Libtard

In his latest special on Netflix, Dave Chappelle uses an old proverb to explain America’s current predicament, our infighting. I don’t remember what culture it comes from, probably Buddist or Vedic actually, but it says that discovering Truth is like a bunch of blind people with hands on an elephant, all with different points of view.

“Hello!!!” One says, “It small, long and skinny with a course tuft of hair at the end.”

“NO! Stupid. It’s a dry flap.”

“What?!” Someone comments, “Whatever this is, it has eyes, ya’ll, it is alive.”

Dave Chappelle laughs and says, “All I know is its got some penis like skin.”

We all laugh.

And then I chime in and say, “Oh, I don’t know, its a little more course feeling than a penis. It reminds me of an old oak tree I knew. One solid branch came out like a giant trunk and I spent so much time there that the bark was actually kinda squishy on that branch. It was rubbed smooth. The whole tree felt different than other oaks I’ve seen. I spent a lot of time with it and called it my Grandmother Tree.”

“Aaaaaaw.” Some people would say. And some would roll their eyes. It would be a rare bird that would want to kill me for it, but it’s true. I’m Libtarded.

My first rodeo says all we need to know about the kind of person I am…

We were that house that carved angels and crosses into our jack-o-lanterns on Halloween. Once, my sister used the word “dumb” to insult a kid who was teasing me after school and I sucked in air so quickly I did what I call “singing backwards.” But before I knew what bad words were, my favorite song was Garth Brookes’ Rodeo.

His eyes were cold and restless,
his wounds were almost healed,
and she’d give half of Texas,
just to change the way he feels
She knows his love’s in Tulsa,
And she knows he’s gonna go,
But it ain’t no woman, flesh and blood,
It’s that damned old rodeo!

Liberated, in the backseat, I sang that song with my headphones on and made my family laugh.  I’m sure my mind was in a good space about moving to the place that had Tulsa in it. Oklahoma from Feyetteville, North Carolina when I was five or six,  presented the chance to experience my very first rodeo. You know how kids get about some things, Disneyland and birthdays and first rodeos. So much I was going to love. We got in the stands and the National Anthem was sung and shortly after something horrific happened and I couldn’t believe people just stood around and watched, cheered even. Calf-Roping?!?!? Who the eff came up with that?!?!?!?  I lost it. Duh. I remember screaming and crying and seeing this sand colored baby wailing and being dragged around the dirt at a fast speed…. by a horse! My family insisted that she will be just fine, they get over it right away. But no one shamed me or forced me to stay after my disillusionment. Even though she disagreed, even though she did not think it was so horrific, my mom got me out of there right away.

Super caring on a 6 year old. And now? Maybe a little bit Libtarded.

You know what I heard about Ted Bundy? His type, that is his favorite victims, were pretty girls with bright smiles, long hair parted down the middle.

lol

You think I would have survived the 70’s?

You know how it would have gone down if his van had been parked next to my van and he waddled up with a sling on his arm and an undignified expression.

“Oh, miss, eh, ow, I could really use some help here.”

“Oh heeeeeey!” Big smile. “Oh my goodness, one second, let me get my kids buckled in here real quick……”

Yeah. That’s why I keep friends like Kali around. Always have.

Because when he says something alarming like, “Well could you just fuckin’ hurry please?” My big retarded heart would be like “Oh he is in pain, I better hurry!”

And Kali, another friend with straight long hair parted down the middle and a disarming smile would be like, “Wait a second, where are your friends? Abby, uh, you need to get something out of the very back for this poor fellow! Yep, crawl all the way in there, do you see it? Maybe step your feet all the way in, maybe you can see what I need you to grab….. for him.”

Once I am in there she would slam the hatchback shut and jump in to the drivers seat and lock the door.  She would speed away and be like “OH MY GOSH! WHAT DID WE JUST ESCAPE?!”

And I would probably be like, “Kali!?!?! That poor guy! We can’t just leave him there!”

My ass might even go back and check, two hours later once the kids are down for a nap, check that he isn’t there still in need.

Kali wouldn’t let me, but if I did…

“OMG! KALI! You wouldn’t believe it! I think he actually did fall! There is a little blood spot right where we were parked! But on the ground?! How hard do you think this poor fellow fell to bleed that much?! Maybe I should call the hospital and check if he’s there. Should we call the police first and find out if someone found him? We should apologize! Pay for his bill!”

