Dodging Bullets Hawaiian Style

Last evening, we settled down to recoup from our busy day. All of a sudden we hear POP, POP, KABOOM! KABOOM! I was about to look out of the window by parting the drapes, but my sis screamed at me to get away from the windows. It could be gun fire. She hit the deck. So there we were crawling around on the floor to avoid what sounded like explosions and shooting bullets. I crawled to the phone and dialed the front desk to inquire if there was any firework display and the operator said no. None at our resort. At my sis' insistence, I urged the operator to call the police. She reassured me that she would call us back. That left us in a quandary wondering where the safest place for us to cower away from any windows would be. We were trying to decide which bathroom would be the best when the phone rang. By this time, the explosions sounded louder and more insistent. R answered the phone with "Call the police! We are under attack!" At which time, the operator informed us that the Hilton across the street was having a firework show. I missed seeing the most amazing sight of my life because we were crouched on the floor dodging non existent bullets! We have never laughed so hard in our life!

Aloha

I've been up since 3:30 AM to catch an 8 o'clock flight to Honolulu which took 7 hours from Phoenix. My sis and I had lunch over our two hour delay and boarded a smaller Hawaiian Air plane for a 40 minute jaunt to Kona on the Big Island. While awaiting take off, there was a delay necessitated by one last passenger. Amid a flutter of activity involving Special Agents and a small motorcade on the tarmac, we watched President George Bush get out of a limo and embark on our plane. We were 6 rows behind him but his bodyguards buffered him from prying eyes and our attempts at documenting our encounter with photos. I was impressed that he used a public airliner and was not on a private jet.

Travel Inspirations

I found my travel journal to pack for my Hawaiian Adventure. It took me back reading posts from previous excursions. I found this poem I wrote while flying from London to Edinburgh, Scotland:

Dollops of Cool Whip as seen from above.

Searching for polar bears in layers of gauze.

Spun cotton candy without hint of hue.

Wispy tendrils of air holding on to sweet dew.

Downwards we drop over moss covered rocks.

Upon highlands and lowlands,

The Land of the Scots.

I hope Hawaii will inspire me as well.

Taking Our Act On the Road

Busyness precludes silliness. I've been too busy to be silly. But with a road trip in the offering with my sister and I coming up next week, I am sure there will be ample opportunity for Murphy's Law to take effect. Even blind naked mole rats have an advantage over us since they are endowed with their own natural instincts. My sis and I were born with developmental topographical disorientation Neither one of us has any sense of direction, so it is always an adventure for us to maneuver to any given location. If we ever get to where we are suppose to go, look for fireworks. If we don't find it, look for flares.

Throne Ponderings

Yesterday, I sat upon a "U" shaped toilet seat and tried to recall if my toilets at home were "U" or "O" shaped. I decided I definitely remember them being "O" configured but I do remember growing up with "U" shaped seats when I was a child. When did the "U's" turn into the "O's" and why did this happen? Wouldn't the usage of toilet paper be more easily facilitated if seated on a "U"? (I couldn't bring myself to say wiping oneself cause that sounds gross.) Oh, the things one ponders while sitting upon a throne.

Clank, Clank

Here I thought us retiring baby boomers had the dementia market cornered, however, the more blogs I read, the more I realize there are loons and buffoons in every age category. I am not so sure how I feel about this revelation. In some ways, I am reassured that my reality is still intact enough, despite the slippage of gears and wheels, to maintain a decorum of normalcy. On the other hand, I fear for the up and coming generations, for they may have a jump start into the ludicrous category. Or are they placating me with their attempts at lunacy, to make me feel better? If so, it worked. Sort of. Kinda. Maybe. And why are you wearing that hat made out of tin foil?

No Venison Please

Instead of Beef and Beer, I fear Deer and Beer events will be springing up locally around Valley Forge National Historic Park. Unfortunately, the deer population has gotten so out of control, it is endangering the natural forest's ability to regenerate. The sad solution may involve sharp shooters, sorry to say. My idea would be deer rescue by allowing them to graze upon lawns thus eliminating lawn mower pollution. You see, I have yet to recover from the trauma caused by the loss of Bambi's mother.

Post Tramatic Glycemic High

I survived yet another Valentine's Day without succumbing to a sugar induced coma, even though I over indulged in my chocoholic obsession. How hard is to to diet with such sinful sugary sweets seducing sensibilities? Impossible! Unfortunately, I am not one to ration out one piece at a time over the next month. I find it necessary to gorge myself until gone. By tomorrow, I will have accomplished this goal. How many more days until Easter?

~*~Happy Valentine's Day~*~

Roses are red.

Violets are blue.

If you read my blog,

I'll read your's also.

