Stakin' Out the Steak Out

Hubby and I were starving after his doctor appointment. He fasted before blood work that morning, and I had walked for an hour. By lunch we were impatient and hungry. A light bulb blinked on in his head about a steak place. He told me they were quick, even though the place was packed, and we would get the food to go. They had just a few plates, and the menu was not extensive.

Picture this. I'm famished. Obviously he is too. He says STEAK to a confessed carnivore. He happens to like some nice steak places. In my mind I had an expectation or at least a general idea of the kind of establishment where we might stop. In his mind he thought we were going somewhere that would meet my hunger needs. So he pulls up here.

"This is where you're taking me?!?!????" I recognized the building. It's along the access road between Pearl Harbor Naval Station and Hickam Air Force Base. It's not anywhere that ever flashed EAT HERE at me. It reminded me of bar with no windows. The square sign reads "STEAK OUT Pearl Harbor's Best Kept Secret.

"You're gonna love it!" he announced. He jumped out of the car. I sat there with my mouth in an "O" shape, in shock. I might have followed him and dragged him back to the car, but Son2 was sleeping in the back seat.

I sat there thinking, ok, either way this is going to be something to blog about. Either I am going to love it, and it's going up on The Farmer Files, or I am going to hate it and it is so going up on The Farmer Files. I felt some consolation. I tried my best for a passenger seat shot from a weird angle. The shot was tough. The parking spaces were painted on the diagonal. People kept coming and going on my camera screen, but I finally snapped an exterior shot without any people. Well, some people must sure love this place because the door kept swinging open and closed, with folks carrying lots of take out bags.

Several minutes later Hubby returned. He swung out through the door, armed with take out. I suppressed any images of swinging saloon shutter doors from the old West. Again, he told me I was going to love it, with a confident smile.

We arrived home. I laid Son2 down for a nap in his crib while Hubby unpacked lunch in the kitchen.
He ordered the 21 ounce for him and the 11 ounce for me. We split the larger portion of meat, and still didn't finish. Rice, the Hawaiian food staple, and salad were snuggled into the box. They weren't anything to write home about. Now the meat, that was a completely different story. The meat was savory. It was a bit sweet, probably from shoyu, because it's used in all Hawaiian food. The meat was also peppery, tender, and juicy. It was surprisingly delicious. The Steak Out delivered a pleasing lunch, for lunch. It was what it was, lunch and not a high falootin'- tootin'-I'm-getting-a-babysitter-so-I-can-eat-steak-with-a-knife-in-peace, kind of place. It was definitely some place I am glad I tried, though.

A Papaya In the Hand Is Worth Two In the Bush (Or on the Tree)

Hubby and I differ in our opinions about picking the papayas from our trees. He likes to pick them when they are still green, just barely starting to turn yellow. I think they are too green, too hard, and will take too long to ripen. I prefer them to be golden. Besides, they are eye candy for potential buyers. I wouldn't let him pick one golden papaya until after our open house. Just what Hubby warned me about, happened. As in, I told you so. But he never says it. He just shakes his head.He said if I left the papaya on the tree the birds were going to get to it. He was right. I am not sure if it was a cardinal or a mynah.

In the song, The Twelve Days of Christmas, Local Style (the Hawaiian version of the song The Twelve Days of Christmas) the lyrics say:

Numbah One day of Christmas, my tutu give to me
One mynah bird in one papaya tree.

It is kind of sung with a Hawaiian pidgin accent. "Tutu" is the respectful way to say grandma in Hawaii. Well, this song has new meaning for me. I bet by the twelfth day of Christmas that mynah bird was sitting in that papaya tree with no fruit!!

What to Do About Father's Day??

Given the way Hubby's birthday went, I am not stressing over Father's Day. His birthday was a huge bust, but a good laugh weeks later.

It is impossible to surprise him. He knows what he likes. He's specific. He likes to pick out his gifts himself. And his sentimentality is limited. He doesn't treasure crafty or cluttery things. That must come from moving so many times. We go out to eat and he never hems and haws over a menu. He knows what he wants to eat by the time the waiter takes the drink order. He's not a big fan of surprises, anyway. On the other hand, he loves to surprise me. And I eat up the attention. Well, because I'm me. I always dream of surprising him, but he just says he's not into "that surprise stuff." Poo! So imagine my absolute delight when a postcard came from Top of Waikiki a few weeks before his birthday and he said, "Hmmm, Top of Waikiki, I've heard that's supposed to be a romantic restaurant. We'll have to get a sitter and try it some time. " A light bulb went off in my head. I finally could defy Farmer history and surprise him for his birthday.

First I called Top of Waikiki and made a reservation on Hubby's birthday weekend, not his actual birthDAY. Then I arranged a sitter a couple of weeks in advance. She and her whole family knew it was a surprise, and not to mention the date to Hubby. Next, I dragged Son2 dress shopping with me, and I tried on 24 dresses. (I took 8 garments into the fitting room 3 different times, that's how I know.) I picked a dress he would like (read: modest). Then my neighbor stopped by with a surprise that she had no idea would go perfectly with my dress. We walk together and we talk about our "problem areas." Except she has 5 kids and is a size 4. She came over all giggly with a wadded up bag. Out popped a pair of underwear with a six inch tummy sucker girdle band and choke hold material. She bought one for me and one for her. Oooh perfect. I told her they would look so smashing under my dress for Hubby's birthday. Well now there was someone else in on the surprise.

