A little off the top

My new love: shortbread cookies with a spot of jam. I grew up imagining they'd be disgusting, like Fig Newtons or those raisin bars that would induce irreversible car sickness on family road trips. Now I can't believe I've been missing out on those my entire life. Kind of like sweet potatoes and yams. I didn't try those until maybe three years ago. Who knew they tasted like candy, given enough butter and sugar. Well, anything does.

Friday marks a turning point for me: I am quitting two days of piano teaching per week and Friday is my last day. I am excited. I have been wanting this day to come for many weeks.

Jeff and I both have two weeks off for Christmas, so we will not be in Houston. Dallas, Austin, I wish New Orleans.

Houston is 76 degrees today.

Christmas is in ten days?! I am not done shopping.

Ten days 'til Christmas means 17 days 'til Paleo. January 1, 2011 Jeff and I will stop consuming certain foods, anything not included in this little ditty.

Meats and veggies,
Nuts and seeds,
Some fruit,
Little starch,
NO SUGAR!

It's part of our quest to attain the bodies and level of fitness we've always yearned for. Also an active fight against hyperinsulinism, and therefore obesity, cancer, diabetes, alzheimer's, and general sickness. We are excited and not-so-excited to give up chocolate milk, our Monday night IceDream cones at Chic Fil-A, bread, cheese, etc., but we will be glad we did once we conquer our addiction to sugar.

I love that man of mine.

It's true: wherever you find love, it feels like Christmas.

Well well, how have you been olde blog?

Mr. Ward and I have been having such a nice time lately. Vowing to take more photos of our newlywedded blissful selves, trying to develop good habits like reading important books and eating healthy food, and working really long hours. We leave at 7 am and we're back around 6 or 7 or 7:30 pm depending on the night. We watch Wheel of Fortune while I/he cook/s if we are lucky enough to be home, we surf the Internet, and we get ready for bed and talk for a long time across our pillows. That is my favorite time. I know when he says "Goodnight" he really means "I am going to sleep now," but I just can't help myself. I want to keep talking. He is so snuggly like a bear cub.

We went home to California for Thanksgiving. I wish I had taken pictures (hence the vow). I gave Kimba, my dad's beloved Australian cattle dog and my third sister, a hot dog costume I found on 90% off clearance at Target for $1.29. She looked so cute! No, she didn't like wearing it. Maybe it made her feel too much like my mom's mini dachshund.

Thanksgiving dinner was delicious. Jeff's friend Jordan and his wife Christina came over to my parents. Christina made a lovely chocolate cream pie that Kimba couldn't keep her tongue out of no matter where we put the pie. Mom's turkey came out moist and golden. My stuffing with mushrooms and chestnuts and fennel and La Brea foccacia bread and SAUSAGE and whatever else was excellent (Mom knows how to pick 'em recipes). Our dear friend Ernestine's sweet potato casserole was nothing short of divine, three cubes of butter later. After a summer in Cairo, my jet-setting brother Robert apparently now only drinks Perrier water, which he sipped languidly across the table from me all night, while I tried to keep from laughing. After we watched "The Muppet Christmas Carol" as we always used to do. My favorite Muppet movie, tied with "Muppet Treasure Island."

Yes, it was a delicious feast and I was thankful for it. And mostly thankful for my family who could be there.

As is Ruefenacht tradition, we spent our Friday at the International Auto Show, hosted annually by the Moscone Center smack in downtown San Francisco. The funnest part was the Range Rover 4-wheeling course, set up right within view of the MOMA and other essential SF landmarks. It was so neat! I rode while Katie drove. Mom and Dad were in the Rover in front of us; Jeff closed in the rear. We had a great time! If I hadn't watched all the other people driving on that course, I seriously would not have known how bumpy the course really was--Range Rovers are THAT amazing!

I had a stark realization while I was home--my birthplace--and I championed a yearlong lack of self-discovery. It started as I cleaned out my desk, looking for my expired passport as Jeff and I are going to Costa Rica in March and I need to renew it. My desk is a time capsule of my life. I sifted through old choir mementos, gifts from long gone friends, photos of past loves and friends, poems, unlabeled cassette tape mixes, thrift store finds, all sorts of objects and memories. I'll spare you the drama that happened next when my sister found me sorting through things she thought to be hers (they weren't), and conclude with the results of a psychologically telling conversation she and I had after she had calmed down. I have been home from St. Louis for a year. In that space I've felt disinterested with aspects of myself and my life from before I left. I didn't care as much about thrifting, vinyl, good literature, even music. I realized that I was somewhat depressed, or even repressed, by myself and what I thought I should be.

I'm so glad that surfaced. I feel passion again, for those things that really made me happy before.

I finally bought my dream vintage receiver last week, a Sansui 8080. Pictures and video/sound forthcoming, as soon as we get our new speakers (for Christmas I hope!)

Check out Jeff's blog for photos of where we honeymooned. Mar Vista Cottages--we hope to return to you soon.

I will leave you with Christmas pictures of the grandest "old money" neighborhood in Houston: River Oaks. (Thank you Hipstamatic).

What a nice life I have

I've been a wife for two months. Congrats to me! When I was younger I used to think being married would be so difficult. Being with someone all the time, the same person, seeing them every day, kissing them all the time...

I gotta tell ya, I WAS SO WRONG!

I mean LOOK AT THIS GUY!!!



Being married has been the best decision I ever made. Jeff is my best friend. We laugh so hard at the stupidest things, like this diabetes commercial we keep seeing on TV. Why is it so funny?! I really couldn't tell you why. We have the best time all the time.

Marriage has great mutual benefits, like the power of nagging. I don't mean bad nagging, I mean the nagging your spouse directs at those unsightly habits you have, things that didn't matter when you were single but they do now that you have to live with someone. Nothing gross though. For me, my unsightly habit was drinking too much Diet Coke. I mean probably three or four cans a day. Really, that is gross. It's how I was raised, but still no excuse. Jeff kept nagging me about it: It's bad for you, you need to stop, too much caffeine, blah blah blah. I didn't want to listen.

Long story short, his nagging paid off. In the past (I think) three weeks, I've had only one can of Diet Coke. I am so happy for myself! If you have spent any amount of time with me, you know that I used to have to drink Diet Coke every day, at least once, or I'd go bonkers. And even sometimes when I had one Coke, I'd be crazy until I had another. Jeff was right in saying I had a problem. I really did.

We have this mobile mechanic we use called Big John. He is pretty awesome, and he fixes up the Rat pretty well for a decent price. I was ripped off by a mechanic early on in Houston, so Big John is basically part of the family now. We almost had him over for dinner one night after he had finished installing a new starter on the Rat. Anyway Jeff has this thing he does where we'll be kissing in the kitchen as couples do right when they get home from work, and mid-kiss he'll look up and say, "Oh hey, Big John." It is the strangest thing. Now Big John is always around. One night Jeff was telling me some story, and I wasn't listening and he knew it. So he started rambling on and on and on about this that and the other, for probably three minutes, and the next thing I knew he was saying, "And that's how Big John ended up in our closet."

What?!

I about died laughing. I still am now.

I am having the time of my life.

Suddenly I'm acquiring a bunch of new hobbies, like reading Martha Stewart's magazines and picking out a bunch of crafty projects to try out when I finally wake up from my dream world in which I like crafts. Someday I will be a good housewife and homemaker.

My favorite thing lately is cooking. Dinner last night was an epic fail, but we've had some great successes too. The pot roast I made Sunday melted in our mouths; the ratatouille I made last week has left me wanting more every day since; I've made cookies and a cupcake cake and a chicken/spinach/pasta thingy and, well, that's about it. But I'm working on this whole wife thing.

We are going to Costa Rica in March! It will be my first time abroad since 1999 when I went to England and France.

I am singing more these days, since I'm teaching voice lessons, and I am finally realizing how much I miss singing regularly with a group or as a soloist. I need to get on that.

