Oracle, prophetess, orphan

I’ve been requested to put more of MY life in the blog. Hey, I take requests. So here’s a big chunk that most of the people I know read this site have already heard, but I’m allowed to cheat if I want to. :)

You who know me know I have next to no maternal instinct. Not for children, anyway. For animals, for my friends, sure, lots. But I’ve never been into babies, never craved children of my own. Heck, I didn’t even like dolls growing up. I went for the stuffed animals and My Little Ponies. I’ve pretty much been an animal girl my whole life. Which does not preclude me from making a really great “aunt” to my friends’ kids, mind you. I’d love to be a real aunt, but Steph is of the same mind as me re: kids, so that’s not going to happen. Mom long ago resigned herself to this (mostly); sweatshirts of “I have a grand-dog/cat” are appropriate attire for her.

Anyway, the only way I’ve ever honestly considered having children is through adoption. However, what I really wanted to do is go volunteer at an orphanage or two and work with the kids there, getting to know them until I found a child who was perfectly suited to me and vice versa. (Also, I read way too much L. M. Montgomery as a kid). Given that orphanages don’t really exist anymore…this plan seemed unlikely.

Now, come back with me to Wednesday night. I was researching this catalog of children put out by the Michigan Adoption Resource Exchange for a story idea. I find the idea of an “available children” catalog that you can pick up at your local library odd, and had visions of a weird consumerist society of the future with children for sale on Ebay and such like that. I was perusing the listings, seeing how they described the kids, how it was presented, things like that. And, out of nowhere, I found a girl I want to adopt.

Believe me, no one is more surprised by this than I am.

Her name is Casandra . Go. Meet her. Watch her video.

I sent around emails to several friends, linking them to her. I said that I know this is a ludicrous idea, that there’s no way I could do this, but that I could pray for her and asked them to do the same. I ask you the same thing, if you weren’t a part of that original email (and, you know, you pray, which I know some of you don’t :) ).

And a funny thing has been happening since then. Every single person who has responded, rather than mocking me for this or breathing huge sighs of relief that I am not actually going to do this—which, frankly, is what I expected—has instead said in one way or another that I should stay open to the idea of actually doing this. I’ve gotten links to adoption assistance, encouragement that I could “mom with the best of them,” happiness about a possible grandchild, etc.

I guess what I’m asking from you is for prayer not only for Casandra—that she finds a loving home and is encouraged by people who understand her—but for me as well to be open to doing this if I should, for a GIANT, obvious, unmisinterpretable, blinking, neon sign, and for contentment if not pursuing this is the right decision.

I was going to put a lot more in here about how I can picture taking her to the farmer's market, giving her $10 and letting her pick out whatever she wants, or what her room looks like, or what chores she would get and how I would deal with fights and enrolling her in a charter school, etc., etc., but this is long enough.

There, Tailyn. News from my life. :)

Milestone

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Just a quick post to note that, according to my little counter thingie, I have now officially been viewed over 1000 times!!!!

Even if it was the same five or six people over and over again (and my own posting), I don't care. Thanks, you guys!!

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More "Emails with Adam!"

My friend Adam--he's a card and a brick. Here's more proof!

In which my absence ruins a trip:

Thank you for your sympathy about the Stratford trip. Yes indeed, if you had been there of course the plays would have been better. You know for next time.

Sadly, I don't believe there's been a next time for me since then...and that was in 2002 or thereabouts. I miss Stratford. :(

In which he explains the facts of poverty to me:

In answer to your question about how I financed the last out east trip. 1. I am now broke. 2. I slept in my van most of the time and ate 'things from home'.


A series of interesting closes to emails:

Write back & let me know if you'll be in town.

Seriously,

Adam

P.S. Oh, and I didn't call your house and hang up. It sounds like something Bill Kerr might do though.

*

Good to hear from you.

I have not picked up smoking or anything else.

Adam

*

I hope you're doing well and I'll talk to you soon. Kasey, I will.