Hubby's actual birthDAY was spent at a chain restaurant, as a family of four. At first, the host thought to sit us in a booth in the bar area. He smiled and proudly held out his hands. I scowled. We were the only folks with children.
"No, we can't sit here."
"You can't sit here?!?"
"No, it's not worth the dirty looks from people without kids. We need to sit in the main area."

Reluctantly, he sat us in an already busy section with families. Woo hoo!!! Hubby plucked the children's menu from the table. "Son1 is having chocolate milk, because it's MY BIRTHDAY." Yeah, I never let him have chocolate milk because I'm too fearful of starting that habit. But when Daddy's alone, it's chocolate milk and chocolate shakes all around. I'm never happy about that.

Son1 clutches chocolate milk for dear life knowing Mommy is not a fan.

Dinner was loud, which we expected. Son2 (all of 14 months old) ate an entire children's menu plate, ate off our plates, plus the snacks I brought for the wait. Whew! Late in the meal Son1 stood up and announced to our table, and those around, "I GOTTA GO POOP!" Usually I jump up at those moments, but those two were sitting together, and closest to the potty. So off they went. And when they came back Hubby was shaking his head. Remember the host who wanted to seat us in the bar area? Apparently he was in the bathroom (Hubby checked out his shoes) doing his business while Son1 was finishing his. There were enough audible noises from the next stall that Son1 shouted at the top of his lungs, over and over, "HEY DADDY! HE'S GOING BIG POO POOS!!! HEY DADDY! HE'S GOING BIG POO POOS!!! OOHH IT'S STINKY!!!" So we paid our bill shortly after their return to the table, and high tailed it out of there.

Now I told you Hubby's selective. We drove to a bakery for him to pick out his own cake. It was a strawberry shortcake, and I picked out the Spiderman candle, because we are all about superheroes here.

The night wasn't quite the ideal birthday celebration. We went to bed late after watching a movie. I giggled to myself knowing I was going to Top of Waikiki the next night. Well, so I thought.

The next morning we were awakened by our bright eyed children at 530am. There was no way either one of them was going back to sleep. SIGH. Hubby left for his tennis match 45 minutes later. He was back, we were off to breakfast, a few yard sales, and then a birthday party. In every one of our conversations Hubby kept singing to us "It's My Birthday Weekend" as obnoxiously as I have for the last ten years of marriage. Annoying. Eww. I ignored him.

We all went to the birthday party. The party was tons of fun, but it was so hot and not air conditioned. It was held inside a huge warehouse with several bouncy houses. Everyone was sweating. It was so sticky. Hot and Sticky. By the time we got out of there, we were totally wiped from being so hot and sticky.

Down the 30 foot slide together

Future gladiator

Hubby offered to pick up Thai food on the way home. "NO!!!!! I mean...nooo. I'm just not in the mood for Thai food..." And then he started singing his birthday weekend song. SIGH. NO.

He had to go to Costco to pick up my Mother's Day Gift, he said, so maybe he and Son1 should just pick up dinner for us....didn't I feel like something from the food court? "NO!!!!! I mean...nooo...." You know what came next, that birthday weekend song! Eww. So I laid it on thick. I was tired. We went to bed late and got up early today. I was hot, sticky, and wanted a shower. How about if we just went to bed early? The next day was Mother's Day, and it wasn't going to be much of a Mother's Day for our family with church, brunch, and Bible study. Why couldn't we just have a nice romantic dinner at home, with sleeping children, and go to bed early??!?!? And besides, his birthday had passed. When was Mother's Day going to start???

He caved. Ok. All he asked was that I preheated the oven when he called from Costco, and he would make me a romantic dinner at home. Perfect. He left, and I scrambled to put Son2 to bed, and ready myself. He called twice to make sure I preheated the oven. Of course, I never turned it on. So he walked in, I flew down the stairs, but he reached the oven first. He shot me this look, and before he could say anything, I blurted out that I got a sitter and it is surprise for his birthday, and besides, he didn't really think that our family dinner was his birthday dinner, did he? SIGH. "Well, I wish you would have told me," he started to say slowly. "I bought all of this food for Romantic Dinner, and you had me going with being so tired, and I am so tired too...".
Well, she was coming at 7:30, I replied, but I didn't tell him where we were going.

About 6:30, I started to get nervous. Hubby was putting together an electric car set with Son1, and wasn't going to be done any time soon. I didn't have the constricting underwear on yet, or the dress. "You're going to need to hurry, because it's going to be a drive, and you need to get ready." There was a bit of pushiness in my voice. He looked at me blankly. "Aren't we just going to Assaggio's?" That's our favorite Southern Italian restaurant. See, I told you he always knows what he wants. Well, no. Didn't he say we should go to Top of Waikiki sometime? I had made an 8:30 reservation. As the words came out of my mouth, I could see absolute pain across his face. I knew what he was thinking. It's a drive there, a drive back, and dinner was going to be anything but short. "You had me convinced about being so tired, all I can think about is how tired we are," he said gently. I knew he wouldn't cancel dinner, and he would have been a good sport, and I really wanted to go. Now it was my turn to cave. I suggested we just go somewhere nearby. We could try Assaggio's, but I didn't think we could get in without a reservation. So that's just what we did. And the line was out the door at Assaggio's. We ended up at Ruby Tuesday's, in my regular underwear and capri pants. No dress. No Top of Waikiki. I don't really care for that restaurant, but Hubby does. It was uneventful. And the other gifts I got him? Thoughtful, but not what he really wanted. I ended up returning them.

