Holiday, Schmoliday. Every day should be Halloween

Lots of good pics today. I stayed up until 2 am on Halloween eve making sugar cookies, and my AP Lang kids decorated during class. They kept complaining about how gross the icing tasted (My firm belief: icing always tastes gross, unless you put on a thin layer, and then let it DRY completely), but then placing layers upon layers on each cookie. Pretty gross. Maybe I shouldn't encourage it.

I love Halloween. There's just a little more "pace" in the air. It's a good excuse for breaking out of the ordinary.

Here's Lucas in his Halloween costume. "Olympic Swimmer." I considered whether this would be considered a bit risque for my "family oriented" blog, but I just think it's dang funny. I am glad that he chose the shorts speedo vs. traditional, however. And here are his shoes on Halloween.

I wanted to put up some pictures of Amaya, but our camera card won't read. I'll edit the post later.

We went down Naniloa and up Moana street. When we finished, she had about an inch of candy at the bottom of her small bucket. It was then that I realized how seriously I must have taken Halloween when I was young. How many streets did I hit? How many hours was I out there?

Amaya loved walking around in the dark and saying 'hi' to everyone who passed. She was still full of energy when we got back home, despite a torrential downpour at the end of Moana street. My skirt got soaked, and the oreos in her candy bucket got soggy. Although we don't give her candy, she knew full well that it was something that she would want, and immediately would ask me to open every candy that went in. She didn't get any, but even at home she kept bringing things to Mike and asking him to open them. When we stopped at a house that handed out oreos (not in the package), she of course immediately ate one (How does she even know?) and I thought, if I am taking her trick-or-treating, doesn't that also mean that she's going to get some candy? Otherwise I should probably just not participate and she can complain to her friends when she's a teenager that I'm a total prude. Except she probably won't say "prude." She'll say "gay," specifically because she knows it bugs me so much.

Here's Andy the Banana. And Travis the pot head. Andy said that the banana costume was just for me.

Blue Bubble

"It doesn't hurt," he said.

Scapegoat Wanted

I was in trouble a lot yesterday, and it got me thinking that I'd like to hire a professional scapegoat. This would be someone I could refer to by name any time blame was needing to be placed. Not only that, this person would gratefully accept the blame, apologizing to any and all parties for his/her involvement, and could keep me out of focus for any responsibility I played in the incident. I could escape guilt free, breathe my sigh of relief, and let go of the stress associated with being in trouble. People might even be happy to shift the blame onto this other being, and view me in a light of compassion for having to deal with and transfer the accusation.

The first incident involved "postsecret", and I can't remember where I heard about it but I think it was on someone's blog (see how I didn't point any fingers?). I told my class about it and one of the parents e-mailed me, my principal, and visited my classroom within the space of about 4 hours. She went on and on about how she could have my job over this, but she was trying to be nice about it and let me have this mistake. Just once. Oh, and thank me for doing a good job, but, oh boy, just wait until other parents hear about this. My teeth were on grit for most of the day. I can't wait to see what she thinks of some of my literature choices.

The second incident involved me, as a department head, and how I had gotten involved in a coworker's supposed directions during a state required writing test. The report was that she had told students to write in cursive (something she requires in her class). She denied the accusation, and it turned into something much bigger than necessary. I was in trouble because I knew who the accuser was but refused to tell her who, and because I had passed the problem along to our principal, since I knew I would be in trouble about it if I had been the one to deal with it. I had to deal with it anyway, turned out.

Jake just took Amaya on a hike so that I could get some work done. I suppose I'll need a scapegoat for this too. Any volunteers?

The 3 Envyings

1. 1. House Envy: I've discussed this with several friends at some point or another, but now I've got it bad. I'm not even envious of a specific person in relation to this subject, but I'm coveting a house. Although right now the possibility is based on a number of ifs, we've walked through a house which is semi-close to our price range. I know, amazing. Most people who know anything about Hawaii realty would probably say do it, but it's more complicated than that. We've made lists of why and why not (long lists) and I don't really feel any closer to a decision. Again, we're still riding a lot on the scientific principle of guesstimation, so we may be spinning our wheels a lot for nothing. Well, not for nothing. A whole lot of stress is something I guess.


2. Since I've had Amaya I've been envious of women who say things like, "I still weigh 5 lbs over my pre-pregnancy weight, and it's been 2 weeks since I had my baby!" These same women (seemingly) do not exercise regularly, eat chocolate, and have babies who sleep through the night. These women also tell me: "But you look fine, really. I just can't believe this gut that I'm still carrying around." I do eat chocolate, at least, to keep my mouth busy instead of screaming at these women.


3. This is probably why #2 exists. I'm envious that Bekah can go to the local "Family Mart" and buy soft serve. 'Hokkaido milk' flavor is my favorite, followed by 'sakura'. Japanese people know how crucial it is to have a bakery, a cake shop, and soft serve available on every street corner. Genius.

Old-ing

Today, I'm 27. I expect a lot for my birthday, but not necessarily from other people. Sometimes other people play into it, but it's not really dependent on friends, family, etc. I have an expectation that the universe is supposed to deliver some sort of vibe on your birthday. This can play out good or bad, but the vibe, that's what I expect. Like, if something bad happens, say, I can't find my cell phone and I forgot to tell Jake that I get out of school early today and I waste the whole precious hour and a half walking around school with my crate full of papers and my lunch bag, then that's the vibe from the universe, acknowledging my birthday. Or, if the card from my parents shows up on the exact day of my birthday, therefore relieving me of the temptation to open it early and ruin the feeling of birthdayness associated with opening presents, then that's also the universe (yes, both of these scenarios did occur today). I kind of enjoy the game, and if I receive acknowledgment of my birthday from the universe, I appreciate it. Otherwise, it just doesn't feel right.

