They're back. My life's complete again. Much happiness.
![[ Courtesy Jen's mom. Click thumbnail for full-size image. ]](http://www.lightfantastic.org/gallery/albums/200105/10mouse.thumb.jpg) |
| Katie and Jen with the famous mice at Disneyworld. |
![[ Courtesy Jen's mom. Click thumbnail for full-size image. ]](http://www.lightfantastic.org/gallery/albums/200105/10pooh.thumb.jpg) |
| Katie and Jen with Winnie the Pooh. Katie's starstruck. |
![[ Eyemodule 2 shot. Click thumbnail for full-size image. ]](http://www.lightfantastic.org/gallery/albums/200105/12waialae.thumb.jpg) |
| The view at Waialae Country Club during the MCC benefit dinner. |
![[ Eyemodule 2 shot. Click thumbnail for full-size image. ]](http://www.lightfantastic.org/gallery/albums/200105/13gift.thumb.jpg) |
| Jen's mother gets my Mother's Day gift, and Katie gets the box. |
![[ Eyemodule 2 shot. Click thumbnail for full-size image. ]](http://www.lightfantastic.org/gallery/albums/200105/15back.thumb.jpg) |
| They're back! Katie still remembered me! |
![[ Eyemodule 2 shot. Click thumbnail for full-size image. ]](http://www.lightfantastic.org/gallery/albums/200105/21eng.thumb.jpg) |
| Back to school – summer school. This is English 383: Children's Lit. |
IP273D Classmates: Bryce Morihara, Brent Ushijima, Scott Melelai, Ikaika Hudgens, Joseph Correia, Ke'ala Ka'eo, Stan Vasai, Pauline Kuki Kaiwi, and Terrence Quinsaat. |
The next morning I went to work. Jen and Katie relaxed and played. It took a few days to unpack, a few more to readjust to Hawaii time, but we swiftly and smoothly settled back into our groove.
I suppose it seems almost anticlimactic, after how much I missed them and thought about them. But, I guess, here joy is measured not in jumping and screaming, but simply in the full sense of completeness, of home. I was thrilled to have Cheerios crushed in the carpet again.
Besides, counting the days and, eventually, hours until my life returned from the East Coast was a mindbending exercise.
Part of me lamented how little time I had left to Get Stuff Done — I regretted being a sloth for so long before getting busy — but most of me really wondered how I was going to manage another night without their addictive laughter and sweet kisses.
Every day I dawdled and hung late at the office, and every night when I finally headed home and opened the door to our apartment, I got this hungry, cavernous feeling, knowing the only souls who were there to care were the little striped cockroaches visiting from next door. I'd put one of Jen's eight MP3 collections on, settle at her computer with a bag of Doritos, and I'd listen to cheesy butt rock and browse every backwater corner of the web until I had to crash.
Fortunately, Jen called often, and I talked to Katie every time ("Oh, hi daddy! What's going on?"), and each report from Florida brought tales of wonderful memories being made. They flew up to Virginia to visit Jen's brother, sister-in-law, and Eric — Katie's only first cousin. They made it to Epcot and Disneyworld, where Katie rubbed shoulders with giant cartoon characters and experienced "It's a Small World." And, when things finally warmed up, they spent more time out and about, and on the beach at Daytona.
And I did keep busy. I joined dad at Wai`alae Country Club for a benefit dinner for the Mo`ili`ili Community Center, where chef Alan Wong was honored and where the sister of Hawaii First Lady Vicki Cayetano provided the evening's entertainment. I made it to see Memento (twice) and A Knight's Tale. I did reasonably well on my Indo-Pacific Languages final (and dubbed some videos for the instructor on the side to maximize kiss-up points). I revisited my academic plan and decided to go whole hog over the summer to graduate early. And I bought a van.
Yeah, a van. I was pretty shocked.
A lot of things contributed to this particular — and to many, perplexing — development. Of course there was the dementia of being apart from my wife and daughter. There was the fact that my old car, despite receiving over $1,000 in repairs over the last six months, decided it was time to join the choir invisible. And there was the sad but unavoidable truth that... well, I was so comfortable in the domain of content domesticity that it pretty much made sense to me.
