Fuck.
I shoved my belongings into a locker and indulged in a temper tantrum, jumping up and down angrily until I felt foolish enough to stomp into the library office to get a diet soda. Yuri swiveled at her desk and said "Hi!", surprising me enough to spit cola down my front. She got to be my victim to unload my problems on:
Mike was supposed to drive me to work from the Highland Games, but hadn't been bothered to get out of bed in time (he works nights and sleeps during the day).
My mother had to abandon the tea tent and lose her nice parking spot in order to drop me off (and no, I couldn't take her car, she needed it for loading purposes later on).
I decided it was foolish to abandon my yearly fish-and-chips tradition and made myself sick with an entire day's worth of grease in one sitting; furthermore, I was unable to throw up even though I felt nauseous because I have an iron stomach and a fear of slipping down the slope into an eating disorder.
I brought my notebook and current illustration to work; but forgot my textbook and pencils, rendering them useless.
I forgot my nice fuzzy jacket in the tea tent and forgot to pack a change of clothes, so I had to freeze in my inappropriate work attire.
Rar.
Saturday, April 02, 2005
Friday, April 01, 2005
The Games
My mother was running around the living room, looking for her purse and fussing because she was late. I took glance around the room, and Gavin looked up from his morning episode of Thomas the Tank Engine. "Purse?" he said, and scrambled up. He fetched the case to his Thomas DVDs, pulled off the cover, opened it up, and pointed to a picture of a green train engine. "Purse!" he said helpfully, offering it to my mother. The engine's name was Percy. I must now live with the fact that my 2-year old can't say his own name, but can identify the cast of Thomas and Friends. (In my defense, he also knows the names of all the characters in his collection of award-winning bedtime books.)
In other Gavin news, he has officially started talking in sentences. Why, just yesterday, he said, "Ow! Mama hit baby in the head!" (it was an accident!)
Strolling through the week
I spent Wednesday morning interviewing the woman who handles the video collection at our library. The politics involved in wrangling funds and support from the administration was as fascinating as it was terrifying. At this point, I'm not confidant about my ability to stand up to opposition in the professional field, which will be inevitable as a librarian. I can only trust that I will survive my green years and turn into a tough old stick that can bludgeon people into agreeing with me.
After lunch at BaLe, I battled the Honlulu traffic and found a parking spot only two blocks away from the public library. 20 minutes later, holding the only copy of Dance on my Grave on the island, I argued and feigned stupidity until the parking attendant let me back into the structure without paying another fee (ok, I actually was too stupid to figure out the fee schedule and she finally wanted to get rid of me). By the time class rolled around, I had been locked in the computer lab for 4 hours doing homework. I was twitchy and exhausted. The student presentation for the evening was delivered by a woman with a slow, soothing voice that made me sleepy and then repeatedly jabbed me awake with the word "liberry". Yuri passed me a note. Gee, I hope I can work at a LIE-BERRY when I grow up. I wish I had pencils to jam in my ears.
This weekend kicks off the Highland Games. There will be dancing, music, celtic stuff, and fish & chips. Too bad I'll be working.
In other Gavin news, he has officially started talking in sentences. Why, just yesterday, he said, "Ow! Mama hit baby in the head!" (it was an accident!)
Strolling through the week
I spent Wednesday morning interviewing the woman who handles the video collection at our library. The politics involved in wrangling funds and support from the administration was as fascinating as it was terrifying. At this point, I'm not confidant about my ability to stand up to opposition in the professional field, which will be inevitable as a librarian. I can only trust that I will survive my green years and turn into a tough old stick that can bludgeon people into agreeing with me.
After lunch at BaLe, I battled the Honlulu traffic and found a parking spot only two blocks away from the public library. 20 minutes later, holding the only copy of Dance on my Grave on the island, I argued and feigned stupidity until the parking attendant let me back into the structure without paying another fee (ok, I actually was too stupid to figure out the fee schedule and she finally wanted to get rid of me). By the time class rolled around, I had been locked in the computer lab for 4 hours doing homework. I was twitchy and exhausted. The student presentation for the evening was delivered by a woman with a slow, soothing voice that made me sleepy and then repeatedly jabbed me awake with the word "liberry". Yuri passed me a note. Gee, I hope I can work at a LIE-BERRY when I grow up. I wish I had pencils to jam in my ears.
This weekend kicks off the Highland Games. There will be dancing, music, celtic stuff, and fish & chips. Too bad I'll be working.
