What a relaxing way to wrap up the day. A day that wasn't relaxing in its entirety, because OH. MY. GOD. I am thankful I did NOT decapitate someone today, while kiting. Or trying to kite is a better way of saying it. I launched and as can happen with me frequently, it stunk and the kite bit the dust, otherwise known as the Pacific Ocean. To make a long story short, my down kite lines ended up between a fellow kiter retrieving their board from the water and the beach. They didn't move waiting for me to try launching again.... I think. As I started to raise the kite, they ducked under the water to get away from my 4 lines but only escaped 3. I watch a head poke through the surface with my 4th line quite near their jugular..... at least from my perspective. I immediately imagined every possible scary, scenario involving lots of blood, guts and strangulation. I am about to crap when one more duck successfully takes place and there is nothing but open water ahead of me.

I thought she was going to lob a brick at the chicken but thankfully none were in her immediate grasp when she wildly looked around for something solid. If she had found such an object, I think we would be discussing a flatten Bold Barry. She did manage a "shoo" and Bold Barry left. John tried to intervene on the young chicken's behalf by saying "he was fine" but Myrtle was determined. "That is unsanitary" she replied firmly. A very unusual tone for her. Looking up, I was surprised to see a chastised look on John's face. Not a common sight to say the least. But then again, we are discussing a wonderful, sweet, allegedly pregnant woman in charge of bring him Mai Tai's and Pizza. Plus, it probably is unsanitary. I have to give him credit, he knows the proper time to concede. And Bold Barry was never to be seen again which I found surprising, but I guess he too can appreciate the law that is "momma". Or it could be, I am simply used to cats. In my lifetime, telling a cat "shoo" guarantees it will pester you for the remainder of the day. And you know what, that very loud band I mentioned earlier, after 3 Mai Tai's, they don't seem so loud.

Another strange phenomena that takes place after a few Mai Tai's, John can suddenly read Chinese.

3/11/2010 -- Maui, HI

I was talking to my new, normally sweet, appreciative, bread loving, friend Madge today and learned she had a bone to pick with me. She even dropped the food in her mouth to peep her frustration, so I knew it must be serious. Madge said I needed to print a retraction on this website stat. In a previous entry, that she just got around to reading, she saw that I called her Sally and her name is Madge.. M-A-D-G-E….. Madge. Did I have wax in my ears? Sally??? Hmpf!!!

Of all the names, in all the world, I wrote Sally. Come to find out, I pulled up a chair at this point, Madge’s husband (not Sally’s husband definitely not Sally’s) used to date a serious floozy with that name. And she was something terrible. Just ruffles her tail feathers when anyone mentions that lying wenches name. Anyway, you can now see why I am quickly posting this correction. P.S. Madge is still chirping away. Can anyone bring me a glass, no make that a bottle, of wine? I think I might be here awhile.

3/10/2010 - Maui, HI

To ride or not to ride that is the question.

The wind report suggested freaking nuts today or in other words strong and gusty.

I went to Rick's live report and heard "squalls with gusts over *30 mph" or strong and gusty. He ended the report with "aloha and good luck".

Driving to the beach, the smoke from the Sugar Cane factory suggested strong and gusty.

Sitting at the traffic light, the jeep vibrated from side to side because..........wait for it..........it was strong and gusty.

John used the port-oh-john and came back reporting the trip in it was precarious, it was so strong and gusty. A tipped over port-oh-john, I don't even want to think about it.

I had my answer. No way ho hay. Sitting this one out baby. My mind is made up.

But then we were presented with an opportunity. A chance to purchase a sturdy, Cabrinha 6-meter kite. I informed John he knows what I like and he could make the decision. I got out of my rash guard and into a comfy sweatshirt.

He launched,

rode and returned.

John: "You will LOVE this kite. Take it out!"

Me: "No, it is nuts out there."

John: "You will be fine. Trust me."

Me: "It is crazy out there."

John: "Take it out, you will be fine. I wouldn't say this if I didn't mean it."

Me: "It is gusty out there. Strong and gusty."

John" "You will be fine."

Me: "I will be fine?"

John: "Yes!"

Guess what? I hit the road.

3/10 -- Maui, HI

I really should call my handsome honey....... handsome, handy honey or HHH.

Before John, I always thought the only people successfully repairing cars worked in garages. Who else could keep track of so many makes and models and pieces and parts? I figured in the large garages some mechanics specialized in European cars, some in American, others in Japanese. It simply seemed too much for one person to remember.

I most certainly never saw my father look under a hood. I don't recall my brother doing so either.

Drunk or sober, John can fix a car. Once, after a night of debauchery with his childhood friend Kirk, he decided to snooze in the van while Kirk drove them safely home. Payback for childhood adventures I guess.

