I can’t figure out why the older posts don’t show up, even in “archives”, and why we can’t get pictures on right. My girls have such snazzy blogs, but their skills are their own—they certainly didn’t get them from their parents. We are having a million adventures a day, but blogging is at the bottom of my list of things to do. The local priest stopped the elders and literally ripped their name tags in half , so now they have unique souvenirs to take home. I imagine he thought he had done something important to stop the work, but, His Honor, the Priest, only made them more determined to get the Truth to these children of Israel. Noah literally landed in Armenia, because Mr. Ararat used to be here—-now it’s in Turkey. The mountain didn’t move, but the borders did. We do have mountains of tradition and indifference, and I get the feeling that the clerks at the supermarket make fun of us every time we walk in, but we’re all trying to do our little part which will add up to having a temple here someday. And we all hope that they will honor the architecture and incorporate some of the unique design of His Honor, the Priest’s, beautiful churches.
I have to tell you something we thought was funny. I made a burrito last night for David (it was very tasty), but I made it with lavosh, so the wrapper was roughly the size of a cheap bath towel. It was so huge that when I set it before him he asked “And what are we going to name this new baby?” Have we been here too long? Is that funny at all?