The Little Mermaid and Trust

Gun-o-cide

I know, says the RCMP, largely composed of officers from Ontario, probably Toronto, aka the center of the known universe ;) . Let's take something valuable, rare, collectible, beautiful - at the center of a time honored tradition. Let's take family heirlooms with memories and romance. Cherry wood or balsam fir or oak or handcrafted metal with engravings. Guns are weapons, and thus fundamentally evil, liable to shoot themselves or throw the unsuspecting innocent into a CSI like interrogation and drug bust just because the guns are THERE.

Then let's make the average Joe deathly afraid of owning one. God forbid he should even think about picking his own up or learning to use it well, or pass on responsible use to his kids. His wife has been nagging him about owning it (and various other trappings of manhood) for years. He'll be so afraid of it that he'll run to someone else, give it away so that it can be destroyed, and go home thinking he's done a good thing.

Millions of dollars of perfectly good guns thrown in a crusher (not even recycled). Antique, collectible, pretty guns. They weren't doing any harm sitting in your closet, locked in the cabinet where they should be, safety on and ammo stored in another location. (which is the law, after all) They were keeping the average burglar or random home invader a little more trepidatious. Now they're in a landfill. And the price of guns has just gone up a little bit more because supply has gone a little bit down.

Note that I haven't mentioned any farmers? Their rifles are happily sitting, escapees of the gun-o-cide, in the hall closet by the door, waiting for cougars, bears, or coyotes. Or moose or deer. Or, (cross your fingers) elk. Mmmm... elk steak. Albertan farms are the real gun amnesty.

I know... let's have a knife amnesty or a 2by4 amnesty... everyone can turn in those dangerous weapons as well. People shouldn't let their children be in a house made of (gasp) wood boards that could kill or kitchen knives that can stab. { More people are killed each year in Canada by knives or 2by4s than by guns. }

Just call me gun lovin. :) I don't even own one, and can't shoot or aim well at all. But I admire the skill it takes and the principle of the thing. And elk steaks. Or any kind of steak. And I appreciate the men in my life who will kill the magpie that wakes me up at 4AM all winter long, or the deer hit by the car who is suffering.

Clipping Toenails

Clipping Toenails. Possibly one of the least coveted tasks that a nurse could ever do. Only minorly below buttwiping during a Norwalk outbreak. Especially in the presence of warts or fungus of any type. Once you get past the age of 70 or so your toes rebel all those years of walking, they bend funny ways and the nails decide to disappear mysteriously or hide and make a walled fortress under a layer of white flaky dead skin. (K that's kinda gross, sorry for the graphics, I'm getting to the point.)

I had a lot of fun clipping toenails last night. yep. Fun. Not because I'm gross or somehow mentally challenged, although my sisters and brother might tell you otherwise. And it represents a revolution. Let me explain.

I'm reading a book called "Renovating the Heart" that paraphrases something that Jesus said really well. Jesus said, "He who loses his life for my sake will find it." "Renovating the Heart" puts it this way: Give up what you want to do and you'll get to do what you want to do. Huh????

Take me back even six months ago, and I would not have wanted to clip toenails. Especially not for free, and not on elderly toes, on my own time. I would have far preferred bubble baths, shopping, eating poutine, snugglin' with a boyfriend, about a million other things too. If I had done what I wanted to do, though, I'd have been ignoring something that I knew God was asking me to do. I'd have been snubbing my nose at GOD - the Almighty God, the all powerful, all seeing, perfect and holy and always loving God. That makes me a pretty big arrogant ass. ( I apologize if your net nanny has now disabled you from seeing my page. You should also note that I'm not talking like I don't struggle doing the exact same thing; even today I can think of three or four specific examples where I didn't do something God wanted me to. )

I love God more than I used to. By doing something that God wants me to do, because I love God and not because I figure it's something good to do, or because I feel guilty, or because it would be rude to tell my aunt, "No" I get to have a lot of fun - it was fun to talk with her, to have a concrete and clear way of expressing that I love her, to get to witness to God without saying God - even to tease her about not being a little more assertive with the nurses that visit her to check up on her. I had fun, and she didn't even fix me a drink. ;) It's not some kind of slavery, it's freedom to know that I can do things that I should do, that I'm asked to, and it's not the should-guilt-factor that motivates me, it's the joy and the love of Jesus.

