The Race Ain't Gonna Run Itself

This year, my new year's resolution is really an extension of my "move to Hawaii" resolution, and that is, to work out. Not a lot, but some. I was really motivated when I first moved here because A) I was unemployed and 2) I had just downloaded some really good workout songs. But then I got a job and totally quit going to the gym. And then one super early morning on my way to work, my bus route took a serious detour to accommodate the Honolulu Marathon and I thought, whoa, these folks are seriously dedicated to their running. I was mostly annoyed that I had no idea where my bus was going, but I was a teensy bit jealous.

A few weeks ago, Katie got inspired to sign up for the Great Aloha Run -- an eight-mile affair. I laughed, but upon her urging, starting looking for races to that seemed a little more within reach. Like a 1K. But most 1Ks are for kids 10 and under. I did, however, find a biathlon, a run/swim, which seems totally do-able. And hey, if Peyton Manning, arguably the most unathletic yet highly accomplished athlete on the planet, can run for 38 yards, surely I can run a 5K. Well, run/walk a 5K.

And, a huge perk to "training" is buying really comfy exercise pants. I really love wearing comfy exercise pants. Also, it's really helping that I don't live a half-mile away from Dunkin Donuts and Chick-Fil-A. Although, if I'm being completely honest, I still crave a #1 with no pickle and a Coke every once in a while.

February 13th is going to be here before I know it. Now, all I have to do is brave the Hawaiian winter so I can do my outdoor swim training and all will be well.

P.S. Aren't you just a teensy bit jealous that I live somewhere where one can actually run a race and do an open water swim in the middle of February?

All I'm Missing is a Fanny-Pack

While my dearest friends and loved ones have been freezing their bums off back on the mainland, I've been doing my best to take advantage of the sunny days here on Oahu. After a pretty rainy December, I trekked to the beach the last couple of days to freshen up my tan. By the way, a teensy amount of jealousy is expected.

There was a jellyfish warning around the island, so our trip to the North Shore Thursday didn't involve any swimming. In fact, we never even took our swimsuit cover-ups off. The sun was shining and the waves were crashing, but it was a little bit on the chilly side. Chilly, mind you, in the loosest sense of the word. But, the kids had fun playing in the sand and we watched a riveting sand volleyball match. After shaking the sand out of our hair and lady parts, we went to a yummy seafood/Mexican restaurant called Luibuenos. So delish!

On our way home, we took a left turn into the Dole Plantation because Katie really wanted a t-shirt. Our t-shirt stop turned into a pretty big excursion. Next thing I know, we're waiting in line for the Pineapple Express, a train that tours the pineapple fields. The kids were so excited to ride on the train, even though it meant postponing naptime. We learned about all things pineapple and were treated to the musical stylings of Manoa DNA, a local group. All I really wanted from the trip to the plantation was a waffle cone of pineapple froyo, but the line seemed to weave off into the distance and we didn't have the time to wait. I left, a little disheartened, but overall it was a fun little adventure.

On NYE, instead of the traditional hydration rituals that most people partake in prior to binge alcohol consumption, I packed my beach bag and rode the bus to Waikiki. After hitting up Starbucks for a (discounted!) venti iced caramel latte, I found a spot next to the hotel with the best music blasting from its poolside bar and laid down my towel, content to spend a few hours listening to my ipod on shuffle and digging my toes in the sand. The beach was quite crowded, the holiday tourists not yet departed from the island, but it was fun. It might sound mean, but perhaps the best part of my day was watching the tourists take surf lessons. Just when you think they're gonna stand, a tiny white-water wave knocks 'em over. Hehe...

2010 Ends The Same as 2009 -- Early

While I was laying on the beach yesterday, New Year's Eve, I thought back to a decade of New Year's Eve celebrations. I'm going to flat-out say that I think NYE is the lamest holiday ever. Katie and I seem to have a really, really terrible track record with NYE celebrations, dating back to 98-99. I feel the need to justify my hatred of the holiday, so I'm going to recap a decade of lameness in none other than a list. A Top 10 list of crappy, hyped-up nights that turn out to be epic letdowns.