Trash Talk

A few days ago, I made reference to that "stinky, stinky, stinky, hefty, hefty, hefty" commercial and ever since then 15 people have looked that up on Google and found their way to my blog. I can't help but to wonder if they were disappointed to find their way here. Why would that commercial have such a following in the first place as it is so very annoying? Maybe Friday the 13 th has something to do with this. People are afraid to leave their homes so are doing mindless Internet searches thinking it is a far safer thing to do than going to work. I hope tomorrow on Valentine's Day these people have better priorities in store than researching for stinky hefty bags. May all your Hefty bags smell sweet. May all your stinkiness be discreet. May all your Valentine wishes come true so that love and happiness will be finding you.

Fantasy on High

If a dolphin, a whale and a shark were to race, which one would win? I just witnessed said event and it is still unclear to me which one came out on top. Well, actually they all were on top as the aforementioned racers were performing their race among the clouds. Cloud watching is one of my more idyllic pastimes which is highly intensified on a windy day such as this. Wistfully I watch, observing the clouds perform their own unique choreography much to my amazement. My dolphin, whale and shark have since dissolved into oblivion much like a well shaken giant etch a sketch. A new cast of characters have appeared. Now it is up to me to return to a childlike state of mind to witness another brilliant display of Mother Nature's finest productions. Oh look....there's a crab!

I Can't Believe My Eye!

I just witnessed the worst combination of TV commercials made possible. They have besmirched my beloved American Idol with their annoyance. The first was H & R Block with those freaky people with one eye that I can't even bear to look at. The second was "stinky, stinky, stinky, hefty, hefty, hefty". Almost as bad as that Head On commercial. I will not be taking my hefty bags to H & R Block any time soon, that's for sure! Unless they promise to fill those bags with money. Then I might reconsider.

Canine Servitude

As much as I abhor the mere thoughts of slavery, I have become a willing participant into it's loathing state of self denial. Yes, I put my dogs highest on my list of priorities. It used to be my kids, but they've moved on, so I have substituted a fur covered variety instead. I am at their bark and call. It used to be the phone that I felt compelled to answer at all times, in case it was some dire emergency, but that was before caller ID. Now, however, if my dog barks to get let out, no matter what I may be doing at the time, I will jump over hurdles and through hoops to open the door. I am also a sucker for that Pet Me, Feed Me, Play with Me look. As much as I know that my world is vast and complex, I know their world centers around me. And at the end of the day, that is all that really matters.

Homeland Security

Sometimes, I hear an airplane or helicopter that in my esteemed estimation sounds to be flying too low. This is not based on anything scientific just purely decibel levels. The louder it is, the closer it must be. I hold my breath and listen intently, willing the plane to advance altitude so at least it won't crash in my neighborhood. I am proud to announce that this works. I continue to live in a no crash zone. Perhaps I should keep this under wraps, as I'd hate to be drafted to D.C.

Shattered Image

I have an affliction. Only one you might ask? I'll leave the others for another day. What I am admitting to today is the fact that I can only wink one eye. It is quite obvious to me that my left eye is far superior to my right. I am trying to think of a politically correct term to use so my right eye does not take offense. Wink deficient? Wink deprived? Eye lid malfunction? Anti-flirt syndrome? Weak levitus lifter? (I made that one up.) Malnourished eyeball? Oh well, at least I can blink both eyes and for that I am most thankful.

The Girls Day Out

Wednesday, I preformed my annual pilgrimage. I followed all the rules, no deodorant, no powder, no lotion. It had snowed the night before, so I had to dig out my car. I allowed extra time to get there not knowing the condition of the roads. I reached my destination safe and sound. I had a questionnaire to fill out requiring me to remember back to the first day of my curse. I also had to remember how many children I had. I think I aced that one. Somethings are harder to forget than others. Childbirth being one of them. I put on the required blue gown with the opening in the front. After that, it was a blur of flattening, squishing and holding my breath. I was told to get dressed and go home. Two days later, I notice the girls are tender. Then I remembered the agony I put them through. But you know what? I'm glad I did to have the peace of mind that I can continue to have custody of the twins. I encourage others to follow suit. The cartoon is a way to prepare yourself for the film debut of Gladys and Erma. Or whatever your names for them may be.

Invisible Me

I must be taking myself too seriously lately because I have not laughed since the Super Bowl commercials. My yin and yang, Cheesh and Chong and gin and sing are out of sync. The proof of the pudding is a new crop of fever blisters smack dab front and center beneath my snozola. Surely I am not yucking it up sufficiently enough to be healthy. I feel like a self conscience, insecure adolescent with bad acne. I slather on Abreva to no avail. The good news is once you hit sixty, you become invisible and no one looks at you anyway.

Must Dust?

Why does a dusting of snow outdoors look so much prettier than a dusting of dust indoors? Then there is the dusting of gray in hair that makes one looks sophisticated. A dusting of powdered sugar on donuts is yummy. There is the Dust Bowl, magic dust, fairy dust, Dust in the Wind, dust mites, star dust, angel dust and the biblical reference of dust to dust. Keeping track of dust is an unrelenting process. What I dust now will become dusty again tomorrow so I think I would rather watch the snow fall and not worry about it for today.