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Saturday, May 11, 2013

One Girl's Heart...

 
She knows my heart because she once lived right under it.
 
 


*Planned Parenthood
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*L.A. Gay & Lesbian Center
*Reading is Fundamental

Sunday, May 05, 2013

A New-Fangled Fairy Tale a la Prince Grommet



The Grommet asked me to accompany him to the store to buy some new bedding.  He'd just been cleaning his room (halle-freakin'-lujah!), and he wanted to "seal the deal" with some new sheets and pillows.  "How nice."  I thought.  My son wants me to go shopping with him.  Tired as I was, I wasn't about to say no.  I mean, really...how often does THAT happen?  Hi ho, hi ho...

We arrive at our destination, and as we are on a mission of utmost importance, I direct him straight to linens.  As he looks through the many choices, I notice that he goes STRAIGHT to the Nate Berkus designs.  I chuckle inside.  I guess when you work at Versace, you can pretty much smell quality right away.   So now come the questions.  He knows what he wants in the way of color and design, but I can see as he's reading packages, he's a bit confused about content.

Bryson:  What is the difference between Eqyptian Cotton and regular cotton?  And what's all this "thread count" business?

Pua:  (pulling a corner of the sheet out of each package)  Feel these.  Which would you rather have encircling your body?

Bryson:  Definitely the Egyptian Cotton...600 thread count, at least.

Pua:  Exactly

Bryson:  Okay, how about pillows?  What's the difference between foam and down?

Pua:  (holding each kind of pillow)  Lay your head here.  Which would you rather have cradling your head?

Bryson:  (nodding his head)  Oh yeah, the down one for sure.

(A moment of quiet as he contemplates)

Bryson:  Damn.  I'm quite a princess.

Uh...yup.

Wednesday, May 01, 2013

Don't worry. I'll be sitting over here in the corner minding my own business and pretending not to know you.



Sometimes it's pretty obvious how they feel.  But sometimes, it comes at you with all the subtlety of a knife in the heart.  On those days, you just say; "Fuck it.  Some people think I'm awesome, so screw you."  Then, you make yourself a drink, toast your awesomeness, and promise yourself that you won't let it bother you.  Note:  Part one and part two are pretty easy.  That last part is a bitch.

Sunday, April 07, 2013

The Lost Pearl



My husband is not a man who places great value in material things.  He doesn't have the latest thingamajig or whatchamacallit.  He doesn't covet gadgets or doohickeys.  He honestly doesn't bat an eye at the latest car, electronic device, golf clubs, boats, or whatever it is that makes other people's worlds spin.  Give him a roof over his head, a way to support his family, a great Hefeweizen, and some time well-spent with good friends or loved ones, having a laugh, and Charlie's a content man.

I preface this story with a bit about Charlie so that you will understand what a HUGE deal it is for him to spend money on jewelry.  Luckily, I've never been one to go ga-ga over jewelry myself.  I can count on one hand the number of pieces of finery I have that have any value, be it monetary or sentimental.  My engagement ring, though not very expensive...we were kids and it was what we could afford...has a great deal of meaning to me because of the amazing effort and the sheer romance of the way he gave it to me.  My 25th anniversary wedding band, which I fell in love with while we were on a trip to Mexico with my sister and brother-in-law, brings priceless memories to mind everytime I look down at my hand.  My Hawaiian heirloom necklace, which Charlie bought for me on our first anniversary, while on our first trip to Hawai'i together.  Whatever piece it may be, there is always a story that comes with it that has much more sentimental value than the dollar sign attached to it.  This particular piece, a pearl pendant, is no exception.


When I found my birth family, we quickly went about the business of making plans to go to Hawai'i and meet everyone.  I was especially anxious to meet my mother; Pearl.  As many of you know, it was a perfect trip, full of love and laughter.  My family welcomed us with so much warmth and aloha that to this day, it still feels as if we were always a part of each other's lives.  I spent a good deal of time sitting with my mother, listening to family stories, learning about my history, and making up for 40 plus years of lost time. 

