Barrett Ohana

Seven degrees of Digression

2010-06-14T06:43:00.003-10:00

1. Abra graduated from 6th grade. I remember graduating from 6th grade. They said, "see you next year." Abra got a full scale graduation. With lots of little girls in skimpy prom dresses, balloons, a speaker from the high school who promised them more work, no recess, and no playground. And a DJ, which seems way overblown, but isn't when I tell you he played the same song the whole time.

2. My sister Hannah graduated from high school and is currently drinking tea and eating Jammie Dodgers in England with her friends. I am uber proud of her. And even more proud that she is leaving home (go, Beatles reference) this fall to go to more school.

3. Both of them had birthdays, 12 and 18 respectively. This made me feel old. Like crusty old, especially since I remember when both of them were born. I remember watching them toddle around and Hannah making me watch Barney for the bazillionth time and Abra making me watch an equal number of Blue's Clues. To be sure, Abra's twinged my heart a bit more, but both are equally baffling. How did they get to be that big?

4. Ruth also turned 3. See above.

5. I finished my first year at Feather River and most of the general ed is done. I believe I have to follow around my old nemesis, Math, for a bit longer. Next semester I get to actually start some interesting classes, but now that I've said that, they won't be.

6. Right before the end of term, I did two things: 6a) joined the local roller derby team, making my life both richer and infinitely more complex; and 6b) received an award from my English teacher for writing the best essay she's read in 32 years of teaching. Got my picture in the paper and everything, but of course it helps when your mom works at the paper.

7. Jeff has taken the kiddos out to Utah for three weeks and I, lonely soul that I am, get to stay at my mum's house all that time. By myself, as my mom is currently touring Italy for her anniversary. I know, I was jealous too. However, when first doing calculations on any amount of time I have been without kids, I would have to say see #3. I'll shave some time off for Marine Corps work and a little more good behavior, but mostly, it's 12. Before I begin a whole other year of school and derby and work and kids with no husband two weeks at a time, I need to detox.

And now, six degrees of Kevin Bacon.

The Derby Post

2010-04-18T07:36:00.004-10:00

Since I have been skating for about a month, I figured I had better break down and write about derby. I have pictures of all my wicked bruises, but I will save that for a later date.

My high school friend, Vicki, has been skating with the Reno Roller Girls for quite some time. I was uber-jealous. Like seething really. Love her that I do, I thought there's no way that skinny waif can do derby. Seriously, she shops in the kid section for crying out loud. We're talking 100 pounds, maybe, like on Thanksgiving after she's eaten the entire bowl of mashed potatoes. So when I was virtually attacked at one of her bouts by the Plumas Mudslingers who do derby near me, I was stoked.

And then reality kicked in. Wait, I thought, I can't do this. I have school. I have kids, four of them. My husband is not here for two weeks at a time. I have no one to babysit for those two nights a week. And oh yeah, never really worn a pair of skates. Like ever. Never did those team sport activity things. I was too busy getting high behind the drama theatre with my friends. In truth, I was a pretty self-secluded teenager. You know, emo before they had a name for it.

But, oh, I really love this game. It's beautiful, like poetry in motion. I know that's very cliche, but it's true. Watching derby is akin to that same feeling I used to have as a little kid when I would watch Michael Jackson dance. I wanna do that. Please, please, lemme do that. Derby's the only sport I have ever watched and thought that about. Again, like ever. It's eventual, absolutely eventual. You can say whatever you like about Michael.

So, I bought a pair of skates from Vic for $40 and went to a practice. Ohmigosh, what they must have thought of me. No gear, my skates had no toe stops, and the only reason I never fell on my ass was that God liked me that day. It was pathetic. Then we upgraded to toe stops and crap gear and I fell on my ass every two seconds. I bring all my kids to practice when Jeff's not here, I play sick, I play tired, I play sore. Friday, I got two skates to the ribs and a skate to the kneecap and when Shane, the assistant coach, said I was done skating, I actually bawled. I really love this game.

Our first bout is on this Friday, the 23rd. With the exception of my leg being amputated, I will be there, skating. Even if it got amputated, I would still be there skating. Welcome, friends, to my new obsession.

Oh, alright, here's my bruise.

Isn't she lovely.

There is no charge for awesomeness...

2010-03-05T09:01:00.004-10:00

Hinamatsuri-Girl's Day

2010-03-03T18:22:00.003-10:00

Okay, so no have the china dolls that actually started this tradition. And no are actually Japanese. But I like the idea of a day to celebrate girls. March 3 used to be Girl's Day and May 5 was Boy's Day, but then they got combined into Children's Day on May 5th. But we Hawaiians jus' celebrate wheneva. So we borrowed it and I picked up both my girls early from school and we hit the town.
That took about five minutes.
Well, maybe an hour. I gave my girls balloons, instead of peach blossoms, which are for some reason in short supply when it's the middle of winter and snowing. I took them to the toy store where Ruth played with the Thomas trains the whole time but decided on a stuffed panda in a purse to take home instead. Abra wanted to know how much and then picked something under the budget line. It didn't even have to squeak under it. She's making crystals. No, not the meth ones, you nutjobs.
Then we went home and made mochi that probably only I am going to eat, musubi which has nothing to do with Girl's Day but we missed it, and katsu chicken because I thought no one would eat oyako donburi, it being something gross called soup. But no one ate the katsu chicken either. That rice, though, whew it disappeared instantly.
I want to feel that I have trashed a genuine Japanese tradition by making it all haole, but at the same time cannot feel truly sorry for using it to celebrate my girls. All my children suffer from a lack of quality time, I'm sure, but I want them to feel special. If that means giving them an extra holiday out of the year, then so be it. And I think the fact that Japan has a holiday called Children's Day and America is lacking in one, says something about America that I would punch a foreigner for saying (ok, not really). Our children need to feel valued, even if it's only one extra day a year. Fly kites and pick flowers, instead of practice and homework. As a country, we tend to focus on kids as if they are burdens, what with being all capitalist and busy. Love them, yes, but rejoice in them also.
I know. That last bit was a little granola-y, even for me. True, but cheesy nonetheless.
So mark your calendars, you don't have to do both. No worries, one extra day is all.
The Girls' is back in town, yo.

