DAY 36 -- Taking a Siesta Daily

If we were to take today as a "sign" we would assume we are going to a Spanish speaking mission.  Today is the cinqo de Mayo.  It is a celebration all over the world in Hispanic circles.  It means I guess that we should all go out to tacos, enchiladas, tortillas, or something HOT. 

It makes my mind fly hundreds of miles, years, and lustrums to remember that in Mexico, each city closed down from 1 in the afternoon until 4 for a siesta.  Then they kept running until about 10.  That way, they had sort of two days in one.  I loved the siesta, and as I am a bit older than most of the world, I believe old people should follow that tradition, take a siesta every day for a few hours.

If you did that, you would be awake, alive, excited, and enthusiastic much more of the day.  So, perhaps we could get one of those running for President this year to use it as part of his campaign.  "Hire me and I shall initialize the daily Siesta."  I would imagine that he would get many of the Latin Americans to vote for him.  It may make the difference in the election.  I think I will call those involved and see if they would listen to me, and then they would pay me that $50,000 that I seek.

I dreamed last night that the interview by the Stake President was not going to be necessary.  So our papers are now in SLC and the brethren are considering where to send us.  Of course it was probably a dream coming from something I ate?  Dreams are often visions, but most often in my case the result of eating something that I should not have eaten, or some malfunction in my stomach or head.  Who knows?

Bonnie and I still talk each day about the upcoming mission.  Our enthusiasm and excitement is not waning.  In fact, since we know that each day we are one day closer to ?something? then we know that one day we will indeed finally be missionaries serving together.  It is difficult not to talk about when or where, but soon it will happen, and we are still excited. 

I often think of Bonnie's and my parents watching us as we prepare and move toward being missionaries.  I often wonder what they think of us, our goals.  I often wonder if they are close enough to touch our minds, our dreams, our feelings.  I often listen real hard, feel real hard, hoping that I could get some kinds of contact from my father or mother as we wait for our mission call.  I know they are proud of us and are aware of our future service as missionaries.  Wish I could talk with my father for a few seconds.  Perhaps I do when I sleep, who knows. 

As we approach another weekend, I imagine that a weekend, a Sunday would be a good day for the Stake President to talk with us and push the button.  Well, I guess we shall know in another few hours whether it is going to be this weekend or next, or next month?  I guess I am getting patient.