I’m fairly certain that you all already know this, but let it be remembered that Keith is a wonderful, wonderful person. You guys are reading the book of Mormon in Spanish? We are so keeping that one up when I get home. He’s just such a good guy, you know? Like, he’s nesting for my return, painting my room and making sure everyone knows it’s mine, and knows strange things like the longest word in the dictionary. He’s nice. I like him. Thanks for getting married.
Apart from my general adoration of Keith, my life here is good. I have a wonderful companion. Her name is Hermana Crosby. You know those amazingly beautiful sports people that I wasn’t really sure existed in real life? That’s her. She’s awesome. I’d probably abhor her if I didn’t adore her so much. She names things in our area like, ‘The Poop Pond.’ And Life’s so much easier these days.
We’re working really hard in our area, and we had a few people attend church yesterday. We found a hilarious family the other week. It’s three generations. Mitza, the mom, her son, Juan, and her parents. She’s a bit older, and he’s 22, and they make us laugh soooo hard. The grandpa’s deaf, and always randomly starts shouting questions, and the grandma—súper catolica—starts praying or singing catholic songs in the middle of the lessons. But the Mitza grasps the idea of the restored priesthood and Juan’s never been baptized, and is really interested in the por qúe of the baptism.
Whhhaat? Jackie’s potty trained? I find that more astounding than the fact that him and Ben go to preschool at the same time. This is really quite mean of you all to be growing up without me. Ugh. Have I already mentioned that I’m quite impressed with The Richard and AesaLina duo?
Sinda says she’s sending me a care package—yay!—and I was thinking of sending something home. I have a few trinkets for the kids, and I’d love to ship some of it off for you guys. I think I’ll try to send it off next week. It’d probably get there for the tail-end of February. Side note: Cannot believe that January has already come and is heading out.
But everything’s going splendidly here. I’m praying that God doesn’t boot me out of Iquitos for my last change. I’ve been here my whole mission, and I’ve become quite attacked.(Kathleen here–I’m sure attacked should be attached. Freudian slip that seems appropriate so I won’t edit.) I refuse to believe that my mission president will send me to a new city with a new companion in a new area my last six weeks here in Perú. It would be cruel. And I would be sad. And probably trunky. Not recommendable.
But all goes well here. How goes the plans for traveling to Peru. Are you going to get your passports on time? Gas prices still low? What else has happened that I don’t know about. You know, sometimes I worry the zombie epidemic is totally going to start and I won’t hear a word.
I’m sure you’ve taken notice already,
but I don’t do my hair here.
Like, it’s combed daily.
But the friz here.
It kills hair.
There’s the Hermana Myth
that at a year mark there’s the health problems
I just have The Friz. . .
but I have noticed I lose a suspicious amount of hair these days
please buy wig preemptively