Libtarded.

But, imagine if since I had Kali, we made it to the police because of my libtarded heart and her sharp thinking. What might that evidence had amounted to? 1976’s Abby and Kali’s eyes and ears could have spared maybe just one less group of people the pain of losing someone who was a lot of their everything  to this man’s dementia!  Maybe. Maybe our combined bit of evidence could have helped the detectives tip into the direction of Truth just a lil’ bit quicker than they did.

I’m glad not everyone I love and rely on thinks like me, feels like me.

Where would I be?

I watch my old peers from school on facebook with far different opinions then I. And this gun thing is heated, it is divisive.The core of it is safety. We all have a core need to feel safe, don’t we?

I posted this blog on my facebook, shared from a classy librarian I know.

Fuck you, I like Guns by The Aging Millennial Engineer

An old school friend said this, to which I am really grateful because he is both a good person AND he made me think.

prompting me to say this:

I said that and I thought I’d be really proud of that because hey, that’s me but then it only took a quick reread to realize I said something really racist, flippantly and innocently because what can you expect from a girl who grew up in Oklahoma? But it’s an idea that gets a lot of good people killed and leaves entire cultures damaged in ways they can’t control, that they just have to learn to work with.

Most gun owners have noble intentions and only ever use their guns for those reasons. Duh. And people like me, we do need protection. Duh.

I don’t think its a bad thing to spend some of our free time imagining what our idea of Utopia is. I believe that is our birthright as Americans, our freedom. Let’s take some time to relax and leave the mic open for us to all share what we think. Actually, you know what I am going to do? I am going to take all 10,000 of us camping. We are going to pretend it’s sometime in the future and magic mushrooms are legal, at least therapeutically, so I’m acting as camp counselor here and let’s just pretend I have been properly trained to be a therapist. I’ve already handed you your dose and your water and I am walking you through our woods, a nice soft path. Some of us are quiet and some of us are chatty as we are all just kinda waiting for them to take effect.

We arrive at the setting. There is a small wooden stage with a microphone. In front of it are been bags and couches and various collections of furniture, cushions and exercise mats.

“Okay, guys,” I say from the microphone. “You are welcome to do whatever you feel like, we will be here for the next 8 hours and then we will all be released back to our cabins for the night. If you want to go on a walk through the forest, just alert one of our Mental Health Technicians and they will keep an eye on you. We are leaving the stage open for anyone who feels guided to speak their mind about guns and what your Utopian ideal is. Yes, it is a very controversial thing, that is why I am throwing this crazy drug in to it. Isn’t that fun? The only rule is that we don’t shout over each other. Let’s refrain from name-calling, like all the other times we’ve tried this.  I’ll be here to help us acknowledge each other’s feelings when I think it’s necessary.”

It would be a wonderful thing if we held people in our government accountable if they fail to do their jobs, as my friend from school pointed out to me on facebook. Is that what has happened in this latest school shooting? I am libtarded about this right now… because I have been busy doing other things, but I do have time to be educated from my community about it. If we could watch and develop a government who could responsibly possess and utilize its weapons, from drones to guns, that would be quite a pretty picture. If we could trust our government to spy on us in order to keep us safe, that would be a pretty picture. What would we do then? Would we have some big general land that we had basic rights in, that was divided in to all these other lands that had crazy ideas about the way things should be? So you could come over to my Hippie Utopia, some land-locked Burning Man Land and I would answer the gate, topless, joint in hand, someone’s kid tugging at my skirt rudely asking me for milk?

“Go get your mom, silly!” I’d say. Then I would turn to you and whisper, “Oh yes, just leave your guns here please, thank you, come in honeeeeeeeeey!” And you would step in and I would hand you my joint and be like “okay this is my bike car, I always just take my skirt off when I ride it. Would you like to see our gun range while you’re here? We actually do have one a few hours away, it is absolutely hilarious but its only open on Sundays. No drugs, except pot is okay if you have a teacher with you.”

And maybe some months later I would come visit you in Oklahoma and you would pick me up in a tricked out Raptor, no Confederate flag anymore because you feel pretty confident about the safety of State’s rights right now. Unloaded or loaded guns or whatever, I don’t really know how it works, just bouncing around in a steal locker in the bed. We would go to your house and you would announce we are pre-partying with absinthe and I would forget to check if that was even legal in this state. We would go out and party our butts off. And later we would go back to your place and talk all sorts of personal stories that make us laugh and cry. The next day we would shoot guns right in Sam’s backyard, why not? I’d post my silhouette paper target on facebook with the caption, “and this is why I am your nanny for the apocalypse!”  Then it’s knuckles and back to Burnlandia for me!

