At Day's End

Clouds come floating into my life,
no longer to carry rain or to usher storm,
but to add color to my sunset sky.

Rabindranath Tagore

In Between Downpours

The blustery wet weather has made a pit stop over the Portland area. In between rain showers, Kaden and I jaunted into the back forty to appraise the situation.

The cherry tree is in absolutely gorgeous bloom; it appears as though the nimbly limbs have marshmallows stuck to them. On closer inspection, delicate white blooms cluster and bestow upon the passer-byer a sweet scent.


Our cold weather crop has popped! From the bungalow, green shoots can be seen. However, our crop has caught the eye of a hungry slew of slugs or a noshing rabbit. It could be both. We have implemented a few home remedies to rid ourselves of the nuisances; we shall see how they work.

The Indistinguishables

Tonight I completed Elizabeth Gilbert's new book, Committed: A Skeptic Makes Peace With Marriage; sequel to Eat, Pray, Love. As with the majority of books I read, I "dog ear" the lower corners for those pages I want to return to for reflection. One page in particular has brought me back repeatedly; page 196.

The first paragraph of the page reads:

The poet Jack Gilbert wrote that marriage is what happens "between the memorable." He said that we often look back on our marriages years later, perhaps after one spouse has died, and all we can recall are "the vacations, and the emergencies"--the high points and low points. The rest of it blends into a blurry sort of daily sameness. But it is that very blurred sameness, the poet argues, that comprises marriage. Marriage is those two thousand indistinguishable conversations, chatted over two thousand indistinguishable breakfasts, where intimacy turns like a slow wheel. How do you measure the worth of becoming that familiar to somebody--so utterly well known and so thoroughly ever present that you become an almost invisible necessity, like air?

My reflection and rereading of the paragraph is just for the sheer fact that it resonates within me. I love the indistinguishables of my marriage--deciding dinner, folding laundry, smart aleck comments to each other, the stories shared while we lie in bed and the out-of-the-normal-routine moments such as getting breakfast at The Blue Pig Cafe.

Nestled in a cozy corner, we laughed, voiced our disgust at a weird morning and ate one fabulous breakfast. Another breakfast. Another day filled with little things that will blur into the tapestry of our marriage tale.

It makes my soul smile and churns a huge dose of gratitude within me.

As for the entirety of the book, I am well pleased with Gilbert's sequel. Her thorough and due diligence research regarding marriage is remarkable, interspersed within the pages is her personal tale of coming to grips with another marriage. She was quite fair towards women and men; not toting the macho feminism badge I feared. I learned many new facts, gathered new quotes and dog eared quite a few pages.

A Tale of Two Shirts

Today we received two packages.

The first from Zach's sister, Abby, which contained my birthday gift and a treat for her 'Bubs'--a UK2K tshirt.

Two hours later, Zach retrieved the mail from the mailbox. It contained a package from his parents. The contents--a UK mousepad and a UK2K tshirt.

We laughed so hard.

Per Abby's request, Zach is sending one back so she can replace it with a UK: Refuse to Lose shirt. She also gave her mom a piece of her mind since she had told them she had bought the shirt for Zach.

Explosion

One day the bare branches held wee green buds; the next an explosion of fluffy white petals. Nature never ceases to amaze me.

The Peace of Wild Things

When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what may life and my children’s lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.

I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.

And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.


--Wendell Berry, Openings: The Peace of Wild Things

Gardening

The transition back into Portland has been pleasant since warmer temperatures and sunny skies settled themselves over the Northwest. With fantastic conditions and the need to break in Kaden's new mud boots, we spent the afternoon and early evening working in the back forty planting broccoli, flowers, a blueberry and marionberry bush, mixing manure into the beds and pruning the blueberries and raspberries.

Our hands were proof that it was a dirty and productive day.

Last Day in Paradise

Our last day in Oahu was a blustery yet warm day.

We spent our morning and early afternoon lounging on the Waimea Bay beach. Conditions were rough and the lifeguards spent every twenty minutes reminding us that unless we were experienced swimmers wearing fins, our feet were not to leave the shore. We heeded their warning and watched the spectacle before us--large waves being ridden by many surfers.




