The one thing I am always lusting after.

Take a guess.









Despite the photos, it has little to do with children and animals.

I'm in the ER with my friend Megan. They just gave her delota. She's a little high.

Briefs.

Thanks to the original Erin Leigh for this gem.




And yes, it's real.

In other news, my life is figuring itself out very well, thank you. Also, I am sick.

Today I did sealings in the Provo Temple. The wife's name was Nicholas. Pretty sure there was an error there, but she and Martin are sealed nonetheless. Good thing heaven is error proof.

Loved ones gather at day's end.

I am packing up my life. My former life anyway.

As my final act as a California resident, I am going through my mission boxes, again, and purging my collection. I haven't done it since I've been home.

By now the initial pain and shock of not being a missionary is wearing off. It has worn off, mostly. But looking at all this memorabilia brings it right back. My many journals. Pictures the kids drew me, notes from investigators and members, recipes from my sisters I reacquainted with along the way. My cookbook from Mrs. Yoder, the Mennonite mother I met at Shriner's hospital, who was there with her daughter Rhoda. I loved Rhoda. She was eight at the time. Tiny thing, in Shriner's because one of her legs was longer than the other. She said to me, "Someday you must come to my farm and meet all my cows, chicken, sheep, goats, turkeys and horses. And my brothers." I told her I wanted to, very much. But she was out of the mission, so I couldn't.

I really miss being a missionary, and few things I have done since I've been home have paralleled even one iota in importance. Please forgive me for writing about this again and again. I do not vocalize how much I miss it. If I do, I cry. A lot. I look at my tags and I cry. I think of the people I taught, who were baptized, who struggle to stay active, and I cry. I know it's their choice, but I am sad for them still, especially when I think of what they went through to be baptized.

I think about serving again in the future, with my eternal companion. And I am very, very happy to think about this.

The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is where we find Christ's pure gospel. I love Him so very much.

The #1 reason why 2009 has to go.

Did you know the United Nations General Assembly declared 2009 the International Year of Natural Fibers?

Neither did I.

As stated by Wikipedia:

Tentatively, the objectives of the International Year of Natural Fibres would be:

• To raise awareness and stimulate demand for natural fibres;
• To encourage appropriate policy responses from governments to the problems faced by natural fibre industries
• To foster an effective and enduring international partnership among the various natural fibres industries;
• To promote the efficiency and sustainability of the natural fibres industries.

Polyester is waging war! Rayon is charging at full throttle! Nylon is holding cotton hostage!

Thanks for helping the world be a bit more peaceful in 2009, United Nations. We need you!

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.

Can't stop me now!

Everything is settled, including my nerves. Tonight I get set apart. Wednesday I begin my sojourn as a representative for my Savior, Jesus Christ, and His church. I cannot wait!

Please write me. You are my loyal friends and I love you. Letters and packages are accepted at either of these locations.

MTC (April 16 through about May 7):

Sister Lisa Marie Ruefenacht
Missouri St. Louis Mission
2005 North 900 East
Provo, UT 84604

Mission home (May 7 2008 until October 2009):

Sister Lisa Marie Ruefenacht

Missouri St. Louis Mission

745 Craig Road Ste. 306
Creve Coeur, MO 63141

Periodically, hopefully, someone in my family will update my blog with stories. Check back every once in awhile!

I love you and I love the gospel! I feel the healing powers of the Atonement every day and I feel continually converted to Christ through the Gift of the Holy Ghost. Study your scriptures, pray often and direct your thoughts toward good, and toward Christ. I challenge you all to do this! You will be blessed more than you can comprehend! It will change your life!

Love,

Sister Ruefenacht

What the heck?

Today I saw a bull humping a cow in some farmland off the side of the freeway. They were struggling to be discreet, situated behind a tree, but I guess there's really no such thing as being discreet when thousands of people are driving by you each minute.

If you read back a few entries, you can read a great story about my grandma growing up on a farm in Delta, UT. At least, I'm pretty sure I wrote about it.

Like the desert misses the rain.

There is something odd about missing someone. I think Alex said it best once: That when you really miss someone, you feel like you're dying. That's about how I feel right now.

The biggest mistake I've ever made (other than referencing that song in this post's title) was leaving Alex a week earlier than I'd originally planned to. His birthday is today, April 4, and there's a big Johan the Angel show with Musee Mechanique at Kilby Court. And I'm missing them both.

There's that song, "What A Difference A Day Makes," or maybe it's just an idiom, but I think it's an old song. Anyway, the only difference these days are making is that my suffering is being drawn out. The worst part is that I did this to myself.

I know in a few weeks I won't hurt like this anymore, but right now it's pretty much unbearable.

On the bright side, I'm at level 37 on Bubble Bobble, and I'm not as sick anymore (I was pretty sick all week). Other than that, life at home is its typical, boring self, and as much as I love my family, I can't wait to get back on schedule.