Option A is have my own fun, my own decisions, my own future, my own life, my own family and relationships, MY life, MY ideas, MY MY MY. You ever notice how when you set out to make your perfect world happen you can never get it? Trade in my MYs and what I want for what God wants and who I am IN HIM, Option B; and I get to be really happy. When I want what God wants, he always makes the way for me to be the person to go out and get it, he makes it happen. So option A is to always want something that I'm powerless to get myself, versus Option B where I always get what I want, even the deepest wildest dreams I've got.

Give up what I want and I'll get what I want. That's so cool!

Hey Good Looking

twenty some years and we finally get one that works. Angels are singing somewhere.

Local Celebrity Gets A New Job

If my life were a paper, that would be the headline.
The day staff came to work the other day and looked at me and started straight into laughing hysterically. Turns out that the whole community decided to frame 'fire safety week' around my little hospital fire incident. Which means that they put MY bagel and the toaster on display at the fire hall... the display that all the school kids are marched in front of. But that's not all. Even though it's a proven fact that it was an electrical fire, there is now a radio ad published by the fire department that goes like this:
"This is a safety message brought to you by the fire department. Never leave a bagel unattended in a toaster." Note the specificity. Not "never leave a toaster unattended" but "Never leave a bagel unattended in a toaster."

You wouldn't think something like that could incite pride, but I was MAD and humiliated. No one knew that it was me, but I mean come on. Let it die already. Even though it is sort of funny.

And I get a new job... working for a community college in Alberta training new healthcare aides. I have a group of seven PCAs (or Nurses Aides, if you're oldschool) to tutor as they go through their program. It's great! I get to still work on the floor at the hospital, but the extra tutor hours bring me to fulltime or almost full time; plus I get to be involved in people's lives in a helpful and supporting way and hopefully be one of the good instructors that I liked, not the Nazi ones I didn't. I could sure use some prayers though... some of the students are old enough to be my parents and I'm not sure how they'll respond to a 'young upstart'... I hope that I have the chance to teach well, not just mediocre. (good thing I don't teach grammar)

Good Fear, Bad Fear

There is a verse in 1 John about perfect love driving out fear. I like how the message puts in from chapter 4:
"There is no room in love for fear. Well-formed love banishes fear. Since fear is crippling, a fearful life—fear of death, fear of judgment—is one not yet fully formed in love. "

I've been thinking about this verse more lately, I've needed it lately. For the past while, I have been challenged by situations (and even once by Dr. Phil) to ask myself, "What are you really afraid of? What is it that you tell yourself that makes you fear?"
I've feared my future - maybe it will be boring, full of something I don't want to do, not fulfilling, maybe I'll get God's will wrong.
I've feared in relationships - maybe they'll discover I'm not really worth it and send me packing, maybe they'll turn out to be lions in sheep's clothing, maybe I'm interpreting things wrong, what happens if I interpret God's will wrong and then end up with Plan B or Plan Z?
I've feared about money and about my career - what if other people find out that I really don't know all that my professional face appears to know, what if I make a big mistake, what if I lose my job and go for broke?

Two lies are the major ones that I tell myself that make me fear: I am not good enough, or God is not good enough. Either lie can lead me to think that someone else also won't be good to me.

Obvious lies, but so subtle in the way that I continue to believe them at times. I can be crippled from loving someone, from acting on love, because I fear. And the solution is Perfect Love.

When I love what I'm doing (spiritual discussions with my patients, or time bonding at youth group or with a friend, roasting a Cornish game hen) I'm not afraid that life will be boring; I'm exhilarated with what life IS. When I know the quality of love of the people that I am with, I am at peace and unrestrained in expressing love to them; it never enters my mind that I'm not worthy of them or that they would ever abandon or stop loving me. When I love a patient, I stop thinking about what's professional or policy in a situation; my focus shifts to making sure that they know it's gonna be OK. When I love people, it's no problem for me to give of my money or my time. The fact that I'm doing a good thing doesn't register, or doing it because it's a command, I just do it cuz I wanna.

I've started taking the anxiety in my life and analyzing it this way... what am I afraid of? Is what I'm afraid of real or true? Is what I'm doing out of love? Where is the love missing?

