Bad mail

Rejection letter from King County. No moving to Washington next year.

Judgement for my bogus traffic violation: $97.

Down and kicked, dammit. At least I made some banana bread today, and Christmas has been packed away for the year.

Bah. Oh, well, so I'm trapped in Hawaii. Things could be worse I guess.

Poosie Nansie

Books, books, and books. Christmas was great, except that I ate too much chocolate and had a bad time with some Christmas spirits (the kind from the bottle, not from Dickens), and ended up sitting on the bathroom floor in the middle of the night, firmly telling myself that I was not dying. I would not throw up, I would not burst a heart valve, I would live. I just hate scotch a lot.

And I did live. "We won't see you for a week!" my mother said as I read my pile of new books, and then she kept interrupting me for the next three days. I read a few paragraphs while putting Gavin down for his nap. I found myself with a whole page uninterrupted this afternoon, and then Mike wandered out of the kitchen with a beer, pondering the meaning of life. I lowered my book an inch and stared at him. "I'm sorry, I'm bothering you," he said, and then he sat down to play the violin. After a few minutes, the terrible sounds he was making discouraged him, and he turned it over to pluck it like a guitar. I kept reading, resigned.

The book is Inconsolable, how I threw my mental health out with the diapers, written by a friend of mine on the joys of postpartum depression. It's a funny and sharp look at society's expectations of motherhood, and it was resting in the passenger seat of the car as we finally dragged our late and irritable bodies into the RSCDS Boxing Day party last night. The party hall has Art Deco architecture, with a wide fireplace and Frank Lloyd Wright lighting. I ended up outside on the terrace with the other mother, Nicole, watching our children hold hands and dance to the music. Nicole has two little girls, one a year older and one a year younger than Gavin. She is pregnant with a third. She homeschools. She is my age. Her husband elbowed Mike and told him he had better get cracking on knocking me up again. Nicole laughed about how angry she has been this pregnancy, smiling benignly down on the kids with hollow eyes. I kind of laughed, too, though I didn't find it funny at all. She watched her girls run shrieking in circles around Gavin, who reacted by lying on the floor and letting them use him as a hurdle. The younger of the two slipped on her small legs and clocked him solidly in the head with her boot. He waved his hands quickly and said, "No, no, I'm not hurt," as I stepped forward to check on him. "You have a boy, and my girls are so much rougher," Nicole said, trying to smile again. I thought about the book in the car, wondered what she would think of me pressing it into her hands and whispering, "Fuck Dr. Sears, Nicole."

But Christmas came and went again. Tonight I made a Thai curry out of leftover roast beef ("Oh, the roast beef!" Mike says; he loves large hunks of meat) and Polar Express has taken center stage on the television as Gavin nurses a holiday head cold. We had my aunt and her husband over for cornish game hens, the old tensions lubricated by the flow of wine. Gavin caught on to the mistletoe enthusiastically, distributing dozens of kisses. Chris stuffed as many cookies as he could fit into his face. Mike worked, but at least toted a pound of meat with him to the theater.
 

Burns Night is coming up, and I have been nominated to serve as Poosie Nansie, the bearer of the celebratory scotch to accompany the haggis. I get to wear a wimple for the first time, tactfully offset by a pushup bra, I think.



edited to add:

Fluffy stuff: Gavin was so inspired by the sight of Nicole's pregnant belly that he has been pushing chocolate into my hands, saying, "Eat, eat, mom! You need a fat belly too!" He thinks I will pop out a baby for him if I eat large amounts of candy. He may be slightly misled.

the Christmas Spirit

Yes, the Spirit is on the rampage the week before Christmas. It is evident in the fingers flipped in parking lots, the shoving in long shopping lines, the screaming of exhausted children, the angry honking of traffic. My mother and I, possessed by the Spirit, paused to yell helpfully at a group of loitering surfers, "Hey! We can smell your pakalolo from around the corner! Be careful!"

Safely back home, we drowned out the shrieks of the neighborhood children with our Peter, Paul and Mary holiday album, put on the kettle for cider, and ate stinky cheese with okole bread for dinner. The holiday lights are on, my mother and aunt are sipping chai and eating freshly made chocolate mice while the boys play around in the presents under the tree. My mother said the Christmas organ music on the stereo sounded like funeral music, which got them talking about Tchaikovsky. My aunt and cousin have been visiting more often to enjoy some holiday atmosphere as their house undergoes drastic remodeling. 

Gavin rode the kiddie train at Pearlridge today, sitting with his hands clasped on his lap, glowering seriously at the forest of Christmas baubles. I like how serious he is, I was the same way as a kid. Gavin hopped right off the train at the end and got back in line to do it again. He gave a little sigh as we led him away for lunch, but did not fuss. Love him.