Monday, March 28, 2005
Easter 05
Gavin dragged his basket out from its feeble hiding place and got very excited about the present behind his chocolate bunny: a new DVD collection of classic Thomas the Tank Engine episodes (I bought it in self defense, to stop us from having to rent the Thomas the Tank Engine movie every week). The early episodes of this little British kiddie show are really very charming.
Mike missed the early morning baskets and creamed Easter eggs on toast, but groggily helped himself to leftovers and located his own basket before calling his family. The smells of roasted lamb and casserole filled the house as we sat our chocolate-laden bodies around the living room to the soft chatter of Thomas the Tank Engine.
Just as we were to meet my aunt for a picnic lunch, Gavin fell asleep and the sky filled with rain clouds. It was decided that we would meet at my aunt's house in an hour for dinner, instead.
An hour later, we phoned ahead and got no answer. We loaded up the food and headed over. The door was open, with no signs of life within. We knocked, called, and rang the doorbell with no answer, until finally my mother went inside and found my aunt, her husband, and their son asleep in the bedroom. The living room was covered in debris, toys, and candy, and the dining table was covered with junk mail. There was no sign of food preparation, but we cleared the mess and laid out the lamb, casserole, potato salad, spinach salad, coconut shrimp, dip, sodas, pie, and cheesecake. My aunt shuffled into the kitchen and pulled out a small plate of cold sliced ham, and set it on the table without heating it. I thought for a minute my mother's head would explode, so I hurried to the living room and put on some classical music in an attempt to create an illusion of festivity in the otherwise cheerless house.
When she realized that we wanted to eat while the food was still warm (except the ham), my aunt woke up her husband and son. It looked grim, but we pulled together and organized an egg hunt for the kids. My cousin stopped tormenting Gavin long enough to run around the lawn for eggs. The dads showed slight competitiveness as they goaded the boys on, helping just a bit too much. Loaded with eggs, the boys ate as much chocolate as they could hold, until Chris was reeling around at top speed, screaming and throwing everything he could get hold of as hard as he could. Gavin hid. I wished I could, too.
Later on my mother and I salvaged the day over hot tea and dark chocolate after Gavin was in bed and Mike had left for work. Well. That was an Easter.
Mike missed the early morning baskets and creamed Easter eggs on toast, but groggily helped himself to leftovers and located his own basket before calling his family. The smells of roasted lamb and casserole filled the house as we sat our chocolate-laden bodies around the living room to the soft chatter of Thomas the Tank Engine.
Just as we were to meet my aunt for a picnic lunch, Gavin fell asleep and the sky filled with rain clouds. It was decided that we would meet at my aunt's house in an hour for dinner, instead.
An hour later, we phoned ahead and got no answer. We loaded up the food and headed over. The door was open, with no signs of life within. We knocked, called, and rang the doorbell with no answer, until finally my mother went inside and found my aunt, her husband, and their son asleep in the bedroom. The living room was covered in debris, toys, and candy, and the dining table was covered with junk mail. There was no sign of food preparation, but we cleared the mess and laid out the lamb, casserole, potato salad, spinach salad, coconut shrimp, dip, sodas, pie, and cheesecake. My aunt shuffled into the kitchen and pulled out a small plate of cold sliced ham, and set it on the table without heating it. I thought for a minute my mother's head would explode, so I hurried to the living room and put on some classical music in an attempt to create an illusion of festivity in the otherwise cheerless house.
When she realized that we wanted to eat while the food was still warm (except the ham), my aunt woke up her husband and son. It looked grim, but we pulled together and organized an egg hunt for the kids. My cousin stopped tormenting Gavin long enough to run around the lawn for eggs. The dads showed slight competitiveness as they goaded the boys on, helping just a bit too much. Loaded with eggs, the boys ate as much chocolate as they could hold, until Chris was reeling around at top speed, screaming and throwing everything he could get hold of as hard as he could. Gavin hid. I wished I could, too.
Later on my mother and I salvaged the day over hot tea and dark chocolate after Gavin was in bed and Mike had left for work. Well. That was an Easter.
Saturday, March 19, 2005
/end drama
Sheesh, what a week.
I went to class feeling better than I did last week. I showered, put on a nice outfit, applied my lipstick, and off I went. The classes are kept at near-freezing temperatures to preserve us at optimal freshness, so I brought my warm fuzzy jacket to bundle up in. I was feeling pretty happy as I walked across campus and snapped my sandal, adding a jingle to my step as the buckle flopped uselessly against the ground. It's fine, I needed an excuse to buy new sandals, even if it did mean having to work all day in broken shoes. I clomped musically to class, zipping up my fleece jacket. At break time, I unzipped it halfway and browsed the school bookstore, noticing that a few of the bored clerks were looking at me. It wasn't until I got back to class that I discovered my shirt ribbons dangling down to my knees; ribbons which hold my wrap-around shirt in place.
