San-Furan-Cisco Adler

Dudes! It’s truly unfortunate that you’re not here to keep me occupied when naps seem tempting, as waking up from one a few minutes ago was exceedingly unpleasant. But some stars and chocolate milk should do the trick to revive me from a state of sleep-inflicted drowsiness. You’re in the incredible San Francisco at this very moment! Can you taste the ocean air? Are you recovered from car sickness? Are you enjoying the Califonia sun? Have you listened to loads of Beach Boys songs? Are there sandy beaches? Have you traversed THE bridge yet? How many times has Dad been hit on? How do you manage to write the most entertaining postcards ever? Are sunsets etcetera on the coast even more stunning? Are you sad to be leaving in a short while? What are the new fave spots that you frequent? Any great corner stores/cafés/vantage points that you’ve familiarized yourselves with? I’m sure that no matter what, it’ all faaabulous. Additionally, I hope that you’re making use of lingo such as faaabulous a great deal in your city of residence at the moment. Dad, savour the chance to wear your shoes without ridicule for the next while! Soon you’ll be back in the land of enforced close-mindedness, and, dare I say it, H-phobia. Really though, I’ve become attached to the blue shoes, and have determined that they could fit my feet quite splendidly. Avoid tanning, of course, and continue to enjoy the trip and the lack of Harper-ness that exists there; I’m assuming, of course, that repressing the fact of George Bush’s close presence has proven to be your best course of action. However, perhaps he would mainly bother me were I in the States at the current moment.

Guys, I miss you a lot. Especially when serotonin kicks in late at night, or during walks with God to 5:30 shifts at work, I really wish you were here. Everything is simply more effortless when you’re around, even though the house is not nearly as chaotic and bustling as it typically is since you evaporated into thin American air, and I am provided with delightful reminders of you through your ever-happifying postcards. I’m not certain that I can quite summarize what has transpired since you were away, but I’ll test my limits of succinctness and stick to the bare minimum of what’s happened “Since You Been Gone,” including the fact that I’ve actually been transformed into Kelly Clarkson. Big-ish news would comprise of the recent birth of Micah Nathan Harris (who has Nathan’s red hair, I am told, and came in at a lovely 7lbs 9oz), Alice’s 81st birthday (which was celebrated with a frozen cake that Ruth made for Alice’s 80th birthday; yes, it said “Happy 80th Birthday”), the Eskimos inconsistent dominance in the best sport ever, Karen’s constant fiddling around on the lawn outside, the Flenders' triumphant return/visit, and my conversion to gangstahood. You’re honourary members of my gang, the Shinies. The kitchen was invaded by ants in the space of an eight hour shift at work today somehow; there were hundreds, but with some advice from Grandpa and assistance from the lurvely Anne, it’s all under control. It’s quite sadistically pleasing to watch them squirm around prior to their deaths. If only Jess were here to refer to them all as Ernie with me. Bethany and I met some muskrat/beavers last week named Sally, who was actually an old man beaver, and Fred, who was his/her lover of several years. It wasn’t quite the same as Ernie the ant, but very few things in life are, even muskrat/beavers. Just as an FYI, the floor was insanely clean, as I’d swept obsessively the night prior, so this migration into our house from under the baseboard under the 1920s window in the entryway was a freak fluke evidently.

There truly are a billion more things I’d like to discuss, but it’s insanely late, and I’ve got an insane list of things I need to do before heading off to bed, so I’ll bid you adieu. Saturday marks the initiation of my one week countdown, and after that I’ll be excited every day for your return. But continue to have a blast on vos vacances ma famille! And I eagerly await Dad’s thousands of pictures; they’re sure to be very Ansel, or perhaps very Uncle Everett, depending on how often he wears his glasses. Inexplicable photos are, after all, the most entertaining of all, and if people are going to be subjected to a slideshow, it’s for the best if it’s at least mildly amusing. Really though, I’m sure you’re surrounded by very un-Albertan beauty at the moment, and are appreciating it a great deal. I’m thinking of you and praying for you every day, and certainly missing you at a level of about 10 out of 10! But don’t worry at all; I’ve had ridiculous amounts of fun too in your absence, just not tons of wholesome family silliness, chatter, and activity. Although there was an ant scare earlier today, the house is still grafitti-free, I baked without setting the house alight, and seemingly every member of our extended family has checked up on me in a very loving manner. How will I ever grow up with all of this agreeable coddling? Speak to you soon! Love you than I love the Nick Drake CD I’m listening to right now that reminds me of you three! Toodles familia!

