Signs of the Times, Issue No. 249 - 02/26/13

Tengo gozo en mi alma hoy.

Greetings to one and all! My name is Aaron. I'm a sports fan, a movie buff, a TV lover, a former radio DJ, a blogger, and I'm a Mormon. There is plenty to discuss in today's special, commemorative Issue of "Signs of the Times"! Topics to be discussed: a retrospective view of the highlights, lowlights, and everything in between from my LDS mission, and a few guest bloggers will weigh in as well! But first, a couple things that recently happened that were just too good to pass up. On we go!

This is me... as a missionary. But we'll get to that later.

I've mentioned this at least once recently, but I've got to bring it up again. All you nincompoops that complained about there not being enough snow last winter better be really, really pleased with yourselves because this winter is never... ever... going to end.


How about the Oscars, huh? I mentioned a couple weeks ago that I felt like a waste of space for sitting through the entire Grammys programming, but I didn't feel like the Academy Awards were THAT bad - maybe because I actually correctly predicted some of the winners or something, but I'm not entirely sure. As several people may attest, I pretty much just wanted "Skyfall" and "Wreck-It Ralph" to win every time they were nominated and I was elated when Mr. Bond and company took home two awards. One was for "best sound editing" - and I don't really even know what that means - but hey - a win is a win, all right? The tribute to 50 years of James Bond was pretty underwhelming, overall, but Adele was awesome as she performed (and later won an Oscar for) "Skyfall," which is, in my opinion, the best Bond theme song of all time. I was glad that "Les Mis" won a couple awards and I thought their performance was ok, but it got a little messy in the middle. It still made me want to go see the movie again, though, so that's probably what they were going for. Although Set MacFarlane was not the worst Oscars host I can remember, there were a couple things he said (and sung) that I wasn't a big fan of, particularly his John Wilkes Booth joke, which was absolutely appalling. Joking about the assassination of an American President (especially one as important as Lincoln) is NEVER funny. And finally, why did they feel like they needed to go interrupt Michelle Obama's fake party at the end of the show so that she could announce the award for "best picture"? Honestly, what was the point of that? She has really nothing at all to do with Hollywood or movies in general, so I'm not sure why they felt like that was such an incredible idea. The only two things I can think of would be that, perhaps, they thought "Lincoln" would win and they wanted to make some profound political statement by having an African-American announce it or they just wanted to showcase her incredibly tones arms and shoulders on the world's stage. Well... That's P.M.U.!!


At work, we've continued to send customer satisfaction surveys to people we help over the phone. Again this week, I was pleased to read the customer feedback to see what they had to say. Sadly, no customers this week said they would let me date their daughters, but I did get one guy who simply left a comment saying, "KEEP HIM." Too bad management doesn't take customers' opinions into account when considering promotions, huh? Tick tock.

They have recently gave us a new seating chart at work, which they've been known to do every couple months, so I've got a bunch of new neighbors now. It's only been a week and I already kind of miss sitting back in the corner by myself. But it is what it is, so I'm trying to enjoy it as best I can. One thing that I've gotten a good laugh out of lately is watching the lady next to me. She's in her mid-30s, has a voice that sounds like she's been smoking since she came out of the womb, and, bless her heart, she likes taking pictures of herself at her desk. Whilst posing somewhat seductively. In plain view. Right in front of everybody. I believe I was the first one to notice this little hobby - it wasn't hard to spot out of the corner of my eye as she used the front-facing camera on her phone, which she propped up against her computer monitor - but now I think everybody knows that she does it. It's, like, really weird, especially when she stands up to take a full-body picture or leans forward to more prominently display her chest. That's probably not something you should be doing at work. What she does is her business, so whatever, but she could at least go into the bathroom to take pictures, right? In case you were wondering what she's doing right now [at the time that I typed this portion of the Newsletter, anyway...] (and I know you were wondering...) she's putting on makeup. Lots and lots of makeup.