I know outlawing guns wouldn’t stop guns. And I probably wouldn’t snitch on the gun owners I know. If Obama actually came for his guns, do you think I would snitch on my dad?! And do you think banning guns would have saved my dad’s life? No, not him personally, not him in this lifetime. You think I would snitch on anyone who is otherwise a law-abiding citizen? Someone who isn’t violent? I do believe in personal choice. I know what he and all his friends would have done. I would have never mentioned it and neither would he and if/when shit hit the fan I would have been like “DAAAAAAAAADDY, SAAAAAAAM, all ya’ll SAAAAAAAAAAAAAAVE US!!!” If guns were a viable way to get protection that is.

I want to keep going with more analogies… But I think I should write about Hawaii’s false missile alarm later…. Libtard part II. Too much going on in this post already lol

That’s my Utopia guys! What’s yours? ———————> walks mic over to my friend dangling upside down in the aerial silks with her wide-eyed husband laying on his back underneath, just staring.

“You okay buddy?”

Snort. Smile. “Yeah.”

God Part II

I’m okay if your God is math and science, I said. You know what I am not okay with? I am not okay with your God being Money and Power.

And I don’t care what you call yourself on the outside.

I’ve tried being nice to you. That did not work out for me. Both of us left shattered. Every time.

Wait, oh my gosh! Actually , often times after I am screwed over for just trying to be nice to these people, they skip off seeming great. “Ah, look guys! She’s so mean and crazy!” You don’t stop, you don’t change. Why would you? And you know I am not just alluding to my personal shit here. This is collectively true about these people You need social pressure to change, not smiling and nodding. Embarrassment isn’t the way, but it is the CATALYST. And if someone’s primary motivation in life is money and power, we need to turn our back on them, for a sec.

PS: Here’s another thing these deluded people will say.
“Me? Selfish? I’ve got a family! Hello! That is so unselfish of me.”

Don’t kid yourself, you’re not fooling us. You don’t care about the kids, you care about your kids. The one’s you probably only had because you’re scared. You’re scared of mortality and your own insignificance.

Follow the money, people, follow the money.

Duh

 

God

I have a deep faith, I said that. But I’m not worried if you tell me you don’t have any faith in anything unseen or immeasurable. Why? I like your honesty, for one. You served me with a dose of Reality, and that’s the God I serve! If you haven’t had any out-of-this-world experiences, so when you think really hard about it, you don’t get this whole God thing, or if you’ve been mistreated horribly by seemingly happy people when you were an innocent child, why would you believe in God? Its easy to be a Christian in Oklahoma or an atheist at Burning Man, which is why I find myself gravitating towards atheist in Oklahoma and Christians at Burning man sometimes, because I know those mofos are being authentic. Takes some balls to be those people.

And I trust in God’s way and God’s time. Maybe you will “come around” to thinking like me and feeling the things I feel, or maybe God intended for people like you to stay just the way you are. I think God is too magnanimous to nit-pick how we find Him. I’m okay if you’re God is math or science. Lots of eyes and ears, out there measuring stuff and thinking about what it all could mean. That is Godly work to me.

I know I love the kids I work for. If they have a bad day, or even if they never come around to liking me for some reason, I would never turn my back on them. I would never abandon them. And I am just a woman. How much bigger is God? How much cuter and wondrous are all the possibilities of our humanity?

God Part II

The Bloods

You know what is cool about the Bloods? They don’t just have a backbone for themselves, they have a strong backbone for each other. I have no clue what horrible things gangs are up to today, I haven’t been following that part of journalism.*  But I do know that the Bloods actually have a strict code of ethics in how they treat each other, making it a safe place to belong, if you follow those ethics. I don’t agree with a lot of their core values, all that money and power and bitches and stuff, but I have always admired their backbone.

 

No Bad Days For Days!

