Archive for May, 2014

Life of grasshopper

By
May 16th, 2014



In the morning, I heard a bloodcurdling little-girl scream from the bedroom followed by, "MOMMY MOMMY MOMMY MOMMY MOMMY!!!!!!!"

I calmly walked over to see what the panic was about. I was sure it was nothing traumatic (unless you consider the bug's feelings) and I was right. There was the tiniest two inch grasshopper sitting on the floor, with Olivia dancing around it and pointing.

"It's a grasshopper, Hon. You have seen that before," I chuckled.

Olivia followed my cue and converted her energy to interest. "Can I keep it as a pet? Please?" she begged.

"Just for the day," I relented. "But then you have to let it go tonight."

"Whyyyyy? I just want a pet!" whined my daughter, as if having a 70 pound dog, cat, six bowls of fish, and a tank of shrimp isn't enough.

"Just today," I said firmly, and left.

Later that morning the conversation resurrected between Olivia and my dad. "What is it going to eat?" my dad pointed out. "I don't know what grasshoppers eat, and you need to feed it."

Nobody in the house knew what grasshoppers eat, and most importantly, I do not care what they eat because I will not be feeding it. I reminded her she had to release it back to nature tonight. She complained back at me.

I happened to be baking cookies. "If you love it, set it free, because it needs to live outside, Sweetie. Besides, I will trade you the life of one grasshopper for a coconut macaroon," I offered.

That took all of three seconds. She raced out the door and reappeared in five minutes. She showed it to the neighbor kids first then came home. "I let it go, Mommy!" she confirmed.

"Great, Honey! That's so wonderful of you. That was so nice to that bug," I complimented.

"I want to cash in on my cookie now," she reminded.

So I see. The lesson is less about the value of life and love, and more about motivation by bribery.

Malia Craver hula competition at Kamehameha Schools

By
May 15th, 2014



Mark your calendar for the annual Malia Craver Hula Kahiko Competition. Ticket sales are available for the Saturday, May 17 event at Kekūhaupiʻo Gymnasium at the Kamehameha Schools Kapālama campus. The event kicks off at 10 a.m. This year, Kamehameha Schools Hawaiian Ensemble (KHE) is hosting the event with proceeds benefiting Kalihi-Palama Culture & Arts Society (KPCA).

Participating in the Middle School competition will be Cathedral Catholic Academy, Kamehameha Middle School Kapālama, Kamehameha Middle School Keaʻau, Kamehameha School Maui, Ka Waihona ʻo Ka Naʻauao, Ke Kula ʻo Nāwahīokalaniʻopuʻu LPCS, Mililani Middle School, and Saint Louis School. Participating in the High School competition will be Hilo High School, Kamehameha Hawaiian Ensemble, Kamehameha Schools Maui, Lahainaluna High School, Punahou School, Saint Louis School, and St. Joseph Jr. Sr. High School. There will be three categories: Kane (men), Wāhine (women) and Hui ʻIa (both men and women). Dancers will be judged based on chanting style, interpretation of the dances and cultural appropriateness of costumes and adornments.

Tickets are $8 for students and $10 for adults. To purchase tickets and for more information call the Kalihi-Palama Culture & Arts Society office at (808) 521-6905 or email info@kpcahawaii.com.

Professional functions

By
May 14th, 2014



Occasionally, this housewife still attends professional functions. It might be a club I belong to, a networking mixer, or a freelance job.

Olivia HATES it when I am not around at bedtime. She is closer to me and our routine is for me to tuck her in and sit with her for a while (or maybe I fall asleep.)

I tell her, "Mommy is going to a work function tonight so you and Daddy stay home." She gets upset and does or says something clingy. It's cute, but it doesn't change my plans.

"Take me with you! Can I come?" she begs.

I felt bad because there were two functions in two weeks, which is relatively a lot for our lives now. "How's about this. What if you and I held our own work function?" I suggested. "You and I can go out at night and do our own function!"

"YES!" she replied happily.

"OK, what should we do at our work meeting?" I asked.

"We should count candy and then eat it!" she said.

"Is that what you think I do at my work functions?" I queried.

