My Life in Paradise

because I only wish I could make this sh*t up…

Looking forward…..

I started this blog just shy of 3 years ago when I moved to Hawaii.  So much has gone on and changed.Holy crap.  I did what I set out to do, I applied for and was accepted to RN school even with a few detours along the way like love, loss, nearly dying and nearly marriage (again). Oh and I moved to Australia 2 days ago.

On marriage: Every once in a while (every 5 or so years) I think that being normal (which I have said is a cycle on a dishwasher since I was 13) is a good idea.  It’s not.  I’m a terrible spouse.  Selfish, driven, chaotic and a bitch in the AM all describe me. Hopefully this last round of white picket fence-ism is the last.

Let's not and not say I did.

Let’s not and not say I did.

Ps – I didn’t accept my offer to RN school. Instead I’m perusing a degree in biomedical science, genetic counseling and molecular biology.

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The posts I don’t write?

I keep meaning to update my blog and I open the page only to be inundated with internal lists of what I should and should not write.  I’ll get back to this when I figure out what I’m doing.  Until then – keep on ducks.  This is the good stuff.

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I read because…

….words will rip themselves from the page and be embedded in my brain…

“What I wanted to do was to fasten my index finger and thumb at the bolts of your collar bone, push out, spread the web of my hand until it caught against your throat. You asked me if I wanted to strangle you. No, I wanted to fit you, not just in the obvious ways but in so many indentations.”

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Flailing along… (humm to Bobbing Along on the Bottom of the Beautiful Briny Sea…)

The last 9 months have been made of flail….survivable, but totally back to back, nearly non-stop flail….

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Hey Y’all Watch This! aka I’m in the kitchen again..

The humorous and painful (literally) life of a girl who can’t cook living with a chef.

Last night I’m heating up side dishes for dinner. Microwave 3 minutes. Ding! Thank you Safeway. (It’s Friday shushy) and I think “hmm wonder of the mashed potatoes are warm”.

I stick my finger in and they are really really really really hot, stuck to my finger and burning. “Owieeeeee” and I look up and Jess is leaning on the counter grinning.

Here comes the sympathy! . (You’d think!)


Monster says “those types of things stick to skin and burn like hell.”

me: “You didn’t think to warn me?”

Monster: “Nope, it’s funny to watch”

Me: “Yeah thanks, all I can see now is a neon sign over your head when I walk in the kitchen. It says “hey y’all watch this and has an arrow pointing to me!”

Monster: “Pretty much”

Me: “That really burned”

Monster: “Yeap..”

Below is what happened when I made myself scrambled eggs last week….I’ll stick with Starbucks…


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I met a man who couldn’t hear and couldn’t speak….

Six or seven years ago when I first started to visit my parents in Hawaii I noticed each car had a pencil and a pad of paper in it.  I didn’t think anything of it, I assumed it was for notes as old people forget things.  I was wrong.

One day LadyMom asked me if I ever wondered what the note paper and pencils were for.  Obviously being me I said something snarky like “you’re old – it makes perfect sense”.  She huffed and said “rude child you are wrong.  They are for my Anthony.”  She told me about and that whenever they see him on the road they stop and get him as close to where he is going as is possible.  

NOTE: Hitching is very very common in Hawaii…

Yesterday, by chance, I met “her Anthony”.  Anthony is a Hawaiian man who can not speak and can not hear.  For years both my parents have been picking him up as he hitch hikes back and forth from town to his home in the village at Milolii.  

Milolii is an interesting place where the haole (white person) is not welcome at all.  

They take care of their own and they take care of Anthony very well.

As we drove along and he made noises I didn’t understand, but my LadyMom did.  They wrote notes back and forth.  He wanted to know who I was etc. etc.  He’s a kind man and when he got where he wanted to go we let him out.  He shook everyones hand and went on his way.  Anthony has an incredibly gentle sense about him.  Like he doesn’t know or care his world is different than ours.

I wondered aloud after he left about how different his world must be so to ours.  Communication for me is hurried and instant.  Everything is texts and googled  and emailed or chatted.  I find phone numbers and addresses on the fly and get a little anxious when my phone dies.  What if Mr.Monster needs me?  What if Ladyface has to tell me something bestie important?  

Anthony makes his way through the world with a pencil and the kindness of those he meets along the way.  He walks, often for miles and it’s just the way his life is.  Apparently 10 years ago they took his drivers license away because he can’t hear.  

