A Few of My Favorite Things

Kaylee showed me a website where you can buy glasses for $8.00. I was reluctant at first, but loved my first pair so much, I bought a second pair. They make me feel stylish and artsy.

Skirt from Burlington Coat Factory. Shoes from Sister Missionary Mall (I'm so unoriginal, I know). Both stores gave me hope that I don't have to be too frumpy in order to follow the clothing guidelines.

Coolest invention since sticky notes- Pen Again. A frequent journal writer, I have found a new love. This pen takes away any pain, weakness or numbness. It's strange to get used to, but worth it! You can get them at Staples or Wal-Mart for a couple bucks.

Jacket from D.I. (I sure love thrift stores).
Pearls from my Grandma Adamson.


The Templo. Last Saturday, I went to the Timpanogos Temple to receive my endowment. It was everything I have been told. It was beautiful and wonderful and just...perfect. I loved it!

It's been fun, but expensive getting ready for a mission. I have just over two months until the MTC. There's so much to do by then! My tooth with the hole (remember?) decided to split open again today while I was taking my daily multi-vitamin. I figure there is nothing the dentist can do, so I will just be sure to stay away from nuts. More rinsing with salt water- yeehaw. You have no idea how much I miss almonds and pistacchios! Watch out, they may give you Salmonella. On that note, thanks for reading! ♥

A Letter From the Prophet

Wednesday, March 11, 2009

7:45AM- I call the Orem Post Office and say I am expecting an important package. "May I come get it in person?" A grumpy voice named Richard gets my name, number and address and spits, "If it's here, we will call you." I hang up and stare at the phone for a whole minute. What if he's looking for a box? Is he gonna call? He's not gonna call. The phone rings and my stomach about jumps out my throat. "Sheresa?...Is it a package or an envelope? A mission call, huh? Yes, it's here and we're going to burn it." I lose all sense of reality and stop breathing. "I'm just giving you a hard time. Go ahead and come on down!"

8:07AM- I STILL cannot find my wallet. I know, since it's a federal office, they will ask for ID. Finally, I find it in my scripture case. Trying my best to keep the speed limit and not get lost, I pull up to the post office. A cute white-haired man gets my name and address. When he comes back out, he's got a huge grin on his face. "Jerry [the postman for my neighborhood] says you're excited about the one on the top!" He winks, "I hope it's the Bahamas!"

8:31AM- What beter way to start my day then with a Champ from Ernies? But seriously.

9:42AM- The hike up Battle Creek begins...

This day could not be complete without my
Chacos, of course, despite the snow.

This is me right after I opened it. I'm still a little teary.

I read it backwards (thanks for the idea, Kraig) and
the first thing I said was, "It's signed by the prophet!"
Look how cute his old man handwriting is.

"You are assigned to labor in the Missouri, Independence Mission." Independence. It's perfect. Does every missionary feel this lucky? "In addition to your calling to share the gospel with nonmembers, you will be assigned to serve in the Independence Visitor's Center."

Yep, I'm pretty daRn excited!

12:12:PM- We set up the webcams and stuff and I read my call to my family (again, backwards).

I could not be happier! This blows everywhere else I thought I wanted to go out of the water. I am so excited! I report to the Missionary Training Center June 10, 2009 (three days before my birthday-ha!).

NO REGRETS!

Possible Mission Call Eve

... is much worse than Christmas Eve when I was five years old, by the way. A few days ago, my usual text message sound went off (currently "Hey Jude"). My dear, sweet mother, who is up to date on the latest and greatest (I made sure she had Gmail and she chose to join Facebook), says, "Oh! It's Roo's mission call! They come in a text nowadays." That's why we keep her around.

The bishop checked online, where he learned the letter was sent on March 6th. It could come anytime, but tomorrow is the best bet. I called the post office to see my options for getting my call earlier than if I just wait for the mailman. Capt. Ornery Pants said to call back tomorrow at 8AM.

Listen to what I was taught by Elder Neal A. Maxwell today about worrying--

"Overanxiety...is like pulling up the daisies to see how the roots are doing, checking up on the sentries so incessantly that they become trigger-happy, and wringing one's hands instead of folding them in prayer." (Wherefore, Ye Must Press Forward, p. 63).

My lonely mailbox (notice there are no daisies).

Remember the Worth of...Holes?

Yesterday, I noticed something was wrong with my mouth. When I felt both sides of my face with my hands, there was a very tangible difference between the two. My left side felt like a new bone had grown on the side of my lower gum. Had I been punched? Not thinking much of it, I continued to rub my cheek and poke the new growth with my tongue (as anyone would with something foreign in his/her mouth) throughout the day.

I woke up as a chipmunk. Awesome. No, there are not pictures.

The first words I said this morning were, "Hi, I'd like to make an appointment", but it sounded more like, "I'b blige poo mage aboim-bemb." She automatically turned on her special ed teacher voice. I felt like a rockstar, let me tell you.

3:45 rolls around (thank goodness it wasn't tooth hurty) and I realize I haven't eaten all day. I hurry and stuff a bacon & avocado sandwich down my throat--literally. I can't chew at this point, but the sandwich was too fantastic to pass up. I grab my toothbrush, so the doctor won't have to deal with bacon breath (mmmmm).

Finally a red stop light! Time to brush and spit. Brushing went fine. I roll down the window and spit. Surprise! It's all over my arm and my shirt and my driver's seat. Maybe I am special...At least I eventually stopped laughing, so I could shift into first gear.

My dentist says I have an infection. "If it's okay with you, I think we will numb it, puncture it and squeeze out the puss." He made a face that said, "Please say no. This is not my favorite." I agreed and he got to work. I heard him ask his assistant for a spoon. No joke! With the earphones up very loud, I watched Transformers and ignored the various torture devices that went into my mouth. Yes, it was gross. Yes, I could feel and taste the stuff that came out. --awkward silence--

Welp! I am back at stage one- Don't spit, don't use a straw, here's a syringe and your antibiotics prescription, rinse with salt water...blah, blah. At least we caught this before the MTC!

This is a picture of the gaping hole in my mouth. Delicious! By the way, it's been a month since I had my wizzum teef out. Cray-see!