Librarian news

I have a key. On Monday, I got into my new library for the first time, spending hours exploring the shelves, the circulation system, the budget reports, and the class schedules. I left at the end of the day feeling inspired and intimidated, making mental lists of books to buy and displays to arrange, worrying about organizing budget reports and coordinating book fairs. But, like everything, it will be one day at a time. I will not mess things up every day, and I have many librarians, organizations, and teachers to consult for advice. I just hope they don't mind a lot of questions while I get settled in. I have pulled out my favorite text books, highlighting authors and titles in my children's and YA lit books to check against the collection and noting program suggestions. It feel like I might love this job.

smooth

While I was in class, Gavin ran into Yuri's twin toddler neices at Costco.

"It was the cutest thing," Yuri's sister told me over dinner, "They were running around and around the fruit bins, and he would run off a little ways, then stop and act really cool, calling them over to him," she postured and beckoned with her hand.

I chuckled and we turned to Gavin. "Did you meet the little girls today?" I asked. "Uh huh," he said. "Were they nice? Did you like them?" I asked.

And Gavin did something I had never seen him do: he leaned on one arm, smirked, and waggled his eyebrows suavely. Cindy burst out laughing, "Oh, man! You are in for soooo much trouble!"

...

Sick and tired

Struggled to wake up from cold-medicine induced coma-insomnia. Can't sleep, but can't wake up. Hot shower, cold shills. Spilled butter on dress pants. Car broke down. Late for class. Listened to mom and Gavin chatter incessantly with a headache. Cold classroom.

blarg.

Did not dope myself up with dayquil. Yesterday I took some while driving, and I watched my pupils turn to saucers in the rear view mirror. Typed emails and term paper. Did not proofread. Hope I get a good grade.

Grad dinner tonight. Need dress. Headache.

Mad that some student was bothering Dr. Drew. Favorite professor. Wanted to hug him in class while dopey. Kept mouth shut so I wouldn't say anything stupid.

Headache.

Just listen to the rhythm of my heart

I set out on my own to do chores. Listening to the Darkness, I sat at a red light and picked up my my hair clip. The stereo screamed in a deafening falsetto and I tried to put my hair up before the light turned green. Twirled it up, clipped it crooked. Twirled it up, fell out of the clip. Twirled it up, clipped up like a cockatoo. Got mad and threw the clip across the car. The guy in the truck next to me was grinning. I tipped him a salute and peeled away.
 

In the mall, I snuck into the bookstore and took pictures of the children's display cases for my class project. I pretended to be only pretending to be interested in the sappy Christmas books.

In the dollar store, I loaded my arms with holiday crap. At the cost of our sanity, I deliberately purchased a silver jingle bell for Gavin, as he has been shaking a jewelry box for 2 days to pretend he had one. From the racks of tacky Christmas accessories, I pulled out a red and green hair tie with tiny tinkling bells sewn all over it. Oh, that will annoy the heck out of Mike, I thought, and threw it on the counter with the rest of my loot.

The Kanoehe library was full for a weekday morning. A group of uniformly dressed missionary boys stood by the new books display. I moved closer to them, eavesdropping. What do a pack of 19 year-old boys in church suits talk about at a library? One was bragging about his Rolex, explaining all the ways to detect fakes. Disappointing. My hair jingled, and one turned and looked at me. His name badge said "Elder William". I don't know the history of this "elder" business, but I need one that says "Old Crone Holly". Before my noisy hair could get me thrown out of the library by the reference librarian in the snowman sweater, I finished my homework and ran to the car. I waved at the cop shop and nearly drove into an oncoming van as I exited the lot.

Class was a smorgasbord of end-of-semester foods. We walked over to the cafe afterward to watch Mike sing and shovel pie into Gavin. Batting my eyes attractively at Mike, I inhaled a sip of diet Coke and coughed myself violently off the chair. "Real sexy there," he said. A classic Mustang sat next to our Jetta in the parking lot. Its deep metallic blue paint looked like candy under the street light. I ran my hands over it. Spread my arms across it. Mike looked sadly at the VW and bent into the trunk. "MIKE!" I yelled, hoping to see his head jerk up and hit the door. He screamed, "STOP DOING THAT!" But I need my hobbies.

Good day.

The windup

My cap and gown arrived at the door last night. I pulled out the packages, enjoying the crisp newness of the black gown, the plush yellow velvet of the Master's hood. "Please do not decorate your cap in a manner that obstructs the view of the people behind you," read the instructions. I imagined all the towering literary sculptures I could perch on my head, wondering how easy it would be to spell out "smart, lol" in masking tape. My mother fretted for a moment about missing my graduation in favor of a date with her long-time motorcycle-riding steady-gazed smart-ass crush, but I assured her that Mike would take lots of pictures.

