The shrill ring of the phone sent shock waves through my body. I was on edge. My husband was supposed to have been home half an hour ago.

"Aloha," I answered cheerfully, trying to disguise the anxiety in my voice.

"Hey, Babe," came his voice.

It was as if he was calling to have a casual conversation.

"Where are you?" I asked, obviously perturbed.

You would think that after 16 years of marriage, I would be used to his relaxed ways. I am. It's just that others are not. My husband had organized a potluck at the stadium with a group of our football 'ohana. He had assured everyone that we would be there promptly at 4 p.m. But in typical fashion, he was running late.

"I'm on my way," he said in a cheerful voice.

If I were a casual acquaintance, I could easily interpret his statement to mean "I'll be there in a matter of minutes." But those of us who have known him for, oh, these many years understand implicitly what his announcement implies.

"I'm on my way" translates "I'll see you when I see you" or "I'll get there when I'm good and ready."

Our newly founded football 'ohana has not had the advantage of being regularly exposed to my husband's philosophy on timeliness. I have. So when the hour hand crept closer to 4 p.m. and there was no sign of husband or son, my anxiety level elevated a notch.

There is an 'olelo no'eau that describes an impatient person:

'A'ohe hua o ka mai'a i ka la ho'okahi. This wise saying translates: Bananas do not fruit in a single day.

I admit I can be impatient, but usually with just cause. As I was about to contact our friends, I heard his car pull up.

I met my husband and son in the driveway. Tables, chairs, food and lei had been already loaded into my vehicle.

"OK, let's go!" I said, slipping into the driver's seat.

"Hold on a minute. I've got to get something," he said.

"Gosh, Mom, Dad takes forever," my 11-year-old grumbled.

We sat in the Durango, waiting. My son and I discussed his school day. We selected a CD to play on our drive to the stadium. I described our menu for the potluck. After 15 minutes, I asked my youngest to go in search of his dad. Within seconds, he returned.

"Where is he?" I asked.

I could tell by the frown that his dad had gotten distracted.

"He's watering the kalo," my youngest moaned.

"Well, what did he say when you told him we were waiting?" I asked.

"He said, 'I'm on my way!' "

Reach Ka'ohua Lucas at Family Matters, 'Ohana section, The Advertiser, P.O. Box 3110, Honolulu, HI 96802; fax 525-8055; or at ohana@honoluluadvertiser.com.