The other day I was at the beach and I was sitting with this guy and this new couple and we laughed about something and this new couple walked off smiling at each other and I was smiling at them because even though this guy is best friends with the 47 year old man who Brock Turnered me and even though he blamed me for it, I actually like quite a lot about him and believe he deserves this beautiful new girl he is finally with. I was legitimately just thinking “Wow, sure is great to be me when I see this guy like this and it  makes me feel affirmative and happy and whole and I want to know this girl more because I can tell she is actually cool” when this other chick who I know doesn’t have much respect for me sort of slowly dances by and says to us, “Isn’t it nice to see people so happy? You know,” and she looks at us, “some people don’t like to see other people happy. Isn’t that weird?”

And my new friend looked at her quizzically and said, “Like what do you mean? Oh, yeah like jealous people!” And I wondered if she was trying to send me a shaming message because she deduced that since I felt so strongly that my perp should be held socially accountable for his actions against me and should be guided to stay-the-hell-away-from me, I couldn’t possibly want him or his friend to be happy. I could have easily been selfishly paranoid though because trauma, even  small kine like major betrayal, has the effect of making you more self-centered, no matter what, at least temporarily. That is just the physiology of it.

No bad days!

People like me don’t have that luxury, but you know what? I’ve never wanted living only with what we usually call positive feelings to be my end all goal in life. I’ve always felt that that positive insistence is just also sort of a lie. And kinda a mean lie at times. As my favorite comedian said, “Oh, that’s so nice of you, you go up to people in wheelchairs dancing? ‘Look what I can do!'”

Bliss is my inherent baseline but that doesn’t mean I shove the clouds away when they start rolling in.

The other day, or yesterday actually,  I was packing up the van with a mother I deeply admire and I said “It’s a perfect day for the beach,” without really thinking about it because I was happy it was chilly and a little windy and threatening rain. Her face did a funny flash and then she smiled because she knew what I meant.

My body is like the Hawaiian Islands. Even when the clouds roll in, I am so grateful to call my body and my heart my home.

I don’t ever want to insist that I have nothing but good days left in my life because really, that’s pretty damn selfish of me when the world is burning.

And sometimes, I may look recklessly emotional, but I am on to something powerful and moving.

Have you ever seen Kill Bill Vol. 2? The end is my favorite. My mom looks just like Beatrix Kiddo when she sobs. She got her little girl back but she had to murder her man and she’s sobbing tears of everything.

I had a night recently where I did just that. All night. And I wrote a little bit. And I kept just saying “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” because my heart feels so full and good and hopeful and even though I clean up everyone’s poop for a living, even though the guy I have a crush on doesn’t even look at my snap stories, and even though my car drives like a bumper car, I feel so rich and full and moved by everyone in my life and finally at home again in my heart and body.

Truth

Dear children, let us not love with words or speech but with actions and in truth.
-1 John 3:1

Truth, purity, sweet thoughts and one-pointed attention are all qualities that make one suitable to see the true Self.”
-The Yoga Sutras

“Authenticity is a collection of choices that we have to make every day. It’s about the choice to show up and be real. The choice to be honest. The choice to let our true selves be seen.”
-Brene Brown

“Only the truth of who you are, if realized, will set you free. ”
-Eckhart Tolle

“What draws people to be friends is that they see the same truth. They share it.”
-C.S. Lewis

Truth, like love and sleep, resents approaches that are too intense.”
-Wyston Hugh Auden

Without going to a dictionary, my definition of truth is the reality of that which actually is. Going to a dictionary, I found it uses the word itself in the first definition which I thought was something dictionaries were not suppose to do. Well, it says “true.”

E64F5C02-BEAF-4564-BD9F-8D71859D6F4B.jpeg

The facts, the science, the math. I have long been absorbed and agitated and motivated by the idea of truth. They call people like me “seekers.” That was my goal from age 11-29. What’s the truth?

“All of this is just a game!” I told my dad when I was 17.
“We are all just so full of shit, I can’t do this, this game is so stupid!”

“Play the game, Abby! You’re perfect for it!” He told me, “at least go to church, people will respect you more. Just go to church.”