I think I have tasted perfect love; it makes me yearn for that place of complete peace and joy that I have when I'm at adoration or in prayer or getting ready for confession, when it's just God and me and no holds barred. It's an awfully easy yard stick for me romantically too - my way of looking at other people has changed; it's no longer "Can I have them? Should I have them? God, help me decide" but
"Is this the one I am set apart for since before the creation of the world? (Tobit - read it!!!) God, you love me and you will work this for me one way or another; you will show me as I need to see it"

I'd love your comments on this topic...

Don Ho and the Testicle Festival

Provocative subject line, eh? Haha I'm kind of sickly proud of myself for that one.

Tonight it snowed. A lot. And my aunt and uncle and cousins were out again to go camping but we spent the time inside reminiscing about old vacations and eating chinese food.

My Mom told us about her trip to Hawaii when she was 16. They saw Don Ho and went to a luau. Has ANYONE, ANYWHERE, EVER, heard about Don Ho? Really? My Mom still has her souvenir drink cup from the concert... she was drinking from it when the subject came up. The guy has an afro and he's part black, part Hawaiian native. Ah, the pictures of my Mother, with that 70s show hair and yellow tube top with a lei on. HAHAHA.

Which got us talking about Don Ho being like that guy in Vegas who does the shows. But no one could remember his name... it took twenty minutes and five phone calls to friends to figure it out. (We don't google things in the country.) "You know, the guy who's tall with the fake tan and the dark hair and flashy white teeth who uses all the brill cream? I think he owns horses too... he was on the Chevy Chase Vegas vacation movie..." "AHHH. What is his name???"

Little known fact about me... I've been to Vegas five times. With my family. It's our most popular family vacation destination. (Here comes the part where I justify it...) It's warm, cheap, clean, beautiful, full of theme parks and pretty sweet entertainment, lots of desert around if you want to get away for a bit, and it has lots of campgrounds to camp in too. Don't worry, we don't gamble away our shirts. Four times out of six we've come home richer than we started - don't know how that happened.

In case you're still wondering, it's Wayne Newton. The guy is Wayne Newton.

Yep, we're high class here. (As refined and as good solid nice polite as you can get, we own Don Ho cups to drink with. Oh, and three Testicle Festival cups that Grandma brought back from Utah once just because she thought they were funny. Somewhere in Utah, they have a Testicle Festival every year where they castrate their bulls all at the same time. ick.)

Another little known fact about me... I can castrate hogs. Oh yes, 18 years of living as a hog farmer's daughter has some obscure benefits. We used to mark them with a pink bingo marker for girls, blue for boys. Then we'd throw the blue marked ones (yes, like a baseball) across the barn where the other sister would catch the piglet (they were castrated at about two weeks, or five pounds) and put it in a grocery cart. When we had about five, we'd castrate them and cut their teeth off and their tails off. We had it down to a science - 30 seconds a hog, 5 hogs at a time, to do 80 hogs every two weeks. I assure you, this is all very necessary for their health and well being; and for the quality of the meat. Hmmm... I could have been a surgeon!!!

Gretchenville

It was the last weekend of the summer... and we were bored. And we realized that we missed the rodeo season. And in a semi-drunken moment my aunt said, "We can make our own rodeo right here (in our campground)!" It was a moment we would never look back from.
As any self-respecting Albertan knows, for a rodeo you need a bull. So we made one. A 'real' bucking bull made out of a barrel that is more difficult to ride than it looks. (I speak from experience.) My little cousins Kyle and Cameron (my boys :) ) made the rodeo. Cameron was the 'pannouncer' and Kyle was Dale Flower, bullrider extraordinaire (he also does all the other rodeo events).

And a rodeo needs a parade too, right? So we had one. With my brother's new car (the bum, he gets a version of my car only it has new car smell and was kept in a heated garage it's whole life and purrs like a sweet devil kitten), the horses, the quads, the car hood, and our Mayor (the aunt who came up with the idea). We named our little 'town' Gretchenville.

Lord, how I got suckered into wearing the 'medic costume' I'll never know. My little cousin (he's 7) Cam said, "But I have to wear a costume I don't like. It's not fair if you don't too." Frig, how do you say no to that? ( I fell asleep while I was supposed to be on 'medic duty' - night shifts and warm sun and the smell of horses and soft ground just all combine to be some weird magic potion.)

