Taieno is out and about on her mission in South Houston, Texas, Speaking Spanish.

Is anyone reading here? If you are and want her address send email to her or post a comment and I'll get it to you. If anyone is reading, I can post pics and such as well. If she ever sends any.

This is a comment we received from her recent bishop:

Dear Bro & Sis Kaiser, I'm Bishop Wells of the Houston 2nd Ward. I wanted to write and tell you that Sis Kaiser did a wonderful job speaking in Sacrament Meeting today. She spoke about the atonement and was masterful. Her Spanish is excellent. You would have been very proud of her. Bishop Wells."

Which is pretty amazing because for the previous two transfers she was in an English speaking mission and didn't speak much Spanish. But that's my child!

Lemme know if there is anyone out there.

Hello World!

Oh hey. So, just so everyone knows. I live back at home, I'm working on my mission papers, I just need the interviews. I work on a paper by day and shenanagin by night. My hands are almost normal. The rest of my skin is normal. My family is great. My friends are great. All around, life is good. And I will be starting a new series shortly, possibly called The Coworker Chronicles. I look forward to blogging again!

So You Know

Basically, this is a post to tell the winternet that I'm still alive. It thinks I died. But I didn't. I'm still breathing and stuff. Maybe when I have more time I'll say something entertaining.

Asdghweilgwegmooghshy

I am the most apathetic person in the whole world. I have a paper about a paper due tomorrow. I still don't really officially have a topic. I.e. I haven't even kind of started to do things. I'm going to die. I have a programming midterm this week. I don't know how to program. I have a quiz. I don't know how to read. I have another quiz. I still don't know how to read. And I just don wanna. I'm going to fail. There's nothing for it. I should just get married, pregnant, and drop out. Quick, find me an engineer! Oh wait, they're everywhere. There are even a few I've been dating. Well that makes this easier. Who needs an education? Who needs to do all this work? I'm going to drop out, sit on my donkey, watch tv, eat milk duds, and expect someone else to provide for me. Because I'm entitled to it. Oh wait, no. Dang. I guess instead I'll just spew on this blog, buckle down, and hit this thing. Carefully, and with much thought, of course. Though I may still eat some milk duds.... Shhh.... At least I look good, because I put on clothes in an attempt to make myself feel like I was doing things. I like water. It's delicious. Wish me luck, here I go!

Shooom! (that was the sound effect of beginning to get to this paper thing, as well as managing my time well enough to not fail my quizzes and midterm).

Chapter 63: In Which I Encounter A Bucket, And Forget My Binder

This all begins at 5 am. False. Earlier than that. Point is, I get up early. Early early early, especially given last night's bedtime, plus yesterday. So. I'm tired. I finish with my Early Christianity class, where by the end, every blink was practically sending me to sleep. I walk outside with my mother. It's a lovely day. We chat. I'm almost falling over. We say goodbye, and I go to lie in the lovely shade/sun mix off yonder. I lay down. It gets darker. I hope the sun will come back out. The wind picks up. I hope it'll stop. I hear thunder. I think I should go inside. I don't. I'm tired. I think this several times, as the elemental behaviors slowly escalate. But I don't, because I'm a dweeb. Then, without warning or build up, it is absolutely POURING rain. Dumping a bucket. I dash inside. Go upstairs to the comfy benches where I sleep. Set my stuff down. Realize that my binder with my pens, pencils, papers, and all purpose notebook with all lectures from all classes, was not with me. I had been using it as a pillow, and in my mad dashing, had left it. Outside. On the lawn. In the rain bucket dump. I run down the stairs, dash outside, realize that in the space of 4 minutes, the dumping has been reduced to hardly a drizzle (thus the singular of "bucket"), run to where I was trying to nap, and pick up my binder. 'Tis rather wet. I take it inside, go back to the rest of my stuff. Plop it down on the table, and look at it. Exchanged sympathetic glances and "Hey" with the girl sitting across from me. Feel it. Pray that my stuff wasn't ruined. I open it, and all is well! Nothing is wet! Sure, my hand leaves a wet print on the outside, but undamaged by water are the insides. I myself am rather damp.
So it's one of those days. I slept on my hair wet last night, and had super high hair this morning. Didn't look crazy, like the exotic male bird hair that usually happens when I do that. Just tall. But I also need a trim, so that back is long and I look like a teenage boy from the 80's. So I have goofy hair, I'm very wet, my binder is wet, I didn't get my nap, my feet kill, and I have no lunch (just snacks. No vegetables though. My life is hard).
But I still have my lecture notes, and I'm not dead, asleep, or starving, which is good because my next class starts in 10 minutes.