At 12 I went to church camp and came back certain that Jesus was the truth, and infected by our counselors fears, I was terrified of any of my peers being sent to eternal damnation. “I know he huffs paint and listens to Nirvana but he is a genius and a sweetheart and his childhood was not at all easy, how could Jesus, embodiment of love and compassion, possibly send him to hell if I wouldn’t even send him to hell?” Questions like that gave me reasonable, innocent and heartfelt doubt to the narrative I was being served. I read and read and read when I should have been socializing and absorbed in school drama. I flipped courses and found the kind of logical dogma of the likes of Niles Eldridge and Richard Dawkins and was convinced that that was the path to understanding truth. I did not at all make a good atheist. The outside world seemed so empty and my insides felt ill equipped to deal. I went to kill myself when I was 16, with resignation that on the other side, maybe I would finally see the truth… the reality of that which actually is. Instead, I tripped balls, embarrassed myself to the maximum degree and was thrust right back in to the world I was trying to escape. When we say God is Truth, those of faith are saying God is Reality. It just is. God is the facts, the data, the science, the whole thing that not one single person can ever fully get a grasp on, especially because biologically we are designed to push it away, for our own individual protection.

A W E AND R E V E R E N C E

That’s the only individual truth I can hope for, the only fun I can cling to. My faith is so strong now. I don’t need to defend it in the same way I don’t need to run around the streets of Kailua at night insisting and checking that everyone recognize the sun is going to rise tomorrow. My faith is strong and we still need each other to understand truth. I need to check with my humanist atheist friends and my Christian friends and my gun enthusiasts and my social justice warriors and my rape-apologist adrenaline junkies and my Grandma and most importantly, your kids.

la illah ila Allah

There is no god, but God is one of my favorite declarations of faith.

The Angry Bitches are Coming!

 

They are coming. The angry bitches are coming. And they are coming for my second favorite director! I was raised super Christian, to have a firm understanding that we have to be careful what we feed our minds. Film, advertising, TV, books, all of this shapes our understanding of the world and most of what sells is not nurturing to our higher nature.  I was taught to understand the power of film and then I spent a few years ignoring it. Now, thanks to #timesup, I am fuckin’ cogitating. I’m feeling fervently hopeful that we are going to alter the course of history, we are all undergoing a cultural shift. I feel uncomfortable and I am a rebel, made for this shit, I can’t imagine how you must be feeling.

My last ex, before he was my boyfriend, he really dated me. Like, earnestly. I have not seen this performance in Hawaii. I can blame my circumstance and my confusion, so for now I will. But this guy, so many dinners, walks and movie nights without him ever making moves on me. M I K E W H I T E as they say on instagram. Sigh. I remember how quizzically he looked at me when I expressed my fandom for no other Hollywood elite than Quentin Tarantino which to me really meant Kill Bill I and II and what’s to become of them.

“Yeah, I guess I’m just surprised because he,”

“-goes against everything I value?”

Yeah, violence.  And like a lot of us, I was captivated by his effusive ego. I drank it all right down, all of his fathead opinions. QT is right, I didn’t know shit about film, so I should listen to him, this savant. Mike introduced me to True Romance and we laughed at how curtly Tarantino’s acting takes us out of the movie.  Jackie Brown was shot in the town I had then just moved to. Pulp Fiction was always a NO. Uma Thurman reminded me of my mother, feet and all, and the whole Kill Bill shebang reminded me of where I came from. The overt violence seemed was excusable to me because of some idea of QT’s autistic genius. Plus, she overcomes and she wins. Not okay, apparently! But I know someone who was raped in the exact way Beatrix was raped and so the whole vengeance pomp mixed with that daddy/sensei/boyfriend/tormentor thing had me revved. Five years later, I was following Uma Thurman closely when I saw her reactive Instagram posts to Roy Moore, and as she gently followed up with a picture of her daughter, because public rage is still embarrassing.  We didn’t know it but we needed this formerly unseen layer behind the Hollywood narrative. QT and U best buddies, his angelic goddess muse!!!! Suck it up and suck it in, Uma you are a star and all thanks to the deep and abiding love of this awkward film profundity. Not quite. Now, New York Times OpEds are operating like group therapists and we are all like, wait, whats her perspective, really? It’s The Mother herself.  Yes, finally Uma spoke and she has done so with the keen emotional intellect of the daughter of a prominent Buddhist scholar.

mama

Female rage, exciting when it’s Quentin Tarantino pageantry, embarrassing and uncomfortable when it pops up unannounced on our news feeds.

Most of us can agree.