We had beer gardens too. Everyone now KNOWS (proof positive) that while I appear rational, really I am just nuts.

Comment on the horse... his name is Jimmy. He's actually a rodeo champion, won the stampede calf roping. His full name is Jim Beam Whiskey, but we call him Jimmy for the sake of the impressionable cousins, trying to be like the real cowboys they see in the rodeo movies. I love this horse. He goes like stink when you want him to. And while he's spirited and stubborn too, he can be sweet and gentle (once you wear him out a bit). He belongs to my uncle, and is Cam's horse (Cam my cousin, not me) but when my uncle's not here, between me and Jimmy, I think he's a wee bit mine too.

Pajamas With Feet (or, why they call me Sparky)

When I was a little girl, I was afraid of a few things, like most little girls. When I was in my room at night, I used to be afraid that the coyotes I could hear in the forest were coming to eat me. I used to be afraid that there would be a fire in my house, and that I wouldn't be able to get out in time - or that when I did get out I would get cold or lose my most valuable posessions (my blankie and my teddy and my Bible). I had a pair of yellow fuzzy pajamas with feet to protect me from getting my feet wet if I had to jump out my window because of fire (that way I'd stay warm and dry).
My Dad always used to tell me I was silly and that there would never be a fire. If there was, he would come for me and we would be safe. I used to do drills to see how fast I could take the screen out of the window.

On Saturday night, my little girl nightmares came true. All I wanted was a Tim Horton's twelve-grain bagel! So I stopped before work and got one to toast when I got hungry later. Every morning between four and five am on nights I get hungry, so I went to toast the bagel at 430 AM. I heard a patient's call bell ring, so I went to help her to the bathroom. The whole process of on-the-toilet-off-the-toilet, back-to-bed-and-tucked-in takes seven minutes. When I came back to get my bagel, I heard crackling. I thought to myself, "That is weird. Who is making popcorn at 430 in the morning?" But it was NOT popcorn.

The whole entire countertop and kitchen was one big wall of flame.

Wish I had a picture for effect.

I have never felt such a rush of "gotime" adrenaline as I did then. I went and pulled the alarm and ran to get my staff (who were on a coffee break, cleaning up the game of LIFE that we had just played - it's a little slow on nights at times). The security girl came and told us that we had to evacuate everyone - even though the fire was out from the sprinkler system, the smoke was really bad.

So here I go, being the charge nurse, (which apparently makes me 'fire warden') being in charge of coordinating the whole evacuation effort and responding to the fire department (which is all older in age and not at all as hot as you've been told), and still in charge of keeping all my patients alive. We (as in the nursing staff - the firefighters were occupied) were moving beds through water and smoke, trying to explain to patients with Alzheimer's that it's OK while they lie in bed, shaking all over because the fire bell scares them.

What a night! When it was all over, I sat in a chair reciting Psalm 41 and being thankful that a "Hail Mary" I sent up after the first evacuated patient was answered. My legs felt like jelly. I called Dad to pick me up - I held it together, professional and calm and cracking jokes until he pulled up and the car door was closed. Then I cried. I had been so scared! I didn't feel in control at all, at any point.

Looking back there are about a dozen things I would do differently. Course I'm not blaming myself that the wiring in the wall was faulty, or that I didn't react completely textbook when confronted with a fire. But I wish (if I could go back) I could do it better. But let me just say right now that I think I'm proud of myself. I learned a lot of positive things from this.

I don't mean to trivialize how hard this was for me by trying to be funny, or to minimize how stressful it was but I did get some perks and lessons from all this:

1. Nurses don't get paid enough. And being in charge deserves more than an extra $1.50 an hour.

2. S--- happens. Guaranteed. You can't always have your bagel and eat it too.

3. God always comes through. Always. And Mary is really good at praying for people.

4. It's amazing how communicative and professional you can appear to be when the wall is on fire.

5. Don't look to teenage siblings for compassion and support. They don't do a good job. (I quote "You don't even feel a little bit guilty? You almost burned the hospital down!")

6. I breathed in the equivalent of probably like two thousand cigarettes and let me tell you, Smoking kills. It's day three and I can finally talk again - laryngitis sucks.

