On the road again....

(Hum a little Willie Nelson as you read)

Joseph and Mary, Bob and Bill, are trudging on. As they do every year.

Bob and Bill? Who are Bob and Bill? you ask. (And, yeah, it looks like Bob brought a friend this year. Sort of flashy in her bright orange, if you ask me. A girl after my own heart!)

Yes, Bob and Bill. They joined the journey to Bethlehem years ago. Joe and Mare (affectionate names given when my babes were wee) begin in Nazareth as we light the first Advent candle. They travel to Bethlehem across windowsills, up and down stairs, (Be careful, Mary. Those stairs are dangerous!) and through the now quiet rooms that once housed my aforementioned wee babes.Ahh, me...

 Bill showed up on the stairs next to the weary couple after a St Andrew's Feastday Celebration in Jackson back in...1994??  He had been a party favor nestled in some blue jello. You know--Andrew the fisherman.  He dropped on the stairs as we came in that night. And, lo and behold, the next morning he had joined them. He proved himself a faithful traveler, going all the way to the stable with them.

We lost Bob the next year. He was gone, nowhere to be found. Sigh.

It happens. Mary got lost one year. She had been in the windowsill when we had our annual St Nicholas Party. This was back in about 1986. There were lots of adults at this party. Multiply "lots" by 10. That's how many children were there.

Mary was at Elizabeth's we were pretty sure.

Writing the Magnificat.

 She??(or something like) showed up in time to give birth, but, Honey, I'm here to tell you, she was lookin' ...
 Well...
 We used to call it "rode hard and put up wet".(I do know PriestHusband spent some time carving on Christmas Eve. I'm just sayin'.) We later found the much healthier looking, fully revived Mary in the tinkertoys.

Back to Bob.We lost him. BUT! He reappeared on St Nicholas Day! Yup. Found him in our mailbox with a note from the saint himself. He's been with us ever since, and, as you can see, he now has a lady friend.

Bill--not sure if he is the rider or the horse--showed up the next year. He doesn't get lost.

Well. Except that the WHOLE GANG was lost for a week this year. My scattered brain seems to be scattering overtime these days.

Now,we are found.

Now, we travel.

I've been making Advent playlists on Spotify today.Two settings of  Oh, Come, Oh, Come Emmanuel  I share with you, each haunting in their own way.

The first one reminds me of Balm in Gilead from Spitfire Grill..
http://grindingtapes.org/artists/mr_sister/merry_christmas_brother_sister/audio/oh_come_oh_come_emmanuel.mp3


This next one. It's just right. Deep, deep longing.

http://www.myspace.com/music/player?sid=74750077&ac=now

And now, I am going to Advent Lessons and Carols.

Wait with me.

My daughter got married! It literally took my breath away!!

Yes, it's true. Bridegirl is now a Mrs. And Future Son-in-Law is now Son-in-Law. It was perhaps the most expansive experience of this whole expansive summer. It broadened my understanding of Love and Sacrament, moving way beyond the couple standing in front of the priest. I kept telling BG not to worry, that it wasn't really about her. I sort of believed myself, but not like I do now. As my friend, MM, said (as he orchestrated rehearsal dinner, altar guild, silver for reception, blah, blah, blah, he did it!), "We did a wedding. We didn't have one done to us."
 And the operative word there is "we". So many lovely people, so many wonderful gifts.
Let's see...just a FEW HIGHLIGHTS...

GIRL PARTY arranged by BBG and DIL where girls from throughout BG's life performed?? songs from the period. If you are savvy enough, you can probably find the video out there. I look like the insane asylum patient singing a frantic lullaby to her. But her friends are really cute.

Meanwhile the boys caramelized onions to be used for the reception food.

FRIDAY MORNING--off to FarmerBoy's farm to harvest vegies for reception and flowers for bouquets and tables.Yes, FB and DIL were the force behind the reception. All local. Much grown by their own good selves.

NEXT--lovely bridesmaids' luncheon hosted by my two Favorite Sisters in all the world. (From Jahhckson, of course!)

