I Am My Father's Hat

Over the last few weeks, I've been putting together my course for the University of Hawaii. I'm thrilled to have two sections of Eng 200 - an academic research class - for the spring semester. So, in the last month, I've been lightly working on my syllabus and my course outline. Although I taught Academic Writing I (UH's version of the prerequisite to Eng 200) when I was part of the TC3 faculty, I was feeling fully prepared to tackle the Academic Research class given that it is an extension of the academic writing coursework. 


This afternoon, I was scheduled to observe an Eng 200 course as well as meet with my mentor, drop off some paperwork and pick up my course textbook. And thus I was reminded that teaching at LCC will be ever-so-far from teaching in New York.


I'm going to set up a scene for you. So take a deep breath and begin painting my illustration now:


I set my travel coffee mug on top of my car as I adjust my khaki pencil skirt and my black blouse. I pull my oversized purse from the backseat and check -one more time- to ensure my paperwork, the copy of the text book and my identification documents are all safely filed inside (along with some mints, my chapstick and a couple of pens-black ink). I silence my cell phone, toss my keys into my wallet, manually secure the lock and hip-check the car door as I grab my  coffee -- three sugars, two creams.


I slump into my teacher strut in my four-inch black pumps. I walk with purpose, no smiling, someone once warned me. New teachers shouldn't smile when they walk. Half way through the parking lot, I slow down my stomp to pull my skirt back into place, which I do in a less than graceful manor (my heel slips out of my pump; my coffee spills just a little; my hand bag slips off my shoulder). But then I'm back.  I check my watch and realize I'm perfectly on time. It's my best impression of the New York working girl I once dreamed of being. In my mind, I'm sure it looked something like this:

I step onto campus and head straight for the language arts building, bursting with confidence on my first day. When I readjust my lenses and transition from my vein, little world, I glance around at the faculty and staff weaving through the students around the concrete campus quad. I open the door to the language arts division. The array of fashion makes my nerves sweat.

• Hawaiian Tshirts
• Jean
• "Slippers" (Hawaiian for flip flops)

The causal attire of the division reminded me that this ain't New York, Sweety. My professional outfit that, five minutes prior, ignited confidence and swagger suddenly isolated me on my own island. I looked a little broken and lost in those black pumps. Like I was trying on my mother's shoes, and they were still too big. Damn yesterday's conclusion that I have not grown "up" yet.

The day proceeded with more causalness and informality that clashed loudly, like cymbals in a small room. I was introduced to students with only my first name. I had conversations with faculty who sat slipper-less in their classrooms. More floral shirts. Not one more pencil skirt and certainly not another pair of pumps anywhere. 

I'm not sure what to do with today's moment of misfit clarity. I just thought I'd share how loudly fashionably discordant I was among my faculty peers. Perhaps my individuality is something that is of a signature odd, like my father's hat. Maybe I will be known for my ridiculous outfits. I suppose that would be the optimum outcome of all of this. I certainly don't want my dream of being a New York working girl--played out in what little fashion sense I cling to--to detrimentally affect my ability to connect with my students and peers. 

It's been a long day, and it's late over here on the Island of Misfit Toys... Time to retire the pumps to the closet and call it a day of experiences worth pondering. 

Cheers to my father's hat!

Me ke aloha

M.

Unrealistic Expectations?

 I feel comfortable making the sweeping claim that we are all shaped by our experiences. I mean, it's not like that aforementioned statement is anything profound or new. Rather, it's the essence of all life. Who I am today is a direct result of the billions and trillions of moments that have occurred since the moment I was born. That said, there are some moments in my life that have set up some pretty unrealistic expectations. Disney movies, for one, as I have surely mentioned in a previous post, but as I flipped through the television channels during lunch today, I came upon an afternoon showing of the holiday favorite Home Alone. -- You know, Kevin McAllister is forgotten in the attic of his Chicago home because his family rushes out of the house to make their flight to Paris for Christmas. 
Naturally, it's one of my favorite holiday movies, but alas, I realized that from the first moment (a shaping moment, obviously) I watched that movie, probably in 1990 when it debuted, I have fully expected that my adult life would find me residing in a house equivalent to the McAllister residence. Note:

Which, naturally, provoked a philosophical abyss whereby I contemplated my current status as a human being. This, of course, is something I've pondered at least once before. I think it actually took place on my younger brother's birthday card one year. Anyway, a spontaneous thought formulated in my mind and thus unearthed the first trenches of the thinking abyss: "I still want to live in that house when I grow up."
Ah --  "...when I grow up..."
At what point am I "up"? I'm married. I've moved out of my parents' house. Hell, I've moved 6,000 miles from my hometown. I have a dog-child. I start my second big-girl job, per say, in January 

**(Big Girl Job n.  No long make minimum wage  [though I'm sure what I will make is damn close, as far as Hawaii's standard of living is concerned]). 

So am I up? Do I forgo the dream of a massive Home Alone home somewhere in the suburbs of a city great? Or am I not yet up? Could I still drive for real estate greatness. When should the average American settle in a home? 
Certainly, when my grandmother first married my grandfather, they were even younger than I am! They had my mother, moved into a home in upstate New York, and to this day, my grandmother lives in that house. Almost 60 years! Obviously I am comparing apples to birdseed here in terms of lifestyle, decade, and so much more, but I can't help but wonder when I will be 'up'. Will I know when I'm up? Who will tell me? Who decides when someone is up? When should I aggressively pursue a McAllister home or give up on it all together? hmm..
Of course, my abyss continued as Mrs. McAllister franticly worked to fly from Paris back to Chicago to save her 10 year old son, who is battling creepy bad guys and single-handedly saving the ritzy neighborhood. I picked up my most current Thanksgiving/Christmas issue of Pottery Barn magazine, took another bite of my bologna sandwich, and thus concluded that I will someday live in a McAllister house, but not until I'm grown up, whenever that will be (I certainly do hope I realize it when it happens). And when I do eventually get there, I will decorate it with the most cozy, warm PB fashions (hey, if I'm fantasizing here, I might as well go big). Note: 

       

So, I suppose, until I am all grown up, which I'm sure won't be for quite some time (like, what, 10 maybe 15 years?), I can save and plan for this dream home. I will quietly accumulate PB Essentials (yes, an actual PB product line), until such 'up'-ing has occurred.  On my budget, however, I might have to push the "up"-ing back to about 20 years. With PB prices, I have to buy one plate or pillow at a time....

Warm wishes to you from our little flat on Oahu (surely, it's the size of a McAllister closet...)<3 

Me ke aloha,

M.

Who Does He Thinks We're Thanksing?

Happy Tuesday, and Happy 27 Day until Christmas!
Every day should be a day to celebrate, but today I have a small reason of my own. My good friend, Rayna, gave birth to her little girl Adalyn Elizabeth. Mommy and baby look so healthy and are doing great! 
I woke up around 1 a.m. (Hawaii time) to a picture of Rayna in her hospital bed. She looked absolutely fabulous and, naturally for Miss Rai, she didn't even look pregnant! Who can pull that off 6 hours before giving birth?? 
I have my Coley and my Tristan, my two handsome boys from Cortland who Nick and I will spoil for the rest of their lives! And now I have a little girl to spoil in Georgia, too! I love my boys beyond words, but let's be honest, little baby girl clothes are so much fun to buy.
So congratulations Rayna and Matthew! Nick and I send our love! <3
***
Might you need a Tuesday morning laugh?

Check out the Colbert Report clip from last night:

Obama's Omission, Mitt Romney's Ad & Lululemon's Tagline

"Who does he thinks we're thanksing?" 
And with that, I'm off for breakfast and a run.


Me ke aloha,
M.

Making Liars Of Us All...

