Bless 2010!

Secret confession: I used to read Ann Landers and Dear Abby every day.

Today as I cleaned out my desk here at my parents', I found an Ann Landers column I cut out years ago. This is what Ann wrote:

"Infatuation is instant desire - one set of glands calling to another. Love is friendship that has caught fire. It takes root and grows, one day at a time.

Infatuation is marked by a feeling of insecurity. You are excited and eager but not genuinely happy. There are nagging doubts, unanswered questions, little bits and pieces about your beloved that you would just as soon not examine too closely. It might spoil the dream.

Love is the quiet understanding and mature acceptance of imperfection. It is real. It gives you strength and grows beyond you - to bolster your beloved. You are warmed by his presence, even when he is away. Miles do not separate you. You have so many wonderful little films in your head that you keep replaying. But near or far, you know he is yours and you can wait.

Infatuation says, "We must get married right away. I can't risk losing him." Love says, "Be patient. Don't panic. Plan your future with confidence."

Infatuation has an element of sexual excitement. Whenever you are together you hope it will end in intimacy. Love is not based on sex. It is the maturation of friendship that makes sex so much sweeter. You must be friends before you can be lovers.

Infatuation lacks confidence. When he's away, you wonder if he is cheating. Sometimes you check.

Love means trust. You are calm, secure and unthreatened. He feels your trust, and it makes him even more trustworthy.

Infatuation might lead you to do things you will regret, but love never steers you in the wrong direction.

Love is elevating. It lifts you up. It makes you look up. It makes you think up. It makes you a better person than you were before."

I have only experienced this kind of love once. Or maybe not ever. But I think Ann hit the nail on the head with this one.

Also, my sister left a 1-pound box of See's Candies on the floor of our bedroom. Phoebe, the rabblerouser mini dachshund my mom applies all her affection to, tore open the box with her ferocious jaws and consumed 1/3 of the contents. She just got back from her ipecac feast at the vet. Phoebe's only ten pounds, but she recently chased down a rat in our backyard, gave it a teeth sandwich and snapped its neck. Yet she masquerades as a helpless, innocent, un-potty-trainable, perpetual puppy. What's more, I get to pay half her vet bill. I'm still not sure why, seeing as how I rescued her from certain death as I found her feasting on the chocolates this morning.

May your 2010 be everything you deserve.

I wish The Boss were my boss.

Getting up early is better than getting up late. Or so I am learning. It's like two hours magically appear out of nowhere! I am turning over a new leaf: I am not allowed to arise past 7:30 am. I'm working my way back to 6:30 am. (Thank you to the friends who've gently reminded me of this principle).

In addition to the 'what am I to do with my life at present' dilemma I'm currently in, there's another question that pervades my mental meanderings:

What happened to modesty?

I think it's time we revamped modesty. Not with the frumpy "Modest is Hottest" campaign (and myriad ugly prom dresses to boot), but with tips to be hip yet respectfully dressed. No Shade tees, no Down East, especially no t-shirts under tank tops or sleeveless and strapless dresses (I hope you are cringing as badly as I am right now). Any ideas?

If there's such a thing as love

There is no excitement quite as exciting as when your heart (or your mind?) finally figures out that you love someone. I don't think this happens very often in life. At least not with that deep, pure love that is reserved for special occasions. But it's one of the best feelings I've ever felt, and it's been a while since I felt it.

I have always loved love. Loved the idea of love. Loved being in love. Yes. I love love.

My constant prayer since April 2008 is that I might be a conduit of Heavenly Father's love for His children. His love is the purest love.

President Uchtdorf gave my favorite talk of 2009. It's about love.

I love you!

All is safe within the fold.

I watched (500) Days of Summer. I thought it was really excellent. Mostly because I loved Zooey Deschanel's clothes and because this movie portrays the collective unconscious most of us share about relationships. Summer and Tom's relationship personifies parts of every relationship I've ever been in.

You know, my French teacher Mr. Boorda (who taught me how to say a bad word in French just in case I ever went there and got called this word) told me that humans are 95 percent alike. I remember thinking what that meant about me as a high school freshman. It meant that even though the popular kids thought they were so much better than everyone else, they were still much more like the rest of us than they wanted to be.