I also feel like I have nothing to write about. I mean read this post! It is full of junk. Sorry. The end.

Love is Our Answer

Church Responds to HRC Petition

[Insert generic motivational lingo here].

I apologize for my lack of posts. Marriage has made me very busy! But not as busy as work.

As you know I teach music lessons every weekday afternoon/evening. It is going well. I also work full time starting this past Monday at this place with this guy Monday to Friday. My days start very early and end very late and I'm ready to go to bed at a time most old people are eating dinner. Too bad I never get to because I'M STILL WORKING!

Last week my most adoringly lively piano student, who I call Chimmy because her name is long and African and flaunts combinations of consonants this Westerner has never seen, could not play this one dynamic marking. It was an arched line over a phrase of six notes, commonly referred to as a "slur." "What is this line called, Chimmy," I asked. "Do you remember from last week?" She thought, and thought, then she whipped her braids around and thought some more, and finally she said, "It's called a SLUT!!!"

Thank heaven the walls of the piano studio are PAPER THIN and I'm sure everyone else in that place heard her yell that word at the top of her lungs.

Children also notice the strangest things in people. Like Monday, my student said, "Mrs. Ward, your teeth...are...very...(I could tell she couldn't quite find the right words)...very...SHINY."

Wow. They have been called fangs before, but never has anyone commented on my pearlies' gleam. Thank you, young lady.

Also, today was my first day participating in Crossfit, a kick-yo-trash workout regime that has my legs feeling like they went through a meat grinder. BooBoo has been going for two months, and DAAAANG he's lookin' fiiiiine. As the most out-of-shape person there, I'd say I did all right. I just hope I can keep up next time if my shredded-beef legs are repaired.

You know, this is one of the many reasons I LOVE being married so much. For my whole life, I have struggled with overeating, being overweight, and poor body image. I've been surrounded by people with eating disorders and barraged (as we all are) with images of waifer-thin models and movie stars wearing clothes you can't wear if you're a 6.

But being married gives me new motivation. Jeff and I are doing this together, for each other. For good health. I want easy pregnancies and healthy babies. He wants to wear slim jeans and skinny ties (don't you Boo?). We don't want heart disease. We want to say, "Yes kids, let's play WiiTennis for Family Home Evening tonight" and not feel sore the next day. I want to beat my genetically predisposed thunder thighs into a pulp and tell those weird, misshapen body parts, "So long, farewell! See you NEVER!"

So let me hear three cheers to feeling fabulous and having no more muffin top!

It takes two to make a pair.

The big news is that:

JEFF AND I GOT MARRIED!~!~!~!~!~!

So far marriage is really great. Really fun. Really happy. Jeff makes me happy and better and peaceful.

Our apartment looks a lot like this right now,



so tonight for our Family Home Evening we are cleaning the house! Putting away the tons of cool stuff we got. Thank you everyone you are FABULOUS!! Yay Crate and Barrel! I love you. And you too Target!

I would like to praise Heavenly Father for a moment for creating a man like Jeff. He is so good to me and to everyone around him. He works hard and loves other people. He is a true man of God and I am so blessed to have him!

Here's to marriage!



Also, thanks to the incredible MegRuth Photography for all our awesome photos. We couldn't be happier and we've received so many compliments on your photos! Mwah to Megan!

All you single ladies!

This is what I feel like 99 percent of the time.



Yes, dangit! Like a sweaty vampire!

No really, it is so hot here. No deodorant works. Your best anti-perspirant is a/c, if it's working. I spend fifteen to twenty minutes blow-drying my hair into a beautiful, sleek, straight softness, free of frizz, my layers swinging bashfully as I shake my luscious mane...

...Then I step outside the door, walk thirty feet to my car, and by the time I'm there my hair is limp, it's frizzing worse than Miss Frizzle, funky curls I never knew I had have eaten my blow-dry skillz alive, my bangs look like they haven't been washed all summer, my cowlick is rejoicing in its similarity to a quail feather, and even though I've just showered I smell like I haven't.

Houston, WE HAVE A PROBLEM!!!!

And to think, I saw a magazine at Macy's the other day that quoted native Beyonce as loving Houston summers! HA!

Speaking of Beyonce, there is this little four-year-old whippersnapper I've taught piano to a few times. She started talking about boyfriends. I said I have a fiance. She said, "Oh I LOVE Beyonce. 'All you single ladies! All you single ladies!'" WHAT THE WHAT?! I can't wait until my kids are four. Then she got the wiggles really bad, so we danced to Jackson 5 for literally ten seconds so she could "get the wiggles out." Every time I've taught her since, she begs me to let her "get the wiggles out." Geez louise, it's like training a puppy.

Before everything goes right it goes really really wrong.

Yes, it's been almost three weeks since I wrote anything, and yes, I know my wedding is 2.42 weeks away. Phew it's a lot to take in! Lemme tell you why.

I found out last week that my beautiful ivory taffeta wedding gown with a ruffled Queen Anne collar, which was supposed to be here July 31st, is apparently being made in China (who knew we outsourced wedding dresses?) and it won't be shipped until August 20!! To make matters worse, the employees at the shop I bought it from have seemingly absolved themselves and the shop from any responsibility for its lateness. Granted, they can't make those dexterous Chinese hands sew any faster, but I'm pretty sure I bought my dress from them, not Pei Li in Shanghai. I'm just praying my cold black heart out that it will actually get here before the wedding.

Sunday night I was crawling into bed when I get an urgent message from my friend Kristen saying that the girl I was subletting from neglected to inform ANYONE other than herself that she was arriving in Houston that night and "sure hoped I was out of her apartment." Which led to Kristen arriving at said apartment at 11 pm, helping me scoop all my junk into my suitcases, which I still haven't sorted through, and getting me out in time for the most irresponsible and inconsiderate 25-year-old in the world to arrive home for her beauty sleep. I promise I'm not as bitter as I sound.

Today Jeff and I got the set of Wusthof knives we were pining for off our Crate and Barrel registry. Mmmm. Thank you thank you thank you present senders We LoVe YoU aNd So WiLl OuR StOmAcHs WhEn We StArT cOoKiN!!!!

I have been temping at an oil and gas consulting firm. It is pretty sweet. The office manager is way rad; we are basically the same person born seven years apart but I am Mormon and she is not so there are some obvious differences right there but we work it out somehow. RUN ONS!!! "The firm" takes us out to lunch every once in awhile at this great sandwich shop. My favorite is the "Green Gobbler," which consists of a seeded wheat bread, provolone cheese, turkey, apple butter, sprouts, and apple slices. MMM MMM GOOD!!! It is so delicious.

Lately I have had lots of stomachaches. Every day it seems I feel a grumbly down in the tumbly and it just won't quit. It is not nerves. No, I am sure it's not. I just cannot put my finger on why this is. Except that I am on a strict plant-based diet these days, and there's even less tolerance than normal for anything like dairy or grains but ESPECIALLY NO JUNK FOOD!!! Drives me nuts. Anyone have a good natural remedy for an upset stomach?

Even though lots has been going on, and going wrong if you want to look at it that way, I am still very excited to marry my sweet Boo Boo Jeff Ward. That is what I care about most, fancy dress or not.

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

34 days is not a long time to wait

I am still so unhappy with this layout but I don't have time to fix it tonight. I'm going to bed.

We got back from Dallas this morning. I am happy to report my father-in-law would have me on his handcart team if we were ever pioneers. Not that we will be, but I think that's a flattering thing.

Texas is still very hot.

I begin temping at some oil and gas company tomorrow. Office work. Nothing major. But I'm grateful for the extra bucks.

Wedding invites came and they look amazing. As does our picture.



I realize it's not for everyone, this style, but I have always loved shooting into the sun and the consequential dreamy effect.

Howdy doody

I just messed around with the layout and I don't like it at all. I will fix it soon, I promise.

