Unleavened life

This is my second time tonight to type this entire thing. The first one somehow didn't publish, and didn't save. How defeating.

Saturday night was loud and long and yet rest alluded me for what seemed like hours. Somewhere relatively close to here there was a happenin' party. That joint was jumpin. All night one continuous song played. The kind of upbeat Mariachi you might dance to, workout to, or in this case, lay awake to. Sprinkle in a few (by a few I mean a few every 3 or 4 seconds) fireworks (the kind expected on the fourth of July) shot off so close the windows would rattle, and the never ending chorus of dogs in protest of the loud noises. It was a night to remember.

Sunday came and by a grace and strength only divine, I was energized and ready for the day. I was excited to take my first batch of communion bread to the assembly. It is neat to have been entrusted with something so important to the fellowship. Zach had the opening prayer, so we made sure to be early (even by standards in the U.S.) Which landed us there before even the chairs had been set out. We helped and greeted and as I located a seat with one to save for Zach, a boy from the youth group joined me. He is a really nice kid - just turned 15 on Thursday. We talked - he talked slow enough that I could understand and respond - and apart from accidentally telling him I had been to a Red Hot Chili Peppers concert, I don't think I made any big mistakes. He comes every Sunday alone, his parents don't go to church. We sat together and then Zach joined us. Neither Zach's prayer nor my communion bread disrupted anything. After worship Zach took the youth group to the class room and had a short class about the Crucifixion and Barabbas being traded for Jesus. The Son of God for the "son of god."
After class we invited Pedro and Miguel to come over later for pizza. Jose wanted to watch me make pizza and probably wanted to eat it even more than that. Zach and I set off in the direction of the grocery. We needed mozzarella, pepperonis, sauce, vegetable oil, and yeast. This proved to be quite a difficult task. The standards of customer service are much different here than at walmart or kroger in the states. In fact, the cheese lady gestured that the cheese was "probably over there" and the lady over there disagreed saying it would definitely be "over there." Over there we found a lady who nodded and came back a moment later with deli meat in her hand. Oops, we wanted cheese. Disappointed she took her meat back and pointed back "over there." This is the point in which the little kid inside of me just prayed that God would please make the mozzarella glow highlighter yellow (with no unfortunate side-effects). And we did find it. Right in front of the cheese lady. The vegetable oil and sauce were no hard task. The yeast however is, much like sleep, allusive. We ask and the guy tells us its on the shelf. Clearly it isn't, so we ask again. "If it isn't there, there isn't any" he tells us. We ask a kind and innocent by-stander who looks as though she might have bought yeast before. She tells us that sometimes they put it in the refrigerated section by the yogurt. Yogurt is unleavened here. We ask the lady working by the yogurt and she tells us to try a bakery down the road a few blocks. We check out and head down the road. When we enter the bakery and ask for some yeast. The lady kind of chuckles and tells us that they bake bread here, but they don't sell things to make it. She tells us that we should go to the supermarket up the road a few blocks. Zach explains to her that is where we just came from and the dilemma we had there. With sympathy in here eyes she excuses herself to consult with a co-worker. After a moment she asks me how much we need, and disappears to the back. In the few moments she is gone, Zach is overcome by the sweet smells and begins hunting for a few selections. We make our purchases, and the half-cup of yeast she has brought out for us only costs us 10 pesos. I assure Zach that is cheaper than anywhere else - perhaps in the whole world. We catch a bus and make it home, only to turn around and go to town for some lunch. We eat at a nice restaurant in Tule that Zach tells me "has authentic Mexican food in an environment Americans can trust" The food is good. So is the nap after. When I wake up almost two hours have passed and our guests have arrived. I start the dough, knowing it will take an hour to rise. We play guitar hero and watch youtube videos and I manage to keep the hungry, nosy, and impatient hands out of the rising dough...for the most part. While waiting for the dough I decide to try my hand at Grandma Caton's brownie recipe again. The batter turns out "perfectly" Zach says. I am wary about cooking them knowing the wrestle the oven and I had last time. But I have plenty of time to figure out the right place to turn the dial to have the thermometer stay at 350 while I am rolling out the dough. Sauced, cheesed and pepperonied, I put the first pizza in. After it comes out I pop the second one in (having had the foresight that just one batch would not be enough) Hardly before the hot pan is carried to the table, the boys devour the entire thing. The assure me that it is delicous - even though they squirt ketchup all over it. The second one suffers the same fate with only one slice saved for Pedro and Miguel to take home to Lulu. The brownies go in and come out and look great! I am excited to have had such a successful baking day. It looks as though the rest of the gang is happy and content. Jose having beat a few songs on expert, Pedro having shown us some quite hilarious youtube videos and. It turns out to be a good night. The brownies are a real hit, and much to Zach's approval there are plenty left over for later.