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

O sea, WE were the ones rocked by a rather beastly Hurricane named Issac. I learned (or relearned, I don´t remember), that Hurricanes are named after the people that discover them. I can´t tell if hoping to find and name a future Hurricane "Hurricane Sweeney" is in bad taste or not. But considering we didn´t really have too many negative side effects, I really have no beef with hurricanes. Just that Issac made it so I couldn´t leave me house for two days in a row. And considering we don´t have radio, Internet, T.V., those two days COUNT! So what do trapped missionaries with a mild case of cabin fever do? 1). Make no bake cookies by candlelight (you´re probably not going to have constant light during a hurricane). 2) Attempt to nap. My body won´t let me nap on the mission, but I think during Issac´s visit, I finally managed to succeed. 3). You fight with your companion over whether or not Issac´s howls sound more like her name or yours. I´m still convinced Issac was coming fo

Tee hee. One of the few phrases my companion, Hermana Rodriguez, loves to say in English is "I hate you." And we use this phrase a lot because, for some reason, in ridiculous, unexpected moments (someone drank the last of the boxed milk, for example), it´s just funny and amusing. However, if the sentiment borders on accuracy, then there is little to no mirth involved. As someone representing the Big Boss, I really shouldn´t harbor feelings of strong dislike, let alone, hate. But some people just really put themselves in a separate category marked "special exceptions." And that´s when I have to do the whole "deep breathes, count to ten, eat something chocolaty," dance. Once such person we will call Justin because he looks suspiciously like Justin Timberlake . Well, a skinnier version of J.T. And more or less around my age. But anyway, my companion and I were out contacting in a neighborhood a good distance from where we live, and when we met Justin, we d

The Olympics apparently have come to an end. Well, for some that is. I still have my own personal jungle gym of athleticism called the Great Quisqueyan Olympics. I remember back when I was in training mode and my child Hermana Bryant had the curiosity of how much walking we do on the mission. She promptly asked her parents to send her and odometer for her birthday package. I wasn´t there with her when said package arrived, but when she started to use it, apparently she learned that, more or less, in a six-hour period the sister missionaries of the Dominican Republic West Mission can walk up to 13 miles daily. 13 miles! O sea, in a year-and-a-half, we walk close to 6,000 miles (I did the math and no longer remember the real number, and 6,000 sounds pretty impressive). I feel confident saying 6,000 because with the way we are walking in Quisqueya, we are definitely using our feet more then we did in Azua (my current comp. Hna. Rodriguez also served in Azua, and in fact, served with Hna.

Audible sigh. I just love a good song. And the title of this week´s blog comes straight from the mouth of a future star... o sea, my very own companion Hermana Rodriguez. She just loves to sing. And one day, while we were walking home at night, she busts out with most of the English she knows to form the above lyrics. She would like to title it "My Freakin´ Mind." At least, I believe that´s what she wants to say. Her other hit that is in the works is "My Freakin´ Love." Needless to say, when she randomly busts out with these insta-classics, I almost wet myself. But at this moment in time, I can relate very much to her songs. Because every time I go to open my mouth as of late, or even when I am in the middle of a sentence, people seem to decide "I can´t wait another second to butt in with a completely unrelated topic. I must act now!" And whatever I WAS saying becomes lost in a sea of static cling and forgotten phrases. It´s super annoying. I actually did

Well, it might as well be truth. Logically, if only sometimes the right thing and the hard thing are the same, SOMETIMES the right thing can also simultaneously be the easy thing. In my case, this week at least, it was. Remember a lovable place called The Yuca? I can take you back to a time when I was young and innocent and didn´t actually like the taste of the Yuca root. That all has changed. I now enjoy eating all sorts of oddities, and I also really enjoyed getting a call at 7:00 a.m. this last Wednesday saying, "Hermana Sweeney, we will be having intercambios today. You will go to the Yuca with Hermana Garcia and Hermana Lopez (the Assistant Hermana to the President, more or less), will come to Quisqueya. We will meet at noon in front of La Sirena and, much like all the crappy Cinderella stories, the fairytale will end at the 12:00 hour the following day, (in the noon, not at night, however). On your mark, get set... GO!" Ok, somewhere along the way, I started paraphrasin