Jeffy Boo and I just returned from a great trip to Austin! We checked out UT, where Jeff is considering applying to for grad school. They have a great Masters of Education program. Here's rooting for Jeff!

We went to the State Capitol, drove around a bunch, ate some great food, and overall loved it. I especially loved the ribs at The Salt Lick, apparently, as this photo was one of only two I took the entire trip.



I also took this picture of Jeff as we scaled the rotunda of the State Capitol.



Today we left Austin early and went to Schlitterbahn, the LARGEST WATERPARK IN THE WORLD!!!! We were having a good time until someone stole our sunscreen, and we had to wait in line for two hours for a broken ride that lasted only 45 seconds. Theme parks were not made for adults. What sane person would pay $45 to stand in line over and over again only for a 60-second-or-less thrill? It's worse than the DMV!! Well, this sane person did today, but I doubt I will again anytime soon.

Jeff and I have been all over Texas lately. Tomorrow we're driving up to Dallas for his friend's wedding. As we traverse this great state's terrain, my appreciation and understanding deepens as to why Texans are so notoriously devoted to their state. It is beautiful. Definitively humid, but beautiful. Come down for a visit anytime y'all.

A day of mourning

RIP Little Boy Bowl

45 days

We drove from Texas to Utah. The Suburban had some complications. We put a new battery in it and it was fine. We love Colorado Springs. (I have never fallen in love with a place at the sight. New York took two weeks. Utah took four years. St. Louis my love was for people. Colorado Springs instantly felt like home).

Everything is the same in Utah. It was comforting, but it wasn't home.

We returned to Houston last night. Bittersweet. In Utah you're thirsty all the time because it's so dry. In Houston you're thirsty all the time because you sweat so much. Takes 20 minutes and a thousand stoplights to drive the 5.8 miles to Jeff's. This city is the anomaly of Texas. The rest of this state is pretty great, from what I've seen. But this city is draining. There is no respite from the heat, not outdoors anyway. Not even in the late hours of the night when most places have cooled to a reasonable temperature. The a/c never gets a break.

Weddings cost too much money. Or should I say, classy weddings cost too much money.

Please, if I have not yet asked for your address, e-mail it to me.

Hopes and dreams

Sometimes I think Heavenly Father must really love me for one reason:

When I move to a notoriously, sweltering hot place, He makes it less hot.

My two summers in St. Louis were some of the coolest on record. No major heat waves. Less humidity. I found them overall mild, aside from a few nasty days.

Houston started out so hot I thought I was going to die. Jeff was on the verge of sending me back to Utah, I was such a pain. But the past week has been rainy and cooler. Today it is 75 degrees and raining. It's my favorite weather. I think I would do okay in Seattle or Portland.

Houston has been a blast so far. Tomorrow marks three weeks and I can't believe it. I am teaching piano lessons (subbing and picking up my own schedule at the end of the month). I am looking for jobs, though not as hard as I should. I would really like to start my own business, but I haven't gotten too far. I am planning the wedding and almost done finally.

Jeff is studying for the GRE. I think I would really like a day job, but being able to watch The Price is Right if I want to is very nice. Even though I rarely watch it.

Jeff and I watch Wheel of Fortune, or just "Wheel" as we call it, as often as we remember. We are getting really good. I would like to go on that show and win a trip to Peru for Jeff and also $35,000 cash. It really is anyone's game. I am learning to be a smart letter guesser. When I do go on Wheel I "whanna wheen," as Nacho says.

It rains a lot here. And it floods a lot too. It rains so hard you can't see when you're driving. My wipers don't wipe fast enough.

A bright golden haze on the meadow.

I keep telling myself to go to bed, but I won't.

I haven't even washed my face yet.

It is a very great feeling when the person you are marrying makes you better than you are. The tag-team is a nice asset. Suddenly we are funnier, friendlier, happier, more fun to be with, cuter, smilier, and more contagiously irresistible. Maybe just to each other, but that's good enough for me.

Houston is a nice city. There are lots of neat shops and antique shops, though I haven't been to any yet. I live right down the street from Rushmore Academy, AKA St. John's School. I have a 52" TV which has been great for watching HD "Frasier" re-runs. Wedding plans are coming along nicely.

Also, Jeff and I will be in Utah in mid-July, and because I didn't see you (Ashley, Regan, Carl, etc.) right before I left, I insist we rendezvous.

I was informed a few days ago that a man I taught in Waterloo Branch was baptized today. This is a very blessed thing because his wife and family wanted him baptized very badly. I am so very happy for them. He and his wife have the greatest kids in the whole world!!

Michael goes to the MTC on Wednesday. This is a joyous thing for me. I was somewhere the other day, actually I think I was just sitting by the pool, and the thought of Michael wearing his glasses and his slim fit white shirts and his double-vented suits all around rural Japan hit me like a vision of the Tree of Life. And I saw his big, glowing, sincere smile and I felt the love those sweet Japanese brothers and sisters will feel emanating from him. They will love him so much for being the nicest, most polite and considerate American boy they have ever met. They will love him because he carries the Spirit of God with him. They will know he is so very special.

Anyway, I think I'm ready for bed now.

Everyday I waited for you.

These guys won't win any prizes for originality, but I sure like this song.



I am tired of updating resumes and things. I feel like I just did this yesterday. Oh wait I did. I mean, I feel like I've been doing this for awhile now. Probably because I did it a few months ago only to be hired at Wells Fargo, and now I am doing it again. Oh well.

I really like cooking dinner for Jeff. I only did it last night for the first time, and even then he did half (or did his Fasta Pasta?), but I like cooking for him nonetheless.

Also, Chick Fil-A has really amazing soft serve. Yum-may.

This is it!

As of Friday, June 18, about 9 pm, I officially started living in Houston.

Thursday morning I woke up ready to rumble, only to have a dead battery in the Rat. Panicked that my ten-year-old was going to throw a tantrum that day, I took him to the shop to have him looked over. Blessedly, the shop I go to is just a few blocks from Kneaders, so I enjoyed me a plate of french toast before heading back. Nothing was wrong with the Rat (of course) so I took off about 11 am. GOODBYE PROVO!!!!!, I yelled somewhat maniacally at the top of my lungs until the Y was no longer visible.

Utah is a beautiful state. All the way to Moab, to Monticello, I regretted not having spent more Saturdays traveling to all the amazing natural wonders and historical sites in Utah. It is a great place.

I drove and drove all day, lamenting the safety corridor in Farmington and hitting Albuquerque about 8 and getting to my over night destination of Tucumcari about 9:45. This sleepy little town boasts one element of notoriety--it's perched on Historic Route 66--so it features lots of kitschy motels and diners. I LOVED it. Perfect for a one-night stop. I stayed at the Motel Safari. Cheap, clean, extremely comfortable.

Friday I drove and drove through Texas. All day it was Texas. I'll spare you details, as the only one I care about was reaching Houston. We ate Chinese takeout and celebrated that "Whoa, we actually did it!" and then realized what "Whoa. We actually did it" means. So far it has meant lots of laughing, permanent smiles, sweet hugs and soft kisses, and joy. Always joy.

So anyway, I live in Houston now. I don't have a job. It's really hot. But all I really need is that man of mine, so I couldn't be happier.

John's window while you work

I am a useless packer. One of those types that can't/won't pack unless someone else is there. I just find too many distractions. Like the nice weather outside. Like the chickens my landlords have. Like blogging and the Internet. Maybe that's why the dwarfs whistled while they worked. Maybe it helped them maintain focus. When I was little I thought they sang: "John's window while you work...oowee oo oo oo oo ooooooo." I was wrong.

Anyway, Mo came down this weekend to help me with my yard sale and pack up my stuff. We almost finished everything! Now I just have what's left in my room, which by comparison, isn't much. The yard sale was a nominal success. I fell short of my sales goal by $85; my big things like my bed, TV and kitchen table set just wouldn't go. Prices are negotiable!