Passing fancies

Today I am crying. It started 20 seconds ago. I have tried to cry all week and couldn't.

I'm crying because my house is a mess. More about the reason than the mess. The bulk of my belongings are in storage. It's snowing in Provo and my winter clothes are packed away.

I'm crying because you stayed behind in the crowd. I'm crying because you didn't care if I left you. I'm crying because you didn't care to follow me. I'm crying because you'd rather be with other people than with me.

I'm crying because this is how I turn the page.

I'm crying because I still haven't sold my Mackbook Pro.

I'm crying because I give my farewell talk in two weeks.

And I'm crying because I'm listening to Chet Baker, and he's just so darn gorgeous.

Let me not be too consumed.

My new friend Martin isn't just any kind of friend. He's a duck. A baby duck. A duckling. He's soft and furry and yellow and makes this delicate little "cheep cheep" sound all day long. Only problem is in that last sentence--the "all day long" part. Because Martin won't freaking SHUT UP! I am just counting my blessings that I don't have to sleep in the same room as that annoying little brat! You can read more about him and watch videos of him on Tess' blog. It is definitely worth it, because I doubt any of you have seen a duckling in an attic apartment before.

Today I had my hair did by the magician Patrick Hoyal at Shep Salon in Provo Utah (book at least two weeks in advance). It is my mission haircut. Here is a picture. (Please excuse the bathrobe and poor lighting).


It is layered all around, which will work nicely with my waves in the humidity. It is also much darker than the blond it was only earlier today, which was necessary to soften the growout blow. It is the mark of beautiful craftsmanship all around, but I won't look like myself for a few more days. I guess I mostly don't like it because I left my dark hair behind a while ago. Dark hair is old Lisa. Blonder/lighter hair was new Lisa. And that was the Lisa I know. I guess I should probably stop defining myself by my hair though.

Things are changing very quickly. I move home to California next Tuesday. I leave on my mission three weeks from today (Wednesday). Sometime during those short weeks, Alex and I are breaking up. Suddenly I feel like my life is moving around me while I stand still. I have prepared for these things for a while, so now that they're happening, it only feels like a natural course. Like moving from one class to the other during passing period. There are little occurrences in each class period, but my sights are set on the end-of-the-day bell.

In anticipation of these changes, my brain has been blessing me with vivid and horrific dreams. Last week, I found myself the oldest of four siblings. My brother in the dream, who had terrifically blond hair, decided to murder everyone who was in our house at the time, which happened to be our old neighbors' house, which happened to be everyone we knew because we were hosting a party. After killing everyone but me and our other siblings, my brother fell exhausted in the master bedroom. During this time I swiftly packed my bags and left the house. I made it to the driveway and then the dream was over. No driving away. No walking into the sunset. It ended on the driveway.

"To dream that you are murdered, suggests that some important and significant relationship has been severed and you are trying to disconnect yourself from your emotions. It also represents your unused talents." - taken from Dreammoods.com

"To dream that you are a hostage, indicates that you are feeling victimized and powerlessness. You may also be feeling limited in your choices or physically immobilized. Perhaps this dream is paralleling some situation/difficulties in your daily life or relationship. Alternatively, it suggests that a part of yourself is not being fully expressed." - dreammoods.com

"To dream that you are being chased, signifies that you are avoiding a situation that you do not think is conquerable." - dreammoods.com

Last night I dreamed that I couldn't stop throwing up. I threw up on everything, like Chunk in the movie theater.

"To dream that you are vomiting, indicates that you need to reject or discard an aspect of your life that is revolting. There are some emotions or concepts that you need to confront and then let go." - taken from Dreammoods.com

Now that you know everything about me, I'm going to go stay out of sight for a long time.

My dreamcatcher

I have always been good at removing myself from the present and forgetting the past. Like going on vacation. I always know I'm going on vacation. I anticipate it. I know it's coming sooner and sooner but I don't really grasp that's what I'm doing until I'm there. And then when I'm back it's as if it didn't happen. I know I was there. I remember being there. But I'm not there anymore so it didn't happen.

This is how my whole life feels. Like a mirage that I know I saw but that I have no proof of. Like how the highway 100 feet ahead looks like water in the summertime, but then you get close to it and it disappears.

Yesterday I got a notice in the mail saying my car registration had been revoked because my dad forgot to notify the state of Utah that my car was indeed insured. Today the radio and clock shorted suddenly and came back on even more suddenly. And then I got a flat tire. And Alex and I missed Summer and Smoke for the second night in a row.

In honor of myself

I once felt this really described me. It still does, but not right now.

"So she had to satisfy herself with the idea of love - loving the loving of things whose existence she didn't care at all about. Love itself became the object of her love. She loved herself in love, she loved loving love, as love loves loving, and was able, in that way, to reconcile herself with a world that fell so short of what she would have hoped for. It was not the world that was the great and saving lie, but her willingness to make it beautiful and fair, to live a once-removed life, in a world once-removed from the one in which everyone else seemed to exist." --Everything Is Illuminated

Sing me to sleep, Morrissey.

