Maui is for Gluttons

So I'm here in Maui, writing to you. Because I miss you of course. Because I think of you often, even whilst sitting under contrivances called palapas, sipping additional contrivances called "Volcanoes" which is only a code word for THREE KINDS OF RUM, PLUS A CHERRY. And I pour some out for you, my homeys, because of all the love.

Today we rode the Hana Highway which I have to tell you, was the biggest let down to date. Talk about a precarious trek filled with subpar drivers waving their empty 40s as they speed around ungodly bends, on your side of the road. It was beautiful and all, don't get me wrong, it's just that I don't like being agitated and slightly homicidal for three hours straight. Usually.

Best thing so far? The grub. I mean of course. I knew it would be. I knew I'd be eating my way around this island; the manapua, the malasadas, the kalua pig, the lau lau. (Pictures soon to follow.) But oh my god, the glorious food. I am eating for sport at this point, making a spectacle of myself, but guess what? Like I care. I will eat until I cannot eat anymore, just to get the memory of this fantastic food properly seared into my brain.

Oh and I saw the hospital in which I was born. So quaint. I also saw Baker Street in Lahaina where I spent the first three years of my wee little life. In my mind's eye it's always been a forested stretch of road that went on into infinity, when in reality it's apparently about four feet long, tops. And so also quaint. This whole island is quaint. I'm tan from all the quaintness. I'm full from all the food, and the tanning.

And so that's all I've got. I'll talk to you again in two or three days when I've arrived back at Banality Central, Hossenfeffer Incorporated.

Kbye.

Kahului and beyond

Well, I'm off to Maui. It's a nine hour flight but at least it's direct. Get on the plane, get your seat, take a Xanax and then boom, aloha oe. I'm quite looking forward to it.

And how many people could possibly be going to Kahului Maui from Chicago this morning? Not many, right? I should be able to upgrade to better seats and travel in some kind of style. Yes, this is what I'm commissioning my angels to do for me. Get thee to the airline counter and find the most amenable and delightful soul, and then work on them for me, so that when they encounter me I will shine, my positivism and happiness radiating everywhere! Because of this they will want to upgrade me, oh and with style! Not just to the emergency row, either, but to business class, or better yet, first! And there will be champagne! And it will cost me next to nothing!

There, I have put in my order.

In any case, I will try to post while I'm away, but make no promises. I will miss you all, plus my dogs who will be here at home attended the whole week by strapping family members who have no idea what it means to wrangle with a human sized beast or, for that matter, a smaller and more surly one. But all is in order.

I guess all that's needed is for me to get to ORD and get that first class seat, amirite?

Daily Tarot: Monday

Knight of Swords

Meaning: Concealing emotions. Military demeanor. Disciplined. (+)Supremely confident. Has courage and a good heart. Responsible, shrewd and alert. Speaks with authority. (-) Tactless, rude. Superiority.

Could signify an actual male under 40 about to enter my life. Alternatively, might represent aspects of myself that may need balancing.

Interpretation: Oh wow, this is definitely me; I need to ease up. I have a tendency (particularly on days like this) to want everything done according to how I feel it ought to be. We have to be places at specific times, which tends to mean coordinating a variety of efforts and hoping they come off exactly as I need them to. But this stresses me out. Inevitably I am the one being hyper vigilant while everyone else is easing along. Today I need to ease along. I need to make room for other people's styles and "ways of being", and maybe even adopt their viewpoint for my own.

And so I need to relax and go with the flow. Straining against the tide does not make the waves crash any faster, it only stresses me out. This is going to be a good week, and it will start soon enough. No need for negativism! Positivism and diplomacy is the key.

Daily Tarot: Friday

Eight of Cups.

Definition: Disappointment. Dissatisfaction. Tired of current situation. You have a bad attitude. Take action. Indicates travel or relocation -- leaving one situation for another. Look elsewhere for happiness. Make dramatic changes in your life. Carry through with plans.

Personal interpretation: Makes a lot of sense. I've felt extremely stuck for the last one to two weeks. Like a blanket was laid over me, blocking out the sunshine. It's been hard to navigate around it. (It's why I haven't been pulling my own tarot of late, because I know I will get cards like this. ) I wouldn't be surprised if some of this stems from my health issues. I sense balance is around the corner, but who knows when I reach the corner? I think I need to make better health choices, and be much more proactive taking care of myself.

I then pulled another card to cover the Eight of Cups (a cover card gives deeper information/guidance), and received the:


Two of Wands.

Definition: Growth of personal power and courage. Commanding the respect and attention of others. Embark on new adventures. Act decisively. Research before making decisions. New, creative ideas needed for success. Commit all your energy to new projects. Pioneering. Singular style.

Personal Interpretation: I think this feel of stagnation stems from intellectual and professional pursuits, or lack thereof. I also feel the deep need for a change of scenery, and even social circumstances. Sometimes I'm just tired of Chicago. I want to move somewhere where there's nature and I can have more land, and where there are people of like mind with whom I can interact. It gets to me sometimes, all the people and craziness. I also need to focus my purpose; figure out exactly what it is I want to do. I'm contemplating further education to strengthen myself. Maybe I need a mentor?

Sometimes people provoke me

How do I know I'm out of alignment with the universe? That my heart part is disconnected from the God part?