This brings me to Father's Day. Part of me wants the whole fanfare, the whole tah-dah, the whole shock and awe over gifts. The whole thank-you-so-much-for-thinking-of-me!! But you know, that's just not him. He is totally unimpressed. You know what works well? I usually ask him what he wants, and then Son1 and I go shopping for his gifts together, and he acts so grateful and surprised for what he already knows he is getting. That's him. But maybe I can still sneak something sentimental in there....

Look What I Found!

I had to get to my car before my husband. Tomorrow our family is taking the Superferry from Oahu to Maui for Memorial Day weekend, and my car is going, too. And he has this thing for clean cars. Ooooh and he gets that silent frustration over the Mommy-mobile. Rocks in My Dryer is hosting a clean out your car carnival, and list your treasures. Now let me qualify this by saying I have a minivan (read: lots of room for treasures to get buried) and I live on an island (read: must have all kinds of crazy necessities available at all times in the event of an emergency SAHM mental health beach day, emergency child crisis, or emergency unlikely tsunami). So here is what I found:

• 1 pair of my fancy shoes (left in the car, because I was walking in my house barefoot, like everyone else on the island, good reason to leave in the car!)
• 3 bottle caps to water bottles
• 1 Costco coupon booklet
• 1 hairbrush
  
• 1 opened hand lotion
• 2 almost finished 50 oz bottles of water
• 1 almost finished 16 oz bottle of water
• 1 macy's receipt
• 1 Elmo toothbrush
  
• 1 Lightening McQueen ball cap
• 1 beach hat
• 1 package of baby wipes
• 1 baby powder (excellent for removing sand from your children at the beach, it falls off)
• 1 nail clippers
• 1 Robeez (other is in the house)
• 2 sets of Mickey Mouse birthday ears
• 1 tube of sunscreen
• 1 lonely wooden block
• 1 prized Bear (that's his name, he is Son2's lovie)
• 1 portable high chair that needs to be cleaned
• 1 swimmer diaper size small (way too small for my 14 month old)
• 1 hard copy address book
• 2 life jackets
• 1 inflatable wand
• 4 Costco photo envelopes
• 1 pair of scissors
• 1 empty water bottle (see I do actually finish them)
• 1 yard of metallic green material
  
• 1 votive candle holder
• 1 lonely cheerio
• this week's dinner menu list
• 2 kickboards
• 2 liter rubbermaid container for water
• medical forms
• baby hat
  
• teether
• 2 stroller buddies
• 1 diaper a size too small now

I split 6 books in the seat pockets behind the driver and passenger seats for my kids because they have so far to sit in a car on an island and read books. Well, they really do actually both think they are reading. I took out two crinkly soft books because Son2 won't read those now. He thinks they are too babyish for him, even though they are fancy. HA! He will only read board books.

Clean out your car today! What's in YOUR car?

Bringing Down the Neighborhood

We received a letter, sent certified mail, signed by an attorney, that we were in violation of the regulations set forth by our homeowner association. Technically, it was true. Our purple ground cover exceeded four inches. Anything that is not a tree cannot exceed four inches in height at the curb. Practically everyone we know receives one of these letters every few months. We all are like-minded; this Code of Perfection is a waste of our homeowner money. My neighbor received a similar certified letter with a picture dated 2006 for a violation that had been removed two years ago. She was mad. The cost of attorney fees and certified mail was a complete waste. The far more irritating point is that they do nothing about folks who keep boats in their driveways or on the street, or work trucks parked on the street. That is a much larger violation, literally. The homeowner association is so inconsistent! We are all for living in a nice neighborhood, and a reasonable homeowner association code, but that is not the way it works in our association.

Our home had to meet the Code of Perfection before the previous owners could sell it. The same ground cover was there, healthier, and more abundant, and passed the sacred Code. Then, last year, my neighbor's plants violated the sacred Code and crept over to our purple ground cover. We were told by the Inspectors of Perfection that if removed the neighbor's plants we could keep the purple ground cover. Well, now we were boring. We did what they told us to to. Our purple ground cover was four inches in most places along the street. SEE? But parts of the ground cover were a little thick. The camera is deceptive. The highest part of the ground cover was six inches. (The green shoot is a remnant of my neighbor's heliconia plant with an evil root system.)

The language in the letter was pretty intimidating. We either trimmed it, or they would fix it, at our cost. Needless to say, Hubby called Inspector Central and explained the same ground cover has been present since we moved in, and since we were last told we could keep it. Inspector said it needed to be cut anyway. Hubby hung up, armed himself with his weed whacker, and attempted to cut back our ground cover. But you can't really trim ground cover. First, we ended up with brown sticks. It looked junky. So he figured this was better. That lasted all of one day. Next we spent $230 for this little strip. Sod is SO expensive in Hawaii. Most people use grass plugs, or patches of grass that eventually grow together, or hydroseed (grass on steroids) which takes several months. But this was quick, fast, and a solution.
Now that it is done and over with, guess what? WE LOVE THE NEW GRASS!

