IMR: 1997: December: 21 -- Sunday, 6:40 p.m.
Mom's Place, Mililani, Hawai`i
Spent a lazy afternoon visiting mom. She leaves tonight with the Kaimuki High School Band for Flagstaff, Ariz., where the kids will perform for the Copper Bowl, and I wanted to see her one more time before Christmas.

We depart for the airport in an hour. She hasn't yet told my dear brother the news about his academic future.

William's with me. He spent much of the afternoon napping -- and snoring -- on the living room couch. Still catching up for finals week, I guess; still recovering from churning out 50 pages of papers in four days.

Mom has put out a couple of felt Santas, stockings and pointsettas, trying to bring some yuletide spirit into the house before taking off. I helped her set up a wobbly 2-foot plastic Christmas tree on the piano bench.

"Next year we'll get a real tree," she said. "It'll be baby's first Christmas."

"Oh yeah," I said, quietly breathing in the blast of reality.

William and I took a short trip to WalMart, just for the hell of it. Sheer pandemonium. Children and babies everywhere, clerks regularly calling for help over the P.A. system.

There's nothing like the kind of crowd you see in that place. The basic ethnic potpourri you get anywhere else in Hawai`i, with a good serving of military families from Wahiawa.

William is always fascinated by Mililani. "It's so not Hawai`i," he says, as we drive through its maze of cul-de-sacs and manicured landscaping. And he's right. This All American town (1989) could be anyplace on the Mainland. With the surrounding mountains, maybe Colorado.

As is the tradition during visits here, I've raided the closets. Chicken, sugar, toilet paper, kleenex and paper towels.

We're watching Dateline "Ambush TV" NBC. They just did a gotcha on U-Haul. Now, William's being mesmerized by the piece on the Han Twin murder conspiracy -- Korean valedictorians "good twin bad twin" scenario in story worthy of a TV movie.

"I think Gina's evil," the prosecutor said.

"Yeah, but she's pretty," William said.

Oop. Time to go.

Monday, 12:08 a.m.
Our Apartment, Mililani, Hawai`i
Just got in from seeing "Tomorrow Never Dies." I'm still no fan of Pierce Brosnan, but I've decided he doesn't suck nearly as much as Timothy Dalton.

Michelle Yeoh was pretty good. She doesn't need Q's high-tech gadgetry to kick ass. While I should've expected it, I was actually disappointed Bond got her in the end.

No calls from the lawyer or the police. I called and left messages earlier this afternoon, so I've done what I can. I'm figuring we'll have to do our interview on Tuesday, when both Jen and I are off. Or perhaps Wednesday -- Christmas Eve -- since we've got that sonogram Tuesday afternoon.

Not that I want to put it off. Scared as I am, I don't want this stretching into 1998 if it doesn't absolutely have to.

Jen's finishing up her e-mail now. I think I've gone one too many nights staying up after she turns in this past week, so I'll be calling it a night here.

Good lord. Now we're discussing the meaning of the lyrics of "Wannabe" by the Spice Girls. I'm definitely going to bed.


© Ryan Kawailani Ozawa · E-Mail: · Created: 21 December 1997 · Last Modified: 23 December 1997