Thursday, October 8, 2015

The theory of a Perfect 10, as told by a blue eyed Asian in a Kinky Kimono

"Well obviously he wasn't a perfect 10," starts the lesson taught by a truly not-blue-eyed Asian friend over a dangerously delicious champagne cocktail called the Kinky Kimono, which in all its kinkiness has led me into some, shall we say, epic evenings to which we will not discuss neither now nor later. My friend was attempting to make me feel better, less rejected, as I had just recounted the story of the most recent absolutely perfect-for-me guy that followed suit with those before him and decided that talking to me after I departed for my "home" city was far too much effort to be put forth. And he was, by all my standards, perfect. Everything about this boy was what I am looking for and more. He was the perfect mixture of what my parents are looking for (which let's be honest, doesn't come too terribly much into play when I'm choosing who to give my attention to) and what I'm looking for. I mean, a high school football coach who speaks three languages, has a love for other cultures and tacos, and has an open mind about people and their beliefs/ lifestyles. A person who works hard to be able to do the job that brings them joy. Not just the job that pays the bills. And maybe he doesn't like stinky cheese, but at least he's open to trying it. And he made me laugh, hard, like cheeks aching and dying to relaxing hard. He really was perfect. Enter the voice of my friend and his theory of this illusive 10. "If your perfect 10 would make the effort to talk to you even though you're not close in distance, then, I'm sorry, but he wasn't a 10."... Damnit... Of course this then leads me to think perhaps I wasn't his perfect 10 and that's why he let the opportunity go. So what's wrong with me? Why am I not the right fit? Why is it not my chance to meet my 10 and live happily ever after. And then the thoughts of what if... What if I've let go of my 10 without realizing and that 10 is the only 10 that I will ever be allowed...but id we are to stick strictly to this perfect 10 theory, then there hasn't been a 10 yet. Everyone has let me down, disappointed me in one fashion or another (and boys please doesn't take offense to this as many of you that I seriously dated, it was before I could even begin to know what my perfect 10 should consist of. We've all grown since then, we can all agree on that). This whole 10 business is rather taxing. Rather depressing. Rather frustrating... However, Dear Mister try-lingual, adorable, taco-loving, football coach- if you read this, I still have hope. 

Sunday, October 4, 2015

A plan from the buzzed chef

I am the girl who likes to get drunk and cook dinner. I am the girl who regrets only when she's intoxicated. I am the girl who won't leave her kitchen dirty... no matter how much wine has been consumed. I both love and hate to plan...for anything. I want nothing more than to lay in my bed all day and read, but I won't allow myself to be so lazy. I have issues. I want someone, anyone, to spend time with me while I cook, and drink, and clean. I need someone to hug me. A for real hug, a meaningful hug. I need someone to care. But it can't just be anyone, it has to be someone I want to care for me. Someone I care about too. I'm tired of waiting. I'm tired of praying. I'm tired of hoping... I'm just plain, tired. I'm almost 30...30! And any guy I meet just drops me, looks at me as if I'll only be in their lives for a solid 48 hours and where I have hope they have empty feelings. Time and time again I fall, I fall and fall hard and then fall back to the place that is so dark and so remorse and so much in the past that is kills me. Nothing is going to change the choices I've made, and when i'm not sad, I can be okay with that. But it's those moments of rejection that bring me back so forcefully to a place that makes me think I just didn't try hard enough. Sane me knows there's no truth behind that at all. Sane me knows that I did everything and that for some reason unbeknownst to me it was not part of the Plan. I hate the plan, I hate and I love the plan. The plan gives me hope, and the plan also kills my dreams...is the plan just a way to excuse the bad things in life? A way to make me feel better when things don't go as I hoped? This blows. And I shouldn't drink alone anymore. Time for bed.

Friday, March 1, 2013

Guten Morgen!!!

Frankfurt Germany was a difficult place for me to love. I have never felt so far out of my comfort zone. It was weird to hear people speaking and not even be able to catch a word here or there. Now to be fiat I didn't get much time away from the program and there was no pre or post extension journey this time as I was entertaining some pretty important company back at home. Also my first impression of real German food came from the event center's cafeteria. It was an awful looking piece of meat that had a very distinct shimmer of green to its color and was served with gravy covered veggies and iceberg lettuce and NO dessert. They were hard-fetched to win me over after this.