"I don't know, but that is what we can do at our work function!" she exclaimed. "Then we can vote on the most best ones!"

It's a date. We're coordinating our calendars to slot a candy-vetting process in soon. I may have a hard time topping this type of meeting when I actually have a real job again.

Huntress cat

By
May 12th, 2014



Ocho, my domesticated feline, is up to catching her own dinner again. One day recently, we woke up and found a small cluster of feathers in the garage. She comes and goes into the garage as she pleases.

There were little downy chest feathers and a few wing pieces with bloody nubs. That confirmed for me that she had murdered an unfortunate zebra dove overnight in our garage.

IMG_0827

It was Olivia who found it, and she came yelling back into the house for us to come look! at the bird bits! all over the ground! Look look look!!

She is six and thinks it's way cool to see blood and guts. She marveled at it for a while until I reminded her to go in and get ready for school. Yes, it was that early in the morning to be dealing with life and death issues.

Ocho with different bird.

Ocho with different bird.

When I went to sweep up the mess (Housewife= my job to tend the home) (love it; not complaining) I found that the bloodiest wing piece had actually dried itself to the ground, and as I swept it towards the dust bin, it hung on with one long vein. Like a yo yo, but disgustinger.

I let out a long and anguished cry of repulsion that I now had to get closer to this meaty bit by picking it up with a napkin.

Olivia had come back out and was watching my misery with much amusement. My wailing about this yucky development just made her bust out in peals of laughter.

I'm so glad this all exists for her entertainment.

Claus then joined her outside and also started pointed and laughing at me.

My family. *sigh + eye roll*

The cat was actually licking its mouth and watching with the usual cat disinterest. No wonder she was not eagerly waiting outside the screen door this morning with her usual nonstop yowls for food.

Ocho in repose.

Ocho in repose.

I cleaned it, I bleached the bloody spot, and now I'm worried that the rest of the bird is elsewhere in the garage or the garage loft, which the cat has figured out how to jump into.

We keep all our storage items in the loft so it would really suck to find a desiccated bird up there months from now. It would actually suck more to find a rotting, smelly, insect-ridden corpse lingering in the corner of the garage some days from now. UGH.

What do cats normally do with the dead body? Where do they eat it? I didn't find the rest of the bird upon a cursory inspection. Any thoughts from the blogosphere?

Ocho is a feral cat. I got her from the parking lot of KHNL8 (hence the name Ocho = 8) when she was a few months old. She had learned to hunt and (city cat) to forage in trash cans for food.

Her cushy life with us bipeds broke her for many years of her birding and rummaging habit, and for the last five years or more, she has not caught anything noteworthy I can recall (past the errant gecko or large cockroach.)

She will be eleven this year and I guess the old girl still has it in her to hunt and kill. I just hope she does most of her killing outside where I don't have to clean up after her.

Cat's eye

By
May 9th, 2014



There are just some statements in my parenting life that I could not have ever anticipated coming out of my mouth. I gave Olivia a kiss just as she turned her head, so I ended up kissing her eyeball.

I felt it and she obviously felt it. It was wet. She blinked a few times and scolded me for kissing her open eye. "Sorry, Sweetie!" I said.

"Don't touch my eye!"

Ocho: "Don't touch my eye!"

"That's OK. I touch Ocho's eyeball," she admitted.

I raised my eyebrows and said with surprise, "You do? Really? Why?"

"Yeah. I hold her like this and I touch her eye," continued Olivia, demonstrating a headlock and an extended index finger. "I do it every day."

Now, I'm not sure if she really gives the cat a daily eye poke, but even one time is one too much. "Olivia, that's not nice. The cat doesn't like that. Don't do that again, OK?"

"Aww. Just one more time? I want to feel how wet her eye is," she pleaded.

One more time? Feel how wet her eye is?

No. Just, no.

I have followed up twice with her just to be sure she is not doing this. "You're not touching the cat's eye, right?"

No, she assures me. I believe her. And I can't believe I have assembled those words together in a sentence. Parenting is such a trip.

Recent Posts

Recent Comments

Archives