Oahu

I packed up three suitcases with clothes and toys, stuffed a cat in a carrier, and took the boys to Oahu. Cats can't be sent through the baggage x-rays, so they make you take them out and carry them through security while they try to claw out your hair and eyes (the cats, not security). The kids thought this was pretty fantastic. TSA thought it would be funny to make me hold my hands out for chemical swabbing even though I was holding a frantic cat, in case she was an elaborately disguised bomb. If I were going to disguise a bomb, I would knit it a bomb cozy and pretend it was ironic. And then get caught and go to prison, because I am terrible at subterfuge, and that hiding-in-the-open thing never works. That is how they got my keychain pepper spray and whiskey flask.

The Blue Angels were terrorizing Kaneohe in preparation for the air show. Driving back from the airport, traffic braked and swerved as the jets roared in overhead and buzzed the highway. We all flailed and yelled in excitement, and decided to take the kids to the show over the weekend.

Which we did.

I didn't get any shots of the show with my phone, as I am a fan of viewing things with my eyeballs. My favorite bit was when they burst out over the crowd from behind and made everyone scream. Stealth attack! I am not informed enough to be an enthusiast, but I appreciate a skillful display of weaponry and combat.

The kids appreciated flipping all the switches on the cargo plane and pretending to crash it. I banned them from flight school.



A hundred school buses glided up with military synchronization to carry the swarming masses back to their cars. I waited for them to execute precision barrel rolls while we rode through the base, and in general felt much better about our odds of surviving the zombie attacks. Leif was similarly at ease.

Back at my mom's house, Astrid was getting acquainted with the place. My two old cats from high school - now tottering around like 18-year old sacks of bone and fur and nubby teeth - almost keeled over from anxiety. Xebo started hissing at everything that moved, including the fan, and Hercules tried to hiss and went into an asthmatic coughing fit. Astrid galloped away, scrabbled down behind the washer, kicked out all the hoses, caused a flood, tried to escape through the bathroom window, and got caught between the screen and the closed louvers, smashed flat upside down like a trapped ferret.

Then she climbed the front screen and tried to walk across the curtain rod.

And traumatized the fish.

This was all very entertaining, but in the down time between forays to Target and visits to our favorite restaurants, we sat in the evenings watching Jeeves and Wooster and I knitted a tiny sweater, start-to-finish.



Vestee, my go-to pattern for folks with incoming offspring.

Made in washable Comfy.

I added cables up the sleeves, because I am fancy

and enjoy putting a lot of detail into something that will be barfed on.

I flew back alone on Tuesday. Three weeks to wrap things up and interview for transfer. A costco package of frozen burritos to sustain me. A new phone to pester the kids with via FaceTime. A bed to myself and the new J.K. Rowling book to take with me. The month will go by in no time.