The only true German experience came from the night before we left at the magical place where it's Christmas every day, the Christmas market. The market was biggest at the city center where it was surrounded by the cute gingerbread looking houses of the town's square. In the middle was a giant carousel who's yellow lights and detailed animals would trip you out a little after too many gluwiens. The side of the market boasted a huge Christmas tree next to a large manger scene. The booths were decorated to match the theme and sold just about anything you could imagine. There were booths of wood carvings, wax creations, Christmas ornaments, paintings, bread booths, bars, popcorn, Wiener schnitzel, and the best most amazing booth of them all was the candy booth. So many gummies in so many flavors with candy ropes and dried fruits. It was a booth so long that you could see from one side to the other. It was beautiful.

Tuesday, July 17, 2012

New York

New York was an epic trip... yea I'd say epic. I accomplished quite a bit in the short two and a half weeks I was there, and working for most of it. The city of New York won me over, whereas before I didn't care for it much. The first time I went I was 19 and on a school trip. I did all the touristy things and sat in my hotel room most of the nights because I was too much of a good kid, and terrified of being caught, to try to sneak into any clubs. Well now that I'm fully legal and much more outgoing (read- willing to do things alone) New York was everything that everyone always says it should be. And believe me, New York doesn't sleep, and neither did I!

*Living my parade dream, cold- I pre-extended on the trip and ended up being in NYC for THE Macy's day parade. My first night there I went to see the Radio City Rockettes and then met up for some salsa dancing with two of my co-workers (whom I love dearly). The next morning I got up bright and early, stopped at Starbucks for a hot coffee, and found a spot right up front where the parade route would be turning so I could see everything. A whole hour after the parade stepped off I saw my first float. It was really awesome to see everything I'd always seen on TV as a kid...until I couldn't feel my arms, nose, or legs. The only thing I could feel was the insane urge to pee, and you've guessed it, no public restrooms w/o a buy-in or a 10 min wait. I figured if I was going to give up my spot to the masses pushing in behind me and have ot wait for 10 minutes to go to the bathroom then I was just going to go back to the hotel. That afternoon I wonderered around a bit and then met up with my friend Kev from work. I spent an amazing Thanksgiving with his family and his family friends out in Long Island. I had the best time, felt like one of the family, and even got to read part of the prayer (in Spanish) at dinner. This was probably the best part of my entire trip, even though I'm pretty sure it resulted in one of my worst hangovers of all time... I blame the Dominican liquor. :-p

*Lady in pancho, was she cold too?- When I was in Italy working I once saw a beautiful lady in a pancho. Since then I was certain that I too needed a pancho to wear with tights and boots. I found the perfect pancho right before going to NYC and I wore it the day of the parade, and I froze my arse off. I couldn't help but wonder if that beautiful Italian woman was cold in her pancho too.

*Fell in love w/ CP heart beat like i was in love- The first moment of truely falling in love with the city was when I was on the subway up to Central Park. As I got closer my heart started to beat faster, almost to a flutter...what I would imagine one feels like when they're about to see someone they love. I got out of the subway and was holding my breath without realizing it (not because it smelled or anything, I was excited to run in the park, geez!). I ran that day for the first time in a long time with full strength in my knee for a full 30+minutes and I soaked up every minute of it, most of the time listening to "Every teardrop is a Waterfall." Running around the scene I'd seen so many times in so many TV shows and films (running where Charlotte ran in Sex and the City!) and seeing the city as the backdrop...best run, best yoga stretch session... I think I was there for two hours falling more in love with the city with every minute, every breath.

*Poetry- What good is NYC without a good bum story, right? Well I managed to go on a date while I was there. On this date the guy took me to look at the Christmas tree at Rockefellar Center, but we missed the tree actually being lit by about 5 minutes, fail. Then he tried to kiss me but just then a bum came up and started to recite poetry...not real poetry, his own poetry. I don't even remember what he said, I was too busy laughing. This date was a bit of a fail, but it was too good of a story not to share.

