Raining in Paradise

I find it very hard to blog on vacation. I have three entries marinating in my Edit Posts section that I've written in my mind and only made notes on while actually at a computer.

I don't know what it is. I feel like I have lots of free time on vacation, but I can't think of any time I've just been sitting on my ass thinking, 'what on earth can I do now'. But then, I don't feel like I've done three million things. I think I just move at a slower pace here. Or on vacation. Or something. Hawai'i can do that to you. Make you move slower. That hang loose aloha way or something.

Actually, it drives my New York state of mind self batty now. No where more than Longs. It's a drug store. Kind of like Duane Reade in New York. Rite Aid. CVS. Eckerd. That kind of place. Except in Hawai'i you can get three million kinds of mac nuts, fresh mochi, senbei, slippas, Mahalo notecards and Men of Hawai'i calendars. A lovely place. I go at least five times per visit home. I went tonight. With my Dad. And even when it's not crowded you get little traffic jams with people standing around staring at a pack of noodles for five minutes with seven relatives and/or friends hovered around them. Or people with giant shopping carts (it is a drug store, just like Duane Reade, not a grocery store or a giant department store, but they have grocery carts) blocking the tiny aisles. And everyone is just plugging along, waiting patiently for space to clear. And I just want to yell, "GET THE FUCK OUTTA MY WAY!!!" because patience is a virtue and I am far from virtuous. Though, I guess I never have yelled that at a nice old man using his body and his cart to block two aisles while deciding between beef jerky flavors. I've only done that in my mind. While throttling him. In my mind.

Anyway, I don't remember that bothering me when I lived here. Or even when I'd come back from University breaks. It's only been the last few years that I've stood in line at the check-out counter wanting to quickly explain to the cashier that no one gives a rat's ass as to how much she likes whatever soury/sweet goodness she's bagging for the woman ahead of me and can she just shut up and take her money and get going already! Um, sorry. I'm a bad person and have no Aloha Spirit. Or Southern Charm. Or whatever I used to have that made me swear less in my mind. I don't know. This isn't even what I think I set out to write.

Vacation hurts my brain. Either that or the painful game of Book Lovers Trivial Pursuit my family just failed to finish. We used to think we were a bright family. Until now. Though Dad claims the box says "for book worms" and we are just book readers. My dad is cute. But I actually knew lots of things, just none of the questions they read to me. They even had questions on the fairy porn author as well as one on a transgendered author I read about just this afternoon in Bitch. I kept getting all the dyke author questions right. Think my parents my now be starting to suspect...?

Ooooh, I think the rain might be easing. Wonder if we can see the moon now...

Oh, y'all should email Mom tomorrow if you get a chance. She's turning older tomorrow.

Happy Birthday (early) Mommy!