7. We get a new kitchen. Including new coffee maker, toaster, fridge, ice machine, cupboards, and electrical wiring.

8. The people you work with can be really good to you - one day you're really gonna need them to pull through for you.

9. Pay attention when it's fire safety day. I wish I had been more on the ball. And fire is WAY more fun when you get to start it on purpose.

10. Ask God for more adventure and to "make work more challenging for me so that I don't get bored" (yes, direct prayer quote) and he answers in unexpected ways.

11. It's OK to drink before noon.

The funniest thing I've ever heard at work

Following is a conversation I had at work last night at 4:30 AM:

(ring, ring. Call bell. Room 132. So I walk to the room.)
Can I help you, Maria?
--Yes, I need a chinese name.
A Chinese name? What?
--I've never had a chinese name.
(At this point I explode into giggles.)
Maria, it's 4:30 AM. How about we call you Lily?
--Oh, that's nice dear.
Goodnight, Martha.
Goodnight!

I'm waiting for her to ask me what her Thai name is.

Mark 9

I've really been struggling a bit lately - under the weather spiritually and emotionally. I was feeling like the adventure has been sucked right out of my life.

After Leaderquest, where everyday was an adventure, where I was always in ministry, forcing myself to recognize God, getting into the Bible and really thinking about what it means and making its message a part of who I am and what I do; having an amazing family of believers who challenged me and mentored me and cared for me...
Sundre, Alberta. My family, who doesn't see who I am or what I do as anything special - I'm just the same old Camille, strange in my own way. This is what they might tell you about what is wrong with me...

For a job, my career aspirations include working with other nurses from students with stars in their eyes to people who see it as ministry to people who are bitter and burnt out; wiping dirty butts and having twenty-minute conversations at 2 am trying to communicate that "Yes, your hearing aid is working" when a confused resident swares that "No, it isn't. I can only hear you say, 'your hearing aid is working'." My passions are also strange - prolife education, youth in the church, becoming more and more Catholic and learning the old prayers and traditions.
I end up spending time with old friends that I really feel connected to, but who have lost contact with me or even stopped talking to me over the last five years; sometimes it ends in me feeling heartbroken and disconnected, but I try anyway.
And have you seen the car I drive? Why on earth don't I just forget doing overly responsible things like paying for student loans and starting an RRSP and go to the dealership tomorrow?
And scandal of all scandals - I'm not in a serious relationship yet? My sister, who constantly tells me that my worst mistake was not pursuing more guys and getting in a relationship, also told me the other night that I shouldn't even think about pursuing anyone 'from around here', after all they aren't 'your style'. When I asked her what my style was, she said, "Well, you go off and do these things like go to Nova Scotia and Mexico, and you want to go off on adventures to the North or to nurse as a missionary. No guys around here could take that. Besides, they're all looking for a more perfect 'girl' than you are."

HERE'S THE THING -- she's friggin right, they are all right in saying these things!!! I think sometimes that I really am missing out, that not having the prerequisites to be a full-fledged member of whatever group I don't really fit in - the couples, the girls with kids and families, the people who look and breathe 'cool' or 'hot' - that these things make me less of a person, that God dealt me a shitty hand of cards. Seems like my whole life I have been falling in love with people, finally believing that I can belong someplace, and God tells me to go to the next place or to try something completely different.

But I was reading in Mark 9 today, the passage about Jesus casting the demon out of the little boy. Great story, but it wasn't the miracle that caught my attention, it was what came afterward. Jesus could have done many more miracles, pumped up his reputation, brought huge massive event-glory to God; but instead he tried to get away that day. He tried to get away from the adventure and the image for something different, because he 'wanted to teach his disciples'. He was way more concerned with what was going on in the hearts and the minds of these misfit people that he had chosen to be his friends and his students and learners and legacy than he ever was in flexing his miracle muscles. Even though the disciples were usually confused and whiny or foolish, and probably wanted to keep going with the big flashy stuff (hmmm... like me) they were his first priority and the focus of his heart, and he wanted them to learn other stuff, like about his death and his rising.

I am so grateful to God that he can take my spoiled princess "Daddy I want a pony" attitude, and take me out of the adventure in these days because he wants to teach me as his disciple. Sure I don't fit into many a mold, but God cares about me there and is using my quirks. I love you, Jesus - that is so COOL. And Holy Spirit, you rock for filling me with joy in these days.

