Barstow to San Pedro, California

Today we drove to Barstow for church. We walked in and wondered why someone was already speaking in the chapel. Finally we realized we had been watching Utah time and we were an hour early. After holding our own Sunday school on the grass outside (about the 2nd coming and the parable of the fig), we joined the small congregation for sacrament meeting.

Afterwards, we retreated to KFC. I felt like a hypocrite. I had just been to church, I was wearing a skirt, and I was at KFC. I know, I know, Jesus picked corn on the Sabbath . . . Anyway, this black lady with a crazy red hat started talking to Dad and convinced him to buy her food. She said she was the first lady of Barstow and repeatedly told us that some people didn't think she should be, but the doctor said they couldn't do anything about it, etc. The KFC people rolled their eyes when we ordered her lunch. I dug a contact card out of my suitcase for her, per Dad's instructions. This couple saw me doing so and started asking us where we were from and where we were going. There was a seventeen-year difference between them. They also kept saying the same thing, but we retrieved another contact card and wished them luck on their trip.

Now we are at Vagabond Inn, a place that we joked was a place for prostitutes. It's actually quite nice, but Dad is joking that he has four women with him. Now we're going to go visit the LA temple. Good contrast among subjects, eh?