Now on to the good stuff.

On February 27, 2008, I, along with six of my best friends (and another girl I didn't really get to know), returned home from our missions to Raleigh, North Carolina, for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. That's five years ago this Thursday. Unbelievable. In commemoration of the conclusion of that whirlwind adventure, I'd like to talk a little bit - no, wait... - a LOT about the experiences I had, but I'd also like to hear from Jordan Holmes and Suzy Petersen, two of the missionaries that returned home with me and also, coincidentally, two of my most Loyal Subscribers. Firstly, I'd like to present the Shoutout of the Week to those six friends: Jordan Holmes, Suzy Petersen, Jesus Rodriguez, Jordan Keeney, William Earl Banks III, and Nate Jones. We're the best. Back to the Guest Bloggers, though. Let's start with Jordan and then we'll head on over to see what Suzy has to say. Sock it to us!

"Hello to all my fellow 'Sign of the Times' readers and occasional guest bloggers. Me llamo Jordán, y es un placer ser uno de ustedes. Because it has been fuve whole years since we returned from the mission field, the illustrious A-Town has asked me to share a few words with you all. 

First off, missions are great, and if you can, you should be a missionary one or more times in your life. Especially if you can go to the North Carolina Raleigh Mission and proselyte in Spanish. It will change your life.

I often wonder why, during the two years we spent in the MTC and mission field together, Aaron and I were never companions. We would have been awesome together. Maybe a bit too awesome. Like Mr-T-and-Chuck-Norris-high-fiving-each-other-with-their-beards awesome. That's probably a bit of hyperbole but it would have been good. (Upon reflection a beard high five would look too much like a kiss to be cool. Sorry for that visual. Maybe Mr T and Chuck Norris head butting Sasquatch while riding a T-Rex is a better comparison.) 

Apparently the Oscars were on this last Sunday. That makes... I don't know... Nine years in a row of not watching that dumb awards show or any other - and I feel like I have not missed a thing. I don't understand why the music, TV, and movie industries need to spend millions of dollars to pat themselves on the back. What if, one year, all money that would have been spent on awards shows was, instead, donated to advancing the arts in schools. Or to the homeless. Or any worthy cause. Just release the list of winners on YouTube or something and call it a day. Seriously. 

My wife just gave birth to my third daughter on the 16th. People keep telling me I need to get a shotgun to ward off the boys in a few years. I think I will stick with my machete. I think sharpening my machete will be at least as menacing if not more so than the stereotypical cleaning a shotgun when the boys come over thing."

- Jordan Holmes

Jordan Holmes, himself. The man, the myth, the bonafide legend.

"When I opened my mission call, at first I was a bit disappointed in a way. I had my heart set on Australia. But, as the day of my departure came closer, I got a little more excited. And then, I flew out to the beautiful state of North Carolina. I served in three areas while I was there, and each one was unique and amazing. I could never have imagined how much I would end up LOVING the people, the culture, and everything about my mission. The three things I probably miss the most would have to be first, Southern hospitality. It's such a great thing, really. There's something about that southern drawl when someone calls you 'sugar' or 'honey' that makes it okay. Everyone greets you with a hug and a nice smile, even if they are telling you to get off their porch and shutting the door in your face.

Second I would have to say that I miss the sunsets. Especially out by Morehead City. It's a city out by the beach and every night, the sky is filled with so many pink and orange colors that are so breathtaking. I will never forget driving over the causeway between Atlantic Beach and Morehead that somehow seemed to enhance the sunset from just an ordinary occurrence to something almost magical.

And third, the thing that I probably miss the most from North Carolina is Cape Lookout. It's the only lighthouse we were allowed to visit on P-days. It is just off the coast by Emerald Isle. There are many strips of sandy beach that lead out to the little isle that holds the beautiful tower with it's black and white diamond design. On these strips of land the Shakleford ponies have adapted and learned to survive off the beachy land that lies next to the ocean. It is so beautiful to take the ferry out to the lighthouse and see these miniature ponies frollicking along the shores. I feel like a part of my soul remains on that beach. It is the closest to heaven I have felt outside the temple. It is gorgeous and amazing and if you've never been, you are truly missing out. I can't believe it's been five years since I got home."