The nicest gesture...

My brother did the nicest thing for me the other day. After my fender bender debacle, I mentioned to him that if I could find another bumper, would he put one on for me in the future, and I'd pay him? He knew how glum I was over it looking so bad, especially headed to my high school reunion where my car was going to be my big entrance (and not a very great one, either); so when I was fast asleep after my night shift he found a bumper for the car and installed it for me. I know it's goofy, but it looks so much better and him caring about it and doing it for me all on his own makes me feel like I'm driving Cinderella's carriage, I feel so special. THANKS, Mitch!

My fender bender guardian angel

I think that maybe when my Opa died last fall, he left me one of his guardian angels - his fender bender guardian angel.

OK, so I've only had three fender benders (all extremely mild!!) in what - more than seven years of driving? I'd say that's not bad, pretty good if you know how bad people drive in Edmonton or in a farmtown.

All three of the times that I have hit someone it's been when I've been going slow, and I've always hit the nicest of the nicest of people. I also think that wearing the scrubs and having the ponytail-farm-girl look and having a pitiful car helps too. (which was the case in all three fender benders)

Anyways, I hit someone yesterday on the way to work. He stopped to turn left, but because he stopped dead and I had just turned onto the highway and was accelerating, I didn't see him. So long story short, I slammed on the brakes (I never follow too close, so I went from like 110 down to 30) and bumped him as he was turning the corner. My first thought was, "Thank God it's an old truck!" He was driving an 86 Mazda truck with a topper, and his bumper was solid. So was mine - it crumpled a little, but now it just matches the rest of the car. (Oh, it hurts me to be driving an ugly car everyday, and to hurt my beautiful Belle, but I have other priorities - like paying off student loans, etc.) He was a really nice guy - didn't ask for insurance or anything, and he was way more concerned about how I was doing than about how his truck had just suffered a punch. His name was Medford - he was such a nice guy, in his mid40s with his oily coveralls on, I just thought how lucky am I to hit the best person on the road possible? I could have hit someone with an attitude or a Jag (like the second time in seven years). He kept saying "Are you sure you're OK? Man, I feel bad, your car is in worse shape than mine." To which I replied, "It's one of the reasons I keep driving this car. Don't worry about it." "Well, it was nice to meet you..."

And, to top off the "Thank God" fest and string that I was on yesterday, my brother is going to put on a new bumper from the old Oldsmobile; Medford is going to buy a new bumper and I'll pay him for it so that I feel better about smashing his in, and I still made it to work on time.

thought digress - I always find it strange, but I can never sware when I'm in a crisis. It just doesn't come out. My thoughts are more like, "Oh, well. At least..." or "OK, time to deal with this." (the four letter word - one is all it takes for me to feel better - usually doesn't come until the end of the day when I've got nothing better to do than vent) After work in the parking lot I looked at my new bumper style, laughed, let it out, got back in the car, and went grocery shopping.

A few of my favorite smells

Tonight I was unloading groceries into the house and I had to stop - I stopped dead - and gasped. There was the most delicious, seductive, beautiful smell I have ever smelled - it was like cinnamon and sweet nutmeg and warm milk and cayenne pepper all rolled up into one. But there was no one around. So I put down the groceries and went on a smelling hunt to find out what on earth that could be??? (Picture me in my scrubs with my hair all in my face walking slowly around the yard occasionally stopping or ducking down close to the ground to smell something - good thing I live in the country sometimes, I think).

Finally, I found it! There was a patch of stinging nettles (to all people in shorts the most vile plant around) but it had been crushed by the rain and the hail a few days before, and parts of it were dying. It was soooo good smelling. I loved it! So I added a new favorite smells to my favorite smells list.

And then I thought about all my other favorite smells, and thought it would be fun to blog them all. Weigh in on yours so I can be entertained on my stretch of nights coming up.

I love the smell of: (in no particular order)
Saltwater
the faint smell of chlorine (like when you just step into a pool foyer)
rotting leaves
fresh cut grass
construction sites (oh, the glory of gravel and concrete and dust and lumber)
nutmeg, cinnamon, allspice
coffee, cake baking, or best of all some coffee cake baking
Head and Shoulders
vanilla
the smell of gasoline that stays on your hands after you gas up (but after five minutes I've had too much and think I smell butch)
mud in the spring
sunscreen (the kind with coconut and palm oil in it - has to smell like beach)
bacon and hashbrowns in the morning
church incense, or old vestments and altar cloths
clothes that dried on the line outside

Yeee -- Haw!

