Random Ranting

I really should be sleeping right now. Six hours from now, when I wake up due to the stress-induced heart attack caused by knowing I'm going to be late for work, I'll think back to this moment when I decided to write instead of sleep. With that in mind...

I watched the dorkiest movie on Friday: All About Steve. Wow, it's dorky. But the reason I bring it up is because it had such a nice message. I was thrilled with how it ended; not your usual Hollywood ending that you all know I love so well. Anyway, if you haven't seen it, it's cute and funny.

My new job starts a week from tomorrow and my feelings about it range from excitement to slight nervousness (normal, I suppose). The prospect of leaving Starbucks is like a carrot dangling in front of me, keeping me going for these last few shifts. Somehow, things get worse and worse as the end of my employment nears. I don't remember ever hating Starbucks this much, and yet I can't recall a time when I didn't. Hopefully the new page I'm turning won't be so odious as this job has been!

Well, this has been a short and calm version of my ranting. I really should go to sleep, because I wasn't kidding about the stress-induced heart attack! Sleeping in is my favorite pastime!

Creative Withdrawl

Have you ever had unidentifiable emotions? If only words could express the confusion I feel right now! Please don't mistake this for depression. Honestly, I haven't been happier in years. Rather, this unknown feeling is a welling-up of creative energy begging to be let loose. Unfortunately, I have neither the time nor the energy to create right now...or ever, it seems. This creative withdrawl has begun to take a toll on my spirit; it seems to have changed who I am. If only I could turn to a pencil and paper rather than a laptop keyboard, perhaps that would keep me true to myself. Maybe if I could spend more time with my camera examining the minute beauties of the world around me, such gems of life that are lost in the hustle of daily living...perhaps that would tame the fire in my heart. I've lost the creative freedom I used to enjoy, and now I am left with a listless ennui (it's a cool word, look it up). There is some potential here...at least I recognize this emotion now.

Happy Ending

Here I sit, 3 in the morning, nowhere else to turn but an empty computer screen, filled with disgusting dark memories and feelings from my past. Who knew six years would mean such little advancement for me psychologically? After six years, today I realize that this meaningless, insignificant blog is my only outlet for all the pain I hold. This is my alternative. THIS is what I turn to instead of a knife. What progress I've made...

Excuse me for my psychotic outburst. Typing is the only thing keeping me detained right now. Writing these worthless, mute words is the only thing keeping me sane. "I always try to make you feel comfortable because I see you don't have a lot of friends." Stab me instead of saying those words. It would hurt so much less.

I am sick of happy endings in movies. Idealistic, unrealistic portrayals of human interactions just give us false hope of how our lives could turn out. I will never have a "happy ending." Why can't I resign myself to that fact?

Do me a favor: let me bleed. That's how I heal.

Cloudy Morning

I couldn't believe I was able to go to the Assembly! Both days the sun was pouring through the clouds producing beautiful rays of light angling toward the earth. That always makes for a more enjoyable ride!

Snow From My Pillow

Hello faithful blog followers! (AKA, mom lol)

So I'm sitting in bed, as per the norm this past week, when a flood of memories comes rushing upon me. I moved to Pocatello in February 2006. It was quite a change from the long summers of Arizona (especially considering that year was abnormally warm in February). There was something about this quaint little town that was especially intriguing to all of us. Personally, I think it's the old-time back drop and the laid-back life style to match. April and I went out in service with a couple of sisters from the Highland congregation on a Wednesday morning. It was snowing. It had been years since we'd seen a good snow like that one.

Have you ever seen something ordinary and been transformed to a memory? I looked out my window this morning and was met with a soft white winter wonderland. Instantly: I had the feeling of my itchy wool coat that I desperately try to shield from my skin. The long fluffy scarf wrapped several times, mittens that make my hand three times bigger and inhibiting any useful function, and of course the boots that, try as I might, could never help me look like a lady. After all of this effort in preparing for the day, my cheeks still get rosy from the crisp air. The day culminates in me curling up in an ultra soft fleece blanket, hulled up in the house in the warm company of family. That's why I love snow in Pocatello...even when I'm house-bound!