- Suzy Petersen

Well said. Well said, both of you. Great work.

I thought that this week I could potentially talk about the Top Five funniest moments from my mission, but, as I got thinking about it, there was no way I could narrow it down to just five, so you're going to have to drudge through FIFTEEN of the most memorable moments from my mission. If you're not cool with that, I'll try to act like I'm not offended if you skip out on the rest of this and tune back in next week. Actually, as a matter of fact, if you're not cool with that, how about you just stop reading my blog? How about that, huh??? Ahem. Anyway, here you go. Enjoy.

- Cutting to the Chase at the MTC
During my stay at the Missionary Training Center in Provo, Utah, they often had us practice teaching the missionary lessons with the other missionaries in our group, called a district. Though most of the missionaries in my district were also headed to Raleigh like I was, my companion at the time was called to serve in Lansing, Michigan. He was a straight arrow, I suppose you'd say. Not a major sense of humor - and I'm actually not really even sure he had a minor sense of humor, either, as evidenced by one particular lesson. We were teaching the first lesson from "Preach My Gospel," which talks about the love of God for His children, the importance of prophets, the earthly ministry of Jesus Christ, the Great Apostasy, the Restoration of the Gospel, and how we can receive answers to prayer. During this lesson, we had a time limit - perhaps ten minutes - in which to teach the every topic from beginning to end. At one point, I was talking about the earthly ministry of the Savior and our teacher chimed in, "Two minutes!" "Two minutes??" I responded, realizing that we had gone much too slowly in the early stages of the lesson. Panicked, I searched for words to hurry along to the next topic. The first words that came to my mind were, "And then Jesus was killed by the Jews." The entire class erupted into laughter, except for my companion and the teacher. I don't think they were very impressed. But a few of us couldn't stop laughing until long after our two remaining minutes had expired.

- The Pickle
The first area I served in on my mission was an awesome little town called Mt. Olive. Mt. Olive is the Pickle Capitol of the world and home of the illustrious Mt. Olive Pickle company. During my first week in the actual mission field, Mt. Olive held their annual Pickle Festival, which would be the equivalent of, like, Draper Days or something like that. The highlight of the Pickle Festival for me was definitely taking a picture with the Mr. Pig from Piggly Wiggly and a guy in a pickle costume. I'll treasure those pictures forever.

The Pickle!

- Santos and the Smackdown
While Elder Rodriguez and I were serving together in Mt. Olive, we often talked with a crazy man named Santos. We would occasionally try to teach him, but it never went anywhere because he was drunk probably 90% of the time. He was a funny guy. He'd spot us walking down the road to his trailer park and holler, "KREEEEEEEEEEEEEESSSS-TENNNN-SENNNNN!!" I would yell back, "SAAAAAAANTOOOOSSSS!!" Like I said, he was silly. One day we walked by and he was getting the heck beaten out of him by a drunken neighbor. I believe his shirt was ripped. We didn't stop and talk to him that day.

- Stick Pulling with Prescott
The English stake in the Mt. Olive region held a pioneer celebration during my four and a half months in the area which we were able to attend. Some of the activities that we participated in at the party were a sack race (which I lost miserably) and a stick pull. I'm all about a good ol' stick pull! My district leader at the time was a big Polynesian guy named Elder Prescott. Elder Fowles, one of the English missionaries I lived with at 218 E. James St., and I challenged Elder Prescott to a stick pull - two against one - and... well... he still beat us. I can always fall back on the excuse that my two feet were too large to press up against one of his enormous shoes and my right foot slipped, causing us to slide over to his side, rather than being pulled up over the top. I have pictures to prove it, but whatever. It was a good show for all those in attendance.