Rye whiskey, rye whiskey... picture about a thousand Albertan rednecks (in jeans and boots or skirts depending) swaying in time to some of the best music ever written. I can just not get enough of Corb Lund these days. It was made all the better by all the Saskatchewan bashing that went on. ;) You need to hear some of his music.
AND - drumroll - I got to see my favorite cowboys of ALL TIME ride bulls. I was so excited. Mike Lee, Matt Austin, and Adriano Moraes all rode on the day that I went. Matt Austin got a raw deal and two rerides, which bites, but I did get to see him ride that bull like butter anyways.
I was so tired when we were done that I wasn't making sense. I was mixing words up and my brother and sister were laughing at me, but after a good 36 hours without sleep coming off of a couple of night shifts I was wiped.

A Long Canoe Trip (and some lame jokes)

I went on a 42 km. canoe trip this weekend. The water was warm, and we spent time splashing each other and making jokes and singing old country songs on the guitar and watching for birds (we saw hawks and eagles and kingfishers and some cranes, maybe a pelican but it was far away).

I only wish I hadn't been so sore when I got off the water. I felt like my arms were going to melt away. Here are some of the jokes that kept me entertained (just to keep you entertained):

What do you call a man with no arms and no legs...

hanging on a wall? (Art.)
on the front doorstep? (Matt.)
in a pile of leaves? (Russel.)
in the ocean? (Bob.)

What do you call a girl with one leg?
(Eileen)
What do you call a chinese girl with one leg?
(Irene) (please don't kill me, Jess)

The Reception and Dance (and end of the wedding)

This is a picture of my date for the reception, my escort and cousin, Jason. I am so glad that I ended up with Jay. We had so much FUN. There should be more people in the world who are 19 going on 20 and that much fun to be around, and so considerate and joyful too. I am going to get in trouble when Chelsea reads this because she doesn't know what I did to keep myself occupied during the reception. For centerpiece snacks she had pear flavored Jelly-Belly's. We started throwing them at people we knew would be goodnatured among the guests. I have bad aim I discovered.... bad bad aim. I hit someone's drink and an old woman and my cousin's new boyfriend before progressing to throwing grapes torn off the centerpieces, which were plastic grapes in jars. That was better, and they flew farther. I was discreet though, and I am sure that people thought there were weird green flying bugs. Jay and I were careful. During the reception and the usual speeches, which were emotional and made me cry when they made Chel cry (I'm fine til someone I love starts up, then I fall apart), we started to hear feedback. It sounded like the chipmunks or three female aliens had landed and were singing back up in highpitched voices to whoever was talking/singing. I could watch Jason pinching and hitting himself under the table to keep from laughing. When he started making large jellybean faces on the tablecloth with jellybellies to try to distract himself and then shoving entire eyes or ears from the face into his mouth to keep from grinning and giggling, I lost it too. We were hitting each other under the table and laughing and snickering (thank God we were at the end of the head table far from the mike). I only feel mildly guilty...

Jay also made a video of himself as Napoleon Dynamite, describing how Chel and Robby met (he could win an Oscar with his acting - seriously!!).

Wedding dances are second only to weddings. The Chicken Dance, line dances, the macarena, two-stepping, they are so much fun! Chel had a dry wedding, which gave it a really different character, but we still had a lot of fun regardless. (My Mom was a little let down, and I have to admit I could have used a drink or two too.) Here are some good pictures - the beautiful bride and handsome groom, a picture of Chels with Robby's groomsman William, my sis Robyn and cousins Emily and Abby dancing. A picture of us doing the chicken dance ( I got the bride's arm).

