Life

A Bend in the Road

Bend, OR

We left this morning. After a string of goodbyes, breakfast, and tire pressure checking, we hit the road. I don’t mean to get dorky here, but it reminded me of leaving Rivendell. You know, Lord of the Rings style.

So we got a cheap room in Bend, OR, which isn’t exactly half way, but that’s okay. After the last few days, it’s far enough.

But Bend was at the end, and it’s not what I want to write about. What happened on the beginning of our journey today is what’s worth noting.

Megan’s parents generously gave us a Garmin GPS for Christmas. Like any new toy, we fooled around with the settings until it became unique to us.

A few years back, after buying the Prius, I changed the display screen to French. I don’t speak French or anything, it’s just how I get my kicks. Don’t judge me.

So Megan turned the red car on the GPS screen into an awesome looking eagle… or hawk. I’m not quite sure. You can’t really see the beak. At first, I couldn’t stop staring at this bird. Every time the car moved, the bird flapped its wings. As the driver, this was bad news.

Eventually I took my eyes off of the eagle and back on the road. As I admired the significance of the bird’s wings in concordance to the distance we were rapidly gaining from home, I was filled with wonder.

(Hesitant to make another Tolken reference, I will remove a metaphor to the eagle scene from The Hobbit.)

Each mile we drove, or flapped rather, we traveled further from home. It soon became apparent that we were on our own. Hitting the road. Just the two of us. Finally.

The adventure has begun.

So we drove. And drove. The GPS bird tirelessly flapped its wings. The Prius, a little heavier than it’s used to, carried us along and groaned at the hills.

In Bend, OR, we stay the night and get up early for the final leg of our drive. It’s a drive we’ve made many times before, though only to turn around too soon and head home. Now we have six months to spend. Maybe more.

Our home isn’t Coeur d’Alene, Idaho anymore, but it isn’t San Luis Obispo either. Our home is each other. That’s where we belong.

And of course, on the wings of a God who loves us.

Saying Goodbyes, Lessons of Moving

picstitch

Laying awake last night, my wife slept and my mind raced with questions: Should we really leave? Is it the right decision? Can we really fit everything in the Prius? Can the Seahawks beat the Redskins? … there may have been one or two rabbit trails.

It’s been close to four years since I left California for Idaho; an easy decision at the time. Now, I can’t imagine why I would ever leave Idaho… the Northwest.

It’s beautiful. There’s snow. The people are as genuine as it gets. There’s coffee on every street corner.

I absolutely love the comfort of life up here. Still, I know I’m near to leave. This time, I suckered a pretty lady into coming with me. Well we’re married so she has to come.

So we’re saying our goodbyes. My work friends, her family, our church amigos, the turkeys on the street, we will not see them for a little while.

I wanted to write an in-depth reflection of my time here, but that sounds boring. Instead, I think I’ll just give a little advice:

Live Like It’s Your Last Week In Town: Tell those you love that you love them. Hang out with the people most important to you. It’s foolish to wait, as I have, to thank everyone for their kindness and grace. Enjoy the present.

Throw Away Your Stuff: We have been getting rid of things I never knew existed, and yet for some reason have been packing around for years. It’s great to get sentimental over things that matter, but a pile of burned CDs from high school just needs to go away.

Go On An Adventure: I’m a big fan of these. It doesn’t have to be a life changing-geographical move, but grab someone you love and take them somewhere new, somewhere challenging. Phones, internet, TV… they are all promoting a lie that the world is a small place. It’s not, in fact it’s huge. Go out and see for your self.

Hey north Idaho, thanks for everything.

Last Day of Work: Unemployment Eve

photoIt’s scary to leave a job. Even if you hate the job, it’s still scary. There’s the one or two days of “freedom.” You call your friends, maybe text, “hey, I’m free!” Then, after the smug clears, you realize there is no source of income. And all those people you complained about everyday, well you miss them.

I didn’t hate my job. I actually quite liked it. There were times where I did hate it, but that’s inevitable. Every job has its ups and downs; the real trick is to be able to see them through and laugh with your boss the next day.

Today is my last shift of a three year stint at Pilgrim’s Market in Coeur d’Alene, ID. My wife and I are moving to San Luis Obispo, CA on the first of the year for an internship.

