Sometimes it's hard to write weekly emails. Like today. Today it's really hard. Because it's hot and my stomach is full of the two lunches that I was forced to eat and my thoughts are literally all over the place and I have no idea what to say or where to begin.
Sometimes it's like...blah, everyone can wait to hear about my mission until I get home.
This week was weird. Lots of things happened.
For example, one of our investigators who came to church on Sunday asked us if we use Coke for the sacrament.
I also had an investigator ask me why we can't go visit God in an airplane.
Um, because you're not Chuck Norris.
Throwback to that one time that I was being super sweet and service-y and washing dishes at this one lady's house and she was like "OHMYGOSH. GRINGOS KNOW HOW TO WASH DISHES?!?!?!?!??!?!?!?!?"
Like plesae. I lived through the ages of dial up internet. I can do anything.
Women here are way too comfortable about nursing their babies at any time or in any place or in front of anyone.
Like, cough cough, now I know you way better than I ever wanted to.
Sacrament meeting has gone over 30 minutes for the past two Sundays and I'm thinking about writing President Monson to complain.
Hermana Calpa painted little cats on my nails so I guess I like cats now.
Keep it real.