Which means there's a 95 percent chance you will identify with my memories of Christmas.

Christmas is so anti-climatic to me. We have our big Christmas Eve dinner. We're having 20 people this year. We eat standing rib roast that my dad thinks is too expensive, but he won't switch to ham or turkey because rib roast is just so good. My mom gets out the china. We drink Martinelli's (I am excited to try the apple-pomegranate). We open a pair of pajamas Christmas Eve night and wear them as we open presents Christmas morning.

We have one nativity in our house. We have gilded gold deer and Santas and angels and garlands and a real Christmas tree that had the smell manufactured out of it.

And that's really it. Our traditions have degraded into the inessential, managing to be monotonous and nostalgic and stimulating all at the same time. It's just this dinner-that dinner, with no real defining moment or enduring impression. Each year I fight relative boredom, and the tendency to perpetuate a hollow, aimless celebration where the Savior is mentioned only in the prayer over dinner, if He's lucky.

This year more than any year, I feel this is a commentary on my own former surrender to distraction and failure to incorporate my spiritual convictions into my temporal world. This year will not be like the rest.

"Silent Night" has long been my favorite Christmas song. Few other hymns so accurately recount the sacredness of that hallowed night. Few other hymns so delicately convey the calming peace and quiet reassurance our Savior can bring us throughout our tumultuous mortal existence. I need Him. I love Him.

So here it is. My token Christmas blog entry.

Happy Birthday, Jesus.

The snow it melts, the sun it stays.

I'm sorry that all I ever talk about is my mission, how I feel after coming home, etc. Most of the time I do fine. Just like any adjustment, I hit crests of waves and depths of troughs. I only feel the need to speak while in the troughs. I don't know why this is.

Being off a mission is hard, only at times. Being off a mission and at my parents' house is hard all the time. I realized today, after finishing a conversation with one of my companions, that it's hard because largely, my family ignores the fact I was a missionary. Not deliberately. But it doesn't compute as part of their life. Their lives continued in the same pattern while I was gone; having me back is merely part of their pattern.

Today I got a card from my last companion. I found the card at Nice Twice, the train depot-turned-thrift store we volunteered at. It was printed in 1983. It pictures a cartoon girl riding a bicycle, though only the front half of the bicycle is visible. It says: "If there's one thing I need in Waterloo...", open it, pictured is the girl, alone on a tandem bicycle, "It's you."

I loved this card when I saw it. I mean LOVED. I was more obsessed with it than I was the "Smile: This card was sent to you by someone who thinks you're special!" card that some of you may have received. But I never had anyone to send it to, and I loved it so much I wanted to keep it, so I made Mo send it to me. And it just made me cry to read it. Because Waterloo represents a lot. Feelings are so complicated.

She sent me pictures of Jeremy and David, wearing white for their baptisms. I taught these guys. I love these guys.

I have known no greater joy. Lasting, spiritually sanctifying joy doesn't come as often as I'd like it to.

Just so you know, Sting's new Christmas/winter album is pretty great. Let's be honest though, it's Sting. Everything he touches turns to gold. Fields of gold.

Anyway, I am going to the gun store now. And then maybe here.

Hallelujah

What would the world be like without Jeff Buckley? I hope he is still making music in the spirit world.

I served in Waterloo for an abnormally long time, for many reasons, but none parallel in importance to Kaye.

I met Kaye January 28. Sister Rider and I lived across the street from Kaye and her husband. We moved in January 26, that night. We cleaned the apartment as a blizzard raged on the 27th. On the 28th we weren't allowed to drive because of the poor road conditions. Having only a five-year-old roster to guide us, we saw the first name on the list--Adele--and went for a visit. Just after we left, Sister Rider lost circulation in her wrist. We had to get to an ER, fast, so we called Kaye. Kaye was sick herself. Rapidly advancing degenerative disc disease, recovering from consecutive neck and back surgeries, she was so limited from her pain. She forgot herself and took us to "Dead Bud." Kaye and I talked for three hours as we waited. I learned more about her and her life that day than anyone had in years, she later told me. I loved her.