Earlier today I saw the best art show I've seen at BYU, probably ever. It's a graphic design show that joins art, top notch design and current affairs. There is a fine line between preachy and well-done when the state of the world is involved, but, my friends, this show is amazing. Do yourself a favor if you live in Utah and go the fifth floor of the HFAC.

Tonight I rode my bike for four hours, so I'm in a weird frame of mind. It is a Big Fish night.

Riding my bike is one of the only things that puts me into an elevated mental state. I'm not sure what it is about it--maybe the constant motion, the wind in my hair, the alone-but-not-aloneliness, the logical sense that bicycles make--but I just know I feel like a different person when I'm on my bike. I feel like I'm more myself than any other time. This is at least true for Provo.

I said once that I forget who I am in Provo, and it's true. For some reason my being has never been able to fully integrate here. There have been admirable stretches of time where I felt completely at home, but I've never been 100% settled. I have dissected this time and again, but I always reach the same conclusion. Or maybe I'm just over-thinking this like I always do.

There have been quite a few men in my life who've referred to me as the coolest girl they've ever met. Ironically, these men have always been my best friends. Some briefly lovers, but mostly just friends. I have dissected this time and again also, but I always reach the same conclusion: I am still waiting for someone other than Kimba who always wants to be with me.

Doo-wop, doo-wop

The one month countdown starts today.

Yay!

Outdone

My favorite improv troupe--Improv Everywhere--has finally outdone itself. I love you, IE.

Ode to Sorrow

It is with great sadness that I inform you of two things.

1) My car was egged last week. I failed to notify you. Here is evidence.





2) I am selling my Macbook Pro, which severely breaks my heart. Included is a Mighty Mouse, rad computer case, and AppleCare. I also have a good Canon printer--never opened the box--for sale. I'm willing to sell one or all of these items to you or someone you know. Put the word out. Help a sister missionary out.

I'm breaking up with you, Ziggy.

Here is why.

1. In high school when we were in my room with my door shut, my parents would get really mad at me.
2. You are too needy.
3. You've sucked my little brother under your spell.
4. You make me act silly and goofy.
5. Last night, because of you, I got a speeding ticket coming home from Park City. It was your fault Ziggy, not mine. If the buildup from "Moonage Daydream" to "Starman" were less good, it wouldn't have happened.

I'm sending you the bill, David Bowie.

In honor of my brain.

Megan posted this lovely link recently. I would love it if you all would indulge me (although many of my readers read Megan's blog as well. In that case, don't bother overlapping). But if you don't read Megan's blog, please go to this link, and then leave a comment telling me which way she spins for you!

For the record, she spins clockwise for me, which means I'm right-brained. If I try really hard, I can get her to spin the other way.

I ask you this:

How is Billy Joel so amazing?!?!

No man makes me feel the way you do, Billy. Not even Jeff.

Oh-oh-oh, the sweetest thing.

I've said it before and I'll say it again: Life would be pretty bad without Jeff Buckley. He is all I want and all I need.

Today I thought, "I should call Dave and see if he wants to go for a walk or a bike ride. I haven't spent quality time with him in awhile. Wait. I don't think Dave rides bikes." And then I imagined Dave on a bike and it seemed awkward to me, so I didn't call him.

A few hours later, I found myself riding my bike down the Provo River Trail, my bum sore from my ride the day before. I soon came upon a couple walking along. The man was in a green shirt, much like Dave's. Hey, that's just like Dave's shirt, I thought. Then I got closer and said, Hey, the back of that head looks like the back of Dave's head, only with a haircut. Then I said, "On your left," and the guy freaked out just like Dave. Then the guy stopped and the girl stopped and then I stopped because it actually WAS Dave!

Tonight Tess and I went to FHE for the first time in ages. It was at Brother Miller's. Brother Miller and his family are the absolute best and I really hope I can be just like them someday. Brother Miller teaches a Japanese Lit. class at BYU about Haruki Murakami. Yes--THE Murakami. One day in church we had a brief discussion about "The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle." I'd just finished reading it and was completely thrown. He didn't have much to say though, other than, "Yes. It's a very weird book."

Their kids invented this spin the bottle game where you have to kiss the person the bottle lands on, so we played that at FHE. Okay, JK! Not even funny. They did invent a spin the bottle game, but not that one. They spin the bottle, and then whoever it lands on picks a topic out of a little basket. I picked "Annoying Little Kid," so I proceeded to tell a story about how annoying I was as a child, how I always broke stuff and made up songs to taunt my siblings. I still make up songs, but luckily they're not to taunt anyone. Tonight my friend Annie and I did my taxes, and I made up this song: "Giving money to the man is no fun/I hope my taxes are almost done." That's as far as I got before the Accounting Lab populace turned to look at me for doing something non-left brained.