Lo-o-o-ove,
Cait

P.S. The Eskies very narrowly lost tonight; the Bombers pulled through with 4 seconds left in a miracle play. I almost lost my sanity (even moreso)!

P.P.S. I’m writing this at 2:00 in the morning after a really long day. It’s quite enjoyable, but I’m not really sure at all how much sense it makes. I should have sent a late night writing decoder along with you; it would be quite useful for blogs such as these!

P.P.P.S. Nearly everyone you’ve ever met who I stumble across asks how you’re doing, and says to say hi. So, from everyone who you hold dear to you back in this city, here’s a collective howdy! They’re all jealous, and wishing you well! When you’re back here, tell them that I told you that I said they said hi. And that I write coherently some of the time, just not a lot of the time when I type.

Fun Things from Last Weekend

• Bethany of Gesthemane and me organizing ornate collections of pinecones
• falling backwards off of playground equipment
• hanging out with Tim’s golf clubs for long periods of time
• enjoying a cat (really, it was quite pleasant, and I named it Charlton Heston; it came into Evergreen for a moment, and found me quite irresistible it would seem)
• working a crazy busy day on Saturday
• eating Grandma’s raspberries
• witnessing the magical arrival of a diamond ring and fancy-dancy watch into a can of corn
• eating my first elephant ear of the festival season topped with tons of brown and icing sugar, of course
• pouring a pitcher of water on Rob, only out of a sense of justice
• taking in some lovely Alberta city-stars
• getting beaten by Ed in a “friendly” game of bocce
• holding down table-cloths with Grandma in near-tornadoes
• spreading mousse all through my hair, wearing it out of doors, and having to rinse it out with the hose on the jet setting
• observing two men prance around like Buddhist dancers (I’m sure there is such a thing) in Superman undies

Things I Miss Most

• how the kitchen smells like toast and coffee in the morning
• the sounds of Jess and Mom playing piano
• your inquisitive and curious natures
• Dad tapping strange rhythms on my ceiling and on the table
• Computer assistance à la Jess/Dad
• your cooking and the odour of your cooking
• taking pictures of Jess
• watching movies and gross TV with you in the family room
• discussing interesting, fun, and challenging topics
• eating meals at a table with you
• laughing during prayer
• teasing Dad incessantly about random things (and his reactions)
• your answering of telephones
• how you always notice innate details in life and point them out to me
• advice on how to make cocoa and how long to microwave leftovers
• a google-google other things!

Dear Family (The Blood Family, Not the Figurative Family)

I send you warm internet greetings, Mamushka, Diddy, and Hessica! First matter of business would be: I miss you so much I’m certain you can’t even fathom it! I watched Master and Commander Sunday night (my only time spent alone, thus far), and Edmonton is currently devoid of people who can appreciate my distaste for Russel Crowe and machismo, so no one was able to accompany me in my bellyaching about the film. It’s pretty excellent that we didn’t rent it that one time it wasn’t in at Rogers! Never fear though; I’ve been having loads of fun exercising my independence and convincing myself that there are no serial killers holed up in the oven. Sunday night was my first night sleeping alone ever in my entire life, as Crystal slept over on Saturday after we took in the Disney-licious Beauty and the Beast (I totally fell asleep before the log scene that I’m sure only Jess will remember). We purchased a delightfully yellow fruit called a casaba, and nearly had smoked oysters and chicken on our pizza, but quite frankly, Crystal chickened out (now you have your weekly dose of Grandpa-puns). Despite falling asleep far before a time befitting a Saturday night, we slept in past 10:50, and you’ll be pleased to hear that I showered and was only a couple of minutes late for the service; Crystal should stay over more often. I hope you guys were able to take in the World Cup through the wonders of radio or some such technology; it was a pretty enjoyable game, although France lost partially due to an unfortunate head-butting incident. The French coach looked intensely dismayed, and all of the beautiful black players (who bear a close resemblance to Paris-Ché, by the way) teared up. My wearing of a fuzzy beret seemingly brought Les Bleus no luck at all.















