The Start of Summer 2015

I am a fan of irony, but only when it doesn’t involve me. I made it through the entire school year without getting sick only to fall ill on Monday night. I was mostly on my back all of Tuesday, but recovered enough by this morning to get the hell out of the house. Tuesday would have been absolutely miserable if I hadn’t started watching Luther on Netflix. My throat hurts pretty badly when I swallow but other than that, I’m good.

Choke kine fish.

Choke kine fish.

He's not the only one in need of Lynnette's "Loving Touch".

Sorry there’s no scale. This guy  was huge.

I hit up the beach early and went snorkeling because that’s something I can’t do if I’ve got Mad around. I can never really get into the snorkeling and the picture taking if Mad’s around reminding me that she’s bored or cold or hungry or tired or wants a snack or watch this dad. No turtles today at Ko’olina, but I did run into the two biggest sea cucumbers I’ve ever seen in my life. They – like me –  were very much in need of Lynnette’s Loving Touch™.

It feels alien to do things without one or both of my girls. You know how when you were a teenager and people told you stuff like “you can’t let your whole identity get wrapped up in who you’re with”? Well, it happens when you start a family because there is very little else. I don’t mean it negatively, only that like anything else, it’s conditioning. I found myself constantly checking my watch while in the water because I had to pick up Madison from school at 12:30. I got to the beach before 8. That’s how my life is: there’s always something. On those rare occasions where there’s nothing, it’s as if I don’t know how to act, other than to run everything through my brain looking for some responsibility I’ve forgotten.

Self-gratification, yes.

Self-gratification, yes.

Yesterday I was made aware of the term masturdating by one of my former students. Urban Dictionary defines term as follows:

A term that was first coined on Late Night with Conan O’Brien. Masturdate is an intentional pun of masturbate. In this lewd yet satisfying activity, one will engage in an ordinary date with his/herself, with the objective to please and impress only themselves.

I have omitted the end of the definition because you’re smart enough to figure out how a masturdate generally ends. But, based on the definition above, it would seem my activities this morning (culminating in lunch at Sushi Bay) were a masturdate. I’m not even a little ashamed.

K-Den, First Grade!

K-Den, First Grade!

Great muscle memory, Mad.

Great muscle memory, Mad.

After the self-gratification, I picked up Madison at school. She had a huge grin on her face when I saw her and I asked her to jump for a picture a few times, so I could properly capture the emotion of a 7-year old making it to summer vacation. We did a great job, right?

Well, I promised her that we’d start the summer off right by hitting up the pool after her early dismissal. As usual, it began to drizzle in Mililani as we drove to the pool. “It’s fine, dad, we’re going to get wet anyway,” Madison said from the backseat. DON’T YOU USE YOUR LOGIC ON ME! But yeah, we did make it to Rec 7 to find the pool not too crowded and the center proudly serving Starbucks products. Going to the Rec Centers is supposed to save me money, damn it. Sigh.

Well, Mad broke out her new swimsuit. She loves it because it has a skirt; I love it because you guys can’t accuse me of using stock footage for my blog posts and summer pictures. Welp. I’ve got a little less than two months before I turn back into Mr. Higa, five months before our family increases by 67%. I think we’re gonna have to try for transcendence.

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