Thursday is my last day of work. I can't wait. I can't wait to be with Jeff.

I guess I should go pack now.

NO TURNING BACK

Official announcement! Two weeks until Houston! I'm leaving Utah June 17 and driving like a madwoman to reach the man I love by the night of the 18th. Then, FLOAT TRIP ON THE 19TH!!!!

YYYYYEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I will miss Utah. I will miss many things. Unfortunately many of these things center around food, which means I am going to be doing lots of eating in the next two weeks.
I will miss:
JCW
Cafe Rio (pork tostada)
Stan's (grilled cheese and fries)
El Mexiquense (tacos al pastor--thanks Tim, for telling me about the BEST TACO EVER!)
Grandma Sycamore's white bread
WinCo
Jack Sprat sprouted wheat bread
Blue Bunny
Taylor Maid Beauty Supply
Hobble Creek Canyon
The Mountains
everyone I love
The Olsons
Trevor
temples everywhere
Hires Big H
The Pie (especially the cheese pull-a-part)

I gave notice to WF today.
I am packing up my vinyl after I pen this and shipping it off tomorrow.

If you're in Utah, I would probably really like to see you before I move. Please call me if you'd like to see me too. Keep in mind that I'll be in California from the 11th to the 16th, so let's try to see each other before then. If not, we'll still be friends.

Also, my crazy pregnant roommate cooked pig's feet tonight and she kept offering me some. It smelled so disgusting and it looked even worse. Pigs feet with hominy and beans. Some things just weren't meant to be consumed.

Hungry likes the wolves

It's a full moon tonight. Normally on a night like tonight, I'd be worried about wolves. Werewolves! I've been thinking about wolves a lot lately because of an article I read in National Geographic a few days ago.

Perhaps minutely worse than being surrounded by a pack of werewolves is being surrounded by THREE PREGNANT WOMEN!! Yes, I am surrounded.

My sister announced yesterday she is pregnant! Just shy of three months. Mr. TrevTrev will have a playmate (hopefully female) come Christmas 2010. Becky carries her babies high in her belly, which means her pregnant body's shape resembles a fat little kid. Think Chancho in Nacho Libro.



My landlord/friend Alison is upstairs, and pregnant. I sometimes wake up to her pregnant lady yoga DVD. Other than that and hearing her talk about how fat she is (lie), she's a pretty average pregnant gal.

My crazy circumstantial roommate is eight months pregnant, and easily is going through the weirdest pregnancy I've ever been exposed to. Sometime, when I'm more removed and not wounded by it, I will tell you all about it. Poor little soul.

I'm going to Houston tomorrow to see my Jeffy!

The woes of online life

I have what some may feel is an archaic sense of custom and etiquette with certain things. Prominent in my mind lately is the looming task of collecting invitees and addresses for the wedding.

The modern protocol for young 20-somethings undergoing this process is to send out a Facebook group invite, where you post your address on the group wall and you'd darn well better if you want an invitation because that's the only way you're going to be contacted about it. No personal telephone call, no e-mail, no text, no personal message. Probably because the extent of your contact has been on Facebook (which to me means we're not really good friends anyway, unless you live in a foreign state or country).

Tell me if you think I'm being a drudge, but I just can't get on board with this. I've denied myself six wedding invites in the past three months simply because I refuse to add my name to a generic list. I feel like my present is being invited more than I am. One time I received a group invite to the wedding of a girl I'd only interviewed for the Daily Universe. Granted she and I were in the same social circle, but I doubt she knows who I am anymore. I was stunned to get that group invite, which is probably the instance that turned me off to the whole group thing in the first place. I think that's really the kicker, is that often these group invites come from people I'm not close to, and in reality, I wouldn't invite them to my wedding, so why are they inviting me?

On Thursday I lazed around fighting a 102 degree fever all day. Now I feel almost completely better! Thank you Regan for tending to the sick and needy, and thank you Amoxicillin! You are a miracle worker, even if you taste disgusting.

I am excited to marry my Jeffy :) This time next week I'll be visiting Jeff in Texas!

Why does Monday always come back so fast?

I wonder why we as humans are so fascinated by how other humans live their lives. Why do we post intricacies of our lives on the internet for all to see? (Why do I write this blog?) Why do kids from my high school, whom I was never really friends with, add me as a friend on Facebook? Why, in my ward's Relief Society, do we have a "Good News Minute"? Why do you read my blog (if you don't know me personally)? If you haven't made an effort to talk to me in six months or more, and we have no potential need to stay in touch career/networking-wise, why should I keep your phone number? Your friendship on Facebook?

As previously mentioned, I'm currently purging from my life many of my earthly possessions in preparation for My Big Move to be with my One True Love, my Jeffy. My measurement of an item's worth is this: Have I used or worn this item since I've been home from my mission? If yes, I keep it. If no, I will attempt to sell or donate it. It is working well so far. And I guess what I'm wondering is if I can use the same philosophy with my many Facebook "friends." Or my profile in general. I haven't used my Myspace profile since I've been back. I didn't use my Facebook for 18 months. Obviously I don't need it.

I saw "Babies" yesterday. It is not for the faint of heart. Mainly because the film exhibits breasts in their primary function so graphically I'm rethinking my desire to bear children. Though PG, there is A LOT of nudity. It's in context, but altogether it's excessive. (Or perhaps I'm just a prude). The film follows four babies in various parts of the world. You will see all but one mother in the nude. Of course you will see every child in the nude, and you will see one child discover his nether regions. The little Mongolian baby boy won my heart the most.

I should have retired to bed 47 minutes ago.

Friday, I'm in love

I have no shame. I go to movies by myself on Friday nights and I don't feel bad about it. I saw Robin Hood tonight and I liked it. I have always been a sucker for knights in shining armor though. And Russell Crowe.

I try not to feel sorry for myself, but I'll be honest that tonight I do, pathetically enough. Just a little bit. Because the movie got out 45 minutes ago and I've come home, eaten a PB&J and I'm debating between watching a movie here at home, going to get birthday cake ice cream, or going to the gym. Really I mean and/or because by 11 pm tonight I will probably have accomplished all three in random order. But if I go to the gym it means I'll see my hairstylist who always wonders why he sees a girl like me at the gym Friday nights (as if he's the only person with no friends, or few). And if I get ice cream first then I'll have to bring it home before I go to the gym. But if I go to the gym, then to get ice cream, I'll have to go to Smith's in my workout clothes, and that is just too much for me.

But I have no shame :)

Texas, oh Texas. Wherefore art thou Texas?

What is it about a full time job that makes my brain too numb to do anything articulate? Until 11 pm, apparently, when I've recovered.

Many changes are afoot. Yes, I'm talking about getting married to my beloved Jeffypoo. There are many, many things that must happen between now and then. Like moving to Houston, which is going to be much sooner than we'd originally anticipated. One would think that I, after having been so transient the past six years of my collegiate life, would feel nothing but confidence in moving to Houston.

I am happy, scared, overjoyed, sad, excited, insane all at one time. I am currently ridding myself of many material things, ranging from clothes to bicycles, an antique steamer trunk to a very comfortable bed. If I possess something you would like, please consult me and I may give it to you. No you may not have my ceramic bald-eagle-in-mid-flight statue.

I have always been able to sing songs about going home to California. Joni Mitchell's ode to my great state hits a chord. Phantom Planet's is cliche, but it'll do. Tony Bennett croons my lost heart's anthem. What ballads are there about fair Texas?

Des Moines. What's Des Moines?

I would first like to say that being engaged, even long distance, is really great and I highly recommend it when you get the chance.

I am on day three of my Wells Fargo-funded training trip to Des Moines, Iowa. I have the difficult choice tonight of either accompanying the more raucous of the group to see one of our classmates fight in a scheduled bar fight (think Robert Downey, Jr. style in Sherlock Holmes but with girls in bikinis nearby), or to accompany the conservative girls (another Mormon, a Muslim and a recent divorcee) and the one femme male to the mall. Hmmm. Tough choice but I think I know what I should do.