Grandma has officially called four times so far to ensure that I haven’t set the house ablaze or gotten lost wandering the streets of McKernan. Her and Grandpa even brought Sunday dinner on, you guessed it, Sunday, and visited for a while after a birthday bash for Ruth. There are far more opportunities to read now that you’ve evacuated the house; I shall be very literate and well read by the time you return next month. I may be quoting War and Peace and speaking in a British accent. Evergreen is ridiculously spotless at the present moment! On Sunday, I took the windows out of their frames and washed them with vinegar-water, and vacuumed everything twice after having a panic attack that ants might invade the house as they did in the summer of Europe trip 2003. I sanitized everything that might ever need sanitizing with boiling water and various cleaning products, and used the remainder of the contents of the Windex bottle. The exterior of the house is exceedingly clean as well since we’ve had epic Great Flood-style rain yesterday, and lightning nearly struck our house in a truly thrilling fashion; the light bulbs even lit up in a truly absurd manner. When I went out for a rain dance and to rescue Mom’s plants from the menacing downpour yesterday, I wore her red honeymoon rain jacket and it really did melt (I realize the correct term would be bleed, but this would make the red liquid I encountered even creepier than it was) colour. I thought there was blood on the floor for a second, but soon recognized the culprit. It’s drying on the porch as a sort of time out right now, and is looking quite forsaken. When Crystal and I went rolling down hills yesterday after the downpour, we realized that my arms were entirely red, especially my elbows which resembled beets of some sort. Even my underwear somehow was dyed. I forced Crystal Whistle to watch Garden State last night, and we even cooked a dinner of mouth-watering description, to be followed this morning by waffles and milk (note my semi-healthy eating habits; I even ate two apples today for a snack).















I’m slowly making plans to fill up this month somehow without you three here to watch weird movies, discuss Dutch domestic policy, nag me to sleep, play tennis, go for walks at absurd speeds, ride on the swings, etcetera. It’s obviously not the same without you, but I’m making due with those of us Edmontonians who believe that Edmonton is far superior to San Francisco, or perhaps don’t have the cash to visit that fairest of Californian cities. I hope you’ve had a chance to meet Donald Miller, and will in the future meet the governor of Caleeforneeya, since it’s not as impossible as it would seem: Caitlin showed me a picture last week of her left-leaning dad standing next to the Terminator (apparently her uncle is a Republican advisor; I’m not sure why I have remained friends with Caitlin). When you return from adventures afar, I’ll likely have purchased my Dynasty-style wedding dress, undertaken the ginormous task of cleaning Jess’ room, baked lots of cookies mainly for my own devouring pleasure, taken lots of pictures of random things, gone to a bunch of thrilling (hopefully) concerts, sustained the plants’ lives and named them appropriately, received a re-vamped Gazelda, and done lots of strange things without you guys to temper my oddity. I really had wanted to attach an audio clip of me saying “I lurve you,” as I found this highly entertaining last night and recorded it much to Crystal’s chagrin, but I suspect that this would take a bit too much research, and you can just imagine that it parallels the excellence of Friday night’s post-Upper Crust “You ah craaazy!” I’ve yet to lie down in an alley while laughing about the new saying, but I’m close to that point, and Jess won’t be there to kick/ridicule me. Thanks so much for all the love notes! They were very happifying when I got home from work on Saturday, and they’re stationed on the kitchen bulletin board for moments when I wish you were here to say such adorable and hilarious things. I’ll have to make a video soon and post it on YouTube so I can make equally charming statements; there are a few new songs I’ve discovered since your departure that I could set such a mini-film to.