One day, I got interviewed for a local newspaper. This was the picture they used for the article.

- "Rekindling the Hollywood Flame"
I always enjoyed carrying around a tape recorder (old school) and recording tapes to send home, whether it was like an audio journal or interviewing fellow missionaries or members that I served around. One of my favorite recurring segments in these tapes was something Elder Baldwin and I called "Rekindling the Hollywood Flame" - you may remember that I sometimes talk about this around the holidays. Elder Baldwin and I would dramatically re-enact famous scenes from Christmas movies, much to the annoyance of our companions. I'd love to listen to those tapes again. That was some good stuff - and a good way to keep up with my hobby of college radio while I was out proselyting.

Baldy Boy! Busting out the egg nog!

- Another One Bites the Dust
One afternoon as one of the Zone Leaders and I biked up and down the hills of Raleigh, North Carolina, I fell prey to a hidden trap that, I would come to learn, had also gotten the best of at least two other missionaries before me. We were biking down the sidewalks on the way home from an appointment (the "shoulder" or "bike lane" in Raleigh is probably about eight inches wide) and, in an attempt to pass a pedestrian, veered off onto the parallel strip of grass. The Zone Leader passed just fine, but, as I made my way back to the sidewalk, I saw, with gaping eyes, a hole in the grass - right between the grass and the edge of the sidewalk. The hole was the perfect size for a bike tire. It felt like slow motion. My front tire entered the hole, stopped in its figurative tracks, and the rest of the bike kept moving, flinging me over the handlebars and rolling down the pavement. I was fine. I got right back up and dusted myself off. The Hispanic guy that I was attempting to pass hurried over to me, looking concerned. I addressed him in Spanish, "Estoy bien! Estoy bien!" He was probably thinking, "Wow, that crash really threw that gringo for a loop!"

- Car crash/Court visit
Who could forget the time that a car turning out of a parking lot (without the right-of-way) rammed into the front-passenger's side tire of our mission vehicle as I drove home from church? Ah yes. Good times. And then I got sent to court for not having a valid North Carolina driver's license, which, some argued, I legally should have had, but which, I argued, I couldn't legally obtain. Those were some good times. Thankfully, after a date with the judge, I got off with a warning.

Innocent until proven guilty.

- "My Favorite Twenty-Four Months"
Once they shipped me out of Raleigh for the first time, I was sent to a little, predominantly-American place called Rockingham - or, as some people have previously called it, Rockhampton. It's really Rockingham, though. There wasn't a whole lot for Elder Stevens and me to do there, so we spent a lot of time walking around and searching high and low for any Hispanics in the town that we hadn't previously talked to. Whilst meandering, we came up with some crazy ideas, such as, but not limited to, creating our own musical about missionary work. To avoid any potential trademark infringements, we called it "My Favorite Twenty-Four Months." It told the story of nerdy LDS missionary Nephi Lehi Johnson, voiced by yours, truly, as he struggled through the MTC, difficult companions, zone conferences, and, at long last, a baptism. For the most part, aside from Elder Stevens' atrocious singing, it's pretty decent and hopefully not TOO blasphemous, considering we wrote each song to the tune of one of the beloved hymns. It's good, though. Good, good stuff. Another notable song to be written and recorded in Rockingham was "The South Will Rise Again," to the tune of "The Battle Hymn of the Republic." I've really got to find those tapes.

Opportunity was knocking for me and Steve-O.

- Did You Guys Hear That?
There was one night in Raeford where it was pretty stormy outside. Those East Coast rain storms can get a little intense. Lots of lightning, strong winds, and they come out of nowhere, so they're a little unpredictable. It was pretty late at night and we were in our beds downstairs trying to sleep, but then we heard our screen door open and close very loudly. We were FREAKED OUT. We were all 99% positive that somebody was trying to break into our house. My former companion, Elder Rodriguez, led the way to the bottom of the stairs with a flashlight and a clothes hanger. He took the hanger and blindly threw it up the stairs at the front door - just in case. As it turns out, believe it or not, there was no intruder. But we did find out that a couple strong gusts of wind did break the hinge to the screen door... So that was exciting.

