Archive for May, 2011

Marc-O's Hawaii Five-O role

May 18th, 2011

My very funny photographer friend Marco Garcia got his 15 minutes of fame in front of the camera on a May 2, 2011 episode of Hawaii Five-O alongside singer Rick Springfield. Marco is a friend, yeah I know he’s been a good friend of mine.

Marco in loud aloha shirt

Marco in loud aloha shirt

He was hired to coordinate a realistic photo shoot that the plot would hinge around; a famous fashion photographer is killed, and Mc Garret and Danno solve the homicide. "I was tasked to coordinate all photographic lighting and grip equipment.  Production relied on my skills to make it look believable as well as functional as I also had to assist Hawaii Five-O director Brad Turner (Alias, Smallville, 24, and many others) during his real photo shoot," says Marco. In the end, it was decided Marco should get on camera and play the photographer's assistant as well.

Cindy, Jordan, Marco, me, Kirsten- after a shoot

Cindy, Jordan, Marco, me, Kirsten- after a shoot

Lately something’s changed, it ain’t hard to define. Marco's got himself an acting job and now he thinks he's all fine. "The actor, no less, was RICK SPRINGFIELD.  Yes, Jessie’s Girl, General Hospital, mega 80′s great.  How fun," continues Marco, who says Springfield was better at being on camera than working one.

Therefore, Marco had to teach Springfield. "I had to channel my inner Austin Powers and gave Springfield such key phrases as 'right in the lens, baby,' 'give it to me, baby,' and other over-the-top phrases that make for good TV." Marco's been funny; he's been cool with the lines. Ain’t that the way a photog's supposed to be?

I remember Rick Springfield as an 80's teen sensation. Oh, he was so cute. Me and all my girlfriends used to swoon over his picture.


Marco sent a photo. Springfield looks a bit different now.


I wish that I was Jessie's girl.

More on this in Marco's blog at


May 16th, 2011

In my brief stint as a housewife, which I enjoyed greatly, I joined Ben Franklin Craft Club. It's true. I never thought I would be that person, but there I was, in 2009, filling out my Crafter Club Card. If this does not say "Mom," I'm not sure what does.

When I was younger my mother used to drag me to Michaels, a chain of craft stores where we lived in San Jose, California. We spent part of each year in Oahu and while I don't know the craft store name, I definitely remember many summers spent at Auntie Bobbie's condo doing a zillion and one craft projects: macrame owls, ribbon barettes, feather barettes, pom pom animals, towel animals, dish scrubbers, Fimo clay flowers, etc. Or as Claus puts it, "I don't know half those words you just said. What's the macaroni thing?"

After I got laid off and made a conscious choice to not immediately work so that I could be a stay-at-home mom, I was excited to be able to give my daughter all the pleasures of youth that I had. I started going to Ben Franklin to do little projects, and the day that I realized I was on a first-name basis with the staffers, I decided to join the Craft Club. It gives you a discount on most purchases. I'm obviously spending a lot of money there.

I'm quite busy with my new-ish job. I don't have time to bead, bedazzle, bake, and craft as much as I used to. The staff noticed but hasn't forgotten me, because when I went back last month, the cashier said, "Haven't seen you in a while. How's your daughter?"

My year was almost up for the card. I hardly visit the store lately, but I made it a point to renew my club card right there. To me, it's my official Mom card, and I like that.

What do you assosciate with parenting?

Also reach me via 


May 13th, 2011

Bath and body shops smell so good to me. When I walk into the spa at work, I just want to take home all the retail products so that my house will smell the same. Yum!

Last weekend, I was in Kailua at a toiletry shop. I was buying a present for a friend and couldn't resist buying a candle for myself. Last time I was there, I bought air freshner, but it wasn't as exciting as I expected when I got home. I think a candle will provide the same delightful scent that I experience in the store.

I lit the candle and put it on the kitchen counter while Claus and I were relaxing in the afternoon. It was so warm and inviting, and the scent of pikake filled the room on a beautiful, breezy day. After an hour, I exclaimed, "I am so happy with that freaking candle."

Without missing a beat, Claus looked at me and said, "I cannot tell you how much I hate that candle. It smells like roach poison."

He hates frilly things like perfume, massage oil, scented lotion - or even any lotion. He will not tolerate hair spray, even on family portrait day. This man!

I was amused at his strong reaction, though I can't say surprised, given the above statement. I was hoping that scented candles would somehow not fall under the category of intense dislike, but I really wasn't sure, as we don't have air freshners and diffusers at home.

"This means I cannot bring it into the bedroom?" I asked, knowing the answer.

"It smells like Raid. No."

"I don't quite get the insect poision comparison," I said.

"It smells like a mosquito punk," he insisted.

"It smells like flowers!" I defended.

"I'll tolerate it on the kitchen counter. At least I haven't been bitten by a mosquito in the last hour," he conceded.

Well, marriage is compromise, right?

What do you and your partner compromise on?


Also reach me via

Posted in dad, family, mom | 8 Comments »

Happy Feather's Day!

May 11th, 2011

Feathers, Mothers. Same thing. That's how Olivia greeted me on Sunday. She gave me a cute mug she made in preschool with her handprints and a lovely poem. She wrote my name on a card with her adorable penmanship. And she picked out, with Daddy, a pint of ice cream.



My parents came for breakfast. We observe most special occasions (and many un-special ones) at my house. It could be that I have counter space and chairs that don't require Congressional action to clear off. (Raise your hand if you recognize hoarding.) It could be that my mother's affection for cooking is at an inverse ratio to her age. The older she gets, the less she wants to cook. My father takes 20 minutes to make toast. It's probably a combination of all three factors. Claus cooked breakfast, as he does yearly.


They walked in with some beautiful potted flowers for me- my favorite, a Gerber daisy, and another equally pretty pink flower of a different variety. That's so sweet.


We enjoyed our meal. Everything was delightful. Some moments you just want to put in your pocket and take with you forever. I can't, but I can remember it fondly. I'm grateful for this day.

Also reach me via

Twirly girl

May 9th, 2011

The criteria for dresses has become twirl-ability. In the morning, Olivia often asks to wear a dress, and she has her favorites based on pouf of the skirt portion. Her favorite is this very '80s looking, faded blue sundress with a huge skirt.

I like different dresses and when I suggest my fashion choices, she will counter with, "That dress doesn't twirl much, Mommy." Like, duh, Mommy? Everyone knows it has to twirl.

When I put the dress on her, she spins in the mirror to test the twirl factor. If her favorites are in the hamper, she will begrudingly go with a C or D list choice, but she will complain, "It's not that twirly." Read: do the laundry, Mother!


I had taken her to my hotel's Easter egg hunt because I was working on Easter Sunday. There, I ran into other staffers volunteering at the egg hunt. My friend from Front Office, Serah, asked, "Which one is your daughter?"

Claus and Olivia

Claus and Olivia

"There," I pointed out. "Blue dress." It was a C-list dress, and Olivia gave me heat in the morning. I laughingly mentioned that.

"Of course. I can see that it's not a very twirly dress. Same for my three year old. It's devastating when it's doesn't spin; don't you know that?" Serah joked.

Serah, another mom who knows her twirl

Serah, another mom who knows her twirl

I am considering taking sewing lessons so I can make Olivia a dress that's twirl-on-steroids. It's going to just be one big poofy skirt. It's going to be so twirly, you're going to see the skirt before the kid even enters the room. Of course, by then, she'll be into something totally different, like ruffles.

Also reach me via

Recent Posts

Recent Comments