*Tiesto everything I ever needed- I can not even begin to explain to you the wonderfulness of the night of the Tiesto concert. Ah-mazing. I don't care how much it cost me (the ticket and the replacement of my brand new iPhone that either got stolen or fell out of my purse). The massive amount of people and dancing with my friend, everyone just bumping up and down to the bass pounding, lights flashing, fog rolling... if I could do that once a week for the rest of my life, I would be one ridiculously happy girl.

*Not alone, independent - My sister coined this phrase for me while I was in NYC. I had a bit of a breakdown because the two co-workers I was with had significant others they were spending time with and I was consistantly running into that "Just one?" look from people at restaurants, bars, and theaters. Sarah had to remind me that being alone isn't a bad thing if you look at it as being independent... sometimes that logic will suffice, sometimes I still feel pretty alone instead.

*hit on in gym clothes- A bit of a mood booster for the trip. I was working out in the gym, just got done with a run and was stretching out and I got a job offer from a guy who hires for Donald Trump. He said he mainly hires Ex Miss USA pagent winners for his sales people, but he thought I had a lot of potential and he knew that wiht my personality I would fit right in with his sales team. It felt pretty good to be considered as good as USA pagent girls while I was all sweaty and nasty at the gym. Too bad this guy was not in my age range at all, but I kept his card, just in case I get bored with my job before my looks go downhill. ;)

*drunk russian, libra? Too smart, dangerous bad person!- I managed to try a couple of unique bars while I was there. One of them being a Swing bar. I went alone, excuse me, independently. I was sitting at the bar and this big Russian started to hit on me. Then he asked me my sign and I told him I was a libra. In his drunken slurry accent he told me that libra's were too smart and that I was a very dangerous person, not to be trusted. Then he told everyone around me. Luckily the doorman came to my rescue, pretending to be my boyfriend and scared the drunken Russian away. Apparently, I'm dangerously smart!

*creepy window displays, Macy's kid crying and saks manqs- You always hear about the window displays in NYC at Christmas time, especially the ones at Macy's, and if you're  alocal you steer clear of the area arond this time like it's the black plague. However, I knew what I was getting into with the crowds of people and I didn't feel right leaving NY without seeing it. So I went, and I have to tell you, those manequins were some of the scariest and creepiest things I have ever seen, and they moved. I saw one little kid take a look and start bawling. I don't blame him. I'm sure those things haunted my dreams that night. Ewwww.

*mustard on table was always grey poupon- Instead of being ketchup and regular mustard on the tables it was always ketchup and Grey Poupon...which I didn't mind, just thought it was interesting.

Delicious places I ate - Buddakan, we walked right in a got a table at one of the busiest places in the district. Benefit of being two beautiful girls. :) Basera, my first Indian food outing. Wine:30. La Flaca, where I met the bartending/owner who took me to see The Nutcracker ballet. Pizza Famiglia, Serendipity (not the frozen hot chocolate, but the fro yo, and I met my roommate's cousin who works there!)

Shows I saw - The Nutcracker at the NYC Ballet, The Nutcracker on the lower Eastside (I actually like this one better, way more interesting), Lysistrada Jones, Radio City Rockettes, Heard Usher practicing from the Rockefeller Ice Rink but couldn't see him past the swarm of teenage girls trying to see that little Justin kid (sorry Jess, I know you love him, but he's like 12).

Wow, that's quite a bit for just two weeks. Maybe that's why it's been one of my favorite trips so far.

Scotland

So because I, sadly, can not seem to keep this up to date in the detailed fashion that I really want to, I've decided to just post my short notes and not really tie them together with stories and in between details. Sort of a speed-reading, if you will, of the cool places I've been and some of the oddities I've pondered along the way.

Train station feeling is the same as the airport only better, more nostalgic, SO Harry Potter! - Boarding the Royal Scotsman at the train station in Edinburgh gave me that same excitement of the unknown that I get from airports, you can go anywhere, do anything, the world is your playground. This must've been how people felt in the days when trains were the norm. Surrounded by the Scottish people and not to mention the tall bagpiper, complete with kilt, I felt like running straight into the wall between platform 9 and 10.