- Woolsey's Big Sunday
Another fine moment in my mission was a little prank we played on my "Greenie" - a brand new missionary that I was in charge of training. It was my first and, thankfully, only time training a missionary, and I say "thankfully" because this kid was an absolute terror. I never wanted to train again. We decided, like we did with most new missionaries, to initiate him by playing a little joke on him one Sunday in Raeford and Red Springs. The Branch Mission Leader volunteered to pose as an investigator with major Word of Wisdom problems at church that week. After the Gospel Principles class, he told us - in Spanish, which my companion didn't really understand at the time - that he had something in his car that he needed to show us. We went out into the parking lot and, to make a long story short (too late), confiscated a tiny bag of oregano (that TOTALLY looked like pot) and a cooler full of that mineral water that comes in a bottle and looks like Heineken (he even had me fooled on that one!). It wasn't easy, though. He really fought us for it, saying that it would be very difficult for him to stop his addiction to drugs. Eventually, I told him to just end the prank, but he still kept going. My companion really had no idea what was going on, but decided to try to help out with his broken Spanish that was something along the lines of, "You love... God? You love... Jesus? Sin... not good... repentance." The supposed addict continued to refuse to give up the drugs, forcing me to attempt to buy the drugs off him. The other missionaries involved and I couldn't keep straight faces much longer than that and, as far as I know, I think the Greenie is still upset with the Branch Mission Leader.

I had some great times with these guys - Workman, Krebs, Stevens, Quigley, Jensen, Hinde, Rodriguez, and Holmes.

- Los Borrachos

We would come across drunk people somewhat frequently as we traveled from place to place and, you know what? Drunk people are generally very friendly, likely because we would come across them in their most humble state. Every once in a while, I liked to have a little bit of fun with the drunkies. Take, for instance, the time I came across one drunk guy in a trailer park on the outskirts of Red Springs. I knew he was drunk because he had the bottle in his hand. He didn't seem pleased to see us. I knew the door approach wasn't going to go anywhere, so I cut the crap and told the guy that we had come to ask him to go to church with us on Sunday. "No, no, no," he insisted. After a minute or two, I asked him if he knew that drinking was bad. "No, no, no!!" he cried the further. He proceeded to tell me that beer is "aguita del sol," which is basically a cute way of saying that it's "water from the sun." Whatever. Anyway, was he coming to church with us? "No, no, no! There's not enough time for church," he told us. After a little basic arithmetic, I explained that God had given him 168 hours in the week and only wanted three hours on Sunday for church. His final argument was that if he took the time to go to church, there would not be enough time to drink beer. All right. Anyway, we finally brought that lovely discussion to a close and continued down the street. We met another man, likely intoxicated, who said he knew all about us and had read that book that Joseph Smith wrote. Well, Joseph Smith didn't actually write any canonical books, but I humored him. "The Book of Mormon?" I asked. "No, no, the other book!" Thinking... thinking... Which "other book" did this guy thought Joseph Smith wrote?? "The... Pearl... Pearl of... something..." the man muttered. "THE PEARL OF GREAT PRICE?!?" I responded, dumbfounded? This guy not only knew what "The Pearl of Great Price" was, but had also read it. Wow.

I was hiding in there this one time, but they made me come out of the closet eventually.