Myself has got a secret

2010-02-17T13:59:00.003-10:00

Are you ready? Kay, here goes...I am a horrible mother. No, no, really. I made that really kewl blog for Kekoa's 1st birthday and have been so ridiculously busy that I never made one for Owen when he turned 8 or for Abra when she played the cello in the school talent show. And I have all kinds of really spectacular excuses, but I will refrain from using them because, really, what's the point.
No, forget that. I am using them.
Jeff being gone means: a)I have all the kids, b)I have ALL the kids, c)I have school, d)I have housework, and of course, e)I have ALL THE KIDS and you like have to feed them and clothe them and play with them or they get all snotty and annoying and you love them, but holy crap, I just need five frickin' minutes in the bathroom in the dark so none of you can see me while I scribble my last will and testament on a piece of toilet paper before I die because I must have Alzheimer's or something because I don't remember how all of you got to be mine and I have to be like responsible for you and stuff.
*Sigh*
But we still manage to do fun stuff like go to the playground and watch James be totally freaked out by the slide and Ruthie never ever leave the swing and eat ice cream at ridiculous temperatures and times of day and Owen and I are getting very good at Smash Brothers on the Wii. Wii have totally kicked its butt. And Abra is always kicking my butt at the Naruto Wii, but I can still clap the loudest at her school functions and exclaim profusely over how awesome she is getting at cello.
This mothering gig is hard, but I think I might keep it.

New Year Syndrome

2010-01-14T09:26:00.003-10:00

After making sure that the kids had a spectacular Christmas, Jeff's unemployment went kaput (hey, Hawaii friends, isn't it interesting how kaput is similar to kapu? weird). And so our New Year begins with Jeff working with his folks all the way out in Utah while we are here patiently waiting for college to start and for him to return for every third week. Maybe.
Okay, I admit it. I had suffered from New Year Syndrome-that dangerous disease that incorporates hope for all things new-I had hoped that the year 2010, an impossible number to me which makes me think fondly of the Giant Hershey Bar from space, would be...well, better. That things would start to move up, that I would finally smack the curveball that is striking us out, that I would at least pass the Go space on the frickin' board and collect my$200. Man, $200. I am almost drooling on that one.
Instead I am sans husband, plus four kids, one college schedule, and up one babysitter. Yes, yes, away my Kekoa goes to Daycare. And I am not so secretly heartbroken. True, I could stop going to school, but what the hell would be the point in a semester's worth of credits? I at least need the paper that says AS for absolutely sh** on it. But, damnit, he's the last one and he's already not a baby anymore and I know it's only half a day, but that's half a day that we don't get to explore and walk to the library and pick up leaves or make snowmen or go to the park or eat lunch at Pangaea or play with the Thomas trains in the toystore or blow raspberries or...wow, I am severely rambling on. Maybe.
In truth, I am happy to be at school, but sad to be away from my husband and kids. Happy to be doing something I procrastinated on a bit, but wish I had finished already. Happy to be learning something new from Cultural Anthropology, but wondering why I have to take English and Computer Lit, hoping I manage to not be lost in Algebra or bored to tears in Philosophy and secretly glad that Jeff being gone meant I dropped that Government & Politics online course-not that I didn't want to take it, just that I thought it was a bit much already on top of everything else.
Believe it or not, I am actually trying to be optimistic here. Here's hoping that the Jefferson's are our new neighbors for 2010.
Cue the Giant Hershey Bar from space.

Jay-Jay is One

2009-12-07T13:06:00.003-10:00

Last year I had this...
This year I have this...
For his birthday, we did this...

And cut down this, to put lights on it and make all sparkly, which he would promptly try and remove. Note that all expressions indicate, "Are we done standing here yet? It's really frickin' cold out here."

Two days after his birthday, we got this...

Happy Birthday, son. I am overjoyed to be your mother and I look forward to more Christmases together.

Working off their Turkey

2009-11-29T19:00:00.003-10:00

We decided to visit my dad and Brenda for Thanksgiving this year, as we had not seen them for a bit. A good time was had by all.

Dad actually reported that he missed us after we left. He said it was too quiet. Which, really, for my dad to think things are quiet...well, it's a bit strange.

The Pumpkin Blog I was going to write

2009-11-29T18:44:00.004-10:00

I missed watching the leaves change color in Hawaii, having an actual autumn. We went down to visit my Aunt Mary and pick pumpkins out of an actual patch. The patch was a school fundraiser and we knew the kids would have fun. And it was fun, but it was ridculously overpriced. Worse than the pumpkins we could have bought at Safeway. Ah, well, there you are. Can't always have awesome pumpkins from Hawi. They had a bus that drove around the patch for bumpy, scary rides that were very bumpy, but not quite so scary. And there was a small petting zoo complete with pigs eating the rotten pumpkins. That was a little scary.

All in all, it was a fun time.

Still

2009-10-23T18:52:00.004-10:00

I had this whole blog planned about how we took the kids to the pumpkin patch, complete with pictures and I will still write that, but not today. Today, oh man, today is something different.
Carolann, Jeff's sister, my sister, passed away.
My house is quiet. My kids are asleep. My husband is in Utah. Everything is dark, so dark I cannot see the end of it. I know it's there, but my heart is too sore to find it.
It should be against the law. It's not fair. I am angry and sad and I don't understand. I feel like I am putting together a puzzle with only purple pieces. I should be asleep. I've been up since three this morning, but every time I close my eyes all I can see is her face. And the faces of my nieces. Oh, how my heart aches for them. I know they are in good hands; Christie is exceptional, Brian and Jenny are gems; I know the girls will never not know what a wonderful person she was. Yet, I see them graduating and marrying and having babies of their own without being able to hold her hand. So, we will hold them. Hold them close and tight and tell them stories of all the tears that she shed for them, all the small wonders she grasped so they could see, all the times the light and love shown from her face just to look at them.
I miss her. I opened my phone to call Christie and Carolann is listed above it. I open my computer to type and the screensaver is on a picture of her and Owen riding the Ducks in Seattle. In spite of all that we have seen and done together, I loved her more. So much more. There was so much strength in her, so much beauty, so much joy. I want to scream and break things. I want to look at people in the streets and ask them how dare they keep on living when she is not. But I cannot. These things will not bring her back. Nor would I, even if they did. I want to, but I cannot. She is starting over. Not was, but is. She was in love and beautiful. She had her girls. Putting things in their place. I can't see her, but I know she's there. Moving on to bigger things and better things, things that sparkle, things that shine, things that we aspire to.
So I will hold her close and tight and tell her that it's okay, that we're not okay, but will be. I will hold her close and say I love you. And see you later.

I know! I know!