Perfect Paradise

Today I write out of desperation, my last resort, my final attempt at finding some sort of solace in the chaotic hell my life has become. I haven't felt this internally out-of-control in several years. Explaining the situation will do no good. I only wish I could properly explain the way I'm feeling in words. Why does this always happen to the people I care about the most? Not that I would wish it on anyone else, but it seems like it all gets piled on at once.

I had lunch with a sister today who told me she thinks that we're even closer to the end of this system than even the brothers let on. She said she thinks we're actually in the Great Tribulation NOW! We're all waiting for this cry of peace and security, but what if it's already happened? What if the next thing we see is the destruction of false religion? Her logic made sense to me. Things have gotten worse than I could ever have imagined. Honestly, I think that if the Apostle Paul were on earth today even he would be shocked. My mom has now been battling cancer for more than half her life. I've personally suffered for more than 15 years with a disgusting disorder that has surprisingly not yet inspired me to take my own life. I've fought to reason with myself in times when reason is the furthest thing from my mind and spent countless nights crying myself to sleep wondering if it's even worth continuing to live. If these were isolated or seldom occurrences, it wouldn't prove anything. But really how common it is! And now, I see how much worse things are getting. We're all so wrapped up in the problems we've been facing for so many years that we can't even see that this system is tumbling to it's dramatic demise! Can we really not endure just a little while longer? Honestly, I don't know if I can.

In case anyone hasn't noticed yet, I try to make all the titles of my blogs "paradoxical" in some way. Can anyone tell if there really is such a thing as a perfect paradise?

As Good As Gold

I've been getting let down quite a bit lately. Whenever that happens, I usually think a lot about different quotes and stuff that kind of reassure me that I'm definitely right. Sad, I know. For example, when someone goes through some kind of hardship like losing a loved one in death... how people will say things like "just let me know if I can help" or "I will be there for you no matter what." Ok, first of all, you want to know if you can help? You think there's a chance this person won't need help after what they've been through? I think it would be safe to assume that even the crankiest loner-iest person on earth likes to have a companion, someone to depend on when times get tough. So why do people always seem to say the same useless, trite words of "comfort?"

In answer to that question, many might reason "they meant well." That's about as helpful as a bowl of ice in a blizzard. "The road to hell is paved with good intentions." I appreciate the thought, people, but that won't keep the snow from falling. Maybe I'm mixing my metaphors. Oh well. Very few things in life are as good as gold. They are as follows:

1.) Jehovah's promises (better than gold, but let's not get wrapped up in semantics)
2.) Gold
3.) Real friends, who intend to help...and follow through

One of my favorite poems is by Robert Frost called "Nothing Gold Can Stay" (I know, not very original, but check it out)

Nature's first green is gold,

Her hardest hue to hold.

Her early leaf's a flower;

But only so an hour.

Then leaf subsides to leaf.

So Eden sank to grief,

So dawn goes down to day.

Nothing gold can stay

Clearly, our friend Robert is quite the pessimist in this aspect, but I think I agree with him about 90 percent of the time. Usually, the beginning of all things is the most beautiful part of it (just like nature's first green, spring green!). Personally, I've noticed that it's almost impossible to retain that initial beauty ("but only so an hour" or a short period of time). It seems like as soon as things start to look beautiful, "leaf subsides to leaf," or things start to fade from perfection to devastation. You see, almost "nothing gold can stay."

Spring is over for me. Pocatello was my "Eden," and now it is my "grief." I can't tell you why. I think I've allowed my expectations to be too high too much, and now my heart has been broken so many times I can hardly put the pieces back together. At times of feeling so helpless, I like to remember the good things. I never would have met Liz and Jeremiah if we hadn't lived here. She is my sister for life, and if I hadn't met her I think my life would have always lacked a little bit of sunshine and love. Maybe there's more out there for me. Maybe grief is holding me back. I need to get rid of this "gold," and move on.

Anticipated Doctor's Appointment

I made it to the doctor on Thursday, and it really was something to look forward to! We left early, but getting into the car proved to be such a challenge, that we didn't end up going inside Starbucks. My dad went in with our orders (which we didn't leave up to chance that he would remember so we wrote them out for him!), and then we drove up to the drive-thru window to show the girls my wicked leg brace. They were jealous, I could tell. On the way to the doctor, we still had extra time so we took the long way. Driving in the university area always makes me happy especially in the springtime. Despite our fickle weather lately, I got to enjoy a beautiful sunny day with a calm cool breeze.