- A-Town, Meet Frank-Town

Some of the things that many missionaries (and my mission president's wife) may remember me for the most were my outrageous performances in the workshops in district meetings and zone conferences. When I served as a zone leader in the Raleigh Zone, I was blessed to be put with a companion by the name of Elder Frakes for a six-week period. We had the opportunity during those six weeks to teach many missionaries in our zone. Many of my companions became aware of my college radio past and some of them even referred to me as "Elder A-Town." My companion was often mistakenly called "Elder Franks" by some of the Hispanics that we were teaching, so I would often call him "Frank-Town." And thus was born one of the zaniest tandems in the history of all Mormondom. Our shining beacon, our crown jewel of all lessons we ever taught was during our only zone conference together. We taught about an innovative way to invite people to go to church that was introduced by Elder Gene R. Cook of the Seventy. Our idea was to have a "Cook-ing" show featuring the world's greatest chefs, A-Town and Frank-Town. It was probably one of the best lessons I ever taught in that kind of a setting. We made people laugh, we offended somebody by making fun of their boyfriend, and my mission president's wife still remembers it just as vividly as we do. Say the magic words with me, Suzy! POW! ZOWIE! ZING! PUT IT IN!

A-Town. Frank-Town.

- No, Elder Barker, I am Your Companion!

After two years of studying the scriptures with my companion every single morning, you'd think I would have gotten a little bit bored. By the time I arrived in my final area, Kinston, maybe I did. Or maybe I just got creative. As Elder Barker and I read, page by page, the "White Bible" of missionary guidelines, we got to the point where one of us would throw out a idea and the other companion would have to read the upcoming page as suggestion. For instance, I might suggest that Elder Barker read a page in the voice of Darth Vader, then he might ask me to continue on like a golf announcer. I also remember one day where we chose to re-enact whatever it was that we had read in our personal study. That day ended with Elder Barker standing on a chair holding an umbrella and me throwing crumpled up paper balls at him. I loved Elder Barker.

Me and the Bark-Dawg in Kinston, NC.

- Our Chimney Gives Me "The Bird"

Skipping back, chronologically, to one of my absolute favorite stories from my entire mission, we head back to The Pickle during my first transfer in the field. I was enjoying a nice morning of personal study when I heard the coo of a dove. I thought nothing of it and continued to study. Then came the noise again. And again. And again. In fact, I started timing it and could predict to the very second when the next coo would come. It was crazy. It started getting really annoying, though, and the precisely accurate cooing started to distract me. What was odd was that the sound seemed like it was coming from inside our house. After a short investigation, I found that there was a morning dove lodged in our chimney and the sound was protruding out of the fireplace. Elder Fowles, ever the huntsman, grabbed an airsoft gun that he had stowed in one of his desk drawers and began to shoot at the bird, hitting it several times right in the face. The bird would flinch, but would not fly out the chimney. I asked for a broom and began to poke at the bird, but as I touched it, I got a little creeped out. Elder Fowles grabbed the broom, shoved it up the chimney, and went to town, so to speak, intent on flushing the bird out. As if it were a scene from a movie, the bird dove down the chimney, out into the house, and straight toward me. I turned and began to run in the opposite direction, undoubtedly shrieking as I went. Little did I remember the small step leading from the hardwood entry room to my study room! I tripped and fell - and probably just in the knick of time - as the morning dove zoomed over my head and straight into the window on the opposite side of the study. It fell to the floor beneath Elder Martin's desk, where we trapped it with the broom. Elder Fowles got in a few more shots with the airsoft gun, and then we cautiously released it back into the wild, where it was never heard from again.

Toward the end of my mission, I started reading apostate materials during personal study.

- Look, Ma! I'm Stoned!