2009-10-21T12:17:00.004-10:00

I have been failing my New Year's Resolution to write the blog every week uber spectacularly. I have a good one planned, but it is mid-term time and I just never seem to get around to uploading the pictures that must go with it.
Seriously, it's a visual.
Anywoot, hang on tight gang. I promise this weekend. In the meantime, here's my yellow watermelon picture.

In a galaxy far far away...

2009-09-28T07:47:00.002-10:00

In case you didn't hear, Jeff's grandma passed away.
I know. I was sad too.
We left California last Wednesday in order to make to the service in Orem on Saturday. And then drove down to Blanding in southern Utah for the burial. It has been an extremely long and hard trip.
I am writing this in the car from Moab to Price. Which seems to be roughly like traveling over the barren wilderness that is northern Nevada. Only redder.
So I will wish Grandma safe passage and happy reunion with her husband, tell her we love her, and will see her in a bit.

Free Mutiny on the Bounty

2009-09-10T09:16:00.003-10:00

While walking around town, I have seen a veritable plethora of nature's goodness. So much of it that no person could pick it all.

But maybe two people could.

I asked the principal at Abra's school if I could pick the chokecherries on school grounds. He said yes please take as many as you want. So we did.

Our neighbor has a pear tree. They don't actually live at the house; they just rent it out. They told us to please pick as the pears would just fall on the ground and make a mess. So we did.

We have spent almost a whole week canning just those two fruits. Wonder what else I could find? I think my neighbors have an apple tree as well.

Also our garden is getting out of hand. The peas are downright everywhere.

From left to right: Chokecherry Berry Dipping Sauce (Ohana Dip), Peach BBQ Sauce, Pear Pickles (Oh, man are these good), Cinnamon Red Hot Pears (very festive), Spirited Pears (Go Pears!), Ginger Pear Marmalade (awesome on french bread), and Chokecherry Jam.

We have been uber busy.

My first day of school...in 13 years

2009-08-18T09:02:00.002-10:00

Two weeks ago I went to the Veteran's Office and was told that I could still use the Montgomery GI Bill. And that it would pay roughly $1300 a month for 36 months of my school. And that if I was going to school, I could use the work study program and work at the VA office for minimum wage. Part of the requirement of doing the work study program was that by law they would have to let me study on the job.
Needless to say, this seemed pretty win-win to me.
So, I called the Admissions office of Feather River Community College here in town. And got voicemail. And got voicemail. And got voicemail.
Not being 19 or transferring from somewhere else, I have no idea how this registering for College (capital C) stuff works. I have no idea which classes I am supposed to be taking for whatever it is I want to be when I grow up.
This left me registering for Sociology, History, Anthropology, Theatre, Film Appreciation, and Asian Martial Arts Weapons classes on the very last day before school started. For the life of me, I could not would not Sam I am, get any math or english classes. I do not like green eggs and ham. I could also not find out how the hell to properly apply for the GI Bill. Whatever, it will all work out.
Yesterday, I attend Sociology at the wonderful hour of 8 in the morning. I leave what is supposed to be an hour long class at 8:05. I like Sociology. I like any class where the teacher gets up and says, "This is an easy class. We don't even use textbooks." Score one for the pocketbook.
Following Sociology, is History 108 at 9. This was a little more advanced. I had a brief moment of panic when he said that you should be taking English 10 (also known as Dumbed down English). Wait, I cry, I have no english classes. ARGH! And then I thought, but wait, I work at the stinking newspaper for crying out loud. I know how those grammer thingies like work and junk. I no need dumb engrish. I gots the Internets!
Then at 5 in the evening I go to drama. I am 30. Everyone else is oh, so young. At the last minute, two older gentlemen enter, making me feel much more comfortable about signing up for Theatre. But, it still was rather hard to hear that almost everyone else's favorite movies are: Boyz in da Hood (they are from Alabama), Dumb and Dumber, Wayne's World, and Zoolander. It was very weird saying Harold and Maude is my favorite movie. No one except the teacher knew what it was. And how do you fight with people saying that guy from Twilight is their favorite actor when yours is Paul Newman? Come on, kiddos, no one can eat 50 eggs!
Today, I have film appreciation at 6 p.m. I think I might have to drop this class. I cannot physically watch Full Metal Jacket one more time. Seriously, this is required Marine Corps film appreciation. It and Apocalypse Now. Oh, and that completely horrid Tom Beringer movie, Sniper. Jeff makes me watch that from time to time. Besides, I need a damn math class. Economics, even, something, anything, just give me some numbers.
So my schedule is as follows: Mondays and Wednesdays, I have Sociology, History, and Theatre. Tuesdays for now, I have Film Appreciation. Thursdays, I take my Weapons class in the evening. And I do Anthropology online.
I think my plate is a little full, but darn it, I am excited.

Blackberries and Peaches

2009-08-11T09:40:00.004-10:00

This is what my freezer looks like. Those are my forty plus peaches that came in a box for $12.
This is my mom's blackberry jam.

This is a partially full blackberry bucket. It ended up being 3/4 full. It's a five gallon bucket.

This is me and James pimping our blackberries.

I really love summer fruits.

Two Months

2009-07-29T16:06:00.002-10:00

Today I braved the bureaucratic red tape and carted an enormous mound of paper to the Welfare Services office to apply for CalWorks, Medi-cal, and that dogrel food stamps.
I really hate being poor.
Because surprise, surprise, we do not qualify for cash aid or food stamps, but if the heavens align on the seventh Monday of the quarter slice moon, we might get Medi-cal. Provided we are standing in the proper toadstool arrangement.
No, we are not homeless. No, we are not quite destitute. But we are getting a bit desperate.
And funnily enough, I have been in this situation already.
I really hated it then too.
When it was just Abra and I and the gloriousness of the Marine Corps and their non-direct deposit, I found myself with my hat in my hand. And was denied then too, despite being paid below the federal poverty level to kill myself in some foreign country. Despite losing thirty pounds to non-eating so that she could. Despite praying that the five dollars I could afford for gas every two weeks would carry me to work so that I didn't get court-martialed. Rejection is a bitch.
So here I am in the exact position that I was before I got married or had three more children or moved to Wyoming or Hawaii or back again. That position that is middle class poor. I am officially too rich to have help and too poor to do it on my own. Especially when the job service here in town busts out the phone book to help Jeff find a job. Because, you know, we are retarded and never thought of that. Because we have never worked a computer, either.
Albert Einstein said, "Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result." But I didn't do this. All I wanted was more time with my dying father. Not sure why that seems to be such a curse.
True, Jeff has never, in all the eight years that we have been married, spent this much time with our kids. I cannot exchange that nor would I. Most times I was worried that he would kill himself working. Like standing out in the 20 below snow in Wyoming with pnuemonia for a week. Or working seven days a week for two months. Or staying to work in Hawaii for a month while the kids and I were here. Why should anyone HAVE to do those things?
But apparently, we have to. Apparently, our work is not hard enough. Apparently, I learned nothing from my first go round with poverty so let's do it all over again. Can't wait to find out whether government cheese still makes the best grilled cheese sandwiches despite not being anything remotely resembling cheese. All I need is an iron and a paper bag. Then I really will be back again.
Alright, Tyler Durden, I am not my khakis. All I have is a refridgerator full of condiments because I could not afford the food or the ying-yang coffee table. Tell me, Tyler, what is the first rule of Fight Club? Maybe I should start my home business selling rich white women their own fat asses back.
If you've just tuned in, friends and neighbors, you met me at a vary interesting time in my life.

