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We had a little after-dinner decaf latte and dessert last night and happened upon a local singer playing his guitar and harmonica outside the coffee shop. In one song he mentioned Mark Twain’s visit to Hawaii in 1866. I decided to find some of these letters from Hawaii and came across a NYT article with the excerpt below. I am curious to read more about the Hawaii that Twain visited.

“Many a different finger goes into the same bowl and many a different kind of dirt and shade and quality of flavor is added to the virtues of its contents. One tall gentleman, with nothing in the world on but a soiled and greasy shirt, thrust in his finger and tested the poi, shook his head, scratched it with the useful finger, made another test, prospected among his hair, caught something and ate it; tested the poi again, wiped the grimy perspiration from his brow with the universal hand, tested again, blew his nose — ‘Let’s move on, Brown,’ said I, and we moved.”

Sometimes I wonder about how others would perceive our parenting roles. For instance, while Dave enjoyed a massage on base, I took Sam mountain biking around base on a trail we enjoy running on as well, and also through some tank tracks out to the beach. Sam wanted me to go through puddles really badly, so I relented and went through a little one to, quite literally, test the waters. It wasn’t so bad, but because I went slowly, I allowed plenty of time for dirt and mud to accumulate on my legs and all over the bike. Sam thought it was pretty funny and kept saying “Mommy got dirty!” Dave met up with us at a playground right by the beach. It is so peaceful there. I also tried 4-wheeling the Xterra through the sand so that I wouldn’t lose my touch when we move back to snow country. I find that I am far more nervous driving in sand than snow. Of course, in snow you know there’s a road under you somewhere. With sand, I guess I have this notion that I’ll dig myself into an abyss and never get out. When Dave explained that you use the same techniques, and to give the truck more gas, I finally got us out of the deep stuff. So I drove confidently to the Exchange (where we were going to have a food court dinner!) and pulled into a parking spot. All of a sudden I felt a strange pull on the roof of the truck. I slowed down right away (instead of giving it gas – thankfully proper instinct kicked in!) and realized I’d parked under a nice shady TREE with my BIKE affixed to the ROOF!!! YIKES! All is well. We backed up and disentangled everything.

I find that I am very absent-minded now that my hair is shorter. I worry that some brain matter was cut off somehow. I am quite literally lightheaded. I noticed this yesterday, too. I have had trouble with simple math. I’ve been hopping into garbage bins and jumping up and down. Oh wait, that was a deliberate move to help clean up after major landscaping was done for our association of homes yesterday. That one was legitimate. But you can imagine how funny it must have looked to see a crazy guy with only two teeth (but a great smile!) wielding a huge (HUGE) machete to hack up the big palm branches while I was jumping around in a rubbish bin. I bet I’m a shoo-in for president of the assoc with these antics to keep everyone amused. I woke up early early this morning to chase down the garbage guys who have been inexplicably skipping our blue bins full of green waste. I followed all the rules. Nothing poking out. Not one frond. Three feet apart from the other bins. Out far enough in the street for him to grab with his automated grabber. Everything. In fact, i’d lined up 7 such bins for all the other homes to remove all that green waste the landscapers had gathered. It was imperative that the garbage guys pick it up today. I was on the phone with the manager of the refuse transfer station, she turned the guys around and had them come back. I heard them drive by AGAIN, so I called yet again. When I heard them come back, I literally flew out of the house and down the street. Thankfully this time he knew we were serious about those darn bins and I had a chance to thank him for picking them up. I waved (gave him the shaka sign) and smiled, hoping that would endear me to him despite all those calls busting him. I looked down the street and saw lots of retirees (they’re the only ones up and waiting to drag their bins in at that early hour) happily bringing in their blue bins. All of Kihapai St has me to thank today. 🙂