Anyway, it's 10:36--past this missionary's bed time! I LOVE YOU (as long as I know you in person).

Chain of events ending in bad cologne.

This morning I arrived at the school I work at twice a week. The doors were locked. No school today, I thought. Someone came and opened the door for me.

Shortly after I'd launched into my work, the phone rang, so I answered it like a good little receptionist, even though that's not what they pay me for. It was a man named Kim and he needed to speak to someone. I took a message and that was that.

So just now, there were a few loud knocks on my window. It freaked me out! I am pretty jumpy with stuff like that. After hearing this nut walk up and down the side of the school knocking on all the windows, I decided to go check things out. It was Kim, locked out of the school!

"Are you Pat?" I asked. Pat? Now where did I get that?
"No, I'm Kim."
"Oh right, Kim. I'm sorry. I spoke to you on the phone earlier."
"Oh, nice to meet you," Kim said, extending his arm and placing his hand on my shoulder.
Wait. What?
Kim smelled like 20-year-old dollar store cologne. I held my breath as I said,
"Let me walk you down to the kindergarten."
Luckily the kindergartners weren't there today, because Pat/Kim, in his BYU hat and nauseating scent, was too much for even this 22-year-old to handle.
"You saved the day my darling," he said, his hand finding its way back to my arm, lingering too long to be considered socially acceptable, his eyes doing the same with my face.

I can still feel his hand where it caressed my bare flesh. Gross!

Pumping iron, the best kind around.

This is a special time in my life.

It's special because I feel like I'm finally getting to know myself. Which is ridiculous. I've always known myself really well, really thoroughly. But only recently have I begun feeling connected with every emotion in my body. More alive. More focused and more driven.

Today I saw my freshman year second counselor's wife at the school I was at. Who knew she taught there? I sure didn't, and I've been to that school half a dozen times. She immediately recognized me. We chatted. What love! This woman had a gift. I felt so special and memorable. I love her!

Last night I got a phone call from my mom. Seems my mission president sent me a nice little addendum to the fat packet he sent me a few days before. Sister Ruefenacht will be a BIKING sister missionary! That's right! I'll be speeding through the streets of St. Louis on the best mode of transportation of all--the bicycle!

I cannot express accurately how excited I am for this. I will tell you this, however. I wanted to go stateside, English-speaking. I was called to the work speaking English in St. Louis, MO. I wanted to find cute clothes and red shoes. I found the most amazing outfits ever, and those slick shoes. I wanted to ride a bike. I wanted maximum efficiency in terms of touching people with the gospel--through the spirit--and the happiness it brings. I was granted my request!

So people, what I am really saying is that I have a testimony of the gospel and I cannot wait to share it!

But back to the bike issue: unfortunately, it is really cold in Utah right now, and I am a chicken when it comes to the cold. Which means my bike is still locked up out back and hasn't seen the light of day since November or so. Whatever! I will have legs of steel come October 2009!

I am often forgetful.

Now I'm getting down to the nitty gritty.

One of my favorite things when I come home is how my dad wakes me up sometimes. He doesn't do it so much now that I'm older and keep a regular schedule. I mean come on, I said in my first entry for today that I woke up at 7:15. What parent would complain with that?

But this morning my dad had to leave pretty early to get to Oroville. I don't know how far away it is, but it's far enough that he had to leave before the sun was up. So he came into my room right before he left and woke me up gently with a few pats on the shoulder as he always used to do, and said goodbye. It always hurts saying goodbye to my dad.

I sat up halfway and gave him a big hug. Somehow my mom found his most favorite cologne online, a scent so atrocious it had been discontinued by most stores. Thank you, Amazon. So I sat up and hugged him, his Realm scent accosting my nostrils.

But my favorite part is after he's left. He's always just barely sprayed on his Realm, so in the process of our hug some of it jumps over to my neck from his neck. And then I can still smell him after he's left.

My dad used to do this same thing every morning when I was little, and I used to like it because I got to carry around a little bit of my dad every day, even though he was off drilling people's teeth and I was at school doing stuffs.

It's just one of those days.

For the record, I hate those days when I know I should wash my hair, but I won't because I don't want to blow dry it. So I end up just washing my bangs, because somehow I feel like washing my bangs freshens up my whole head of hair. Really, it doesn't. The rest is still dirty and I still feel like I'm camping, but at least my bangs are looking hott.

Today is one of those days.

It's good enough for me.

There are few things I like better than the morning I just had.

Awoke at 7:15, laid in bed until 7:41. Got up to discover I had a horrible neck-ache.

Ate some fruit snacks and a Diet Coke, watched Saved By The Bell, then my TiVo'd episode of CSI with Phoebe on my lap.

