party party

Late in the afternoon, Mike pulled out an image disc given to us years ago by "Pee-ah an' Ch'ysa" (hey, you guys have two syllables now!) and we browsed pictures of Lake George with Gavin. He squealed at all the pictures of himself as a chubby baby, said we should go there and never come back, and commented, "Ooh, mom real real fat! Mom has a baby in hers." Hrm. At any rate, it was cool that he got the vibe off the place, I wonder if he remembers it at all.

The garden party was held in Ron's back yard, a suburban oasis at the base of the river, with a waterfall and swimming hole surrounded by forest. In the middle of Kaneohe. Weird. The cabana was perched on a cliff, with a rope leading down to the water. We dragged chairs in front of the drop-off to block it and took up posts on the other side with Gavin. The food was lovely, and Gavin and I rolled in the yard for a while before the conversation turned drunkenly to right-wing politics and we made a graceful exit.

ugh

6:00am. Threw workout clothes in car, hopped in. Turned key. Flashy yellow engine light. Opened hood (now expert at opening hood, no longer fumbling idiot), discovered that I forgot to screw the cap back on the yellow bubble thing that holds the coolant. Poured dregs of pre-mixed antifreeze in bubble, not even making it up to the minimum line. Confessed mistake to Mike, who directed me to drive straight to the convenience store and buy more coolant before going to work, being sure not to overfill it as it will be hot and bubbly or something. Drove to nearest gas station, which had no coolant. Drove to 7-11, sulked over lack of pre-mixed coolant, stood in line with gallon of anti-freeze and a Diet Coke, getting nods from men who thought I was a girl who could handle car things. Had them snowed. Went back to car, partly filled empty coolant jug with water, poured in coolant with skill of trained chemist. Shake shake shake, into little yellow bubble thing, presto! Screwed top back on. Am car-savvy woman of the world. I hate cars.

Almost didn't have time for morning workout. Hopped on cross-ramp beside embarrassed-looking man (why are cross-ramps considered chick machines and treadmills not? Both move legs without getting anywhere), then covered machines quickly, pleased to be able to hike the bench press up another 10 pounds. Not yet pressing body weight, but close. Watched the other working women put on makeup while I pulled on my jeans and tank top, decided to go to work au-natural, since nobody would see me clearly anyway, for reasons to follow.

Drove to dark, powerless school. Electricians at work digging up cables, searching for fried mongoose to blame for crisis-level power blowout. Teachers entered dark library all day, asking, "What do you have in the way of pirate books?" "Where are all the Magic Schoolbus books?" and other questions while I pretended to type queries into my dead computer. Rummaged through shelves by memory and wrote down barcodes on xerox paper with nubby pencil, very high-tech and resourceful back-up circulation method. Ate a lot of fruit. Doodled a bit.

Friday night! No work on Monday! Am preparing to set table for dinner and go see Cars movie with anxious toddler. Feel like baking, but must not. Have gained a pound so far this week, but have shrunk. Hoping this means muscles.

Friday!!

soap curry and yoga

Yesterday I suffered self-loathing over bad scale reading. Decided to drown sorrows in tea at Volcano Joes, and adorable idiot waitron gave me 2 cups by mistake. "You want the second one anyway, since I already put the tea bag in?" he grinned, eliciting a stupid flutter of eyelashes from me as I scooped them up and trotted back to my table. Complained to Mike about my body image while automatically dumping 6 packets of Splenda into the first cup of tea. Would have put in more had they been on the table. Slapped forehead, drank it anyway, pausing to pour the second cup in to dilute the sweetness halfway through. Mike mopped up the puddles and patted me. 

This morning felt embarrassed and vindicated as 2 pounds dropped off. Probably temporary fluctuation from all that darn salt on my crab poke Sunday night, bah. Spent morning at Emporium of Evil (Walmart), shopping for luggage and underpants. Found snappy red luggage set (Gavin wheeled the little suitcase up and down the aisles eagerly, "My suitcase for Lake George! I put aaaall my choos choos in here") and then noted alarming absence of  my favorite kind of underpants. What has the world come to? Sulked out of underpants section and into toys, where Gavin got very excited about Cars movie merchandise. He eyeballed all the giant remote-controlled toys before picking up a small matchbox-sized model of the main character (hey, he's not greedy). Besides the "never say no if he asks for produce" rule, there is also a "never say no if he asks for books" rule, and so he made it out with two Cars books as well. I am a sucker. 

