Week 3

I can't believe that it's already week three!  The first few days went by so slowly and now I'm almost halfway done!  It's crazy!  So I have a funny story to tell:

 

On Tuesday we have service hours, so we can wear P-day clothes until we go to lunch, as long as we get a sack breakfast instead of going in the cafeteria.  So all the sisters in my district, and me, did that.  We were sitting in our bedroom, eating our breakfasts when I looked down.  I was sitting cross-legged (for the first time in FOREVER since I rarely wear jeans) and I noticed a hole in the crotch of my jeans.  Oops.  So I automatically pointed it out to my companion, of course.  We laughed and I was like "I TOLD you I was getting fatter!  It's just harder to notice because I'm always in a skirt."  Then I stood up to throw away my trash and felt a hole in the butt of my jeans.  I ran to the mirror and it was a sizeable hole.  I was like "Sister Keenan!  Worst companion ever!  Why did you let me walk all over the MTC like this?!"  Apparently it wasn't there before, so it must have happened when I was sitting.  I went to sit down and they ripped again!  Within the 30 minutes we were in our room for breakfast, my pants ripped four times.  Terrible.  I only brought two pairs of jeans, and they're the same pair of pants.  One is just a little darker blue.  So now I'm super paranoid whenever I wear my Pday clothes because I'm afraid that my apparently massive self is going to bust through my pants at any moment.  The End.

 

That was probably a terribly told story, but I haven't gotten a decent amount of sleep since I got here, so I don't care too much. :)  Let's see, what else......the little timer in the corner of my computer screen freaks me out and it's hard for me to sit and think about what to right next.  It's like a bomb countdown.

 

I had a dream last night that I got on Facebook at the MTC (out of habit, not from any desire to be disobedient) and they kicked me out of the MTC and I had to go home.  It was scary.  I accidentally did it, then hurried and exited out of it, but in the dream they went through your browser history after you were done with the computers.  I think it was because yesterday this Elder was talking about how his dad was an assistent to a mission president, and one time he had to bring all these elders in.  Apparently, they had all gone to a baseball game and happened to get on the camera, so the mission president wrote down all their names and had them come in.  When the elder's dad got them he was like "sorry, but be honest".  Apparently they all lied about it.  So the mission president showed them the video, then sent them all home.  I guess that's what my subconscious mind was thinking about.

My companion and I are sick, so we get a magical pass.  It means you can go down to the BYU health center whenever you like and get drugs.  Pretty much a get out of jail free card, so it's pretty cool.  This Elder in my district got a nap pass though, so that's more cool.  Not fair, because I have the same thing he has, since he GAVE it to me.  Rude.

 

Somebody needs to smack Lyn and Emily upside the head and get them to write me.  Even just a Dear Elder.  I don't have their addresses until they do.  OH!  That reminds me.  If you're writing me letters, PLEASE don't translate the whole thing in Google Translate.  Parts are fine.  For example, my mom sends me a thought of the day that she translated in Google Translate.  Those are fun.  They're like little puzzles, and make me feel better about my portuguese.  But when you translate your whole letter, I have no idea what's going on for 3 reasons:

1:  I don't speak Portuguese well.

2: Google doesn't speak Portuguese well.  Word patterns and phrases that mean something in English have zero meaning in Portuguese.

3: Dear Elder is not very cultural and hates anything besides English.  If there is a letter that has an accent, or is a non-english character, or is anything remotely foreign, it omits the entire letter and just puts a question mark.

 

Not to rain on the Portuguese parade, but it's frustrating to not be able to read entire letters. I have to slave over them to get only half of what their saying, and then I have to take them to my teacher and have her translate them (hoping there's nothing strange) so I can get the rest of the message. :)  However, if this is too much of a demand, and you will not write me unless you can use Google Translate, then proceed.  It's better to get letters I can't read than to get no letters at all. :)

 

My mom also sent me a list of all the people who wished me Happy Birthday on FB, so thanks guys!  I'm glad to hear you haven't forgotten all about me already!

Mom, Allison, Sarah, Mike, Jared, Rachel, and Chrispy:  I promise I'm writing you back!

 

Love,

Sister Peart

 

P.S. Sorry it took so long for people to get my last letters.  Memorial Day was the destroyer of many dreams.  No mail at all for like four days.  We almost died.  Anway.

 

P.P.S.  If you want to hear about something specific in these emails, you should email me questions or subject prompts.  Because it's really hard for me to think of what to write, so it just gets rambly.

 

P.P.P.S. I got to eat lunch with a general authority the other day, so y'all be jealous.  He and his friend came and sat by me and my companion during lunch and talked to us for the whole lunch hour.  He lived in Monticello when he was at BYU.  Estranho.  His name is Elder Timothy J. Dyches of the second quorum of the seventy.  I had to buy an Ensign and look him up by his picture because I forgot his name...

 

P.P.P.P.S. I saw Claire Thomas.  She reported on Wednesday.  Precious roommate reunion.  :)