note worth noting is that I completely threw out my back this week. I have NO idea how it happened, but I am now walking around in a graceful 95-year-old fashion. BUT the upside is that I have become REALLY good at picking things up without actually bending down. (My resume is just getting better and better.) Have no fear, though. It is definitely healing and my Venezuelan companion has taught me the little song  they sing to their kids when they get an owie.

"sana sana,

culito de rana

si no sana hoy

sanara manana"

Which basically just says if it doesn't get better today it will get better tomorrow. So I decided to make up my own little saying and embroider it on my hand towel. (keep in mind that last transfer I was very sick for a few days)

"I've thrown up my food

I've thrown out my back

but I won't throw in the towel."

O.k. I think Mother Goose would be satisfied with my number of rhymes for this week, so let's move on.

WIWTK: Repentance. It's not a punishment, it's a privilege.

But more on that next time. I'm running out of minutes.

-Hermana Thomas