Yard work? Or Gardening?

2009-07-26T14:07:00.003-10:00

There is a green thumb somewhere under that dirt.
Jeff's planter box made from free pallets. We like free.

Compost pile that I am awesomely proud of. So awesome, in fact, that my shadow is in it.

Peas and Carrots.

Herbage, but not the cilantro that bolted as it is extremely hot here.

There are also bush beans and beets and a vertiable plethora of flowers, a small bunch of lettuce that is lacking in photogenic qualities, but will probably taste delicious, one small rose bush, and the lawn that was particularly sparse until we added some grass seed. Say, this gardening thing is pretty kewl. I think I'll keep it.

On days like these...

2009-07-26T13:57:00.001-10:00

Everything's Eventual.

Day Two

2009-07-26T13:49:00.003-10:00

Abra is way in the back, but you can't see Jeff next to her.

And Owen is in my lap.

Discovery Kingdom aka Marine World

2009-07-08T07:23:00.002-10:00

We decided that despite having no jobs and less money, we would try for quality of life instead and took the kids to Marine World. At least that was what it was called when I was a kid, but then the Six Flags conglomerate bought it out and renamed it Discovery Kingdom. Yet in the way that Kamuela was always called Waimea despite the US Postal Service nomenclature, nobody knows what you are talking about if you say Discovery Kingdom.

The kids had a blast. We had a blast. Just plain ridiculous amounts of fun.

And we will go home poorer, but much richer.

Welcome to the world of no job land...

2009-06-30T18:32:00.002-10:00

It lets you do things like this on Tuesdays! And really you have to do them because you are A) bored out of your mind and B) totally frickin' poor. Good Luck!

Enough talk...let's see some pictures.

2009-06-16T19:50:00.003-10:00

The Gang's all Here

2009-06-10T18:17:00.002-10:00

My apologies for keeping away from everyone for awhile. Holding down the fort with four kiddos meant that anytime they weren't awake, I was sleeping. It was much harder than I had originally anticipated which is like saying that when bacon gets close to a frying pan, it might cook.
Mmmmm...bacon.
Now that my husband is back I have ample time to discover that I am extremely homesick. After five years in the Islands, I am no longer sure I know how to be a mainlander which I am sure makes my Island friends laugh out loud. "But you were such a California girl when you was here," I hear them say in my heads. And they are right; I was. Before I moved to Hawaii, I had never heard of a leper colony on Molokai, never heard of Queen Lili'uokalani or King Kalakaua, never heard of revolts or soveriegn rights for the only state that used to be a kingdom. Hell, I never learned the names of all the Islands. I walked like a Bay Area girl sprinkled with some Marine, or maybe it was the other way around. I was not malihini, certainly not kama'aina, just a really dedicated tourist. Perhaps I deserved to be called a haole, maybe not have it hurled at me, but I least told I was one.
Now that I am back here in California, I do not fit. In the same way that I once longed for the ocean like a fish out of water in Wyoming, now I find that keeping your shoes outside is not standard practice. I sent my kids to school with musubi in their lunches and listened to them send tales of shocked faces home. I have bamboo kitchen utensils and little koa honu statues. Instead of country music or rap or rock, Jack Johnson and Hapa and Paula Fuga waft from my radio. I actually told the cashier at Rite-Aid mahalo. And didn't realize it until I was at the car. Taking the kids to the playground, I find myself thinking of Laupahoehoe Point or malasadas from Tex's. I say "Howzit" and "slippah."
What makes a person from where they are from? Every time, every single time, I have come back to California I have thought to myself, "I am going home." Now all I can think is, "I want to go home."
Don't misunderstand, I am glad that we are here. The kids needed to be here near their other sets of grandparents; I needed to be here. This is where we were supposed to go next. And it really is a cute little place. Lots of older Victorian-style homes, everyone still says hi on the street, I can walk just about anywhere, and summer is coming with its promise of camping and fishing, of swimming in the river and roasted marshmallows at night. We did the right thing.
But the smell of beach whispers to me on the wind. The smell of Waimea fog, completely different somehow from San Francisco fog or mountain fog, lingers on the night air. My heart is strangely both here and lost, as if I were a comet with a split tail.
I will keep that fragile creature called aloha in my heart, hoping against hope. I wish to walk on it with my two Hawaii-born children. And they are so frightfully Island. You can even tell which ones. Ruth, born on Oahu, is the one I will catch surfing at Bowls off of Waikiki, no fear and plenny joy. And my Big Island boy, James Kekoa, mellow as the day is long and always kicking off his socks to feel the sand beneath his toes.
One day, you'll see.

Ladies and Gentlemen we have normalacy

2009-04-10T06:54:00.002-10:00

Or something approximating it anyway. Normalacy is fleeting.
We are, to be frank, a damn mess. Our stuff is not here, we are still at my mom's which goes okay, but the kids miss their stuff. Our Dad is not here; he is getting our stuff which goes okay, but the kids miss their dad.
Owen and Abra are at school which goes okay, but it's always hard to move and have to make new friends. Last night was Abra's open house and because this is a small town everyone was waving at each other except us. Owen is starting the IEP process because of his Asperger's. They are trying to get him an aide in class.
And I, well, I don't know. I have a job doing typesetting for my mom at the newspaper. I do it after the kids go to bed which works. Mom is trying to get them to hire me for real and I would like to, but there are some obstacles. Like my son will not, cannot drink out of a bottle. Not really sure what the hangup is; just that he won't.
Anyhoo, Easter is almost here and my husband is coming tomorrow, but I still try not to think to hard. Mostly, I don't have time, but sometimes I just don't want to. Then I have to think about all the things that I have to do or don't or will or won't and I feel swamped. Almost, but not quite completely overwhelmed.
Ah well, at least it's not the end, right? Because you know, everything will turn out right in the end.