This picture is the message I got from Lucas Hancock today. It's nice of him to remember. He also remembered to tape my pens together and my computer mouse to the counter. Good ol' Lucas.

The other thing that happens every year is that I worry that I'm getting older faster than I'm getting things done. During the year I hear statistics about how most people have written a book, gotten famous, discover quantam physics, all before they turn 30, and I think, 'oh, it's okay, because I'm 26,' but every time I have a birthday, all in one day it's 'oh, it's okay, I'm 27', and it doesn't sound as convincing. People who are older than me (99% of my friends) hate it when I say stuff like that, of course, so it's double jeapordy. I've always been considered kind of accomplished for my age, and I hate to think that I'm old enough now that what I've done is expected for my age. I liked it better when I was a little ahead of myself. Pretty soon I'll be a little behind. I think parents don't realize how much being ahead becomes part of your identity when they're pushing it onto their children. I think I'd rather have adjusted at the time when it was appropriate, because being whiny at 27 just isn't as cute, and no one feels any sympathy for you anyway.

Serious Conversations Overheard at School

"You know if yoah wife listens to classical music yoah baby come out smaht, yeah?"
"Yeah."

"So I'm going wait till my wife is sleeping, brah, and put headphones on her belly and blast heavy metal, cuz. Then when my baby comes out he's going come out with one mohawk!"

*laughter*

"..and then, when he's coming out..." *here the boy mimics the baby coming out of the birth canal with his arms outstretched and making the hard rock satanic signs with his fingers, and immediately switches to air guitar, hopping around the room*

Smelling Sleep

I'm more of a taste person than smell, but since Amaya's come along I've come to appreciate this new sensation. I have few smell memories before having her. The good ones: an ex-boyfriend, who somehow represented "woodsy" without cologne, and the other is of the smell of wrist corsages I received concerning high school formals (probably the most important part really). I remember the flowers better than the dates, and I have more than one smell memory of whiffing the rose mix over a now anonymous male shoulder.

Amaya has opened up a drawerful of good smells, and I get to appreciate them daily because she needs us to fall asleep. Many parents look down on me for letting her share our bed and requiring our presence for most of her sleeping moments, but now that I'm looking at the edge of 15 months of babying, I see how little there is left of close smelling.

Last night she woke at about 2 am, scooted over, and looked straight into my eyes. She smiled very sweetly and babbled a few words. She fell asleep moving her lips and touching my face with her fingers. When she falls asleep for her naps these days she throws her arm around my neck and snuggles in really close for kisses. She'll move her face back and forth to get multiple cheek kisses and laughs a little at how many she can get. I can't really imagine her adoring me as the years go on. Very soon she'll want her own bed, own room, own face space.

Baby sweat, right at the back of her neck, is becoming very appealing as a perfume. Then there's the after bathtime smell, and I swear soap never smells that sweet on any other person. Bedtime smells usually come with lavender and chamomile lotion.

Just before bed yesterday she found her way into the semi sweet chocolate chips while I was washing the dishes. She had a good handful and a few "Mmm!"'s when Jake pulled her away. When she was falling asleep she smelled like chocolate, which is just about the perfect smell: sweet, earthy, and warm.

Words, words, words

Hamlet's reply has always been a favorite of mine, and I take it to prove(not in any context of the play) that randomness has an appealing rhythm.

Amaya still babbles pretty constantly, and I love the cadences of her voice--something I might describe as "lilting", even if I'm not using it correctly. She doesn't use many actual words, but I have a suspicion that she learned some other language in the womb. She's speaking English, but just what it sounds like through the uterine lining.

She brought me a stuffed bunny today, and I said, "It's a bunny!" She replied, "St uh mun ee!" Then we were looking at Enzo's picture on the blog and I pointed out "Enzo!" She replied, "Enzo!" I swear. I couldn't get her to say it again, though.

Me Tube

I've recently found myself hooked on you tube. It's fascinating to me how fame is a self-propelled act on this program--and I most enjoy scanning through the musical contributions. I have this half crazy thought that maybe I could create a musical number that would be enjoyed by many, and I might solicit channel subscriptions and comments with promises of personal attention to each and every viewer. Unfortunately, my dream of a guitar solo and song writing sits in the corner of our apartment inside its case. Nonetheless, I feel inspired. To do what? I guess, express my inspirited new attitude towards you tube.
My other new interest coincides with the creation of this blog. I read the Palmer blog, Bekah's blog, and now Kaity's, and I've decided I want in. Otherwise I feel like some sort of peeping tom who enjoys living through the next blog posting. Already I have edited both of my entries twice, and I like the idea of living editing.
Of course, I haven't told anyone yet that I'm writing one.

Elodie - Tommy Wallach - Webcast #15

Webcast #6 - Valentine's Day - Synaesthesia

Blog Philosophy

I've decided that entries in a blog must be short, in order to be interesting, but there's nothing that says that a short blog is necessarily interesting.