Lopaka Lounge

The coffee grinder started whirring away in the kitchen triggering a Pavlovian reaction to kick off the covers and get my ass out of bed. It was clearly going to be a beautiful day but for some reason, I just didn’t feel like being a part of it. Something was bothering me and I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.

Ray was sitting there checking his email when I shuffled into the office. He kissed me as I sat down at my computer. I felt numb and mildly cranky. As my eyes scanned over a couple of emails, Ray started to exercise. I could hear him huffing and puffing behind me. It was annoying — like a secondary alarm clock reminding me that I not only had to regain consciousness, now I had to start exerting a lot of energy.

After taking a healthy swig of my coffee, I mustered up every amount of energy I had to dismiss Mr. Fuck it (that’s the voice in my head that says, “Fuck it, you don’t have to <insert important activity> today.”) I got on the floor and started doing my push-ups.

Mr Fuck it got in my head and would not shut up.

“Why do you even bother working out? You don’t bulk up. You’ll always pretty much look the same.”
“Oh ha ha, now you’re doing curls. Your arms will always look skinny. It’s not going to happen.”
“Squats?? You’re a joke — a flabby-assed joke. You. Have. No. Butt.”
“Perfect Push-ups? Ha! Perfect loser. Face it, your never going to look any different — never.”

I continued my workout while trying my best to ignore Mr. Fuck it. Not an easy task for a man who has struggled with lifelong self esteem issues. My thoughts wandered off and before I knew it, Ray and I were in the car heading to work.

“I’m feeling really discouraged today,” I said. “Why do I do all this working out and running when I don’t see any real results?”

Ray was sympathetic and reminded me that he sees the results and that I just need to not think about it — kind of like waiting for a pot of water to boil. I needed to stop examining myself under a microscope and let the results happen.

I got into work and fired up my computer. I had this longing for someone to talk to. Someone like a guru or a spirit guide. Someone who knew me inside and out and could understand me…like a father. I looked at my calendar. It was July 15th, my dad’s birthday. He would have been 80.

Mr. Fuck it started laughing. It all made sense now. I was depressed.

I was never close to my father. We got to know each other in the last few months of his life. He passed away in December of last year. Turns out he was quite a great guy. Too bad I didn’t find out until he was dying.

I was adopted when I was four months old. I grew up in a loving family and had wonderful caring parents but for most of my life, I have wondered about the biological side of my existence. Where did I come from?

When I was 29, I found my birth mother and was surprised to find that I had siblings. It was interesting to meet her but I still felt as if an important piece of the puzzle was missing — my biological father.  Who contributed to the male side of me? My bio mom said that I look and sound just like my father and that he was a great guy but…who was he?

I fear that I will never be able to solve that piece of the puzzle. Today, being reminded of the death of my father by the date of his birth also galvanized the fact that I will probably never know my birth father (who, by the way, was described in my adoption records as having a muscular build — perhaps he could have given me training tips).

My birth father was 32 when I was born 44 years ago. If he was still alive, he’d be 76. My birth mother claims his name was Charles Long. When she told me that, it didn’t sound too convincing. He was married with children. She might not want me to find him. I can understand why…I guess. They met at Probst Tool and Die in Burbank, California. He was a machinist and she was a punch-press operator. Her name at the time was Kathy Dix. It was 1965. I was put up for adoption the following year.

Did I just give out too much personal information? I don’t know… perhaps I was just hoping that maybe, just maybe, if I put it out there, someone might be looking for me…

Well the bunnies are growing quickly. According to Rabbitweb.net, the “white blaze” on their foreheads is an indicator that the bunny is old enough to leave the nest.

This photo was taken yesterday afternoon. The bunnies were gone this morning.

There were three of them in the little nest. I assume we’ll see them around from time to time as long as the don’t become dinner for some bigger animal. The courtyard is a safe place for them to hide from coyotes.

I love living in the country with the bunnies. I even like the snakes and lizards too. I can do without the insects though.

This photo is an example of how tiny the bunnies are…

So teeny!

On a side note, we celebrated Ray’s birthday yesterday. It was nice to be able to have cocktail hour in the pool again!

Last week, Ray noticed a hole had been dug into the island/planter we put in the driveway last summer. Usually, at this time of year, such a hole is a good indication of an expectant momma rabbit.

Now, Ray and I tend to have a very live-and-let-live attitude about the wildlife on our property but a hole in the middle of our landscaping project was kind of an eyesore. We have plenty of land with soft dirt. Can’t  momma bunny have her babies somewhere else?

Ray covered the hole back up. Sorry momma, this is where we draw the line. That being said; never underestimate the tenacity of a momma bunny. Just days later the hole was back.  This time there was a little surprise in it.

Isn’t baby bunny too cute for words? There are actually three bunnies in there! Ray is so funny. He’s like the protective father now. Checking to make sure they’re OK. Worrying that they are in a vulnerable place.  (I should have included a wider shot to illustrate how “open” this spot is.)

Anyway, the bunnies are fine for now. I’ll keep my camera ready for updates. They are so cute!! Who doesn’t love a baby bunny?

Last month I received an email from Esquire.com regarding this photo on my Flickr account.  They were interested in featuring it in an upcoming tongue-in-cheek article on their site titled “What Not to Wear to Work”.

What Not to Wear to Work???

I was mildly offended since I’m wearing a navy blue Emanuel Ungaro suit with a respectable red silk tie.   OK, So my hair was a little messy but really…

The photo was taken at my nephew’s graduation from West Point in 2006.  (George W. Bush delivered the commencement speech!  That was interesting.)

Since I am somewhat of an attention whore, I gave them permission.   I figured that perhaps this would be the “after” photo.  The example of what to wear to work.

After checking the Esquire.com site over and over for days, the article finally posted.  Sadly, I did not make the cut.  Perhaps they came to their senses.  I think I have a pretty good idea of what to wear to work.

Here is the article.