On Hiatus

2009-03-24T15:28:00.003-10:00

We are currently experiencing mass amounts of chaos.
The world is blowing up.
The world is caving in.
The world has lost its way again.
But you are here with me.

And that makes it okay.

I'll be right back. Promise.

Lord, I was born a ramblin' man...well, sort of.

2009-03-09T19:02:00.004-10:00

So now that we are mobile, I will just say that I love the country that is America. I love road trips and driving to strange lands in my land. I love the angry man in Cle Elum, Washington who thought we were hippie flower freaks for letting Abra pee behind a tree when she was doing the potty disco and there was no bathroom. He was a total psycho and we almost got into a fight, but the experience was very road trip. I love the conglomerate of eating establishments, hotels, motels, single servings, and dusty exits. I love watching thunderstorms in Oregon in the morning and driving by the Boise Temple at midnight. I love visitin'. I hope to one day transverse this anomaly of a nation not by air, possibly by train, and mostly by car. Provided there is a home to return to.

There is not yet, but there is a glimmer of light. That all these people who have loved us and missed get to see us while we trip the light fandango.

Or some other such hippie flower freak nonsense.

Aloha 'oe

2009-02-27T21:46:00.002-10:00

So we have officially left Hawaii behind. I still feel as though I were going on some extended vacation and not at all as if I had moved on entirely. I cried and cried almost the whole way to Hilo to eat at Ken's one last time and then to hop on board.

And I still think...

I never got to eat at Merriman's.
I didn't buy a Koa salad bowl and forks.
I didn't go surfing or learn a hula.
I never stood at the top of Mauna Kea.

I want to go home.

Where I can...

Eat crepes at the Farmer's Market. Or lau lau. Or teri pork.
See snow and sand from the same viewpoint on the road to Hawi.
Go on my daily walk down Mud Lane with my kiddos.

And part of me thinks that God made my last day rainy on purpose because if it had been sunny I would have went to the beach and stood there on the sand with my heart breaking into little pieces and this empty void where the life that I have made being cleansed out with seawater washing back and forth on the waves...

Oh, man, enough, now. That's enough.

You must ALWAYS bring the diaper bag.

2009-02-13T16:53:00.007-10:00

This is my son today after he pooped all over himself at my friend Eileen's house. I was just picking up the kids' from school and thought I would make a quick stop by. Just picking up the keiki, no need diaper bag. So of course, poop EVERYHWERE. Eileen's kids don't wear diapers anymore, not since her daughter left them behind.

My poor son. Do you see what I've done to him?

Look real close.

Yes, he is in a GIRL'S pullup.

There now. That's better.

Sorry, son.

Don't tell your father.

The horror...the horror.

2009-02-12T13:01:00.003-10:00

My house is officially in shambles. Everything is everywhere, including my brain. I think I actually packed it up in a box somewhere, but I forget. And the list of things still to accomplish is ENORMOUS!

Must go through filing cabinet.
Must go through kid's toys.
Must pack entire bathroom.
Must pack entire kitchen.
Must rent two cars.
Must look for hotel.
Must find kids...nope sorry. Too busy for that last one.

I really hate packing. I am looking forward to moving, though. Since I am crammed between boxes, forward is the only way I can look.

Cherry Blossom Festival

2009-02-07T16:11:00.006-10:00

Today we went to join in the Cherry Blossom Festival here in Waimea. It's a celebration of the Japanese tradition of hananmi or the viewing of the Cherry Blossoms. I figured it was the last time we would get to go to one, maybe ever. And I wondered if the reason I wanted to do something so crafty and pretty and special is a sign that I am getting old. It was the kind of family outing that I would have secretly enjoyed and then scoffed at when I was younger. Including that there were lots of little booths and trinkets and knickknacks that I refrained from buying because we are moving. Okay it was really because we don't have the money, alright, alright? Feel better? Just kidding. It was just the kids and I as Jeff was laid up, but we had a good time viewing the sakura. I will miss these cultural things when I go. Even if they make me feel old.

It was hot. And I mean hot. And there were an amazing number of people for pokey old Waimea. Owen picked me out a locket with real flowers in it and he got a bento baby christmas ornament and a koi necklace. Abra got a koa hairpick with flowers and crystals hanging off it and Ruthie ate rice krispie treats. I tried to find mochi, but either we were too late or there wasn't any. I saw Auntie Eva at the Hawaiian Quilting booth and both of the midwives for James, but mostly it was pretty touristy. We brought home plate lunch for Jeff that tasted distinctly Local Beef moo-ey.

Later on I will make Chicken Papaya for dinner over rice and the beautiful Waimea day has turned into a typical foggy drizzle-y Waimea evening, but Jeff and the kids are fighting over the Xbox and all is normal in the Barrett household.

This year so far...not going well.

2009-01-25T18:30:00.003-10:00

So last Sunday night, I had to leave abruptly as my dad had 95% kidney failure. James and I left and flew to Oakland and then drove a car straight to the hospital.

We are now back, but I cannot write about what happened just yet. I'm not even sure I know what happened just yet. He's on dialysis and he's doing better, but my trip is a giant blur of...yeah.

We have been taken....by suprease.

2009-01-16T09:36:00.002-10:00

So three days ago we were discussing moving back to the mainland and decided that since work had dried up to a wrinkled prune, sooner was better than later. At the end of next month, we will be leaving the Islands.

And oh gosh, but that makes me sad.

The End of Christmas Break

2009-01-12T14:17:00.003-10:00

And really, thank God for that. No, not really, but gosh is the house a whole hell of a lot fuller with four kids than it was with three. Or even two. *Gasp* that sure was a long time ago. So before they head off back to school, I took the kids to the Zoo in Hilo which is fairly small, but they enjoy it. Afterwards we went for ice cream at Baskin-Robbins and then we drove home on Saddle Road and took a few pictures of the snow on Mauna Kea.

The sun was out and everyone was happy. It proves to me once again that a good day isn't necessarily one where nothing goes wrong; just one that makes you smile.

