Halloween 2022

So, I don’t get to buy a camera, but close. I am PISSED. But also just depressed and indifferent. Feelings are complicated.

Had roast beef and did shitty karate up and down the neighborhood with the kids. Couldn’t find any old Coors bottles to fit my Cobra Kai costume, so I drank Guinness out of a kombucha bottle. 

Oh boy

Zenny forgot her hoodie-vest at school, but she did a good job as the kid from Thor: Love and Thunder anyway. Leif was a knight, cousin Teddy was a mobster with a bad mustache.

 Much spoop

I'm probably going to buy a camera anyway.

- - -

Before all of that, we went to to the historic Ewa train Spooktacular.

We have been riding the spooky train since Gavin was a baby. Now the boy is away at college, but the train remains the same. It's $5 for a 20 minute ride along the old train tracks at night, with teenagers dressed as zombies lurching out at the train as it rumbles by, and cheap snacks available at the concession stands.

Zenny and Leif represented.

So creppy

Whoa scary

Much blood

It was a good Halloween, and I'm not dead.

it's fiiiine

Something went wrong in my latest round of screenings, and my doctor wants to sit down with me on Monday to go over it. While booking the appointment, I was too busy analyzing the receptionist's voice for clues to realize that Monday was Halloween. If I get bad news an hour before handing out candy to trick-or-treaters, it's going to be a rough night. Luckily, I'm dressing as Johnny Lawrence, so if I start throwing candy bars at kids, it'll be in character.

I didn't like Cobra Kai when it first came out, but workplace peer pressure got to me, and it does have its moments

 

This time, if I get bad news, I am not going to do something stupid like a book a trip I shouldn't take and delete 10 years of journals. A plan will be in place. 

The plan so far: 

Step 1. Leave the doctor's office, get in my car, drive to the beach, wade into the water, and give that shark another chance to finish me off.

Step 2. Buy the Nikon D850 I've been wanting.

 

It isn't a good plan, but I have all weekend to think about it.

Just chop the organs out already, Doc. I don't need them anymore, and I'm not interested in having interventions every 5 years until they finally decide to kill me. I have arch enemies to outlive. 

surf, goats, and scotch

For the first time in two years, the Menehune Surf Contest was back on, and there I was, sitting at a plastic fold-out table with Scholastic books to give away and a cute scratch-art jack-o-lantern craft, ready to enrich young minds and get a free lunch.

Wholesome youths waiting for their heats 

The first kid to walk up took a pumpkin, scratched in a pair of eyes, a big smiling mouth, and a dick and balls for a nose. "Look!" he showed his friend, "He's a Chad!" 

I took the child's phone and shot-put it into the ocean. 

Depraved youths in line for free açaí bowls

Next time I’m skipping the craft and just giving them stickers.

On Sunday, we were up at the stables for another horseback riding lesson. One of the students was a toddler in diapers and a spiked helmet, being led around by a nervous-looking instructor who was trying to coax him into patting the horse with the brush without getting stomped into the mud or kicked in the head. Seems like a lot of money to pay to endanger your baby when we have a beach full of sharks right there, for free, but okay. While Zenny trotted in circles with her teacher (and a horse), I wandered around and took unflattering pictures of all the farm animals.

Pretty sure this one was actually a puppet

Mr. Sneeze in Your Face, some blonde kid with great hair, and three copy/pasted ladies in the background 

I asked Chicken Nugget to pose for a portrait and this is what he did

Someone dropped a goat pellet, RUN

Did not get snot on me this time, I have natural aptitude for farming.

The Royal Scottish Country Dance Society got together for a party to kick off the season of dance classes. These used to be fun, back when members hosted the parties in their own homes and everyone got loaded on fried noodles and booze, but these days the event is hosted in a meeting room and everyone sits stiffly on plastic chairs and sips cheap wine. 