On the next trip back to the islands, we were walking around Haleiwa Town with my sister Loke and her husband Phil, enjoying the day, and popping in and out of the little shops in the north shore village.  Charlie, who is absolutely fascinated by pearls, called me into a little store that specialized in the many varieties of the lustrous gem of the sea.  He found two pendants in particular that he was especially drawn to; a black Tahitian pearl, and a freshwater disc (coin) pearl.  I thought they were lovely, but the cost was far too dear, and I kept walking away from them.  In fact, I kept walking out of the store, and Charlie kept calling me back.

Charlie:  "Listen, you know me.  Jewelry's not something I think of as a gift.  Which is why you don't have all that much.  But this has a little more significance, so hear me out."

Pua:  (smiling because I know a sales pitch is coming) "Go ahead.  I'm listening."

Charlie:  "We're here, in Hawai'i, because you've just found your family.  That's a big deal, isn't it?"

Pua:  (nodding)  "Yes.  A very big deal."

Charlie:  "Your mom's name is Pearl.  We're here in Hawai'i.  Two things that will always bring happy memories.  Right?"

Pua:  "You're good, Huffine, but that's a bit spendy, don't you think?."

Charlie:  "Eh, spendy-schmendy.  How often do we buy for US?  Let me get these for you.  I know you don't need trinkets to remember...but this?....well, this is some important stuff.  And I want to do this."

Twenty minutes later, escorted by my very proud husband, I walked out of that store wearing a simple, but lovely disc pearl pendant.  That was 7 years ago, and that pearl is still one of my favorite pieces of jewelry.  Cut to last week...

Wednesday was our anniversary, and even though we didn't have any big, romantic plans, I decided to wear my disc pearl out.  I giggled to myself because we went to an inexpensive little diner and had burgers, but I got "spiffied up" and wore my best necklace.  It made Charlie smile to see it on me.  He always notices when I wear it. 

On Thursday, I had a million "chores" to take care of, so I got an early start on the day.  First thing on my list, take all the cans and bottles to the recycle station.  Check.  Get some grocery shopping done.  Check.  Go to the post office.  Check.  The day went on like that until my very long "to do" list was complete.  Sometime that evening, as I was getting ready to jump in the shower, I realized that I didn't have a necklace on.  I ALWAYS have a necklace on, whether it's my everyday necklace or something special...I ALWAYS have a necklace on.  Then, the panic began to set in.  I stood there in the bathroom, with the shower running, taking an inventory of my day.  Oh no.  Ohhhhh no, please no.  I ran my hand over the bare spot on my chest where that pearl had hung only the night before. 

Usually, when I've worn my pearl pendant for a special night, I come right home and return it to its box, and put my "everyday" necklace back on.  But I remembered that when I got home, I didn't do that.  I kept my pearl on.  I went into the bedroom and tore our bed apart thinking that it might have come off in my sleep.  The adrenaline was pumping, that new, scared-to-death feeling was washing over me and I was doing all I could to stay calm and not lose it.  I tore the house apart, I pulled the cushions off the couches.  Nothing.  I went out to my car and looked everywhere.  Then I sat in the car and realized that I'd been to SO many places that day.  And even worse, I realized that I'd done the most asinine thing; I'd put that pearl pendant on a chain which had an "iffy" clasp.  I knew.  In fact, everyone knew that the clasp on that chain wasn't reliable.  The pendant that I usually wore would often come loose and everyone would go scrambling to help me find it.  Charlie and Wes would both tell me to get a new chain and I hemmed and hawed because my everyday pendant was inexpensive and if it got lost, I wouldn't be heartbroken.  But now, as I sat there in my car, I began to beat myself up about how stupid I'd been.  Even worse, I knew it was gone forever.  When I thought about all the places I'd been that day, I would never see that beautiful pearl again.  How would I tell Charlie?  I'm a world class idiot.  I cried.  I sat in my car and cried.

That night, I came to the conclusion that I wouldn't tell Charlie.  I wouldn't tell anyone.  I'd keep my stupidity to myself.  I'd also keep my pain to myself.  Why make him suffer because I'd been so careless with something so valueable.  It wouldn't be the first time.  I once left a sapphire ring he'd bought for me when Averie was born, in a rental car in San Francisco.  So distraught was I when I realized it AFTER we'd already turned the car in and boarded our flight home, that I cried so much on the plane, the flight attendant thought I was an abused wife.  She kept asking me if I was okay and giving Charlie dirty looks.  So, this....this I was going to keep to myself.  Yeah, I'd feel guilty, but I was already paying.  No one could punish me as much as I was punishing myself.

