Okay, okay, so more than two days have gone by. Sigh! Some people just have to take you seriously and then bug you when you don't live up to their expectations.

I won't mention any names, of course.

Just to give you something to look at, here's a picture of me eating Easter dinner in Bolivia with one of our oldest church members, a Quechua Indian man named Sebastián, who is 85 years old. The sun was pretty bright, so I was glad for my hat, and I experienced what Faith Hemmeter told me years ago: The sun shines brightly and may feel hot right on your body, but it doesn't really heat up the air around you in the high altitude, especially as winter is coming on.

Our meal consisted of fried chicken and boiled potatoes, a boiled plátano (frying banana), salad (which I didn't eat, since I didn't know if the lettuce had been properly cleaned), and Pepsi papaya. Chuckle on that one. We didn't have the fruit, papaya. In Bolivia, in the common parlance, a soft drink is called a papaya, they think because the very first soft drink in the country was of papaya flavor and had a picture of a papaya on the label. Of such odd instances are interesting language terms born.

No forks or spoons, as you can see, so we ate with the original utensils that God gave us. They're pretty efficient!