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.

And another thing...

The world is only getting more evil, my friends. Here is the latest example. At the end of the article is a petition. Sign it if you feel so inclined.

Stonecutters made them from stones.

With my newfound boredom, I've decided to finally start an internal cleansing system. It's something I've wanted to do for a long time, but I never found a program I really thought I could do. Finally I found the Master Cleanse.

Today is day one. Last night I drank a nice herbal laxative tea before hitting the sack, and first thing this morning I drank a full quart (32 oz) of water with sea salt. This concoction acts as a colonic. I never want to drink that much salt water in one sitting again. I feel so sick. Apparently, the sickness I am feeling is because I'm releasing toxins in my body. In a little bit, I start drinking 6 to 12 ten-ounce glasses of a lemon/maple syrup mixture. I will spare the you the unpleasant details of what's been happening in my bowels this morning. Ask me how I am in three days. I figure if I can make it until Sunday, I will be clean enough.

I was a lazy bum today and slept until 10:30. I didn't even wake up before that. I just kept sleeping and sleeping. Unfortunately, I also missed two substitute teaching jobs. Starting tomorrow, I awake at 6:30 am. Time to get in gear.

Requires the grace, requires the skill.

Today is my fifth day since my ABC hiatus started. There are few feelings that compare to the feelings of worthlessness and laziness I get when I have no purpose in life. I don't get up until 10 most days, something I didn't even do in high school when you were supposed to be lazy. Why would I get up any earlier? It's not like I have anywhere to be.

The one task on my list for today is to visit my doctor who screwed up on my medical exam form for my mission papers. After that I'll probably get a soft-serve somewhere. Other than that I am completely, insanely free. I'll end up cleaning the house a few times while listening to Billy Joel, the ultimate woe-is-me music. Tomorrow I have orientation for substitute teaching, which pays $50 a day. Maybe I'll stop by Costco. I hear they pay $12 an hour.

Every day I hear of another friend who's gotten engaged. Well, maybe every three days. I am very happy for all these friends. It just baffles me because at 22 years old, I am just not ready, so I can't relate to other 22-year-olds being ready. Does that make sense? I think the only exception for me was Brady and Capree, because they were more like 26 to me. Anyway.

My new favorite quote came to me in a letter from my dear friend Sister Stevens, who just arrived at her first area as a greenie in the Lubbock, Texas mission.

President Hinckley said, "Many young women are serving missions. Many are preparing to serve, not because they aren't married or have nothing else to do, but because they have a desire to serve, and therefore are called to the work. The reason so many are going is because in the next generation, Heavenly Father will be sending his priesthood army to the earth. He wants to send them to mothers who have been properly trained and taught in the Gospel."

And that, friends, is the number one reason I am serving a mission, and the number one reason why you should consider one if you desire to.

Sorry all I blog about now is serving a mission, but it owns the majority of my thoughts.

Also, my papers will be officially submitted today!!!

Thanks to a tip from Bobby Glass, this pick earns Photo of the Day in the Active Little Peanut Gallery.

Everything is in its right place.

My mission go in this week! Yay! But they issue calls on Thursdays, so I probably won't be issued a call until next week, and then there's the whole waiting-for-the-mail-to-come thing. Anyway. It will be soon.

I have been mostly elated with the response I've received. Most of my friends and loved ones understand what a great thing this is, and that it will forever better my life and the lives of those I teach. Two people said particularly hurtful things which didn't make things easier, but this path is the right one. I'm going, and I couldn't be happier or more at peace with this choice. I will forever treasure this time, and my future family will only be made better for it.

Last night I found out I'm more or less out of a job. I've mentioned the hiring freeze before, which means I can't officially be hired, so I'm freelancing. That actually worked out for the best. However, last night, because the company that owns ABC-4 is such a butt, they laid it out on my boss that they can't even have contract laborers (meaning me, a freelancer). So, I should find out this week if I have a job. Otherwise, I am officially unemployed. What will I do with all this free time? I have no clue. Read a lot of books I guess. Write a lot of blogs I guess. Be a whole lot of bored I guess.

I have been writing a lot of short stories in my head lately, but I never write them down. I think that's what I have all these journals scattered around my room for!

Love Lisa

Read this.

Article of the day

Writings to come later.

No we won't.