The trek into the office was horrible because I'm really very slow on my crutches, so I felt like every eye was on me as I slowly hobbled to a chair. When the nurse called my name, she on the far side for the sitting area, so I got up dreading the slow walk toward her. By the time they decided my stitches were not quite ready to come out, I was already feeling queasy. Then they told me I would be getting xrays. Great! I can't wait to see if my knee is straight! Oh, but I have to walk there? Forget it!

After the whole ordeal, ending up in a wheelchair and getting a new knee brace which allows for me to bend my knee up to 30 degrees (not that much), I was beyond exhausted. While I was extremely hungry, all I could think about was getting into bed. But I still had to get into and out of the car one more time! Who knew that going to the doctor could be such an energy draining ordeal? My immediate destination was bed.

It turned out to be a great doctor's visit, though. Here's why: I got 2 stitches out, I didn't end up passing out, I get to move my leg more, I have 2 screws in my tibia and my knee looks fantastic (on the inside). The tibia thing is good because I think that's cool, and it looked awesome on the xray. Hey, on Tuesday I'm going back to hopefully really get my stitches out. Then I get to start physical therapy on Wednesday. I can't wait to walk normally again!

Comfortably Numb

Wow. This past week has been a whirlwind! I've had three knee surgeries in one (which is better than having them all separate), and though you might think pain medication and bedrest would be enjoyable, you would be wrong. Actually, it's not too bad because I just keep reminding myself it will be better soon. Other than being bored, I have nothing significant to complain about. Hopefully, today people are coming over to do some phone witnessing with me. Unfortunately, I can't really depend on anyone besides my family and Aaron. But then again, not much has changed since last week, except that now my leg can't bend.

I will say this, anonymous commenter who shall be unveiled in the near future (I will unmask you, if it's the last thing I do...*evil laugh*), it has been enjoyable and surprising seeing just how many people do care about me. I've had more visitors than I thought I would, and way more phone calls than I ever imagined possible! A girl from work sent me some bubbles and another girl from work sent me some cookies!

It's sad that all I look forward to now is a doctor's appointment. Strangely enough, it will come quicker than I think it will. Thursday. Sweet glorious Thursday. The sound makes my heart want to sing and dance. Ha. Speaking of dancing, I had dream last night that I went salsa dancing. It was fun, and highly unrealistic. In my dream, my leg started hurting really bad which prompted me to tell whoever was with me that I had just had knee surgery and shouldn't have been dancing. Interesting, considering it takes me 15 minutes to get to the bathroom and back...on crutches...with help! It was nice to get some dancing shoes on again, no matter if they were imaginary.

Anyway, on Thursday, I will be requesting...begging...we leave early to go to Starbucks. I was looking at my last entry longingly, wishing I could sit in that coffee shop with a ceramic mug of delicious heavenly nectar.

****Daydream****

I think it might happen. I'll let you know. In the mean time, let me know if I should post that gorey picture of my leg.

Bowl of Spanish-Speaking Idahoans

I found it ironic that I've been spending some time recently searching for people who speak Spanish. It's only funny because I traveled to Mexico to search for English-speaking people. I was in Twin Falls this weekend to visit Kelsey and we went in service with her Spanish congregation. We had lunch at a Mexican market that has a little restaurant in it. I haven't had flautas that good since Hilda made them for me in Arizona...4 years ago! Their local coffee shop is called Java, and I guess it's quite the hippie hang out. Interestingly, one of the hippies that works there runs his own farm as well. Anyone else think that's strange?

You had to know it would come up: what I had to drink. They have a beverage there called "Bowl of Soul." When you drink it "for here," they literally serve it in a bowl, not a mug. Of course, I made Kelsey take me there before service so we could fully take in the atmosphere. Basically, I didn't want to drink my Bowl of Soul in a cup. Wouldn't that just be ridiculous?!?

Again, I found it quite enjoyable to travel solo. Just me and Mr. Pea Pod (my iPod). I stopped only when I needed to, and, yes, I sang so loud the windows almost shattered. Ah, the beauty of being alone. I hope I'll have more to write about during the next few months, but not much excitement will be happening. Maybe I'll post a picture of my sliced-up knee...

Let me know what you think.