Went upstairs and checked my e-mail, surfed the web. Text from Thayne. Did my makeup while listening to Loney, Dear and OPD. Still listening to OPD.

Chatting with Bob online. Blogging. Watching Price is Right. Listening to OPD. Trying to convince myself to dress. Not so bad for 10:20.

Today we are not shopping for clothes. Today I am going to World Market to buy Alex his favorite licorice candy and to Trader Joe's for my favorite soup and to Whole Foods for my favorite English muffins. Then I am going to the DMV to get a copy of my driving record for my mission prez.

Then I'm going to In and Out burger for the fourth and final time. Then I'm catching my flight. Then Alex will pick me up. Then I will give and receive a big hug and kiss. Then I will be smiling.

I feel like my entries have been boring and uneventful lately. Sorry.

Special things a-brewin'.

There are few nights when I feel like listening to Elliott Smith, mostly because I think his music is depressing, but tonight is the perfect night. I'm not sad or anything. He just fits. It's comfortable.

I've been home the past week shopping for mission clothes. Here is my outfit that I will only wear when I'm around my mission president.



Last week I went through the temple. I really loved it! What a cool place. I am going again tomorrow with my mom and her Relief Society. Here I am with my mom and my sister. Guess which is which!



Okay, I'm giving it away. Here is me with my mom and dad, who I love so very very much! They are the absolute most.



I had no clue how much planning and preparation my mission wardrobe would take. It has taken us longer than expected to organize and purchase everything. I got here last Tuesday and I was supposed to go home last night, but we still weren't done so I changed my flight.

My mom and I have been shopping non-stop since Thursday morning, excluding Sunday. I HATE shopping in the first place, so this weekend has been a nightmare. Like I said in an earlier post, it's been like "What Not To Wear" gone bad! Today my mom, the ultimate shopper, said, "I didn't think I could ever get burned out on shopping, but I'm about to reach my limit!" I couldn't believe she said it. Her favorite pastime is shopping! Some of my earliest memories consist of shopping in the very shopping center we shopped in! But one can only buy so much before consumerism is a curse.

All in all, I feel really good with my purchases. I don't think I would wear any of the skirts outside of a mission, but they're still cute, cut in flattering, feminine styles with nice fabrics. Luckily Banana Republic saved me on blouses, so I have a bunch of nice shirts in really rich colors. (I have always liked rich colors. One time during my amazing year living with Capree, she said, "I really like wearing rich colors." "Do I wear rich colors?" I said. "Yeah, duh!" she replied. "You're wearing purple and yellow right now, none of that stupid faded crap." And I still dislike stupid faded crap. Give me primary colors!)

Guess where I found the bulk of my clothes? Sears! My mom has raised me on Nordstrom, Gap, Macy's, etc., so I have never even been in a Sears before except with my dad for the power tools section, but I just had a good feeling about Sears. We went and found so much cute stuff! I got this really great linen suit, perfect for the summertime (but not perfect for my ironing pet peeve). Even my mom got a skirt! It was a great experience for us all.

If you know me in real life (Google Analytics tells me some of you probably don't, but that's okay), you know I LOVE red shoes. They really define me and my fashion sense. Luckily, Ecco makes a delightful pair of red, patent leather mary janes, that are stylish AND practical! Of course I HAD to have them!

Here they are!
I love them so much.

My mom and I have had a blast hypothesizing the things ward members will say about them. "Have you seen the sister missionary with the red shoes?" "Hey, Dorothy!" "Where's Toto, Sister Ruefenacht?" But basically I am in heaven, and so are my feet. To quote Elliott Smith, "Dontcha know that I love you?" Yes, red shoes, you should.

And with that I retire. Goodnight and love to you all.

Juicy Couture? No, thank you!

So, PS on the previous entry.

I have a bunch of different tabs in my Firefox bookmark toolbar. I have Design, with all my cool design web site links, Me--all the essentials, Music--all the music reading essentials, News--self-explanatory, Blogs, Church, and now...Mission clothes. I made it last night after posting my last entry.

I don't think I've mentioned that my adorable nephew is here at my parent's house this week. We just had a great photo shoot. Look at how amazingly handsome and wonderful he is!





Oh woops! I got mixed up! They're both so amazingly wonderful and handsome, I couldn't tell them apart!



Yay! I love le Trev Trev.

Also, I am listening to my sister talk to her husband on the phone right now, and they are hilarious. Their conversations consist of "The Apprentice" recaps, the new restaurants opening up, shopping, Broadway Plaza's upcoming expansion (the yuppie shopping place in Walnut Creek that is apparently getting a Saks Fifth Avenue soon), and where we're going to dinner tonight. "I want to go to Yankee Pier," says Becky. "That will be too expensive," says Mom. Neither consults me, and I don't even like fish!