Proof They Were Here

Sometimes there are little things we tend to overlook when we have company, like children drinking out of soda cans. Truthfully, he never actually drank out of a soda can. We were all doing our best to encourage Son2 to drink out of anything. The cans were always empty when he put them to his lips. But when we were alone in our home again, with just our little family it started to bug me. I thought I was just going to absolutely fall over when Hubby came up with a solution, no more soda in our house! I have tried to encourage that for years! So I must thank my in laws for pushing our home in a soda free direction!

SBS Open

In the spirit of some serious, uh hem, civic duty and volunteerism, Hubby enthusiastically donated his time at the SBS Open, a LPGA golf tournament, held at the beautiful Turtle Bay Resort. This is the 2^nd year in a row he helped. Last year he had an amazing time. He followed around a threesome of professional lady golfers up close and took notes of their game. When he was doing his assigned job, he kept score and all of their statistics including greens in regulation, sand saves, fairway hits, you know, the real golfy kind of stuff. He was all about the complimentary golf pass they awarded him at the Turtle Bay Resort, the free passes for friends and family, his golf attire, plus free food and snacks…need I say any more F-R-E-E?

He arrived at the LPGA tournament this year with sweet and high expectations for two fun filled golf days. (Well, as fun as it gets chasing folks around that are chasing a little ball with a stick. You can see I am not the golfer in our family.) But not all golfers are alike. Last year all six players he interacted with were super friendly, thankful, and gracious. Each woman golfer and each caddy introduced themselves before the play started and thanked him for volunteering and helping them out. They recognized him. They each gave him a signed new golf ball from their personal bags.

This year, the first day round started with Soo-Yun doing her thing. The other two ladies, Patrica and Karine (whom he has dubbed The Frenchies) didn’t even knowledge his existence. At the end of the round, Soo-Yun gave him a Titleist ProVX ball and thanked him. The other two French women said nothing. His partner who held the scores up in the air said that he wasn’t expecting anything because of his previous trips to France.

He was a little down until the next day when he had an amazing time. He followed Jane Park and two others who were good players and placed in the top 10 and they were very courteous and thankful. The real question is whether he will be back next year…of course he will. He may even venture out and also try the men’s PGA tournaments too.

A Partisan Adventure

Rest assured our family was at the voting poll yesterday. This is our first Presidential election year in Hawaii. As always, I brought my camera to take pictures of the kids because, after all, I want pictures of their first voting moments in the event I have birthed a future President. On my sister's recommendation, I called the Office of Elections for Oahu. I asked for my polling location for the primary election. The lady on the other end asked if I meant the caucus election. I hesitated for a moment. This time she stated it as a fact. "You mean the caucus election." She asked for my social security number, and asked me to verify my street address. Oh, District 38. She relayed the polling location. Then I asked polling hours. My poll opened at 6pm, voting began at 7pm, and the poll would not close any earlier than 7:30pm. That sounded very odd.

Hubby got home, and we planned to vote after dinner. But before we left for the polls, I received my third call from Hillary Clinton, herself, in three days. This time I figured we were old pals. I shouted "HI HILLARY!" at the recording before hanging up.

Remember how I said Son2 goes to bed by his choice, not mine, in the 6pm hour? We dressed him in his shark pajamas, knowing we would get back after bedtime. I spent a little time with Son1, explaining we were going to vote. He repeated it again, saying "we were going to boat." We get on a boat pretty often, so I clarified that we were going to vote, and explained a little about voting. After voting he could have my sticker for show and tell at school. Soon we piled everyone in the car, I grabbed my camera, and we found our way to the polling station at ten minutes to 7. People were out in droves. Even though the poll wasn't open, we still had to park three blocks away, and walk. We finally got to the polling station. People were wrapped around the building, down outside hallways, and around the back. The line was forming to the left of the crowd, but I made my way on the right side, and took my place. I looked back. No Hubby. I called his cell. I was now in line, and probably another 100 people had fallen into place behind me, with more coming. He had my driver's license stashed in his wallet. More people came into the line. Ring! More people. Ring! Finally he emerged in my view and answered his cell, but I could no longer see the end of the line with all of the people. I told him I was at the end of the line. "No, you are not at the end of the line. You now have cut off about 500 people. You are not at the end of the line." Now that was a bit of an exaggeration. Perhaps the number was closer to 150. It had to be less than the people at our wedding, which is generally how I gauge numbers of people. Finally we settled into our place in line, and I pulled out my camera to take pictures of our family. I explained to those around me why I take pictures of my kids at elections. A handful of people thought this was funny, and someone offered to take our picture.The boys started to get a little restless, so I started to play little games with each of them. We jumped off sidewalk curbs, and used the empty water bottle like a drumstick. Hubby started to wonder if our vote was really going to matter. He kept looking at his watch. He leaves for work every morning around 5:30am. We were inching closer to the door, but it was getting later and later. Our polling station served two entire districts. WOW. Most every time I voted the polling station was within blocks of where I lived. This was something new. Also, when I voted in Presidential election years in both California and Virginia, there seemed to be a buzz at the polls. Here, there was definite buzz. But it was not political. The buzz felt more like a family reunion, a local aloha, of sorts. I found out why, later.

