TU Wesley Foundation

I would like to start out by informing you that I am not "allowed" by our "doctor" to eat most of the produce that grows in this country. For anyone familiar with my dining habits, you will note that this isn't something I would ordinarily consider a problem. It only becomes so when I find out that there is a pequeño pepper bush ( the kind with delicious peppers that are smaller than most pills) growing right outside of our apartment. Now a cook staff who is preparing dishes for 70+ little kids isn't likely to put much spice into the meals, and those given to me are the same. I am starving for spice, sated only by the peculiar appearance of a jug of Pace® Medium-Heat Salsa. Not enough. I'm being taunted every time I walk through the front door by this tantalizing, possibly debilitating pepper. The bacon served this morning was a small comfort, but not enough. More reparations are demanded.

Anyways, I've been spending the days playing TerrorBear with a gaggle of five-year-old girls. It doesn't amount to anything more than me growling a lot and chasing them until they can claim sanctuary with any of the hermanas or the female missionaries in the immediate vicinity. Fun for everyone involved. Also, I've yet to find anyone here who can beat me at tetherball. They've certainly got me beat in futbol, but if any of these little kids step inside the tetherball ring with me, they know that they're about to be dust.

With as many parts of my anatomy that already hurt, I don't feel like I should add carpal tunnel to the list, so here is the cutoff.

Sincerely,

Zach Efron.