Aside from all the enlightening sales skills I'm being indoctrinated with, I'm experiencing a bit of culture shock. Not for the area itself but for the popular pastimes among my WFF peers. Like drinking. Swearing every other word. Gossiping. Talking trash about other people, particularly one of our more loud-mouthed classmates. And this is all normal outside of Utah. Is it? Or are these people excited to be away from home and still in the "Don't tell mom" phase? I, at an old 24, am particularly glad my perpetual adolescence ended long ago, or really never began.

The word is out around here that my coworker and I are Mormon. We've had many questions, mainly about the Word of Wisdom. Answering inquiries on alcohol and tea is easy. But really now, what do you tell people when they ask why we don't drink coffee? With people on my mission, "Because the Lord said so, seek your own answer," was often good enough for coffee and tea. It doesn't work when you're talking to coffee-guzzling twenty-somethings who want concrete facts. I need to figure this out. Today my new Philadelphian friend Bobby asked me, "So since you're Mormon, you don't use machines, right?" Our table of six had a great laugh about that. How frequently we are still confused with our Amish brethren. And Mennonites. But we are among good company in that regard.

I miss the mountains.

Just thought you should know...

Jeff and I got engaged yesterday at my most favorite place in San Francisco, the Sutro Bath ruins. It was a gorgeously windy day. No fog. Just sun and lots and lots of wind.



We don't know much about marriage, but we're excited to find out. Our date is set for September 4 at the LDS Oakland Temple. We will be married not just for time, until we die, but for all eternity. If you are not familiar with LDS temples and the concept of eternal families, please watch this short video.



I would like to write a short ode to my Jeffy, who went so far as to have a friend of his in SF leave cheesecake and blankets on a rock down on Ocean Beach, below the Sutro Bath ruins, for us to enjoy immediately post-engagement. It was so sweet and unexpected. Sorry ladies that this tender, sensitive, selfless manly man is off the market!

History: We've shared a unique and loving friendship over the 6.5 years we've been friends. Jeff and I met freshman year in our freshman ward. We were in the same FHE group. We immediately became close friends. Our friendship continued to deepen as he served as a missionary for the LDS church in Uruguay. He later commented that I wrote him more than anyone outside his family. Of course, we had no romantic inclinations toward each other at this point. When he returned we continued our friendship. I don't remember at which point we decided this, but we made a pact long ago that if we weren't married by the time we were 30, we'd marry one another. Then I went on a mission and he wrote me, again with no intentions of romance ever. When I returned in November, we began talking again. He invited me to visit him in Houston. I did. And that's all she wrote.

:) :( :-/

I just wanted to confess that I didn't go to the gym today :(

Because I failed to get out of bed when my alarm went off at 6 am to propel me to the gym :(

Because tonight I saw Megan and then other Megan who I haven't seen in three years :)

Second Megan and I ate Five Guys and it was cold :(

Then I came home and I was sad because Jeff went to bed and I didn't get to talk to him :(

And I decided I didn't want to go to the gym after all. But I feel really guilty and now that it's almost 10:30 pm I wish I had gone I should have gone :(

My allergies are really bad and I have a killer sore throat and I am achy all over :(

I know it's allergies and not the flu :)

I am going to go to bed now :)

We're on a road to nowhere

I'm still wondering why not more people were at the Retribution Gospel Choir show at Kilby Court last night. Maybe Low isn't a cool band among the newest hipsters, so they didn't know that one of indies most influential musicians was in town. Maybe Subpop isn't deemed "with it" in 2010. I hope it was just finals.

It was an odd crowd. A few neo-hippies/hipsters. The avid, activist SLC cyclists. The girl who looked like she just stepped out of Forks, Washington (or wished she had). The too-eager couple, whose male counterpart met band leader Alan Sparhawk while serving his mission in Duluth and hadn't heard of Low until then and has overbearingly idolized Sparhawk and family since then. There was the other boy there who was alone, also wearing a chambray shirt, cuffed dark denim jeans. Basically he was wearing what I was wearing, only definitively masculine. And of course the older couple, the wife who didn't look like she'd been out of the house recently enough to realize that wearing cropped cargo pants with heels just isn't done anymore. But you know, she rocked the mom look nonetheless.

And as I sat alone on my red-bench-for-one, I thought, "What are these people thinking about me based on how I'm dressed? On how I'm sitting? On the fact I came alone?"

I cleaned my whole house today, territories I use at least, and I'm loving it. After about week three of living here, I realized (and Jeff help me realize) that my efforts in cleaning were unappreciated and abused. So I stopped. I've been wearing slippers around my house and setting NOTHING on any countertop since. But now everything is disinfected and glistening.

I started washing my face with olive oil last night. Extra virgin. Ladies and gentlemen, you must try it! My skin feels so supple, my skin tone more even, redness diminished. Oh, the wonders of nature!

I am making a goal this very beautiful spring moment to blog more and also spruce up my blog! I used to write a lot about interesting things and now I'm so boring. The lending industry has made me boring.

I got to watch Trevor for a few hours today. We had the best time! We bought "Where the Wild Things Are," and he's understandably obsessed with it. We ate lunch at the Cougareat. As we walked out, Trevor stomped and waddled and hollered: "I'M A ROBOT I'M A ROBOT!!!" at the top of his lungs until we were out of earshot of anyone else and he'd had his fill of being cute. Of course everyone who saw him was cracking up. He looked so cute today, dressed in a kelly green polo, plaid shorts and orange crocs. The kid is a dream. As we crossed the street outside the Wilk, a lady actually yelled from her car window as she passed: "He is SOOOO cute!!" Boy, he just soaked it up all day, until the cashier at the BYU Bookstore scared him so badly with her oo's and ah's that Trevor made me carry him for ten minutes until he wasn't scared anymore.

I want a baby. Someday.

Lastly, my current favorite song is "Road to Nowhere" by the Talking Heads. 1. Because it's a good summer song. 2. Because I feel like I'm on the beach with Fred and Ben Savage, having just climbed out from under a bum's lawnchair, i.e. portal to the monster underworld.

Betterment

I've been taking great strides to better my health and my life lately. For example, I acquired a membership to a local gym. I've cut most fats out of my diet. I'm down to 1-2 cans of Diet Coke per day, and I juxtapose that with 3-4 L of water.

My current dilemma comes from the idea of a colon cleanse. I've had friends do various high-fiber cleanses over the years, and they swear by them. With almost too-good-to-be-true results, and a $100+ price tag, I think anyone would be skeptical of such miraculous results. Do I try said cleanse? Are colon cleanses needed anyway? Surely Heavenly Father designed our bodies so immaculately that they'd cleanse themselves.

Guess I won't know 'til I try it.

I went to Dallas last weekend. It was really nice. I met Jeff's family. They are really nice.

Life is nice.

It's not the most politically correct, but...

It's when I hear songs like this that I lust after being born 80 years ago.

Daniel Day Lewis and the Thieves

I had three different dreams last night. One involved me and Daniel Day Lewis hanging out and eating British food: fish and chips, shepherd's pie, lots of other meats and sausages and artery-clogging eats. The next involved me and Daniel Day Lewis going to Chuck A Rama (I must have been really hungry when I went to bed), where we kept eating and eating and eating. And close to this one buffet bar sat a table of jocks, who guffawed at this oddly dressed slightly older man and his radiant companion. Then at one point, I couldn't find Daniel anywhere. I searched the entire restaurant and finally found him sitting with a table of 19-year-old, Zoobie-ish girls. They were having a great time and I felt left out. The third consisted of an impeccably dressed Daniel Day Lewis and this other man who I can mostly readily compare to a quiet version of "Booger" from "Better Off Dead", giving a washboard and saxophone concert. Daniel Day Lewis sang some songs. It was an amazing show from what I remember. Maybe he should take to the life of a troubadour. I will go with him.

