5 (12) days to go.

I have heaps to do. Final preparations, packing, checklists. I have to go through most of my worldly possessions and determine which will be placed in storage for two years and which will be accompanying my family to England in June. I need to go to Tallahassee to move the rest of my things home. I want to see old friends one last time before I disappear. I have to find a packet of papers the Oklahoma Mission sent me which I read and promptly lost three weeks ago.

I have a cold. Lying in a semiconscious heap whilst pushing the cold meds and fluids was not exactly how I envisioned spending the last four-odd days before my life changes forever. Technically I'll have a week in Utah with family before reporting to the MTC, but I'm supposed to be set apart by my stake president before I get on the plane, so the mission essentially begins on Tuesday night-ish. I'm not sure how the rules are in between getting set apart and setting foot on MTC property, but I'm guessing all the rules about not being alone and not watching non-Church-related media will be in full effect.

It's a bit depressing, leaving. Technically my farewell from the student ward took place back in December. I've spent enough time in the fifth ward and seen enough missionaries leave from here to realize that nothing will be the same once I come back. (The uncertain part of me adds, If I come back.) Every year there are new arrivals into the social scene, and others leave for school or jobs or missions or marriage. Every year I've spent in Tallahassee old friends have left for one reason or another, and new people have come in their stead. Sometimes it's hard to remember that Friend X never knew Friend Y, because they just missed each other in the end-of-summer shuffle that sends out recent graduates or transfer students and receives a boat load of incoming freshmen or new grad students.

So I'm not kidding myself that everyone I leave will be here to greet me when I come back to Tallahassee, whether to visit or to live. Heck, when I came up only a few weeks ago there were people I didn't know, and half the ones I did were looking at me funny with greetings of, "I thought you were on a mission already."

The singles ward is a transient way of life. I won't expect that to change just because I'm the one who's leaving.

Church. Some awful (i.e. more of a travel log than anything spiritual) testimonies followed by an awesome first-time testimony by my ten year old sister. Several people in the ward wondered who she was and came up to her to tell her how good it was. Turns out the bishop got several questions wondering who this new girl was and called my grandma once he found out who she belonged to.

Left church early to go to Salt Lake. Felt a little guilty taking my laptop to the Apple Store for repairs, but they operate on scheduled appointments and since my family's leaving on Tuesday this was the best we could do. Ran around the shopping center while we waited and rode the elevator up and down with some people who smelled like cigarettes. Rode the escalator up but then it broke ("An escalator can never break. It can only become stairs.") Got a call from Daddy telling us he was done dropping off my laptop and as we ran to the car this noble fanfare music broke out all over the shopping center. Who knew why, but it made us feel epic.

Drove to see the DeGraffenrieds, the family my parents met while they were on a cruise. Likely the only two LDS families on that cruise, and they somehow wound up assigned to the same dinner table. They have eight kids, which is fan-freaking-tastic. We stayed there for dinner and chatted for hours. I finished the scarf I started last night, and made a hat to match since I hate having leftover yarn.

Went over to my aunt and uncle's where my aunt had slaved over Julia Child's cookbook making an amazing chicken with parmesan crust and spiced green beans and chocolate almond cake. All containing vast amounts of butter, of course. Julia wouldn't have it any other way.

Family leaves for Florida the day after tomorrow. How they'll get home when we don't even know what happened to our stolen car (which was then found and has yet to be collected by the insurance agent since the police won't tell them which lot it's in)...well, I guess we'll find out soon enough.

This time last year I made no definite plans.  I'm not one for making huge, life-altering resolutions, partly because I think it doesn't need to happen every year at a certain point.  Partly because I'm not a fan of following the crowd.  

I didn't make last year's resolution list until January 4.  That shows how much of a rebel I am.  And I didn't include earth-shattering resolutions like "Get married," "Lose 20 pounds," "Cure cancer."  That's not my style.  I preferred to select little things, like "Appreciate the times when the bus comes right when I need it," and "Realize that no matter how hard I try, my new haircut will never look as good as the photo I'm basing it on."

But this year I think it's best to write down a list of things that will probably happen.  You know, if all goes well.  "Resolution" means "a firm decision," and I've come to learn over the past several years (and even months) that a lot of things are really not up to us.  So I'm going to do my best to make these things happen, but I'll allow for a little wiggle room.

In 2010:

I will enter the Provo MTC for a few weeks of intensive spiritual boot camp.

I will begin my 18-month mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, laboring in the Oklahoma Tulsa Mission.

I will meet a variety of interesting, friendly, difficult, happy, angry, frustrated, curious, and possibly smelly people.

I will learn more about the gospel, about people, and about myself than I have ever known before.

I will ask a lot of questions.  I might even answer some as well.

I will take lots of pictures.  I will write many letters.

I will probably not attend many movies, dances, parties, or sporting events.  I will likewise not get asked out on many dates.

But before all that, I might...just might...solve this Rubik's cube.