In which Adam writes one of the worst travel advertisements ever:

Thank you for your well wishes regarding my trip to the wilds of S. India. It was indeed wild, it involved being locked in a train bathroom, being borderline assaulted by eunuchs (3 times), being sunburnt beneath my level 40 sunblock in the Bay of Bengal, and visiting an oprhanage full of the nicest little kids I ever met but will not adopt.

Are you involved in the Willow this year? I already asked you that didn't I. I apologize, it is the heat, it is 104 here today.


Regarding an inundation of advertisements from eHarmony:

I hear your in-box is full of Christian singles. I'm sorry to hear that, at least they are Christians. If you do decide to utilze a Christian dating service, I would suggest that you bring at least one friend along with you. In fact, if you utilize a dating service, I will come along.

This is unlikely to ever be necessary (I am constitutionally unsuitable for e-dating), but I appreciate the thought. If I had remembered this when Mom was meeting Don though, I would certainly have passed the offer along.


In which Adam shows perspective is key:

Katherine,

Did you know that there is a Shakespearean character named after you. Several of them! It doesn't matter much though because neither of us will be going to Stratford this year, because I and I believe you, are the dirt poor.

I thought I'd start off with something dismal, and let the letter progress upwards.
_____________________________________________________

And now, just to balance things out a little bit, I offer you one of the many moments in which Adam is not funny, but rather deeply wise and encouraging. I value these moment just as much, if not more:

Emotional memory comes in waves. There are stretches where you don't think about it twice, and then stretches of time when you think about it quite vividly. Knowing that there is some pattern to it, helped me prepare myself against despair.

My friend Adam, ladies and gentlemen!

Thing one and thing two

Yesterday I got two very exciting bits of news very nearly simultaneously. I share them with you now.

First, I got a letter in the mail, which I include below [click on the picture to be able to read the letter]. I have to say, I keep thinking it's not real. In fact, the realest moment of belief I had was when I first opened it, so I fear my sister got my truest reaction (on her voice mail).


Holy crap! I'm a real writer! People who have no idea who I am chose MY story!!!!

Then I called my mom to tell her about it and got the other big news of the day: She and Don are officially engaged!!! I don't have a picture of the ring or the moment, but this is a shot of the two of them on their first date (taken by my sister, who went on the date with them. Heh). Aren't they cute?




All in all, a pretty exciting afternoon, wouldn't you say? *grin*

Here comes the sun (doouhndoodoo)

I love the sun. I burn like a mad thing, but I LOVE the sun. Don't get me wrong; I love the rain, too. I'm a rain child over here, the classic puddle-jumper, rain-wanderer.

But still, I love sunlight.

This morning I woke up at Apple's. No one else was awake yet, so I had the morning to myself. I swept aside the curtains and lifted the shades and there he was--the sun. That thin, cool morning light flung through the window. A bunny was in the yard next door, chilling in the dew-covered grass, enjoying the early morning rays. And I couldn't help it (not that I tried very hard): I collapsed to the floor, falling into a modified lotus position, turned my face up into the light, and proceeded to do some hardcore basking.

*purr*

Then Apple came out and, all squinty and sick, and grunted, "Ahhh...who let the sun in?" Heh. My sister, the mole, would agree with her.

So now I go to the rest of my day meeting friends (Tailyn! Jeremy! New Julia! JODY!) with my solar panels fully charged and my spirit able to breathe once more.

Thanks, God, for creating the sun and sharing it with all we earth-bound.


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Old thoughts for new

My brilliant cousin, Jennifer, has started a blog based on a pile of notebooks and papers she found with scraps of previous writing she’s done. You should read it when you have a chance because, truly, she’s brill.

It also gave me an idea for something I can begin to do on my own blog in my never-ending attempt to make things more interesting for you, my loyal reader. I have a million old journals and papers and things like that from which to pull, though, have no fear, I will be selective.

