re-visions: nexus

sometimes i'm six

2008-08-19T17:49:00.001-10:00

I'm so excited. Work and workout are done for the day - the kids' first major writing project, the Big Bad Personal Narrative, is underway, and I kicked up my swim to 22 laps for 1100 meters - and S and I are getting ready to go shopping for a new fish and then have dinner at Greek Corner. (Really, the smallest things get me going sometimes.)

Fish backstory: In the summer I brought Chocofish Brings The Deer, ex-class pet of my c/o 2008, home to retire in peace, love and daily feedings. Well, maybe not the love. Since he is an aggressive fish, we kept him in his own tank until S. decided that we might as well, for some reason, throw him back in with the others. Two mornings later we woke up to find one of the tankmates had thrown himself out onto the carpet (can you imagine Callie's surprise at this blessing from above? She was just sitting there when it began raining fish.) In addition, the two blackskirts' undersides were all nibbled up. S. was so pissed off at CBTD that I think he would have flushed him down the toilet if I had not whisked him away and put him back in his isolation tank.

I can't let that fish go. He was the class mascot, the kids' pet, their hardy friend. He spent a lot of hungry weekends in the dark, only to be shocked into fluorescent Monday mornings, kids' noses pressed against the plastic walls of his habitat. He survived the Eclipse light (we found him one Sunday, eyes bulging, just about poached in his own water). He never complained when we switched his food from flakes to pellets to back again. He survived the Great Overfeeding. He went through a lot, and despite his bad community tank behavior, I think he deserves an honorable discharge.

Anyway, now there are only four fish left in the 20G. The two beat-up skirts, a long indestructible fellow we affectionately dubbed "The Whale," and a really pretty cichlid that nobody picks on but that in turn keeps to himself. So, we're going to pick out "something electric yellow!" (<-- Scott's enthusiasm) that will hopefully keep its fins to itself. Ironically, earlier today I got a community memo offering bunnies to the staff. Memo: "Anyone want a bunny?" Me: "For a class pet, or to take home and eat?" Memo: "Yours forever." Me: "One second thought, no thanks." Off to get us some hummus!

there's something about marriage

2008-08-17T00:26:00.009-10:00

I've made a puzzling observation. There's something about weddings - something special in the air. Or maybe it's the cake. Or something mixed into my lava flow, or his Heineken, or sprinkled among the sesame seeds dotting the lavosh. Something swirling in the bread pudding. Something in all those Sinatra songs. Some subliminal message hidden in the Cupid Shuffle. Something about weddings puts my hunny and me - big time - in the mood.

To fight.

We've fought at the last three we've attended: one in May, one last week, and one tonight. They're not major fights, but since we rarely even argue, it's curious that we should push each others' buttons amid the joyous atmosphere of a wedding.

My Wedding Cocktail of choice used to be a Greyhound, till I was told I drank like a 40-year-old divorcee. Not fair! I really love lemon drops, but I suck at carrying a martini glass around a crowded room without spilling. Anyway, I discovered that sweet blended drinks not only taste a hell of a lot better, but also don't scare people away from talking to you. Considering that I switched from bitter old lady drink to the underage drinker's dream cocktail, you'd think I'd be in a better mood at all these weddings. Not so.

And I have no revelations. Our fights are about stupid things (today's was something along the lines of me blowing up because he mentioned, for the fourth time or so, that he was going to miss the UH season opener against Florida because of our Engaged Encounter weekend), so it's all a coincidence that they happen at weddings. Still, I should be able to put a lid on my temper during the happiest day of someone else's life, because I'd sure like them to do the same on mine. But it is so weird. Maybe I should go back to Greyhounds.

Updated my flickr. Too lazy to make albums, though. G'night!

bad_cat

2008-08-16T08:57:00.005-10:00

I have been neglecting my poor booky blog, mostly because as of late I've elected to spend all of my free time sweating (and watching other people sweat, under the glorious Olympic rings) instead of reading. Anyway, working on the third "words and we's" installment as we speak. I love being up early!

(Note the big fat difference between being up and getting up.)

Anyway, the rest of my fun-filled day looks like this: Attend Tong meeting (ah, my clubs, they are a blog all their own. Someday.) Swim. Buy wedding gift for my cousin, who is getting married tonight. Attend ceremony. Take notes. Eat till we drop at the Willows.

