Check out how awesome I’ve become (see the title). I’m so Hawaiian.

This morning, Adam and I went surfing at Pua’ena Point, which is on the North Shore of Oahu. So, technically, I’ve surfed the North Shore. Just like Jack Johnson and Blue Crush. Sort of.

Anyway, it was really fun. I stood up for all but my first wave, saw a humpback and paddled beside a sea turtle. I saw the humpback from afar, which is good, because honestly, if a humpback breached or even just swam in anything resembling close proximity to the vicinity of me bobbing about in the ocean (attached to nothing but a smallish flotation device), I’d first

1. be overcome by the majestic beauty of nature,
2. then pee in fear, attracting sharks and dying of humiliation and being eaten at the same time. There’s really no other way this could turn out. Obviously.

Adam came too, and though he got tired before I did (yay, yoga-shoulders!), he had a really great time, too. Which, translated, means that he wants to surf more. I WIN! I’ve surfed a few times, but never really got into it, because it’s kind of tricky to do alone, if you don’t have someone to share it with (both the sport and the epic drive up to Tofino). Though, I must say, I kind of want to stick to tropical surfing. Because it is awesome. Awesome and warm. It’s nice to not squeeze yourself into a wetsuit that you just KNOW oodles of strangers have peed in.

So clearly, my dear friends, I need to move to Hawaii. Didn’t I say this would happen? I visit Hawaii; I want to move here. For surfing and for tropical fruits. Seriously. They have coconut EVERYTHING here. You know who likes coconut EVERYTHING? This wahine!

So, that’s pretty much my update. It was rainy today. But I didn’t mind, though I hope it’s sunnier tomorrow. I’d like more of a (safely acquired through the thorough application of SPF 30) tan before I head back to the true north strong and free (and frozen).

Isn’t it pretty?

Hey my esteemed readers! I’m currently on a ferry, enroute to Vancouver. Tomorrow morning, I’ll be driving down (okay, I’m not driving, I’m passenging) with my beloved and his family (also mine, then) to Bellingham and then getting on a plane. To Hawaii. You may have already gathered that, from my title. Did you know “aloha” means both “hello” and “goodbye”? There’s a little bit of something nice in that, though I haven’t put my finger on it yet.

I haven’t been to Hawaii since 2004, when we visited Maui with Ben and Ashley. I, for one, am very much stoked. I wonder if, when we come home, I’ll find a kitten I can’t resist and name it Oahu (that’s how Maui the Hairy got her name). I also ended up getting a Hawaiian tattoo in ’04. So you just never know what could happen. Could be I come home with a mohawk. Or a surfboard. Or, more likely, a new bikini. And sand in my hair that doesn’t come out for 2 weeks.

*** Time Passes***

And now it’s Sunday, and I’m sitting on our patio listening to the crashing waves and finishing this post. I couldn’t remember the incredibly pithy and witty topic I was going to write while I was on the ferry, so I gave up. But now, my friends. Now. NOW I AM IN HAWAII AND I REMEMBER HOW MUCH I FRIGGING LOVE IT HERE. For reals (obviously, based on my use of caps lock, right?). Last time I was here, it was spring of 2004 and I spent much of the ensuing 3 years trying to find a way to move here. Then I got all busy, what with accruing more student debt getting my MBA. And now I am back and I am in love with Hawaii. If I weren’t already married, I’d get down on one sandy knee and propose a lusty engagement, followed by a long and happy life growing old together. With Adam. Of course. And Grimby and the cats. They’d love this sand.

Anyway, I’m here and drinking toasted coconut beer:

and eating my body weight in dried mango: Thank you Ben & Ashley for creating a monster.

Here is my view. Life is very hard for me. Clearly.

It’s so far to the beach.

We’re staying in Hale’iwa on the North Shore of Oahu. You know; Pipeline, where I won’t be surfing.

We haven’t been to Waikiki yet, but we will, oh we will. Also, I have a theory: Hawaii is way more fun than working. I’ll keep testing it and let you know how it turns out (Spoiler Alert: The theory is correct. I already know this to be true.).

Do you know where yeast comes from?

I do: the grocery store. It comes in handy little packets, designated for particular uses by the labelling.

This is very convenient for me, because, apart from the baking aisle, I have literally no idea where to find/harvest/grow yeast. Is it hunt? Does one hunt it? Are there pack[et]s of wild yeasts, roaming the countryside?

Generally speaking, this kind of thing doesn’t keep me up at night, except for tonight, but that’s largely because I was too busy having an amazing time this weekend to draft a post. And I did say I’d post at least once a week. I even put that on Facebook, so you know it’s true.

Seriously, though.

Does it ever stop and make you think, “How the hell did they figure yeast out, anyway? And who were they?” I mean, humanity has been eating bread for an awfully long time and I’m pretty sure it’s been of the leavened variety for longer than Wonderbread‘s been available.

I’m also pretty sure that, were there to be an apocalypse of some kind, those of us who survive it would be up the proverbial creek for a myriad of reasons. Just for the record, I optimistically include myself on this team of survivors. It is my hypothesis, after all…

Yeast aside, how about mushrooms? Indeed, you say—how about them? Well, most of them look pretty devious to me. I love truffles, but they’re kind of malevolent-looking funghi, if I do say so myself. Funky, wrinkly delicious little funghi that I can’t tell from poison truffles. If I’m needing to forage for my dinner, I’m likely to kill myself and anyone else unlucky enough to be over for the meal.

Do you know which berries are poisonous and which ones make delicious pies? Because I sure as heck don’t.

Let’s say I’m making a celebratory post-apocalyptic pie. One must carry on, after all, and it’s important to keep the morale high in such dismal circumstances. Let’s imagine (because it would be purely imaginative) that I’ve somehow managed to discern the tasty, non-fatal varieties from the instant-and-yet-still-agonizingly-painful-death varieties. I mean, it’d be pretty shitty irony if my “Yay-We’re-Still-Alive” pie killed what few persistent and tenaciously dogged survivors that made it relatively unscathed through The Great Whatever.

But back to the pie: a pie needs a crust. I can’t make flour and I have no idea where I’d find lard. How does one make lard? Actually, on second thought, please nobody answer that. I don’t think I want to know. But you see where I’m going with this, right?

I’m not sitting here freaking out or anything (in case you were worried). Nor do I fear/foresee an impending apocalypse, just for the record. I just wonder about these things sometimes.

We have come an awfully long way, as a species, but it’s a bit sobering to think that my house pets would better survive and be suited to life sans comforts/necessities than I would, no contest. This is saying something, because currently, my dog is rubbing his head against my feet, while Maui hides from nothing at all, under the bed. I can’t see Hermes, but it’s a fair bet that he’s laying close to his food dish. On second thought, maybe Hermes wouldn’t fare well. After all, he’s not that resourceful and he’s awfully lazy…

Anyway. Stuff to think about. Am I the only one who wonders (not worries; just wonders) about this kind of stuff? What random stuff makes you go hmm?

Another example: shoe-water/weatherproofing spray. I don’t know where this stuff comes from. So, what, my shoes all get wrecked, because life as we know it is changed forever?