Wednesday, November 5, 2014

Thursday, Nov. 6

We went to branch home evening last night. It was scheduled for 5 , but Francis told me it would be, "Maybe 5:30 or 6:00." We went over at 5:30 and were only about 15 minutes late/early. 

It turned out to be a sort of going home party for Elder Lungren. His parents came to get him. Sister Rappleye turned up with her parents, so it was a double. I think everyone had a good time. 

We played games. We played Baggio, Bahay, Baboy, which translates to, storm, house, and pig. Divided into threes. . . Two face each other and take hands. One person then stands in between the hands and arms of the other two. The person in the middle is the pig. The two are the house. One person starts the game not being a Baboy, or Bahay. That person chants twice, "Baboy, Bahay, Baggio." Then he shouts one of the words. If Baboy, the pig must run to a new Bahay. If Bahay, the house dissolves and two others surround the pig. If the shout is Baggio, all three have to form a new house and pig.

If you are left out three times being part of the house or a pig,  you have to, "do a talent." I, lost three times and had a tough time thinking quickly of any talent that I might share. I burst into loud song. . . "Old Dan Tucker." I don't think anybody but the Americans understood a word, but they loved a loud song from the old fat guy.

Today we walked a little late, but it was overcast and pleasant. We talked about our fear of American attitudes toward government, election practices, hyporacy, and our fear of, and anger for Muslims. I don't care if, "not all Muslims are such and such." The radicals really put me off.  They have learned from lucifer to try and rob others of agency, particularly women. The Lord treated women specially, and so they are.

Nibley tells us that lucifer (I can't bring myself to even capitalize his name) was not kicked out because he did not agree with Father's Plan, but he brought forth violence to force his argument for not allowing agency. Being the "father of contention," lucifer is a master at the tactics he has shared with radicals everywhere and in every time period. Yes, I know, I would love to violently eradicate these trouble makers. Working on it, but I am not hopeful for this season.  I pray for an early arrival of The Lord. Hope He does not run on Filapino time.

Sister Sessions helped Sister Villavert practice baking this morning, so I went out to paint. I stopped at a place beside the beach and walked down. It was the headquarters for the Marine Sanctuary at San Jose. A guy told me, "There is a man from America, Los Angeles, who works here, right inside." He went get the guy and it turned out to be Dana, a young woman we met months ago at the track. She is with the Peace Corp and is hear to help the Filapinos save their ocean, food supply, environment. She teaches two classes a day, mostly to 5th graders. I sat in on the class. The language her does not differentiate sexes. . . He/she = siya and they use it interchangeably. When Dulito talks about Lily, he refers to her using the pronoun, he. They are working on the English.
Dana fell and hurt her knee a few days ago. I built a crutch out of bamboo and Sister Sessions and I will run it out to her when the epoxy sets. They have snorkel gear at the Marine Preserve to loan. Dana says a beautiful reef rest about 100 meters off shore. Maybe I will take a swim.

I didn't get any painting done, but I have some good pictures. Sister Villavert has a classic Polynesian, Asain, Filapina face. I snapped this pic while we sat talking, waiting for snicker doodles that I can't eat.  I will paint her portrait. I am into portraiture right now. 

I took. Few pics on the way home from the beach. I liked this doorway and see it in oil. Same for this old derelict truck.
I pulled into the cemetery because the light was so beautiful on the trees. This grave caught my eye. I am sure it was decorated on All Saints Day, a custom here. It felt funny thinking of painting here, so I went on home. 

Tomorrow we have even less to do, so perhaps we will . . . Do something good?

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