Look, over there! It's Random Photos!

2009-01-05T10:12:00.004-10:00

In light of the boy's health returning to full strength, and there being nothing of importance to report at this time, I give to you family shots of Kapa'a and Lapakahi State Parks.

Ho Ho Oh No...

2008-12-31T10:08:00.003-10:00

My quasi-New Year's Resolution (in addition to the usual things like losing weight, listening more than I talk, dancing like John Travolta in Pulp Fiction) is to attempt to write my blog at least once a week. This might be an epic fail type resolution, seeing as how I am now Mommy to four, but I will go for the win.

I hope everyone had a nice Christmas. Ours started out fairly well with my mom, Steve, and Hannah coming to visit. The kids had all had some chest congestion, but they saw the doctor the day before and I wasn't too worried. Until about 5 on Tuesday. James was struggling a little bit so I took him to the doctor again. She saw him and had me take him to the Emergency Room for chest x-ray and RSV test. I took him and they did all kinds of test. They took blood cultures and saliva cultures and Culture Clubs. They tested for influenza and RSV and gave him an IV and put an oxygen hood over his little melon. And decided they would keep him. For 48 hours. They gave us a nice bed in the ICU.

So my son spent his first Christmas in the ICU. And while because my mom was here, I still got to open presents with the other kids and eat Christmas dinner with other people, I still feel that my Christmas wasn't just different, but a dismal failure. It could have been worse, I tell myself, it could have been a lot worse. The doctor even reminded me how much worse it could have been. She said she was so thankful that I had thought to bring him in because most times people just go with the wait and see approach, which would have meant a VERY different Christmas. I am usually a big fan of this approach, but this time I wasn't. For whatever reason, I called the doctor.

The nurses were mostly good. Everyone was helpful. Some even a little too helpful what with waiting until my poor sick boy was asleep to strip all his clothes off and weigh him, thus waking him up again. The Respiration Therapy nurse and Liz, my day nurse, asked for permission to suction out his lungs and I said okay, so for Christmas, my son had a tube shoved down his nose. And it worked. After that he started to get better. The doctor finally decided on bronchialitis until the labs came back. The tests said he had some pnuemococcal-I can't pronounce what this is-thing. Which is a virus that the older kids brought home from school and James was just too little to stave off. And had he been just a month older would have had a vaccine for.

They let us go on Boxing Day and he is 100% better, so I will try really hard not to complain that my Christmas sucked hard and welcome the New Year with open arms.

And pray that it goes better than last year which pretty much sucked.

Oh holy crap...our first trip to the store sans anyone who can actually hold Ruth.

2008-12-11T13:45:00.002-10:00

So about two months ago, I got this fabulous idea (no, no, I am being serious). Why buy a carrier/snugli/sling/two kid stroller when I can just sew a sling for cheaper and be done with it? And thus, my very own slingy-thing was born and it was even in fact cheaper which is sometimes not the case when you are sewing things. Especially if you mess up. With 5 yards of fabric. Anyhoo, today I decided I could no longer stand to be cooped up in my house with Ruth and James and I needed to get some Christmas gifts anyway and I want to travel a bit so I will go to the Border's in Hilo.

I am supergenius. Gaze on me and despair.

I put James in the slingy thing. It works absolutely fab-oo. He is so snug he continues sleeping as though nothing had happened. I get out Ruth. Everything is still good. We enter the Border's.

All cohesion breaks down.

Okay, so it wasn't quite that bad. Except as I entered, I realized I would have to go to the bathroom with a baby strapped to my chest. And I had forgotten how hard it is to chase said small person around with a baby strapped to your chest. And manage to do some shopping at the same time. Paying is especially interesting. No, I don't need anything else. I (and every other person in the store) would just like to pay and be done please. Here's my money, take it!

But all in all, Ruth did very well. Including the full body sprawl in the parking lot where I had to pick her up.

With a baby strapped to my chest.

James Kekoa Barrett

2008-12-04T17:49:00.003-10:00

December 3, 2008 at 12:00am

6 lbs. 12 oz.

20 1/2 inches

First off, everything's fine.

2008-11-17T08:59:00.002-10:00

Just so no one worries. On Friday, I came down with a nasty stomach flu that had me throwing up every 45 minutes. I finally gave in and went to the hospital at 630pm because everytime I threw up the absolutely nothing in my stomach, I would then get this really sharp stabby pain across the top of my stomach.

So they hooked me up to the monitors and discovered that the sharp stabby pain was in fact labor. Which is in fact a bad thing at 35 weeks. Because I was so dehydrated, I went into labor. Who knew? And at 35 weeks, a delivery would mean flying the baby back to Oahu. That's no good.

So they hooked me up to an IV. They gave me some pills which I threw up. Ohmigosh, how I hate throwing up. Especially since I was nine months long morning sickness pregnant with Owen and now when I throw up it's, "holy crap my stomach is coming out of my throat and I am choking to death, pounding on the floor, because I can't BREATHE!!!!" So they gave me some shots instead. One to stop throwing up and three to stop the labor which I was to frickin' exhausted to fight off anymore. So then I became Stoner Sara because those non-puking drugs always make you high as a kite, but then the non-labor drugs made me like a speed freak junkie with the shakes. And of course the non-labor drugs pump up your heart rate which pumps up the baby's heart rate which means...a whole night of observation in a crampy non comfortable, not made for eight months pregnant woman's back, totally too short bed. They finally let us go at 7 the next morning.

So I am trying to ignore that my house is in shambles, there is a monumentous pile of laundry stacking up, we cannot eat because all the dishes are dirty, and I must still drive Owen to school. Abra sadly cannot go because...

Now Abra is sick.

Help! Help!

2008-11-12T15:32:00.002-10:00

I am 30.

When did this happen? Was I sleeping? How did I get to be 30?

I don't feel old (which is good) and I am not really upset (which is better), but I am still curious that time seems to have taken a giant leap from 22 to 30. Okay, maybe frightened is a better word than curious. Because if it leaps like this for the next eight years, holy crap, I will almost be forty!

Ah well. At least I still look 17. Right? Right? Just smile and nod, damnit.