Near our departure time the message from the bullhorn was not to stay out of the water but to inform that a massive rainstorm was headed our way. With sad faces and a melancholic attitude, we packed our beach ware for the last time.

After showers and a farewell to our gracious hosts, we found ourselves airport bound for a red eye flight bound for the mainland.

Restaurant Review

Cholo's Mexican: Found behind the street facade of the North Shore main street, we enjoyed the Mexican fare.

Matsumotos: With a few minutes to spare due to the rainstorm, we made a pit stop for the legendary shaved ice cones. Great priced and really good.

Byron's: Continually we heard about Byron's by the airport. As our last meal, we stopped at the joint. It was by far the best food we had eaten on the island; the price amazingly cheap. If we return, we will eat there again.

Hawaiian Highlights

Due to our bustling plans for the day, we woke as the sun began to glimmer upon the palm fronds.

Pearl Harbor

Thanks to insider information, we reached the gates of Pearl Harbor early and headed straight for the information desk to receive two tickets for the memorial. Even with our early arrival, our tickets were for 10:40am.

Every conversation I have ever had concerning Pearl Harbor, someone commented that it is the most serene monument; very contemplative. During our visit those conversations appeared to be mockery since a new visitor center was being constructed. With background noises of beeps, concrete crashes and bulldozer rumbles, Zach and I strolled through the various memorial facets. We watched the documentary. We read the hundreds of informational signs.

Our time on the memorial was informational yet unsettling. It is weird to stand above the tomb of hundreds.

It was even more unsettling to see the ship; I did not realize that the upper parts stood above the water and the ship was so visible beneath the ripples.

As with any historical visit, we walked away with a deeper appreciation for the significance of Pearl Harbor.

Diamond Head Hike

The signs gave an impending doom to the hardship of the .8 mile hike to the Diamond Head lookout tower. The notifications make it sound as though we were beginning a trek into the Sahara Desert. We rolled our eyes and trekked upwards.

The 'hardest' portion was the stairs.

The views were majestic; the breezes refreshing. Our picture at the top, not so good.


License Plate Bingo

The stakes for license plate bingo are high in Hawaii--it is an all or nothing situation. Success was ours today--we spotted a Tennessee plate.

Beach

After a strenuous hike, a bit of history and a Hawaiian box lunch we plopped ourselves onto another beach. Zach's beach pastime was devouring an entire bag of jellybeans.


Evening Activities

Zach's personal quest for the trip was to discover a local coffee shop besides Starbucks. On our way to dinner we passed Coffee Talk, a local coffee stop. After a pit stop for dinner and a detour for malasadas, we ended our evening with java in one hand and a book in the other. It was comforting and entertaining since the National Hawaiian Balloon Animal Association was having their monthly meeting. From my vantage point I spotted a bike, shamrock, bouncing Tigger, sword, unicorn hat and a creation of unknown origin.



Restaurant Review:

Diamond Head Grill: Our initial stop, The Rainbow Grill, was closed for electrical maintenance. After friendly banter with the owners they sent us to this location. Small portions for the price, and the mac/potato salad was too creamy. It gave us a taste for the 'local' flavor, but we would not choose to return.

Leonard's Bakery: A must do stop for the exquisite malasadas. Words cannot express their savoriness. We fell in love.

Olive Tree: A Greek hole-in-the-wall joint; cash only. The food platters were sufficient size and flavorful.

Sabbath: Hawaiian Style

With authority and first hand experience, I state that the hardest decision in paradise is which beach to perch oneself upon for the day. One hundred and twelve linear miles of beach surround the island of Oahu; the options are overwhelming yet provide such a sense of delight. The delight is that there is absolutely no excuse for one not to lie on the beach.

Day two, we settled ourselves upon the fine, beige sands of Ala Moana.

