Well, here we are, one year older but not wiser. Thanks everyone for visiting throughout the year. Your support means something. I just haven’t figured out what yet. Of course, my pleas for photos largely went unnoticed; save for about 2 people, and I’ve never had anyone else try to write for the site, aside from threats from family members looking for revenge.
A while ago a friend of mine had a melanoma removed from her arm. It left a rather large scar on her bicep and left my wife rather worried about the health of our skin. As a couple, we agreed the best course of action was to be men and to do nothing about it and ignore any symptoms that might arise in the future.
And once again we return to the innocent and occasionally factual years dubbed the Summers of Joel. Looking back, as I’m wont to do, I’d classify Joel & myself as good kids, even though, sure, we still caused mischief wherever we went. I mean, compared to us, we knew some total BRATS.
By now you’d know that when I was young I was pretty fast around the track. I’ve talked about my skills here on MK Tales at length, it’s been in the news, and generally passed down from one grandmother to the next in villages everywhere as legend and heartfelt tales of yore.
I’ll be brutally honest: church in Bolivia was never any fun at all. Mum & Dad tried a few different churches over the years with ever loftier heights of boredom and awkwardness. Making things more difficult, in the beginning we weren’t speaking Spanish, like everyone else. Also, we weren’t dark-skinned and attractive, like everyone else. Even when we learnt Spanish, which helped our survival somewhat, since it made buying food a little easier, by then everyone was speaking Quechua, and there was no way I was going to that much trouble.