I'm having a senior moment.....

I’m getting a sneak preview into what it’s like to be aged. My days are spent wistfully rolling from one gentle activity to another, which is the good part. However, I’ve had moments of frustration and helplessness at my inability to lift anything heavier than a kettle. Being dependent can also make you feel useless, but thank god that’s balanced out by a growing sense of compassion for anyone with limited movement.

On Sunday I went for my first outing and was duly driven (Miss Daisy style) to the beach. Heaven, a change of scenery and a chance to take photos, paint and relax on my lounge chair. The downside, I didn’t think it wise to go into the water and the loo was a lengthy 500 yards away! I knew I could make it there, but after the 40 minute drive and sitting painting for an hour, the walk back was dubious at best. Luckily my call of nature arrived at the same time my chauffer came in from his surfing session!

Is it just me...or are the coconut and boys head, interchangeable?

Bolstered by my progress into the great outdoors, I decided today was as good as any other to get back behind the wheel. As I reached the end of the road I felt as if I’d dug out of Colditz with my bent metal spoon. Upon slowly turning left I knew I was driving toward the sweet nirvana of all prisoners, freedom! Clutch, shift, and accelerate, or dear it was official…… in just three short weeks I had become a bonafide overly cautious old lady driver and wouldn’t be going far!

I shuffled into Pukalani Superette and knew I was on borrowed time. Basket = excess weight so I gathered my tomatoes, yogurt, broccoli, lettuce and snap peas in hand, trying to carefully pick up less than a kettle of water’s weight in food. I didn’t succeed......

Deflated and a bit pouty I limped home, made my lunch and headed for a nap, only to be woken twenty minutes later by the gardener. Drat and double drat. A seniors life is a narrow one, we whine about the little things like ‘nap interruption’ because to us it’s a major part of our day. We want to hear all your details because we don’t have many of our own and our health becomes of paramount importance because without it, we can’t fully contribute or play without discomfort as we'd wish.

Well, now that's out of my system I can say 'bloody hell woman, quit your whingeing it could be sooooooooooooo much worse!'

Night Vision.

This was as far as I got with the lunar eclipse last night before my bed seemed like the better option.

Not to be outdone, the sun was going through its own celestial spectacle!

When last I was at sea level.....

From my vantage point on the 'lunch stump' at Kanaha, I could hear this little girl squealing with delight as her Dad wrung out the last of his forearm juice in the age old game of 'swing your kids around until one of you gets sick'!
My, my, Fred Hayward is a big boy.
If only I'd seen the owner of this two wheel jalopy, I suspect he'd be just as interesting as his mode of transport. I'm also noting my assumption that he's a 'he'......nah I'm right, even on Maui this just isn't a chicks look!
It's a cardinal sin to be a dirty bird.

Better late than never.

So here’s the thing, when 25 of your amazing friends throw a surprise ‘British Invasion’ party in your honor…..one is not always prepared with a handy birthday party camera. Such was the case for me back in January and having just received a CD of evidence from said festivities my post is a day late and 6 months short of its proper time slot. Luckily, no one bloody cares!

My wonderful friend Chelsea was the brainchild behind the 60’s bash and clearly the Patron had already been flowing before my arrival. In my naïve little mind, I was picking Chelsea up for a few hours hang out in Wailuku….that should have been my first clue something was up!

Amongst the guests were four of my best mates who'd jetted in from the mainland for the weekend. Bloody hell that’s good.... Click on 'view all images' if you want a better look at these pici's.

Everything went according to plan, I was surprised & in shock, I cried, I laughed, I drank Patron and then Ulli pooed a piece of cake onto Sid’s chest and the birthday girl got to eat it! All good clean family fun.

I still don’t feel like I’ve clearly expressed how gob smacked and touched I was by every ones love, energy and creativity that went into an organizing such an amazing birthday. My mainland chums slummed it at Mama’s for the weekend and this was the view the morning they left. Many thanks to Imants for being official photographer and giving us all this stunning visual of Kuau on a Kona storm, not too shabby.

What difference did 10 years make?

I first learned to windsurf at the Berkley Marina and after work in San Francisco I would take a cable car, BART (Bay Area Rapid Transit) and a bus to my lessons. You’d think between the skanky water, the commute and the damp wetsuits that I’d have given up, but no, I loved it!

