I can’t quite decide what to write about this week. It’s not that I don’t have an angle, it’s that I have so many I can’t decide which one to take.
This past weekend we flew to Oahu for my husband’s company’s Christmas party, which was held at some fancy pants hotel in Waikiki. It was definitely nice, but coming from Maui, even the fanciest of Oahu accommodations pale in comparison to the stuff we have going on in Wailea.
I could write about the Christmas party and talk about how Henry Kapono showed up and surprised everyone by playing a handful of songs. I could go off on a tangent about how, when I was watching him perform, I was thinking about how easy it is to fall in love with a man with a guitar and how hard it is to deal with said-man on a daily basis.
Or I could talk about the faux-Christmas that we had at my in-laws place and how truly lucky I feel to have ended up in a family that’s open, honest, loving and totally insane and how I don’t often feel all that love from my own immediate blood family and that it hurts.
I could talk about my husband’s crazy sisters and how I’ve seen their boobs way too many times and how that’s not weird at all. Or I could tell you how I tried to pee with the door open at the house to show them that I love them and couldn’t, for the life of me, until I gave up and shut it.
Another good topic is how we fit eight people into a four-person booth at Zippy’s for dinner and how my husband called me a dork for being really excited by the new options on the menu. I chose option “B” which means my chili frank plate came with a soft drink and chocolate pudding.
And then there’s the 60-plus pound family puppy named Henry who is not frowned upon when using wee-wee pads indoors, but how my nephew Turtle is under pressure not to have an accident on the way to his brand new Royal Potty.
How can you not love a family like that?
I could talk about how, while walking back to our hotel from the party, it dawned on me that neither my husband nor I was drunk and that the realization made me feel happy… and slightly lame.
Then there was the moment that I realized that the hotel that we were staying in was the same hotel with the sundry shop that I bought a bottle of bourbon from 10 or so years ago, and how looking into the store made me feel sad and kind of tripped out.
I thought I’d write about that specific night, selling parrot pictures to tourists, drinking on the park bench and making friends with monsters. But then I realized that I’m still not quite ready to.
Last night, I thought for sure that I’d rant about the horrendous case of food poisoning my husband came down with after the party and how riding on a plane with a salmonella victim is nerve-wracking. But then I thought I’d be nice and spare you.
Starr Begley was this close to being the musical chair champion of 2007. MTW