The Carving of the Pumpkins

2008-10-29T10:15:00.003-10:00

And so begins the delectable delights of the season. With purchased pumpkins from Foodland, at a totally abysmal price of $0.59 a pound, having not been able to arrange the pumpkin patch this year, we commence the holidays. I have always wondered at the Harvest Celebration ritual in which you force a gourd to reliquish its innards in the name of all things ghoulish. But oh, how I love the smell of burning pumpkin. And the squishy-ness. And how Owen always says, "I want to do it all myself." Yet I have never bought that fourth pumpkin for myself. This year, he at least deigned to spoon out some guts. Which Ruth promptly ate. And ate. And ate some more. I was at a loss as to how exactly I could stop her when I was covered in orange goo. Eventually, the high chair came into my view, and with a cookie, the pumpkin feast ceased.

Abra did an awesome job, all by herself. It's the squinty one on the right. Jeff's is on the left; he said he was going for maniacal laughter, but stopped just short at crazy giggle. Mine, I mean, Owen's, is the one that apparently looks like he's been sipping the pumpkin beer. Just one more round, friend. Owen always wants one that looks like the one Lucy draws on Charlie Brown's head, but I just can't bring myself to carve that many triangles so we settle for, "how many teeth do you want?"

I love this time of year. Even when the leaves don't change colors.

Just another manic, uh...Wednesday.

2008-10-15T10:17:00.002-10:00

Today I am officially 31 weeks despite being in denial that I am pregnant at all. Ruth and I went for our walk down Mud Lane (yes, that is its real name) where she decided about 1/4 of the way to not walk anymore, thank you very much, and you will please carry me all the way home. Where is the stroller, you ask? We never want to stay IN the stroller so Mommy very foolishly decided that we would try out just doing the walk. Yes, I hear you all laughing together. So we rode mom's shoulders all the way home as that seemed like the best option. Almost four kids and I still choose poorly. Stop laughing, I mean it.

The doctors have moved me to getting seen every two weeks and I go to my diabetic lady before I see them. We have another ultrasound scheduled for the 28th of this month, when I will be roughly 34 weeks and still heavy in denial. I can however still see my toes. Perhaps this is a good thing as it means I have not gained very much weight and we are all proponents of that.

We are starting to think quite seriously about building a house here. This seems quite well, ridiculous in light of recent economic events. In fact, it seems kind of stupid. There seem to be lots of things that our little family could do, but not one concrete thing that we should do. This one however, does seem to be the best option. For now (cue the scary music). Since Jeff is in construction and knows all the right people for that, building seems to be better than buying for us. In the meantime, we will save our pennies (and nickles and quarters and benjamin's) and wait for as close to the right time as possible. Whatever that is.

While we are saving our pennies, we will continue to enjoy those things which are unique to living here as the right thing might be something else later. We will go to the beach in October and pick pumpkins from the patch in Hawi after. We will eat Chicken Katsu before we go trick or treating in Waikoloa, study the ancient hawaiian navigation techniques in Hilo and have cheeseburgers, and we will enjoy what we can with the time that is given us.

The County Fair

2008-09-20T19:33:00.003-10:00

So, then...moving on.

Today we went to the County Fair and Owen got on his very first big person scary ride. Jeff made him sit in the back of the big rocking boat thingy. Which left him exiting the ride like screeching banshee. Sitting in between Grandma and Grandpa, clutching Grandma's shirt for dear life, wailing in full volume; it was a complete repeat of Abra last year. This year she went on the Zipper and pronounced it awesome. Jeff has turned them into *gasp* amusement park groupies!

Not that I am complaining. Ruth and I stood nearby in the shade as it was just downright frickin' scorching. In Hilo! The city with the most rainfall in the US! Not a single damn cloud! Exclamation Point!!! But apparently we have climatized enough or our sunblock was extreme as none of us are burnt. Ruth pet a chicken but that one was free; the rest of the petting zoo cost $3. Hell, we could have gone to the real zoo and pet animals for free. She did not enjoy that cottony part of the cotton candy, but the turny dragons kicked butt.

Seriously, it was too hot to eat anything. Or move. And it wasn't big enough of a fair to go do that fun crafty stuff that I like, but we had fun. With funnel cake.

Well, it's official...

2008-07-18T13:04:00.002-10:00

It took three years, but it finally happened. I am the big, ugly, white man. Despite not being big, ugly, or a man. Or even all white. I got called a haole today outside of KTA supermarket. Since most of my family doesn't know what Haole means, a quick description: Haole typically means foreigner, but over the years it has become derogatory. Almost like calling someone a n*****.

Part of me wants to laugh about it. I have been inducted. I have surpassed tourist status and remained long enough for slurs about my non-brownness to head my way. And maybe tomorrow I can. I am still too mad right now. I realize, in the grand scheme of things, three years in one place is a bit of a joke but for our family, it's tantamount to homesteading. We're always moving.

It wasn't improved by the fact that I was on the phone with Jeffery talking about how we couldn't go to the camping site we originally chose because a white guy sitting around the campfire with his family got the shit beat out of him by six "Natives" who materialized out of the darkness. How I hate that fucking word. Native. We are all native. Native to planet Earth. Despite not having EVER treated someone poorly because their skin was a different color. Despite being a good law abiding citizen, contributing to the economy, sending my kids to public school, shopping for local goods. Despite an attempt to respect and learn and grow about a different culture. Oh no, it doesn't matter because I am a haole. Fuck that. Sorry to be so crude, but FUCK THAT. If staying in one place long enough to birth two babies and buy groceries for four children and say hi to my neighbors and go to church isn't enough to make this a home, then what is? Oh, respect the 'aina, respect the 'aina. And on my walk today, next to the horses is a used condom. Who the hell put that on Mud Lane?! Some bike riding tourist stopping long enough to get it on? Bull. Bitch and excuse and condemn me all you want, but I sure as hell wasn't leaving my car battery on the side of the road, was I? I was walking across a parking lot with my children and you almost back up into my daughter, but I'm the interloper of doom? I sent the smallpox and leprosy to decimate your ancestors specifically so I could arrive two hundred years later and own the asphalt. Kiss my technicolor ass.

Alright, that's enough ranting, but it was rather upsetting. Like finding a worm in my pristine apple. Okay more like walking straight into a telephone pole covered in dog shit, but nevermind. I love it here. And not just because it's "pretty." I love everything about here. And I thought...I thought...I don't even know what I thought. Yes I do. I thought this was my home. More than almost any other place I have ever lived. Silly me. I am just a haole.

I killed me some chickens!