Speaking of weddings and of neglected blogs, my wedding blog is ridiculously overdue for an update. Actually, with six months to go, I hadn't done a thing for the wedding in ages, till yesterday when I hopped on the computer, selected the bridesmaid dresses, ordered all six (ya, I know) and am now sitting pretty, waiting for the next deadline to crash down on my head. Our wedding could go either of two ways. It could grow into a three-ring circus (depending how much I let myself get caught up in other people's ideas of a good time), or it could be the very simple, very laid-back party I'd like it to be. I do get excited about it here and there, but mostly I just want to marry him and then go live our lives. I feel like I'm disappointing all the aunties who want me to get so into it that I'm apoplectic by February, but I just ... don't ... care all that much. I care deeply about the marriage we're entering together; wedding favors and flowers are much less important. This is not to say that I don't give a shake about our wedding, but to say that the day will be lovely no matter how much, or how little, we stress out over details. Like color schemes and invitation details. For instance, I changed my entire color scheme yesterday on a total whim, just because I liked bridesmaid dresses that only came in "violet rose."

Anyway, I guess I have three seconds to post a pic of the dress. Whoops, guess I should go email the pic to my girls as well. :)

holiday!

2008-08-15T20:40:00.003-10:00

Whew.

I think running is helping my hike time, and vice versa.

After the hike I went to Safeway to get a Deli sandwich and discovered a new Yum-Yum: garden veggie sammy. It has lettuce, tomatoes, green bells, artichoke hearts, Provolone, and this really yummy sauce. I usually skip the cheese on my sandwiches but it sounded like too good a combo mess with. Bliss.

Killing time before "Dark Knight" - watching the swimmers and runners do their thing. I like watching swimming (but only have the attention span necessary for 50 and 100m races) just because their speed and endurance seem absolutely unbelievable. I've just built up my endurance so that I can swim 20 laps (1000m) in a single workout, but there are pauses between each (sloooow) 100m. Fifty-meter free without a single breath? CRAZY. 100m 'fly? INSANE. And those medleys, where you need to transition and switch strokes? ABSURD.

Made jambalaya for dinner - without a recipe. Could not connect to the internet and could not find my trusty red Betty Crocker cookbook. So just threw in tons of sausage, shrimp, and red bells, and improvised on the spices. Not terrible.

Almost time to leave! I'm excited to see the movie again, although I have to say that after seeing a clip of Christian Bale hacking someone to pieces in "American Psycho," I am now a little disturbed at the sight of his face.

oh say can you see

2008-08-14T23:10:00.003-10:00

it's not only a bra

2008-08-14T17:20:00.001-10:00

I'm going to do this. I most likely fall into Rank 1, by the way, which means knee or even wall push-ups are my starting point. It'll come in handy as something to do during the Engaged Encounter, a reprieve-less weekend of pre-marriage counseling required by the Catholic Diocese of Honolulu. They won't let us go home to walk our dog, much less go for a leisurely run around Kaneohe.

K, I'm going to go do the initial test and will report back with my results.

And the results are in: I am a Rank 1 Cream Puff. I can do exactly four good-form knee pushups before my arms scream at me to stop the insanity.

Remember the Presidential Fitness Test in elementary school? For me, the most humiliating part of that entire ordeal every year was the flexed-arm hang. Because it had to be performed with an overhand grip, I always failed. Five seconds was considered passing, so anyone who couldn't actually stay chinned for five seconds was required to hang like a monkey for their five seconds. That was me, the PE monkey. Eventually I discovered that I could do the flexed-arm hang, or even work a couple of pull-ups - if I used an underhand grip instead. I used the laundry line poles on the weekends to practice so that eventually I could bust out my new moves on the playground (the monkey bars, natch.)

I guess knee pushups are like underhand-grip flexed-arm hangs. Baby steps, as with anything. But they sure do look stupid.

my missive

2008-08-14T06:15:00.002-10:00

Okay. Honest opinions, please. I have toned this down megawatts from its original:

Dear _____________,

Thank you for your notice expressing the concerns of others regarding our dog. We continue to appreciate how much you do to ensure that the building is a peaceful and pleasant place to live.