Scottish people wear "cold" well. Lots of cute boots.- I guess once you adapt to your surroundings you can be cute in any weather, no parka required.

I can see why they drink Whisky, so cold! Odd that cold isn't putting me in a bad mood. I've been enjoying it as a part of Scotland, maybe because it's what I expected? - I came to Scotland prepared for being cold and miserable, but I wasn't miserable, just cold. And lucky for me, it was abnormally warm when I was there, I think it got into the 50's the day I hiked Arthur's Seat to the song "Without you" playing over and over as I climbed the beautiful green mountian-esque hillside, which was my favorite part of the trip (next to the Haunted tour of Edinburgh at night that took us through the vaults under the city, oh and finding William Wallace. That was pretty rocking too... man, Scotland was great!).

Continuously try to drive the Taxi.- The passenger is on the opposite side of the vehicle than I'm used to. I was constantly trying to get into the driver's side of the car. It gave everyone a good laugh each time I did though. :)

Looking both ways when crossing the street. - I could never figure out that whole "cars drive on the opposite side here" thing and every time I crossed a street I was look both ways mulitple times and then run across super fast so I didn't get hit by something I didn't see.

You know you need a travel buddy when you've perfected the one-armed photo. - Really not a lot to say here. I've gotten pretty darn good at taking pictures of myself and whatever I want in the background. Makes me think maybe I should travel with friends more often.

Surrounded by 40 Miss World contestants, felt so inferious in my white polo and khakis. Tall beautiful, hair done, makeup one, runway clothes, and 6in heels. Camera people asked me to move. "You look bored..yea, well, the best things come in small packages, just keep that in mind!" - Guy with a large gun.- I was at the airport waiting for our next group of clients to arrive when all these camera men started to surround the gates. When the reason for this papperazzi came through the gate it was 40 Miss Wold contestants. Some of the most beautitful teenagers you have ever seen, all ridiculously tall (and wearing tall heels) all in fresh hair and make-up, clothes straight off a runway show... I felt old, ugly, embarassed by my uniform and desperately wished I had either A. Straightened my hair that morning, or B. Made the effort to put eyeliner and mascara both on. I hid behind a column as they swarmed around me trying to unload their luggage from the belt (or pointing their luggage out to someone who was picking it up for them). I must've looked rather cross because one of the airport security guards told me to keep in mind that the best things comes in small packages. It made me smile, but I still bolted out of there as soon as I caught my clients.

 "juice" is soda. - Now I think I've heard soda called everything.

Haggas in a can and Haggas flavored chips, like Spam...are there Spam flavored chips? Blood pudding...shivers just typing it. Ugh. - I feeeeeel like there was a bit of a Haggas overload. I mean Haggas flavored chips?! It was nuts, I never tried the real thing, since I don't eat meat, but I tried the vegetarian type and didnt' care for it much as the flavor was like a falaful and the texture was a lot like a ground up meat. And I don't even like to think of blood pudding...a seriously bloody-looking piece of sausage type thing that pools in it's own juices on the plate...I might vomit.

Hike up Arthur's Seat, realized I'm an adventure travelor, bring on the mountians! Funny outfit almost made me feel more free and if anyone questioned me I would have spoken a different language. :) - I had to dress warm the day I hiked up Arthur's seat, but my knee had been hurt so I didn't bring clothes for running outside. I ended up wearing my brown tights, my purple workout shorts, a long sleeve black running shirt, grey gloves,  and my burnt orange hat and scarf....I was cute. I really did make me not give  apoop about what other people thought though. It was nice to not care for once, and like I said, had anyone questioned me, I would've spoken Italian and pretended like I had no idea what they were saying. :)

Love Scotland, want to bottle up the accent and take it home with me, but miss that there's not another language. Why don't we all have an accent, what gives people accents of the same language (even w/in US)?---- Still pondering as to why certain countries have certain accents, like Scotland and Ireland, and yet I speak the same language and don't have the same accent.

