So there's this gorgeous 74-year-old woman who lives across the street from me--been livin' there longer than my parents and I have been livin' in this house, and every time I come home, I make the effort to go talk to her. I always dread it at first because, well, I'm a sucky conversationalist (which doesn't even matter because our conversations are always great) and I hate phoning her (which is stupid because she always picks up and always tells me "Yeah, come on over!" or "Yeah, I'll be ready for you in 20!"). But of course, everything works out in the end.
Every time I finish a conversation with her, I learn something new and I smile. She's always telling me to count my blessings: I have loving parents who are still together (and I should always always always show them my gratitude), I wasn't born out of wedlock, and I have a relationship with Papa. Our conversations also almost always include knowing my relationship to Father because without that, I can't do anything. Now, I'm a Christian and Mrs. G's a Mormon, but our ideologies match fairly well. This time around, she reminded me to "La ti da"--whatever happens, happens--Hakuna Matata. Using humor in my future classroom (especially the much too near future for student teaching) and that adaptability will make my life so much easier.
Also, apparently I can buy really pretty cards at some place called Papyrus. Some of which are $20.
Anyways, another conversation, another lesson learned. Thanks again, Mrs. G. Love you!
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