For a first run, I was trying to find an email I sent to someone explaining why it is I love the Olympics so much, how they are so much more than a sporting event, etc. Said email was never tracked down, which is likely to mean it was a phone conversation or a figment of my imagination. Either way, if I want to post my paean to the Olympics, I’ll have to come up with it from scratch, and I shan’t be doing that now.

However, during my search, I did find rather a lot of emails from which I can cull interesting things. One series of said interesting emails was to and from my friend Adam (alternately known as “manly man of the red earth,” “Edmond,” and “that guy we used to know who’s never here anymore.”) A few years back, I moved to Iowa and he traveled to India. Both far from home, we wrote to each other, and the correspondence was sprightly and varied. Some were more consequential than others. I include here tidbits from the inconsequential with editorial comments as needed.

“Kasey C.

Hello!

I'm so sorry to hear that you cold-cocked yourself with a pole. That had me laughing for a little while, but I'm sorry if it hurt.”

I have only the vaguest memory of this happening and I really wish I knew more because it sounds hysterical. I’m not entirely sure how I would have accomplished such a thing, but it does sound rather like me. Actually, wait, it sounds more like Jen.

Re: my request for a fancy peacock of my very own:
“P.S I cannot bring you back a peacock, they are too large. I think I can fit a crow in my carry-on though. They are plentiful here.”

He lies. He brought me no such crow. I’m still waiting.

In which he informs me of a little-known custom:
“I was thinking again about your relocation choices, and I think it is a possiblity that you will move back to GR. The reason being, is that you did not throw a valued item in the Grand River when you left. Or did you? Are you aware of that custom? If you throw something you highly value into the Grand River when you leave, it means you won't come back. If you don't the curse is still on you and you will come back.

But I'd say, come on back to GR. . . . I have a newfound admiration for it. It sounds so clean when I think of it now. Your gypsy side can take road trips. There was a real live gypsy sitting next to me here in the internet place. She asked me about an english word and her gypsy boyfriend got mad.

I'm glad that you weren't aware of the grand river myth, you might have made a lifelong mistake.”

On John and Heidi’s then-forthcoming nuptials:
“I assume you'll be at the upcoming wedding. I wouldn't want you to miss the crystal glass/oral interp piece that I've worked on. I don't want to give it away but it involves a monologue from The Yellow Wallpaper and some dry ice.”
I am EXTREMELY sorry to say I was apparently out of the room for this piece’s performance. I am in hopes it will one day be recreated.

On the joys of jury duty:
“It is getting late, and I have been randomly selected for jury duty tomorrow morn. So I should probably sleep for that. I don't know what will happen but I have memorized several lines from 12 Angry Men that I plan on using at some point.

Talk to you soon,

Adam

'I'll just run this up the flagpole and see who salutes it'

..that's one of the lines.”

Next week on blogtalk: Kastie version-- More email fun! Or journal fun! Whichever strikes my fancy!

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Kindred spirits

Wandering by one of the blogs I visit on an infrequent basis -- A Dress A Day -- I found the following quote about George Eliot:

September, 1856, when she was thirty-seven years old, marked the beginning of her effort to become a writer of fiction. She had always desired to write a novel, but she believed herself "deficient in dramatic power both of construction and dialogue," although feeling that she would be at ease "in the descriptive parts of a novel."

I am familiar with this entire outlook on writing; it is, in fact, precisely my outlook. It gives me hope that George Eliot felt the same way once upon a time.



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Yeep.

I have just done something that I'm already sure I'll regret: I have made this blog visible to search engines. Yikes. Now, for most people, I'm sure that's no big deal. But see, I have these things called trust issues and privacy fears? Yeah. Those. In spades. SPADES, I tell you!

So this is by way of an experiment. It's actually inspired by a blog my friend Tonya sent me earlier...if you mention "them," "they" will come. Authors, that is. I don't know if I want that to actually happen, mind you, but, there it is.

This may not last long.