Let There Be Light! And Meat Jun!

Lynnette and I thought this day might never come. But it has, and we have Uncle Geno to thank.

Buggah Cherreh.

Buggah Cherreh.

Mad taking notes.

Mad taking notes.

I don’t even know exactly how long ago it was that the light above our island in the kitchen stopped working, but it feels like forever. The stars aligned today and Geno came over to fix it for us. Lynnette drove Madison to her dentist appointment (no cavities!) and I stayed home to await the arrival of my favorite electrician. He spent a few minutes inspecting, made a call, then we drove down to Lowe’s to find the replacement.

This makes the third time this week Geno and I have hung out. We were both at Matty’s surprise party, and he and his girlfriend Shannon hung out at my parents’ house last night with Lynnette, Matty and I (I am positive Tanya would have loved to cruise also, but once Madison found her, it was all over). Anyway, we talked about a bunch of stuff on the way to and from Lowe’s. “Just like old times,” Geno said of our three meet-ups this week. “Well,” I said, “This means we’re covered through November, I suppose.” I hope not.

In the end, he did fix the light and I imagine this is what those first cro-mags must have felt like the first time one of them lit himself on fire by accident, or at least what Cubs fans must have felt like during that first night game at Wrigley. We had been relying on stove hood light, the recessed light above the sink, and the dining room light. All of those lights created a halo around the island. Lynnette is in the kitchen right now and she’s thrilled about being able to see things clearly at night. So am I, actually. We’ve gone so long without it that it seems crazy to see such bright light in our home.

Thank you, Unko. She prime.

Of course I didn't touch the greenery.

Of course I didn’t touch the greenery.

Don't be mistaken, Madison is happy about her snacks.

Don’t be mistaken, Madison is happy about her snacks.

Yes, we practice our wrestling moves at baseball games.

Yes, we practice our wrestling moves at baseball games.

After spending a windy afternoon napping, we headed into Wahiawa to catch a Damien baseball game. We hit up Dong Yang for takeout before heading over to the field. The meat jun is amazing. I feel like I am going to have dreams about it tonight. We set ourselves up along the first base line and started to pig out. In less than 5 minutes, a batter hit a fly ball that drifted in our direction. Lynnette shouted something and I looked up. It was going to be close. I closed up my tray and held it in my first hand, then stood. The ball landed six feet into my left, robbing everyone of something special. I am positive it would have been a thing to behold to watch me protect my family and my meat jun with one hand.

I was also exited to try out our camera during the game. I haven’t loaded any pictures yet, but I don’t think I got too many good ones. I don’t know whether it was the lighting or the distance, but I feel as if I won’t have too many good shots. I still have to do some reading on settings and things of that nature. It should be okay so long as photography doesn’t become an expensive hobby. Then again, my desire to purchase $200 shoes and $300 softball bats is tempered by the fact that Lynnette would go batshit crazy if I came home with either of those items. But those are my hobbies. Lynnette is a better photographer than I am (which isn’t saying much) and she pushed for the purchase of the camera (which does say a lot). Maybe we’ll be able to finally add that elusive third thing in common to our relationship. Unreal.

On tap for tomorrow: the Honolulu Academy of Arts. See you there!

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