The majority of the line snaked around outside. We finally could see the double doors ahead to the entrance. The line split in two for each district. Hubby tapped me on the shoulder. He announced that this was a caucus election...and not for our party. I asked him if he was sure. I had Googled the election information, and I had called the Office of Elections. In California and in Virginia it doesn't matter what political party you are registered with, everyone votes on the same day at the same polling station. But not in Hawaii. The lady behind me confirmed that this was a single caucus election. Apparently, my party doesn't participate in a caucus election. In other words, there is no February election in which I can participate. My first opportunity to vote will be in September in the primary election. This election was to elect a candidate to be the other party's nominee. Uh oh! Hubby urged us out of line. We thought we could be in stealth mode in the dark, and sneak out of line. The nice lady behind me promised that if either of my sons was elected President one day no one would ever know their picture was taken at a polling station where their parents never voted. I thanked her graciously, and we started inching our way out of line. We thought everything was ok until Son1 started belting out, "No MOMMY! I want to go THIS way! I want to go VOTE!" SIGH. We high tailed it back to our car, hauling a super sad Son1 by the hand. We got in the car, and Hubby thought for a moment. "This calls for a milkshake," he grumbled. Everyone's sentiments exactly. So everyone had a really late bed time and a milkshake, just to commemorate the occasion. So many people everywhere was completely exhausting. Later we found out that the caucus vote drew nearly 35,000 people, seven times greater than the last caucus.

Here is a trip down memory lane, for those of you who knew me back in the day when I voted at the Kingstowne Library. There is a 2.5 month old Son1 and me, and yes, I dressed us in red and blue on purpose.

Toilet Trouble!

Yesterday Son1 stalled for a nap. My patience was dwindling while supervising his last potty attempt, and he could sense it. "Mommy, you go OUTSIDE!! You go on the computer and I do potty all myself!!" I told him he had five minutes. Now, he is unsupervised in the potty all of the time. He is totally capable of getting his business done, redressed, and washing his hands. On those days when he stalls, though, I hang out just to make sure no funny business happens. Lately, he has enjoyed the whole idea of privacy, so I figured that maybe, just maybe, this was a little case of privacy and not playing in the bathroom. I left the door open to his bathroom. We have this little built in office alcove under an arch just outside of his bathroom. I really was only just a few feet away.

The toilet flushed. WOW he really did get it all done in five minutes. Then I heard the water. It sounded like he opened the faucet all the way. SHRIEK. "MOOOOMMMMMMMYYYY!!!!!!" SHRIEK SHRIEK. Oh no. Had he burned himself???? I jumped up and found an overflowing toilet just cascading all over the bathroom at bullet speed. I grabbed some bathtub pitchers and scooped and scooped and scooped water from the bowl and tossed and tossed and tossed into the bathtub. I glanced at him as he started to cry, but my eye caught the brown cardboard tube. "Did you shove toilet paper down the toilet?" "Yes." Ugh. Shreds of toilet paper were floating to the surface. Scoop, dump, scoop, dump. All the while water is still cascading....cascading like a water fall. The rugs were completely soaked. I looked at him, said his full name, and told him to wait for me in his room on his bed. "Mommy!!" I repeated myself again in as calm of a voice as I pictured Hubby using, because hardly anything shakes that man. I am trying to take lessons from him. Son1 defeatedly turned and slipped on the wet granite, and wailed. "Mommy!" Scoop, dump, scoop, dump. Aaaaggghh!!!

Calmly, sternly, I repeated myself again. He disappeared in the direction of his room. I looked down and the water stopped churning upward. It settled. It was at a reasonable level. Maybe it was over. I grabbed the two rugs Flylady had me wash earlier. Well, I was an over achiever. I washed these rugs in addition to the others she asked me to wash. I had swept and mopped this very floor earlier. I threw those rugs in the bathtub and looked at myself in the mirror. I was totally soaked. Totally.

I walked into Son1's room, and got him settled for a nap. "Mommy, you're happy?" I shook my head. "No, mommy is very, very sad." And wet. I recounted the event from beginning to end. "No, mommy YOU'RE HAPPY!!" I warned he had better take a nap and not get up.

I left his room, and scooped all of the wet towels and wet rugs and made a couple of trips down to the laundry, and tried to reorder the bathroom a little. But the afternoon just flew by with Son2 waking up from his nap, and Son1 asking to come out, though he never napped. Hubby called. I told him a little of what had gone on. Oh. He wanted to know if he could play some tennis after work. I reminded him I had a meeting to attend that evening. He offered to cancel, but a little guilt crept over me. Go, I told him.

By the time he got home, we were like two passing ships. I was putting Son2 down for bed. Son1 was fed, and was ready for bedtime. Before he went upstairs he asked if I had plunged the toilet. Well there was this little miscommunication. He thought I had said yes. He was listening for a one word response. But I told him that the water level had stabilized and that the toilet had stopped spewing. He took that to mean yes. So you can only imagine what happened after the toilet flushed. Yup. It happened all over again, and I needed to leave. Fortunately neither time involved #2. Hubby just looked at me and said, "Were you on the internet when he flooded the toilet?" And you know what I said?

