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.

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.

Bye bye, Love.

A lot has been going on, but official announcements would be premature. So--I'm leaving you in the dark!

On a darker note, I am not okay with this. Are you? Your thoughts, please.

It's time for...

You'd think that since I work at a TV station, there'd be a lot of cool stuff around. Actually, there's a bit more cool stuff than I'm letting on, but it's all obsolete. First, there's a bunch of old camera and tape reel equipment in the lobby. But all of this stuff looks fake, like replicas. These statues of the Animaniacs are probably my favorite.

I would really like to kill more time, since I'm at work for another hour and I have nothing to do for another 30 minutes, but I don't have anything else to write about.

Guess what? I hate sitting at a desk all day.

Love Lisa

Sick of it all.

Did anyone listen to the band whose name is also the title of this blog entry? Sick of It All. My favorite line from one of their songs is: "We're all black sheep and we know it." I specifically liked it my sophomore year of high school as I entered my "rebellious" stage.

Day 3 of work. It's not bad. Really, it's not the worst. It's easy as all get out, but I don't totally despise the work. The hours still suck--9:30 to 6:30. I prefer an even 8 to 5 or 9 to 5, a straight day with a working lunch. Work is something I have to do; my life outside of work is always and forever my priority.

CNN is covering Britney Spears' hospital stay. Ridiculous.

Branky and babe are moving to SoCal this week. It's pretty sad. I've been pampered here in Utah, spending a total of one year with no other immediate family in Utah. Katie will still be here, which is good, but now that BB&T are leaving, I feel a little marooned. This too shall pass.

I've said it before and I'll say it again: everyone's support means so much to me. I'm slowly climbing out of this numbing hole I found myself in, intently searching out options and prayerfully considering each one.

Elections 2008: I'm still not sure how I feel. There are a few candidates who would do the job well. Romney, Obama, Edwards. I saw Huckabee on Colbert a while back, talking about his new book. I immediately liked him. He seemed like a really nice guy with honorable intentions for the U.S. I've heard good things about him as governor, that he chose people he trusted and respected and unfailingly followed their recommendations. I like this. I like this because Bush didn't do this. Remember OSHA? Bush completely ignored that committee's recommendations for the state of Iraq, and look at the country now. I like Huckabee's seeming lack of ego and humility. I like his dedication to virtue. However, I read things like this and then I question him. (Granted, it happened a while ago, and if we're willing to forgive Romney's flip-flopping, I'm willing to forgive Huckabee's missteps as well).

So as of today, I am officially registered in California with no party affiliation. I feel good about this.

Also, I am joining the Peace Corps someday.

End of Day Three.

I got back from California Wednesday night. I'm not sure if I mentioned that Alex came with me. From the 26th to the 2nd. It was fun having him there. We did some stuff I normally do when I go home and some stuff I don't normally do. We went to the MOMA. That was probably my favorite because it was just my favorite.

I've successfully conquered days one and two of work. I wish I could tell you all about it, but I can't because this is the interweb, and chances are my boss has my blog bookmarked.

I look at other people, and it always seems like they have it so easy. I don't do this too often because it's unhealthy. But I've been thinking lately that other people don't have it so hard when they graduate. I'm not too emotionally unstable or anything (I'm a crier anyway, right?), but I feel confused about my job, about my current path. I'm thinking this means I missed a turn back there somewhere. I started down the wrong path in November. I'm trying to cut through the woods to the right path as we speak.

If you're reading this and you don't live in Utah but you went to college in Utah, I want you to tell me why you left Utah upon graduation. Conversely, if you went to college in Utah but stayed in Utah upon graduation, I want you to tell me why you stayed. Will you guys comment please? Because I'm really, sincerely curious.

I'm working on a script for a documentary. Only Alex knows what it is and he'd better not tell anyone because I don't want someone to steal it. But everyone should know that this idea is Copyright 2008 Lisa Ruefenacht, because it's going to be in Sundance in a year or two. This idea is too good for it not to be.

PS Thanks to my friends who read this blog. You are all a huge support to me, even if we don't speak that often. So thanks. If you're not my friend and you're reading this blog, thanks anyway, because it makes me happy when Google Analytics tells me I have blog readers.