THEN--to the flower sacristy with the bridesmaids to make our bouquets. Such delightful , giddy, FUN energy in that room. LOTS of estrogen!! I was able to incorporate  (with the help of the Flower Queen) some of the roses from BG's childhood friend's grandfather's garden. And they were the real deal. Smelled like heaven.( I know that was a lot of possessives to follow, but that is my point. This sacrament--outward and visible sign , you know,---just kept spreading its fingers further and further out. Amazing!!) Also, Number One Flower Assistant ?? Aside from being my oldest dearest friend here and beyond, bridging those two great states, AR and MS, she was also the force behind the  making of BG's  May Day wreaths way back in 4th grade. Amazing again!

ON TO Rehearsal and Dinner. Zipper did break on BG's dress as we were getting ready to go. Never mind! BBG has a hundred to choose from. Ripped through closets, left a maelstrom of shoes and dresses, but, hey. We weren't even late. I don't think. Can't quite remember. Dinner was lovely, outside, perfect night, best bartenders in the world, local fare by the Root Cafe. Lovely, moving words spoken by  beautiful friends.

And I'll say it again--orchestrated by MM. As he said, "You and I will put on some grand affairs in the nursing home."

SATURDAY MORNING--  I felt like a character in The Great Gatsby. Gorgeous weather , delectable brunch in the backyard of our dear friends. I guess they'll be named DF in blogland. Certainly applies. It was a Gift. Singlehandedly they hosted a party for the masses. We were well fed, well attended. And all of the myriad out of towners who came to witness and support were there. Amazing.
SATURDAY AFTERNOON- BG and friend go to get hair done while I (yikes!) press the dress.
Another friend calls out of the blue--"Anything you need?" "Yes! Come get this credit card and veil and take it to BG!" All cars were out and about, and BG had just called me. Multi-friend tasking.
SPEAKING OF  the dress...it was  a 90's rescue. We cut out the shoulders, took off the GIANT flowers and bows, cut out an entire section of the skirt, (thanks to my Favorite Seamstress for then putting it all back together!). And then the Flower Fairy helped me make those beautiful little rosettes that were the new shoulders. More magic.

AND THEN IT'S TIME... we gather for pictures, BBG entertains, we giggle and laugh, we do wall pushups, we sing Disney songs...and then we go to the bell tower. I peek in. The most gorgeous altar flowers ever--a gift from the Flower Queen.They incorporate some of FarmerBoy's zinnias and basil.The music--another gift, this one from...ok. He has to be called Sugar Daddy. But get your mind out of the gutter. He insisted that BG needed music fit for a queen. And he provided it. Strings, a trumpet, the organ and the most wonderfully genuine, talented, sincere, and lovely children's choir. AND--I got to process to Queen of Sheba. How appropriate.

 The church is full of so many pieces of us. So much of our past, linked together now with the past of another.Because, yes,  SIL's people are here as well. Certainly not as many--Cali is a long way away. His grandparents are sorely missed, but we know they are with us. His mother and sister are here. And then there is his Dad's family. They certainly get the travel prize. 3 from New Zealand, one from SC, one from Cali.

 And while this was our first meeting, we hit the ground running. We all worked together...maybe a little more than we intended to, but..we will never forget it.

I can't describe the wedding. I might try later.

AND THE RECEPTION...PH's custom chandelier, St Michael's plates and tables, my mama's and my grandmama's silver, MM's silver, delicious local fare pulled together by FB, DIL and their army, (my mama's pimiento cheese, homemade biscuits made by DIL and FB, homemeade jams from the local jam queen, Beth Retzloff,  it goes on and on.) Too many things to say, but one favorite image. A picture taken by my brother as we encircled the bride and groom and blessed them in confetti. Confetti made by BG, SIL and their cadre. It was punched out of the wrapping paper from wedding gifts received (and some old maps found in Grandmama and Grandaddy's attic). Things a mama ponders in her heart.