Turning to 99: Pretty sure that's the year Katie got stood up. Sorry to bring up bad memories, but that's really when it all started to suck for me. For us, really, because my bestie's a recurring character in many of these stories.

Y2K: Let's just say my mom and her friends decided it would be a great idea to host a dance (they were thinking along the lines of prom, but it turned out to be more like 12 people swaying while we rolled eyes at our mothers and were totally embarrassed that we had to be there). Pretty sure the highlight of that night was...wait, there were no highlights from that night. Other than mocking the entire night with Katie.

2001: Utterly forgettable. Not totally forgettable, actually. We went to see Castaway as a family and then I spent the evening with "The One That Got Away." (Katie's older brother, Matt, who I happened to be dating at the time)

2002: Katie and I tried to get a hotel room so we could ring in the new year drinking alone. It was a good idea in theory, but we weren't old enough to get a hotel room, and we definitely weren't old enough to drink. I think there was bribery involved with my mom or her mom or something. Pretty sure we wound up drinking in the living room and commiserating about the crappiness of the night.

2003: Really, seriously, forgettable. And, since Katie's sitting right here, I asked her what we did. Her response? "We probably had a slumber party at your mom's house. We probably had a few drinks and slept on the couch and the following morning, I probably got in my car and went home."

2004: I got my wisdom teeth out on Dec. 30 and my memories are pretty sketchy. I remember Katie and Garry stopped by to say "hi" and that was it.

2005: You would think that our first NYE as 21-year-olds would have been really exciting, but it wasn't. Katie and I road-tripped to Nashville to party with Jackie and Brother and the actual NYE is a total blank. The only thing I remember from that trip is Jackie sending us out for eggs and it taking so long that Katie and I had to stop at Sbarro a block away from their apartment to buy a small snack. And by small snack, I mean we each ate an entire slice of pizza.

2006: Probably the best NYE of the decade. I rang it in with my college besties in Chicago at Howl at the Moon. We got gussied up and braved the cold and slutty girls in tube tops to have a great time. And we did, if you can forget the girl vomiting in the corner all night. In fact, so much fun was had that we overslept and I almost missed my train back to M.C.

2007: Laurie, my oldest college roommate, came to the Twin Cities with me. It was a disaster. There was a blizzard and it was Sunday so we couldn't even buy alcohol. We wound up at the Part Tavern with a pathetic looking bunch of folks.

2008: Party at Laura's! I remember I wore a really cute red turtleneck. And there was Nintendo playing. I remember little else.

2009: Jackie, Brother and I painted Liam's nursery. And went to bed before 10pm.

2010: I dropped Laura and Tess off at the airport and went home. And went to bed before 10pm.

2011: Katie and I played a rousing game of Would You Rather... and drank some Middle Sister wicked white wine with a mimosa chaser and went to bed before 10pm.

For me, NYE is totally lame. I don't wait for the ball drop or worry about sober drivers. I stay in and get comfy and don't worry what people think about my lameness. It's just another night.

Public Transportation Year in Review

Not sure why, but things just seem so much more fun when compiled into a Top 10 list at the end of the year. So, at the request of my many, er, two, followers, here's a glimpse at my life since boarding TheBus three glorious months ago.