'Knee deep in the water somewhere/ Got the blue sky breeze blowin' wind through my hair / Only worry in the world is the tide gonna reach my chair'

-Zac Brown Band

A month ago, today, I blogged about Miss Rosalie's distain for all things sandy and salty!
Well...

 











Since then, Nick and I have been taking Miss Bella to the beach often. She is getting more and more used to the sane between her toes. 

 ... But we still don't think that she's completely sold on the waves, yet...
You think she would be disgusted by the salty nature of the water, but alas, she tries to drink it whenever she bustles her courage enough to let the water tickle her paws.


Here's yesterday's walk to the west side lagoon. A walk to the beach means a bath for Miss Bells when we return home and, of course, an extra long nap.

Yes!

Who doesn't love waking up to emails from The Taste of Home cooking website? Maybe in my time as a piece of kelp on this island (I do have until January) I can perfect the basics of fine cooking and baking.


So for now, check it out. Breakfasts under 200 calories ? :)
Yes!








Naturally, I was inspired to check out Martha and Rachael as well.
Get inspired too! Everybody loves breakfast :)


And with that... I'm going to grab some yogurt and tea. 
Happy Cyber Monday!


Me ke aloha,
M.

Shout Out to my fellow bloggers

Here are a few other great blogs to follow :)
Both are phenomenal writers! 
Happy Reading!


Miss Courtney with Living at Home // Living the Dream
http://livingathomelivingthedream.tumblr.com/
***
Miss Ashley with The Inbetween Times
http://the-inbetween-times.blogspot.com/
***
Goldfish Kiss is another great blog. I don't know the author of this one, but I do know she's from Oahu (Thanks Kris!).
http://goldfishkiss.com/

What a Day!

Follow the link below to see our wedding art imagery by Robert Kaussner Photography.
Robert Kaussner and Lauren Youngs created timeless art with our wedding images.


To view the photos, you have to 'sign the guest book' by providing the Pictage website with your email address.


Thanks for viewing!

Thanks for viewing!

The Wedding of Nick and Mia Reisweber - 9 Oct 2011

Turkey Claus & the Thanksgiving Rite of Passage

27 November 2011
Sunday


Ah, the Sunday evening that marks the end of Thanksgiving weekend and beginning of the holidays. We are 6,000 miles from home, but Nick and I are doing our best to soak up the holiday spirit, despite the lack of scarves and boots and the impossible prospect of a white Christmas.


Nick and I hosted a six-person Thanksgiving dinner. It was a hodgepodge of people who didn't really know each other, but food and the commonality that we were all away from our families united us around the Tom Turks. 


When Nick and I tucked ourselves into bed on the eve of Thanksgiving, we hoped that Turkey Claus would bless us with a smooth cooking experience the following day. For the most part, he did, but not without allowing us the experience of the Thanksgiving Rite of Passage.


The mothers warned us. Grandma Karpinski reminded us:
"Don't forget to take the bag with the innards out of the turkey!"


Nick and I searched. We looked in the turkey. We felt around in the turkey. We found the neck and a little skinned sac and even took a picture and sent it to my mother! But after turkey and stuffing and gravy and potatoes and jello mold and corn and green bean casserole bloated our bellies in excruciating discomfort, Nick found the goddamn bag in the neck of the turkey. 


We were warned! We made the efforts to check!! So, Nick and I concluded with defeat that cooking the bag inside the turkey must be a rite of passage for all young thanksgiving hosts. 


The remainder of our Thanksgiving weekend was thoroughly enjoyable. I don't know how else to articulate how much I love having my husband home with me! :)


On Thanksgiving evening, Nick and I decked the halls. Our tree is twinkling. There are lights out front. Garland frames our lanai door. Just a little Christmas spirit, and our house  looks even more like a home.


All in all, it was a beautiful kick off to the holidays :)


Let the count downs commence!
Waggamuffin:  21 days until the muffin arrives and all hell breaks loose on Oahu
Grams Karpinski and Madge Starmer: 28 days! :)
Dekesterr: 45 days! 


Me ke aloha :)
M.