Pilgrims is an entry level job. The second I announced my leaving, plans were made to replace me, and like that, I was replaced. Life goes on. Sometimes we like to pretend that our legacy is bigger than that. I don’t know. It’s a produce job.

I’d like to pretend I’m leaving behind some sort of void. I guess I’m narcissistic that way.

The other day, I overheard a new hire and the manager talking about what shifts she would take. “Well, after Kevin’s gone, Wednesday and Thursday will open”…

This must be how grandparents feel on their deathbed: lousy relatives rummaging through their things, claiming knick knacks before they’ve even seen the light.

“I can still hear you” I yelled.

It’s good to quit a job every now and then. It’ll test you, force you to do bigger and better things. We’ve done everything right: planned it, saved money, lined up future jobs, graduated schools…

It still seems shaky at best. It may just be that after all these years of entry level jobs, I’ve convinced myself that it’s where I belong. That maybe, I can’t do much better. I remember having the same nervousness the day I graduated high school. I forgot my sunscreen that day.

Here’s to three happy years at Pilgrim’s Market. A great job with incredible people. A place where I learned patience, kindness, and the difference between a turnip and a rutabaga. I will truly miss it.

Communication Not Required

“Let me tell you something about management Kevin,” she takes a breath, “you can tell people, write it down, scream at them all you want…” she then makes the in one ear out the other pantomime.

“It’s like pounding your fist against a wall,” she again makes a gesture and finally adds, “they just wont do it!”

This came as a response to a suggestion I gave her about her staff; we work together and I noticed a couple problems worth mentioning.

“That sucks.” I add.

“Later,” she walks away as I remember a previous conversation about her college experience.

She’s a communications major.

I’m not sure what I’m suppose to take away from this. Maybe just that, more often than not, your boss is probably cluess. So give them a break once in a while. It’s like finding your dad on the kitchen floor, drunk and asleep with a cigerette in his mouth.

I guess dad isn’t Superman. Kick his leg and let it go.

Since it’s Finals week, I thought I’d reblog some of my favorites. Here is one from a little while back. It was a special time.

Kevin Carver's avatarThe Number Kevin

I went fly fishing today, my first time—accomplished fly fishermen are potentially already laughing. In my defense, I’m currently taking a Summer course at the college. I’ve been practicing.

We cast on the soccer field, people walk by and snicker. It’s mildly humiliating.

So I finally ventured out today on my own with a tackle-box full of brand-new flies, tippets and leader lines. I caught so much stuff!

First, I caught my hat. Then after catching the bushes behind me a few times, I lost my fly in the water. After replacing the fly, I caught the tree above my head and lost yet another fly.

After twenty minutes of this business, a fisherman trolled by and asked how I was doing. I tried to play it off fancy, but my reel popped off the rod and dropped in the water (still don’t know how this happened). Red in the face…

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Little Wins

I’m working in the produce department and this lady comes up to me. She gives me the I’m potentially angry eyes.

“Can I buy just two leaves of cilantro?” she says, “That’s all I need.”

I’ve had this dilemma before. I’m making something that only needs a little bit of fresh cilantro. Unfortunately, fresh cilantro is sold in bunches. No body wants to get stuck with buckets of cilantro. It grows like delicious wild-fire. The farmers get rid of it so the distributor can get rid of it, and inevitably gets to the store, where, well, we sell it in bunches so we don’t get stuck with it. The 99% gets screwed once again.

“I’m sorry,” I said, “It only comes in bunches.”

“But I wont use it all.”

“Yeah…”

“I still have to buy a whole bunch?”

“Yeah…”

Her eyes change from potentially angry to positively angry. She walks away. At this point, I’m thinking I could just give her two leaves of cilantro. We throw them away all the time. There’s probably 10 loose leaves in the box.

As I’m about to, she grabs a bunch of cilantro and sticks it in her cart. She turns my way and I pretend I wasn’t watching and start wiping off a clean counter. On the inside though, I smile.

It’s these little wins that remind me I should probably be doing something else with my life.

[This post was inspired by a co-worker, he writes a very funny blog about life, work, and people he runs in to. Check out Wild Magik 2 here]