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Drama and pizzazz

This past (three day - it was Prince Kuhio Day on Friday - it's great working for the State of Hawaii) weekend, I colored the bottom part of my hair. The box said fuschia. It's not quite as pink as I would like but it will do. And it was really easy, and I'm impressed it came out as well as it did in my dark hair. I've been looking for a little drama. My husband would argue that I have enough drama, but can you ever really have enough drama?

As I thought to myself that I was looking for a little drama, I thought of a story my mother likes to tell. It's a story a family friend used to tell, supposedly about his neighbors:

Harvey and Thelma had lived in the same house for ages. Their lives were very routine. Chicken on Tuesdays. Meatloaf on Wednesdays. Harvey had bowling on Thursdays. Well, one day, Thelma decided that she wanted a little pizzazz. So, while Harvey was at bowling, she rearranged the furniture. When he came home, he sat down to take his shoes off. Except the chair was gone. So, he ended up falling, hitting his head, and passing out. As the ambulance carried him away, Thelma was heard to say, "All I wanted was a little pizzazz...."

Car-ma

Sam and I just determined we have bad car-ma. He just called me at work, and started out with, "You know the glass in the car?"

Such a lead-in makes it easier to laugh at the inevitable bad news that's about to be shared. Thankfully, I have a husband who doesn't lose his cool, and had already arranged for everything to get our windshield replaced. So, instead of being a stress that our windshield is cracked, it's a relatively light-hearted event.

It's all in the delivery.

The ocean kicked my butt

I spent part of Saturday, the last day of the Fast, floating on a surfboard. I thought it would be much worse, since usually when we go surfing, I get really thirsty. (There's nothing more refreshing than getting under the shower - replacing the salt water with fresh.) But it wasn't too bad. Except when I managed to get pounded by a couple of waves. Or rather by my board, because I wasn't on it at the time. It struck me with great force in my thigh, and then, just when I thought I was getting control of the board, it hit me in my head. Luckily, the latter collision wasn't as forceful. I really thank my lucky stars that it was my thigh that got the brunt of it.
Want to see it, in all its glory, 24 hours after impact?

Don't worry, that's not my butt, despite the title of this entry. It really is my thigh. A huge part of my thigh. Here's a little perspective, another day later:

Don't you think the color coordinates nicely with the rest of this page?

My favorite parking lot

The other night I went to my favorite photocopying establishment. Just so there's no confusion, let me clarify that by favorite, I don't mean something you love above all others. I mean favorite, like something that makes you want to have a temper tantrum on somebody's head. And since, we're clarifying, it's not so much the establishment itself that's my favorite, it's the parking lot associated with it. Let me tell you why.

It was December 18, 2003, mid-day. I went to said establishment to make a color photocopy. This establishment is part of a strip mall on a major street, and has some crazy-ass parking. It's a strip mall with like six stores, and it's got one of those take-a-ticket-the-arm-goes-up-jobs when you go in, and a person collecting your money when you go out. Which is part of why I generally head to a different branch of the establishment, because who the hell installs a take-a-ticket-the-arm-goes-up-jobs at a strip mall? But, I was in a hurry, and my cheapness was satisfied when I drove up to the take-a-ticket-the-arm-goes-up-job and the sign on it said:
First 1/2 hour Free

So I press the button, I take the ticket, the arm goes up, and I go in the lot and park the car. I go into the establishment for five minutes. Max. I get in my car and pull up to the exit kiosk. I give her my ticket and wait her for her to raise the arm for me to leave. But instead, things got very Meet the Parents. You know that part when Gaylord Focker decides he's sick of jumping through hoops and starts to head back to Chicago? And the gate agent won't let him board until she's called his row, even though there's no one else waiting to board? And when she finally calls his row and he hands her his ticket, she acts like she's never seen him before? Yeah, like that.

So I give the attendant my ticket, and wait for the arm to go up.
"Three dollars, please."
"But I was parked less than half an hour."
"We don't have a grace period. You'll have to pay three dollars."
"It says first half hour free."
"Did you go to a store here?"
No, I just like to sit in strip mall parking lots, especially the kind with take-a-ticket-the-arm-goes-up-jobs. "Yes"
"The store has to validate the ticket for it to be free parking for the first half hour."
"So, you want me to back up, park the car, go back to the store and get this validated?"
"Yes."

Let me mention that by this time, another car had gotten in line behind me. But there was no way I was giving that woman three dollars. So that car had to back up. Then I backed up far enough to get into one of the angled parking spaces. I walked into the establishment, where, on the counter, for everyone and their mother to use, was the validation stamp. I stamped the damn ticket, got back in the damn car, drove the thirty feet to the damn kiosk, and wordlessly handed the ticket back to the attendant. She then had the nerve to study it, like she hadn't seen it and discussed it two minutes before.

And that concludes the story of my favorite parking lot.

Celebration of all cultures

As I've mentioned before, one of the things I like about Hawaii is that it's more of a tossed salad, than a melting pot. There's so many different cultures here, each celebrating their own, and picking up parts of other cultures - rather than all the cultures becoming homogenized.

All this, to preface that I just saw a St. Patrick's Day lei - alernating green and white flowers, with a green bow.

Free entertainment

Sometimes, my imagination entertains me, and Sam. I particulary appreciate that he is amused by it, since it tends to be pretty morbid. I've been living with my imagination my whole life. He's been living with it for only a couple of years.

This morning, there was a banging/knocking sound coming from the apartment next to ours, occupied by a couple and their two children.
What's that sound?
I don't know.
Oh no! What if one of them killed the other? And now they're hiding them in the wall?!
Giggles.

Comments

Sorry about that obnoxious message that seems to come up when attempting to post comments. I didn't create that and don't know who did. Help!