Frankly, after having a complete stranger comment on my high dork quotient, I figured why fight it. There was no need to reluctantly progress through a reasonable but sporty Honda, then a sleek but practical Ford Taurus Wagon. I jumped all the way to seven-passenger squaresville.
Of course I did all my research online. Then I hunted for the van itself online, at local dealer and classified websites. I even got price quotes online. I'd compiled a thick folder of printouts by the time I confessed my plan to my mom, and not two days later she joined me in a drive over to the Windward side to make the deal.
I admit, Curt the salesguy nearly tempted me with a shiny black Accord that had just come in. But it was more expensive, four years older, was just shy of 100,000 miles, and had little quirks that signaled to me a previous owner who liked to tinker.
I stuck with the van. A bare-bones but clean and well-maintained Dodge Caravan (the quintessential minivan). The number on the windshield was $6995, but after a mercifully short round of haggling (much more pleasant than the nightmare that was Tony Honda), I nabbed it for five grand complete.
"This is it," I sighed, signing on the dotted line, instantly aging ten years. "Next stop, the PTA."
The van felt incredibly weird to drive, at first. The Maxima was practically a low-rider, for one thing, and suddenly I was five feet above the road. But most of the adjusting had to do with sheer size. I clipped a few curbs and took several tries to squeeze into parking spaces, but fortunately, eventually, I got a good handle on its edges.
So much of the last couple of weeks was spent checking out and dressing up the new wheels, getting rid of the old car, and resisting the urge to tell Jen, who was thus a little surprised when I picked her up at the airport.
I really hated saying goodbye to the Maxima. But its demise was literally a matter of life or death.
When I took it in to blow $300 on a new exhaust system, the worried mechanics told me that the "strange gas smell" I'd been living with for the last couple of months was in fact a leaking injector — and they lifted the hood and showed me where liquid gas was spraying all over the place. They couldn't believe I'd driven it so long without bursting into flames, and suffice it to say, they didn't recommend I drive it again.
Not surprisingly, it was going to cost much more to fix than the car was worth, so I ended up transferring ownership to my mom, then transferring ownership to the local kidney foundation, which will now give my mom a juicy tax deduction. Ah, even in death, the old chariot just keeps on giving...
Another major, and only slightly less expensive, development was my new summer school plan.
Now, presuming I pass my Indo-Pacific languages class, I need only seven "Non-Introductory" elective credits to graduate. Of course, since most courses only come with three-packs of credits, that meant three classes (for nine credits).
Originally I was going to take one class over the summer, and in the fall, one night or weekend class and one regular class. In other words, one class at a time, as has been my habit, to hopefully walk in December.
But in a flash of madness, sparked by things at work, I formulated a new plan.
Of primary concern was our October conference in Shanghai, which would have meant missed classes, and lots of catching up on the brink of finals. And of secondary concern was, frankly, what was going to happen to my place of employment immediately following said conference.
The solution was to chase all nine credits at once. To take three classes this summer — pathetically, the largest course load I'd even contemplated in years. But. In addition to taxing the already drained piggybank, and facing the prospect of having to actually buckle down and study, this plan would also require me to be on campus five (six, actually) days a week.
I sent a whimpering e-mail to my boss while he was vacationing in Rome, and bit off every one of my nails. Would it be okay, I asked, if I only worked from noon to six every day for six weeks?
Fortunately, he said yes. Lord knows if and how it'll affect my paycheck, but I'll manage. I just have to do this. (In fact, my academic resolve had gotten to the point where, if my boss ended up saying no, I probably would have resigned to do it anyway.) I guess the closer the end gets, after nine years, the more impatient I become.
I love that I once didn't even care about graduating, and now it's one of the things I want most of all. Where was this passion when I watched all my classmates graduate in 1996?
The great thing is, I just need upper-division courses. Any course numbered 300 or above will do. Any course.
So I'm taking the following:
- Religion 353: Witches & Witchcraft
- English 383: Children's Literature
- Speech 333: Storytelling
The first two run through June, Monday through Friday, 9 a.m. to noon, and the last is Saturday mornings only, 8 a.m. to noon, running June through August. And if all goes well, by god, should be it.
I've only had two class meetings so far, for Witchcraft and Children's Lit, but early indications are, not only will all go well, but I'll probably enjoy myself too.
![[ PGP ]](/pgp.gif){kind=small}