{Not} Learning Patience & Arizonian Adventures

Honestly, I'm writing this post because I can't think of anything more interesting to write about and it's been two weeks since my last post.  I'm nearly certain that being at a loss for something to write about is a direct result of actually having time to write.  Murphy's law and all that.

So, two months ago (has it really been that long???) I visited the Sisters of St. Thomas Aquinas near Phoenix, AZ, liked it, and talked with the Sister in charge about becoming a postulant.  I was ready to enter as soon as possible, but then my long-suffering priest (a.k.a The Voice of Reason And Prudence Who Is Always Making Victoria Do Hard Things) recommended that I wait and try one more convent before making a final decision.  So from thence I embarked on another stage in the ongoing saga of Victoria Learns Patience (except not really cause I'm still impatient) - this time, through waiting for letters from the second convent I contacted.  This process took about a month altogether, just to find out in the end that they don't have visitors' accommodations and they don't accept postulants until the end of August.  Bummer.  So now I'm waiting for the aforementioned priest-a.k.a-voice-of-reason to, in his words, "figure something out" and then inform me what the something is and how I'm going to do it.  I'm telling you, when I write my autobiography (because of course my life will be worth one) I shall call it The Waiting Game.

The convent of the Sisters of St. Thomas Aquinas - El Mirage, AZ.  (photo mine)

Incidentally, Arizona has captured something in me - I wouldn't say my heart, but definitely something in me is attracted to something about it.  Despite its extreme lack of grass and trees and clouds, I still liked it.  Perhaps it was simply because that's where the Sisters are, or even just because it's so new and completely different from anything I am used to.  I don't know.  But the two-and-a-half uncannily bright, hot days I spent there are pretty deeply seared into my imagination - pun intended.  Especially the first morning (I arrived at night), when I opened the door at fifteen minutes past six to singing birds, cactus flowers, and a strange landscape soaked in dazzlingly golden light.  (It was even better because it was early enough that it hadn't gotten hot yet.)

(also mine)

On the way back I had more plane adventures involving switched flights, a thing that was actually not a boarding pass, Victoria-caused security breaches, and sitting in Washington-Reagan airport eating Cinnabon at 10:00 P.M.  My dear readers, heed my warning: DO NOT eat Cinnabon, especially that late at night.  It will make you very sick.  I have since sworn never to eat anything from that place again.

Oh yeah, and if you're ever in the Dallas-Ft. Worth airport, do yourself a favor and get a burrito from the burrito place, the name of which, if I ever knew at all, I don't remember.  You'll know it by the fact that said burrito costs ten dollars.  But it is large and extremely delicious and will haunt your dreams for a long time afterwards.

 I cannot think of anything else to say and I have an unconquerable desire to end this post by saying "THE END" in big letters.  I am not fighting this temptation.

 THE END.