Well, it's when preposterous douchecicles cut me off in traffic, or go ten minutes below the speed limit in front of me, or tailgate me so closely I get pregnant, or yes, my favorite, take my spot in line at the three way stop. A spot I worked for. A spot I earned.

Today, case in point, at the familiar three way stop near my neighborhood, a lovely butch woman with a mullet and a Chevy Capris pulled up to the intersection way after me and then had the audacity to GO before me. She just WENT. My jugular almost burst right out of my neck.

With enough preparation I might have firebombed her (which I did do, in my mind), or even honked at her real long and crazy-like (such as I'd done about fifteen minutes earlier when some Suzie Cheerleader did the same damned thing to me), but I didn't, determined not to have my kid see the blatant spiritual misalignment in me. The part of me that wanted to vandalize an awful woman's miserable Capris, and also shave her head.

And so instead I just threw up my hands when she lazily looked my way, letting her know I thought she was the biggest douchenozzle on the whole entire planet, in the history of ever, which she was. And her? What did she do? She laughed. SHE JUST LAUGHED.

Oh, well played, horrible lesbian Chevy Capris driver. I used to be you, laughing at the tense and angry masses as they tailgated rudely and then screamed in their cars as I slowed my roll by ten or fifteen mph, trapping them behind me. I used to make sure they saw me giggling or dancing too, apparently alive and vibrant with delight, just so I could make their head implode. Like mine almost did today, when you did that.

Oh how the tides have turned

Thoreau

So I walked to the coffee shop today. I realize this is not heady, intriguing information, but still. I walked in recognition of my own personal gas tank, in recognition of the oil cartels, in recognition of the polar bears who apparently need some recognition up in here. I walked because my ass needed to walk in the first place, and because it was gorgeous outside, and because I ought to be rewarded after every single walk with a caramel high rise latte that costs five whole dollars. I walked because as a human I in fact have two legs and ought to, if you think about it, walk with them. And so I walked for inspiration. I walked for despair. I walked until I couldn't walk anymore, and then I watched Judge Joe Brown.

Thought

"You know, all mystics - Catholic, Christian, non-Christian, no matter what their theology, no matter what their religion - are unanimous on one thing: that all is well, all is well. Though everything is a mess, all is well. Strange paradox, to be sure. But, tragically, most people never get to see that all is well because they are asleep. They are having a nightmare."
-- Anthony De Mello

From an earlier discussion:

This is a male gene, I am finally coming to realize. And hey, it's not a criticism. Like, there are tons of other very rad male genes, such as the ones that motivate them to protect and secure. Hunt and gather. But then there are the lame genes too, like the one where they should know you need affection when you are crying, but they don't. Sometimes they are purposely obtuse (which is what I often call my very own lovin' man) or just plain unobservant. They need to be told; wtf. How is it their amazing powers of observation which work so winningly in hunting and gathering somehow break down when we are in the room and need them to take out the trash or hey, give us a hug?

Mind boggling, I am telling you what.

Again, true or false? Discuss.

My birthday is better than everybody else's birthday

My birthday was actually rad. Well, the actual birthday day part was a little non-eventful, but the day after, when Mike came home from Barcelona, it got a lot better. See, because he brought me gifts. In case I've never mentioned it before, I wholly approve of gifts, although in particular the ones that are given to me.

I got a 14 cup Cuisinart food processor. I cook a lot and I like to use good quality instruments when cooking. But mainly I wanted the Cuisinart because my brother has one just like it and I wanted a newer, fancier, more awesome one than he has. This isn't a competition, but I'm winning.

I also got a spice rack. Lord knows I needed it; we lost a lot of storage when we trashed our kitchen island. I've got literally dozens upon dozens of spices shoved into cabinets and can never find any of them. By the time I do, they're past their prime and I'm telling you, what a money pit! Good spices aren't cheap! And so now I am organized. I have a fabulous new spice rack that is color coordinated with my new Cuisinart which, in case I haven't mentioned, is way better than my brother's.

But the best gift omg? Mike got me six spa pedicures (a spa pedicure is better than a regular pedicure, in case that wasn't clear) and six 90 minute Swedish massages (and a 90 minute massage is better than a 60 -- oh, you get the picture). I about barfed in my mouth from all the excitement. Imagine it! Six whole delicious massages wherein I lie on a table and have someone rub me with oil and make me feel good! And six whole spa pedicures where nice women rub my feet and calves with sea salts that smell like gardenias and then paint my toes pretty colors! It is divine! It's heaven! It's all for me!

I should stop there, because I hate to brag.

True or False

Please, if you will, stare long and hard at the picture above. Note the lean line of the male's body as well as the tell-tale "cut" running from his shiny, lanky side straight down to his nether regions. Examine it. Study it. It's not meant to offend. Really, this is a controversy.

Now, I happen to think this picture has its merits. It was provided to me by the lovely California Jen who, like myself, has a bit of a fondness for lanky, baby-oiled men. I received it and immediately approved. I then, however, made the mistake of forwarding the shot on to one of my friends who happens to have a peepee, who then turned around and immediately protested. Those are photoshopped abdominals, he said. That line isn't really a line, it's an enhanced shadow. And then, I know because I used to have way better abs than that guy, and my cut was real, not fake like that faker's fake line.

Could this be true?
And does it even matter?