Dad never did tell me how the Super Bowl turned out.

 (Editor's note: this will probably be Calista's last mission post, since she comes home Saturday.)


And I'm so disappointed. Here I was, a lonely (well, ish. A companion, other missionaries, and amazing members don't count here. To say nothing of the amusing people on the street... which reminds me - I almost got another proposal this week. He was drunk (no real surprise there) and sort of hovering around while we were trying to talk to a more-or-less interested man beside him. He didn't have much interest in hearing about the Gospel (he did take a blank pass-along card (reserved for just these sort of occasions) when I handed it to him, though), but when he figured out that we were from AMERICA the interest level went up about 500%. Coincidentally, that was also the time we figured we should be making our escape, and we did so. I've already forgotten what I started this parenthetical thought with, but hey, at the very least I'm going to remember to close the parenthesis off. See?) Oh right, missionary. Lonely missionary, wandering along the streets in Far East Russia (or, as Sister Jarman and I have taken to affectionately calling it, "Mars") wondering how in the world the Super Bowl ended, and who won... although admittedly I can't actually recall who it was that was playing. But. That's not the Point. Upon opening my email today I was severely disappointed to find that in my inbox was not, as might be expected, the results of the Super Bowl, but instead mere LETTERS. And entertaining ones, at that. Siiiiigh. Life as a missionary is such a difficult thing sometimes.

In any case, last week I forgot to congratulate Steven with his birthday (which is what they do around here... as though it's a miracle you managed to survive another year), so I figured I'd do it now... eight days away from my own birthday. So. With the birthday Steven, with the birthday.

I don't know if I've told you about District Language Study before now, but it's something that President Pratt instituted as a way to help us help each other speak, read, write, and generally make better use of the Russian language. We meet twice a week and do various and sundry language-oriented tasks such as reading from the scriptures, learning something grammatical, practice speaking, and the like. Sometimes it's entertaining, sometimes, well, it's like a language class. Yesterday we decided to practice our Russian-to-English translating skills and the results were extremely hilarious... especially when the word for "train car" was mistranslated into "fire" (they are very close) and the sentence became, "and she sat in the fire for a good fifteen minutes." Good times. I was thinking about it the other day, and I realized that I'm going to go back to hearing church in English, which is just weird. I've sat in church in Russian since the MTC, and I'm having trouble wrapping my mind around the concept of 100% understandable church. Who's going to do the translating? Maybe I'll make use of my Returned Missionary Awkwardness and translate for myself. ... or something.

Anyway, as far as potential family pictures go, I hope you're prepared to have a just-returned-from-Russia-on-

an-airplane me in the picture, because I can't make too many guarantees about what I'm going to look like. I'm all for the "color theme" you picked, and I guess you can find me something to wear if you'd like. I'm not feeling too picky about much of anything at this point (except of course what I want to eat on my birthday... if at all possible. I've been thinking about Red Robin hamburgers for the last... oh, probably two weeks of my life. They sound extremely delicious. Just for the record).

But, I suppose that's all I've got for you. It's been real, it's been fun, and... I'll just let you fill that one in yourselves. I dunno what I'm going to do without my weekly Monday afternoon (I can be redundant. I'm a missionary) letters home. Guess I'll have to fill them in with something. Enjoy the week though, and try not to do too many stressful things.

Love you!
-Sister Read

Monday Februray 7, 2011. Afternoon.

Sometimes I start these letters and I feel like I should put them in the same format as my "Writing to President" letters, which, as a general rule, tend to go something like this:

Dear Family,

We spent a lot of time out on the street this week, which was probably good for us. Nobody was really interested in actively investigating the church, but at the very least we did get some good conversations in, and they've got our information. The weather warmed up too, which was nice because it meant that we could walk around for longer periods of time without feeling like we were putting our fingers and toes at serious risk. Next week should be pretty good as well.

Thanks for everything!

Sister Read

Well, okay, maybe my letters to President aren't quite so cheesy (at least I hope not. Then again, maybe they are, and I'm just not seeing it), but sometimes that's exactly what I feel like I'm writing.

In any case, the weather really DID warm up this week, to the point where I would go hours of a time without a hat on my head and without any negative consequences as a result of that. Miracles really do happen. We did spend a lot of time on the street, but since that's not anything new I don't even know if it's worth reporting. We have been keeping track of all the creative ways people say "no" to us though. Some people like to go for the little wave of the hand, as if they're trying to brush off an annoying fly. Others like to say things like, "no, I did not give you permission to speak to me. You may keep moving." Oh, Russia. This country basically makes my life.

It's nice to know that I'm going to be released on the 20th and not the 19th, by the way. I was trying to imagine going straight to the Church at 9 or 10:00 at night after a reeeeally long flight and it wasn't doing much for me. But. I guess that's all in the past, so now I just have to look forward to seeing everybody in the airport (I am, lest anybody think that it's Not Allowed, officially giving my permission for people to be there at the airport when I come home, although they're the ones who are going to have to deal with me after many many hours of flights).

Anyway, I'm running out of time, so I guess I'll end this. Love you all, see you in a couple of weeks!

-Sister Read