Almost-Spider Senses

Sam often comments that it must be hard to be me, going through life with such acute senses.
Me: What is that smell?! It's driving me crazy!
Him: I can't smell anything.

This morning, once awake, I was actually eager to get out of bed, because one of the first things I noticed was a light pattern flickering on part of the ceiling, near the window. My curiosity wanted satisfaction! I climbed on a chair to look out of the window, and looked all about. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary - the security light wasn't flickering, no houses across the street had their lights on yet, it didn't seem likely that the car moving up the hill would have caused it. With disappointment, I got down from the chair, concluding that either the pattern is always on the ceiling and I've just never noticed, or that it was due to something unusual out of my line of vision.

A few minutes later, I heard a fire engine's siren, coming down the street. It stopped, and then I heard some water. Yes, I went out on the lanai/walkway in my pajamas - my curiousity was going to be satisfied! I saw the rather undramatic scene of a firefighter directing water on the garbage in front of a house across the street, an area that was just below my line of vision when I was standing at the window. And when I went back in, the flickering light on the ceiling was gone.

I contemplated calling the nearby fire station to suggest that they train the neighbors across the street in appropriate waste management. It was the same house where I put out a little fire in the garbage last year, before it reached the point of needing professional attention.

Speaking of tongues

Sunday morning, I woke up at 6:00, ate breakfast, said a few prayers, and went back to sleep. Over the next few hours, I woke up every once in a while, only to be dragged back in to my dreams. Then my dad called, and I spent a few minutes groggily speaking with him. But then he woke me up fully, by saying, "Naysan got his tongue pierced."

My baby brother! With metal in his tongue! This is very strange to me. Of the three of us, it seems that he would be the last to get such, but I guess I was wrong since he's the only one to have done so. Anis and I have multiple ear piercings, and wanted them from a relatively young age. But, to my knowledge, Naysan never expressed an interest in putting any holes in his body.

For a while, I thought about piercing my nose, but decided my allergies would get in the way. And I entertained getting my eyebrow pierced, but was paranoid about snagging on a sweater. I also worried about the contradiction of dyed hair with preppy plaid shorts, but then decided that that was a very good reason to have blue hair - just to challenge people's preconceived notions. So I spent many nights in college in the bathroom with the Manic Panic.

I guess tongue rings are what college kids get these days? It makes me feel old to write such a sentence. Gosh darn, all these new-fangled things. Crazy kids....

Anís

Background
Bahá'ís follow the teachings of Bahá'u'lláh, Who revealed Himself as a Manifestation of God in 1863 in (what was then) Persia. In 1844, another Manifestation of God revealed Himself. This was the Báb, whose name means The Gate. In addition to being a Manifestation in His Own right, He also had the role of announcing the coming of Bahá'u'lláh. Bahá'ís often refer to The Báb and Bahá'u'lláh as the Twin Manifestations.

How Anís fits in
In 1850, the Báb was sentenced to death, as the government wanted to quell His influence. As He was led to prison, a young man, Mírzá Muhammad 'Alí, threw himself at His feet, begging the Báb to allow him to follow Him wherever He might go. Mírzá Muhammad 'Alí, who came to be known as Anís, was arrested as well, and put in the same cell as the Báb along with several other followers. That night, the Báb asked who among His followers was willing to take His life, rather than His being shot by His enemies. All were silent, except Anís, who out of obedience to the Báb, said he would carry out the task, if need be. The Bab allowed Anis, who was willing to comply with His wish, to be martyred with Him. My brother was named after this Anís, whose bestowed name means companion.

The next morning, July 9, 1850, the Báb was speaking with His secretary in His cell. An official came to lead Him outside. The Báb told the official that He was not yet finished and that until He was, He would not be silenced. The official ignored Him, and led him to the clergy, who signed His execution decree. The Báb and Anís were led into a courtyard, where they were attached to ropes driven into the wall with an iron nail. The commander of the soldiers who were to execute the Báb confided to Him that he did not desire to kill Him, and the Báb said that if his intentions were sincere, he would be freed of the obligation.

The 750 soldiers fired their rifles. When the smoke cleared, Anís was standing there, unscathed, and the Báb was not to be seen. The Báb was found back in His cell, continuing His conversation with His secretary. Once He had finished, He said the officials could carry out their intentions.

The commander was so spooked that he refused that his men try again. Another regiment came in to carry out the execution. The Báb and Anís were suspended again, and this time the bullets hit as intended. Their bodies were mangled, but their faces remained almost untouched.

Week Recap

I have a new job!
No, I didn't move to another office or anything. But my responsibilities have changed. This is the end of the first week in my new position, and it was much more satisfying than many of the weeks prior. Yay!

And I got my exam back from last week. An A! The second highest in the class! Woohoo!

I hosted Feast on Monday night. I made five Chocolate Haupia pies for the occasion. Before I left for Feast, I decided that four would suffice. It turned out to be a poorly attended Feast, so only two were consumed. Which meant that Sam and I each took a pie to work (and kept one for home, haha). It elevated my food status at work. Just 'cause I'm a vegetarian don't mean my food don't taste good!

I made it to pottery class for the first time in a month and had a lovely time.
Gilmore Girls made me laugh, as usual.
And the Fast has been going well.

All in all, it's been a good week.

Funny money

Please explain to me why a new nickel is being created.
I can understand the need for new paper money, as there is a counterfeit market for that, but I can't imagine that anyone makes conterfeit nickels. Can you imagine, setting up a basement mint, for the purpose of getting free...? What can you buy with a nickel these days? The material of a nickel is worth more than a nickel, so I guess if you bought a nickel for a nickel, you would get a good deal.
It's not like the Treasury has to keep things all fresh and exciting. It's money - we're going to use it, no matter what it looks like.

Anissa, the story is coming soon. Really.