Anyway, this week at home has been good and I am tempted to stay longer. Except that my dad keeps giving me "homework" assignments, none of which I have completed, because he thinks I'm not doing enough preliminary preparation for my mission. I think I'll be fine!

Now I am going to run some errands, including getting some pizza from Cheeseboard! YUM!

Catch 'em, catch 'em, gotta catch 'em all!

Today marked day one of two important things. First: Day One as a G-wearing individual, and Second: Day One of mission clothes mania. The former is amazing and I love it. The latter feels like a bad episode of What Not to Wear.

Today I got four blouses. One is sky blue with these cute buttons on the cuff. Two more are from BR. They are the same style--short-sleeved with cute, puffy sleeves. One is white and the other is a fuschia color. The last blouse is gorgeous. Lavender (not my favorite--remember, I loathe wearing pastels). The detail that makes it all worth it, however, is the french cuffs. French cuffs are the hippest thing since Kristal, so I'm totally digging this blouse.

Next, I got two nice skirts and a nice suit jacket to accompany them. The jacket really goes better with the longer of the two skirts, but I think I can probably work it with either if I have to. They're black, of course.

This is the jacket. I won't be buttoning it all the way to the top, however. What do you think? Do you think a more traditional jacket with lapels would be better?


Next is the skirt that hits at mid-calf, and then there's a long skirt that has a little flounce at the bottom.

Basically, they're all just all right. I look very missionary-like in them. I was looking on nordstrom.com tonight and found some nice skirts that I like better. We'll see what my mom says. I'm picky and testy and I should probably just chill.

Tonight my friend Grace called to say she received her mission call! Betcha can't guess where she's going! NO! Not St. Louis, MO. She's going to Independence, MO! Right next to me. Also, she enters the MTC a week after I do. I can't wait to hang out together!

I am in probably 75 percent mission mode. Wish me luck.

Cilantro wins my taste bud's Lifetime Achievement Award.

Today I found out two amazing things.

Number one: There are four--count 'em, FOUR--Trader Joe's in the St. Louis area. FOUR! Do you know what that means? It means I won't have to have my mom ship me my favorite foods! Well, as long as TJ's is in my area. But with four, there are pretty good odds for at least a portion of my mission.

Number two: I have found my foodie soulmate. I stumbled across her recipe blog this afternoon while searching out a new recipe that included black beans and cilantro. My new friend Kalyn is located only a short distance away in Salt Lake City. I'm thinking I might just have to pay her a visit one of these days and learn how things are done in the kitchen. My favorites I found while searching today are baked Swiss chard stems and black bean and rice soup with lime and cilantro. Basically, I have never met anyone else who so honestly expresses their undying love for cilantro. She is amazing.

I have countless other things to mention, but I would prefer going to bed.

Please excuse the poor quality.

I returned home from Alex's tonight (He's back!) to find this note posted on my door.




Now, I take some of the blame for this. Up until a few weeks ago, I had an open network! That's like giving away money. But just because I was an idiot doesn't mean Peter's no crook.

I am not sure where Peter lives (creepily enough, he knows where I live), but I'm definitely calling him tomorrow. I think the first thing I thought of to say to him is the best: "Sure Peter, we can share my internet. You can start by paying me for all the months you've been leeching off of me."

Free Britney.

I have failed to mention up until this point that St. Louis, Missouri is the place where my mom's side of the family, the Moody's, joined the church. Of course, they were Lockhead's back then. Or Lock's. Or some other name I don't know. I just know that my great-grandma Marie, who I am named after, joined the church there thanks to a young Spencer W. Kimball. It is no coincidence I am being sent back there.

I am taking the next step in my spiritual progression on February 27th. I am excited. I haven't had the chance to surmount any quantifiable benchmarks since I was eight, so I'm looking forward to this one.

Most of you don't know that I hate using public restrooms. I put up with them like everyone else does, but I really hate them. There is nothing worse than smelling a stranger's excrement. Today I had a most unpleasant experience at Provo Town Centre. Luckily, Dear Bob was with me, so I had someone to complain to when exiting. Men don't have this problem.

One time Capree found a gigantic something-or-other in an HFAC toilet. It was so other-worldy and impossible that, after she'd told me about it, we actually went back to school to get a better look at it. It was the most disgusting thing I've ever seen, and that's saying a lot because there's a lot of gross stuff created in the HFAC. But this was unsurpassable in terms of grossness.

I don't know why I'm talking about this. Mostly because it's 1 a.m., and by 1 a.m. I apparently digress into an 11-year-old boy.

I am going to track down this boy's descendants.

May 9, 1910. St. Louis, Mo. "Newsboy. Little Fattie. Less than 40 inches high, 6 years old. Been at it one year." Photo by Lewis Wickes Hine, courtesy of Shorpy.

St. Louis Missouri, English-speaking, April 16!

SO EVERYONE!!!!