Nostaligia Isn't What It Used to Be

Have you ever tried to self examine? I ask myself, "How do I feel about that and why?" The answer I always come back with is "I don't know." I wish I could express how I feel right now. I guess it's just like my feet are stuck in concrete, and I'm watching everyone skate past. That's it. It seemed for awhile I was ahead of my peers, growing up faster and doing more things better than everyone else. But maybe that was the problem. Maybe they were just waiting for the concrete to dry, as I hopped right in.

Nostalgia usually ends in heartache for me. It seems that anytime I look back on my life I have nothing but bitter regrets. Where do I go from here? Could someone break the concrete so I can catch up with everyone else?

History Applied to the Present

On the Oregon Trail, travelers moving west had to carefully pack their wagons so they could make it safely. If they packed too much in their wagons, they would need to discard some of their belongings on the side of the road. If they chose not to discard anything, their wagon would break down, possibly leaving them vulnerable in hostile territory, or at the very least leaving them alone to slowly die. The best thing they could have done was to not pack too much in the first place.

This can relate to us today in this materialistic world. The temptation is to gather as many belongings as we can, thinking this is what will bring us real happiness. However, when things get tough, those material posessions are what weigh us down further. If we live life now with as little as possible in our "wagons," we will make it safely to our destination: paradise!

It's All English to Me

So the other day, I was in Wal-Mart, which is where some of America's scummiest families shop (at least in Pocatello, anyway). That might sound somewhat judgemental, but listen to my most recent experience.

My sister and I were waiting in line at the self checkout. The register to our right was occupied by a nice-looking Hispanic couple. They couldn't have spoken very good English, since they had the machine speaking Spanish. To our left was a white man with his maybe 10-year old daughter. I could tell he had quite the temper on him, especially after seeing the look of terror in the young girl's eyes whenever her father would speak to her. As the Hispanic couple finished putting their groceries back in their cart, April and I moved up to begin our transaction. It was then that my little faith in the integrity of mankind was put even further to the test. I stood in shock as the angry man caught sight of the Hispanic couple leaving and said "Bye bye, spics," and even began singing the Mexican Hat Dance and laughing at them! I was frozen, chin on the ground, heart in my throat, and every muscle in my body tensed. How was it possible that, in the year 2009, someone could be so racially intolerant?

Here's the kicker: this situation was much more ridiculous than I let on originally. This angry man was having quite the difficult time with the self checkout register. This was painfully obvious as the machine continually said to him "Please place the item in the bag," "Remove the last item from the bagging area," and "Please wait for assistance." As the man cursed profusely at the inanimate object in front of him, mocked the innocent passers-by (thankfully they didn't hear him) and yelled at his poor daughter, I realized the irony of the situation. Only an ignorant, self-centered racist would humiliate someone because of their race when he himself is severely lacking smarts.

The Best Culture

I think one of the main reasons why I love traveling is diversity. In our differences, I think that humans should be able to grow together. However, everywhere I go, I see quite the opposite. How is it possible that we, the human race, have dwelled together for several thousands of years and still can’t seem to get along? Why do people feel the need to put others down for their differences? For example, in American culture, the custom of greeting is usually a handshake, a wave or maybe as little as a nod, even among good friends. In Mexican culture, however, greetings are much more intimate. At the very least, they shake hands, hug or possibly even kiss, even sometimes when greeting complete strangers. So which is better? My issue is that the question of which is better even exists. Why do I have to say “Mexican culture is much more loving” or “American customs are much safer," thus making either or better than the other?

One reason there is such a misunderstanding is that a lot of us spend our whole lives within the confines of our self-made fences. Many people never travel outside their home countries, home states, hometowns. The United States alone has so many differences just from state to state. I firmly believe that if everyone just once stood in the shoes of “the outsider,” each one of us would be more considerate and open to others’ cultures and customs.

What I ask everyone reading this to do is this: take a moment to imagine how you would feel, alone, in a foreign country. You don’t speak their language. You don’t understand their customs. Your only way of communicating is in English and whatever miming you can muster up, and not a soul understands you. Then, on top of it all, someone says something you do understand: "You’re in my country, speak my language.” Ouch. Yet, that is what so many foreigners in the States face each day. Have you ever said that to someone? Have you ever thought it?

