So, On Account o' Today Bein' Pig Callers Day...

I bring you a gen-yew-ine, bonafide champeen circa 2008, with a bit of a twist on the typical:

June 11th is King Kamehameha Day!

If you're lucky enough to be anywhere in Hawaii today, then you get to party on through the festivities of King Kamehameha Day, and you're having a fabulous time! If you're not lucky enough to be anywhere in Hawaii today (like me), well, then you and I can live vicariously as I tell you all about what we're missing.

King Kamehameha Day is celebrated annually in Hawaii on June 11th, to honor the life and times of its greatest statesman, warrior, and king, known as Kamehameha the Great.

Some interesting historical facts on the day

• King Kamehameha Day was established by royal decree of the ruling great-grandson, Kamehameha V, in 1871, and first celebrated on June 11, 1872.
• It is one of the first holidays proclaimed by the Governer of Hawaii and the State Legislature upon Hawaii's transformation to statehood in 1959.
• King Kamehameha Day is the only holiday in the United States created to honor a once-reigning monarch in the only state that was once a kingdom.
• 2009 marks the 137th anniversary of the celebration of King Kamehameha Day.

Who was King Kamehameha?

At the time of his birth, Hawaiians believed Kamehameha fulfilled the traditional prophesy that there would be a male born who would vanquish all other chiefs, becoming the greatest of all Hawaiian chiefs, and that the sign of his birth would be a comet. Kamehameha's actual birthdate is not specifically known, but is sometimes listed as between 1748 and 1761, and some believe it was 1758 - a year that Halley's Comet was visible from Hawaii.

He spent his childhood being trained in warfare skills and preparing for the role of warrior-king of the Island of Hawaii. He went on to use these skills as the first king to unify the Hawai'ian Islands: Ni'ihau, Kaua'i, O'ahu, Moloka'i, Lānaʻi, Kaho'olawe, Maui, and Hawai'i. Once this was achieved, Kamehameha ruled in peace for the rest of his life: establishing trade with foreign countries, introducing new plant and animal life, promoting agriculture, and fostering industry. He was known as the "Napoleon of the Pacific" for his achievements in warfare and diplomacy, and died in 1819.

King Kamehameha Day Festivities

The earliest observances of the day included various competitions: horse racing, Velocipede races, sack races, wheelbarrow races, and foot races. In 1901, the tradition of the lei draping ceremony was added, where statues of King Kamehameha are decorated with leis.

In 1939, the King Kamehameha Celebration Commission was established and charged with organizing and running all festival activities. Today, those activities include:

• The traditional lei draping ceremony of King Kamehameha's statues
• The King Kamehameha Hula Competition, which has gained international attention
• The floral parades held at many locations throughout Hawaii, which include what has become a favorite feature: traditional pa'u riders. (The pa'u riders reperesent a royal court let by a queen on horseback, followed by princesses representing the 8 major islands of Hawaii and Molokini.)
• The Ho'olaule'a, which means "celebration," and is a big block party with food and music.
• The cultural exhibits set up throughout Kapi'olani Park, which are full of arts and crafts, games, sports, etc.
• And of course, there are feasts. (What celebration would be complete without those?)

So, if you're there, have a wonderful King Kamehameha Day! And if you're not, start saving your pennies - you have 364 days to pile 'em up so you can get to King Kamehameha Day 2010.

Aloha!

Sources:

Kamehameha Day (Wikipedia)

King Kamehameha Celebration (Library of Congress)

Today is King Kamehameha Day! (NowPublic.com)

Kamehameha I (Wikipedia)

King Kamehameha Day (Boston Globe Sunday Magazine)

Hey, Baby...What's Your Type?

Types. 

Even the most open-minded among us tend to pigeonhole people into Types. We use Type to describe personality: Type A, Type B, Type Where-Did-They-Get-This-Guy? We use Type to accept or reject possible romantic interests: "Him?? Ewww. He is, like, so not my type." We use Type to explain behavior: "I knew she wouldn't green light that experimental project. She is such a pessimist."

We even use Type as we run our own lives. Back in college, my friends chose their class sections based on the time the class met, because, "No way did I sign up for that 8 AM class. I'm totally not a Morning Person." Now, me? I did pick those 8 AM classes. But it wasn't that I'm a Morning Person. Because I'm not. I hate getting up early. (So why did I pick 8 AM classes, you ask? Well, that's another story for another time.) 

Aaaanyway, the whole Morning Person Business brings me to my point for today (and you thought I didn't have one): what if there isn't an existing Type that fits you? See, every time I've heard someone say, "I'm a (insert time-of-day here) person," I've only ever heard two choices to insert here: Morning...or Night. And I don't fit into either one of those Types. 

My non-conformity is most noticeable in my writing life. Take today, for example. (Or really, any day in the last oh-so-many months.) This morning, the itch to write made itself known. My fingers alternately clenched into fists and then splayed wide open, and my eyes lingered on my writing bag as I hurried past it to get the kiddos ready and off to school. Then, once they stampeded onto the bus, I hurried to finish the mundane tasks of life: brushing my teeth (oh, yes...don't get too close to me at the bus stop), folding underwear (which I assumed were clean), and shoving Dust Bunnies back into their hidey holes. Once all of that was out of the way, I finally cracked open the laptop, ready to pour out some thoughts.