I knew my mission call would come Wednesday, today, my mom's birthday. I just knew it would. But 6 pm rolled around and it still wasn't in my hands, though neither was the day's mail. I was about to go console myself with a milkshake when I heard a knock at the door. A knock? No one knocks at my door except the UPS man. So I went down the stairs and saw a hooded man through my peep hole. A hooded man? With a messenger bag! What? I opened the door and that man, my postman!, was holding the most beautiful white envelope I've ever seen. Sister Lisa Marie Ruefenacht, it said, from the Office of the First Presidency. "Sorry it's so late," he said, his eyes gleaming, his mouth smiling. "Thank you so much!" I said breathlessly. I ran upstairs as fast as my still-fatigued-from-Jump-On-It! legs could go, clutching those precious papers to my bosom. I ran like a scared mouse for the next minute, called my mom squealing, began making a mental list of people to call. By 6:30, I'd called everyone in the Provo area, and even had a webcast set up for my friends who couldn't make it. (My degree IS worth something!) So with that, I opened my call around 7:15 pm among excellent company. There was Regan, Carl, Britt and Brett, Katie, Andrew and Liz (Alex's brother and sister), Sam, Jim and Laura, Dave and Chris there with me; plus Alex, my parents, my Aunt Diane and Uncle Jack, my brother Michael, Jeff, Bob, and Becky, Brandon and Trevor by phone; and then there was Megan, Luke, Capree and Brady by webcast! Wunderbar!

Megan captured the whole thing perfectly in her blog. My oh my, do I love that girl. She is a champion blogger!!

Even though Alex wasn't there, Robert won't know until probably Saturday when my letter reaches him, and my parents were 850 miles away, it was the best mission call opening I'll ever have, and I can't wait to do it again when I'm older!

Watch the whole webcast here.

I think it's easy to be disappointed when one isn't called to a foreign mission, but where in Europe can you buy Rap Snacks? For the record, I'm not disappointed one bit! The St. Louis mission will be my home for 18 months and I can't wait!

I am so excited and honored to be serving in the St. Louis mission!! Sister Home Girl--here I come!

I'd better go study my Bible now!!!

I want to be on Coney Island.

I'm not sure what prompted me, but today, for the first time in at least four years, I listened to Death Cab's "The Photo Album." Why I've stayed away from this album for so long, I can't tell you. A mental lapse I suppose. An interest into more avant-garde, more obscure names to drop alongside my IHOP pancakes after shows. A genuine interest. I mean, what rejuvenation! Heart, mind, body and soul. I know my remedy for the blues now. But tonight I reconnected with this old friend, and I think we will be friends at least until the end of the week.

Tonight Bob, Page, their roommates and I went to Jump On It!, a miraculous place in Lindon, UT that features wall-to-wall gymnastic trampolines for your jack rabbiting pleasure. I loved it. I absolutely loved it and I can't wait to go back. I flashed back multiple times to my childhood days spent pounding on neighbor's and friend's trampolines; to be back in that realm soothed my soul. It also made me flash back to the multiple times I got hurt on trampolines, like the time I sprained my knee, and the time we were playing popcorn and I was a kernel and got bounced right off the tramp. And then the time my piano teacher's teenage son landed on a five-year-old me because he was jumping too high to remain in control. But like I said, I can't wait to go back.

Then we went to IHOP and got free pancakes. Did you know it was free pancake day? Betcha didn't. We all got a free short stack, on the condition we'd consider donating to the Children's Miracle Network. But I'm sure you can guess what I did.

Every once in a while I get this one lick from a song Frank Sinatra made famous in my head. It's from "Somewhere Along the Way." Frank croons: "I try to forget, but in the loneliness of night I start remembering everything. You're gone and yet there's a feeling deep inside that you will always be part of me." The only part I ever focus on is the loneliness of night, because some nights I just start feeling lonely for no reason, sometimes for a reason but sometimes for no reason, and I remember that if I just go to sleep that loneliness will be gone the next day. And it almost always is.

I want to serve my mission on Coney Island--the Coney Island mission, Freak-speaking. I would go tracking to all the carnie shacks and game booths. People would be in the Freak Show and I would come around with church materials and Books of Mormon. They would be in line at Nathan's and I would come around with a pamphlet that had a picture of a hot dog with the caption: "Fulfills the body temporarily," and then on the inside would be a picture of Jesus Christ with the caption, "Fulfills the soul permanently." People would eat it up! I would stand on a wooden milkcrate at the corner of Surf and Mermaid and let everyone know what they were missing. It would be so nice. But it would never really happen.

There are other things on my mind and I want to write about them, but I don't want some of you to read them. So this is all I will say about those things, and I hope they will stop bothering me after this. They won't though.

