A Little Something Sweeney: Family. Friends. Fiction. Food.

Ok, I just have to go on record and say this has been one of those hell-inspired weeks that everyone spends their free moments dreading. I doubt I have the time to explain it to do it justice. But i shall give it a go. Ok, so for some reason, this week was when the heavens decided to weep uncontrollably. For what reason, I´m still trying to decipher. But when it rains, it pours, and when it pours, members don´t want to salir with us to go on citas with investigators. The reason we are supposed to have said members with us is so that the investigators see that yes, there are normal Mormons, and no, not every member wears a skirt and a nametag everyday, nor do they have to refrain from hugs (you wouldn´t believe the awkward amount of male hugs I have to dodge here. It´s becoming an art form for me.) It´s also to familarize potential future members with people who already are members. Sometimes, it´s nice to have a friend, so i´m told. Well, not only were people not really able or willi

I can't even take it. Halloween was but a week ago (which isn't really celebrated here) and now, there are Christmas lights and trees and all sort of decorations exploding out of people's homes. As if every house here wasn't already an homage to Jesus, now it's just even more ridiculous. I am not ready for this. I need my turkey and gravy to be on its way to digestion before I see any crazy blinking lights or listen to "Silent Night" a thousand times.  And as one of my companions from the MTC in the D.R. said, I should just make a Christmas card to send out that says "Merry Christmas, it's blazing hot down here!" But in my regards to my earlier comment about Jesus and his apparent visitation to every house here in the D.R., I'm really not exaggerating. Everything is so God right now. Even the taxi cabs go around proclaiming "Cristo ya viene," or "Si Dios esta conmigo, ?Quien contra mi? And yes, I know, that the first ques

Ok, So yeah, being me, last P day, I broke my arm. Or thought I did. Hermana Brown and I decided to wrestle. I beat her at leg wrestling (of course) but she got her revenge. About 5 seconds into our real wrestling, I felt a grotesque pain in my left arm. Why would I automatically assume it´s broken, you might wonder? Because apparently my bones are made of marshmallows and when I do something REALLY strenuous, like taking a step or opening the fridge, I just snap. So the thought of being broken in a foreign country seemed very possible, and very unappealing. Turns out, it is, or, that is, would be. We went to the doctor on Wednesday (we didn´t go right away, in case the pain went away. It didn´t). Well, they didn´t accept my insurance, but they accepted my 2,000 pesos pretty readily. Ai! But I swear, the doctor twisted my arm a bit, and I didn´t really feel anything, so he assured me he was 95 percent sure it was ok. Whew, thanks for that, but I would still like some x rays, if that´s