*Insert Cool Title Here*

Sick. Lovely. I woke up a couple days ago with a scratchy throat. The next day I had a spectacular headache, which had the audacity to stick around until about six in the evening. For a while I was terrified I'd somehow caught the chicken pox. I'd jump out of bed first thing in the morning and rush to the mirror, frantically probing my face for angry little red spots. I don't think I've ever been as thrilled, or relieved, to discover a new pimple in my life. Turns out it was just a mild cold, which I might have caught from Gabby. She was sick last week and I've been spending quite a bit of time with her. I'm feeling much better now, praise the Lord.

Thank you all for your prayers. This week has been a bit tougher. I've been reading Desiring God, and Romans 12. I might as well let you know that I've been failing quite miserably in my endeavors to find my joy in Christ by serving Him. What does joy mean to you? I'm not, by nature, a person given to dramatic bouts of manic depression, so I've always thought myself to be quite familiar with the attitude of joyfulness. However, I'm finding it's a struggle to serve others as though I'm serving Him. Where is the overflow of joy I should be feeling in my soul? I feel like Mexico is where God wants me to be right now. I'm trying to rest in that knowledge...and wait for Him to reveal more of Himself to me. "Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will." Romans 12:2 This whole renewing your mind business is very difficult indeed...especially for people with the caliber of impatience that I possess. Desiring God has been a challenging, and inspiring read. When Mom's not around to offer wisdom and sage advice, John Piper will just have to do. :-) Anyway, that's some of the stuff that's been floating around in my mind these past few weeks. A disorganized jumble, to be sure, but this is my blog and I reserve the right to make as much (non)sense as I please. I'm looking forward to learning the lessons God wants me to learn while I'm here.

In other news, we've been trying to potty train Nathaniel. To put it mildly, it's been a nightmare of hideous, and stinky, proportions. He categorically refuses to dump anywhere other than his diaper. Or his pants. Or his underwear. Blessedly, we tricked him into doing it on the toilet...only once. Actually, it was more due to biology than to our artful craftiness that we got him to go at all. I'll spare you the heinous details, but since that one dump on Sunday we've been lamentably unsuccessful. **sigh** I guess even the worst of them are potty trained eventually, although it looks like nature will make an exception for Nathaniel.

On Sunday we went to the beach, as a church, to play volleyball and soccer. Everyone was greatly impressed with my serve, and severely depressed with my soccer skills. I got to try a mexican specialty. Coconut slices with a light coating of freshly squeezed lime juice and smothered in a spicy chilli sauce. Good stuff. One of the ladies here keeps trying to feed me. "Flaca, es muy flaca!" she says in response to my protests. Flaca means skinny. I find it very amusing.

We spent Tuesday at La Bufadora with Sonia and Raul. (Two young people from Church.) It's a natural blowhole located in Ensenada, in Baja California. The pressure inside the small cave builds until a jet of water, hopefully 70 ft. high, erupts out the top. It's fun to guess the timing, and call the big spouts before they actually happen. (Google "natural blowhole" to get a better idea of what I'm failing to tell you about.) Legend has it that the expulsions are caused by a baby whale that has been trapped inside the small cave for decades. Kind of a stupid legend if you ask me.



The Bufadora is located at the end of a long market street. Dozens of colorful vendors line both sides of the street selling more or less the same thing. I bought a few little items that MARKY and KATIE would have absolutely no interest in. Then, something special caught my eye. I had to have it. It's not for me, so I'll just say it was a vase. Well, this was a pretty vase. I'd seen a smaller, less cute, version of it in another stall. The vendor's lowest offer had been 220 pesos. Which comes out to around 20-21 dollars. I set to thinking about it, and when I saw this bigger, more adorable version...I decided to buy it. The trick to haggling is not letting the seller know how much you'd like to buy his product. I waltzed in, casually, and began absentmindedly fingering the vase. He practically jumped me.

"37 dollars! Look, it's very good price...cost me 570 pesos!"

Fat chance. I gave him a noncommital nod.

"And for the smaller one?" I asked.

"Oh, same price. Same price." I furrowed my eyebrows.

"It's too much, I'm sorry."

"Ok, ok. For you, 34 dollars."

"Tsk, I wanted the bigger one anyway."

"Ok, how much you want to pay?" Yippee! Here comes the fun part.

"15 dollars. For the big one." His eyes widened in shock.

"Senorita, that's ridiculous! No, 30 dollars." I shrugged.

"Still too much."

"29?" I shook my head, smiled, and turned to go.

Wait for it, wait for it.

His partner intervened. "Hey, menos dos dolares!"

Gotcha!

"Ok, 27!"

I turned around. "Sorry, too much. I'll give you 20."

"25!" I shook my head.

"24."

"20."

"23?"

"20."

"22."

This is too much fun.

"Ok, here, 21 dollars."

He smiled. "Ok, good. It's a deal."

I marched over to the counter to pay for my prize.

"Twenty-one fifty?" he queried, half joking. I laughed. He smiled. I was happy with the price, although I still think he made quite the tidy profit off me. :)

The rest of the week has been fairly uneventful. I'm pretty much in charge of the kids. Still trying to get them to come to me with their squabbles instead of bugging their Mom. They like me quite a bit now, so I'm hoping their Mom will get a full break from them this week. The three boys are balls of energy. Non-stop, constant energy. If I could just find a way to bottle it and sell it... They're sweet, but they're a handful. I've caught Ruthie up on her school, and she doesn't have much left to finish. In two weeks, a busload of youth from a romanian church in Oregon are coming down to do some work in Rosarito, and at some of the orphanages in Mexicali, and Ensenada. Lord willling, I'll be working with them from July, 2 to the 11th. So, that's what's been happening so far down in Mexico.

