As a little break of the same boring rutine, we were asked to help out a family move a bunch of wood. So, we went and moved a whole bunch of wood from one spot to another. To better understand why, the family are carpenters and wanted to install a new machine to work more better (or something, didn't ask about the machine honestly). However, the spot they wanted to use was already occupied by other things, mostly wood. So we hauled it away. And no, we didn't burn any of it. It did cross my mind, but it appears they still wanted their wood.
At long last I finally got a little more time to use a machete, this time in our own backyard. It seems that, as we help other people, we tend to forget our own house. Such is the life of a missionary.
Something very small and almost insignificant is that peanut butter is almost unheard of here. When we talk to someone and start to mention 'mantequilla de maní' they don't know how to respond, and ask what it is. And, especally after eating so many PB&J sandwiches before, didn't think that it would make much of a difference. However, this past week I found some Bolivian peanut butter, so I leaped at the opportunity and made my own PB&J. Granted it wasn't the same as good ol' American peanut butter, it was a nice change from eating constant rice with everything.
It seems like the rapid progress we had early has slowed down a bit, as many of the people we visit with arn't married or play futbol Sundays and don't have time to come to Church with us. We did, at long last, find a family that is married, but it seems like the Hno only wants to talk about how the world will end and how to understand the book of Revelations.