After that sleepless night, I woke up on Friday and decided that I'd backtrack.  The effort would probably be futile, but, what did I have to lose?  So once everyone was out of the house, I took out my list from the day before and determined that I would go down the line.  First stop; the recycling center.  If you've ever been to a recycling center, you know that the chances of it still being there if that's where it dropped were akin to that of a snowball's survival rate in the Mojave desert.  It's not the best environment.  There hasn't been a time I haven't been approached by panhandlers there, and usually, there are loiterers who are scanning the ground closely for discarded cigarettes that might still have a few puffs left.  I imagined my pearl being picked up and traded for a pack of cigarettes or a pint of Jack from the corner liquor store.  Either that, or in that high-traffic zone, that delicate pearl had been run over so many times, that it was now a little circlet of white dust. 

I pulled up to the recycle center, parked the car, got out, and with my head down, started looking.  The guy that runs the recycle center was just getting ready to open, and I was the only one there.  He watched me for a few minutes as I walked around the parking lot.  I allowed myself ONE thought, and one thought only, and I sent that thought up directly to another pearl that I had lost many, many years ago;  "Mom, if you're watching, I would really appreciate it if you would help me find my pearl.  Actually, it's Charlie's pearl, but you know, if it's here, please help me find it." 

Yeah, yeah.  I know.  I'm not much on that either.  I scoffed at myself while I was thinking it.  Ridiculous.  But, I was in an overwhelmingly anxious state of mind where I figured...what the hell?  The recycle center guy finally approached me.

Recycle Guy:  "You lose something, Honey?"

Pua:  "Yeah.  Do you remember me from yesterday?  I think I lost a pearl necklace while I was here."

Recycle Guy:  "I remember.  But, oh man, a pearl?  No way it would still be here.  Too much traffic through here, you know?

Pua:  "I know...but...I have to try."

He looked at me with a sad face, and then he put his head down to help me start looking.  Within seconds, I mean SECONDS, I looked down again and as if it had a light on it, there it was!  The pearl was in a little cement crevice in the middle of a wide expanse of black asphalt.  A white pearl, against white concrete.  What are the chances?  So many things were against it being found.  Not only found, but found intact.  It would have stood out more against the black asphalt, but I saw it clear as day, white against white.  It has a thicker nacre, so honestly, it should have been obliterated by motor traffic, but it only had a little tiny scratch in the lustre, barely noticeable.   When I picked it up, the recycle guy was stunned.  I was stunned!  I started to cry.  He started to jump up and down shouting; "No way!  Nooooo way!"  That's exactly how I felt.  With tears running down my face, I thanked him for his help.  He told me how lucky I was.  I looked up, kissed the pearl, and said; "Nah.  My mom was watching out for me.  She was always watching out for me."

I still haven't told anyone about this.  In fact, I'm still determined not to say anything to Charlie.  It's a great story though, and it happened just like this.  I brought the pearl home and put it in its box.  It's there right now.  I won't be wearing it until I get a proper new chain with a very reliable clasp.  The one pearl I "refound" left me way too soon.  I think of her often, and I miss her.  This little disc pearl that my husband bought for me to remind me of that other dearly precious Pearl?...I plan on keeping it near me for a good, long time.

Thursday, April 04, 2013

c m huffine & e e cummings are spot on



On Tuesday, Caris and I watched a movie.  I can't remember if I was watching it first and she joined me, or if it was the other way around.  Either way, we ended up sitting and watching "Hope Springs" with Tommy Lee Jones and Meryl Streep.  It's about a couple, married 31 years, who have, in essence, lost their way in their marriage.  They basically co-habitate.  Nothing more.  I suppose I sat and watched it because of the subject.  I don't usually watch movies in the middle of a weekday.  But, this is, after all, the week of our wedding anniversary.  So why not?