“People need to see that, far from being an obstacle,

the world’s diversity of languages, religions and traditions,

is a great treasure affording us precious opportunities

to recognize ourselves in others.”
-Youssou N’Dour, Musician

I couldn’t have said how I feel any better. (Pretty insightful for a Starbucks cup, huh?) Want my advice? Look outside yourself and see things from another perspective. Put yourself in their situation, and be part of the solution instead of the problem. It just might make you a better person.

Good News!

This document is a photo of the original application

for Auxiliary Pioneering,

signed by Elizabeth Ruesch on this the

26th day of February, 2009

My heart is rejoicing!

Clouds in My Coffee

Last night, we went to a restaurant in Porterville, the Black Bear Diner, to see Brian and Debbie (for those of you who don't know, they are long-time friends of my family). It was great to catch up and even to get to know them better. Debbie is still at the same job she's been in for 16 years! Brian is working as a secretary, and his wife let him use zebra striped reading glasses to see the menu. Brian!!! He's changed so much I can hardly believe it! (By the way, dad, you can't really tell in the picture because I took it with my camera phone, but Brian's hair is SHORT!)

I can't believe what an opportunity I've had even to get to know Liz better. She's still had to work but we have been spending tons of time together. Today I got to go in service with a local congregation in Visalia, the Walnut Grove Congregation. What friendly and inviting brothers! One brother told me at least four times to be sure send love from their congregation to mine. I've only been there once! For service, I got to go with a sister named Gina who is visiting from Green Bay, Brandi who is a native "Visalian", and Maria who was born in Arizona. We quickly became friends as we walked door-to-door. We took a coffee break at a local coffee shop called Tazerria.

Maria is amazing! I loved all of the stories she told me. For example, one was an experience of a man who was really rude to Jehovah's Witnesses. At one visit he told the brothers at his door that he didn't want Witnesses to come by anymore and that if they did he would hurt them very badly. Sure enough, when Witnesses visited him the next time he went to get a knife and started slashing one of the brothers' legs. He hurt the brother so badly that two others had to carry him away. When he arrived at the emergency room, he simply said that the injury had taken place while he was in the work that he does. Never did the brother tell authorities who had done this to him. Meanwhile, the man was at home waiting for the police to come to his house, but they never came. Months passed before the man saw Witnesses in his neighborhood again, but when he did, he noticed they avoided his house. He went outside, which only caused the brothers to run away from him. He called out to them, saying "Please, come back, teach me whatever you're teaching people." He began studying and even advanced to the point of baptism. The day of his baptism, waiting in line, he saw the brother whose leg he had slashed. That brother was in a wheelchair because the doctors were unable to save his foot. The man rushed over to the brother in the wheelchair, fell on his knees and began crying at the sight of what he had done, begging for his forgiveness. He said he couldn't get baptized until he knew he had been forgiven. Needless to say, the man got baptized that day, as his brother looked on.

Maria invited me to go to lunch with her at a Taqueria in Downtown Visalia. Since my favorite Mexican food is Tacos Asadas, she immediately thought of this place. When we got there, we were greeted by a few witnesses who had also been taking a lunch during service. One of the sisters knows a family in Preston. Small world, I guess. Anyway, when Maria and went up to order, the man behind the counter asked if we worked with those other ladies. "Yes, we do," I responded. We proceded to enjoy what were possibly the best tacos asadas I've ever tasted. Then I thought it would be a good idea to try and talk to the man behind the counter about what it is that we do in our "work." He was very happy to receive the magazines about Mary and about water. I doubt Maria will have difficulties finding people to go with her to talk with that man again!

I met back for service that afternoon and was even further encouraged. My group consisted of Rosandra who was born and raised in Visalia, Carrie, and Joellyn the Circuit Overseer's wife. Did I mention Walnut Grove Congregation is enjoying their Circuit Overseer's visit this week? Well, I'm enjoying it too! Anyway, I was talking to a couple sisters and they related an illustration from the 2-day assembly. Two men were riding along on a country road in their horse-drawn buggy. All of the sudden, the horse, whose name is Buddy, slipped on some rocks and the whole buggy went careening into a ditch. When the one man got himself out of the ditch, he then turned his attention to getting the horse and buggy out. So he said, "Come on, Betsy!" But the horse didn't move. Then he said, "Come on, Charlie!" But the horse didn't move. Then he said, "Come on, Buddy!" And the horse mustered all of its might to pull itself and the buggy out of the ditch. When the other man asked "Why did you call your horse the wrong name twice?" the other man replied, "I didn't want him to think he was doing the work by himself!" The moral? Sometimes we might think we're working all by ourselves, but we're surrounded by helpers. Even if we're in service all alone, the angels are there with us the whole way along. Because of that unseen help, we are strong enough to continue. Anyway, this last picture on the right is Randy and Joellyn Meadows. They worked unassigned territory in Soda Springs back in 1981! Yet again, small world.