Saturday, July 14, 2012

Insight

I saw a little kid cry because he was homesick tonight. He was hyperventilating he was crying so hard. His mom came and picked him up and stroked his hair and told him everything was going to be just fine, they were going home soon, just one more night in a strange bed and it would all be over. He cried into his mom's shoulder as she held him and rocked him. He was clearly too big to be held by his mother, but he didn't care, and neither did she. As I watched I teared up and thought, "I"m homesick too. Where's my mommy to come pick me up. I want someone to come take me home too." Perhaps it was just fresh in my head after a boring desk shift spent with an interesting new friend and an old familiar conversation, but Rick's words came to mind, "They never know, they don't realize what we give up personally to live this life." It's so true and I feel like someone should tell you. I feel like someone should know that my life isn't all butterflies and puppy dog tails. This life sometimes sucks. And that's hard to say when I'm in different cities each week and when I'm traveling the world at my company's expense. But sometimes, sometimes, I just wish I had a normal life again. I can't even follow a TV show...I don't even have cable to follow a TV show. It's not worth the money because I would never be home to watch it. And "home..." this place that I call "home" that I see three maybe four days a month is dusty every time I get to come back to it. And my bed, and my clothes, and my car...sometimes I just want MY life back. I wish I didn't have to come back to an empty hotel room each night, and it's not just that there's not physically someone there it's that most of the time I'm either A. too tired or B. in a different time zone so I can't even CALL someone to make it feel like I'm not isolated from the world outside of my job. I want someone to talk to each night...but I love my job and my biggest fear of all right now is that I will never be happy not doing what I do. That I will never feel settled in one place, that I will never be, normal. And what kind of person wants to deal with someone in this type of life?  Honestly I can't have a relationship of any kind, not friends, not boyfriends, and thank goodness my family keeps a hold of me because I'd be lost without them and sometimes it's a struggle to keep them in the loop with my crazy life. The truth is, I envy you. Not all the time, not when I'm on a beach in Hawaii or on a train in the Scottish highlands, not at the great points, correction, the amazing points, but at the okay, mediocre points when I'm at a meeting and someone thanks their wife for all the love and support with sincere tears in their eyes and I realize that I'm alone and at the end of the night I'm still alone, and there's no one awake to call, and not a whole lot of people who can understand, and at that point I feel more alone and sad than ever before, and I want to curl up in a ball and cry...but you can't, you have to keep it together, and you have make it look like your job is the best job in the world and that everything is butterflies and puppy dog tails. Keep smiling for the client, keep pushing through on the lack of sleep and that corner of emptiness in your life. It's all worth something, you're living your dream, and you never know what next month has in store... I just, thought you should know.

Sunday, December 4, 2011

Tiny Volcanic Paradise

I’ve got to get better at this whole keeping-up-with-my-blog-thing. I feel like every time I write an entry I’m apologizing for the massive gap of time between now and the last time someone reminded me that people actually DO read this and really wonder what in the world (or rather, lately more importantly, where) in the world I’ve been up to. So once again, I apologize for anyone who is anxiously awaiting on the edge of their seats and give you my not very trustworthy promise that I will try my best to be more prompt in my writings.

If one HAS to go back to work after almost a month at home, it might as well be in Hawaii. I was lucky enough to be staying on the island of Kauai, which landed as #1 favorite when asking random people or telling friends I was going to Hawaii. Extremely picturesque, even the airport, giving you everything you’ve ever dreamed Hawaii to be in one island, small enough to be driven in half a day. Landing in Hawaii kind of felt like I was flying into the island of Lost (which made me miss the series and also remember how confused I was during the last episode. I guess that happens when you join a show halfway through its lifetime). There below the wings of the plane I could see the beautiful dark volcanic mountains in the middle surrounded by a green you only see at the first of Spring, with the coconut trees waving in the breeze. The sun was shining; the flowers were vibrant (however not fragrant and only in half bloom). And at the luggage rail everyone was greeted by a jolly fat man with a tiny ukulele playing “Somewhere Over the Rainbow…” Okay, I made that up, but really there wasn’t much missing from what I had pictured Hawaii to be.