It wasn't too long into the movie where it became quite evident that they were making Tommy Lee's character out to be the "bad husband" and Meryl's character the "forgotten wife".  Caris instantly began to take offense, understandably.  The story was going on in a way that didn't put Tommy Lee in the best light and Meryl was definitely the long-suffering wife.  Caris made a comment about how she would never put up with that kind of treatment, and she would have left him.  I told her that we should wait awhile and see where it goes.  There is more to a marriage story than just one side.  Especially a long marriage.  I told her that her age group is obviously not the target demographic for this movie...that this was definitely targeted at people at the stage of life where Charlie and I are now.  I said to give the story a chance to pan out. 

Caris:  "Well, you and Daddy don't treat each other like that."

Pua:  "Yes, Honey.  I know.  But that doesn't mean that there haven't been some really hard times.  And if you love someone, you try to remember on a daily basis what it was about them that you fell in love with, or what you fell in LIKE with.  You don't just bail when it gets hard."

Caris:  "He's making me mad."

Pua:  "Yeah.  He's making me mad too.  But I bet there's a backstory.  And I bet she's not as innocent as it would appear.  It takes two.  It always takes two."

Sure enough, as the story unfolded, it became clear that there were hurts and scars under the surface that needed to emerge, and needed some working through.  Caris mentioned that there were parts that she didn't understand.  I told her that it was okay, because, again, I did, and really, I'm the target.  I appreciate those subtle nuances, the little looks that would mean nothing to someone who hadn't already spent three decades of their life with one person.  People get tired, complacent, forgetful.  Sometimes, it's just "easier" to stay in the rut.  It takes real courage to stay and fight for what you had, what you may have lost, and what you want back.

At one point, the marriage counselor asked Tommy Lee; "Have YOU done EVERYTHING you could possibly do?"  I said to Caris that's really the bottom line, right there.  It's hard to take a personal inventory.  It's hard to ask that question of yourself.  But it is the most important question when you're in an "ebb" in your relationship.  If you can honestly answer that you have done all that you can without any return, then perhaps, it is time to walk away.  I am of the opinion that you don't just stop loving someone.  It's not like a tap that you just turn off and twist tight.

As the movie finished, I knew that I wanted to talk to my best friend about it.  I knew that it would be a topic of conversation tonight.  Not just the movie, but Caris' reaction to it.  I was pretty sure she walked away unsatisfied and maybe a little disappointed, even if there was a happy ending.  I thought that maybe she couldn't understand, again, because she's not....us.

Yesterday, as we celebrated our anniversary, I was stunned to see a beautiful tribute from Caris on my Facebook newsfeed:

My parents may never win the lottery, be able to afford a house in Hawaii, have the car of their dreams, remodel their home, attend movie premiers or travel around the world. But they have one thing that everyone wants, everyone tries for, but so few will ever have. That one in a billion marriage that doesn't just last, but is full of genuine happiness, contentment, trust, honesty, respect, sillin...ess, fun and above all those things, love. Real best-friend-sweetheart-embarrass-your-kids kind of love. I know some people will go their entire lives without ever seeing, knowing or understanding the very best of what love can actually mean and be. And I will forever feel like one of three of the luckiest kids in the world, because I got grow up surrounded by it. So happy 31st anniversary to my mommy and daddy, whose example of love keeps my faith in it alive.
 
I sat and stared at it, teary-eyed for the longest time.  There it was, in black and white, bold as can be for the world to see.  Proof that she got the jist of it.  Caris isn't one that's prone to sentimentality.  Especially when it comes to relationships.  So to see these words of affirmation was a gift of value beyond measure.  I'm still bowled over by it.  Still touched to my soul. 
 
I will always believe that it takes real courage to stay and work through the hard stuff.  But, I also realize how lucky Charlie and I have been to have found our soulmate.  So, even the "hard stuff" became a moot point.  Yes, we work through them when they come.  However, I realize that it's been way easier for us than it has been for most people because we really, really LIKE each other.  I don't want to think about life without that silly goofball who says the dorkiest things, laughs at his own dumb jokes, hugs me from afar, winks at me from across the room, thinks that every ounce of me is gorgeous enough that other women don't turn his head, and every laugh line is something we earned together.  That "one in a billion" that Caris' nailed so beautifully in her note?  Yeah.  That and so much more.

Saturday, March 30, 2013

Chamberlain: Humanitarian, Statesman, Nazi-Whisperer






This morning, Charlie and I were having breakfast with a tired, and a bit hungover Bryson, who was telling us about an awkward encounter he had last night...

