Thursday, June 30 - Part 2

There is no pizza today at the MIR.

“Maybe later,” I was told. I returned to the room to wait to see what the gals wanted to do. Once they return from their supply run, they might just want to pause and sit in the restaurant, or maybe I'll have to run for some kind of take-out.

The gals returned, with brother and friend in tow. I explained the pizza dilemma, and it was agreed that the BBQ would be good. The gals had just come from there and could have grabbed some, but they thought I was fetching pizza. The boys and I piled into the car and took off for the orange booth.

The BBQ guy apologized as he'd run out, and had just started cooking another round, and it wouldn't be done for some time. Junior suggested that the Tide Table has pizza, so we went there and ordered one. I let the guys pick, and they chose the Hawaiian pizza. I was told it would take about twenty or thirty minutes, so I bellied up to the bar and had a Spring Tide to pass some time. The boys decided not to join me, instead sitting in the lounge chairs in the lobby area, and later they went outside to lean against the railing and chat.

On the drive back I told them how this brought back memories, because when I was younger I used to deliver pizzas for a living. I had to explain that in the U.S., the pizza comes to you. Also I had to explain that I had more than the one job. I'm not sure if it was because people don't change jobs here, or maybe because they don't start so young (I was 19 and 20 when I delivered pizzas).

We returned and found the gals had dug into their handicrafts. They paused long enough to eat a piece of pizza or two, and resumed. Before the pizza was gone, the other Junior arrived and was given the last piece.

While the gals were grabbing supplies, they'd also purchased a pair of scissors at the Dollar Store, but it turns out they weren't very sharp. I offered to run to the Do It Best Hardware store to see what they might have in the scissors department. They've been a little short on supplies as their ship still hasn't come in. The late-comer Junior said he'd go with. We found they had one kind of scissors available, and for $1.29 I figured it was worth a try. Junior thanked me for the pizza and decided to return home instead of to the handicraft room. The extra thirty-some cents, after tax, seems to have made a difference, as they were surprisingly sharp.

After several more hours of handicrafts, including a loss of television, and re-watching Tangled, and an interruption as the gals ran for plastic baggies into which the handicraft earrings could be put, the handicraft crew was worn out. The palm parts and tools and debris were quickly cleaned up. Our birthmother asked if we had a better bag than she had put everything in, as her plastic trash bag was tearing in spots. We first offered her other plastic bags, not quite understanding what she wanted, thinking she was gesturing at the bag for the type of bag. After a sad look on her face, which she gets when she knows we're not getting it, it clicked that she was looking for a sturdier bag. I offered her the canvas bag we'd got at our first trip to the grocery store (and subsequently forgotten for half or more of our visits...just like at home). She was elated, and after putting her bag and big coral chunk into it, hugged it with a giant smile.

We retired to dinner at the hotel restaurant. During part of dinner, bubu joined us. We chatted a bit more about the things going on. I shared that we'd heard from the other mother, who was home and already adjusted. We lamented that we still hadn't heard anything about our visa.

The boys talked a little about going to school in Hawaii, which we agreed was very expensive. I noted that Claire wouldn't let me move to Hawaii. I joked that it was more that her mom wouldn't let me take Claire to Hawaii. Bubu asked if Claire's mother lived with us, and I explained that she had her own home, and wanted to stay there and not live with us. I tried to explain how that was normal there, and that most of the time children leave their parent's home shortly after finishing school, and usually they don't live together again, except for occasional false-starts during young adulthood (as I had), or spots of desperation or other need.

We compared notes on households in general. Bubu asked if we were disappointed by her home, since it was so small and simple compared to ours. I said that there was nothing disappointing, just different. I shared that our house was a little large for our neighborhood, and our needs, but that we kind of had to do it. In the area where we live, and probably a lot of areas in the U.S., adults and children aren't allowed to sleep in the same rooms, and at certain ages, children of different genders, or even far enough in age, aren't allowed to sleep in the same rooms. She laughed that her house wouldn't work where we lived, and I said she'd just need to divide it into about eight bedrooms for the number of people she has.

We chatted a little more about school. I shared how I didn't start college right away, and that after a while working I could afford to go. Then after going for a while, I enlisted in the Air Force to pay for more and better school. After serving and a little school, I started working in my field, before I finished college, and have been working ever since. I didn't finish my degree, but I've been doing my job really well for about twenty-five years, so while it might bother some people when they look to hire me, it doesn't bother anyone I actually work with. Many assume I have finished, and some don't care. But, we both told the boys, college is invaluable, and they should work on high school with a mind toward getting into a college, and then work on college with a mind toward getting a good job.

Dinner wound down, and everyone went their way. It had been a long, long day, so we turned in directly.