Friday, April 10, 2009

It Ain't All Rainbows & Margaritas

My noon today was a near-perfect metaphor for my week. I was due in my boy’s classroom, where I am reading Cricket in Times Square to the class, a little every day, New York-y voices and all (well, as best as I can do). To deal with the everyday storytime, chores and errands have required tight-ish planning. This is all very exciting, I know.

It’s Seattle, with loads of water, and multiple drawbridges to get across bits of said water. Often as not, the bridges go up and just as quickly, back down. Except, of course, when I’ve planned to get to a classroom to read a story with only a five-minute margin of error. It was right then that a tremendously slow boat with a huuuuuge clearance issue needed to go under the bridge that I needed to cross.

And then, right after that, a car broke down at a light. And then, of course, because Seattle is strewn steep hills, it turned out that a bus was stopped in the middle of the street because the driver has forgotten to attach its bizarre antennae-things to the wires that run along many hills to give buses a little extra boost up hills. And he was very sloooooowly attaching the antennae, as traffic backed up behind him, and an impatient class of 3rd graders angrily awaited me.

And seriously? 9 and 10-year-olds extremely accusatory people when you have something that they want, have promised them something that they want, and don't give it to them. And they want their damn story-time, particularly from chicks who “do the voices.” I arrived to a ticked-off audience of midgets (who, okay, are all almost as tall as me).

Fortunately, since this particular group of 9 and 10-year-olds also lives in Seattle, they were deeply sympathetic to the frustrations of being trapped by an open drawbridge.

But so has gone my week. Petty little things just keep going awry. It’s not really enough to feel bad for me about (it’s not, say, massive plumbing leaks in the basement, knock on wood, and I was just in Hawaii), but despite the small scale, it's been tiresome.
Also, I’m not in Hawaii this week, which might not make YOU feel bad for me, but sure as hell makes ME feel bad for me (well... maybe not bad. I did get to go. But I'm definitely sorry that I'm not still there), since last week this time, I was quite happily hanging out there. If it makes you feel any better, the weather was… not the best we’ve ever had. It was windy and cool (ish), and rainier than usual for early April. But we were still totally blissed out being there. When you get down to it, bad weather in Hawaii counts as nice weather almost anywhere else.

It may not be all rainbows and margaritas on the mainland. But… it kinda is in Hawaii (well, not the margarita part. Although my margaritas are generally requested in Hawaii and then slurped down with great speed, the average person’s liver can only drink them once about every three to six months. They’re a leeeeettle strong.).

Stumpy and I successfully indoctrinated both kids to the joys of that Hawaiiana gut-bomb special: the plate lunch. They were ecstatic. What could be better fried schtuff with a scoop of rice and a side of poke (a raw fish salad)? I have to admit, they do have a point with questions like that. Their total glee in finding out about the joys of the plate lunch (usually enough to hold you over for two days, and almost always running between $7.50 and $8.75 for a ridiculous amount of food) was almost as fun to see as their tremendous disappointment that some plate lunch counters simply serve a side of macaroni salad (blech. A big scoop of mayo-covered blandness) instead of letting you pick a poke (and if you say it "poke" instead of poke-ee, it sounds a little pornographic and not at all like something grade schoolers should be picking out, even with their mom's permission. Even with adjusted pronunciation, it sounds a little shady. Tastes good, though.).
We walked up a little bit of the Kalalau trail, so that the kids could get a glimpse of the Na Pali coast. We walked along the public bike path on the east coast. We had plate lunches. We enjoyed the non-nut-of-doom laden offerings from the Kilauea Bakery. We ate a ridiculous amount of grilled fish. We snorkeled and watched fish and eels and crabs. Shave ice was munched on. The Kilauea lighthouse was visited. Cards were played. Margaritas were consumed (only once. Stumpy, rather unsportingly, accused me of trying to kill him.) Geckos were caught (and released. Although we appeared to have frightened one poor gecko enough that it dropped its tail. Very surreal, and also: sorry, Gecko.). In short, we hit all the old favorites and had a great time.

And now, we just have to get Curly through the frequently nut-mined treats of Easter.


Iheartfashion said...

Just finished reading Cricket In Times Square to my 7 and 8 year olds. Loved it!

Meg said...

It's a good one, isn't it?
I wasn't sure how it would go over with 3rd grade boys - it doesn't have a villain, nothing is destroyed and nobody gets a comeuppance, but even the skeptical ones ended up liking it.