SUNDAY MORNING---La D has brought the party to Arkansas. She has toted quiche upon quiche and muffin upon muffin from the Great State of Mississippi to the Great State of Arkansas. (She also made the Amazing tomato sandwiches for the reception. We left for pics on Saturday and she set to slicin'.) A tired but happy crowd gathered on our back porch to relish a little bit more.

BUT WAIT. There's more. Instead of renting plates, it was my great idea  to use St Michael's plates and hire a friend to wash them. Well, he washed a whole lotta dishes . And then his back went out. So on Sunday Bride and Groom (and all of us related to ) washed dishes. We told those new Zealanders and Californians it was a Southern Tradition. We most certainly knew each other by the end of the day. Red beans and rice made by the King of All Things Kitchen on my back porch. No words. Magic.Amazing.

AND THEN!!! I promise. This is it. Most of you know I am  a student of Family Systems. And a cardinal rule of FS is that whenever there is a big Change in the system, the System will do all in its power to keep everything the same. Maintain the status quo. So I had warned BG. Look out for acting out. We joked about their cat. Malarkey (my name for him) would likely be the one to act out.
BUT I WAS WRONG. I get the prize for biggest Post Wedding Acting Out. A week and two days after the wedding I fell down the stairs , broke some ribs, spent 3 days in the hospital with a collapsed lung.

LIKE I SAID... My daughter got married. It literally took my breath away. Amazing!

If the Beatles were Hawaiian...

If the Beatles were Hawaiian, then the song wouldn't make sense.

Aloha, aloha! I don't know why you say aloha, I say aloha.

Well, I guess it makes sense, it just doesn't sound very good. Aloha means hello. And goodbye. And I love you.
Aloha, Hawaii.

Never say never (again!)

I 'm done. Yeah, like a turkey. Finished. Never again. Don't say those words. They'll come back to get you.

Unless you're smart, like my dear friend Daisy. Just add a disclaimer. A condition.

Daisy was the cook at the conference center where PH and I lived the first 10 years of raising our brood. Daisy said PH was the finest little Christian bossman she'd ever had. Her words. And I still believe it to be amongst the highest of compliments he's ever received.(But that's another story and I've already got two going here...) Anyway, Daisy loved to go to the dog tracks. She and her daughter, Jerlean, would regale me with tales of their weekend adventures at the tracks every Monday. Sometimes they'd win, but not often.

Then the tornado hit. Jerlean was there when it hit, and it was mighty scary. Lights went out and protective bars came down over the money windows. No one was hurt, but it was an evening to remember. Daisy wasn't there. She and Henry were in his truck. On the WAY to the tracks. Daisy said it was the scariest moment of her life. "I got down on my knees and I told God if he got me outta there I'd never go to the tracks again!"

Well,God came through, Daisy lived to tell me the tale.

Fast forward a few weeks... A Monday morning and Daisy is telling me about going to the tracks again. "Daisy," I said, "I thought you told God you'd never go the tracks again! What happened?"
"I SAID I'd never go again... in a thunderstorm!"

Ever since, when I say, " never again," I add, "in a thunderstorm." Or maybe in Hawaii.

So what did I do?? you ask.

Well....most of you know I co-owned a decorative painting company for 10 or so years. That may sound a little more impressive than it was. I mean it IS impressive. We were very good. But the "company" was a company of two. What should I blogname my business partner? Hmm. When you've painted behind toilets together on a regular basis, you know a lot about another person. I think I'll just call her PartnerDarling.

PD and I painted many things. We have been in the rafters of many Little Rock churches, a few others farther afield, some at the Capitol, the old state house... And more powder rooms, dining rooms, nurseries, bedrooms and kitchens than you can shake a stick at. We have also painted floors. Some to look like slate, some to look like marble, oh you name it, PD and I did it.

And a few years back I declared I was DONE. Like a turkey. Finished. Bever again. No More Floors.

In a thunderstorm.

Because yesterday, in Hawaii, I painted 4 floors.