In one young, love fueled saga, Kirk convinced handsome honey, excuse me HHH, to bike ride miles and miles, so they could pass a cute girl's house. A preteen slut maybe??? It wasn't to visit her, no it was simply to bike past her home. Not so much a slut. John didn't really get into exercising until his 30's and I am sure his couch potato 12-year old body was a hot mess by the time they got home. But like a true friend, he accompanied Kirk on the ride.

Anyway. on this wayward drunken night, John was abruptly awoken by Kirk announcing the van wouldn't shift. Sitting up, John registered they are at a standstill and on the side of the road. No problem. Hopping under the vehicle, he lay his hands on the wayward transmission wires and viola, problem resolved.

He got to go back to sleep and Kirk continued driving.

If it had been me, I would have had to wake my mom up. She would have called AAA, while driving to meet my sorry butt hanging on the side of the road. AAA would arrive.... hopefully after mom... and she would say while driving her daughter's car home at 3 a.m. it seized up. She being the party animal type of mom. At the mention of my name, they would both look for my presence only to see me slinking from the alley with a now empty bladder. Thankfully my car never quit working in the early morning hours as my mom definitely didn't need to see my potty break. And I am sure she appreciates a full nights sleep. Next time I see her, I will need to remind her what an awesome daughter I am. One that doesn't call at 3 a.m. from the side of the road wanting use of her AAA membership.

Learning to Self Launch

3/8/2010 -- Maui, HI

There are fun kiting days and there are FUN kiting days. Monday pushed the FUN barometer to the edge. Why? The wind was as smooth as a lie out of JFK's mouth telling Jackie he had been hanging with the boys. Marilyn who? Secondly, I was riding my 8-meter Helix. I am not sure what we are going to do for John, I guess we need to get him a Helix too. And shockingly, the water was not crowded. The lack of riders might be tied to the overcast day, which I loved. Just another reason I had such a wonderful time. Normally the rampy waves are dominated by the more experienced and brazen riders zipping back, forth, right and left. All their zipping and twirling makes me nervous, so I ride just upwind and out of the mix. Today, I had those little waves all to myself. No wonder it is always crowded there. Freaking fun!

Besides having a damn good time, I came to the conclusion that there is an age to loudness ratio in getting someone to catch your kite when one is done riding. The appropriate way to signal you are landing is to making a hooting sound while patting your head. Before launching today, I noticed an attractive 20ish blond European female returning to shore. Out of the corner of my eye, from the furthest corner across the beach I saw a somewhat older male kiter sprinting, like I have never ever seen him run before, to catch her kite. I am not sure she made a sound, but from his pace you would think her kite was out of control and she would soon touch down in Oz on top of the Wicked Witch of the East if he didn't reach her asap.. In about 10-years, she will need to add an audible hoot with the head pat, in 20-years a substantial hoot and 30-years from now she needs to come in there screaming like a banshee with it's head engulfed in flames as her hands beat out the fire. Thankfully I have a handsome honey waiting for me.

3/7/2010 -- Maui, HI

It is becoming my Maui Sunday morning ritual. Around 6:30 a.m. I get a text from Susan with one or two words. Today I read "Walk Wailea?". I replied back "yes". Hopping on the Wailea Boardwalk at 8 a.m., figuratively not literally, we stopped to observe the "Swim for the Heart' race. Unfortunately, it didn't look like they were swimming out in the immediate future and we continued with our own activity. Many years ago, in a land far, far away, I too participated in similar events. I then realized I don't like pain, I am slow and it takes a ton of time to train for races. Of course, the time goes hand in hand with the slowness factor. Add in the injuries and it becomes a whole new ball of wax. Back then, my wounds were self-inflicted instead of wear and tear related. I was still in my 20's, the wear and tear would greet me with a giant smile along with a pat on the back in my 30's. From experience I learned not to tie a key onto my shoe lace while running. When the opposing shoe lace gets jealous due to its' lack of key status, it will fly over latching onto the lust worthy object. Once shoe laces from both shoes are happily partying together, the hostess goes from jogging at a nice clip to crashing into sidewalk face first at a very rapid pace. Pain and embarrassment immediately follow. The party is broken up and the hostess has to limp miles home with bleeding hands, hips and a cement pattern embedded in her stomach. There is a feeling of relief too for hands reaching the cementl .00001 seconds ahead of the face. A race I am very glad the hands won.

Handsome honey carrying both of our kites. I wonder if this is how baby 3-meter kites come to be.

On the beach, a female kiter let me know she saw a shark in the water while riding. It wasn't big enough to scare her out of the water though. 3-feet tops. Not sure I would have left either if I had seen it. Just need to remember to punch them in the eye if they attack.