BBC's top story right now is about the bloodlust presently occurring in Kenya. Police have issued a "shoot-to-kill" death warrant against the people protesting elections they believe were rigged. Will the U.S. step in? No. Should we? If Kenya asks for help. Will we? No. If you've seen "Hotel Rwanda," you know we won't.

That's all I have for the moment.

Somebody help me, yeah!

I have many habits I'm proud of and many I'm not.

The one I'm most disgusted with today is the most recent addition to my habit rolodex: the 44-oz. Diet Coke with root beer or Sprite (already a long-standing regular) coupled with The Hole.

The Hole bills itself as the biggest donut in Utah. Really, it's no bigger than a donut from any grocer, but it is tastier. I find myself succumbing to the Hole for its moist, delicately deep-fried, cake innards, its drizzled white frosting, and--best of all--the rainbow sprinkles. Since I was a kid, I could never say no to white frosting and rainbow sprinkles. It is both the combination of supreme elation and long-suffering death. While I love this donut, I completely LOATHE it. It is rapidly securing a prominent spot in my lunch hour (and on my waistline).

Someone please, deliver me!!

I am surrounded by [insert noun here].

Has anyone noticed how much The Price is Right sucks now? I really like Drew Carey, but he doesn't even hold a tea light to Bob Barker's sunshine. They don't even play the same schmaltzy music anymore! What a bummer.

You're still all in the dark, but I figure I can make an official announcement: I decided I'm serving a mission. This decision came after weeks and weeks of uneasiness, of stress, of worry, of discontentment over my choice to start working at ABC. I started my job and these feelings only got worse. It was awful. Some of you experienced the awfulness with me (thank you, by the way). So I started thinking, "I need to find a new job." But that didn't sit right either. I knew it was time to seriously consider serving a mission. The more I thought about it, the happier I became, the calmer my emotions, the more peaceful my heart. By the time I'd talked to my bishop about it, I was completely confident and sure that this was the right choice. I returned to my natural, happy, confident self, and those feelings haven't left.

It has, however, provided some misgivings. The first question people ask is, "Wait, did you break up with Alex?" Is this the only reason why I'd serve a mission, i.e. because I have nothing to stay home for? No! In fact, quite the opposite! I have an excellent job (even if it is painfully easy and excessively boring). I'm dating the best man I've ever met in my entire life. I have more friends than I can count, people who I love and cherish. I play in a band with my best, best friends. The most excellent women I know, in large part, all served missions, and often at great sacrifice. There is nothing mediocre about serving a mission for sisters. Nothing easy because nothing is required. But this choice is something that will benefit me, my husband and my children for the rest of eternity. To reduce serving the Lord to something second-rate, to a last resort option, is to ignore the sacrifice, hardship and great faith required for such a decision. It ignores the need for missionaries, both sisters and elders, and the great benefit that comes from serving diligently. I will not accept this status quo mentality, that missions for sisters are last resort options. Likewise, missions are not for every sister. They simply are not in Heavenly Father's will for all of us, or in the sister's will for herself, and that is not a problem. But it is a problem when people belittle sisters for serving, whatever her motivation.

Anyway, my papers are almost in. I'm going home this weekend for my interviews, so my papers should be in sometime next week. I'll keep you all posted on my call.

In the meantime, please pray for me. I'm not going to back out, but let's just say it hasn't been easy, however correct it is.

Last night Alex and I watched "Jesus Camp." And people think Mormons are creepy! If you haven't seen it, you probably should.

Not last night but lastly, even though these bags may be a fashion statement,
you can make a bigger statement by being a personal spokesperson for the Earth! (bless her heart) by recycling all those plastic bags you get at the grocery store. Why should you? Because the 500 billion to 1 trillion plastic bags we use each year (380 billion of those courtesy of the U.S.) will otherwise sit for 1,000 years in a landfill (more facts here). While China has already banned the bag, New York and San Francisco have implemented city laws about recycling the menace. Now, I'm not advocating you make a statement with your handbags like the one above (because people will definitely think you're annoying if you do), but I am advocating reusing the little plastic pest. Even if you get them at the store and use them in your trashcan or bring them to the store the next time you go and put your groceries in them or bring your lunch to work in them or scoop your puppy's poop with them or give apples from your apple tree to your neighbor in one or find a recycling bin for them or whatever, just don't put them straight in your trash.

And that is my first and last soapbox for the day.