My last visit with Kaye was August 19. Late Wednesday afternoon. Larry had just finished installing the new oven. He'd also just moved her sister Vicki's old recliner into the family room, where the couch had been, in preparation for Kaye's recovery from her upcoming neck surgery. She didn't think she was going to live through the surgery. It was the first in a succession of surgeries on her spine, which had degraded at an astronomical rate between February and August. Kaye was so scared. She told us that a few days before, shed been driving down 270 and suddenly felt a great warmth within her. She said, for the first time in her life, she felt forgiven. "Why would that be? Why would I feel that?" she asked us. She joked about her favorite drink, a dirty martini, with three olives. We ran into Kaye and Larry at Applebees that night. They sat at the table behind us. Kaye ordered a dirty martini with three olives. She offered me an olive.

Kaye died August 21. We don't know why. Her husband Larry came home from work and saw Kaye sleeping peacefully on the couch. Something told him to go check on her, right away. Her spirit had long since separated from her body. She was smiling. She was at rest. Her funeral was on my birthday, the 25th. I got to sing and speak. I also got to witness her husband, my dear Brother Larry, return to church after 13 years. It was the best birthday present I've ever been given.

I have felt Kaye's presence often since she passed. She is near, always near. In August I will be proxy for Kaye to be sealed to Larry. I am pretty sure this will be the happiest day of my life, thus far.

Kaye was my aunt, my best friend, my mother, my sister, my daughter--the depth of my relationship with her is one I hope to cultivate with every woman I am so privileged to serve. Rarely are we able to serve people in ways that require transcendent selflessness. I was blessed with opportunity to do this, for Kaye. Words cannot convey the significance of these experiences. Maybe sometime I will tell you about them.

Alma 26:16.

Woes of figgy pudding.

"In the school of mortality, the tutor is often pain and tribulation, but the lessons are meant to refine and bless us and strengthen us, not to destroy us." --Elder Robert D. Hales

I remind myself daily (multiple times, sometimes) that mortality and its accompanying cacophony isn't meant to be punitive. And it's not, I know. 2 Nephi 2 and all of that.

My dad was named the best dentist in the Bay Area by NBC News. They filmed a commercial today, PSA-type stuff. Dad is off the chain about it. I am so proud of my dad.

I'm not one to get gushy, but I am really blessed to have the parents I have. I mean REALLY blessed.

I broke my rule with figgy pudding (my rule: eating what I was served as a sissie mishie, be it elk, goat, rabbit, brain, lard-based, etc.). A dear sister in my area last Christmas wanted to know what figgy pudding was.

Just so you know, you don't want to know what it is.

Failure to prepare = preparing to fail (Yes, that's sarcastic).

The latest plans are this: I am moving to Salt Lake City. My sister got me a job at Wells Fargo. It's definitely not my top choice, but it's an income. I have been so frustrated applying to jobs. Chances are, if you don't know anyone in the company prior to applying, you won't be hired.

Katie and I went to see Zero 7 last night. I really didn't want to go. It ended up being okay. Far from the best show I've ever been to. At the very least, it was a cultural experience, being around "alternative lifestyle" people, weed, beer in my face at every turn, an overwhelming amount of Old Spice on the guy next to me, all the things I missed about life. Thanks.

Today my mom walked into a clear glass window, not noticing it was there.

The next two weeks are themed "Quick to Observe" in the Ruefenacht household. We are not getting along as well as we should be.

I am going to pursue a career as a backup singer. And as singer and bassist of a band. Who wants to be in the band with me? (I am serious). We have a drummer. His name is D.H. His dad is a minor celebrity. He voiced Lemuel in the Living Scriptures animated series. I would know. The credits to "Nephi and the Brass Plates" are rolling right now.

I love you.

Give me a reason to stay.

I wish humans were more consistent.

Beware of [insert vice here].

The snow tonight is for me. Because I got home and took a walk in it, to enjoy its calm.

If I had to pick five words to describe myself this past month, they would be:
1. Confused.
2. Tired.
3. Complacent (tied with content. They may not readily seem contemporaries, but in this case they are).
4. Happy.
5. Lost.

I realized something driving home just now, thanks to one best friend I needed to see but hadn't seen, thanks to the beauty of the earth, thanks to the shooting star I saw three nights ago, thanks to the diamonds falling from the sky, thanks to spirit-to-Spirit communion (especially this).