I’m tuned in to what’s ahead for this team. According to her, Weinstein is still in therapy, which means he’s practicing what I’m practicing and what Uma is practicing. So, cool. All three of these players are highly intelligent, emotionally supported and zealously watched. I was going to write a blog on my recovery from deep shame but it looks like I’m going to need to grab some popcorn and sit back a bit because I believe, culturally, this showdown or kumbaya concert could be a downright game-changer.  Quentin Tarantino is not a sociopath and Weinstein is currently in training not to be a sociopath and Uma has been in anti-sociopathic training her entire life. I’m fired up for Quentin’s all time best method performance, finally. Authenticity is going to be his big break. (Yeah, that’s that fervent hope!)  And for Harvey, if he’s doing the work, “ruining his career” will quickly become simply, “changing his career,” which should automatically be the unintended consequence when one decides to abuse their power to such a degree in this great nation. Democracy! Checks and balances! Are we on the brink of creating a society that holds even powerful people accountable? Like we talked about in the beginning?

This is a real redpill moment for me, a consumer and a fan.  Genius fatheads are valuable. They make great artists and creators, and fun-time boyfriends quite frankly.  But this new layer, the female perspective?!?! I’m digginin’ it and I wanna hear more! We need all hands on deck, eyes wide, calling it like we see it. Uma gets it, I want to get it!

 

Edit: girlish hope. Rapey gonna rape, guys. Rapey gonna rape.

Be Careful

Some months ago I babysat for a family with a baby boy and a 2 year old girl. She was playing with toys, crouched over her knees and I was next to her, probably looking at my phone. Suddenly, I felt too hot in the room so I got up and decided to jump over the little girl to the fan switch at the exact same moment she shot her head up and I kicked her  in the head, or as I prefer to say, popped her with my heal a little bit. After making sure she was physically okay I had to assure her and myself she was emotionally okay. This was the first time I was watching her, she had no idea why  I kicked her and it could easily be construed that I kicked her because I am a child head kicker! I think she forgot all about it. I have worked for them a few other times and she seemed safe. It was probably hardest on me because I know my continued struggles and weaknesses and being careful, paying attention… it’s why I am bad at math.

I wanted to start with a story about a time I felt deeply ashamed as a child but it got derailed very quickly. I was a late 8 or 9 years old, sure that I had wanted to be the one to walk with my grandmother, who was dying of breast cancer. We were leaving the hospital and she tripped on something because I was going too fast and she fell and got a giant gash in her head and we had to turn around and go right back in to the emergency room. Where she got stitches.

“NO!” That’s all my mom had to say through out my account.

“We were outside of the grocery store in Fairview and I don’t even know if you were there. Aunt Weezie was there, ask your Aunt Weezie. She got that gash from the bathroom, Abby. Your grandad was there and she wouldn’t let him take her to the hospital and nobody could convince her to get stitches. She needed them but she never got them. It had already healed by the time she died, Abby! It was so big because she didn’t get stitches. She hardly got hurt when she stumbled but no, we weren’t at the hospital, that was in Fairview.”

My Aunt Weezie’s account was also different. “Oh no, we weren’t at the hospital, we took  her after because she did hurt her chin but again she couldn’t be convinced to get stitches. Were you there? Yes, you were probably there then. No, she threatened your grandad that’s why he called us. She wouldn’t get stitches. She was very stubborn, you remember that, that is where you get your stubbornness from, your grandmother.”

Oh.

I have spent a lot of time elsewhere in life. This has effected my school, my work, my relationships and perhaps my fate. Despite this, much of my experience has been exceedingly beautiful and privileged and I need to share how I found freedom and ask for help where I am still trapped.

Some people have obvious flaws and weaknesses. I have a smile, a strong, tan and slender body and my ex-boyfriend says I am an absolute expert at big picture concepts. But I really struggle with the details, being careful. I know it is all very precious, sometimes fragile and temporary and even with that knowledge, without constant reminders, I struggle to move with grace. Maybe I am not the right person to talk about all these deep dark things I need to talk about. But I want us to heal and my mind has been consumed with the stories that my therapist assures me he doesn’t believe are pathologically obsessive.

It might help to share.

A few days ago, I  got to spend some time with the twin girls I babysit. I didn’t know I needed to write this post yet and we were packing up to drive to Waimanalo, to meet with some friends of mine. I Haoled Logan in to her car seat and knocked her foot. She sweetly alerted me. “Be careful, I have an owie.”

“Oh, I’m sorry Logan, thank you! Sometimes I need reminders and especially from my friends. You can always remind me to be careful.”