We have been the guests of Malcolm and Imogene these last 3 weeks. Mal and Mo are 90 years old. They are the Reason we ended up here, I think. I know our stay here would not have been the same without them. We saw them the first night at the sports bar ( previous post). They invited us up later for wine and cheese. I rode to church with them on Sunday. We had them to our place for dinner last week. They've told us stories. Like the one about sitting in church with Joan Baez in the 60's. And Mal shared his books with us. His first book was written in the 70's, Healing Is For Real. He tells stories of his early ministry. I found myself moved by the profound absence of ego in his tales. He was so far ahead of his time. An excerpt:

Another incident,...was the time the police called me to help them subdue one of my parishioners who had gone on a rampage in a local bar. The police knew him as ordinarily a law abiding citizen, and wanted to avoid using strong arm tactics to bring him under control. I wasn't enthusiastic about going into the bar for him. It seemed just a little bit like Daniel going into the lion's den, and I didn't feel as secure as Daniel is reported to have been. The man out of control was a big person and he had intimidated everyone in the bar, so like Dopey in Snow White and the Seven Dwarves, I was sort of pushed into the bar with the others right behind me- way behind me.

I really felt relieved when he reacted like a small boy being caught stealing the jam, as soon as he recognized my clerical collar. Just as peaceful as a lamb he walked with me to the police car and got in without an argument. Once underway he started to get unruly again, but all I had to do was speak his name and he'd say, "Sorry, Father," and calm down. Because he had caused some damage, the police felt they should keep him overnight, so they put him in a cell. As soon as they closed the door on him he began to scream in genuine terror, complaining that "they were after him." Later on I learned that he was reliving an experience from the war where he had been trapped in a shell-hole with two Japanese soldiers, both of whom he had to kill.

"Let me out of here-they're gonna get me. Oh, my God, let me out of here!"

I could see that this was no ordinary case of drunkenness, but something deeper and much more complex. This was a sick man, there was no doubt about that. I managed to get his attention, and again, when he saw me he was able to concentrate on what I was saying, even though he was still cringing against the wall. He was panting and the beads of perspiration covered his brow. It was a pitiful sight to behold. He spoke to me.

"Doesn't anyone understand?"

"Yes, there is someone who understands. Jesus understands."

"Can he help any?"

"Yes, through me he can give you his blessing."

"Will it help?"

"Yes, I am sure it will help."

I made the sign of the cross toward him and gave him the blessing "in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost." Then a most remarkable thing occurred. Standing against the wall he looked like he'd been shot. With a dazed look on his face his. Body went limp and he slid down the wall on to the bed and rolled over sound asleep. One of the policemen stood there with his mouth agape, completely dumbfounded.

"I never saw anything like this in my life before!"

Though I felt the same as he did, I never let on that this wasn't normal procedure in my book. Before leaving the station I told the officer that I felt that the man was sick and should be in a hospital rather than a jail cell. The following day he was taken to the VA hospital where he was treated, responding well to psychotherapy. Later on I learned from one of the doctors that he had told them the only one who believed he was sick was the young priest, and he appreciated that.

First published in 1972. PTSD, anyone?

Mo came into the picture a mere 25 years ago. She is an elegant, statuesque beauty who carries herself with abounding grace. She and I bonded as women immediately. And she loves chocolate.

Needless to say,PH and I are crazy about them.

So when Mal started sneaking up to the house in front of our cottage to touch up the painted floors, I intervened. He said he didn't want to disturb us, blah, blah, blah.

PH and I painted the floors. Did I mention that Mal is 90?

It only took a bit of an afternoon and it won't be in any magazines, but I might have gotten more pleasure out of painting those floors than I did out of all the many many floors that have gone before. Malcolm said as he was thanking us, "Sometimes you just know something is right."

Tomorrow I'm taking Mo some fudge sauce.

Never say never. You might miss out.

He's still got it!

Even looks a little like home.

Meanwhile, I joined the Kauai Marathon.

At least to mile 3!