As you know, our dog is outfitted with an electronic collar, which emits static shocks when he barks. Because we have made the difficult decision to use this controversial and physically unyielding device, which also makes it undesirable for our dog to bark under normal circumstances (e.g. to warn against intruders or in the instance of injury), I would like to request more information about these incidents of barking, including dates, times, and duration. Currently I am aware of a few times that he has barked while waiting for me to come upstairs after I parked my car. I estimate that this barking (not a nonstop bark, more of an inquiry because he can hear me getting out of my car) lasted about 10 seconds.

If you could ask those who were disturbed to please provide documentation of exact dates, times, and durations of the barking, we would really appreciate it, as it will help us to determine if it really is our dog and, if it is, to work on other solutions to curb the barking. We will continue to do all we can to ensure that we, along with our dog, are being good neighbors in this condominium community and once again, would like to express our appreciation for your diligence.

Thank you for your prompt attention to this matter. Asshole.

Okay, minus the fond farewell, what do you think? It needs to be in the mail ASAP.

hufflepuff scuffle

2008-08-13T18:58:00.011-10:00

After prepping my room for tomorrow's Open House, I left @ 3 on the dot, went for 14 laps, then met S. at home so we could drop the truck off at the Truck Fixing Place. Then we came home and collapsed on the bed. I was fuming from a letter I got in the mail from the RM, who claims there have been "reports" that the dog is barking again. Cited no specific times, dates, or durations of the barking, but threatened us with "action" if it continues. I've already had one run-in with this RM, a year ago. It was the morning of my 29th birthday, in fact; one minute Ken Momochi and I were having breakfast at Zippy's, the next minute I was on my feet shouting into my phone and Momochi was offering his standard service ("Want me to kick his ass?"). I have no desire to discuss anything with the RM again, ever. That's how horrible a 5-minute conversation it was. The man is a complete jackass.

Anyway, my dog may or may not be the source of the barking, but I knew I had to calm down before communicating my frustrations with anyone. I hate the RM and I don't handle it well when people are upset with me, let alone for something that may not even be my fault. The fact that it's an us-against-them deal and I have not been offered a chance to dispute the claim or even ask for specific documentation of the episodes royally pissed me off.

So S. and I were collapsed on the bed (this story is not really about the RM or the dog), him preoccupied about the truck and me angry and worried about Association sanctions, but somehow we managed to cajole each other out of bed and into our running shoes and finally, out the door. And I'm glad we got out, despite the fact that I was tired from sprint-swimming and being mad at the RM, and S. was tired from work. Usually we run on different days or take different routes, mostly because he is more a runner than I am (e.g. he can run three nonstop miles no problem, I have conquered the world if I run one) and also because (this one's stupid) I don't like people listening to me huff and puff after the first block. But we went together this time, huff, puff and all, in a way pulling each other along a short circuit around our area - the culmination up Ward Ave.

Got back and I was so much less stressed. I guess it is true that exercise relieves tension. Previously, it only added to my stress levels, most likely because I hated physical activity with a big fat passion. Swimming and hiking are fun personal challenges, but running - anywhere - is still No Picnic. But I have to say it's a lot easier to get my butt off the couch now than it was before. I am somewhat intrinsically motivated, but a lot of my mental workout momentum comes from shallow, extrinsic motivators like being able to wear shorts again and my brother going "Is that a bicep? When'd you get that?"

And now I'm off to write a letter. Reminder to self: You are calm. You are cool. You are collected.

i am in hiding

2008-08-13T05:14:00.005-10:00

I was reminded by Mama's hilarious tooth fairy post (and I must agree, girl fairies rock so much harder than the boy ones) about this hideous mistake I made yesterday.

We were talking about our Life Graphs when the subject of Santa Claus came up. I have been working with kids for about 10 years now - ages ranging from pre-K (3s and 4s) to high school juniors - and I'm pretty confident about my abilities, whether it's assessing a situation for danger (epic temper tantrum to campus lockdown and everything in between), or teaching my own weakest subject (math), or knowing when a kid can laugh something off or is going to blow his top. I can clean up blood and vomit, invoke excitement over an Eratosthenes' sieve, and perform the many kinds of sleight-of-hand needed to keep a schoolday running smoothly.

But I cannot, apparently, correctly gauge whether I have a class of Believers or Cynics.