Made cookies with butterscotch chips, then destroyed dinner. Thai curry tasted like Palmolive. Threw rice in pot with ground turkey and peanut butter sauce instead, leaving soapy curry on stove to think about what it had done wrong. Notice that it has still not thrown itself away. Pulled on my yoga pants and went to the gym. Twenty seconds into my drive, the engine light flashed on and I was under the hood on the side of the road tipping anti-freeze into the little yellow bubble thing. Got back in car and chewed on fingernails - wondered suddenly if the anti-freeze residue on my fingers would crystalize my kidneys and kill me. How long would that take? My mouth tingled. Maybe my tongue was crystalizing, signaling the disintegration of my cellular structure and sudden death. Arrived at gym alive. The substitute instructor was a small Barbie-shaped woman who laughed at her own jokes. She threw aside the microphone and chose to yell out the poses instead, leaving us all straining in place while chatting leisurely about proper positioning and yoga theology. Still, I felt a bit more optimistic as I left, having visions of magical morning yoga on the terrace of Lake George. Plus, the rolled mat would make a great pillow on the plane after I am flatly sedated by mini bottles of Bacardi. I hate flying. 

Contemplating chucking curry over the fence before pulling off my yoga pants and going to bed.

on an island in the sun...

We went out to the state fair after a morning of birthday shopping for my mom. Gavin enjoyed himself even though he is very serious, and Chris went into a manic frenzy. We all had a blast. I did not eat a fried twinky. Fleeced but happy, we headed home as the sun went down and the family (minus mother and Ron, who are on date) is watching cartoons with Subway sandwiches. Lovely. And I have no work tomorrow! Hellooo beach.

"You'd think my dentist was really good looking,"

"considering how much time I spend there." I signed in late to work. The kids were tugging at their leashes, waiting for the afternoon bell to set them free for the summer.

My morning was spent in the dentist's chair. As she jammed in biting blocks, drills, bits of cardboard, and minty goop, I imagined all the things I would rather have in my mouth. It took hours. I lifted my book and read snippets from the corner of my eye while the violent dental assistant attacked me with her sucky nozzle.

I almost hit a lady in an SUV pulling out of 7-11. She appeared out of thin air, probably pulling on to the main road from the fast food joint across the street as the road cleared at the same moment as me. She honked and braked and screamed out her open window, then tailgated me for 2 miles squawking and gesturing and honking until the road divided and she could zoom up beside me to yell at me. I looked at her sideways from behind my stupidly oversized glasses and sipped my Big Gulp. She looked nice enough, except for the frenzied cursing. Reminded me of a squirrel I had once startled, who chased through the park.

I arrived at school and the kids swarmed me, hugging me and shoving yearbooks into my hands for signing. One of my library regulars said goodbye with real tears in her eyes, leaving forever to a new school. I told her she was wonderful and waved her off. Spent the afternoon shelving and singing along to Janis Joplin.

Mike is sick. He is stuck on the couch with a pile of rented movies. I put on a dish of bread pudding with caramel whiskey sauce to bake, enjoyed tight hugs and hard kisses from my baby, and am getting ready for dancing tonight. Tomorrow I get to spend time in my empty library after a morning workout. I am pretty happy these days.


Gavin and Chris at party on Sunday:

Me with a borrowed child:

Memorial Day Weekend

I have already crushed my new bug-eyed sunglasses. I wore them anyway while I watched the school talent show, scooting away from the sun in the shade of the building as I sat on the steps with the office staff. The kids sang, smashed, and tumbled through the morning. One of the boys came out with a can of kerosene and a lighter, pulled off his shirt, and lit a double-ended torch for a fire spinning routine. Fan-freakin-tastic. His mother hung to one side with a wet towel, but he did not light his shorts on fire. "A huuuuuge improvement from last year!" the teachers said as they clapped wildly.
 

I really like these kids. From the older girls who hijacked the sound system to play Black Sabbath and Nirvana to the little guys who ran up and sang the "Llama" song ("did you ever see a llama kiss a llama on the llama llama's llama tastes of llama llama llama DUCK!"). They're cool.

Party
Memorial Day Weekend was a lot of beach, shopping, ice cream, zoo, sunscreen, movies, popcorn, and barbecue. Yesterday I cheated and bought bbq chicken plate lunches at Sam's Club instead of digging out the propane tank. On Saturday, tourists laughed at me for pretending to drag an enormous imaginary fish across the beach for illustration reference. Gavin and I napped in the car in the parking garage at Ala Moana, lips stained from shave ice after petting all the goats at the keiki zoo. Mike and I watched mindless action flicks. Leggy Redhead surprised me in the bathroom of the Spaghetti Factory while I was helping Gavin use the toilet. What a weekend.
 

1 month 4 weeks until vacation.