This link should take you to an audio (they publish on web) of PH's sermon.Click here

Thomas Merton And I reflect on The Help

Last night I had a curious and moving dream about a "Black Mother." I was in a place (where? somewhere I had been as a child, but also there seems to be some connection with the valley over at Edelin's) and I realized I had come there for a reunion with a Negro foster mother whom I had loved in my childhood. Indeed,I owed, it seemed, my life to her love so that it was she really and not my natural mother, who had given me life. As if from her had come a new life and there she was. Her face was ugly and severe,and yet a great warmth came from her to me, and we embraced with great love (and I with much gratitude) and what I recognized was not her face but the warmth of her embrace and of her heart so to speak. We danced a little together, I and my Black Mother, and then I had to continue the journey I was on.
-From Dancing in the Waters of Life: The Journals of Thomas Merton

Much has been said and done concerning the book and movie, The Help. Some feel it is too much (fill in the blank), others too little (fill in the blank).I just know one thing. It is Real. I am not saying it is good writing, good acting, even true about civil rights. I am saying it is real. I can still feel and smell Ellen. Her big fat soft arms, cool skin, sweet lotion (with a little tobacco smell mixed in.) Not the feel or smell of my mother. Ellen was something different.

20/20 did a segment after the movie came out that showed the relationship between two middle-aged white women and their childhood maids. (Sorry. That is what we called Ellen, and to me it is a title of great honor. Housekeeper lacks any personal warmth or connection. I'm just sayin') I know 20/20 wants to tug at your heartstrings, but they uncovered, I think unwittingly a great truth. The relationship between those women and their maids was not anything like the one depicted between the currently young children and their nanny. Not the same animal.

I can't say exactly why, but the relationship treasured by so many in my generation and geography was sacred. Maybe it had something to do with crossing cultural bounds. Maybe economic ones. Maybe it was something akin to the story of a long ago slave..."You meant it for evil, but God meant it for good". There was so much bad and wrong going on in the 60's and 70's , racially speaking. But in my house, I was loved. By my family. And by my maid.

Peace be with you, Ellen. I'll see you when the roll is called up yonder.I look forward to being embraced in that most gracious and generous bosom.

We're on a boat!

Happy, happy, happy.

Notice the Cathedral Camp tshirt. I can't tell you how many people have commented on it. First of all PH asks them if they know the movie Sex, Lies and Videotapes. (Answer:no.when was that movie made? Um, 20 years ago? And how old might you be? 25 at best.) Then he quizzes them on the Joseph saga. I try not to let him get too far from my side....

These are my dolphins. I should have had my own camera, what can I say. But then again, I was in the moment. They glided alongside of us for several minutes. I think they were telling me how much they missed me. Pretty sure.

So here's to you Mrs. Robinson...That's what I would hum every time PH would ask me why I was taking another picture of cute young crew boys. I know. An even older movie reference but far more universal.

Hey, St. Michael's! Give up the kitchen renovation and buy a boat! It already HAS a kitchen!

Can't go through it....

Can't go over it....

Gotta go 'round it!
And we did. In style.

Our private beach

After driving down dirt roads for an hour, we came upon this. Our own private beach. It was a lovely place to spend the day.

Or the night.

A non-opposable thumb and anger management issues....