And that's where it all came to a screeching halt. What to write? What to write? Twiddle, twiddle, twiddle. I realized I could either waste time with an empty head and an absent muse, or I could move on to errands (grocery run, pay the dentist run, get a new house key made run) so I could come back home and try to write again. So, I ran the errands, came home, unloaded the truck, put away the groceries (well, mostly), then sat down at my computer to try again.

Still, nothing interesting seemed to be flowing. So, I checked email. I looked in on Facebook. I leafed through writer mags. Leaf, leaf, leaf. And then: Oh! Hey! What a great quote! Scribble, scribble, scribble. Finally, inspiration strikes! Yes! I have today's blog post! Gleefully, I sign into my blog, and it's wonderful, and the words are tumbling over each other in their haste to flow out of my fingers to the keyboard.

And then, I glance at the clock. Crappity-crap-crap! The kiddos will be home in a little over an hour, and I only just got started, and I have so much great stuff to write. But once Handsome Boy and Lovely Girl come bounding off of the bus, my laptop shuts down and my pen lies idle, because at that point, my day belongs to them. I'm not the Type who can write while kiddos clamor around me, eager to show me all their treasures from their day. Thus, my writing mojo must be cut short.

So, I'm not a Morning Person. And I'm not a Night Person. I'm not even an I-Can-Write-in-Chaos person. I don't fit. I'm the square peg trying to squeeze into a round hole. 

So you know what? It's time for a new Type.

I'm an Afternoon Person!

So there.

Who Knew There Was a Word for THAT?

So, I was Googling around the other day - as I so often do to feed my need for learning about all things weird, wacky, and/or wonderful - and did a search for "funny words." I found some great ones and wish to share, so that you, too, can bulk up your vocabulary. Enjoy!

Hobbledehoy - an awkward, gawky youngster existing somewhere between a man and a boy. Ten points anyone who can find the word describing the female version of this. (Though we females are, in general, a graceful and sophisticated lot, there are those among us - ahem - who harbor a particular fondness for some well-delivered potty humor.)

Borborygmus - the sound of a belly that rumbles. As in, "Jaime's ever-louder borborygmus told his dad he'd better get that mac-n-cheese on the table - and quick."

Pogontrophy - the cultivation of a beard. As in, "Gerald Ottenbein gazed dejectedly at his reflection. His first-ever attempt at pogontrophy was not going at all well."

Tittle - the dot above the letter "i." Really? Who thinks up these things?

Callipygian - having a beautifully shaped behind, as in, "Persistent visits to the gym can help one to attain the callipygian ideal." I'm just not even gonna touch this one...

Defenestration - a noun meaning the throwing of a person or thing out a window. Yes, a person or thing. A friend and regular reader of this blog called my attention to Defenestration.com, where you can read all about a sculpture on the corner of 6th and Howard Street in San Francisco that shows defenestration in action (with things, though, not people). Very interesting, and worth a click - or a real live visit, if you're able.

And the final entry for today:

Floccinaucinihilipilification* - the act of judging something to be worthless. As in, "I find her floccinaucinihilipilification of the pursuit of social status quite refreshing."  According to Wikipedia, floccinaucinihilipilification is listed as "one of the longest words in the English language." And believe it or not, floccinaucinihilipilification can be found in the Oxford English Dictionary as far back as 1741. 

*You know, it's quite fun typing floccinaucinihilipilification. I even tried spelling it with only one "c," to see if Spell Check really has this ridiculously long word in its arsenal, or if my repeated typing of floccinaucinihilipilification just forced it into such a major conniption that it imploded, leaving not so much as a wisp of smoke behind. 

Guess what? Floccinaucinihilipilification is actually in there. 

Cool. 

Today's Edition of Things You Just Don't See Every Day

We here at Chez Wheedleton used part of our holiday weekend to take in a movie. Turns out, it was mildly eventful.

First, we went to Rita's Italian Ice for refreshments while I tried out a new app I recently downloaded to my phone to order our tickets. I had full bars. I was in a 3G area. It was supposed to be Quick and Easy. However, our anticipated Quick and Easy ticket purchase rapidly morphed into Seemingly Endless and Recalcitrant, so we gave up and just drove the ten minutes to the theater and bought our tickets the Old Fashioned Way - at the ticket booth. 

So, tickets in hand, we realized we were a full hour early for the show we purchased. Now, Handsome Boy + any kind of wait = DWtH (Disaster Waiting to Happen), so we took a walk around the shopping center attached to the movie complex to occupy our time. With not much to see, and stores about to close for the day, we dashed into the only store that could be browsed: a Walgreens. My husband C followed the kiddos as they followed their instincts directly to the toy aisle, while I followed my instincts directly to the lipstick aisle.