I finally got my own gear and while I was always a tentative sailor, still had fun dodging the metal shite jutting out of the filth at flying tigers. I looked forward to the weekend excursions searching for wind and because I wasn’t that good, was happy even if the air streams were elusive.

Let’s see, tortoise or hare……what can I say I’m the tortoise in most things. So how I got the misconception that moving to Maui would make me a 'windsurfing hare' is beyond me! As a scapegoat for me quitting the sport, my ex-husband came in quite handy. Sure he was unsupportive, critical of my slow progress and uninterested in everything associated with my sailing day, but (truth be told) walking away from the sport had more to do with quitting him than anything else. Not to mention the fact that it was way more difficult to sail on Maui than anywhere else I’d tried and I couldn't fucking jibe, no matter how many lessons I took from John Crews!

So I did the only sane thing anyone would do, I divorced ‘the unhelpful one’ and bought a mountain bike!

Fast forward 10 years and the windsurfing gods sent me another opportunity to play. I started hanging out with good sailors and the desire to hook-in came back. Ego and age were my only obstacles as I was the oldest beginner I knew hanging out with those who had stayed in relationship with the sport for the last 10 years. I keep wondering "if I'd stuck with it surely I could have at least mastered the jibe in that time"? Oh little tortoise, at your speed, not necessarily!

Wotdafuck, on some level it was easy, I just threw myself under the bus for the laugh and went for it (how quickly one forgets the pouty tantrums!). I’m still sailing like a girl, but most importantly I’m now having fun. My good mate Giampaolo did the honor of filming me prior to my going into dry dock for a month. So, this diatribe is my l.o.n.g. introduction to the masterpiece you are about to witness.

So, what difference did 10 years make? Proficiency wise-not much! The tortoise is basically at the same stage she was 10 years ago, but with a new enthusiastic audience and a much better attitude, it’s an entirely different world.

Raindrops.

I’m happy to report that this is as much of Hurricane Flossie as we saw. It won’t have cured our drought, but I can still hear my parched lawn smacking its blades of grass together in thirst quenching appreciation.

Sign of the times.

Gosh, recuperation isn’t all bad. My days are effortlessly filled amusing myself (see exhibit A above), religiously napping twice a day, reading “Middlesex’ which is the best novel I’ve read in a while, watching a bit of BBC America, eating healthy food, chatting with friends, catching up on Posh & Becks via ‘Hello’ mags (thanks Mum), walking s.l.o.w.l.y. around my house and most importantly figuring out if I’m swanky, skanky or cranky!

Now this might come as a bit of a shocker but the quiz says I’m swanky…. it must be the drugs because all I can think of when I look at this photo is ‘anyone for Penrith’?!

I've got to get out, ferns are beginning to grow on my brain............

Ovary share.

I thought of it less as a trip to the hospital and more like a 46,000 mile service! Anyway, I’ll spare you the details but suffice to say it’s an amazing thing that not ovary part of your body is required. So this week they removed a bit of mine that was deemed no longer worthy and I’m recuperating at home and doing great.

It was just a quick 72 hour mini-break at the hospital and after the main event the first drug they give you is morphine. It must have done more than numb the pain as here I am smoking an imaginary post op cigi, and I don’t even smoke!

Poor Cheyenne, he arrived right when I needed a wee and I wouldn’t let him have his way and push the nurse aid button! I’m sure he’s still doing his best to forget his part in the whole ‘assisting incident’ so the least I could do was let him mess with the white board!

And finally Jimmy Choo they are not.......but what they lack in sex appeal these little Pneumatic Booties make up for in comfort. Brilliant.

Throwing myself under the bus for a laugh; Part 47

What the hell, as we all know ‘wet’ is not my best look so I decided I might as well go all out and add a swim cap & goggles (the Jean Claude Killy design are particularly fetching). All together now...GORGEOUS!

I took the little gopro to the pool for a swimsuit addition of my own and had a blast. I’ve mentioned before that I didn’t learn to swim until I was 39 and I only bring it up again to validate my crappy technique! The filming part was easy, the editing part.....not so. Bloody hell, I spent way too much time on this little thing and finally decided for forgo perfection for what you’re about to receive. May the Lord make us truly thankful it's a once in a while past time!

So without further ado......ladies and gentlemen, may I present (drum roll please) ME in the Pukalani Pool!

PS:Niki Viva la cuffia!


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