 

whoa there, reign it in, folks

I brought a Costco custard pie, the only dessert I know for sure a group of elderly people with finicky diets will polish off in one sitting, and my mother plonked down an entire bottle of good scotch. I don't get along with scotch, but I do enjoy bolting half-shots of my mother's drinks when she walks off and forgets about them. "My scotch keeps leaking out of this hole in the top of the glass," she said, getting another refill. It was a good night to play this game, because after I swiped my third half-a-glass, my aunt announced that my 15 year-old cousin had joined an Air Force program and is going to be allowed to fly actual airplanes. 

 

oh no

Well, why not?

How complicated can planes be, anyway?

 

The rest of the week has been the wrong kind of adventure; doctor's offices, auto shop waiting rooms, long phone calls with the insurance company about out-of-state ER invoices, surprise orthodontics bills, trying to help a Ukrainian immigrant with housing paperwork through a heavy language barrier and sprinkles of anti-vaccination propaganda she heard on Russian TV. 

Punching my way through the evening workouts, feeling very ready for a weekend of pumpkin patch hay rides and Sunday dinner dessert.

Painting and fitness content

Painted some strawberry guavas and started a new 6 week workout program. 

I didn’t make a ton of progress in the last 6 weeks (I got a bit derailed by exploding organs), but I definitely gained strength in my arms, and my knees hurt less with more muscle to hold them onto my legs. 

This next 6 week program has more boxing and MMA training, so I can get my Eagle Fang on and hone my storytime crowd management skills.

Feeling good today.

autumn

October is here, and I am doing that thing where you suddenly realize your kids are running out of Halloweens and start getting really into scented candles, decorative gourds, and seasonal baked goods. This year we're doing trick-or-treating at our house, so I get to set up a driveway candy tent, with a fog machine and lasers. If I can find them. It will be great. Or if not great, it will be me sitting in a lawn chair with a bucket of candy and a beer. The job will get done, though.

Painting has been slow, workouts have been tough. Not feeling completely myself yet.

But I'm getting on with things. 

Went to Beer Lab and found a decent pumpkin ale, then annoyed the saleswoman in Bath and Body Works by demanding meme candles

Making dessert for Sunday dinner is serious business 

 

RESULTS. Good job, kid.

 

View from the grocery parking lot next to my mother's house

PARTY ON MY PANTS. 

These guys use me as a scratching post every time I try to put my shoes on in the morning

I've got a couple of gallery shows coming up in the next few months. Better get my shit together and finish some paintings.

Contemplation counts as part of the process. 

on the case

One of my college friends died last week. Amber was kind and funny and beautiful, leaving a 10 year old son and her husband, who was also a classmate. She’s the second of our school peers to die of natural causes in 2 years (Phillip, my high school friend, having a heart attack at the beginning of 2020), and I know that number will increase exponentially from here on out. Thinking about people a lot this week. 

Also keeping an eye on the storm, as it tries to knock down the houses of a few of those people. I’m not counting floods and falling trees as “natural causes”, you guys. Don’t do it.

The continuing saga of the hole in the window

My tear ducts finally unfcked themselves, but not before breaking every blood vessel in my eyeballs, giving me the unfortunate look of a librarian who has been lighting up at the reference desk. This maybe explains why the detective who showed up to have another look at the bullet hole in our window sat down and explained to me very slowly that without "proof" he can't just arrest anyone who looks guilty, because that's called a "violation of their civil rights". I nodded, also slowly, and explained that we really just needed a paperwork trail for documentation in case it happened again. 

"And anyway," I said, "I don’t think the guy we trespassed is actually smart enough to get his hands on a real gun. There would be bullet holes in everything, including himself. My running theory right now is 'kids shooting at chickens with pellet guns'."

"Well," he said, "That guy did just get picked up for busting out the windows of the property next door, and there was a witness, so we got him on that, at least."

"Did he shoot the windows out, or throw a rock?"

"I can't speak to that. But yeah, a rock."

"So can we assume, if there's another incident, that it's not him, because he's in custody - or has he already been released?"

"I can't really say. But yeah, he's out."

Look at me, expert interrogator.