I had a reality-inducing conversation with my dad earlier tonight. His agenda: Why have you not yet found a job in Utah? He informed me that I was not welcome at home if I didn't have a job. In not so many words, but this was his underlying point. Beggars can't be choosers, take what you can get, in this economy, etc.

I learned years ago to never take offense to what Dad says. Because he's usually right.

My last ounce of pride is the only thing keeping me from staying in Utah. Because it really is my last ounce. Because I have it in my mind that Utah will never yield up her fruits to me.

Explore is all I ever hear.

And frankly, right now, I couldn't be happier to hear that.

A Super 8 kind of day.

Today I saw my Super 8 teacher, Tim Irwin, at my favorite Mexican restaurant EVER (after Mama Chu's). It is called El Mexiquense and it's in American Fork. You may think so far I am trying to plug this restaurant. I should because it's really good. Really, I am plugging Super 8. I loved that class. As we chatted I remembered all the films I shot and spliced and how much I loved them and how much he loved them and how I would play a Sonic Youth song with basically every film I made. And how this girl, who turned out to be my little sister's roommate later on, was obsessed with me (in a "Whoa, Lisa is so cool, I wish she'd talk to me") way. Now she's on a mission.

So I watched all my Super 8 films in my mind this afternoon. Especially the one I made while in Hawaii. I don't think I've ever made anything so beautiful in my entire life. Thing is, Maui did all the work.

Remember how like, a year ago on my mission, I would say I was going to live on Maui for three months after I got back? What happened to that? I am going to look into a job with the Maui Times. Who wants to be my roommate? I'm not picky.

Well then, I got an e-mail from Alex this afternoon which led me to this. Thank heaven for good friends who catch a sister up on all the great things she's missed, especially when they involve Super 8 in digital!

Everyone! Watch this video!

silla-viento-peces from nick dangerfield on Vimeo.

But you know what? Typically I get some kind of funky camera for Christmas every year, and then I don't use them. Well really I do, but I've been gone for a long time and they're in storage. Except my Holga, because I shot on that over Thanksgiving.

Have I mentioned my nephew is the greatest ever? Seriously, this kid is pretty amazing.





His new favorite song is Toto's "Africa," which is great considering I've had that and The Temper Trap's "Sweet Disposition" on repeat for two days straight. The kid can dance!

My dad was in town today. I picked him up last night and brought him to Lars. Lars is a 1993 GMC Suburban. He has seen better days, evidently, because he had lots of indigestion driving home to California, and a bad case of IBS last night. Anyway, both last night and today, my dad tried to convince me to settle in Utah. Why? He himself said he gets depressed every time he comes here. He used Trevor as the reason. And really, he's right. How can I live so far away from Trevor? I CAN'T! I would die from heartache. My hunch, however, is that my dad really wants all his ducks in a row here in Utah. Mmhmm. I love my pappy.

And I love you! (No, I love you!) No, I love you! (I spend WAY too much time with Trevor).

a moment, a love, a dream aloud

I have found the most perfect job in the entire world and it's in the most perfect city in the entire world and soon I will live there. I hope. And get the job.

I just drove home to Saratoga Springs from West Jordan, and I have to say it was the second scariest drive of my life. The first was when Alex and I drove to Saltair to see Iron and Wine. The snow was thick that night. I got some weird form of vertigo. We drove 25 mph for what seemed to be hours. I feared for my sanity more than my life. Tonight none of Redwood Road past Bangerter was plowed, so me and Alec braved the treacherous terrain, with our good friend Prayer buckled tight next to me. We made it just fine. Barely.

I found something today I forgot I had written. I remember exactly why I wrote it. Where I was when it happened. I know who I was with. I know who I wanted to be with. That's why I wrote it. And now, two years later, things are coming full circle. Somewhat.

Also, I am so in love with my nephew. And the Saturn should be resurrected by later this week.

NINJA

This morning, my bed is not a bed. It's a boat.

My nephew Trevor and I are sailing the high seas on the USS Aero Bed, blankie as our flag, adventure as our compass. His Little People are riding in their "alligator," aka elevator. And Trevor is in hog heaven, tucked and hazy from warmth and his beloved baba.

