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Honey, if you love me, you'll smile...

For a while I knew pizza day was coming. Initially I thought I would be making 30 pizzas. 30 pizzas is a daunting task for most people, however our pizza situation was even more daunting with our tiny ovens.

When the day began approaching I found out I only needed to make about 15 pizzas. Music to my ears, that was.

The pizzas were for the youth at my church. A fellowship activity--just to simply enjoy one another's company. It definitely was joyful.

I created, with a team of my Mongolian friends, a little pizza shop [or factory] in one of the classrooms at my church

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When the pizzas were finished we all gathered to watch a wonderful performance of Tektonic--the dance craze of the millennium. If you don't know what that is, you should educate yourself here.

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And after we enjoyed our 15 delicious very meat-y [about 3 kilograms of meat] pizzas, we played Honey, if you love, you'll smile. After some hesitation about playing, they realized that it was a ridiculous and fun game that they would very much enjoy. We played for almost an entire hour and might have played even longer if time had permitted.

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All in all, it was a good Sunday.

Comments

  1. Ah I love all of these pictures!

    Also, why no microwave story? :-)

    ReplyDelete

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An ode to my wiser self

I've been thinking about blogging a lot lately. Well, writing, rather. I used to write a lot. It was therapeutic and life giving for me. It helped me to be in a constant state of process where I was not just taking in life but searching for and digging for meaning. It kept me grounded and real, for lack of better word.

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Here is an ode to my younger (and probably wiser) self:


Welcome to The Chronicles of a Confused Citizen.

Here I am, residing in the country I was born in, living the life I knew from my birth to year 22.

It doesn't quite feel right, though.

Recently, as I found myself living in Mongolia, I started feelin…

bring it on, world.

October 26, 2011.

That is the day I last wrote a blog. That's not the day when my life changed but it is a day that I can recognize as one of the last ones when I knew who I was and what my purpose was.

I'm not generally a quitter. Sure, sometimes I quit on books or I quit on small projects but in life, nope. I  try hard at most things, usually right until the end. I won't say that quitting is not a thought that meanders through my being when something gets tough but I have come to learn that when I stick things out I come out having learned a thing or two.

But I did quit. I quit a big commitment. I said I would live in Washington, DC and I would do my best.

I tried. I also had my very first panic attack, too.

It was too much. I couldn't think or breathe. I couldn't cope with the devastation I felt for leaving Mongolia early that March morning. I couldn't cope with no one understanding what Mongolia had meant to me and how it had changed me right down to my bo…