Or...how much can YOU learn about a person in under 12 seconds?? I think I win.
A little background. I love to play tennis. But not really I married into a tennis family. Well, I married the black sheep. He has the genes, but never really tried. And I have a minimum of hand-eye coordination. I had lessons my 9th grade summer from the maid of cotton. Didn't really stick. Since then, I have tried off and on, but only with family members. Post empty nest, PH and I have played a bit more. Well, we mostly just hit balls for about an hour. But he tells me I am a some better. Not a total embarrassment. But I don't even know how to keep score very well. All those ins and outs. And I have no idea where to go when those balls start coming.
So we get here with our 20 year old tennis racquets ( we usually take his octogenarian parents' castoffs), and there are tennis courts right behind our cottage- through the rainforest.AND they have round robin every other day. Show up and play. PH goes the first day which is totally unfair because I try to exercise all the time and he never does and here he is exercisingandmeetingpeopleandhavingfunandit'snotfair. So the next time he convinces me to go. I miss a lot of balls and i am very nervous, but it is kind of fun. And next time rolls around. It is midday, lots more sun, and I don't want the only other couple who showed last time to feel like they have to endure...you know. PH says he's calling me if I should come (in other words if it is other embarrassingly bad players). Phones don't work great here, so I miss his call. I decide to be bra e and go on over. My plan is to say I'd play if they needed me, otherwise I was going for a run.
When I get there, PH is playing with the good couple from the other day and another pretty good woman. Her husband?? is sitting on the bench. I sit down next to him. Hello. Hello. Well, long story short, by the time they've reorganized the game, he has told me he has anger management issues, more than three mistakes and he will..I dunno he didnt say just what he would do. And now he is my partner and he tells me he used to be left handed but look. That's where they had to surgically reattach my thumb. Did I mention that he was my partner??? I asked him if he got angry when his partner missed shots???? Well, he was a very nice guy and we lost but he didn't yell at me or himself very much. And his thumb stayed on.
But PH know none of this, and he'd been there all along. Amazing.
Today was the Grand Canyon of the Pacific according to Mark Twain. Truly beautiful, but no dolphin experiences. I do have some pictures to share of the goat hunters sign-in sheet.
And we had coconut shrimp at the shrimp station with papaya ginger tartar sauce. True to form, I had to go back to the ordering window and tell them that I didn't even like fried food but that was the best thing I'd had on this island. And by golly, I was gonna write trip advisor about it.
Parcha coladas on the porch. I like this!!!!

Pictures! We've got pictures!

PH did it! More tomorrow!

Sweet, Jesus, I am home.

Yesterday marked a turning point. First of all, all my big decisionsaree behind me. For those of you who know me well, particularly those who have traveled with me, you might guess what I mean. I have visited almost all of the places I researched,eaten at most of trip advisor's top recommendations, and now, finally, I have picked which of the almost identical boat tours to take. And I picked right. We toured the Napali Coast with Captain Andy on his brand spankin' new catamaran complete with full kitchen,2 bathrooms, charming ( and handsome) crew ready to refill your drink and...we did all of this with 40 of our new best friends. Within minutes the crew knew us all by name, and PH and I had found a cushy seat with a fun couple from Canada. I had briefly considered the raft tour that takes you into the caves, but PH put his foot down about the bathrooms. 30 seconds into the tour and I felt only sympathy for those poor refugees on life rafts bouncing through the surf. I gladly traded cave interiors for my luxury craft.
The Napali Coast is only visible by water, air (helicopter!) or foot. Two days of foot. Camp and treat your water foot. No bathrooms at all foot. Remember the opening scene of Indiana Jones where he is walking along a ridge in the mountains of Peru? Well, that's not Peru, it's Kauai, specifically the footpath along the Napali Coast.
So I settled in for our 6 hours on the high seas. Many were seasick, not me. Born to it. I felt more alive than ever. Covered in sunscreen, scarf and hat (still cute, but appropriately shielded) I was in heaven. And then the boat slowed. Or captain had spotted bottle nose dolphins. Now I have to say, I have seen dolphins before. Lots of times. And I do love seeing them. We are related. But I was unprepared for the dolphin effect. As the mamas and their babies glided right beside me, tears ran down my cheeks. And they kept on.PH found me a moment later and rolled his eyes. But he knew why. I used to be a mermaid. Some of you may not know that, but it is well known in the family lore. I was a mermaid, PH was a pirate, he fell off his ship, I saved him and the rest is history. I used to be a mermaid, and I will always be a mama. All of a sudden I was home. And I hardly knew I had been away. Meanwhile, I think my mermaid tail is growing back.
This morning we cleaned house. I hate to clean house. But with island music playing, doing laundry in the outdoor laundry room, with breezes and salt sea air, wearing a bathing suit and no shoes.....I felt deeply and completely domestic. Like goddess domestic. A friend said it sounded like I was in Naples channeling Sophia Loren. Yeah, maybe a bit of that, too.
So...mermaids, goddesses,dolphins....
I'm just sayin'....
Gonna go drink a MaiTai.