I have often experienced anger and frustration from my friends who are differently abled.  They are (often rightly so) irritated and angered that the world doesn’t understand they need accommodation.  Hell the 4-5 months I spent limping around needing a ride everywhere after surgery made me surly, cranky, and unpleasant.   And then there is Anthony.  A simple man, living in a village 45 miles from town, supported by his community and at peace with his differences.


ps – more than one friend of mine has looked for sign language classes for me on this rock in the pacific and there are none.  I even asked at the university and there is just no freakin deaf culture here.  Apparently on the Big Island of Hawaii no one is ever deaf……



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Something – something – learn to fly…. wtf?



Somewhere between the life I thought I would have and the life I do have are a lot of old dreams.  Some were flights of fancy and others are things I should have done.  I find myself with more questions than answers just like everyone else.  There are metric tonne of books written about finding yourself and following your dreams.  I have 20+ of them along with a book about the heart of buddha written by a former punk and junkie.  

Yeah no.  I think this sums it up best.  

I stare agape at Sunday-in-the-park couples. Sidewalk strollers, fingers-laced, heads-on-shoulders, hearts laid bare. Audacious highwire artists, soaring netless… oblivious or brave. Arrogant idiots, I muse from my spectator view, hoping no one hears the screaming inside my head.

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Why I can’t find anything I want on Craiglist……

It’s a lovely day here in AlohaLand…..I’m working away and poof someone awesome (LeDragon) sends me something awesome.. Not won the lotto awesome, but close… explanation as to why I can’t find anything cool on Craigslist…..IT’S BECAUSE a lady named Victoria Olivia Barnes already has..

5,000+ miles away from me in a house (a house not dissimilar to the Victorian house Mr.Monster owns in Virginia) is where all the cool craigslist things live….including several giant mirrors that I would sell other peoples body parts in order to hang in the house I don’t live in because the house I don’t live in is where all our nice things are…

Great – now I miss no-wheresville Virginia and I’m verklempt to not be installing a claw foot tub and growing insane numbers of tomatoes this summer. Never-mind my office looks out over the blue expanse that is the Pacific ocean….. I’m never happy am I? Don’t answer that….no really…don’t answer….

Read Victoria’s blog – it’s what mine would be more like if I was restoring a house and not chasing my ass around trying to stop people from doing human things….I need to rethink my career change… Mr.Monster won’t thank anyone for any part of this least of all the fact that I’m going to find a freakishly huge mirror and put it somewhere in some house somewhere..


We have one like this… Virginia…..

Ps- I can’t stop editing this post or thinking about that mirror and how I need to get off this rock and steal the Morror.Troll..

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I won… Say it.. I won.. I won…

Anyone who knows me knows I know every word there is to know from the movie Tank Girl.  At one point in my young life I wanted the comic book version tattooed on my body.  I’ve since grown up and realize that missile boobs are going to crash and look like deflated balloons in the next 19 years or so.

But I did win, or at least I think I did.  I’m getting married.  The girl “who would never get married” is getting married.  Setting the date made it a little real, sending in the venue contract made it a whole lot more real.  This is a happy kind of real and a reminder to start blogging more lest I forget the funny and important parts of planning this monumental event.

  • Venue – done
  • Hair and makeup – done
  • Dress – flying to California soon
  • 100,000,000 other things?  still.not.done

Whatever – the point is for all of this to be fun.  There have been days even recently that I was a crying mess because I thought a wedding was just going to be a disaster and that I should go live under a banana leaf in Thailand.  (Why Thailand?  I have a backyard full of banana trees so I clearly wasn’t being rational….not news…)  I have LadyFace and LadyFairy and a very bold Dragon on my side to continually say “is that what you really want?” and it works.  They are amazing.

It’s going to be fun, it’s going to be fine.  My most favorite people ever will be here, the whales will be migrating and everything else is just extra.  I plan to spend an inordinant amount of time the week before making things with LadyFace while drinking fruity drinks and wearing Hello Kitty pajamas because that’s what I want.  My invites have skulls and octopus on them, because I want them too.

Somewhere during the growing up thing I’ve been doing was realizing I get to have the life, the wedding, the fiance, the car, the education THAT I WANT TO HAVE – not what’s been dictated by other people.  So yay, I’m spoiled – not news.


The problem with 501c3’s…….

The video says it all.

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