Bryson:  "...And so, even though I tried to be nice, she got very angry at me because she was drunk.  I couldn't say anything to talk her down.  She was really aggressive.  I kinda felt like Wilt Chamberlain trying to reason with Adolph Hilter."
(Charlie and I smile and look at each other.)

Pua:  "Um...yeah, because Wilt Chamberlain has met Hilter....and we know how well that turned out."
Bryson:  (a bit confused by our reaction)  "Well yeah, Chamberlain was a really great spokesman.  He could reason with people.  I wish I had his ability when it came to talking to this woman."

Charlie:  "Because you wanted to add her to your "List of 20,000?"

(Bryson is now looking at us with obvious concern, frustrated at our flippant reaction to his story.)

Bryson:  "Dude, what are you talking about?"

Charlie:  "Bryson, I think you mean NEVILLE Chamberlain.  Wilt Chamberlain was a basketball player who was, among other things, known as a notorious womanizer."

Bryson:  (laughing his ass off)  "Well, shit.  Yeah, yeah...Neville.  That's what I meant.  Whoa man, I really need some sleep."

Friday, March 22, 2013

Please Remember: I Miss Her Too



Ellie and Kiva had a funny relationship.  Ellie was Alpha Female.  That's it.  Kiva bounced around her, vying for her attention, while Ellie simply tolerated Kiva's presence.  I always wished that Ellie would take on more of the Mama Nurterer role with Kiva, since Kiva came into our lives when she was a mere palmful in Wes' hand and Ellie was four.  But no.  Ellie had her own idea of the way things would be.  She was the Alpha Female.  That's it.  Kiva always tried, rolling over in front of Ellie, bearing her tummy to her, begging for some morsel of kindness.  Ellie would just give her a compulsory sniff, turn her nose up, and walk away.  Kiva took it all with a grain of salt and quickly switched her attention to the closest shiny thing.  I always laughed and told her she was just like her Daddy.  I never could get Wes to stay focussed at the tiki shop either.  Things were different, however, whenever we'd go outside.  A ride in the car or a walk in the park quickly turned Ellie into the most joyful, friendly, "Hey c'mon Kiva!  Let's play!" girl in the world.  She couldn't wrassle, tackle, chase, taunt, or play with Kiva enough.  The entire park became their playground.  Watching them chase each other was one of the great happy memories I will always cherish.  As soon as we came home though, roles would return to "Her Royal Majesty" and "Loyal Subject".  The house was Ellie's Queendom.  No more, no less. 

Since I've been home from staying with my sister, Kiva has now made her second visit to the house since Ellie's passing.  The first visit was bittersweet.  We watched as Kiva ran in the house in her usual Hurricane Kiva way, barking and crying, announcing her arrival.  She ran from room to room, barking all the way.  She ran out into the backyard, calling her friend.  She began to slow down after checking all the places she always knew Ellie to be, then she quietly walked over and looked up at me.  There was no doubt about the confusion.  "Where's my friend?"  It didn't take her long to realize that things were different, and it seemed to me that she just resolved to go about the business of helping US through our grief.  She just poured on the Kiva love that we have always cherished.  I was the one who sopped it up the most.  I didn't move much from the couch as she layed her head on my lap and let me hold her.  I thought of MYSELF as the mourner.  That was two weeks ago.

On Tuesday, when Wes arrived with Kiva, she went through her usual routine.  Running into the house, barking all the way, checking every room.  She figured it out faster, but she still looked.  I thought she moved through it pretty quickly and then generously slathered her attention on Caris and myself.  Her arrival is always joyful.  But something is a little different.

As the days have passed, I have noticed some little things.  Being a slow human, it took a full two days before I got my head out of my backside to realize...Kiva was grieving.  Yes, she was very attentive to all of us, like she always is, but I began to notice that she had her head lowered a lot.  A few times I found her looking longingly into the backyard and whining.  A squirrel walked along the fence and she didn't budge.  That just wasn't Kiva's regular MO.  At night, she came to the end of our bed and waited for an invite to jump up, which was granted.  She would always stay right at the foot of the bed because Ellie got to sleep further up by us.  So Kiva just waited, sitting down at the end of the bed between Charlie and I and stared at us.  When I told her to come, she SLOWLY moved up, with her head bowed down, and slid her long body the length of mine and spooned in, in an almost genuflective kind of way. 