Spirit week

End of the year in a school library means mountains of books getting dumped at the library. Sometimes not just books, but calculators, spellers, digital equipment, teaching materials, and other miscellaneous items. During our staff party, the principal had an aside with me and said he thought it would be good for me to work on my next book so the kids could see the process. So I took a break from the book pile after a few hours of endless shelving and gathered up the materials for my dummy book. Once I had figured out how to rig it together without staples, I sat with my twine-bound book and taped the text in on all the pages, then started filling it in with rough gestures and action lines. With my handy-dandy camera propped on my desk, I jumped and crouched and pretended to pull invisible nets until I had enough reference to work with loosely. It's coming along, I can feel it. This one has promise.

The family is going to the water park today to celebrate my cousin's 4th birthday, while I am sitting at my desk in my yoga pants. This is Spirit Week, and I had been scroogishly ignoring the dress-up themes until today - Sports Day - when I decided to take advantage of the excuse to wear my Starbuck shirt ("Are you at least going to wear your yoga jacket over it?" No, mom). I was sure I would show up and be the only person in sportswear, but I am just one of many fools on this fine Thursday morning.

I'd still rather be at the water park. 

In other news, I am no longer carrotwoman. (I may have to do that again, just for fun.)

"I'm gonna hit you on the head, ok?"

There's something about rolling in the grass on summer evenings. Gavin got tired of sitting in Volcano Joe's and ran outside onto the lawn. He lobbed an imaginary ball at my head and I fell over dramatically, clutching my eye. A moth distracted him, and he ran across the grass after it, laughing, while I propped myself on my elbows and enjoyed the scene. College boys crowded on the deck, smoking cloves and cigarettes in the lamp light while one of the open mic guys rehearsed the blues on a steel guitar. Inside the cafe, I could see Mike thrashing away at his guitar. Gavin rolled up next to me and told me to lay on his tummy. We stared up at the twilight sky and pointed at stars and helicopters until he started giggling and bobbed my head off onto the grass. Nice evening.

The newspaper has been running columns all week on fighting fraud and financial abuse against seniors. The articles have a little logo of an elderly silhouette with a cane, and the title "Falling Prey". Ha ha.

In other news 

I was initiated into the national honor society for librarians this Sunday. There was not even a secret handshake. Disappointing.

sleep!

Gavin finally settled down in bed when the family arrived home from dancing. Hearing them, he bolted up and ran into his grandma's room, where he discovered his new video was nowhere to be seen. Apparently, he has inherited my mother's need to search obsessively for items until they are found. The two of them went up and down the stairs, poking their heads into our dark bedroom to ask if we had seen it every 3 minutes, jolting me out of sleep. Finally grannie couldn't stay awake any longer and sent him back to bed. Cozy under the blankets, we started to fall asleep, and then the cat leaped on us with all claws out and yowled in our ears. Mike threw him into the hall like a football (ok, he shooed him out and closed the door). Finally got to sleep.

The cats pulled me out of bed this morning and led me downstairs to feed them. I tied my hair up and stood in the kitchen listening to the rain outside. Xebo did a tap dance on the stove while I scooped out his food. His head has almost recovered from his last fight, he is itching to go outside again. Every time he feels better he sprints outside, straight onto the backs of whatever stray cat he can find. Then he spends the next week inside nursing his injuries and biting us for using pens around him. He hates pens.

I have nothing to say this morning, obviously, but I woke up half an hour early and I'll be damned if I do anything useful at 5am.

cold.

I finished entering my diet plan for the day and flipped off the computer. Put my shoes next to my purse. Went upstairs and kissed my sleeping family goodbye for the day. The remains of my self-made Mother's Day breakfast were still in the sink. The cinnamon buns I had baked were left all night on the stove. I threw them out.

The basics of Mother's Day still elude us -cook mom breakfast, clean up while she rests, make her a card - but the bigger picture is still there. Mike took me out to buy a new bikini, then let me roast on the beach while he played in the water with Gavin. I laid on my towel and wheezed, each breath a flaming outline of my lungs. You should not have to feel your lungs when you breathe. When we headed out to the steak house with my mom's sweetie, he stopped at his house and threw some packets of medicine at me. I have obediently consumed them, although I have no idea what they are. Dinner was great, my dietary resolve crumbled by crab-stuffed ahi in hollandaise sauce.

My voice was still gone this morning. 2 months, 2 weeks until vacation. My in-laws have only ever known me as that Pale Quiet Fat Girl. I've been working hard to get back to what I was before college and depression and pregnancy, and I wonder what they'll say. I dread it. It's like when you're too poor for new clothes and one day show up with a different pair of pants - everybody makes a big deal to tell you how great you look, which tells you exactly what they thought of you before.

I sat in the car and listened to the end of a song. I ran my fingers back and forth over the steering wheel to feel it and remind myself I'm alive. It's funny, spending so much of life trying to feel alive. Sometimes even the heartache of failing is enough to do the trick.