So now, I'm resting my poor feet from a long day of walking and dancing (we just got finished with our Salsa lesson). Speaking of which, I think we should get together, April, Maddy, Aaron, and whoever else would like to go, and do a dance lesson. It was super fun and they break it down so it's easy to learn. After just two classes, I'm hooked. Sorry, guys. Anyway, it's time to finally relax and get ready for a new day of adventures.

With much love,

Katie

Enjoyable Studytime

I'm really excited today! We have the family study this afternoon in Exeter where Liz's family lives. The only problem with that is I will have to pretend that I speak better Spanish than I do because Bertha doesn't hardly speak English. After that, we will go a little further to Porterville to see Brian and Debbie! I can't wait to see them because it has been at least 5 years since I've seen Brian and much much longer since I've seen Debbie. Let me take a moment to catch you up with what's been going on. Speaking of which, I finally got the karaoke videos to post! They're on the post that will show up right below this one. Oh yeah, and the picture of my cat is there because I kept forgetting my camera yesterday, and plus, he's stinkin' adorable!

Yesterday, Liz and I were planning on going out in service. We woke up a little bit late and were worried we wouldn't make it to her congregation in time since it takes about 20-30 minutes, so we decided to go with a congregation in Visalia. There are two halls, but we went to the one on a street called Lover's Lane (how hilarious, huh?). It happened to be the Spanish congregation, and we ended up going with a sweet little older sister named Estella. We were on our way to her study when she told us that she's a pioneer and always goes in service at 6am every morning. I don't know if I told you this, but when we made Liz's schedule we found that she would need to go out at least twice a week at 6 am before work. When Liz told that to Estella, she said that she would love to go have a companion during the early mornings and that she would be like another mom to Liz. What a wonderful sister! She didn't know it, but she was an answer to our prayers. Just the night before, Liz and I had been talking about the privilege of Pioneering and how she's been wanting to do it for a long time. As soon as she decided she would definitely sign up, Jehovah provided her with the means to do it!

Both of us, beaming and slightly teary-eyed, went on the study with Estella. It was a fantastic study and the lady, Basilia, is a very genuine woman who is progressing in her knowledge very well! Afterward, we went to In-and-Out for lunch (my idea, of course). Don't worry, April...while I have had a few sodas, I've been mostly drinking Iced Tea because it tastes so amazing here! The rest of our day was spent doing a little shopping, including Target (loving that!) and JoAnn's Fabric (not loving that so much) as well as going to the bank and even getting a few more things for my dinner.

I cooked dinner last night: speghetti, bread, garlic butter and Liz made a fresh fruit salad. It was great. Jeremiah said he hated it, because that's how he rolls, but he then proceeded to "hate" two full plates... We watched a movie together: The Terminal. Phenomenal movie, in case you haven't seen it. I think it would make a huge impact on Americans if they made it in some obscure language, like Farsi, and had the tourist be English-speaking. Then I think Americans would understand how difficult it can be to be in a new country where you don't speak the language and no one speaks your language. The way people just talk normally, as if you could understand them if you really wanted to. The way people treat you like you're not really a person if you don't speak their language. It's really quite demeaning the way immigrants and foreigners are treated in the States, all because we're just too ignorant to appreciate their situation. Now I will step off of my soap box...

So, Liz and I enjoyed a 2-hour study session last night. We studied the oral review together, and I feel confident in commenting on a few of them. Everyone, I'm having a great time, and I want you all to know that I am addicted to traveling. Cool things always happen when I travel to new places. For example, I am at Starbucks right now (big surprise) and I just met a nice old man who asked if I knew where an IRS office is locally. Of course, I didn't, but I found him one on the Internet. Then he made a phone call and I noticed he was speaking in Spanish! We started chatting in Spanish, and it turns out he was born in Tempe, AZ! What are the chances? Tried as I did to do the contrary, I couldn't help but overhear him say a few things on the phone that made me think he was a Witness. In talking to him, then, I tried to find out if he was. I found a way to work it into the conversation that I am one of Jehovah's Witnesses, but he never said he was too. Oh well, coincidences don't happen everyday, right? So, until tomorrow, I suppose my adventure will progress, and you all will wait in desperate anticipation of what is to come!