And finally, the crowning memory of my entire mission (other than baptisms and, um, stuff like that). This story also involves a bird in Mt. Olive. I was lying in bed one night and trying to sleep. I was having difficulty getting to sleep because of a bird right outside the bedroom window that was causing a huge ruckus. I'm not sure I can ever remember a time where I heard birds making any kind of noise in the middle of the night, so I found that very strange. I silently thought that I wanted to go out and throw a rock at it to get it to shut up. Additionally, I could feel what I thought were small pieces of plastic in my bed. I carefully picked out one or two and tossed tossed them onto the ground, silently thinking, "I don't remember smashing my alarm clock in my sleep..." After a few more minutes, I decided that I'd get up and, um, go to the bathroom or something and see if I could get to sleep after having done so. I got up, walked into the bathroom, did my stuff, and then washed my hands, as all gentlemen do. As I looked into the mirror, I noticed a stream of blood running down my arm. I hurriedly checked my nose and mouth. No blood. Strange. I bandaged myself up, turned off the light, and went back to the bedroom. Beneath my feet as I exited the bathroom, I could feel shards of broken glass. I silently thought to myself, "I don't remember closing the bathroom door so hard that I broke the mirror..." Very strange. I went to the other side of the room, turned on the bedroom light, and, to my horror, saw shards of glass all over the room - including in my blood-stained bed. Next to the bedroom window just inside the ledge sat a large chunk of what appeared to be asphalt that had been thrown through the glass. No wonder that bird was making such loud noises! It was like an alarm! We had been victims of an old fashioned stoning! Somebody chucked a giant rock through our bedroom window! We called the cops to have them come check out the neighborhood and decided that we needed to get out of there. It was probably like 3:00 in the morning, but Elder Fowles called the ward mission leader. "Hey, Brother Holmes, can you go on exchanges with us tonight? ... Just kidding. Somebody threw a rock through our window. Can we come stay at your place until tomorrow?" The next day, we found small dent in my box springs. The rock had hit my bed and bounced back next to the window, narrowly missing me by probably about four or five inches. Incredible.

Crazy.

What an amazing time that was for me. I had always been afraid to go on a mission as a child. I never wanted to leave home. I mean, look at me NOW, for crying out loud! But seriously, I thought I was going to get called to Communist Germany and be killed by a Nazi. Looking back on it, I am so glad that I did make that life-changing decision to serve a mission. Thinking back on all the great stories and the hilarious memories I had - even the ones I didn't include like going to the flea market in Lumberton or throwing Chicken McNuggets at Elder Quigley on his bike as we sped past in the car - those were some awesome, awesome times and I'd go back and do it again in a heartbeat. I can't believe how fast the time has gone since I got back. Five years since I got off that plane at Salt Lake International with Sister Petersen. Wow. As I contemplate the past five post-mission years, am I anywhere like where I thought I'd be? Not even close. Not even close at all. But I've been able to get some good things accomplished and I'm proud of that and I look forward to the next five years and the adventures that await.

It was GO TIME.

And we were never heard from again.

I must say that I was wrong. That's right. I'm admitting for once that I was actually wrong about two things. I would hear missionaries say all the time that, toward the end of their missions, they all wanted to extend so they could stay out longer. I never believe that bull crap. I knew I'd never feel that way. Twenty-four months is a long time and, I figured, once I was done with my 24 months, I'd be ready to go home - and, to a certain extent, I really did miss my family and was ready to go back and watch a couple movies. But I think I would have been fine taking a little two-week vacation and heading right back on out. I loved my mission and I wish it didn't have to end. So I was wrong about that. I would also hear returned missionaries say dumb things like, "I think about my mission every single day." Yeah right, I'd think. Not a chance. You're saying that EVERY SINGLE DAY you think about it? You don't, like, ever forget about it for one Thursday every couple months or something? Seriously, every single day? Yeah. Every single day. I think about it, I laugh about it, I remember the people I served and those I baptized. I remember the people I taught that didn't get baptized. I think about the weather, I think about the cities, and I still love speaking Spanish. I have a stronger testimony of the Gospel because of it, I developed an incredible love for teaching because of it, and I'm a better person in many, many ways because of it. I think about my mission every single day and I miss the crap out of it.

The Best Two Years.

That's about it for this week, kiddos. Thanks for putting up with all that. It's a special time of year for me, ok, and I love multiples of five, so the five-year anniversary of my return home is a big deal. You're now dismissed to go back to Facebook stalking me and "liking" all my statuses.

Until next Time,

Move It! Sell It! And Leave the Door Open!

Aaron