I turned in my employment papers yesterday. I am a hired woman. To prepare, I have been digging up research articles about librarianship and dyslexia, and looking into library organizations for resources and support. These are my formative years, the time that I will become very good at something very specific. If I had been hired for the systems position, I would be getting into library technology and beefing up my knowledge there. With this job, I hope I'll become very good at running a small library, at enriching the lives of the kids I'll get to know every day, and using the experience to make great children's books. Maybe I'll end up specializing in books for children with reading disabilities and make some kind of difference.

And here I thought I had missed out on my banner-carrying years! I've got that mid-twenties optimism and inspiration. Hope I use it right.

Up in the air

A call for a second interview from King County threw a bit of a hitch into an otherwise easy decision. This pitted Mike's desires against my own, and I've already asked a lot from him. I feel my hands are tied by what I need to do to keep my family together and happy. I just don't know what that is.

In the movies, some people make hard decisions over drinks, others sleep on it, some take a brisk walk, and a few organize a rock-off. Me, I sat on the floor between the toilet and litter box and cried. Whatever my bathroom activities, Gavin reliably comes to check on me after about 30 seconds. He cracked the door open, made a concerned noise, and came to kneel next to me. He wiped my cheeks with both hands, "Oh, mom, you're crying?" I noticed that he gets worry lines between his eyebrows just like I do. "Don't be scared, mom," he said, smoothing the hair away from my eyes, "There are no monsters, mom. The monsters are all gone." He kissed my forehead and hugged me.

Then he pulled me into the bedroom, beat me with a stuffed goose, and jumped on my guts with his pointy knees, but I got the message.

No decision yet. I'm going to try sleeping on it. Maybe a brisk walk. No rock-off.

just my color

At the end of my shift at the library, I watched as Caton found a secure beam and did five or six pull-ups. I elbowed him aside and jumped up to see if I could manage one. "You're not supposed to use your legs," he said, pointing to my swinging limbs as I hoisted myself up with trembling arms. I managed to touch my forehead to the beam before dropping down. I looked around for applause, very impressed with myself, but Caton and Yuri were looking at their cell phones. The call slip machine croaked out another dvd slip, and Caton tore it off. "Hey," he said,"Someone's lucky, both the Kill Bills are in. You like that movie?" I smirked, because he referred to 2 films in the singular and because I have hated every movie he has tried to start a conversation over. "Actually, yes," I admitted, embarrassed to share a movie preference with someone who dyes his hair like Eminem. He beeped the barcode. "You could pull off that," he said. "What?" I hoped for a moment that my half-a-pull up had somehow shown my aptitude for ninja ass-whupping. "Her outfit," he said, holding up the disc. I blinked, remembering all the times I walked past the full-sized standee of Uma in her yellow catsuit outside the video store and grumbled to myself about donuts. I surprised myself by being suddenly flattered. The feminist in me wrung her hands. Well, the outfit in the movie is splattered with the blood of her enemies, that's pretty good, but you're responding to an unrealistic body image reinforced by male validation. Shame spiral! Bah. I have a pile of old katanas (can I pluralize that?) that need sharpening in front of Bridget Jones's Diary.

Birthday girl

26.

Mike and I spent the entire day around each other for the first time in months. It went okay. I was coaxed out from under the bed to answer two birthday phone calls, and our dance group toasted me twice over shots of scotch. I felt loved.

Ala Moana was busy with holiday shoppers. We looked for boots, stuffed into changing rooms to try on interview pants, and ate food court Thai food. I spent one of my three birthday gift cards, and we returned home with a sleeping boy over Mike's shoulder. While the kid napped, Mike and I got into the leftover liquor bottles abandoned by our Thanksgiving guests while I insisted on watching the stupidity of The Surreal Life because it was my birthday. My mother learned how to "bring it" like a diva, then Mike and I walked up to the store for peppermint sticks to decorate my cake. In the evening we went downtown for the RSCDS party.

We are beginning to worry about our Scottish dance society, as members have started fighting and quitting. My mother has been trying to solve the problem by bringing scotch to all our events. The real problem is our lack of unity; our parties used to be fun events with laughter, drinks, dancing, and food hosted in our homes. Now we meet at boxy churches and old dance studios and everyone sits around quietly like it's an extra class meetings. We have decided to try to bring some life back into our group by hosting a scotch tasting party at our house some time. We need younger members, but I don't know how to recruit. I've been dancing with these old goats since I was 12, I hate to see them falling apart.

 

Inventory

stayed up 3 days with my baby in the hospital
published my first book
submitted a second book to the publisher
started work on a third book
took 10 classes
started working weekends at Sinclair Library
wrote a 15 page term paper in 1 day
learned about stress-induced panic attacks
made 4 good friends
applied for 8 jobs
had 5 good interviews
bought a motorcycle
lost 7 sizes
had an unusual amount of relationship drama
ate the most crab I've had in years
developed a liking for kim chee
got back into art modeling
missed the bronze sculpture class for the first time in 4 years
spent half the year thinking I was already 26

 (how did I have time to do any of this? The year just flew by!)

Here's to year 27.