Bagging of the bird

I just wanna say thanks from the bottom of my heart to Tess and Adam, for finding this gem of a song. Find the "Bird Dogs Forever" theme song at the bottom of the screen.

My sister and I went to the DanceSport championships tonight. I haven't much to say other than I definitely know what I DON'T want my wedding dress to look like. Or any dress I ever wear, for that matter. What? Beadazzle my entire wardrobe? No, no, thank you. I'll pass.

I like wearing dresses.

Do you ever have those weeks when it's just better for you to not see anyone and stay inside or be alone? I am trying my hardest to stop this week that I speak of at tonight so I can continue my life the way I prefer it. Happy. Patient. Giving. Loving toward others. But you know I guess I can't be that way all the time.

I heard back from Teach For America. I am waitlisted, and I won't hear any further until April 19. The lengthy e-mail basically said, "We had a lot of applicants. We really like you. There aren't as many spots to fill this year. Just hang on because we're finding you a spot. We just don't have one for you...yet." Of course, Jeff is extremely optimistic as to what this means, and he would know because he's in TFA, and he said all the waitlisted kids got in last year. How dearly I appreciate him for this perspective. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't battling a smidge of hopelessness right now. (How pathetic. I really am anything but).

The ambiguity of the future that I've felt since I've been home has been alleviated significantly by starting a job. By applying for opportunities like TFA. By dating Jeff. By playing in a semi-defunct band with my best friends. By attending the temple weekly. I find that many things, no matter how important or insignificant, give me little reasons to be. Or not to be. That isn't my question.

Maybe I am just emotional because I'm tired and probably PMSing and that's the only reason why I'm feeling this way, because basically I have a major identity crisis once a month around this time. Ugh.

Yeah really, I just read over this blog post, and it's completely ridiculous. I can't believe I wrote it. It's all a lie except the part about PMSing. What is it about hormones that distorts reality so much?

I have an incredible life. I live in a great place, with a good job. I'm blessed in myriad ways.

Paul said it best: "We are troubled on every side, yet not distressed; we are perplexed, but not in despair. Persecuted, but not forsaken; cast down, but not destroyed." I especially love these verses up until despair. I think that describes each day of mortality, as long as we love one another and do all that good stuff we know is right. There will be much uncertainty and much exploration, but we can be guided in what we do. Just keep going and everything falls in its place. Everything has its place and everything in its place, as Brother Wonka used to say.

I'm going to bed. Goodnight, Sweetheart.

P.S. Megan Stay, I've been thinking lately that I miss you a lot and I am going to come to Las Vegas to see you real soon.

Takes me back back.

My homegirls from Waterloo Branch made up their own version to Tik Tok. I love it! I love them!

wake up in the morning feeling like p diddy.
grab my scriptures im out the door im gonna hit seminary.
before i leave, brush my teeth with a bottle of crest.
cause when i leave for the day i aint comin back.

scripture mastery on our mind, mind.
movies all the time, time.
no texting on our phones, phones.
im talking lessons at the dossetts.
pullin in the driveway.
were not gonna be late today.

CHORUS:
dont stop make it last.
seminarys such a blast.
tonight hit the hay.
no more stayin up late.
tick tock 6 o'clock.
but the party dont stop, no.
WO WO WAH OWHH. WO WO WAH OWHH.
(repeat)


those who are lazy they get no biscuit n' gravy.
but if we get there on time, we would be totally fine.
&& now alarms are goin off at nearly 4 in the morning.
our friends think were crazy, but their life is just boring.

im talkin bagels on friday- day.
p diddy dont get paid paid.
it's okay cause he like it that way, way.

now now we goin until six thirty.
or maybe we be late, late.
cause school starts at eight, eight.
school it starts at eight.

CHORUS.

spirit, you build me up.
dont break me down.
my heart it pounds.
yeah, you help me.

im on my knees.
you got me now.
i got that feel.
yeah you got me.

spirit you build me up.
dont break me down.
my heart it pounds.
yeah you help me.

im kneelin down.
put your head down.
put your head down.

now the party dont start til the mormons walk in.

CHORUS.

Today I find out about TFA!! Today I will listen to "Today" by the Smashing Pumpkins on repeat! Today is going to be a good day.

Well, today meaning tomorrow. Because it's still Sunday for 20 more minutes.

Song of the night

And I love her so
I wouldn't trade her for gold
Walking on moonbeams
I was born with a silver spoon

Hell I'm gonna be me
Gonna be free
Walking on moonbeams
And staring out to sea

And if a door be closed
Then a row of homes start building
And tear your curtains down
For sunlight is like gold

Hell you better be you
Do what you can do
Walking on moonbeams
And staring out to sea

'Cause if your skin was soil
How long do you think before they'd start digging
And if your life was gold
How long do you think you'd stay living

And I love her so
I wouldn't trade her for gold

-- from the movie "Once"




I started at Wells Fargo Friday. It's going well. Nice people. Okay computer. OK Computer. It's a job, and I'm grateful for it. I miss being with kids already.

Life is good. Way good.

The best thing about being a woman.

I can't get her out of my head!!!!

SHANIA!!!!

SHE WON'T LEAVE!!!!

(Update: The beautiful Megan and I just spent six hours deep cleaning my house. Now it smells of ammonia, only I can't smell anymore because of the ammonia. But I'm told it smells clean in here, and that's what I wanted).

I find out about Teach For America soon. I want to hear tomorrow. Or I don't want to hear at all. Real life. Why does life keep moving? Maybe I don't want it to. Really I do.

First I need to get Shania out of my head...

This summer I might have drowned.

Well, here I am, penning my first blog entry since moving into Alison (formerly) Faulkner's basement. In Provo. Where I didn't want to be. But you know what? It's going to be all right.

Already I've been issued a calling by my bishop. I've been reacquainted with many kindreds and friends. I've found lots of old letters written to me long ago (a few from Grandma Betty, who I miss more fondly after re-reading her notes). I am giving away some movies, like "Volver," "American Beauty," "The Squid and the Whale," and a few others. Well, what do you think? I don't want them anymore because for me they aren't conducive to my spirituality. So, should I impose that on other people or just throw them away?

The past few days have been relatively difficult. I don't know why. But I appreciate the reality check. The sweetness of life is so much more sweet when the taste of a dismal, dreary day is fresh upon my tongue.

Unfortunately, upon my inspection earlier today, I've found this basement apartments' common areas to be much too dirty for my preferences. Horror stories already. I remember vividly why I wanted to live alone. I have my work cut out for me.

Ode to L'Ete: 1

Have I really not posted anything since February 9?

Is my mind so empty that I had nothing better to post on February 9 than that video?

These past few weeks have been amazingly insane. I start my job on Friday, finally, which means I'm moving back to Provo, like, in eight hours. Yay.

My parents came to visit last weekend. So did Jeff. I miss one quite a bit more than the others. Someday I will write all about it. It being a non-gender specific reference to him. I quite like him. I think I'm allowed to say that.

My current Internet browsing obsession is finding me a swimsuit. I really want a new swimsuit because I plan on doing a lot of swimming this summer. Me and Loudon Wainwright.



Now, I must say that I cannot wait for summer. Do you remember several posts ago, my photos I posted and I wanted you to guess the common element? None of you guessed it because if you had guessed it right you would have said summer.

I LOVE SUMMER. I was born in summer. I've always wanted to be married in summer. It is by far my most favorite season, and every pivotal event in my life should happen in the summer--birth, marriage, death. It is the most magical of the seasons. I am a child of the summer. All of my childhood memories occurred in the summer. Or maybe they didn't, but for some reason the setting is summer. Christmas in summer. Thanksgiving in summer. Sword Lake in summer. Salmon fishing in summer. As soon as I finish moving, or maybe tomorrow, I'm going to make my summer mix CD and I will post the track listing on here when it's completed. I was so worried and sad to give up two whole summers as a missionary. No swimming, no picnics, few barbeques and cook-outs. No chili cook-offs. No camping. No moonlit walks, stargazing sessions. No river floating. No sitting outside on the stoop. No "Late in the Evening" by Paul Simon. No New York. In retrospect I really didn't miss those aspects of summer very much because I knew I'd get them back. I almost have them back. Four more months and I have them back. Utah summers are so very magical. I don't want to be in Utah this summer. I want to be running around on the water wall.