The discovery that I had been flashing the book store employees for 20 minutes didn't bother me as much as it maybe should have. They can cope. I reported to work after class and found that spring break was already in session; the library was nearly empty, and our computers had been confiscated in anticipation of Hamilton's big re-opening next week. The hobos looked sad, but it was an good chance to catch up on all the library school gossip with Yuri.
I went to class feeling better than I did last week. I showered, put on a nice outfit, applied my lipstick, and off I went. The classes are kept at near-freezing temperatures to preserve us at optimal freshness, so I brought my warm fuzzy jacket to bundle up in. I was feeling pretty happy as I walked across campus and snapped my sandal, adding a jingle to my step as the buckle flopped uselessly against the ground. It's fine, I needed an excuse to buy new sandals, even if it did mean having to work all day in broken shoes. I clomped musically to class, zipping up my fleece jacket. At break time, I unzipped it halfway and browsed the school bookstore, noticing that a few of the bored clerks were looking at me. It wasn't until I got back to class that I discovered my shirt ribbons dangling down to my knees; ribbons which hold my wrap-around shirt in place.
The discovery that I had been flashing the book store employees for 20 minutes didn't bother me as much as it maybe should have. They can cope. I reported to work after class and found that spring break was already in session; the library was nearly empty, and our computers had been confiscated in anticipation of Hamilton's big re-opening next week. The hobos looked sad, but it was an good chance to catch up on all the library school gossip with Yuri.
Friday, March 18, 2005
St. Patty's
I ripped the tags off my Easter outfit so that I would have a green shirt to wear. Gavin hated my low-heeled shoes, insisting I wear my clunky brown loafers instead. I humored him, tucking the pumps into my bag and bringing them anyway.
Decked out in kilts and "oboings" (spelled phonetically because I don't know how to spell the Gaelic word), Mike and my mom practiced with the rest of the RSCDS, while I walked around the shops with Gavin. We bought gourmet malt balls and fudge at the fancy chocolate shop, and Gavin dragged me into a toy store to look at Thomas the Tank Engine merchandise.
We sat in the audience as the dancers took the stage. I knew vaguely that Mike was expecting a co-worker to show up; a red-head he has an obvious crush on. I didn't think twice about it until I noticed her. She didn't look like the one picture I had seen, standing without makeup in her work uniform, but here she was; about 6 feet tall and looking like she stepped off the cover of a magazine. I suddenly felt very short and frumpy, sitting with poorly-dyed hair and a chocolate-smeared toddler on my lap.
After the performance, my mom and I followed Gavin back into the toy store to buy a set of Thomas colorforms while Mike talked his girlfriend into joining the dance group. Right in front of me. We met the rest of the group over at Gordon Biersch for a drink and some good conversation. Gavin colored his menu, only crying when Mike tried to take him off my lap to give me a break. I really tried to shelf my depression and have a little fun, but for the most part I was ignored and stuck with Gavin for company. Not that he isn't good company - we had a nice time looking at the aquariums and art in the Wyland gallery - but I guess I've been pretty damn lonely for some time now. I watched a happy couple with a tiny newborn baby, thinking hard. The baby was pretty irresistible, but having another would mean three more years of nursing and two kids to chase while everyone ignores me. And - says a dark little voice in my mind - there I would be: pregnant, fat, and tired while Mike goes to work with his leggy redhead.
I hate this feeling.
Thursday, March 17, 2005
Sock weather
The nights have been cold, and the days are chilly enough for socks and sweatshirts. I dug through my Stephen King books until I found a short story about Roland that I hadn't read, then curled up with tea and a blueberry muffin to chase away the cloud of depression that has been over me.
Mike tried to dye my hair red for St. Patty's, and was successful for most parts of my head. Tonight our Scottish group has a dance demo at Aloha Tower. I'll be joining the crowd in the drunken block party and cheering on the dancers with Gavin on my hip, then joining everyone at Gordon Biersch for a home-brewed root beer before doing my bit as the designated driver. Part of me wishes I could get a babysitter, hit the town, and have a few drinks like everyone else, but this is a family outing, it's not for me. I would only end up sitting on a bench somewhere, frowning at the crowd with a half-sipped drink in my hands, anyway.