I mentioned Buddha, right? He's not called Buddha because he's a peace-loving philosopher. He's called Buddha because he's huge. I meant Buddha in the lobby-at-the-Cal sense, not the Keanu Reeves sense. Frankly, he's a bully. Funny and smart, but a bully. I've also got kids in here who just tested at 9th and 11th grade reading levels, kids with siblings from every circumstance you could imagine (and some you probably couldn't), and a kid who is called by her previous teachers as, simply, "The Manipulator."

Well. I thought I had a class of Cynics, and can you blame me?

I love my Cynics, by the way. Even Buddha. Even The Manipulator. I think they are awesome. But there was no question in my mind - they were Cynics.

So I started talking about Santa Claus and how before, when they were little, some of them believed that Santa Claus brought their presents and how now that they are older they can help their parents preserve the myth for their little brothers and sisters, help wrap presents and tell the kids stories, yada yada yada, what a great honor and tradition, isn't that fun, and oh my God why are they staring at me like that? What are they whispering about? Why can't they close their mouths? Sh*t! Mayday! MAYDAY!

They're TEN! They're ELEVEN! What the - ?!

I am in so much trouble.

Just my luck - Open House is tomorrow night. Can't wait to hear it.

highlights

2008-08-12T21:45:00.000-10:00

Did "Life Graphs" today. Jot down highs and lows of your life - whatever you can remember or have been told has happened to you from birth till now. If I was scared to have kids before, now I'm downright terrified. A sampling of their memories:

- Age 3. I got stichis (sic) in my head. Here is a picture. [A drawing of a head and a lot of blood.]
- Age 1. I rolled off the bed when my anty (sic) wasn't looking and had to go to the hospital.
- Age 9. I drowned. It was not fun.
- Last Sunday. I scraped my back on the Shaka at Hawaiian Waters.
- Age 8. I fell off my bike and scratched up my knees and my face and my elbows and my chest and my hands.

When S. was 9 (I think), he hit his head on the edge of a pool when jumping in for a cannonball. No one saw. He says he knew it was bad only because he lost his vision for a few seconds, and only realized how profusely he was bleeding when someone started yelling at him as he made his way up the bleachers. Blood was flowing out of his head and down his back. His parents weren't home and couldn't be reached, so someone else's parents had to stay with him till his grandma made her way to Hawaii Kai from goodness knows where. I could not believe that sane adults would not take a child bleeding like that to the Emergency Room. S. says it's because whoever takes the minor in is responsible for the hospital costs.

First of all, I don't know how true that is. Second, even if it is in its entirety totally and without exception true, the issue wouldn't even cross my mind. I would call an ambulance or take that kid to the emergency room myself. What kind of adults - parents, no less - put financial cost before common sense in a situation like that? Do people seriously go, "Call 911!" "Oh wait, we'll have to pony up for the ambulance. Nevermind."

So stupid.

Anyway, I hope to photo some of the Life Graphs because aside from their spills and chills, they are fabulous, interesting kids and I'm happy they trust me - and each other - with these details about their lives.

eeeeeevil

2008-08-11T20:00:00.000-10:00

my yogurtland post

2008-08-10T12:44:00.005-10:00

Saw this line from the car and headed back in the general direction of home. But as we drove up Hunnewell, I reasoned that a couple of Disneyland-line pros should not be deterred by what would be categorized as No Line At All for, say, Pirates of the Carribean, and we turned the car around to give it a go.

The yogurt itself (I tried Cookies and Creme, PB, mango and vanilla) was yummy, but where they'll get you is the toppings. Fortunately my favorite topping (sliced almonds) are practically weightless. I also loved the mini-mochi balls and am a sucker for fatty fatty clusters of granola. I was a very happy camper, esp when I checked out at under $7 for my creation plus a little taro/green tea sampler for S., who was patiently waiting at home.

Aside from the fact that the decor (tiny green and yellow tiles) is reminiscent of a restaurant WC, and aside from our misfortune of being right behind a family who insisted on letting latecomers to their party cut the line (and letting their five indecisive kids hold up said line and then put their grubby fingers up certain dispensers) it was an experience I'd gladly repeat.

Ew, I just re-read the last part of that graf and am seriously rethinking the whole going back thing.

Posted: one of a trillion signs warning customers against taking photos or video.
I figured they meant once inside the store.

friday follies

2008-08-08T12:17:00.005-10:00

The weed, part II. I forgot to mention that I did fear the "vase" would be knocked over by the cross breeze, a student, or most likely, my klutzy self, and with disastrous results, but that I felt it was more important to display the treasure for awhile before moving it to a safer spot.