At mealtimes, I had been putting her dish down and walking away.  Usually, Kiva WOOFED her food.  The past few meals, she just weirdly approached her dish and sniffed it, then she layed down, never touching it.  I told Wes that I thought she was missing her own kibble, or maybe she was missing her dad.  She ate eventually, but it took her a long, long time.  So unlike the ravenous girl we know.  Wes stopped by to visit her and she was happy.  He brought a new supply of Kiva's kibble.  When I went to feed her, she still approached the dish with trepidation, sniffed it, and layed down.  I was confused, and she looked at me with her sad eyes.  Then it hit me.  I had been putting Kiva's dish down in Ellie's place.  Kiva's place was over on the other side of the dining room.  Could it be?  I picked up Kiva's dish and moved it to her "regular" place.  She stuck her nose so far into that dish that I couldn't see it, woofing it happily, tail wagging as she ate.

That was it.  All of her weird little quirks, where she would lie down, where she would sit, toys she would and would not touch, where her dish would be placed.  In all of these things, she was paying homage to her lost friend.  Not wanting to replace, or ignore, or forget.  She was grieving too.  In my selfishness, I had forgotten that she had lost someone too.  I felt like an ass.  I got down on the floor and held her and she licked my face and wagged her tail.  I told her that I understood and that I loved her for caring SO much.  We missed Ellie together.  I could almost feel the release of tension in her body.  Yes, she needed us, ME, to see that she hurt too.  I had begged Wes to bring her here for ME, but I was lax in seeing that she needed me to comfort HER as well.  This little girl had spent her whole life playing a lesser canine role and being quite fine with it.  She never minded the way Ellie lorded over her.  She relished her time here and whatever understanding they had, they both found an easy peace with it.  Kiva just needed her pain to be recognized, and she needed someone here, someone in this second home of hers, to know that she missed her friend, her park partner, her sister.

When Charlie got home, we took her to the park and let her play fetch a few dozen times.  It seemed that once HER pain was acknowledged, she moved on.  She's still Kiva.  She's still a bundle of muscled energy.  She still loves all the lovies and she loves getting away with things at Auntie Pua's house that she doesn't get to do at home.  Yeah, we spoil her rotten.  But she still won't eat her food in Ellie's place, and she still won't come sleep between us.  There are some things that must remain sacred.  At least in Kiva's mind.

Blog Update I (3/22/13): Took Kiva to the park. We saw a guy jogging with his dog. His dog was an exact twin of Ellie. I've NEVER seen a dog that looked as much like Ellie as this dog, and I've never seen these two at the park. Neither has Kiva. She kept wagging her tail, crying, and trying to pull me over to them. When I wouldn't budge and kept telling her that it wasn't Ellie, she kept looking at me ...and tilting her head in that "I don't get it" way. I tried to get the man to stop and let them "meet", but he wouldn't. I felt bad for both of us, but I mostly felt bad for Kiva. She just didn't understand why we weren't going to get our Ellie and take her home with us. It wasn't a very fun trip to the park. She didn't even want to chase her ball. Sucks.  There were other dogs at the park, including our neighbor with his dog. Kiva wanted nothing to do with them. When it was time to leave, she just kept pulling at the leash toward the "Ellie" dog and I kept telling her that it wasn't our girl. I felt like a heel. Charlie says I'm projecting, and I know that, but honestly, if you saw her face and her very, very intense reaction to the situation. It was hard. For both of us. Haunted my sleep last night.
 
Blog Update II (3/23/13): Charlie and I picked up Ellie's ashes today. When we got home, we put the box up on the mantle next to her picture. Kiva came right over and stood up on her hind legs sniffing and whining. She paced back and forth under ...the mantle. She hadn't eaten today, so Charlie took the box, and put it in Ellie's usual place. As soon as Kiva went over and saw that "Ellie" was in her place, she FINALLY went over and ate. If there was ever a testament to an animal's grief, this has spoken volumes to me. This has been a week of soulful lessons. I hurt, but my heart is full of overwhelming love.