We sat under the trees in Kapiolani, admiring the ocean waves from the banana hammock section of the beach park; aging leathery men in tiny colorful thongs were laying all over the grass. We ate lunch with a handful of other new LIS grads. One of the SOs jumped up to play football with Gavin. When he plopped back down with us, he looked at my belly, declared he wanted a son, and his girlfriend sipped her drink pointedly.
I covered Gavin in SPF 50 and followed him down to the water. Gavin ran back and forth from the crashing waves until it was time to head back to the car to over to quarantine to spend some time with the cat. Back home, Gavin peeled off his swim trunks and realized he was wearing a second pair of shorts made completely out of sand. He laughed and turned around to show me, and just then, a small face appeared at the window and the girl next door yelled, "Can Gavin come out to PLAY?" Gavin yanked down his shirt and ran into the bathroom, raining sand. I was a terrible mom and laughed. Age 5, Gavin discovers modesty.
Saturday, June 14, 2008
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
Saturation
1) There is a Hawaiiana cover of Cat Steven's 'Wild World'.
2) They play it at the DMV.
3) This is no good for me
Sitting in a hard plastic school desk with the tinny warble of ukulele on the overhead speaker, I white-knuckled the pencil through the driver's test in a state of distraction. Evidently this is the key to DMV success; I slapped the finished test up on the desk, did a little happy dance at my best score ever, made a lemur face for the camera, and 30 seconds later I was walking home with a shiny new Hawaii license. The sky was blue, the trees were green and red and yellow, and the world is no longer monochromatic California brown.
Gavin has been spending his days playing with the girl next door, a nice kid with a swingy cropped haircut and big dilated anime eyes. We extracted him from her house and headed to the hardware store in the afternoon. I spent $7 on specialty dish soap and bought Gavin a twisty popsicle. Halfway to the gas station, he began making distressed noises, and I looked back to see his popsicle streaming like a fountain down onto his lap, the twists acting as irrigation troughs. "Disaster!" he wailed, licking frantically. "Let me show you how to do that," I said, then half the popsicle broke off and I accidentally inhaled it. We disposed of the popsicle at 7-11 and got a Slurpee instead.
We drove over H-3, happy to see the mountains, and spent a while lying in Maura's quarantine cell during visitor's hours. The animal quarantine units look like a cross between chicken coops and an internment camp; rows of large outdoor sheds partially walled with chain-link fence. Not so bad, really - I had been envisioning something like a Japanese capsule hotel.
So, not this:
2) They play it at the DMV.
3) This is no good for me
Sitting in a hard plastic school desk with the tinny warble of ukulele on the overhead speaker, I white-knuckled the pencil through the driver's test in a state of distraction. Evidently this is the key to DMV success; I slapped the finished test up on the desk, did a little happy dance at my best score ever, made a lemur face for the camera, and 30 seconds later I was walking home with a shiny new Hawaii license. The sky was blue, the trees were green and red and yellow, and the world is no longer monochromatic California brown.
Gavin has been spending his days playing with the girl next door, a nice kid with a swingy cropped haircut and big dilated anime eyes. We extracted him from her house and headed to the hardware store in the afternoon. I spent $7 on specialty dish soap and bought Gavin a twisty popsicle. Halfway to the gas station, he began making distressed noises, and I looked back to see his popsicle streaming like a fountain down onto his lap, the twists acting as irrigation troughs. "Disaster!" he wailed, licking frantically. "Let me show you how to do that," I said, then half the popsicle broke off and I accidentally inhaled it. We disposed of the popsicle at 7-11 and got a Slurpee instead.
We drove over H-3, happy to see the mountains, and spent a while lying in Maura's quarantine cell during visitor's hours. The animal quarantine units look like a cross between chicken coops and an internment camp; rows of large outdoor sheds partially walled with chain-link fence. Not so bad, really - I had been envisioning something like a Japanese capsule hotel.
So, not this:
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