Yep, I totally forgot to move it.

My morning opener: Buddha knocks the "vase" over with his gargantuan schoolbag, and there is a swimming pool open for business on my desk.

Foreground: My poor little Nutshell Library, recovering. Background: My planner, drying.

Argh.

one more for the ex files

2008-08-07T19:48:00.010-10:00

Try as I might to deny any Korean ancestry I carry, I can't seem to fully shake my hotheaded tendencies. It's not, by the way, that I am Korean and ashamed of it. It's that I was born in Korea, to parents of (I suppose) Korean blood, and was later adopted by Chinese parents. Since Chinese (and local) culture are all I know, the most Korean I am ever really exposed to is my in-laws'-to-be cooking and my FMIL's legendary temper. I have never seen her act anything but goofy, but S. claims she is scarier than any Chinese dragon lady you could imagine.

Anyway, I was thinking about this hotheadedness the other day when I came back from my run gross, sweaty and mildly peeved. I was relatively glib about running past the World's Angriest Man, but omitted the fact that WAM is my ex-boyfriend, the only ex I have no communication with, and that lately I have been noticing that this wide, wide circle we walk around each other is starting to get a little smaller and wondering if just maybe, face-to-face civility is next. Now, I was mildly peeved about the WAM killer face, but I was really pissed when I explained to my mom how much the WAM killer face really stunned me (considering that it has been almost two full years since we last exchanged words, and four and a half years since we broke up) and all she could say was, "Well, Cat, you really hurt him," and "Well, it's not like you stopped running and said hi to him."

There was no argument for either of these counts - although it can be pointed out that the last time I said hello to him, and granted it was a year ago or more, it was on my turf (my family still loves him to little bitty pieces so he comes round occasionally) and he totally, fully, absolutely ignored me. But the reason I blew up at my mom is because after 30 years of dealing with our differences, I still can't stand that even in matters of exes with killer faces she won't just get behind me and be a mommy once in awhile. Bring the hugs, you know? I'm sure she can't stand that after 30 years of dealing with me, I won't stop being me, either.

Anyway, I felt really stupid for being so upset that I yelled at my mom because 1) as Dan says, who runs around smiling about the birds in the trees? and 2) it really isn't like I stopped running and said hi to him. If I think two years of uncivility is enough, then I should be the one to stop running and say hi, and if I get nothing in return, then that's part of the bed I made when I picked this life and not the one with him, and it is a small price. Also, I felt really stupid when 3) my brother said tonight at dinner, "Did you run around the valley yesterday? WAM said he thought he saw you, but he wasn't sure if it was you because he doesn't run with his glasses on." Really stupid, did I mention?

Another incident (this afternoon) also got me thinking about the hotheadedness thing and how I need to just chill the hell out once in awhile, but I'm sure this post is long enough already. Some other day.

so what was that zoology degree for?

2008-08-07T12:05:00.001-10:00

I gave a short exercise on sentence editing to aid our study of interrogative and declarative sentences today. After the main editing portion, I gave them three phrases using reading vocab words to use to create interrogative (question) sentences.

- an authority on wild animals
- my exhausted mother
- a serious vow

"Ms. D_C, I can't think of how to make a sentence for 'an authority on wild animals,'" one student complained.

"Well, what is an authority?"

"Someone who, like, knows a lot about something. An expert."

"Good. So let's start thinking. What are some things an authority on wild animals might do?"

"Um, I don't know."

"What about jobs? What kind of job might an authority on wild animals have?"

He thinks long and hard, and when his face lights up I know it's gonna be good.

"Bank teller!"

weed and pot

2008-08-07T06:11:00.019-10:00

Yesterday one of my sweeties returned just before recess with two weeds in his hand. Socially, he's about five, not his actual age of nine, so I don't see him a lot because he goes somewhere else for much of the academic day. Anyway, he came up with these weeds and spent a long time deciding which one he was going to give me. When he made his selection, I expressed my gratitude and put it in a bottle of water. It reminded me of working in Group 1 at Kiddiepark, where the kinder girls would pick blades of grass and weeds all day long if you'd let them, and would present you with beautiful bouquets of "flowers" when they were done.

