Monday, March 25, 2013

I'm Keeping My Baby

Hello! I hope everyone is enjoying their sunny spring in Utah! I HATE YOU ALL. It appears that winter is never ending here in the North Pole, so count your blessings, you selfish sunlight hoarders. ;) Out of the goodness of your hearts you are welcome to send me pictures of the beautiful spring I hear you're having. I'm starting to forget what color the sky is supposed to be, so send me warm thoughts please! Also, SHOUT OUT to Lauren Stookey for getting her mission call! I'm SO PROUD OF YOU! You will be the most incredible missionary. Seriously, you will LOVE the mission! Congrats!

In case you are all wondering, my greenie and I are alive and well! Oh my, what a week! It was quite a traumatic delivery for my sweet new baby, but she is an amazing missionary and has transitioned into mission life beautifully. So where to begin? I can't believe a week ago I was still with my mommy Sister Cantu. We really partied it up on our last P-day together. We went and saw the dregs of the "world-famous" ice village, as well as the ever popular Biodome. Cool stuff right here in Montreal, let me tell ya! Ha ha but no, we know how to make things fun. On Tuesday we had a farewell poutine together with the other sisters in our apartment, dinner with my favorite Parisian family in the evening, and then I had to face the fact that I was about to go from greenie to trainer in a matter of hours. Wow. Can you say waterworks?

Wednesday morning I moped and paced around the house as Sister Cantu prepared to abandon me. We listened to the mission song on repeat as we made the solemn drive to the parking lot where transfers take place. It was like this... my palms were sweaty, knees weak, arms were heave, I'm nervous. But on the surface I looked calm and ready to drop BoMs. #loseyourself. It was almost as hard as the day I left for the MTC. ...Mmm, no. JPLAY. Nothing will rival that day, but becoming the trainer of someone who has been a missionary as long as you have is a TERRIFYING experience. Fast forward to transfers though and my greenie is FABULOUS! Her name is Sister Foniciello, she's my age, about as sweet as can be, and she's from Belgium! How perfect is that?! I love her so much already. 

We went and got her first poutine with Sister Cantu's new district (in case you were wondering, yes, all we do over here is eat poutine) and after that she was allll mine! The airport lost her luggage, so for the first three days she felt homeless. I can't imagine a better start! Also, our toilet broke for the third time this month. So we take our new greenies home no clothes to call their own, no toilets to call their own. Ha ha the PERFECT orientation to the mission field!

Luckily I'm a great mama bear and have learned how to handle catastrophes like an adult since I got here. I've also learned more about plumbing than I ever wanted to know, which leads me to the drama of the week. Okay. When I first got here I soon had to become the official plumber of the house. Don't ask me why the greenie was apparently the only one capable of this task, but I'm a problem solver, so quite frequently I would hear, "FLUUUUUSH... AAAAAH! NOOOO," and then, "SISTER CUTLER! HELP!" And I could always fix the problem. Then the day of transfers comes, and I suddenly could no longer work my plumbress magic. I call the landlord, who already hated us after waking up to the sound of us hefting our Nutella-laden bodies around to Jillian Michaels one morning. She gives me some shady promise that she'll send a plumber over that afternoon, scolds me one more time about the Jillian Michaels incident, then hangs up. I think the problem is solved until that night when we return home and it indeed has NOT been solved. I won't go into details, but being toiletless was the darkest night of my life. ANYWAY, the next morning I decided to just let it flood all over the floor, and for two days that actually solved the problem. Fast forward to Saturday and it's taking on the characteristics of Mount Vesuvius again. Ugh. I call the landlord. She doesn't answer. SURPRISE! Fast forward to that evening when we return home for dinner. I'm thinking, "Is it too much to ask that I NOT get kidney stones on my mission?" when FINALLY the landlord comes over. She the takes one look at the toilet, accuses me of flushing all manner of feminine hygiene products down there, makes me empty out the tank by hand, says she can't find a plumber until Monday, and then leaves. And I'm just like, "Ohhh no she didn't! Girlfriend is about to get it." So I do the mature thing and call Sister Cannon and cry to her about how we haven't had a functioning toilet in days and that I've been doing more plumbing than missionary work since I got here and that the landlord wasn't going to fix it until Monday. SHE WAS LIVID. She calls the landlord, and MIRACULOUSLY the landlord is able to find a plumber on the weekend. In a city as big as Montreal, it is nigh unto impossible to accomplish something like this. The landlord was all kindness after the phone call from the mission president. She even offered to let us use her bathroom. What an incredibly kind solution! It turns out the entire toilet needed to be replaced, but the landlord didn't want to admit it. But hey, at least we got a sleep over at the mission home out of it! Such an adventure. It was the perfect ending to an insane week. My new companion probably thinks I'm a neurotic toilet queen, but I am seriously wearing the new toilet in the apartment like a badge of honor.

I hope everyone has an incredible week! This week should go much better than the last. Enjoy the spring and have a wonderful Easter Sunday! I love you all and miss you soooo much!


Sister Cutler

No comments:

Post a Comment