Indians

I know I haven't posted in a very long time and I still don't feel like it, but here is a cool email my Sweets sent me today...it was entitled "Indians"....

I probably already told you this, but once when I was on my mission I was in an indian hogan and an old Navajo woman was teaching me how to make fry bread, and I accidentally splashed hot grease all over the place and nearly burned her face off and she yelled in a man's voice "ashkee!" which means "boy," and it startled me and almost caused me to knock the pan of hot grease off the stove. Also, she had a son or grandson (not sure which) who was only about eight, and he was confined to a wheelchair and I was pushing him around the yard as fast as I could chasing these semi-tame geese and I hit a rock that stopped the wheelchair in its tracks but the boy flew out of the wheelchair about ten yards and landed on his face in the dirt, so I hurried and picked him up and dusted him off and stuck him back in the chair, and I didn't tell the old lady because he seemed fine. Another time, our mission president came out to the rez and spent a day with us, and at the end of the day we went into this little gas station/convenience store where the mission president offered to buy us a snack. It was pretty clear that he meant like a candy bar or something, but my companion said, "oh thanks" and grabbed a box of pop tarts, two or three candy bars, and a half gallon of orange juice. When he brought it up to the counter, president Washburn looked at him like "what a freakin idiot" and they just stared at each other for a minute and my companion didn't flinch so president bought all of his crap. I won't lie though, I was happy to eat some of those pop tarts later. And we lived in a trailer out in the sage brush at the time, and somebody ran over a cow out on the highway one night and they had a hell of a time moving it off the highway.

And that is why I love my husband...he always has these sweet stories for me and keeps me entertained.