Understand, I am by no means a Girly-Girl (not that there's anything wrong with that), but I do like to wear a bit of make-up, and my trusty Revlon lipstick (Super Lustrous Shiny Sheers #845 Sheer Plumdrop, to be precise) has been down to that little blob-of-extra-lip-stuff-they-use-at-the-bottom-of-the-tube-to-keep-the-lipstick-from-falling-out-of-the-top-of-the-tube-every-time-you-twist-it-up for quite a while, now.

Anyway, there I was, searching the make-up wall for my favorite lip stuff (which it seems Revlon doesn't make anymore, 'cause I can't find it anywhere) when Handsome Boy sauntered up to me with his hands behind his back and a tell-tale impish grin on his face, followed a little ways behind by C and Lovely Girl, who had suspiciously blank faces. 

"What do you have?" I asked, raising an eyebrow and trying to lean around to see behind him. He is notorious for begging cookies and candy from his father in the store, and his father is notorious for buying them for him, and I had no intention of once again being the Smuggler of Snacks into the movie theater just because I'm the only one in this family who carries a bag of any sort. 

Well, Handsome Boy seemed to be struggling with two things - whatever was behind his back, and keeping a straight face. He quickly failed at both, yanking a packaged whoopie cushion out in front of him, squeezing with all his might, and erupting into uncontrollable guffaws...along with the rest of us. Alas, the fun only lasted for a few seconds, since the store announced it was closing, so we made our exit exactly as we had made our entrance: sans lipstick or whoopie cushion...or snacks.

With a half hour to go until movie time and no stores left to invade, we made our way back to the theater, bought the requisite snacks and drinks, and settled into our seats. Well, almost. We managed about a minute of settling in before C said, "I think my seat is broken. Is your seat broken? I think my seat is broken." Meanwhile, he was wiggling all kinds of ways to try to get comfortable, and he looked like a kid who really needed to use The Facilities, so we decided to slide down to different seats and try again. This time the Settling Process made its way to completion, and we got set to watch the two thousand and one promos and commercials until the movie started.

Then, a few sips into my Dr. Pepper, I realized that - unlike C - I really did need to use The Facilities, so I excused myself and hurried off so as to hurry back so as to not miss the actual movie we came to see. Upon entering The Facilities, I found I had my pick of "seating," as it was utterly deserted. It was after I made my choice and secured the stall door that I saw it: a Thing You Just Don't See Every Day. So, I did what anyone would do: I snapped a picture, then chose a different stall to complete my business before hurrying back to the movie.

After I sat down, and with mere minutes to go before the movie started, I leaned over to C and the kiddos and conspiratorily whispered to them my Facilities Discovery. Then I pulled out my camera and showed them the shot. They each gazed down at the photo, then back at me. And every single one of them had only one question:

"Did you get the quarter?"

A Leap of Faith

Do you want to know why I work out?

It's because when my four-and-a-half-foot-tall, sixty-some-pound son leaps down from the bus steps, sprints full-speed up the road, and then hurls himself through the air at me - arms wide and grin even wider...

...he has complete faith that I will catch him.

The Consequences of Childhood Insecurities

I am five feet, nine inches tall. If I were a guy, that would be considered on the short side. Since I'm not a guy, I'm considered to be on the tall side, and have been so since elementary school. Well, except for my junior high years, when the other girls caught up to me for a while. (The junior high years. They're such an anomoly. I wish I could have just skipped them altogether...)

Anyway, if you, too, were on the tall side growing up, you - like me - had to wear floods far more often than your fragile psyche approved of. (You know, floods: pants that were most unfashionably several inches higher than the tops of your shoes.) I was so relieved when the early 80's rolled around, and it became the "it" thing in our school to wear funky striped socks with jeans rolled clear up to our knees. And when the legwarmer-with-jeans thing came into style, well, it was a beautiful thing. In fact, I think capris were invented by tall people who endured the ridicule of having to wear floods during their formative years. 

So, ever since I started making my own way in the world, I've made sure that every single pair of pants I buy comes clear down to the tops of my shoes. And if they actually drag the ground some...even better. And when laundry days come, I stretch every single pair of pants as long as I can every time they come out of the washer, then hang them on a rack to dry. It is the ultimate in flood insurance.

Which brings me to this morning. It's rainy here on the East Coast. Really, really, really rainy. So I pulled on my comfy, well-worn, and impressively long walking-to-the-bus-stop sweatpants, and the kiddos and I dutifully dodged puddles and tiptoed through the minefield of worms that cover the road between home and bus stop. Then I dutifully picked my way back through the puddles and worms as I headed back home. 

As soon as I got in the door, I kicked off my shoes and headed downstairs to grapple yet again with The Little White Insulting Box. After firing everything up, I walked back to stand on the Wii Fit board and looked down for a moment to steel myself against another round of insults, and...

Wait...

What is that?

Well, it seems that fabulously long, flood-insured pants actually do have a bit of a downside: there on the carpet wriggled a very bewildered worm that unwittingly hitched a ride inside Chez Wheedleton courtesy of the hem of my ground-dragging pants.

And I don't care. I will never wear floods again.

Bring it on, worms!