I don't think you could find a sweeter kid. I can't wait to have kids.

We're currently in a fighting match of who loves the other more. "I love you!" "No, I love you!" I think he's winning.

The longer I stay in Utah, the longer I feel the malaise of mediocrity and its effects on me and on others. I never excelled here. Personal choice, I'm sure. I love Utah, I really do. It's a gorgeous state. But each day I want to leave sooner than the last. So I will, as soon as I'm done playing with Trevor.

I've learned a lot about myself the past few weeks here. I am impatient with flakiness. I despise insincerity. I crave love as much as I desire to give it. I handle tribulation much better than I used to. I am frustrated when people say one thing, but act contrary to what they said.

Also, it's as hard as everyone says it is to keep up mission habits.

My dad has an acronym he likes to use to describe segments of the current LDS young single adult demographic: NINJA. No Income, No Job or Ambition. I fit that profile rather well right now.

Potential is something I thought extensively about as a missionary. What is my potential? How can I reach my potential? Most importantly, how can I help others recognize their own potential and help them reach it? I can't help but be sad when people I love, when I, don't do my best. I'm happiest when I do my best. I am not doing my best.

Happy Fast Sunday, everyone.

Mortality stinks. And rocks.

Today was the worst day I've had since coming home almost a month ago.

I began driving to dear Dave's home. My car overheated. I found an AutoZone. Bought some coolant and five quarts of oil. The Rat drank four of them. I made it to chez Bisson.

Awhile later, I boarded the freeway to meet Capree for lunch. On the way there, the Rat started making a knocking noise. Risking life I pulled over between the road and an on-ramp. I was at point of the mountain, the most treacherous stretch of I-15, if you ask me. Two nice gentlemen stopped to help, but they didn't really help.

I had a delicious philly cheesesteak sandwich for lunch at Cabela's with Mrs. Capree. It had swiss cheese on it. Swiss cheese is the best cheese to put on a philly cheesesteak sandwich.

After that I somehow made it to the garage in American Fork. Sara, who I was scheduled to see, happened to be there already. We drove to Provo together. Got a Big Gulp (a girl needs her sip after such a horrendous day). Right as Sara dropped me off at Alec, the garage called to tell me I would soon be out $2,000. No oil = wrecked motor.

And if you think today was crazy, I should tell you about yesterday! In brief, Margaret and I spent most of our day in Salt Lake City getting approved to substitute teach, and it was parade of the weirdos day. We saw so many bizarre things, one after another, including hand-blown glass clowns all over a swanky antique shop, the Back to the Future car, and Rick James!

And then last night, I went to ice cream with Megan at the Creamery, and my favorite picture has been taken down. I may have taken you for ice cream there to see the infamous picture. If you want to know why it was such a great photo, you need to ask me privately. I am too much of a lady to type such indecencies on the internet.

AND THEN I did sealings at the temple tonight, and since I was the only single person in the room, the boss guy kept making comments to help me "feel better" for being single. I wasn't upset about it (he was a very kind man), but it was completely unnecessary.

To top off my complaints, I put on my favorite owl pajamas just now and found my mom shrunk them so badly that they're at least three inches too short at the ankle, waist and arm.

On the bright side, I am considered a "real winner" by mothers and fathers alike. So prospective husbands, make note!

Also, I really love you.

By Paul Simon

Who will love a little Sparrow
Who's traveled far and cries for rest?
"Not I," said the Oak Tree.
"I won't share my branches with
no sparrow's nest,
And my blanket of leaves won't warm
her cold breast."

Who will love a little Sparrow
And who will speak a kindly word?
"Not I," said the Swan.
"The entire idea is utterly absurd.
I'd be laughed at and scorned if the
other Swans heard."

Who will take pity in his heart,
And who will feed a starving sparrow?
"Not I," said the Golden Wheat.
"I would if I could but I cannot I know,
I need all my grain to prosper and grow."

Who will love a little Sparrow?
Will no one write her eulogy?
"I will," said the Earth.
"For all I've created returns unto me,
From dust were ye made and dust ye shall be."

Not as lost as some

I aimlessly flipped through my sister's December '09 issue of Allure. Might as well reaquaint myself with the desperate and dicey sides of life, I figured.