"Now, you don't think I would have let him just do that with me standing there, do you??" There you go. One more time he was looking for a one word response, and he got a string of words. But Hubby is a lot faster at these messes. He had that bathroom reordered in a matter of minutes. That didn't make it any better, though.

People say that raising kids just goes so quick! And it does. It really does. But when you are in the moment, it sure can feel like forever.

Soccer Surprises

Son1 has been talking up soccer, and takes note when he sees soccer practices or games. Son1 really hit the I-wanna-play-soccer button recently. Hubby took him out for some one on one soccer for the first time. Sure, we have played kick the ball back and forth, but never any serious footwork. And kicking the ball back and forth with me is one thing. Playing with his dad is a whole other story. Hubby used to coach high school soccer. He played on adult leagues, and was selected to start on the War College Varsity Team in 2003. So when Hubby came home and said Son1 showed some potential, I listened.He is almost old enough to play on a team. We hope his interest holds up. If not, there is always chess.

Driveway Sharing

We had agreed I was taking Son1 to gymnastics this morning. After I put Son2 down for a nap, I looked over the upstairs railing. Hubby had the front door open, ready to take Son1 to gymnastics. I put up a little fuss, but he insisted. The front door closed. I never heard my car start, though. Hmmm....I dialed his cell phone. Had he left? No answer. Well, maybe he was waiting for my second protest, and he was still in the driveway. I ran down the stairs and made my way down the driveway. He was standing there, with two men in ties.

The three men looked up when they saw me, awkwardly. I had interrupted their conversation. Son1 was strapped in his seat. He was waiting patiently, but there was a visual lesson he was learning about who his dad is and whom he serves. "Ohh," I stammered. "I was wondering if you wanted me to take Son1." Hubby winked at me, and assured me he would take Son1 to gymnastics. I retreated to the house, as the two men reached out, and shook Hubby's hand. One said, "Thanks for the chat, my friend."

A minute later the house phone rang. The caller ID said it was Hubby on my cell phone. If he was going to sit at gymnastics, it was no wonder he took my phone. I am the one with internet access. He shared with me a bit about his conversation with these men.

Since we have moved to Hawaii we commonly have people who share from a few different religions come to our door. We have made a practice to stop and talk to these people, with somewhat of an agenda:

1. We give them our time. These folks are out sharing with many people. When they are talking to us, it is our belief that they are not spending time misleading others. These visitors, or more importantly, these guests, understand that we genuinely want to hear what they believe, and have the time to understand where they are coming from.
2. Our hearts are softened toward them. We are saddened that they do not have an assurance of salvation. We believe the only way to heaven is through a personal relationship with Jesus Christ. All those that have knocked on our door, sharing of their faith, have believed that we must earn our salvation, and that God has not extended this invitation to everyone. We have been told we must be careful, because only 144,00 will ever be saved, or we may not achieve the highest terrestrial level of heaven.
3. We offer to pray for them. We genuinely do care about them, and their souls.
4. We share out of obedience. Jesus commands us to in the Bible. It is not out of any type of super ego or personal gain. It is not because we want to argue or have the upper hand in any discussion. We share because we love Jesus.

We have met so many interesting folks. Some have come back to chat, and brought others from their congregation. Only a couple have gotten angry. Most of these guests we meet once, and we have no idea if we will ever meet them again. And that is a risk we take. We have no idea how God will choose to use us.

Kiholo Bay

One morning while on our trip, we gave Son1 a few options on how to spend our day. He asked to go on a hike. We got out our guide book. Kiholo Bay looked relatively close. Relatively is the operative word. A saltwater bay with freshwater floating on top, turtles, and a lava tube with a fresh water spring 80 feet from the ocean intrigued us. The guide book even stated we could take an alternative path and drive much of the way. What could be better with two small kids, right? So we decided on a bit of a later morning start. We took the smooth gravel road from the main highway almost straight down to the ocean. We walked some yards from the parking area and were met with this sweet sight:

At the time we were not totally aware that behind us was the far side of Kiholo Bay.

That's me on the black sand beach.

Son1 entertained himself much of the way skipping white coral pieces into the ocean. We walked and walked for a long time until we came to this big yellow house loaded with security cameras, tennis courts, and guards. It belongs to the guy that invented the pacemaker. Now this was more than a house. It was more like a compound. I couldn't get the whole house in the picture...this is about a quarter of it. The house actually spans the entire frame behind the palm trees. See the little guy in red? Just to give some perspective on the enormity of this house.We walked for a little more and came upon this house, another house that wouldn't fit in the camera frame. It is owned by the guy on TV that runs the Paul Mitchell hair products.

He paid 200 Balinese workers $1.50 a day for two years to create the intricate carvings and build the house. He then had it taken all apart, and had it shipped to Kiholo Bay. The big green logs from the Borneo rain forest shrank and split in Hawaii,

By this point Son1 was getting tired. But I was in denial. He ran over and sat down right in the front garden.