Before he left to give the other treasure to his other teacher, he said in his slow, clear and deliberate way, "I am going to take this other weed to Mrs. C now." He was perfectly aware that he had picked two weeds (by definition, "undesirable" or "troublesome" plants to others) but had no difficulty seeing the beauty in them, and their potential for making someone else happy.

No time to get deep here, but wouldn't it be great if we could regard more things in life the way Ian regarded his weeds? Sugarcoat less - spend more time noticing, appreciating, and sharing the value of what's already there.

Last night I "made" dinner. I absolutely love that if I dish up something delicious that S. made two nights before, arrange it semi-artfully on a plate, whip up some homemade salad dressing, and bring it all to the table, S. thanks me for making dinner.

And the noodles were for my dinner - spaghetti with jar sauce, one of the greatest comfort foods of all time. Anyway, all the big pots were in the wash, so I had to keep flipping the noodles around till they were soft enough at the ends to bend into the little pot. I hate unevenly cooked pasta.

I still find choosing what you want to eat for dinner to be one of the most satisfactory things about being an adult. It's the simple things that make life great.

um, your face is going to freeze like that

2008-08-06T05:45:00.001-10:00

Went wrunning yesterday. The night before, Mercedes said she was doing NINE MILES in the morning. (Have I ever mentioned that she was half my inspiration for getting off my @$$ in the first place this summer?) So when I left work too late to get to the pool, I said fork the heat and went wrunning. To be accurate and fair, it was more walk than run, but I like to have keep some method to the madness so I pulled the dog (oddly recalcitrant today) up the main road at two-minute, then five-minute, then 10-minute jogs. Met up with S. along the way and handed off the dog so I could have a nice, untethered and uninterrupted run back down.

Yesterday's run made me wonder what I look like when I'm running. I don't mean my running stance or posture or whatever - I know it's all wrong and there's too much bounce in my step, etc. But my face - what does it look like? I wonder if I look angry. I wouldn't think so, just because I actually feel happy when I run lately - or, at least, in some kind of glad wonder that I haven't quit or fallen or expired. On the other hand, I seriously doubt that I'm running around the valley with the world's biggest smile on my face. Because even though I'm enjoying it, it is hard. So I am curious.

Because.

Yesterday I ran past what looked like, drumroll please, the World's Angriest Man. The look he gave me when he ran by was one of pure hatred. I mean, it did not look like he was focusing on his run or listening to "Eye of the Tiger" or anything like that - it looked like he was trying very hard to kill me with his face. If such a thing were possible, he may have succeeded - I was totally blindsided. Me: happy little bee flitting down the sidewalk. Him: angry little hornet wanting to kill the little bee. It's possible that I just looked up at the wrong split second - maybe he was listening to some cheesy song (and maybe I wear that face when I'm listening to the 8 Mile soundtrack, who knows?) but still, I'm gonna start running in shades again. Because that was Ouch with a capital Ow.

Anyway, at last, some pictures from dinner. Well, from dessert. I have to blog things like Melona bars, you understand. I have not had a Melona bar in years, and had forgotten how heavenly, how much like melon-flavored butter they taste. They became a big joke in my circle of friends after a guy asked me out with this line: "Hey, we should go and get a Melona Bar sometime." But I solemnly swear never to joke about Melona Bars again - or to mock nice guys who use them to ask out girls. If I had known anything, I would have married that boy.

Just kidding. (I have to say "just kidding" because my sense of humor and S.'s don't always mesh and I don't want him calling me from work later, asking for his ring back.)

So here we are with our Melona Bars. It's possible that by the time the picture was taken I had devoured mine completely. Yes, that is more than likely. There are more pictures but 1) I'm out of blogging time and 2) they're all of Melona Bars, so.

tuesday: done PMSing

2008-08-05T05:11:00.005-10:00

A portrait of my breakfast. I might have mentioned what a slow mover I am in the mornings. Most people just have to lay out their clothes the night before; I have to lay out my eyeshadows and my oatmeal. If we had enough counter and fridge space I'd pre-pour the milk, too. (Side note: bought one of those HUGE boxes of instant Quaker Oats packets from Sam's, because it was cheaper than buying little boxes of the flavor I like (Apples and Cinnamon) but this means putting up with packets upon packets of flavors I hate, like this one - Banana Bread. It tastes nothing like bananas and always smells fermented. If I could custom pack one of those HUGE boxes, I'd put in half Apples & Cinnamon and half Peaches & Cream.)