I know that you guys are having the time of your lives in the lair of George Bush right now, but I’ll wish you continued über-fun nonetheless. I really do expect to see zillions of pictures when you’ve returned safely, and hope to hear many California-tales about how you learned to surf, acted like Summer and Marissa (except for the dying part), wore shark tooth necklaces everywhere, used the term “dude” excessively, were crestfallen that you missed the Gay Pride festivities by two weeks, ate tons of sushi, and have developed a strong desire to see an American actor similar to Arnie and Ronnie replace Ralph Klein as leader of our province. As a complete aside, Donald Miller enjoys Ronald Reagan slightly! This was more than a bit appalling, so if you have gotten his contact information since becoming BFFs with him in Portland, you really should tell him that you’re off to investigate the harm that he did to the great state of California in his term as governor. I hope driving is still lots of fun, and not at all exhausting or sickening; I’ve heard some stories from friends about the roads along the coast, but you all have stomachs of steel, so I’m certain there’s nothing to worry about. I would suggest honouring my seat in the Fergus the CRV by placing a cardboard cut-out of my head on it, or storing all of the food there. Jess could use it as a footrest too, I suppose, though I might find foot-grime on my spot, so I hope she’s keeping her shoes relatively clean. I do believe that I should cease this listing off of recommendations and let you all get back to what you’re oh-so skilled at: relaxing, making memories, and enjoying God’s creation and people! I’m praying for you on your journeys, and miss you bunches and bunches! In case you need a reminder: I love you!

Lurve,
Cait

P.S. I love you!

P.P.S. I should be home for some of the next few nights, so a phone call could be attempted perhaps. We should really have an answering machine though; calling would be much simpler, and I wouldn’t have to answer the phone when it was work on the other end!

P.P.P.S. For Jay Jay: ooga chakka, hooga hooga ooga chakka, hooga hooga ooga chaka! Imagine Inuit snowboarders catching fish in their mouths, and dearest David catching TV-cubes while balancing on a train. And David wearing a black trench whilst flying past the silhouette of some larg-ish city's downtown. I know you miss it.















Questions You Could Answer

• Should I go to the Flenders shindig on Thursday next week or go to football? I might see them next Sunday, but perhaps I should see all the Zionites on Thursday at the BBQ as well and meet the talking German wonder. Grandma subtly suggested that I attend.
• Why on earth don’t water-meter-readers read the water meters themselves? The plants were obstructing the door this morning, and one of these fine uniformed fellows went through the chaos that sat on the porch so he could ring our doorbell, and ask if I could do the reading myself. He expected me to know where in the utility room the water meter was! Ha! Crystal and I struggled mightily, and he had to come inside eventually to do the reading himself.
• Are we still A-OK for a family dinner the night Bri gets back before Anne and Tim head off for fun in the sun? Grandma said Irma had agreed it’d be great to get together, although Bri will be totally wiped, and Grandma will likely have it at their place. I’ve marked on the calendar, but perhaps some confirmation would be good.
• How heavy rain can the plants take? I shelter them whenever the rain gets bad, but maybe they’re more resilient than I imagine. So far the Lobelia is looking quite lovely (I pay extra special attention to it because its name resembles ours) and none of the flowers have gone to pot yet (it could be a pun if I mentioned the pots that the plants are housed in).
• Where’s my cord to connect Darwin the Camera to Gandalf the iMac? I suspect that you may have taken it in the SLR case by accident, which is fine, but I just need to know if I should search a bit more or perhaps pick one up so I can have photo-fun. The screen on Darwin isn’t quite large enough to stare at minute details for long periods of time, and my Darwin Jane is full of old photos that I scanned in your absence. (You should look at them in a moment of boredom, if there are any; I found uploading them quite enjoyable.)
• Why are buttermilk Eggos so much more expensive than the other Eggos? I had to purchase original flavoured waffles this morning because the buttermilk ones are far more pricey. I’ll have you know, however, that my shopping fun went quite well, an my total came to an even-steven $9.99. I should act as a financial advisor to lonely family-less students everywhere.
• How was Washington state? As fantabulous as the first time? Have you been mistaken for terrorists? Is Dad growing a beard? Have you been sunburned? Has Jess worn that green skirt every day? How is Fergus the CRV faring? Has Mom fallen in love with various coloured and eccentric objects? Have you seen much art? Is the water swim-able? Are Oregonians as amazing and clean as they sound? How has dining out West Coast-style been? What books on CD have you listened to thus far? Are you almost home yet?