2008-07-03T09:38:00.002-10:00

So now, as the world approaches the Apocolypse, I am prepared. It is a good thing that my morning sickness has ended as friends Becca and Matt had some chickens to kill and asked me if I wanted to help. I said yes and am still not sure if that was a good plan or not. It was actually shockingly easy. First is the slaughter of the innocent poultry. Okay, so not really, but they opted for the cutting of the throat method as hatchets were not available. Then we scalded and plucked. These chickens had actually been Easter presents so underneath their lovely white feathers, there was a soft down of blue or purple or green. It was quite sad at that point. But our lust for blood did not pause and we moved quickly onto the removal of the innards which, in truth, was the grossest part. I will spare you the details.

I took home Mr. Purple and made curry. He was extremely tasty, but I did have a hard time near the end. So, I have learned a worthwhile skill and if you look close, you can see that I did it in slippah. If I can cook, so can you, Choy Gin!

Ruthie's 1st Birthday

2008-06-04T17:03:00.005-10:00

Last Saturday we celebrated Ruthie's 1st birthday with BBQ on the beach. Our big girl got very sandy and ate watermelon and chicken. She wasn't too sure about the potato salad, but hey, neither was I as it came from Costco. Dad scoped out the beach and set up two tables with food and drink; he got to the beach at the ripe hour of eight, but we didn't have to come until ten. Abra got to bring her friend and Owen got to bring his boogie board, so all were pleased. I am not sure the kids even came out of the water, except to eat and get lotioned up, but Owen got pretty burnt anyway.

Lots of friends came and helped us eat an enormous chocolate cake with equally enormous frosting balloons on them. Think 1/2 inch thick. It was downright scary. Ruth actually was too full to eat any cake. Either that or the sand was just too much fun. We went swimmies and she kicked beautifully. Everyone had great fun and returned home asleep.

And then there were presents.

Kokua!

2008-04-21T12:12:00.002-10:00

On the 16th, we left for Oahu and the boat, Dorcas.

I love Dorcas. Were she not docked in Ala Wai, I would want to buy her and live on her. Forever. And I have never been on her in the open water. I love Dorcas.

Aside from that, we had a very nice family time. On the 17th, we went to the MALL. I always think of it that way, in capital letters, for capitalism. The Ala Moana MALL is freakin' enormous. And has actually gotten bigger. Yet, I digress. We took Connie with us to spend money. Aside from Ruth being rauchy when Abra was trying on pants, and announcing to the entire food court how hungry she was watching Owen eat his pizza, it went pretty well.

The next day the kids and I walked to Magic Island while Jeff worked off our trip welding on the boat. I had forgotten how rocky it was. Ruth proceeded to try and eat all the rocks off of it. So I took her swimming in the freezing cold ocean. We had a blast and by the time we got back to the boat, it was officially hot. And sweaty. We walked down Waikiki and had dinner at Yardhouse. Connie got the most gigantically large pot pie I have ever seen, through no fault of her own. Seriously, they should warn people when they order that thing. At least six people could have eaten it. And gotten stuffed. But the blue crab hoagie rocked. And the sweet potato fries kicked butt.

Finally, on Saturday, we went to the Kokua festival. Jeff and Connie left early and so we used them and cut in line. What slacker cheaters we are. Anyhoo, we found the Keiki Corner almost immediately and the kids proceeded to make recycled cardboard butterflies and fish for pencils. Some concert promoter person was up on stage yakking away about rubbish and then she said for all the parents to move back for a "special guest." Jack Johnson came and played Curious George songs for only the kids and Owen got to be on stage with all the other kids and Jack. It was schweet. But really, Dave and Tim were the best part. I love Dave and Tim.

All in all, it was a very kewl first concert experience for three very tired children riding the bus home from the Waikiki Shell. And really, what else could you ask for?

A Cultural Kind of Day

2008-03-22T19:14:00.007-10:00

After a leisurely morning spent around the house, the family and I traveled to the Amy Greenwell Botanical Gardens. It always strikes me as quaint when I expect a large sign or parking lot and end up with a tiny dirt road to a grassy area. I enjoy the Big Island immensely when these things happen. It amplifies the sense of adventure I was looking for when I sent out for most of these places. We spent a lunchtime eating sandwiches on the seat of our van and studying the various trees that surrounded it. Ruth ate some grass along with her cracker and Owen decided to not finish. Abra was excited to show us around as she had already been there on a field trip. I tried not to picture a group of sixty fourth grade students milling about aimlessly and shattering the quiet. We began our small trek through the Gardens by seeing the Taro plant and finished with a plant that makes a small paintbrush-looking seed. As it is still very early in the spring, most of the flowers and smells were not doing more than poking through. The highlight of our journey was the Papala Kapau tree whose sticky seed pods were once used to catch birds by the Native Islanders. Jeff chose to see just how sticky that actually was. By the time we walked away, he had practically a whole bush attached to his foot. It was fantastic.
After the Gardens, we drove down to Pu'uhonua O Honaunau, or as it is more commonly known by its haole name, the City of Refuge. We spent a whopping $5 on entering the parking lot full of rental cars. The Ranger at the gate was so excited that Abra had brought us back to the park with her, I fear that this cultural landmark is not visited very often by locals. Which, to be sure, is a shame. I am not sure what I was expecting from my Kmart bought book of travels, but it certainly wasn't the sense of peace that permeated from the sand. I could actually hear time stop and it was music through palm leaves. At least until the quintessential American tourist walked by, complete with non-rubbed in suntan lotion and overlarge sunglasses, to jump in the ocean after crossing the Royal grounds. Ah well, I suppose we all look like that in other places. Might as well wear big signs on our backs.
As we were driving back up the hill, we decided to stop at the Painted Church. On a quiet hillside, with an abundance of flowering shrubs, sits a tiny white chapel. Inside it has been painted with biblical scenes both of Grandeur (capital G, of course) and Sadness (might as well be fair and capitalize that too). There is a small winding staircase to the loft where once one rang the bell to come to church. It made me ponder how people used to just be smaller. Like my mother and stepfather probably couldn't have made it up if they tried. Not that you can go up. We signed the guestbook as Barrett Ohana.
I marvel at how although we have lived many other places, until we lived on the Big Island we never really explored the heritage of the area we lived in. It's something that says to me that here we can have a home. I wonder sometimes about all of the things that make me want to move elsewhere: more money, more time, a house of our own, infringing on the Native Hawaiians. But here is the first place we have ever actually made a life and I cannot help but feel it is because in some way we belong here. I thought all these things while we stopped to get pizza on the way home.