I was stunned to find this.

Remember when "Hit Me Baby One More Time" came out and I liked it? Remember when she reigned the pop kingdom? This ad is evidence of a has-been. Why do entertainers keep trying to rebrand themselves? Everything about this photo is wrong. The name of the perfume, "Circus Fantasy." So, am I going to smell like a herd of elephants if I use this perfume? Is a calliope included in the packaging? Is there a free bonus offer for tickets to Ringling Brothers: Barnum and Bailey?

The world is much more pathetic after you've been out of it for 18 months. People's desperate attempts are petty, laughable and pathetic. Misdirected and ineffective. I gotta hand it to 'em for trying though. Especially the writer of that ad. They almost had me smelling the funnel cake.

Today I am updating my resume, putting together portfolios and looking for jobs. Wow! I pray that your prayers will be with me.

My homecoming talk went well, I guess. I honestly felt it was the worst talk I've ever given, but everyone in the congregation said it pretty much changed their lives. Yep, that's what He does for us.

I climb trees too.

I would also like to say that tomorrow I am giving my homecoming talk. How does one possibly sum up the most amazing time of his or her life in 20 minutes? It has been only 3.5 weeks, but it already feels like 3.5 years. Or like it never happened. Or like tomorrow I'm going back to St. Louis.

I don't know.

Remember that time we went to the McCords to help them pick cherries off their cherry tree? It was May. Sister Anderson shimmied down those branches like a ninja. I didn't know she could move like that.

I got sick off eating all those cherries.

Typical.

Rarely have I felt so normal.

When I started my mission, I struggled to find what was normal for me. I discovered that my worldly definitions of myself--my clothes, my music, my interests--were useless as a missionary. Suddenly I was stripped of everything familiar. Everything me. I based my identity in the base things of the world, things that have no value if they are gone.

I grew a lot. I learned who I am spiritually. I became me, who I truly am.

Ironically, I am experiencing something similar to what I did as a greenie. I am stripped of 24/7 spiritual saturation. Before I struggled to know myself without those comfortable worldly influences; now I'm struggling to define myself by those former companions. Do I really like vinyl? Yes. Does this outfit look okay? Why not. Do I care? No.

I can't even write worth a darn anymore. I don't care about that either.

Every RM goes through this identity crisis. Tips are appreciated.

What I have to look forward to

As far as I can tell, being an empty nester consists of the following:

1. Go out to eat. A lot.
2. When you do cook, eat leftovers most nights of the week.
3. Watch TV in separate rooms, on separate TVs, in separate easychairs, with a dog on your lap. Then fall asleep before you watch anything.
4. Aimlessly walk around Costco at least once a week.
5. Spend money on toys: Vespa scooters, Apple products, miscellaneous electronics.

I can judiciously say that after chillin' with my parents for the past week, they have a cushy life. I can't wait until I'm old.

I'll be in Utah starting Monday, so I'd better see ya!

Heavy metal machines

I went to a seminar with my dad last night. One of the foremost researchers on metal poisoning spoke. Basically, don't put any metal into your body, EVER! There is some evidence that metal (amalgams, or fillings, especially) can cause breast cancer. Metals also cause autoimmune diseases. I met a lady last night who had full-blown multiple sclerosis and was near death. This researcher lady, Vera, met with her, "demetaled" her, and her MS went away.

One of the most shocking things to me was the presence of titanium in so much of what we eat. Titanium is known to cause depression, and guess what's in anti-depressants? Titanium dixoide! It's also in many of our toothpastes, shampoos, makeup, even high fructose corn syrup! Don't even get me started on mercury and its presence in so much of what we eat.

I am thinking of a Masters in Social Work. Maybe.

I should have a cell phone today, but no promises. I do promise, however, that I love you!

Where am I?

I loved puzzles as a child. I loved big puzzles, 1000 pieces. Those big puzzles become unoriginal in shape after a time. Finding the right match can be difficult; two pieces may look like they fit, but they really don't.

That's kind of how I feel right now. I may look like I fit, but I really don't. But I'll get over it.

I'm coming to Utah on November 16. Maybe I'll see you then.

For the record, being a missionary is the best ever. Who knew a little piece of plastic could mean so much.