Those big round things we are perched on are coconuts. We walked a while more and we looked out on Kiholo Bay. It was still quite a walk to the ocean inlet, and we had traipsed a mile across the rocky coastline with two little guys. Hubby peered at me with eyes squinting at the sun and suggested turning around. Son2 was trying his best to take a nap, but couldn't find rest. Without hesitation, but with disappointment in my voice, I agreed. No ocean inlet. No turtles. No mix of saltwater and freshwater. He asked if I was upset. Nope. Not at all. Life is just different with the little guys. And life has its limits. We weren't too far now, maybe just another half mile. But the kids are more important than turtles and an ocean inlet. No worries. We will see more in another season of our lives. We were just about to come upon the yellow house, when Son1 eyed some flat rocks covered in coconuts. He pushed the coconuts aside and....

Hubby and I couldn't just let him rest like that! Hubby had an idea. My backpack would make a great pillow. We gave him just a few more minutes of rest, because we still had a long walk back. He got his hike, alright!

After a bit of a breather, we pressed on along the black shoreline. On the way back, a group of local folks were gathered around by their different 4WD vehicles with music blaring, blocking my view to something behind them, about 80 feet from the ocean. So I kinda casually walked up, with Hubby and the kids following...and was greeted with a "HOWZIT!" (Local for: How is it going?) I looked below and I found what I thought I had missed, Queen's Bath! The Queen's Bath is a super clear waterhole, lava tube bath, made of fresh spring water, not ocean water! The water level rises and falls each day with the tides, though. There is a wooden ladder that drops from the top of the lava tube down to the bottom of the clear spring. It is attached to a dry lava tube cave where you can find petroglyphs in the dry cave. It has two openings to the sky. I am sitting in one below.

Lava tubes are a characteristic of young, growing islands. That's why you primarily find the good lava tubes on the Big Island, the youngest of the islands.

So the locals were so cool with me getting in with my clothes on since I didn't have my swim stuff on, but you know...again, it just wasn't meant to be in this season of our lives.

These Farmers DO NOT Grow Ears of Corn!

It happened before my very eyes, as in literally less than 3 feet from me. Son1 had an unpopped kernel of popcorn in his hands, and in less than 2 seconds, he put the kernel to his ear, and cried, "Oh no, Mommy!" I gasped. As if frozen in place, I called for Hubby in the next room. "He just shoved a popcorn kernel down his ear!!" And Hubby, not one one to become easily alarmed, really questioned the situation. So he asked Son1 if he had a popcorn kernel shoved down his ear. Poor little guy. He didn't know what to answer, but his eyes gave him away. He wasn't sure if he was in big trouble. So he put his finger in his ear and gave it a good twist. No, no, no!

My gut tightened and a memory from about 27 years ago flashed in my mind. There I sat, in the emergency room on a bed, held down by a couple of nurses in my red Christmas pajamas, with 2 emergency room doctors dousing my ear canal with first cold water, and then warm water. My mom looked on with glassy eyes, not letting a tear fall. I knew Son1 was telling the truth. Once upon a time I snuck some pearl earrings of my mom's into my pierced ears. The stone was loose and fell down my ear canal. When Son1 put his finger in his ear he unintentionally shoved the kernel down farther down the canal. I could just feel it in my gut.

Hubby peered down that little canal, and sure enough, about half an inch from the opening peeped out the pointy tip of the kernel. Hubby cocked Son1's head toward one side and tried to give it a good shake. Nothing. He fetched some tweezers that are about 6 or 8 inches long and Son1's eyes got really wide. I pulled him up in my lap, held back his flailing arms, and pinned his legs. Hubby tried several times to steady the tweezers and go down the canal, but Son1 would not have it. We became frightened that if Son1 moved just so, we might rupture his ear drum. I suggested we go to the emergency room a few times. But Hubby thought he might dislodge the golden problem from Son1's ear on his own. Besides, the doctors would probably start with tweezers. If Son1 wasn't going to sit still for us, he was MOST DEFINITELY not going to sit still for strangers. Sigh. I just wanted this to be over.


The kernel was lodged past the (b) above. The tip of the kernel that we could see from the outer ear was past the (b) point.

We tried for several minutes to get him still enough to use the tweezers in his ear. We tried bribing him with a lollipop. I sang Frosty the Snowman to distract him. We hugged him. We loved him. We prayed for God to protect him. We threatened him with growing a cornstalk out of his ear, and popcorn popping out of his body. Nothing convinced him. Hubby suddenly thought to vacuum the kernel out of him. No, that would be too loud. Well, how about if he tried to suction it out of his ear? So he tried three times. He took three deep breaths, and made three attempts to vacuum up the kernel with the force of his deep breaths. Nothing. So we tried again to convince him that the only way was to use these tweezers to get the kernel up. Besides, we could see the kernel's little tip. We could get it out if he just allowed us. We pretended to pluck something out of Son2's ear. Then Daddy's ear, and then Mommy's ear. Come on, let's just try. It won't hurt.

