Peanut butter or vegetables; accento feo

My dearest Mother, Keith, siblings, The Littles, cousins, other people who are reading this,

I received the package, mother. Gracia, gracia, gracia. My brain now highly associates peanut butter with home. I’m really grateful that I have peanut butter, but maybe a little less grateful that I eat five thousand peanut butter and jelly sandwiches every day. I think I now have what I like to openly call my ‘Pan Pouch.’

I swear I’ve never eaten so unhealthily in my life. And it’s sort of my fault but sort of Iquitos’ fault. They don’t believe in vegetables here, Mom. Probably because they’re in the jungle and vegetables just don’t seem to exist here. Tomato and cucumbers are the only two vegetables I regularly see, and they’re expensive. Oh, and onion. (For Saturday morning breakfast I ate a piece of bread with a slab of onion just to feel better about my food’s nutritional value.)

My goal for this week is to buy a ton of tomato and cucumber and onion and lime and pears and any other vegetable/fruit I can find and eat all of it. No more bread with liquid cheese! No more, I say! It’s inhumane!

Have I mentioned that I’m a spoiled white kid on the inside? On the outside, too, but I want to clarify that I’m falling into stereotypes here.

So, all of last week’s member miracles seemed to have dried up for this week. This means that we had a whopping 6 lessons with members, and in missionary terms, that’s really, really sad. That said, last week we had 0 progressing, and 0 people with baptism dates. This week we have five people preparing for the 25 of January. And this is really, really good.(You have no idea how hard it is to type in English. I’m using all my Spanish missionary phrases and it’s terribly difficult not to start spewing Spanish at you all.)

My Spanish is no longer a gaping, festering disaster. Well, it’s still disastrous, but sometime in the last two weeks, my brain and my mouth decided to correlate their efforts, and I can get sentences out quite regularly now. My companion tells me that I have an ‘accento feo’ but she’s Argentinean and rolls her r’s like nobody’s business. The r here is really subdued, and my first companion, Hermana Martinez de Bolivia, hardly rolled her r’s at all. But mostly I’m like, ‘Listen, I’m trying to learn a new language in a handful of months. Accent is going on the backburner.’

But really, Spanish is easier. Teaching is easier. I think it’s sort of true, what everyone says. The first two months were pretty grueling, and I felt quite isolated, but it’s so much better now. I can even make a joke, if I try really, really hard. My goal is to work in a pun this week. We’ll see how that goes.

I think the credit card is a much better idea, Mother. I would love to not have all of my money stolen. But if you could send licorice with the package. And other unhealthy things. Like more reeses peanut butter cups. But mostly licorice.

I love you all! I’m really proud of your cooking, Mom. I’m also just really proud of you. You’re pretty amazing. Have I told you that lately? You’re an amazing mother. Don’t forget to eat your vegetables. Tell all hello and that they’re loved and missed.

Hermana Compton

P.S. I may be the joke of our zone because I’m known as the girl whose mom sends heaps of salt in her Christmas package.  But I’m not bothered one bit. Because I have all the peanut butter.


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