Will blog last night's lovely family dinner a bit later when I have a working program that can right-side-up my vertical photos. (I know I can do it with Photobucket but ... it's ... so ... tedious.) Two words till then: Melona Bar. Yummay.

Yay for Jellie and Mama, who answered my workout meme. I guess I can pardon Vickie because she's busy being a new mother, and Mart who doesn't actually read my blog ... Looks at Dan. You owe me, dude. My corneas are still smarting from that Greyhound article.

return of the yucks

2008-08-04T16:26:00.004-10:00

The kitchen looks like a fricking war zone and my tapenade did not come out as it usually does. I know it wasn't the THREE EXTRA OLIVES I rolled into the processor at the last minute.

I should mention that before, during and after the making of the 'nade, I ate my way through the kitchen like a squirrel fresh out of hibernation. Polished off the rest of S.'s special Triscuits, a few spoonfuls (spoonsful, Rory?) of hummus, leftover olives, and a cup of "light" (read: disgusting) strawberry yogurt. And carrots. I may have eaten half a pound of carrots.

Plus, I had to sample the tapenade every so often to see what was going on with it. Eventually I stopped eating that because it was just so ... off.

the garfield in me

2008-08-04T15:18:00.003-10:00

I usually don't hate on Mondays just because they're Mondays. But that's because they don't usually kick me as hard as this one did.

(I say did because I assume now that I'm safely home from work, Monday is back on my side.)

It began with Buddha, brought some unwelcome surprise visitors, and ended with being backed-into by a really nice lady in a really gigantic car. As soon as I was sure Daphne wasn't any more scratched up than she already was, I waved it off and drove away. I needed to get home that bad.

And now here I am. Everything's taken care of (except Buddha; he won't be "taken care of" till commencement in June, grrr) and I'm debating what to do with the hour or so I have till I need to skedaddle over to Mom's. Pout? Snack? Run?

Our awesome Lakewood cousins are here (click here and here for silly pictorials of Hawaiian adventures past), and we finally get to hang out for a little bit. It'll be SO good to have dinner with the fam, especially after this Monday. Cruddy Monday.

dolla dolla bill, y'all

2008-08-03T20:14:00.005-10:00

Me with the dollar I won for second place in the water balloon toss.
'Twas a successful tong gathering.

ag-tay

2008-08-03T07:32:00.011-10:00

Update your blogs, pipple. Here, let me help.

From Monday's a Bitch:

1. How much exercise do you get in an average week?

Enough that I think I may be able to swap my Couch Potato badge for a less dubious ID. Trail Potato? Couch Squash? (Still not a great shape but on the inside, much healthier.)

2. Do you make an effort to fit exercise into your daily schedule?

Yes. But I rotate what I do so that I don't get bored. Side note: Would definitely cheat and get a pair of Fit-Flops so it would feel like I was working out all the live long day, if only they weren't so aesthetically unpleasing.

3. Is there any part of your body that you feel could use a little extra work?

The general jiggle's probably never going away - I can just barely squeeze cardio into my daily routine, so forget weights (for now). But the one thing I am working and waiting for results on is my joey. You know, the pouch. The pot. The tum. The collection of visceral fat around the midsection. For the life of me, I can't get rid of the damn thing. Unlike Pulp Fiction's Fabienne, I do not find it sexy.

... I guess I shouldn't say "for the life of me" because besides the cold-turkey abolition of soda it's not like I've altered my diet in any way. I guess I could go looking for a regimen (diet + workout) that specifically targets the joey.

4. What time of day do you prefer to work out?

The only time I have during the week is after 4 p.m., which is perfect because my preferred public pool is open till 5. Unfortunately it's another two hours before it cools down enough to run. If I'm hiking, I like to go as early as possible so that 1) I don't have to share the trail and 2) the heat doesn't kill.

5. What kind of music or what song gets you pumped to work out?

The spectrum runs from happy to angry but goes in no particular order. I don't have very erudite musical tastes. I like running to the Pointer Sisters, Eminem, Brooks and Dunn, Hilary Duff, Method Man, Groove Armada, DMX ... leaning on the happier side lately, though. Sample playlist: Sugarless (Caviar), Lala (Ashlee Simpson), Jump (Pointer Sisters), Let the Rain Fall Down (Hillary Duff), Mamma Mia (A-Teens), 4 Minutes (Madonna).