Hawaiian breezes fluttered the edges of our beach towels. Stand up paddlers worked their way across the bay. Sun rays warmed our chilled Northwest cores and turned our pale skin into a toasty peach color. We read. We laughed. We reveled in the beauty of our surroundings. We rejoiced in the goodness of a such a venture. Hours passed quickly.

The three o'clock hour struck; we meandered our way to the Honolulu Festival parade route.


The parade was a three hour venture. Who knew so many hula troops and dragon impersonators resided on such a tiny island.

The picture below is an anomaly; the majority of hula girls were well above the age of fifty. Zach's witty observation was that hula-ing was not as sexy as frequently portrayed. I responded that when the 88 year old started her hula career sixty years ago, she was probably a beauty in her own right.

We received a few chuckles and weird looks from our parade neighbors.


The sun set and the festivities continued. Under the streetlights the fire breathing dragon brought the festivities to an end.

We ended our second evening meandering along the Waikiki tourist trap, pleased with our continued festival findings.

Restaurant Review:

Siam Palace: Located one street off the Waikiki main drag, on the second floor of a building. The food was excellent, but was shocked that rice did not come with the curries--it was an extra dollar.

Hawaii Beard Papas: Found along the same road as the Thai restaurant, this hole in the wall bakery caught our attention with the posted signs highlighting their mochi selection. Zach stuck with his initial love reaction for mochi, while I observed their specialty in cream puffs and splurged on a strawberry one. Excellent detour.

Hawaii 101

Our adventurous spirit kept propelling us forward; allowing only the merest of minutes to relish each moment, place or thing. Mid island to north, east to west, we zoomed to and fro across paradise.

We discovered new roads. We laughed at the absurdity and vowel heavy names. We made fun of ourselves for trying to pronounce such names. We looked at itty bitty pineapples. We ate pineapple ice cream. We ate shrimp at a shrimp farm. Fruit stands. Mysterious alcoves. Ruins. Surfboards. Different beaches; four which I ran and frolicked upon. Sushi at a hole in the wall local joint. How did we know? The wait was 45 minutes and when the staff learned we were non-local they were amazed, shocked and speechless. We perused the Valley of the Temples. We watched the sunset. We fell into bed. Wind swept. Sun soaked. Content.

Food review:

Romy’s Shrimp Shack: On the banks of a shrimp pond, this red hut was a bustling site. The wait for food was not too bad; the food good. However, we have learned the true shack to visit is Giovanni’s; it is the original.

Kuri Kuri Sushi: Local, hole in the wall, conveyor style sushi. It is the Sushiland of Hawaii.

Morning Musings

The sounds of island life float through our bedroom window. The next door neighbor is making a call to a friend. Chirping birds. A light breeze ruffling the leaves of exotic plants. Kristina's mother, Marie, watching something on their TV.

Our morning has been lackadaisical to say the least. Our internal clocks woke us at 7:30am, just in time for the UK basketball game. Zach cheered on the Cats while Marie and I made a morning Starbucks run and breakfast. We chatted. We laughed. I took a tour of the garden.

Daylight illuminates our surroundings and delights us. The downside to a 10:30pm flight touchdown is that the inky blackness of the night masked the surroundings and left us wondering what the dark patches of landscape actually looked like.

Without sarcasm I say that vacation is hard. This is the first trip we have taken that didn't involve a different language, a regimented schedule, family or the need to cram. As I took my shower I had to put my overdrive-need-to-go-now mentality into check and acknowledge that this trip goes against our norm.

The island is small. No need for 3,000 miles in a weekend.

The sunshine is abundant. No need to freak and try to glean the few beams that actually permeate the cloud cover.

We have a car. No need to decipher bus schedules.

The need is to discover, be adventuresome and enjoy the moment.

A necessity is a beach in time for our siestas.

The Delights of Birthdays

March has been a spectacular month and the festivities of my birthday week have been stellar. However, the days have flown quickly and the opportunities to pen my thoughts on turning 29 have been fleeting. Even now, it is the wee hours of the morning and the bed beckons my weary body, but the memories of joyous occasions and the thrill of a Hawaiian vacation within hours spur me forward.