The Top 10 Reasons I Love Riding TheBus:

10. When I catch the 40 or 62, they end their routes at Starbucks, which means I can fall asleep on the bus and not worry about missing my stop.
9. The sense of camaraderie among the riders when a reckless driver cuts off the bus. There's never any shortage of head shakes and back slaps when two dozen commuters narrowly escape certain death.
8. Generally, I'm the only non-local (read: white girl) on the bus, which means nobody ever wants to sit next to me. I almost always get a bench to myself. I mean, discrimination is wrong and awful and have we gotten nowhere since electing a black president...but it's kind of nice to have space to stretch my legs.
7. Since there's no eating or drinking on TheBus, I'm forced to throw out what's usually a calorie-laden, whip cream-topped espresso beverage before I've slurped it all. It's a good thing, really.
6. The bus driver that calls me "Sis."
5. No one ever requests a stop at the Honolulu Community Corrections Center.
4. I'm gathering a nice little collection of shiny bus passes.
3. Somehow, even in rush hour traffic, the bus always seems to make great time. And I'm spared from road rage and unnecessary honking and middle finger flipping.
2. I've learned how to pronounce loads of Hawaiian street names that I never would have been able to say. Quiz me. I dare ya.
1. When I miss a bus, I know there's always another one behind it. Except for when I miss the 4:02am bus, then another one doesn't come until 5:12am.

And a few reasons I don't love the TheBus:
3. Rain. Pouring. Sideways. Puddles. Any kind of moisture really bums me out.
2. In a recent, totally unscientific experiment I conducted, I drew the conclusion that chivalry is dead. At least among bus riders on the 19, 20, 40, 40A, 42, and 62. Why do I have to give up my seat so a sweet old Japanese lady can sit down when there are no fewer than 4 able-bodied, early twentysomething men who should have given her their seats? Sad.
1. The loud, insulting homeless people. Case in point: While riding the 19, a route that drives past the homeless shelter, to work a few weeks ago, a man boarded and sat next to me. In the 7 minutes that followed, he managed to push everyone that walked past him, insult a majority of the passengers, including me, and almost start a fight. After he told me to "Get off! Get off and button your shirt, you whore!" I did exactly as he asked (although I refused to button the top button of my polo shirt which apparently makes me a slut but probably would have cut off my airway). I exited the bus, like, 15 stops before I needed to and waited for another one to come by. I am so thankful for Katie, who tells me everyday when I leave for work, to "travel safely." Her words stuck in my mind as worst-case scenarios kept flashing in my slightly overdramatic brain. And when I told her about my run-in with the bus bully? She told me I was the anti-whore. And that I made a smart choice by getting off the bus. And I wasn't even late for work!

It's Christmas Once Again in Honolulu

Seriously, the title of the post is lyrics to my new favorite Christmas song. Sadly, it's not available for download on iTunes, otherwise I would have gifted it to all my closest friends and family. Google it, you won't be disappointed.

Sitting inside the house, I'm snuggled in a new cozy blanket that I got for Christmas from my Mama. We had a weak moment last night and opened some gifts, and I'm sure glad I opened the blanket. There's a cold front moving in, temps in the upper 70s to low 80s. With the stockings hung and the tree lit, when the blinds are closed, we can hardly tell we live in Hawaii.

We're officially a "My Two Moms" household. Garry left on his deployment so it's just me, Katie and the babies. I've been working a lot of hours leading up to the holidays, so it's been kind of stressful, but we're getting by. Most helpful has been the DVR full of cheesy holiday movies from Lifetime and Hallmark. We have sort of an unspoken rule -- record everything and give it the 30-minute treatment. Usually during the second commercial break, we decide whether to invest any more of our time in the movie, and, usually, the answer is a loud "Heck no!" But it's fun and gives us something to do with our evenings.

Stay tuned for my "Month in Public Transportation" post coming soon. It's good stuff, really.

PT Week in Review

My Week Riding Public Transportation:

Monkey Man: the driver on 40 donned a monkey mask to cheer up a sad kid on the bus. I found him quite silly and charming. The driver, not the kid.

Queen: the aforementioned 40 driver ran no fewer than 3 red lights mere days after I found him to be quite silly and charming. Wanna know what he sang as he played fast and loose with the lives of 32 Hawaiians? "We Are the Champions." No joke. Doesn't he know he's carrying precious cargo? I will no longer be riding the 40 when you're at the helm, Mr. No Longer Quite Silly And Charming.