Recast as child and mystic sage

Last night, Alex, his brother Andrew, my sister Katie and I (it was a double date!) saw Persepolis. You must see it if you haven't! We got back to Provo and we built a fire on Utah Lake! I was the usual party pooper for the first bit, skeptical and scared and altogether lame, but I must say, if anyone wants to have a fire out there again, I'm game. Whatever happened to my old, don't-give-a-darn self? I am bringing it back.

My mission call most definitely arrives this week. It is both surreal and very scary. I am signing my life away for 18 months but to a source I trust and love and am so devoted to. My dear friends, I am sitting here crying with fear and faith, with excitement and anxiety. I had no idea how hard this would be, how right everyone was who said it would be hard. I lay in bed last night, thinking about how painfully I miss my dear brother Robert who returns from his mission in August. I won't see him for such a long time. He is my best friend, like all my siblings are to me, and I won't see him for so long. Today is the first day I've actually thought, "No! I don't want to go!" But then I settle down and I remember the feelings I had when I first decided to go and the accompanying confidence and motivation and peacefulness. I think about my future children and how I will be a better mother. I re-read letters sent to me by my dear, best friends who are serving missions right now. They all agree they have never done anything better with their lives. Am I strong enough? Am I faithful enough? Am I qualified enough? Will I be effective? I want to go and I am going to go, and it will only continue to be hard. Difficulty builds character! If I've learned anything in my 22 years of life, it's that. Every time life has delivered some blows, I've risen above and conquered and become even more of the person I want to be. I can't wait to tell you where I'll be serving! Just to know that there is one, single-most important place for me to be is intensely humbling.

My family used to live in a house on Clarkson Court. It was white with blue trim and had a tree that shed little pods all over the place. Our neighbor hated how it encroached on his property and soiled his lawn, so one Saturday, he took out his chainsaw and cut all the branches that passed the property line. Our automatic garage door opener didn't work, so every time we pulled up to the house, my mom would have to get out of our "Mickey Van," as Robert called it, and manually yank the door open. One summer, my dad, a notorious do-it-yourselfer, jackhammered out the concrete walkway and porch and laid a stone one. He dug a well in our backyard and I'm not sure we ever got water out of it. But my earliest memories are in that backyard. One the right side of the yard, Dad built us a gigantic sandbox that doubled as the neighborhood litter box. On the left side, we planted corn and tomatoes, cauliflower, eggplant, brussel sprouts and broccoli, and when harvest time came, we kids would sit among the corn stalks, picking ears of corn wearing nothing but diapers. One day there was a solar eclipse, so Robert and I sat outside and watched it all day with special glasses Mom got us. We were so young. I was no older than four. Another day when Dad was working in the garden--I think it may have been the day he decided to finally lay sod on the barren dirt--Robert and I sat at our fire orange Little Tykes table and ate dirt all day. I had a broken radio antenna that I used to break up the dirt clods. Mom has photos of our feast so I can prove this. I liked to eat things I wasn't supposed to a lot. I ate probably five cans of Play-Dough as a child. To this day I am a sucker for brightly colored foods.

I have been accused of being a romantic before. Being a dreamer or an idealist (though I'm also a renowned cynic--a realist, I say). Maybe I am romanticizing these events to an extent, but really, I don't think I am, because when I'm home with my family and we start reminiscing, our eyes glaze over simultaneously and suddenly we are transported back to Clarkson Court and I am three wearing only a diaper in the corn patch and then I am four and Robert is three and he's running out on the street wearing his underwear on his head and then I am three reading a book about Cinderella and I'm in the hospital with my mom because she just miscarried and then Michael is born and he has to have tubes put in his ears so he can hear and then Katie is a baby sitting in her car seat and I watch her umbilical cord fall out and it's so gross and then Becky and I put Robert's curly locks into pigtails and then we are wearing our matching Minnie Mouse shirts and our parents are tucking us into our bunkbeds that Papa Walter made and after they leave the room we laugh about how Becky made me steal baby Robert's bottle from him while he napped in his crib wearing the neon green Batman sunglasses he stole from Orchard Supply Hardware because he didn't know it was wrong.

I would never go back and do this again because it could never be done as well. But I can't wait to do it when I am in my Mom's shoes.

And lastly...

You earned it!

   meganruthstay: Oh and P.S.  Alex is a sweetie, I'm glad he's so supportive of you

Cuz if he wasn't I'd have to crush his bones to makemy bread

Crumbles

Some nights I wish I could freeze myself in one moment and let time continue around me until the morning. Things are always better in the morning.

My papers officially went in last Tuesday, which is great, except now I play the waiting game. The thought has crossed my mind to move home. Waiting here is excruciating, at least it is tonight. I feel like I'm in some netherworld limbo. I'm caught between transport bays on a Starfleet ship. I'm swimming upstream in a rushing river. I'm lost in the Delta quadrant. I've been watching too much Star Trek.

I wish I had more thrilling things to say, but I'm pretty boring right now. Nothing new to mention.

I just love you all a lot.