This post is short, but serves as a reminder that delights of colorful birthday cakes to much needed pedicures to deep stomach laughs with friends to hoity toity cupcake shops is why I love life and celebrate another year vivaciously.

My Mythical Birthday Wish List

A few weeks ago I had a conversation with a few friends about the items that entice and delight, but I would never buy for myself--big or small, random, practical, or just weird. On my birthday eve, I have decided to jot down a list titled My Mythical Birthday Wish List.

• Aquabeat: I discovered a woman using this headset in the pool lane next to me as we were vigorously knocking out laps. She raved about it; I oohed and aahed. I would never get out of the pool if I had one of these.

• Convertible ride: I have never ridden in a convertible; I think I would like it.

• One shoulder dress: I would love to have an occasion to don a dress such as the one below.

• Beach side massage: The advertisements of grand resorts always show a woman receiving a massage under a tiki hut beside aquamarine waters. I wonder what it would be like to receive a massage in the open, with the ocean breezes caressing my back.
• Outdoor yoga session: I would love to gather a few friends and do a yoga session in the back forty, in the mountains or on the beach.
• Paid off Student Loans: No explanation needed.
  
• Cooking class: The intrigue of learning a new culinary skill entice this mythical wish.
• Garden art: The glass mushroom. The metal sundial. The garden gnome. Fun, witty and colorful.
• Around the world trip: No explanation needed.

I once saw a t-shirt that declared: Dreams are Free! Here is to dreaming on the eve of my twenty ninth year.

Hodge Podge Hiking

Our holy grail of hiking was stranded in a foreign car. We should have known better than to say, "Oh, forget the book, we will just flit through the Gorge and hike whatever strikes our fancy."

It began with a detour on I-84 west instead of east.

Larch Mountain--closed for snow. It was 65 degrees and sunny.

Bridal Veil Falls--2/3 mile loop; a tad short for our taste. However, we were exquisitely surprised by her beauty.

Angel's Rest--the populous of Portland transplanted their vehicles to the trail head parking.

I mentioned that every time I drive to Hood River a brown historical sign labeled Starvation Creek Trail piques my interest. We hit 84 east with a destination.

Starvation Creek Trail is .2 miles, punctuated with a grand waterfall.

Lindsay flung her hands into the air and said, "Well, isn't this just hysterical!?"

Near the trail was a sign for Mt. Defiance, noted as one of the hardest hikes in the Gorge. We shook our head and lamented that we didn't have time for such an endeavor, however the waterfall a mile away was doable.

We ended up on the wrong trail. A mile or two into an extenuating steep hike, we agreed that we had begun the Mt. Defiance trail; our calves were squealing with panic. We vowed to find a scenic lookout and bask in our unforeseen accomplishment before painstakingly heading down the trail.

We found our lookout and giggled at our hodge podge hiking day.

Sated with contentment and sunshine, we sang at the top of our lungs the entire way back to Portland.

Farewell, Little Neon

She zoomed into my life May 1999; she puttered, smoked and gurgled her way out of my life Friday, March 5, 2010.

For years she withstood the horrendous Western Kentucky Highway potholes, Kentucky gravel back roads as well as a few spins a pasture or two.

She withstood college prank maimings--purple and orange painted windows, gummy bears stuck on the outside, and even an onion in the air vents.

The driver seat is permanently imprinted with my butt shape.

Her paint had long deteriorated; the front Dodge symbol lost on some wild adventure.

The marking of a Murray State alum crinkled and badly baked under the intense stare of the sun.

She fit perfectly in a U-Haul to trek across the Oregon Trail.

She was ferocious, weird, unyielding and determined to last forever. Unfortunately our bank account couldn't work with her last fit--blown head gasket.

Friday night I sat for the last time in a fond friend--feeling her worn steering wheel, smelling her odd scent and thanking her for eleven years of faithful service.

She will be missed.

Scenes from the Back Forty

The back forty is waking from her slumber. Over the past week, Kaden and I have been planting, trimming, digging, scheming and reveling in the sunshine. Oh, spring!