Nov 26, 2007

Thanksgiving, 2007

Day 1

We played much scrabble on the plane. I mostly won. I discovered that I looooove Magic Loop, and will knit socks with Magic Loop always and forever, Amen. Guy discovered that he likes Thomas Pynchon.

We ran to make our connecting flight. No, really ran. As in out of breath ran.

We arrived in Hilo in the rain. We went to sleep.

Day 2

We hiked, and my Dad was crabby he didn't get to play tennis. He complained that he had a headache, but really he was just crabby about the tennis.

We picked berries and my mom made Ohelo berry pie. Guy helped--he picked out worms. All of the worms. Yes indeed, for I ate no worms.

Day 3

Guy and I went to Waipio Valley, which I've been trying to arrange for the past three years. It was worth it.

We tromped around in the mud and through streams and hey look there are some stoned hippies and whoa more stoned hippies and that's fun.

And it was sure pretty.

Then we had dinner at the world's worst Mexican restaurant that my dad loves onlybecause he likes being difficult but they do have good margaritas so we ordered a pitcher but then it turned out my dad wasn't drinking and Guy was driving so it was just me and my mom and oy.

Day 4

Guy and I went to Richardsons and ate a ton of Hawaiian junk food (and also a ton of ants) and lay in the sun and saw big splashy waves and turtles but the water was cold so we didn't go swimming. Then we went home and made dinner and I took a bath in my huge ginormous clawfooted bathtub that I miss terribly and then we played scrabble and I won but then we played Trivial Pursuit and I lost.

My mom has always been crazy busy but now that my dad is all judgy they're both crazy busy so we didn't get to see as much of them as I would have liked. But we made them stuff they probably don't eat even though they can get it all the time--poke and poi and haupia. Which didn't harden really, so it was haupia creme. Still tasted good.

We played trumps. Dad and I won.

Day 5

I got a migraine. We didn't go to the beach, but stayed home and watched Slapshot. Cause you know, nothing makes your head feel better like watching other people's heads get pounded into the ice. I took another bath.

We played trumps. Mom and I won.

Day 6

I helped prepare the turkey. Okay, not really. I had every intention of helping with the turkey this time, but once again, I saw my dad reach in there for the packages of bloody turkey bits, and then talk about how we want to use the okole for the gravy, and that was it, I couldn't help anymore. At least I stayed in the room.

We cooked. We cleaned. We prepared for the onslaught by hiking and then eating a lot of cheese. My cousin Drew came home after three years of being stuck on the mainland. We hugged. My grandmother loved her shrug. My cousin Jeremy drank three martinis without seeming much the worse for wear. Guy was impressed. We cleaned some more. My cousins all looked beautiful. We sang the Doxology in Hawaiian, and recorded it on my sister's voicemail to make her cry and prove to her that she should never be away from home ever again.

We ate a lot.

We played Trivial Pursuit. The Gorillas won.

We passed out.

Day 7

My parents had to work AGAIN.

Guy and I went on the Volcano Artists' Tour. I kept a straight face. Or tried to anyway.

We met with the wedding photographer. Guy decided he's in the witness protection program, because how on earth would an Italian with a German last name go from the marines to model photography in Volcano?

We played trumps. Guy and I lost.

Day 8

Mom and Dad went to a funeral. Guy and I packed. I took one last bath. We read outside. My book was terrible, but damnit I was going to finish it. I got sunburned. The cats had fleas.

We did yard work. We cleaned up. We went to dinner. We were all very tired.

We went to the aiport. We played trumps one last time. Dad and I won.

Guy and I managed not to fall asleep until we were on the flight to Newark. Then we slept long and painfully. I am doing the full body turn today.

Day 9

We stumbled our way through the airport and unpacking and shopping and cleaning out the kitty litter. I snuggled with the kitty and finished my second book. The kitty missed us.

In an effort to get ourselves back into New Jersey life, we followed our Sunday evening routine of Guy making steaks while I sat and knit, and then eating the steaks on wobbly TV trays while we watched our Netflix (Kiss Kiss Bang Bang. Utterly forgettable. Robert Downey Jr. was asleep, but Val Kilmer was funny. The world is askew). And we practiced swearing again.

Guy: That fucking guy is like Harvey Keitel's Mr. Wolf in Res Dogs.
Cordelia: Harvey Keitel wasn't Mr. Wolf in Res Dogs. He was Mr. A-Color.
Guy: Five dollars.
Cordelia: Done. He was Mr. A-Color. You're thinking of fucking Pulp Fiction.
Guy: 100 dollars. It's fucking Res Dogs.
Cordelia: Fine.

Ten second pause.

Guy: FUCK! I just lost a hundred fucking dollars! Fuck! It was fucking Pulp Fiction!

Yeah, the swearing doesn't ring true to me either.

After the movie, we figured it was time for bed. We were certainly sleepy enough. Guy brought the dishes into the kitchen.

Cordelia: What time is it?
Guy: Um. What time do you want it to be?
Cordelia: Uhhh...9:30? 10? What time is it?
Guy: It's only 7:40.
Cordelia: Oh. We can't go to sleep at 7:40.

So we watched an episode of Angel and I managed to keep my eyes open during the part where Darla kills herself (because you can't miss that!) and then we went to bed. At 8:30.


Guy said...

A point of clarification: I discovered that I liked the last Pynchon. I've liked (hell, loved) Pynchon for years.

Other good stuff: Love Song for Bobby Long, sweet bread French toast, kulolo, whatever Mehana beer it was that we had, Thai Thai, the mockingbird video, and--relaxing.

Cordelia said...

And have you read Gravity's Rainbow? No.