I am not wearing green, but at least I put a corned beef on to simmer. Impulsively, I got online and ordered a subscription to Juxtapoz magazine, and I feel a bit better.
Mike tried to dye my hair red for St. Patty's, and was successful for most parts of my head. Tonight our Scottish group has a dance demo at Aloha Tower. I'll be joining the crowd in the drunken block party and cheering on the dancers with Gavin on my hip, then joining everyone at Gordon Biersch for a home-brewed root beer before doing my bit as the designated driver. Part of me wishes I could get a babysitter, hit the town, and have a few drinks like everyone else, but this is a family outing, it's not for me. I would only end up sitting on a bench somewhere, frowning at the crowd with a half-sipped drink in my hands, anyway.
I am not wearing green, but at least I put a corned beef on to simmer. Impulsively, I got online and ordered a subscription to Juxtapoz magazine, and I feel a bit better.
Monday, March 14, 2005
it's called "research"
Monday, my favorite day of the week! (No, really.) Weigh-in day and date night. I did manage to lose a pound after all, and this evening Mike and I will go see Sideways. Looking forward to it.
I found myself with nothing to do during Gavin's nap today. The house was cleaned yesterday, I did the dishes already, I have no homework due, my boss hasn't sent me web design work, I finished the book I was reading, and I completed an illustration last night. Ha! Two hours of mindless television, all mine! I balanced out the mental decay of Real World and Celebrity Fit Club with a million crunches and pushups. No time is ever wasted as a librarian, they say. Two hours of watching MTV is a hard study session of pop culture, so that one day my reference knowledge might impress a patron. Sure.
On a more mature note, I also filled in the specifics on the collaboration agreement for my publisher, which I will mail today, bringing us the final step toward having our book published. We will be given 20 copies of the book when it is released, which will make for some very convenient and narcissistic gifts for our relatives this Christmas.
Thursday, March 10, 2005
Chocolate malty balls
For the first time in months (or maybe years), Mike and I went out shopping together, looking for black men's work shoes.
Gavin was so happy to have his dad's company. He threw himself into Mike's arms at every opportunity, and showed him how to play with toy cars on every surface he could find. The two of them entered a chocolate shop with big shiny eyes and identical "ooh"s and "aah"s, and they were cute enough that I bought them some treats. I inadvertently tortured Mike by giving him the simple (so I thought) task of picking out a pair of shorts for Gavin. Half an hour later, he was tugging at his hair with frustration, so I grabbed an outfit for the kid and turned Mike towards the men's section instead. He immediately found himself some clothes, to my surprise. We left with a new spring outfit apiece; but no black shoes. We finished the evening by watching The Notebook and enjoying each-other's company over popcorn.
But now I had a shoe mission of my own. Our cockroaches have a taste for cheap faux-leather loafers, and ate big holes in my work shoes. I decided it was time to search out the perfect pair of librarian shoes; conservative, closed-toed shoes with enough of a heel to make up for their dowdiness. This sent me on a three-hour hunt through 5 stores, and as much as I like my stupid quests, I hate shoe shopping. At first I settled for a $45 pair that gave me real misgivings - I'm simply not the kind of girl who can spend that much for shoes with so little substance. I went to Ross and found exactly the shoes I was searching for - closed-toe, inexpensive, and just a bit slutty. (Although my mother clucked her tongue at them and said, "Sorry, kid, nobody at the library is going to be stuffing dollars into your pants in those." Rats.)
Gavin has been developing sentences. Recently he has said, "Mom, I watch Thomas? We go buy Thomas," and "Mom, where treats for kitty?" and "No, mama no poop, baby poop!" Yes, I am a proud mama. Last night we took him to Scottish dancing, where he figured out how to make forts out of sectional dancing mats. My mother stuck a few together to make a box and closed him up inside, keeping him busy for an hour while Mike and I danced.
Exciting events in the next few weeks: I must suffer through an intensive class weekend this Sat and Sun; Mike is dancing a demo at Aloha Tower on St. Patty's day; Easter with a 2-year old promises to be fun; and the Highland Games are on the first weekend of April.
I'm a happy girl.