My first two days were going to be spent camping on the Beach with my friend, and co-worker who had spent the previous summer on this island. I was excited to get back to some rough and tough outdoorsy type stuff after my successful Float/Camping trip where I not only got the tent set up and slept on the ground, but I also managed to get the tent back into its original bag…to me that spells success. :) Liz picked me up, since she arrived earlier in the morning, in a Jeep with the T-top off allowing the sun to shine down. A little Jack Johnson and we were on our way to meet her friend from the previous summer who generously offered to take not one, but TWO very well prepared (read high-maintenance and over-packed) girls out for a couple nights of beach camping. Bless his heart.

It took a little longer than expected to get our things arranged into one vehicle and get moving. So our beach barbeque dinner because grab and go Asian, which was just fine after a 12 hour travel day and crappy airline food. We drove along the West coast all the way to the northern tip of Kauai. We got to the beach and drove down until we found a perfect spot and set up camp in the sand. Lawn chairs, wine, veggies and rice, a camp fire and the waves you could only hear because they were hidden by the dark that come when there are no building lights, no street lamps, no cars. My best memory from Hawaii will be this night. Our camp didn’t include a tent, just a blanket to lay on and one to cover up with. You didn’t need a pillow; all you had to do was wiggle your head back and forth until the sand was built up under the blanket just right. The stars were so brilliant that it reminded me of being back home in Dawn on the front porch looking out with Daddy’s orange telescope. But my absolute favorite, the thing that I swear cannot be replicated or recorded, was the sound of the waves slowly and consistently crashing into the sand. I haven’t slept that well in a long time.

The next morning we awoke before the sunrise. The ocean was grey but just as beautiful as the sounds had led me to believe it would be. I went for a run as the sun was rising through a valley of two mountains not far away. I ran past a Polynesian woman who was meditating, and if I had had my camera I could’ve taken the most beautiful picture of her. That gorgeous sunlight was shining directly down on her like she was some sort of Hawaiian Goddess in all her meditative peacefulness. I returned from my run (which once again, running in the sand proved to be frustratingly difficult, not a fan) to Troy grilling up some breakfast. He even grilled eggs…without a pan. Just stuck the egg, shell and all, on the grill and cooked it like a vegetable or something. It proved to be quite delicious actually with the outside of the egg cooked and the inside still a little runny. We lazed around for quite some time and eventually decided to move out before it got too hot. We went to Troy’s house to switch cars and Liz and I set off on our, just so we could have some jeep time. We drove down the West Coast and back around to the East Coast where we were going to meet Troy to do a hike through the mountains and then campout for a second evening. The plans to meet up went a little awry, but the hike was breathtaking (both because of the views and because we were trying to hurry to catch up with Troy and then had to hurry back out before it got too dark to see…who let us wander off into the woods on our own without water or flashlights anyway?). At the turnaround point of our hike was a rocky, wooded (or palm-treed) stream leading down to another gorgeous beach. We were able to catch glimpses of the sunset as we were speed hiking our way out of the jungle-ness. It too, was beautiful. Making it back to the car in time for the rain to start, we headed back towards town to get some food. We ordered pizza since it was the easiest and sat to eat it there in the little shopping center. We still had to set up camp and that night we would most definitely be using a tent, so we headed out together to pick out a spot on another beach.