"NO DADDY!" Son2 grabbed his Daddy's face and pulled it close to his nose. "YOU KISS MY EAR! YOU KISS MY EAR!" So, I thought quickly. "Ohhh. He wants you to suction it out of his ear, again!" Skeptically, Hubby agreed. So with all of his might he made a suction with his mouth and drew in deep breaths. Over and over. What do you know, that little kernel budged! Slowly that little tip became more visible. Then it started to poke out. It was working!!! So Hubby tried over and over and up it came. Son1 enjoyed the counter pressure as the kernel became dislodged. His crumpled little mouth started to straighten, and then finally turned up some corners. "Again Daddy! Again!" The plan was to get the kernel up to the mouth of the ear canal, and use tweezers to pull it out. The kernel appeared larger and larger in the canal as it crept up. Hubby reached for his tweezers. "NO DADDY!! YOU KISS MY EAR!" So Hubby gave me an optimistic look, pulled the skin around Son1's ear tightly to expose the kernel. He suctioned more and more with his deep breaths. Finally, even though we were all expecting it, we all stared in disbelief when out popped that kernel!

Hoorray! Daddy was thrilled and so was Son1. My stomach loosened from its tightened state. We had a little talk again about not putting things down any body orifices, and let him pick up the kernel with some tweezers. No more corn or popcorn of any kind for our family, any time soon!

Back in the Beltway

Hubby barely squeaked out a win....maybe it was an early Christmas present...ha ha.

The third mama to ask us about an arranged marriage, and Son1 was barely weeks old. We would be honored. :)

Thanks for great dinner and conversation...next time if Wifey comes we WILL play HEARTS.

Thanks for lunch....it was yummy. Looks like summer, huh? The next day it looked like this:

Freezing! Great food, and even greater gaming.


Ranger Buddies

A picture of the fairy godmother that landed us in Hawaii. Aloha....


Look at that alphabet...JDP, CPA. CONGRATS. Thanks for driving down.

Christmas Fumes

Last night Hubby said, "You must be running on Christmas fumes! How do you have so much energy when you are getting so much less sleep than me?" And I had no answer...just some giggles.

So that's what she had in her suitcase...

My mom came into town on Friday. I arrived at the airport early with my two kiddos in tow. I wasn't sure if I should park or circle around....so I called my sis to see if Mom would require help. Nooo her plan is to get a smart carte, came the response. And don't be mad at her...but she brought two suitcases full of gifts and not so many clothes. Ahhh a definite improvement. She usually comes loaded down with gifts and too many clothes.



Before she left CA she asked if we needed anything. Hubby piped up. We don't need anything, and please no more cookie jars...because somehow she always brings a cookie jar.

According to her, and to these guys, this thing crested on my table doesn't count since it isn't ceramic, even if it does have 150 gingerbread men frosted with white chocolate inside.

A Preschool Thanksgiving

Son1 had a Thanksgiving luncheon at preschool. First we created a Thanksgiving windsock with Son1 for craft time. Then each family placed a feather on this large turkey with their thanksgivings. Ohhh Hubby volunteered to fill out our feather with a twinkle in his eye, like he was going to take an evangelical opportunity. I suggested um, not now. I love Jesus, I do. I invited his teachers to our church for a Christmas outreach event. I am most comfortable, and often do share my faith in smaller settings. I just didn't want the plan of salvation on a turkey feather at that moment. Shoot me, save the turkey, true confessions of a born again that is sometimes reluctant to share Jesus. My husband generally doesn't have that issue. It must be very freeing and I ought to take some lessons. I took one look at that yellow feather, and I thought I recognized the handwriting. "I thank God for...His Son, Jesus Christ, my family, and His many Blessings!...." I stopped reading, went up to Hubby, and said I wish he wouldn't have written that. He gave me a perplexed look. Stomach turn. I went back to finish reading the rest of the yellow feather that thanked the families....and on and on.....the teacher had written the feather! Boy I was embarrassed of myself for my shyness and proud of her all at the same time. Lesson learned. Then I looked for very similar writing on the blue feather that thanks God for our preschool teachers, and our family, and la la la that Hubby wrote.

Before we ate, his preschool teacher asked for a moment of silence where we remembered our forefathers and why they came to this country (uh hem, religious freedom that she all but mentioned), asked us to bow our heads, and then concluded us with AMEN. That is otherwise known as a prayer to me. And I'm so cool with that, particularly outside of a Christian environment. There is no way I would have gotten away with doing the same, teaching in conservative VA, where there is a daily moment of silence in the public schools.

All of the families participated in creating a knock down luncheon buffet. There was local food, fruit, pizza, hot dogs, salads, breads, desserts...and a ton of other stuff I can't remember.

This is our family photo with Roaring Lion. That is his Natvie American name for the Thanksgiving play.

Hubby goes on a mosquito fest...er, field trip!

I thought it would be cool for Hubby to chaperone Son1's field trip to the Lyons Arboretum. So I signed him up. The arboretum is a botanical garden that specializes in woody plants and is part of the University of Hawai'i. It is one of the few accessible rain forests on this island, is about 200 acres large, and averages 165 inches of rain a year. Hubby called it a mosquito fest. It was hot, muddy, and buggy. He was slightly annoyed when he got home. The coolest things he saw:

1. Leaf skeleton- Bugs eat the entire leaf and just leave a skeleton of the leaf when they are done.
2. Popping leaf pod-The leaves pop and seeds go everywhere.
3. Planting a sunflower with Son1.


Hubby was a good chaperone, though. The preschool teacher even wrote me a note and sent a huge mahalo my way for all of Hubby's help. Oh, he was so nice. He even took some pumpkin cookies I made, and shared them with the teachers.