The horn on the bus goes beep, beep, beep: especially when a crazy Camry speeds through a red light and almost hits my dear 42 head-on. Fortunately, no one was hurt, as we discovered in a poll when the bus driver hollered, "Everyone a'ight?" We mumbled our yeahs while those who drew short straws and had to stand picked themselves up off the ground and dusted the dirt off their khakis and floral print button-up shirts. We banded together like survivors from Oceanic 815 (minus the smoke monster and the others and the tailies--okay, maybe not like "Lost" at all, maybe more like the passengers on that plane that landed in the Hudson) and shook our fists at the Camry, cursed his driving, and cheered our very own Chesley Sullenberger.

Odoriferous Afternoon: let's just say that Hawaiian Tropic doesn't mix so well with what I can only assume was a Spamburger. Add a dash of pungent body odor and the lingering smell of urine and that was my Friday afternoon rush hour ride home. Ick.

I know it might not seem like it, but I had a really fantastic week on PT. I look forward to more adventures on TheBus!

Life's a Beach

On Saturday, I had the day off from barista-ing and I decided to explore the island. Alone. I embarked on what we're calling my maiden "Independent Adventure." Things started off wonderfully and ended with a startling peck from a stray chicken. Seriously.

After consulting with my island contacts (ie: roomies Kate and Garry), I decided to bus it to the North Shore to spend the day at a not-so-kid-friendly beach. Waimea Bay is gorgeous, but the waves are huge and there's no shallow water for the kiddies to play in. After a near-disastrous bus transfer (apparently the driver decided not to call the upcoming stops so it was a crapshoot as to where I was) I de-bussed the 62 and boarded the 52. Over the mountains, through the pineapple fields, to the gorgeous beach I go...

I de-bussed again a few stops before my final destination because I found a gorgeous view of the mountains. And no, I have no idea who the sole paddle-boarder is.

After a short ride on a super narrow and windy road, I came upon Waimea Bay, quickly becoming my favorite Hawaii beach. The water is gorgeous, the waves provide endless hours of entertainment, and the sun is hot. Now, you must understand that beaching alone is not for amateurs. You have to pick the right spot, not next to a family with loads of kids who are going to kick sand on you. You also want to avoid really old couples who just stare at things -- the water, people, rocks, etc. You don't want them just staring at you as you discreetly try to dislodge sand from your lady parts. Although it might seem ideal to set up base camp next to a pack of good-looking twenty-something men, it's really not. All they want to talk about is who makes more money and who has the best abs. Believe me, I've made this mistake before. So, I casually laid my towel down between two vacationing couples who seemed so enamored with their lovers that they'd never notice my sand removal techniques. On one dip in the ocean, I even (almost) rubbed noses with a giant sea turtle. It swam right under me and I let out an extremely girlie yelp. I'm not proud of what I did, but it happens. And dude, those things are ginormous.

After several hours (and after exhausting all of my snacks), I rode the bus into the town of Hale'Iwa for a little lunch and some shopping. I ate a delicious Chicken Parmesan sandwich from Spaghettini and wandered through the surf shops, pondering what it might actually be like to surf. And then, a little girl walked by with an ice cream cone and I became distracted. I found Island Ice Cream, where homemade tropical flavors abound. It was a toss-up between Kona Koffee, Pineapple cheesecake, and Coconut Cream. Yeah, I went with the Coconut. In a waffle cone. With chocolate chips. And it was delectable. I took my ice cream cone and my tanned, relaxed self to the bus stop, where I devoured my cone under the shade of a palm tree.

And then I felt a peck, followed by another girlie yelp. I looked down and saw a wild (I assume) chicken pecking around my feet. Really? Really.

Stay tuned for future Independent Adventure recaps. I know, I know, they're riveting.