Favorite Pastime

So yesterday I got my missionary haircut. That was... fun. I once told someone that getting my haircut was the best thing ever. Why? He asked. Answer: Do you ever protest to people playing with your hair, and massaging your scalp? Reply: Good point. That was then. I now retract that comment. Since said conversation, I have had many a haircut that have sent my stress levels into shockingly high numbers. I am a little OCD about my hair. Acceptance is the first step, followed by admittance which can often be the hardest so I would say that I am well on my way to recovery. With that said, I will tell you that getting my hair cut is in all reality one of my least favorite things in the world, and I try to postpone it for as long as possible. Well with the whole mission thing coming up in like two weeks, I figured it would be wise to get the traditional missionary haircut. I carefully and with great detail explained how I liked my hair to be cut. 33 minutes, some molding gel, and a blow dry later my hair was done. Naturally, not in the way I asked for. The only consolation is that this time, it's not like I have anyone to impress. I'm going on a mission which is code for "Nun" for a year and a half. It's totally fine. But she did fix my bangs, which I won't even go into WHY they needed to be fixed- I may have a conniption, and she did manage to successfully give me layers. So all in all, not the worst haircut I've ever had.

However, it was the conversation that got me thinking the most. One of my problems with constantly getting such stressful haircuts is that I keep moving. The last 3 haircuts I've had have been in 3 different states. That makes it even more fun because you have to try new people out, and figure out what their style is. Also, it means that you have to dish out your life story each time. This time I was able to talk a lot about my mission and Montana. That was cute. Lori, my hairdresser told me that I should go snowshoeing while I was there, and I almost wept. She asked me how I liked Ferndale, and I told her that I loved it. Then she asked me a seemingly harmless question. "Have you done anything fun since you've been here?" That one got me. I have had a wonderful time being home. I've loved every minute of it. I told her that I had taken a trip to Oregon, and am going again this Saturday. (I love the temple.) I had gone to the beach several times, and had mostly just been really busy getting everything ready for my mission. That didn't sound to impressive to me, but nonetheless I had enjoyed myself.

Later, when I was home trying to decided if I liked my haircut or not, I replayed that conversation in my mind. I finally came up with a decent answer for her: I've lived. Plain and simple. I've lived. I love my life so much, and find so much joy in the day to day adventures and nonsensical events. Isn't that how it should be? Shouldn't the fun in life be the living of it? While I have not done anything too amazing or earth shattering while I've been home I've been happy. I've laughed everyday- some days I laugh so hard I cry. (Like when my dad tells me how big my hips are, or when I made that unsuspecting Elder Packard feel like a tool, or when my sister unleashes her killer wit, or during Family Home Evening.) See? Life is fun. Families are fun. Growing is fun. Learning is fun. Working, striving, progressing, and becoming can be fun. Life is wonderful, and what I do for fun is live it. That's my favorite pastime of all. Thank you, and goodnight.