Is he saying 'burrito'?

Another 45 years of life.

"It isn't as bad as you sometimes think it is. It all works out. Don't worry. I say that to myself every morning. It will all work out. Put your trust in God, and move forward with faith and confidence in the future. The Lord will not forsake us. He will not forsake us. If we will put our trust in Him, if we will pray to Him, if we will live worthy of His blessings, He will hear our prayers."

President Gordon B. Hinckley, from the funeral program of his wife, the late Marjorie Pay Hinckley

Do parents ever stop trying to control their children's lives? They do actually want what's best for us, right? Like what will make us most happy? Maybe they just look at situations with the hindsight and regret of middle/old age. Will some parent who reads this please help me understand your perspective?

On a more serious note, whoever first put together chocolate and pretzels is a genius.

I am a child.

This is what journalism is all about.

This is what the gospel is all about.

This is my stake.

Please read this article. Let me know your thoughts.

I know the people in this article. I have gay friends and relatives. I think we all do. I think this article (as well as the movement in my stake, all of which happened while I was a missionary) is the best I've ever read on the subject. But, tell me what you think.

I will not say which school I subbed at today. I will say it was a harrowing experience, one that's left me spiritually, emotionally, mentally exhausted. A transvestite was in my first period class. Probably 17-years-old. Throughout the day I was exposed to lewd, base, immoral conduct and vulgarities, from high school-age BABIES. As a good friend of mine once commented to me (a non-LDS friend): "Lisa, how can I bring kids into the world with all the evil and wickedness? I just can't do it. It's not right."

No, it's not right, but we must do it anyway. We must be unafraid. We must grow our faith until it trumps our fear.

I've asked myself many pivotal questions today, those questions whose answers reinvent our spiritual core. What will I do if the man I marry turns out to be gay? What if I have a gay child? What if my children choose to disobey the gospel for a time? For the duration of their lives? What will I do when my children are mocked and belittled for their beliefs?

I know what I will do. I will stand tall. I will arm myself with faith. As one of my favorite hymns says: "Gird up your loins. Fresh courage take. Our God will never us forsake. ...All is well."

And it is.

Mosiah 18:9

Fourth grade yesterday. The kids were good. SO GOOD. Their teacher must be amazing.

Just before music an eager-to-please young lady remarked to me: "Wow, Miss R, your teeth look like fangs!" Other students looked at her, wondering if she had any clue what she'd just said. I told this student, "You're lucky my feelings don't get hurt. That was not a nice thing to say to someone. I would advise you never tell anyone their teeth look like fangs ever again." Meaning, you could get beat up for talking to someone like that, and you're in fourth grade, so you should know better by now.

I had morning recess duty. A young boy who was not in my class and who I had never seen ran over to me, immediately locked arms with me, and hung on like a baby cub being stalked by a predator. He told me his name, that he was from Japan. He wouldn't look at me. Then, in an unprecedented move, he hugged me! Was it a dare? Did he fall sway to that unspeakable attraction many children have toward me? I don't know, because just as quickly as he came, he left.

No sooner had this young man left, when five girls from my class started stampeding toward me, shouting something. At a ten foot distance, they were still charging, so I ran. What are they shouting at me? I thought. "Catch the cutie!" they yelled. "Catch her!" "You're too cute to not be chased!" "Miss R, do you have a boyfriend?" (This is the number one question I'm asked by female students). "Catch the cutie catch the cutie catch the cutie!"

After talking with the herd for a few minutes, "fang" girl ran up to me holding a picture she drew. Of me.



"Wow, thanks," I said.

"Miss R, can I sing you a song?" "Fang" girl says. "Sure."

The herd left as "fang" girl, who was the nerd of the class, serenaded me with her best rendition of "You Raise Me Up." It was actually mildly impressive. She was perfectly in tune, and that song requires some technical skill. "Well done," I told her. I meant it.

When I arrived at the school in the morning, the TA who took me to my class told me about one "problem student." Behavioral issues, she said. This little boy was the sweetest little boy all day. I saw anger in him, for sure. But my heart went out to this kid. Later in the day, the kids worked on their "What it means to be a friend" essays. This boy was working on his concept map, but not very successfully. "What is wrong?" I asked him. "I can't write this essay because I have no friends. I don't know what it means to be a friend because I have no friends."

It reminded me of a kid in my fifth grade class, Bowie. One day, as we worked on a similar friend project, Bowie told my teacher he couldn't complete the assignment because his rolodex of friends was empty. My heart cried out to Bowie that day, just as it did to this little boy yesterday. It went out to him because, from my observations at recess and in the class, he was telling the truth. No one talked to him, and if they did, it was to berate him. I caught multiple children doing that to him throughout the day, and to "fang" girl. Behavioral problems aside, the one thing I DO NOT tolerate in children is talking down to one another. This young boy was intelligent. He had trouble focusing on his own, but he could multiply and write and spell and read as well as the brain of the class. He just needed someone to sit with him and help him keep on task. As I sat with him to work on his idea map, me trying to hide my tears, this little boy opened up enough to tell me he felt like his teacher was his only friend. His teacher. So we listed qualities his teacher had as his only friend: He would do anything for me, Friends defend each other, Friends are always there for each other, Friends never leave each other. It was so pure. I'm tearing up even now. Because friendship denotes the purest love. That's what I saw in this boy. The pure love he wanted to share with others if given a chance.

It's times like these that confirm for me how much I want to be a teacher. I have always detested loneliness. It's difficult and undeserved at any age. But for a child to feel so lonely and unloved and outcast. It's not right. It breaks my heart.

I got the job at Wells Fargo.

What a difference a day makes.

I wonder these days if I am too independent. Too confident. I've been told many times that I am very intimidating, but I've also been told many times that I'm not intimidating at all.

In high school I was voted "Least Intimidating" because of my happy-happy-joy-joy pep and demeanor. I think old age and life experience has softened this a bit, though I do frequently resort to being insatiably happy. Why not, when life is what it is.

A wise friend once told me that marriage is for two people who don't necessarily need each other, but they want/choose to be together, because they love each other. They make each other better. In time, because of this betterment, they realize that they are nothing without the other person. I've observed this in many relationships. Namely my parents'. Sometimes they're hard to get along with, and who isn't, but I treasure those times that I've watched them work it out. It doesn't take much. It takes love. But I was always in awe of this as a child, that two people who got frustrated with each other could refrain from getting upset, from getting irritated, from yelling and fighting as my siblings and I were so wont to do.

There are few times in my life that I've needed someone, and I used to pride myself in this. But as I've grown older, I've learned that just like I needed my parents when I was a baby, I need someone now to help me grow into who I need to be. It's a weird feeling. I think I realized it best as a missionary, sharing both good and not-so-good times with companions.

I guess what I'm saying is that to those of you who've seen me at my weakest, thank you for sticking with me. I don't like showing weakness. I rarely do. I feel vulnerable when I do. But I know I need to. I frequently feel at my weakest these days, as the frustrations of job hunting and the haze of the future rest squarely upon my shoulders. I have been unduly blessed with the best of friends. And I feel so humbled every time I feel your love and support. Undeserving really.

I slept for 9.5 hours last night, and I am feeling much better.