The Wedding (Part 3)

I love weddings now. Used to think they were nice ideas, sentimental and sweet, but now I think they are BEAUTIFUL. Chelsea and Robby's wedding was wonderful. I saw this nonchalant, too-cool-for-school man get emotional about my Chelsea and I found myself grinning like a fool being happy for the two of them. I really like Robby, and what can I say, he got himself caught by one of the best of women. I stood next to my sister and Brenna and listened to Brenna hold back the tears and watched Chelsea and Robby tease each other in delicate little ways all through the ceremony (Robby put the cutest emphasis on "Wear it" when talking about the rings, he made it sound like a command). The pastor talked about how people are like cars and when you commit to your one car for life, you shouldn't go around riding in other people's cars, you should first take care of your own and stay dedicated to it. Not sure I really like the analogy, but it was good for a smile. It took us four hours to get ready and to calm Chelsea and ourselves down and keep Robby in the dark about Chelsea's whereabouts. He cried when he saw her, and I can understand why. She was beautiful!

After the wedding, it was honk time. A wedding is not a wedding without decorated vehicles, plastic pompoms and a little hellraising with fireworks and driving through town disturbing a little peace while being way dressed up. The picture is of my sister Jen in the center, Chel's friend Brenna and I. It's not very flattering to any of us, but I think it's a lot of fun and shows the kind of mood we were in - we were so happy that they were happy. It sounds cliche and scripted, but I was just elated that two people I loved now got to love each other and were committed to each other. And another cool thing was that they had been building up to this for years - saving each other from heartbreak and saving themselves physically for the marriage.

The Wedding Rehearsal (wedding part 2)

Before the rehearsal, we managed to sneak seven girls into the hotel honeymoon suite. Which, although clearly was big enough to sleep seven, was only firecoded for four. We had an anal hotel clerk who was quite suspicious of us, so we snuck in through the back door and came in and out in shifts. Stole a rose out of the fake bouquet above the fireplace just because we could (that was all Brenna). It had a phenomenally large shower and jacuzzi and a hideaway bed and a big ol' supersoft kingsize bed. The closet was big enough to use as a changeroom, which I did just because I could.

The rehearsal was long (took ten minutes just to figure out who was going to stand where), but a blast anyhow. Halfway through waiting for the pastor (Filipino and a pastor = always late), a huge thunderstorm with dregs of hail and pouring rain happened - I thought it was a great omen. All the romance in bollywood films happens in the rain or snow, and they even got a rainbow! Best wedding rehearsal idea ever is pizza and a lot of fun and laughter, with a prayer session at the end --- encouraging us to pray for them and for their marriage, and giving us a chance to pray as a wedding party.

Back at the hotel, we did manicures and all shaved legs together in the jacuzzi and ate desserts from BPs, and did makeup trials (thus the picture of me where I'm laughing because it's on so thick - good thing for practice rounds). I hung out with Robby's sister Jamie and my cuz Steph and the rest of the girls ( I never realized how funny and great to be around Steph and Jamie were). The other cousins Julia and Bonnie came by (Julia brought her boyfriend... duh... although I think it might have been planned, and he just wanted to be in a honeymoon suite with ten girls in swimsuits - jj Julia or Craig if you read this)

The last words we heard before falling asleep (that I have witnesses who will testify that I predicted at 2 in the afternoon) was , "Guys! I'm getting married tomorrow!"
We woke up at 6 AM (even though we didn't need to get up til 7) to giggling. (I was waiting to get up because I was sleeping on the hideaway and my head kept sinking into the gap between couch and mattress.) Jen and Steph and Chel slept in the big bed, and Chel woke us up giggling because Steph was violently thrashing in bed all night. (All of us girls in the family move around when we're sleeping - not violently, but we all are most comfortable switching positions every now and then - and we don't steal covers, in our defense) Chel's first words of the day: "Guys, I'm getting married today!"

Fun with the girls (wedding part 1)

The night before a wedding, some wedding parties go out for a wild night of drinking and male dancers and last regrets before tying the knot. But not this wedding party. After the rehearsal (more on the rehearsal later) we got into the car and did some low-key yet highly embarassing stunts about the small town. We made Chel yell out the window at innocent bystanders "I'm getting married TOMORROW!" which was better than you'd think because of how hard it was for her to do. Some strange looks, some thumbs up. Six girls in a little white car, driving around and stopping at intersections so the bride-to-be could do Chinese fire drills. Chel even had herself and Robby matching caps with Bride and Groom embroidered on the top. In the picture, driving is my sister Jen, passenger cousin Steph, and Chel and I are in the back.