A day with no troubles

Today was lovely. I know. They all are. I'm in Hawaii. No complaints. But I've sort of been a blank slate since I've been here. Today I felt like my brain woke up a little bit. We started with a pre sunrise walk across shipwreck beach, up a trail that felt like Africa to me- I was looking for the lion king somewhere. We came out on these big cliffs over the water. Stay away from the edges! Brittle lava stuff! You know I can't make the pictures work right now, but the sunrises are so amazing they look fake. Sort of like whatshisname who paints on PBS.
We returned and made a big bacon and egg(used our top dollar local eggs), local whole wheat bread with guava jelly. Didn't need to eat anymore today.
Next we trudged to the beach. It is pretty far and I don't travel light.
We met th nicest couple sitting near us at the beach. Tonight over maitais at our sports bar we wondered together what was so refreshing about them. My first thought was kind. Next was open. I think they were just the kind of people who are comfortable enough with themselves to make others comfortable. I hope i can be like that. And, of course, in that small world thing we all do, even though she was California born and bred and he was from Iran, it turned out that he spent time at U of A and was at Memphis state when PH was. Met Elvis, worked with Rick Dees. Amazing. On the other side of us was Conrad, an 11 month old who loved sand, water, and avocados.
Meanwhile, sea turtles were visiting us shoreside, sunning themselves. We goggled ( haven't rented snorkel gear yet, but goggles worked great. ) and saw some truly beautiful fish.
Now I am blogging and PH is watching the kauai visitor channel???
Tomorrow we go down the Napali coast in a catamaran. I'll report.
A quote for the day apropos of nothing.
1. Brother! He's more of a dad than a brother. And dad- well he's like the handyman.

Maybe I'll explain that one some time but right now I just dont want to forget it.

Mistakes were made

Just two things- I know there are a gazillion typos in the last couple of posts. Having trouble with editing. And sometimes this thing thinks it knows better than I do what want to say. The very idea.
And I know I put up 3 at once.sorry. Have to fight PH for iPad time these days.
AND pictures. Working on it.

