You think you know but you have no idea.

Some of you know that from time to time my mind will fill up with thoughts and I find it easiest to disregard all formalities and let my thoughts spill out onto (or into?) my blog.

Every morning I take a half an hour bus ride up to the University. The bus winds through the city, picking up a wide variety of people. This morning an interesting young man got on the bus. He was wearing a coat formally worn by Himmler and his dark hair was slicked back. He sat directly behind me and when he breathed out I could taste the unfiltered cigarette he'd just smoked . . .

I now know that a jacket potato is a baked potato and not potato skins as I first thought.

I no longer have to pause for ten seconds to figure out which direction I should be looking before I cross the street.

I am constantly being told, "oh, we just entered a bad neighborhood" but I seriously think the people here don't know the definition of a bad neighborhood. They should come hang out on Hill Top for a day and they will understand. I've been here three weeks and I haven't seen any suspicious activity. Oh, except for that one time I was waiting at the bus stop and a very old man popped his head over a nearby fence and started mumbling incoherently. Disturbing but not dangerous.

I totally have a crush on Peter Segal from NPR's "Wait, Wait, Don't Tell Me!". I've thought about looking his picture up online but I think that would ruin my first radio crush.

I am meeting people with stories.

My relief society president is from Nepal. For these purposes I will call her Sariah. Sariah joined the church when she was going to school in England as a teenager and was consequently disowned by her family. After she finished school she returned to Nepal to be married. Despite the fact that she joined the church, she remained faithful to Nepal's custom of arranged marriage and was married to a Hindu man. They moved back to England and have three children. He attends church but cannot be baptized because he promised to bury his parents in proper Hindu fashion and cannot do that if he isn't Hindu.

Tina, who I went visiting teaching with last night, was married in the temple but her husband stopped attending church shortly after their marriage. She was a nurse for fifteen years but decided she had had enough. She went back to school to study interior design and has started her own business designing window treatments. Her mother has recently been diagnosed with early onset dementia and won't make it to Christmas. We spent two hours last night driving around Reading trying to find the houses of the people we visit teach. The only one home was Pam.

Pam used to be a police officer but is now paralyzed by arthritis, as well as drink. She lives in a small government flat with her cats, Miss Madam and Her Highness. Her flat smelled of cigarette smoke and cat food. She was very sweet and loved talking to us. "I can't do much, due to my arthritis, but ring if you need to talk," she said.

I played the piano in sacrament meeting the last two Sundays. Can you believe they can't find anyone better?

And a parting thought (Katherine, if you are reading this, stop, unless you have seen becoming Jane)

Becoming Jane. To my surprise, I loved it, even though it made me cry uncontrollably. People who love each other should be together. the end. And I will quote a dear friend, "Thank you for making this movie at this time in my life." Sometimes movies can inspire.

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