Note: If you’re not Jess, Dad, or Mom, and are quite confused, my family’s on a trip to San Francisco and various other spots on the West Coast of America for a month. I’ve never been apart from my family for more than a grand total of six days, and am currently guarding our house Evergreen by staving off robbers and house-eggers. I’m not really used to being apart from them!

It's the Phoenix-Life for Me

I love new beginnings. I suppose there is redundancy inherent in "new beginnings," but the sensation of being able to start from page zero, at least figuratively, is so lovely and calming. There's a line in Anne of Green Gables where Ms. Shirley tells Anne that each day is a fresh start, and while that thought is exceedingly obvious, it's additionally exceedingly comforting. When I consider that as the sun sets, so too can my foibles, faux pas, and struggles from that day, I can breathe a slight sigh of relief. I reliably make a fool of myself at some point every day, and it's painful to recognize how I've let God down over the course of a 24 hours. There's hope in the knowledge that I can always aim to better myself, grow in relationship with God, and gain wisdom from the circumstances and people around me. If I didn't have that comfort and optimism for coming days, it could be truly wearying to strive for anything better. Although hackneyed, the great number of clichés about life being a journey, and our spiritual lives progressing as we age in years are incredibly true. Human ability to learn from mistakes and improve through experience is remarkable, and it's certainly healthy to strive for something more no matter what place we are in our lives. As of late, I've received a sense of a starting a clean slate from working for a new boss, starting new books, reorganizing my t-shirt drawer, and simply brushing my teeth. Obviously, this idea is connected to God's gift of grace in our lives, as the experience of starting anew isn't any stronger than when accepting His clemency. My grandpa loved to demonstrate how Jesus could wash away our sins by letting a group of kids in the church to stain a white cloth until no white was discernable, and proceeding to use bleach to represent God's capacity to absolve us. Despite the fact that I'm highly allergic to bleach and chlorine, and the thought of God as parabolic bleach being slightly absurd, Grandpa's analogy stuck with me. No matter how mucky I get, and I can get dreadfully mucky, I always have the opportunity to recapitulate, and be clean in God's eyes. I really do despise substantial, abrupt changes, but change is what propels us forward and drives us to want more out of our lives. Donald Miller writes in the foreword to Through Painted Doors (I'm certain this is classified as some form of plagiarism, but I quite like this particular passage):

Here is something I found to be true: you don't start processing death until you turn thirty. I live in visions, for instance, and they are cast out some fifty years, and just now, just last year I realized my visions were cast too far, they were out beyond my life span. It frightened me to think of it, that I passed up an early marriage or children to write these silly books, that I bought the lie that the academic life had to be separate from relational experience, as though God only wanted us to learn cognitive ideas, as if the heart of a man were only created to resonate with movies. No, life cannot be understood flat on a page. It has to be lived; a person has to get out of his head, has to fall in love, has to memorize poems, has to jump off bridges into rivers, has to stand in an empty desert and whisper sonnets under his breath:

I'll tell you how the sun rose
A ribbon at a time...

It's a living book, this life; it folds out in a million settings, cast with a billion beautiful characters, and it is almost over for you. It doesn't matter how old you are; it is coming to a close quickly, and soon the credits will roll and all your friends will fold out of your funeral and drive back to their homes in cold and still and silence. And they will make a fire and pour some wine and think about how you once were... and feel a kind of sickness at the idea you never again will be.

So soon you will be in that part of the book where you are holding the bulk of the pages in your left hand, and only a thin wisp of the story in your right. You will know by the page count, not by the narrative, that the Author is wrapping things up. You begin to mourn its ending, and want to pace yourself slowly toward its closure, knowing the last lines will speak of something beautiful, of the end of something long and earned, and you hope the thing closes out like last breaths, like whispers about how much and who the characters have come to love, and how authentic the sentiments feel when they have earned a hundred pages of qualification.

And so my prayer is that your story will have involved some leaving and some coming home, some summer and some winter, some roses blooming out like children in a play. My hope is your story will be about changing, about getting something beautiful born inside of you, about learning to love a woman or a man, about learning to love a child, about moving yourself around water, around mountains, around friends, about learning to love others more than we love ourselves, about learning oneness as a way of understanding God. We get one story, you and I, and one story alone. God has established the elements, the setting and the climax and the resolution. It would be a crime not to venture out, wouldn't it?