Paradise Found

We have been here in Hawaii for 3 days now.
Day one: get off the plane, call our questionable car rental guy ( who is at the police station and thinks we are coming the next day), pull out the trusty iPad and see if we need to make some different arrangements, questionable guy shows up and is really a nice guy who rents some questionable cars. No, it is a fine car, just one that would have been retired some time back by the ordinary rental folk.
Anyway...
Head to Poipu, stopping for a tasty lunch of fish sandwiches, a quick grocery and wine purchase, and...there we are. Our cottage is a bit cabin-y.built probably in the 20's for the workers. So delightful. It makes me think of those old beach homes up on the east coast. The ones that I've never been to.
Ed calls the 90 yr old priest (Mal) whose cottage this is. They've left us some apple bananas, a smaller version than we have at home. We check out our beach and settle in. On Mal's suggestion we stroll down to the sports bar at the end of our lane. Sports bar you say???? Me, too. I was none too thrilled but hungry. We walk in....lots of tvs but no sound. Yes!!! Bob marley is playing. Even better. And at the corner table sit Mal ( a dead ringer for the russ we all know and love at St M) and Mo, his 90 yr old wife. We had never met them, but knew right away who they were. We introduced ourselves, joined them, ordered seared ahi tacos and a Mai ti. It was delightful.
Day 2:
Started with anearly early morning wall to a site supposedly good for sunrise. PH refused to get back in the car, so we walked. Knew to turn on a street that began with A. We did but it was the bypass.wrong street beginning with A. Most streets around here the speed limit is 25 at best. It was 45. Oh well it was a nice walk. But I was right. We needed to drive. Lunch back at the sports bar..still not prepared to cook, need to figure out our shopping options a bit. Beach time, then we hit the farmer's market. We got some nice vegetables, still no fruit. Where is all this great tropical fruit??? I want to do my part for the local foods , but I'm having difficulty finding it. We ask the one farmer girl I'd talked to most where we might find good cheese. She directs us to the fancy schmancy whole foods type store. We do buy some cheese. And I buy some very expensive fish. I now know where to go (Koloa fish market) but for one night, I went with local food ,but local with all my mainland comforts surrounding it. And it was delicious! Opa I think. Cooked with some butter garlic and ginger.
Day 3 we had a little breakfast and headed down the road IN THE CAR to the early morning beach. Once we turned on the dirt road with potholes that could hold our potholes inside of themselves, we drove about two miles. And there it was. Paradise. A curve of sandy beach, big volcanic or whatever you call em cliffs, pine??? Trees along the edge, and No One!! We walked, found Sawyer's hut ( Lost fans??) had a swim, then hiked across treacherous pointy lava things to an even more deserted beach. I could soo be the Swiss family Robinson. Came back home, showered, lunch, naps. Then PH got ready to go play tennis. He had left his shoes at the beach. And I haven't even told you about the saga of getting some decent water shoes for him. It is a little bit of a touchy subject. Maybe not blog material. We'll see. So now he is wearing MY shoes. Yes little petite PH can wear my tennis shoes. No comments.
Oh, yeah. Forgot to say we went to the fancy scmancy farmer's market yesterday. I am all for supporting local farmers.... I paid $8 for local eggs-- but the $12 pineapple did me in.I bought one at the grocery. For$4. But I do hope to go to dinner one night at a farm to table restaurant. Sounds fabulous.
Meanwhile...I'll let you know if PH wins. My shoes are mighty lucky.

Gee, it's great...

After stayin out late!! Danced to that one with FSIL after a yummy Italian dinner hosted by their wonderful friends at a Berkeley eatery two nights ago. Delicious tacos in Mission District, xox chocolates, Bi-Rite ice cream, pastries from Tatine, salmon steaks with ginger miso sauce cooked by the lovely couple themselves, veggies harvested from the backyard. We are nearing the end of a lovely California visit with our new family members. This afternoon we had a lively affair in the Berkeley backyard of FSIL's grandparents. We met cousins, friends, relations of all shapes and sizes. It was fun. And so nice to see the branches of your family tree dividing and spreading. Of course, on the one hand, it seems that all families are the same, the characters just wear different Tshirts. Some of the gathering practices were very reminiscent of my own family patterns. But on the other hand, I met people who have called California home all of their lives. It's a different world out here! And BrideGirl and her fella are just great! Seeing them in their world makes me very happy. I met so many people whose names I've heard ....now they have faces and personalities.
I do have pictures but I can't download them on this machine. I told PH I needed an iPhone.
Hawaii on Monday!!!!

2 days and counting

Our plane leaves in 40 hours. I think. Put that on my list of things I need to check. I think of most of those things between 2 and 4 AM.
But it will all be wonderful. Can't wait to celebrate with Bride Girl  and Future Son-In-Law. We arrive in sunny and MILD California mid-day on Tuesday. BG and FSIL will both work most of the week, but I plan to be fed by those gourmet chefs at least a couple of times! Their facebook pictures have had me jealous for quite awhile. BBG fed us sumptuosly last weekend, Farmer Boy and DIL had dinner waiting when we arrived home, now the pressure is on! This is why I had children!!

Ed shares a Dubose quote

We ourselves, like our Lord, are saved only by love; ... We are saved by the love of God, but not by the love of God with which we are loved, but with which we love. 
                                                       - W P DuBose

Don't answer, just think about it!
                                    -  Noleta Nethercott in Sordid Lives

PH at rest

A few pictures. I'm still learning...

He takes it all in stride.

My Sewanee office

We found him!

Mr Dubose