I played a pretty solid game this morning considering I didn’t have a single hit. I made the play on all of the balls hit in my direction and even recorded a force out by catching an errant toss with my bare hand. The team win sends us into championship weekend next Sunday; we will have to win twice to repeat as champions.
Well, I was pretty wiped out after the game. The combination of intense heat at Halawa and my tribal sunburn left me in pretty bad shape after the game. We drove to my parents’ house for lunch and I had day dreams of a nice shower, but alas, it would have to wait. “Grandma and Grandpa are painting!” Madison shouted as we pulled up to the driveway. “Awesome,” I said with zero enthusiasm. Madison sped into the house, Matty and I remained outside slowly peeling off the outermost layer of our uniform. A few minutes later, Madison emerged from the house. “Grandma and Grandpa are going to paint Uncle Matty and Aunty Tanya’s baby’s nursery… and we’re going to help!” she shouted. She disappeared once more. My mom popped out of the house and offered to feed us for dinner if we stayed to help paint. I mean, of course we were going to help. It just would have been nice to have been given some kind of head’s up or even the formality of being asked. When I talked to my mom earlier in the week she mentioned the beanbag, but nothing of painting. “This is an ambush,” I said. “This is worse than the time dad said we had to ‘move rocks,’ huh?” Matty said. “No, nothing will ever be worse than that.” I said. “Yeah, but at least you knew you were going to do some kind of work that time,” Matty countered. He was right. This was worse.
The painting of Madison’s unnamed cousin’s nursery began shortly after lunch. Of the four Higas pictured in the accompanying photograph, only one was excited for the project. That’s right, Madison Higa. She had her own mini-roller and everything. In case you’re wondering how she did, I would like to sum it up by simply saying she does not have paint in her hair. WIN.
Flashback: When I was a messy teenager (as opposed to a messy adult), my mom and I bickered constantly over the state of my room. She wanted me to clean it and I didn’t care. The most obvious solution came from me: I’ll close the door so she doesn’t have to see the mess. When I told my mom this in an attempt to broker peace between us, she replied “But I’ll know that it’s a mess.” That’s right. The door didn’t matter because in my mom’s mind’s eye, she could still see the mess.
Now, despite the fact that this room is being set up for Matty and Tanya’s child, it is still a room in Karen Higa’s house. As such, the room was painted in “barley”, which is another way of saying “boringly neutral”. What makes matters worse is that THIS IS THE EXACT SHADE OF PAINT THE WALLS OF THE ROOM (AND EVERY OTHER ROOM IN KAREN HIGA’S HOUSE) WERE ALREADY PAINTED.
When I asked my mom why she would have us repaint the room in the exact same color she used to word “refresh” and spoke of dings and nicks in the current paint. OK. When I pressed and asked why not another color, my mom said something like “When the twins come, you can paint the room whatever color you want.” I assume that when my mom closed her eyes and imagined her home with a single room in the house panted in Red Sox navy and red, she simply couldn’t handle it. It would have ruined the entire house. If that seems insane, I totally agree – but I played today’s softball wearing two knee pads…one was black and one was gray and the fact that they don’t match KILLS ME INSIDE. Stupid genetics.
After the painting was completed I watched the Cleveland Cavaliers win Game 2 of the NBA Finals despite some of the worst officiating I have ever seen. Lynnette and I took a short field trip to Zippy’s and Rainbow Tea House for a tub of mac salad and bubble drinks, respectively. As promised, my parents had dinner waiting. My dad’s meatloaf and gravy. Also, #ALLMAC.
So, if you haven’t been scoring at home, the final tally is a softball game, home improvement, two huge servings of dinner, and a strawberry lemonade with rainbow jelly. Once that AC hits the bedroom, I pity anyone within earshot because the Zs are going to get cut the hell up.