It might be time for you to go. It might be time to change, to shine out.

I want to repeat one word for you:

Leave.

Roll the word around on your tongue for a bit. It is a beautiful word, isn't it? So strong and forceful, the way you have always wanted to be. And you will not be alone. You have never been alone. Don't worry. Everything will still be here when you get back. It is you who will have changed.

A great deal of the time, Donald Miller's writing encourages me to stay strong in my beliefs, and reminds me that I'm not alone in how I view God and the world. However, sometimes his writing convicts me that I do need to reevaluate some aspect of myself. I do enjoy gradual change immensely, and tracking the small steps that I've taken as a person is one of the most gratifying pastimes, but there are moments in life when I think it's necessary to just, as Miller puts it, leave. I don't especially want to suddenly drop some part of my life, but if that's what I feel God calling me to do, I need to be prepared for that. I didn't ever have any inclination to go to a new church, attend camp for the first time, make new friends at school, or share my heart with a stranger prior to actually doing these things, and yet they've all been hugely fulfilling. At some point, hopefully now, I have to acknowledge that while change is uncomfortable and unpredictable, it's healthy, natural, and necessary. Whether in the area of what I spend my time on, who I look to for wisdom, how I interact with others, what I turn to for contentment, and how I use my resources, I pray that I'll be in a perpetual state of metamorphosis and, hopefully, evolution as I attempt to live and love as Christ did. Perhaps I'll feel called to make a complete about face in some aspect of how I live out my faith, or maybe this "venturing out" that Donald Miller speaks of will simply translate into a constant appraisal and adjustment of my time here. I know that complacency can only damage any attempts to endure on this road towards transformation and engage in a phoenix-style of living. Not that shame for my current self would be at all healthy, but some critical consideration and open ears are definitely crucial. I suppose any proposed change causes me such trepidation purely because I fear that with change, I'll lose a part of the happiness I have, or the person I am today. The photos I included in the blog today illustrate this; when I took a picture of my shadow created by the dim street lights on campus at night, I could see the silhouette of myself. When I turned the flash on, I suppose metaphorically taking a truly good look at what lay before me, the old silhouette of myself disappeared, and clean slate lay before me. Though I love the place where I'm at right now, it would be reprehensible for me to stay in this place purely because it suits me and it's rather convenient.

Links from the Past Week

• Caitlin Jane's Photos
• Check Out #6
• Canadian Tunes
• Islands in the Sky
• Fire Eyed Boy
• Waiting to Die
• One More Day
• Voltage
• Kelly Watch the Stars
• Never Stop Working
• Sammy Sam
• Summerbirds in the Cellar
• Atlantis to Interzone
• Best Thing Ever
• I Got You On Tape
• Insomnia
• Heaven On the Ground
• You Only Live Once
• Moustache Video
• Vitesse
• Throw It
• Hand On High

Films Seen in the Past Week

• Nacho Libre
• Brokeback Mountain
• Chitty Chitty Bang Bang
• How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days
• Enough
• Bone Collector
• Return of the Pink Panther
• Bridges of Madison County

Bad Things in the Past Two Weeks

• Gazelda the eMac is in dire straights
• Philomena Guinea has died
• I was more sick than I've ever been in my life
• my family's impending abandonment of me is nearing
• the Eskies lost their first game against the Stamps
• I acknowledged that I will likely never drive a car
• Honduras fared not-so-well in the World Cup

Excellence in the Near Future

• Street Performers Festival
• Pirates of the Caribbean 2
• the house being all mine
• World Cup mania
• football wins
• Sunday dinner at Grandma's
• Dashboard Confessional (only slightly sarcastic inclusion)
• hair cut à la Cait

Books Being Read Currently

• Through Painted Deserts
• Emma
• Angels & Demons
• Skin Tight
• The Bell Jar
• Grendel
• Searching for God Knows What
• Mere Christianity
• Time Out New York
• Soul Survivor
• Adrian Mole: The Early Years
• Red Green Talks Cars