Today I subbed in a 2nd grade class in Sugarhouse. Music was playing on the PA as I walked in--old time music that takes you back to a time you wish you lived in because supposedly everyone was happier then and life was simpler and cars were longer and bigger and Mac products hadn't even been thought of yet. The kids didn't believe me when we played two truths and a lie and I told them I play in a rock band (true, although it may or may not be classified as a rock band). One of the kids wrote a book called "Captain Fart Man" in honor of the Captain Underpants series (one of my favorites. My brother's Captain Underpants name was Poopsy Chucklebutt). Another kid called me over as he wrote his story. He said to me: "Miss R, I used to live in London for five years before that I lived in Boston when I lived in London I went to a building that was never bombed because Hitler wanted it for his office my story is about Nazis my great-grandpa fought in World War 2 he was American he won lots of medals he died when I was four i met him and two days later he died. Mrs. R I need to know how to spell Hitler."

Whoa there.

Which grade level should I request for Teach For America?!?!?! I love them all!!! I have no clue.

Anyway, I am off to bite the bursitis bullet. Meaning, I am going running!!!! I am so excited. Pray that I don't get bone spurs for this one.

I saw Spring today.

Junior high. Thank you for the laughs. Today I was asked on a date by a student. I overheard some not-so-discreet young men discussing my level of hotness. I was mistaken for Taylor Swift. I was deemed "coolest sub ever" by sixth period.

Glad to know I can roll with 8th graders.

Thank you, Jeffreys.

The poet Robert Browning wrote:

"Grow old along with me!
The best is yet to be,
The last of life, for which the first was made:
Our times are in his hand
Who saith, “A whole I planned,
Youth shows but half; trust God: see all, nor be afraid!”

Some of you may wonder: Is there any future for me? What does a new year or a new semester, a new major or a new romance, a new job or a new home hold for me? Will I be safe? Will life be sound? Can I trust in the Lord and in the future? Or would it be better to look back, to go back, to stay in the past?

- Elder Jeffrey R. Holland

---

As President Monson poignantly put it in the April 2009 General Conference: "The future is as bright as our faith." How true that is.

The man himself

This is my daddy!!!!

I am so proud of him :)

Things I should have done.

Thank you Weiser Idaho for a memorable weekend.

I rode a horse, drove a tractor, fed cattle, peed in a lean-to, watched a dog cuddle with a dead calf, went to a high school basketball game, and remembered how much I love being a missionary. All of these were firsts except the first and last. I am all about firsts.

I found out today that my old music teacher died of stomach cancer on the 15th. One day as I put the neck on my saxophone, Tony, a die-hard astrologist, cried, "Whoa Lisa, when were you born?" I told him. He pointed to a poster of Charlie Parker, hanging on the wall above me. The birth date said August 29, 1920, only a few days after mine. Then he pointed to the neck of Parker's sax, and to the neck of mine. "You're both Virgos," Tony said. "And look, you play with the neck at the same angle Charlie Parker did." Tony thought I channeled Charlie Parker when I played. Maybe I did. I was playing "Fly Me to the Moon" pretty decently after two lessons, so I could have.

Tony got me started on the bass guitar, and he sold me my Fender Mexican Strat and little Danelectro amp. And I think he was my biggest fan. He encouraged me to pursue music as a career. "You have what it takes," he'd say.

Over Christmas I felt prompted over and over that me and my siblings needed to go visit Tony. We knew he was sick. Every time I'd drive by his studio I'd think, "Go see Tony." Of course I ignored it and we didn't go.

The summer before Grandma died, I thought and thought, "I need to interview Grandma on video." Then I thought, "No, I'll do it at Thanksgiving." She died November 5.

The morning Kaye died, I was cooking spaghetti sauce. Sister Morrill had just had surgery and was dozing in a Vicodin-induced super slumber. I needed some herbs; I wanted fresh basil from Kaye's garden, just across the street. I should just go get some, I thought. Really I need to. The thought came and came and came, but I stayed put and stayed put and stayed put because I wasn't supposed to leave Mo.

I will never know.

Consider the lilies

Ceci n'est pas une pipe. A concept Magritte perpetuated to explain reality. What is and what isn't. If only he knew how well this relates to the gospel of Jesus Christ.

Our Brother would have us focus on what is. Who we are. What we are. I am a daughter of God. I am a strong, confident, talented woman. I possess potential limited only by my own choices.

Our other brother, that Lucifer, terrorizes us with the tempestuous swindling of what we are not. (I'll spare you what I am not. You can probably already tell me that and I don't like to focus on it anyway).

We, as beloved children of God, cannot and should not define ourselves by what we are not. That is not reality. That is not the way of the gospel. Though I've pondered on this idea for the past month, this week it has infiltrated my reality. Heavenly Father often prepares us for these things.

Onto the more superficial.

Substitute teaching. A near-perfect profession for one who's transient, like myself. Near-perfect because let's face it: Does anyone aspire to be a substitute teacher?

No, no. Probably not.

Yesterday I subbed at a middle school in Provo. I love subbing middle school, adapting to the different dynamic in each class, discovering immediately that the class clown is wholly unpredictable on sight alone. The period two class clown was in a friendly verbal dispute with a classmate. I only heard the class clown's final response, which was: "Tu madre." I laughed. I shouldn't have, but I did. And the class caught me. Another girl, who was a 5th period student of mine, had been told all day that she and I looked exactly alike. Sure enough, we did, and we were even wearing almost identical coats. Lastly was period 6. It had come up during class that I served a mission. I don't remember how. Later, I commented to one student (I don't remember exactly what) in formal, proper English. The kind of English no one really uses unless they write for The New Yorker. After the comment, the class clown said: "Dang, did you serve your mission in the medieval times or something?"

Comic genius.

The sky is falling!

I feel it necessary to announce I am ending my long time love affair with my most favorite appendage, my third limb as some say:



It's true. After a long courtship and engagement, my fizzy friend and I are parting ways. Explanation.

1. Soda is bad for you whether it's diet or not. Lying to myself doesn't change this fact.
2. One should never voluntarily put acid in his or her body.
3. My bursitis-inflicted hip flares when I drink caffeine. So does my heart rate.
4. Sometimes it takes the right person to tell you to quit, because from them it finally makes sense.
5. I'm going to save several hundred dollars this year from quitting soda, so maybe I can finally get myself that tube amp I've wanted forever.

Now, I expect all of you friends to support me. Please do not tempt me, call me wanting to get a sip, text me wanting to get a sip, or bring me a Diet Coke in the car ever again. (Megan, this especially means you since you frequently do this. I appreciate it. But since you can't drink soda now that Brutus is gone, I won't either. And if you can still drink Diet Coke even though Brutus is gone, you should just tell me you can't).

Goodbye, Lover.

The weight of the world

I've returned from a successful trip to Houston. It was a great time and I will never forget it. Highlights include: Brazos Bend State Park (where we saw real alligators!), Half Price Books, Houston Temple, Good Company Texas barbeque, warm weather, Gulf of Mexico/the beach, "Slumdog Millionaire," seeing St. John's School AKA Rushmore Academy, realizing Houston is a really cool city, and kickin' it with Jeff, one of my dearest friends.

I'm afraid, however, that my post-mission honeymoon is over. As I've faced an afternoon of job searching today, I have felt a consuming feeling of urgency. A do-or-die ultimatum Darwin himself couldn't handle.

People: I NEED A JOB. And I will not rest until that paycheck is made out to me.

Holy General Authority, Batman!

Utah celeb sighting! Elder Craig Zwick and his sweet wife are currently sitting inches from me in the SLC Airport. Just had a nice chat with them. I actually met Elder and Sister Zwick in the MTC, had a nice chat with them there. My mom and Sister Zwick were sorority sisters. Elder Zwick and my mom apparently went on a few dates.

I am flying to Houston on a plane with propellers! How cool is that? Frontier Airlines only has Pepsi products. What kind of second rate airline is this?

Anyway, I gotta go. I'll write something worth reading soon. I love you lots.

Holy minimalism.

Tomorrow I leave for Houston!!!




I get to see Jeff!




Gene Kelly is a hunk.




'Nuff said.

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.