A Little More Latin Than Necessary (Part 4)

This past week has been full of dancing. Latin dancing twice and country dancing once. Thursdays are still the best, naturally. This means that I was really excited to go, which I did and was there for two plus hours, and never sat out a dance. It was once again, a surreal evening. It started out perfectly normal. I danced with the same fellows I usually danced with, it was great fun, etc etc. Then a guy that I dance with frequently, who has offered to car pool to Salt Lake with me who got my number last week, and forgot to save it got my number again. Then there was this other guy that I know who I've been dancing with for quite awhile, who also got my number, because he likes me. I'm never sure how to feel about these things. Anywho, we're up to four twenty-five year old Latinos with my number. Again, not sure how to feel about this. This is still just a tad strange, rather than surreal, and still fun. Then another guy who is very nice and very short and older (I think) asked me about my Spanish, and told me that a) I need to practice my Spanish and b) I needed to come next week. Which I tend to do anyway, but whatever. Anywho. So by the time that I'm dying of tiredness and ready to leave, I have three guys closing in on me after every dance for the next one, which is a bit surreal. So finally I'm dying of tiredness and I need to leave. So I do. Then this guy in a car is like, "Hey! Do you remember me?" I went over to talk to him, because I thought he was a guy who taught salsa in Salt Lake and had talked to me about the team he was putting together in Provo. False. I did not know this until after he was old and went all seductive on me. Basically, that's when things got REALLY surreal, as this old Peruvian guy who I thought I knew but didn't went all seductive on me. And... yeah. Super weird. Very odd. Just very very very odd. And he wanted to go dancing with me on Friday. And he emailed me. But I didn't have access to my internet. Which is okay, cuz it was really strange. So then I went on Friday. But I went with my friend from my ward in Illinois who doesn't ever dance, and I was just wearing what I'd been wearing that day. I realized in the middle of it that I looked like a boy, as a guy who always asked me to dance looked right at me and walked by. So when I took my friend home I changed out of my giant man plaid shirt and put on heels and earrings. Which didn't really help. So I went home and slept. But then I went country dancing last night, because you can never go dancing too many times in a week. And it was fun, but doesn't have as much variety as Latin dancing. So. Still my favorite so far.

Moral of the story: avoid old Peruvian guys who you think you know but it turns out you don't :)

I'm OLD!

You know how when you spend too much time in water your skin wrinkles and you get all pruny? I once had a friend tell me about a time as a small one that she went swimming. She was in the water for a really long time, and upon getting out noticed the pruniness of her skin. She turns to her mother, and in almost tearful horror says, "Mom! I'm OLD." The implication here being that as old people are wrinkly, if you're wrinkly you're old. So, if old people take a lot of pills, and I take a lot of pills, then I'm old. Veritably ancient, as it were. It's around 8:30 in the morning, and I've already taken 7 pills. Supplements, for the most part, but still. What kind of a diseased human being takes so many stinkin' little capsules?! My poor throat gets tired. "Gosh, another one? That's the 30th pill in three days. Give it a rest, will ya? I'm sick of this. Eat some yogurt or ice cream or something." Needless to say, my throat doesn't really appreciate them ("Needless to say" is such an odd lead in to something that you are most definitely going so say.... (also, I'm willing to bet the phrase "A run for your money" originates in horse racing (or something of the sort))). I think my body does though. My skin (except on my hands) has almost achieved normality! Wooo! Go skin! Also, I am feeling well enough in the mornings to do a few exercises without wanting to die. Oh yeah. Serious progress here. On an unrelated note, techno can be really boring. It is also Tuesday, which means Thursday is only two days away. And... school starts a week from tomorrow.