Provenance

Provenance

College Daughter: Mom! My anthropology professor wants to know the provenance of our poi pounder. What’s the story?

Me: (takes deep breath) Circa 2003, Waimea, Big Island, local craft fair. Composed of ceramic red clay with fake stone flocking.

CD: WHAT?

Me: It’s not real. If it was, it would be 20 times heavier and in a museum. And the koa poi pounding board underneath?

CD: Yeah?

Me: Acacia serving tray from Target. I bought it two years ago.

CD: Noooooooooo!

Me: Yeah. Sorry to pop that inheritance bubble.

 

#Didn’tyoueverpickitup? #holeinthebottom #fauxHawaiiana #Istilllikeit

Keeping Mom Happy

Keeping Mom Happy

When the college kids first moved back home, device chargers and cables started disappearing. I stomped around the house, ticked that I suddenly couldn’t plug in my phone or tablet while on the couch or in the kitchen or at any place I was used to.

There was much grumbling and stink-eye flying on my part and some non-committal shrugging from the rest of the adults in the house.

After a couple weeks of this, I didn’t have to look anymore. Great, I thought, people are leaving my stuff alone.

Nope. I found out this weekend that my husband has a hidden stash of chargers and cables. He’s been secretly replacing the ones that go missing before I realize they’re gone.  For a YEAR. 🤣

#truelove #don’ttouchmystuff #HomeU #keepMomhappy

Empty Closets and New Beginnings

Empty Closets and New Beginnings

For a while now, my style has been best described as tropical middle-aged frump with a side of at-least-I’m-not-naked–a.k.a. old fut titah-rella with shoes. But there was a time when I wore smart business attire, cocktail dresses, and even formal wear. I’ve kept all the classic and timeless pieces in my closet, waiting for day the when I’d need them again.

Y’all, this closet is chocked full and the size of a kid’s bedroom. In the original house plan, it was an office.

But since October, I’ve lost some of my fluffy, so much that I have to get new everything. Apparently, my family thinks it’s a problem when my yoga pants fall off as I walk upstairs. This is the result of a permanent lifestyle change, not a diet. These clothes are never going to fit again.

It’s strangely hard to purge my closet. Some of it is fear–what if I need these clothes again? Then there’s the memories attached to certain things. And the freak out at the waste that I didn’t comprehend until it was Marie Kondo’d in front of me. (Still tags on this? Really?! What was I thinking?!!!)

It’s taken me days to go through it all, and I had a couple of minor panic attacks where I temporarily “rescued” a few things.

But I then I thought about the woman having the right kinds of clothes for a new job. I thought about the plus-sized teen needing something for a special dance and the grandma that would love to wear bling-y palm trees and pineapples to bingo. These gently/only once/never-worn clothes are going to be put to good use, far better than faux soothing any hoarder-anxiety.

And me? I’ll still look on-brand as a middle-aged bag lady author. I’m holding onto a bunch of hoodies, a couple of pairs of jeans that I can keep up with a new baseball belt–a truly magical invention–and a few t-shirts. They’ll be easy to find among the rows of empty hangers.

#notallgoingtofitinthecar #donations #onlypantswithbeltloopsfornow #newclothesinsummer

Dog Beds & Fireplaces

Dog Beds & Fireplaces



College Daughter comes home for the weekend and discovers a massive new dog pillow in front of the fireplace.
 
CD: I knew it! We’re getting a new dog! Big, right? Like a Great Dane!
 
Me: No. No new dogs.
 
CD: But…
 
Me:
 
CD:
 
Me:
 
CD: Mom!
 
Me:
 
CD: You got that pillow for yourself?! That’s crazy!
 
(CD turns on the fireplace. Grabs a pillow and blanket from a nearby basket. Snuggles down. Turns on the TV.)
 
CD: Oh. My. Gosh! This is AMAZING!
 
Me: Yeah. That’s why I got it for YOU!
 
#Everybody‘sNewFavoriteSpot #PlanWorked #CouchtoMyself
Am Writing: Diving Deep

Am Writing: Diving Deep

Writing is like deep-sea diving. You spend a lot of time preparing and planning. There’s specialized gear and uncommon knowledge to acquire, some kiddie pool practice before venturing out into the open ocean, and a lot of effort to travel to new and unexplored dive sites.

Immersed in an alien macrocosm, time’s suddenly up, and you have to leave long before you’re ready. Before transitioning to surface world, you must decompress–otherwise Very Bad Things can happen.

On even the most routine dives, there’s always something unexpected, be it creature, human, weather, or something technically challenging. When you’re not diving, you’re dreaming about it and planning the next trip.

Yeah, writing is like diving to me. Which writing analogies resonate with you?

#amwriting #divingdeep #hawaiiansinspace #timeforadivetrip

High Stakes Good Deeds

High Stakes Good Deeds

You know how Boy Scouts are supposed to do a good deed each day? A couple of days ago I was the little old lady that got helped across the street–and the stakes were way higher than getting across the road.

I run on Diet Coke. It’s no secret–and cans are hands down the best. There’s an ongoing canned soda shortage in Utah. Right now canned Diet Coke is almost impossible to find and more valuable than gold to those who drink it like water.

So I’m in Costco. I know there’s no possibility that they have any, but it never hurts to check, right? I get near where the canned soda is kept. It’s right near the end of a row, but I’m on the wrong aisle, so I follow their stupid flow patterns and go ALL the way around until I’m in the right aisle coming from the “approved” direction. I’m almost there when a mom with two strapping teenage sons comes down the wrong way and stops at the soda.

I watch as one son loads cases of Mountain Dew and Sprite while the other son rummages and pulls up a case–35 cans!–of Diet Coke. “Hey, Mom!” he says, “I got the last one!” He puts it under their cart.

I call out, “Lucky!” Just teasing a bit.

“Oh,” he says. “Did you want Diet Coke?”

“Yeah, but it’s okay,” I say. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Oh, you can have it,” he says, picking it up again.

Oops. This was not my intention. “No, really,” I say. “It’s fine. I was just teasing a little.”

“No, take it,” he says, walking over.

His mother is staring daggers at me. I’m pretty sure she’s buying things for a Super Bowl party. Teen boys don’t drink Diet Coke, but she probably does. The kid’s not oblivious to the waves coming off Mom.

He glances at her, a bit confused. “What? It’s just Diet Coke.” He chucks it under my cart.

One of the sample ladies magically appears. She nervously says to the mom, “Go up to the front and tell them you want Diet Coke. They may have some in the back.” Sample Lady gets the stakes. Maybe over the past few months she’s seen blows over this and is tired of mopping up blood.

“Oh? There’s more in the back?” I say.

The mom and I both know that there’s no way there’s some in the back, but I’m thinking it’s a graceful out for me. I can just say, “No, you keep it and I’ll talk to somebody up front.”

But the kid is undeterred in doing his good deed. “See,” he says to his mom, “We can just ask up front.” He turns to me, face shinning with the good manners he’s been taught, and I see that doing this is very important to him. It’s cementing a pattern of thinking of others before himself.

Yeah, it’s Diet Coke, and it doesn’t mean much to him. But refusing it might make him feel less like helping others in the future.

I look at the mom and tell her she’s raised good sons with my eyes. I smile at the kid beneath my Covid mask and say, “Thanks. I really appreciate it.”

He grins and says, “No problem,” and turns to grab regular Coke.

And I hele’d out of there so fast smoke was probably coming off my sneakers.

It was 35 cans of Diet Coke after all.

#amwriting #musejuice #GoodDeeds #Momisstillprobablypissed