Les Amo, mi familita!

Katie

Sweet-Sounding Karaoke

'Ello my lovely family!

I write to you today on very little sleep. However, I have broken a barrier that I honestly never thought I would. That's right, I broke the space-time continuum barrier! Just kidding, of course, but I did sing karaoke...I know, right????

Here's what happened: After we went to the aquarium, Liz and I walked around town a little bit (Sandra wasn't feeling well, so she rested for awhile). We found this awesome candle shop where the guy carves them into cool designs and...it's hard to explain, but I got his business card so we can check it out online. While we were out, we thought we'd look for where we might eat dinner. There it was, flashing disco lights and all, on the corner of Prescott and Cannery Row...a little corner shack pizza place. Oh yeah, and they have karaoke on the weekends. It took surprisingly little convincing to get Liz to agree that it might be fun! So off we went to talk Sandra into a night on the town. After a few practice runs at the hotel and a whole lot of primping (just kidding), we were pumped and ready to embarrass ourselves in front of complete strangers.

Before I show you the songs, I need to mention that the picture on the left here is some guy totally hitting on Sandra. The songs started out pretty tame, some even lame. Here's one guy who sang a couple times. I feel that any comment I make would further incriminate me...listen at your own risk.

But we sought to liven things up with our sweet rendition of La Bamba. It probably would have stunk if we hadn't added our tantalizing dance moves (ripped straight from "Twist and Shout") and wicked vocals, complete with the whole Mexican cat call thing. That's when the party really got started. Sandy was hooked from that point on and immediately put in her song request (much to my surprise and delight, it was some fantastic rock). The one request we had received when word of this song expedition spread home was "Please sing Dancing Queen." This one's for mom: Liz and I were called to the mic. A brief moment of silence hushed through the restaurant. The lyric screen flashed "Dancing Queen" as the music began blazing the eager ears of all those present. A second passed. The crowd was on their feet, roaring, dancing, cat calling. Liz and I rock the house with 4 minutes of musical happiness. At one point, we did have people behind us swaying to the song, singing along. Feel free to check it out.

So we didn't sound the greatest...who cares? We had so much fun and the crowd really loved it! It was around 12:30 by the time we finally left. The bed was super comfy, even with three of us, and we all slept great for what little time we had to sleep. We needed to get up early this morning to get to the meeting in Monterey at 9:30.

The Public Talk this morning was phenomonal! The brother related thrilling experiences and used such wonderful illustrations that I got goosebumps more than once. The talk was based on Galatians 5:22 about the fruits of the spirit, but especially joy (how to gain and keep our joy in serving Jehovah). One of the experiences was of an elderly Catholic woman who was regular in attending church. When her husband died, she eagerly sought answers to where her husband was now. Her priest told her that, since her husband had not been so faithful in attending church, he was in purgatory but that her faithful attendence and generous donations would keep him out of hell and possibly move him to heaven. When the Witnesses came to her house, she asked them the same questions and received more logical answers that were based on the Bible. She learned the real condition of the dead, and decided to discontinue membership with the Catholic Church. When she told her priest about this, he was furious! "Right now, an angel is in purgatory, holding your husband by the hair of his head. If you stop attending this congregation," he threatened, "that angel will drop your husband into the burning lake of fire!" The woman replied with a smile on her face, "Well now I know you're lying. My husband was bald!"

After enjoying our spiritual food, we were pretty hungry. We decided to eat at a little place in town that we could get to after taking a short drive along the shore. Of course, that sort of drive never ends quickly as we just had to get out and enjoy the beach. We picked up some really cool shells and explored the strange sea life in the rocks nearby. It was quite fun, but it was also time for lunch so we left for the restaurant. After eating, we headed home. It was the lovely calming end to a fantastically exciting weekend!!

Love,

Kate

Pictures of Monterey

Can you see the flatfish? They camoflauge themselves!