Again, thank you all for praying for me!

Vive México

I am, without exception, the biggest wimp on planet earth. As much as I've enjoyed myself the past several days, I miss everyone back home something terrible. This Sunday was especially difficult. If all those chubby cheeks, pudgy knees, button noses, and huge brown-black eyes weren't vying for my attention, I would have been a complete and utter basketcase. Kids don't usually like me, so this was a welcome change. :-)

Narcis Dragomir, 1/6 of the missionary family I'm staying with, came to pick me up from home on Wednesday. We arrived at their home at around 7ish in the evening. They are located about 25 miles south of Tijuana, in Rosarito. I was greeted by four little blonde people. Actually, "greeted" isn't quite the word to use. Mercilessly interrogated is more like it. Even after two hours, the novelty of having a new playmate had not ceased to excite them...a word from their mother, Sarah, sent them all trooping defeatedly up the stairs, shoulders hunched, to bed.

I'm in charge of Ruthie, their oldest, who is going to turn 9 on the 30th. She's a bright girl with blue eyes and waist length blonde hair. She's incredibly smart, but, she tries to get out of doing her schoolwork at the slightest hint of an interruption. Understandably so. Doing school when there are so many visitors dropping by every day is more than a little distasteful. She's a sneaky little thing, but, as she soon found out, the tricks that worked on Mom didn't so much as dent my resolve. Been there, tried that...most of the tricks in that book were written by me anyway. (Other first-born ENTP's might have contributed a thing or two. :P) It was quite a shock to her, as she thought that she had found a friend and confidante in me, not an unyielding dictator. By the end of the second day of school, it was clear that I was the victor of the battle of wills. We're very good friends now, and we understand eachother, being the oldest in a family where boys outnumber the girls. We're both hoping she gets a sister. :-)

The little boys are really sweet. Nathaniel, 3, is still in diapers, and they've pretty much abandoned all hope of civilizing him. I help out with the housework, and babysit, and just do whatever needs to be done. On Sunday we (the youth group and I) helped move a bunch of boulders from the backyard of the house across the street. One of the guys spoke english, so I wasn't completely clueless as to what was being said. We had a lot of fun...everyone here acts like they are family. Oh, and the food is out of this world. We had tacos for lunch on Sunday. To coint a phrase...BEAST tacos. Homemade flour tortillas, served with cheesy beans, fresh guacamole, homemade salsa, and sizzling carne asada served hot off the grill. My mouth is watering just thinking about it.

On Saturday we were invited for dinner at a friend's house. Oh, my word. I have two words for you. Chiles Rellenos. They'll change your life. "Hyberbole!" you shout. "Prove it!" you demand. It's a fire roasted chilli pepper with cheese stuffed into the middle that has been dipped in flour and whipped eggs... and then fried. I'd cheerfully die of a heart attack before I ever give those up....now that I've discovered them.

By now it's become painfully obvious that I've only taken one semester of Spanish. The amount of Spanish I understand is directly proportional to the rate at which a person speaks. I can string the bits and pieces I pick up together, to get a general gist of the conversation. It takes a lot of concentration, but I get by. That's what I was trying to do after dinner on Saturday. Everyone was laughing and having a lot of fun. Every once in a while, Sarah would clue me in on what was being said. At one point during the conversation, I must have looked particularly puzzled because Narcis paused the discussion to ask me whether I understood what they were saying. Me (dubiously): "Are you guys talking about putting the kids through the car wash? " This remark, after being translated into spanish for the benefit of everyone else at the table caused a gale of laughter to erupt that took a full minute to subside. Personally, I didn't think it was that funny. They'd actually been talking about bathtime at a certain orphanage. The kids were washed using assembly line technology. All of them stand in a long line, waiting to be rinsed, scrubbed, and then rinsed again by various volunteers. C'mon, it does kinda sound like a carwash. :P People, myself included, have been getting quite a kick out of the language barrier.

On Sunday, Sarah had me help Hermana (Sister) Ruth with the four year olds. Finally, people I don't confuse! I know a few simple sentences, and the little people think I'm just great. Gabby, a chatty 4 year old, has kind of taken me under her wing. She's quite the little spit fire. And she's got a voice on her...loud enough to wake the dead. But I love her. She and the younger Dragomir kids, Joshua (5), and Nathaniel (3) get along quite well...20% of the time.

Today, we had a funeral. For Ginger...one of the family dogs. Someone ran her over. (If you think drivers in California are awful, you need to come to Mexico. They're even worse here than in Romania...and that's saying something.) It was pretty hard on the kids, especially Ruthie. It put her in a sour mood for the rest of the day. They're planning on getting a new dog by the end of the month.

That's about all the update I have time for right now...I wanted to write at least this much down before I forget. Tonight I'm babysitting the Dragomir kids and Gabby. I'm already hearing some questionable crashing and banging upstairs. No earsplitting screams though, so they must all still be alive. (I'm going to make a wonderful mother. :P) I don't really have anytime to proof read this post, so excuse any spelling errors, boring sentences, and stuff that just doesn't make any sense. Do as I do and try to catch the general gist of things. I'm missing everyone back home, and praying for everyone scattered across the States.

Shoutout to my brother from Mom: Jimmy, Mom has tried calling you and e-mailing...but it doesn't seem like you're home. She's on the verge of getting herself a Facebook account. Be a good son and e-mail her your address in TN. Thank you. :-D