Setting up a tent is pretty easy once you know what you’re doing and if it’s your own tent. Setting up a tent in the dark, however, is not. After tugging and pulling, twisting and turning, all in the dark and in the sporadic rain, we managed to have a “roof” to sleep under. This night was not so much my favorite. I was dirty from our hike, stinky, sticky, cold, exhausted, and it was pouring down rain. There was a failed attempt at drinks and games and a long sleep until the next morning, when the rain had finally stopped. I showed to the best of my abilities, using mostly the bathroom sink and we had a breakfast out on the beach of prosciutto, brie, and crackers. We went for a walk down the beach and as we walked away a herd of wild chickens attacked the European style breakfast. Lucky for us, we were full. Liz and I spent some time at her favorite beach, then slowly made our way back towards work. Troy had to go back to work, taking some of things so we didn’t have to pack them all day long. We ran ourselves a little short on time and had to hurry to move luggage when we got to Troy’s work. In moving grocery sacks from the back of the jeep to the front, a condensated, full wine bottle fell through the paper sack and onto the top of my right foot. I dropped the bag as I doubled over which caused beer cans to crack open and spray all over me and the car. I have not felt pain like that since I cracked my left foot on the walnut. I was seriously hurt. Trying not to cry or scream curse words caused me to hold my breath for a good 2 minutes. I wanted so badly to bust that wine bottle on the gravel just to get back at it, but couldn’t help but think of the $15 going to waste. I couldn’t believe something I love so much and think about so often, could hurt me so bad. Sounds like a bad relationship, and maybe it was a sign that I should break things off…but we attended some therapy sessions together and I’ve almost completely forgiven it. :)

Off to work we went, but still some time for play. One day I was able to go sea-kayaking. It was an amazing experience! We shoved off in two-man kayaks and rowed together for a good 30 minutes up the West coast of the island. Along the way we saw “spirit dragons” which were holes in the rock formations that water was pushing in and out of so forcefully that it spouted up into the air. I was about 3 feet from giant sea turtles…and they really are giant. I got to see tiny spinner dolphins too! On our first beach stop we tried a bit of body surfing. I was horrible at, not really grasping the concept of when to catch the wave. BUT one of the instructors allowed me to hold onto his shoulder while he caught one, creating a type of tandem body surfing. The second leg of our journey was 1 ½ hours long…on the rocky, wavy, non-stop motion ocean. About halfway through I started to get a little green around the gills. I couldn’t wait to be on land again. When we finally pulled in at stop #2 I was ready for a little bit of a beach nap. I napped and had a conversation with “Uncle Bobby” who reminded me of a beach version of my friend Bob from the 5-star resort I worked at my sophomore year of college. Uncle Bobby is one of the many people who came to Hawaii on vacation, fell in love with the Hawaiian lifestyle, and never left. The conversation revolved mostly around living your life to the fullest, right now, before you don’t have the life to live. He almost had me convinced I should move to Mexico the following day…but my job is too amazing to give up just quite yet. :) Also at stop #2 I was able to try my hand at Japanese fish-catching. I thought I was doing so well when I would cast and come back up with all 5 hooks on the line full of squirmy little fishes…then they told me we were sitting over a school. Owell, I still felt accomplished! After that we kayaked to our stopping point, just another 15 minutes and I returned ot work exhausted, a little sea-sicky, and sun-burnt. But it was an amazing experience!

The next big thing didn’t happen until the participants left and we had time to go take surfing lessons! It was something I was wanting to do for myself as a birthday treat, so I was excited when we were cut a bit of a deal thanks to our contacts at the hotel! We got there and took some land lessons on how to pop up…I felt like that movie “Forgetting Sarah Marshall” when each pop-up is either too much effort or not enough effort. Getting out in the actual water was awesome and kind of scary, paddling is a lot harder than it looks! We met our teachers out in the water and they would hold our soft long-boards until it was just the right time to catch the wave, then they’d give us a little shove and we’d pop up and hopefully ride the wave in. I caught a few and only had one ridiculous dismount! I got hit by a crazy surfer who couldn’t stop his hard long-board; he landed on my good food, thus leaving me completely bum at this point. This was another amazing experience, although I will say I’m a little disappointed I wasn’t better at it than I was. I suppose I excepted to get out there and catch on and be perfect. Silly me, we all know the motto for life, “ Practice, Practice, Practice!” Ugh…I hated that saying all through high school!

When it was time to leave I was okay with it. I was over being in paradise. I liked Hawaii, but for me it was lacking that magical feeling that a lot of people get from being there. I’m not complaining by any means, I mean, who DOESN’T want to work in paradise? But we can safely say that this chica would get island fever living out there, with $5.00 quarts of milk, in the middle of the ocean. So relax Dad, "Beach Bum" isn't on the radar for future career...well, at least not in Hawaii. :)