Tagged for the above meme: Dan, Vickie, Mama, Jelliejar, and Mart.

our day

2008-08-02T18:38:00.007-10:00

- Wake up at 5 a.m. It's STILL DARK. I hit snooze; S. walks the dog.
- I seriously consider handing S. my keys and going back to sleep.
- Finally (both) out the door at 5:45.
- Because only some of my motor and decision-making skills function that early in the morning, S. has to give me directions as basic as, "Change lanes," "Take this exit," and "Stop."
- We arrive on-site; procedural crud takes more time than it should.
- While S. is taking care of business, I read two chapters of The Age of Innocence.
- I fall asleep, then wake up boiling in my own sweat. Get out of the car. Read some more.
- Finally S. is done. Hurray!
- Breakfast at Ke'eaumoku McDonald's.
- Home to fetch the pooch; drive to Kuli'ou'ou.
- HIKE. IT. TO. THE. TOP. Somewhere among the fastidiously planted Cook pines, I'd like to mention, is a decomposing boar. No, we don't see the boar, but we sure as hell can smell it. It's too big a smell to be a rotting mongoose.
- Come home, get washed and pretty for a fun trip to Sam's Club. We eat an entire pre-dinner in samples: pizza, veggies w/ranch, two kinds of battered fish, zip fizz, teriyaki opah, and for dessert, vanilla pudding. Actual purchases: milk, bananas, romaine salad, onions, shrimp, hummus, and sports bras. Near the restrooms I run into one of my former students, the one who used to snail mail me funny letters and elaborate mini-comics. She's with her brother, a current student of mine. She has turned reticent; after two minutes of trying to talk to her, I turn to her brother and chat with him instead.
- Home for the night! Park in our borrowed stall; haul everything up; S. has chicken curry on the stove. We're going to watch Scorsese's The Age of Innocence ... no, I haven't finished the book yet but I'm itching to watch the movie, which Mart burned for me the other night.

Can't sleep in tomorrow morning, either ... Chinese community picnic at K-park starts at 9 a.m. FTwhy? I think I'll strap up and use it as an opportunity to run around the park, pending the workability of my lower extremities tomorrow morning.

Aw, S is setting the outside table. A romantic dinner and our favorite pastime - neighborly voyeurism - all rolled into one. I love him. :)

mum-mum

2008-08-01T16:50:00.001-10:00

Trying to decide what to do about dinner. This morning I offered to cook, and S said "That would be great, or we could go out. Either." One year ago I would have locked myself in the bathroom for forty-five minutes, Philosophizing my face and pondering what that was supposed to mean - did he not like my cooking? Had he the whole time been faking that undying love for my one unscrewuppable dish, beef and pork lasagna?

Today, of course, I sigh in relief and grab the Entertainment book. Saves 45 minutes of sulking and two hours of trying to cook something edible. Of course if I were in the mood to cook, I could go with the quick standby - spaghetti, which even from scratch is easy and fun, and as one of my kids said today, "When you're done eating spaghetti, it's okay to play with your food." Yessiree.

OMG, I need a fryer. Two things legendary in my heart - Monte Cristo sandwiches and DISNEYLAND. I can't believe I spent $30 on prime rib when I would have been a hundred times happier with an $18.99 MC. Yeah, I know - a $19 sandwich? But it is Disneyland, you understand. It's the Blue Bayou. Some things are worth the pretty penny.

kids say ...

2008-07-31T17:12:00.003-10:00

This year, in addition to a Personal Inventory I have the kids fill out (which includes details like Favorite Author, Best and Worst Elementary Experiences to Date, and Where I Can Be Found After 2:15 P.M.) I had the kids do a straighter info Info Sheet for my own personal reference. Some of my favorite responses (names and phone numbers have been changed to protect the silly):

Exhibit A:

1) My full name is: I like to be called Chris.
2) Please call me: Barry Sakamoto (<-- his dad's name)

Exhibit B:

1) My full name is: Jerome Martin.
2) Please call me: 865-3429.

Exhibit C:

2) Please call me: on my cell
9) All teachers I have had so far at Aloha Elementary school: super cool, funny and nice.

Exhibit D:

8) My parents speak: engelish

Exhibit E:

8) My parents speak: sometimes

Exhibit F:

8) My parents speak: yes