Gavin was so happy to have his dad's company. He threw himself into Mike's arms at every opportunity, and showed him how to play with toy cars on every surface he could find. The two of them entered a chocolate shop with big shiny eyes and identical "ooh"s and "aah"s, and they were cute enough that I bought them some treats. I inadvertently tortured Mike by giving him the simple (so I thought) task of picking out a pair of shorts for Gavin. Half an hour later, he was tugging at his hair with frustration, so I grabbed an outfit for the kid and turned Mike towards the men's section instead. He immediately found himself some clothes, to my surprise. We left with a new spring outfit apiece; but no black shoes. We finished the evening by watching The Notebook and enjoying each-other's company over popcorn.
But now I had a shoe mission of my own. Our cockroaches have a taste for cheap faux-leather loafers, and ate big holes in my work shoes. I decided it was time to search out the perfect pair of librarian shoes; conservative, closed-toed shoes with enough of a heel to make up for their dowdiness. This sent me on a three-hour hunt through 5 stores, and as much as I like my stupid quests, I hate shoe shopping. At first I settled for a $45 pair that gave me real misgivings - I'm simply not the kind of girl who can spend that much for shoes with so little substance. I went to Ross and found exactly the shoes I was searching for - closed-toe, inexpensive, and just a bit slutty. (Although my mother clucked her tongue at them and said, "Sorry, kid, nobody at the library is going to be stuffing dollars into your pants in those." Rats.)
Gavin has been developing sentences. Recently he has said, "Mom, I watch Thomas? We go buy Thomas," and "Mom, where treats for kitty?" and "No, mama no poop, baby poop!" Yes, I am a proud mama. Last night we took him to Scottish dancing, where he figured out how to make forts out of sectional dancing mats. My mother stuck a few together to make a box and closed him up inside, keeping him busy for an hour while Mike and I danced.
Exciting events in the next few weeks: I must suffer through an intensive class weekend this Sat and Sun; Mike is dancing a demo at Aloha Tower on St. Patty's day; Easter with a 2-year old promises to be fun; and the Highland Games are on the first weekend of April.
I'm a happy girl.
Monday, March 07, 2005
Sign on the line
The contracts are signed, ready to be delivered to the publisher. The illustrations are burned to disk. Big breath, plunge.
Yesterday was a long day at the library. The air conditioning in the A/V room burned out, and I helped lug big fans upstairs to circulate the aroma of hobo farts. Yuri had me alphabetizing five year's worth of old personnel files, and I was returning from the office with a stack of green file folders when one of our regulars stopped me to flirt. He was a surprisingly smooth talker. The first sober stranger to hit on me at work, and he wasn't bad looking, either.
When I got home, my mother announced the end of my donut quest. Seems she found about 5 pounds of chocolate donut holes at Costco. I bagged them up in gallon-sized freezer bags and poked them in the freezer, leaving out two for myself. Counting it as a win.
To top it off, the library finally paid me. While this is exciting, my daydreams of all the wonderful things I would buy with my first paycheck have suddenly evaporated in a miserly haze. It will be with gritted teeth that I force myself to buy the bras, undies, socks, and shoes I so desperately need. Perhaps I'll spend the rest on my dentist bill. Ugh.
Thursday, March 03, 2005
The Quest
I was assigned a book to read for my YA lit class, and for the life of me, I was unable to find this book. It was missing off the shelves of every library on the island. Every book store said it was out of print and hadn't been stocked since 1995. A used copy ordered from the internet got lost in the mail. I was determined to read this damned book, and it was with bitter satisfaction that I unwrapped the battered packaging of the lost book when it finally arrived in our mailbox, three weeks late and after my assignment was already due (I read a different book, but it really didn't matter, winning was the point).
So now I've been hunting for chocolate glazed donut holes for nearly 2 weeks. I want just one. One! So of course every grocery store in the area is out of stock. At first I was just glancing at the bakery and snack sections as I walked by, then I began making express trips just to look. Yesterday, I dragged Mike and Gavin all the way to Kailua to visit the one Dunkin Donuts on our side of the island - and they were closed for A/C repairs. This means a trip across the island to the Dunkin Donuts in Waikiki, I think.
I should count my blessings that my life is so boring. Adventure is never fun while it happens.
So now I've been hunting for chocolate glazed donut holes for nearly 2 weeks. I want just one. One! So of course every grocery store in the area is out of stock. At first I was just glancing at the bakery and snack sections as I walked by, then I began making express trips just to look. Yesterday, I dragged Mike and Gavin all the way to Kailua to visit the one Dunkin Donuts on our side of the island - and they were closed for A/C repairs. This means a trip across the island to the Dunkin Donuts in Waikiki, I think.
I should count my blessings that my life is so boring. Adventure is never fun while it happens.
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