The detective hung around chatting, either because he was enjoying the air conditioning or because he was hoping I'd offer him some weed, until my boss finally shooed him out so we could close for lunch. 

And that is how we became not at all closer to solving the mystery.

In other news, I’ve been back on the workout program and doing ok. My doctor gave me pills that should “correct” my middle-aged metabolism and allow me to lose weight again, but so far all that’s happened is my bosoms have gotten bigger. I’ll take that as progress anyway. One more week of the intermediate program, then I’ll take progress pictures again.

Busted

Spent most of the week laying on the couch, watching British comfort tv. My doctor was mad at me for doing sit-ups and then calling to ask why my insides were hurting again, so I was being a good little invalid and staying horizontal, with a hot compress on my face because all that crying in the ER had freaked out my desiccated eyeball ducts.

But Saturday was showtime. The library was celebrating its 95th anniversary, with a band, cupcakes, ice cream, speeches from local politicians, and a big storytime with sing-alongs and a craft activity, performed by the children’s librarian. Who is me. So I had to be there, messed up eyeballs and all.

Just one thing went wrong.

Eight years ago, when I was first introduced to our local senator, his wife thought my name was “Heather”, and it took me two years to notice. By year five, it was too late to correct her, and by year seven I was actively trying to prevent her from finding out the truth. Yesterday, I walked in and there it was: my name on the program; a seat with my name printed on it next to the senator; and an introduction on the loud speaker in front of a hundred people. As I was making my brief speech, I made eye contact with the senator’s wife in the crowd.

Oh no, you guys. 

Ducked out afterwards and led 30 preschoolers in clapping songs until the formalities wrapped up and the important people left.

I could always change my name to Heather before she picks up her next book holds.

Update

ER doctor was wrong, and macerated my insides for nothing. Now it looks like I have a kidney infection after passing a stone they didn’t check for. 

My doctor put me on antibiotics. 

So that’s good.

Except I have suddenly started feeling worse again. Back on the phone with my doctor. 

And because I’m embarrassed and kind of horrified about  talking this much about my insides, I’m just going to sit on the rest of this process until it’s resolved, or until I’m sending out irritated deathbed confessionals. The longer this goes on, the more grouchy they’re going to be. “Look, asshole, we’ve had our differences, but what I did in 1997 wasn’t cool, and I’m sorry about that. Get bent, xoxo, H.” 

Etc.

I’ll post something periodically to show I’m alive. 

Day 5 and return home

On my last day, I laid in my hotel room and took notes on live-streamed sessions. Threw back some ibuprofen in the evening and slowly walked out to the shuttle stop to meet a librarian for a last dinner. She was easy company because she was excited to be traveling and had a lot to talk about, so I just smiled and asked questions while picking at my barbecue platter. We found a candy shop on the walk back to the shuttle and picked up treats for people back home. I was so relieved to go to bed and be done with this trip.

I tried, you guys 

Bathroom graffiti in Tennessee 

4am ride to the airport, 10 hours of flying, and I’m home. Gingerly hugged my kids, dumped candy out for them, and went to bed. Calling my doctor today. Something is still not right.

Scrolling through my FB feed, I saw I missed my high school reunion. All the cool kids who gave me shit for 4 years got together at the beach park to drink Heineken on concrete picnic benches and play “lap dance musical chairs” and “fashion show”, where they put on feather boas and did improv drag performances. Would this have been more fun than spending 12 hours in an ER with a torqued bowel? Too close to call.

Chattanooga day 4

Feeling like someone stomped twice on my stomach and kicked me in the kidney, but sat through a session and then walked like an escaped care home patient to the distillery with my group for a tour. Tasted the whiskey in tiny mouse sips and dutifully bought a bottle of the most average one. Finally had real food at a nice restaurant, and didn’t throw up. Having a good time.

The building is on the Historic Building Registry, with a tree growing out of it

A rainbow of headaches 

The barrel room 

Rowdy whiskey-drinking librarians harassing the tour guide because he looked like some football player 

My first po’ boy and collard greens - didn’t finish it, but it was good to have solid food again.

One more day.