Paul and I just returned from a trip to Maui! We decided to escape the gloomy, rainy Northwest winter weather for a week, and headed off to Hawaii for some sunshine and fun.
We flew first-class on Alaska Airlines, which is seriously the only way to fly. The morning we flew out, we enjoyed breakfast in Alaska’s Executive Boardroom, where we were treated to free drinks and food (among other things, they had a pancake machine that produced organic, 97% fat free pancakes…only 160 calories for 2!). Once we boarded our flight, we were given another round of drinks, followed by a delicious breakfast once we were airborne. The first class seating was roomy and comfortable, and by the time we landed on Maui I definitely felt like I was on vacation.
We checked into our condo (we are owners through Worldmark), which was located in the town of Kihei. Once we checked in, we drove north for dinner and some shopping in Lahaina, which has a great downtown atmosphere as well as a giant banyan tree that covers a full acre.
Sunday morning, we got up early to catch a boat and do some whale watching with the Pacific Whale Foundation. PWF is a nonprofit organization that was founded in 1980 to save whales from extinction. I definitely recommend them for whale watching tours because they give you tons of great information about the whales, as well as being great at finding them!
 

On Monday we loaded up for a different type of adventure…we drove up to the summit of Haleakala to watch the sunrise. It was cold up there, not what you’d think when you think of Hawaii…but the view was breathtaking. If you’re going to head up for sunrise, I recommend taking a flashlight (being able to see where you’re going is always fun), wearing warm clothes (think layers…you’ll definitely need a jacket!), and a nice big thermos of hot coffee. Being a little cold is totally worth it for the view you’ll get at 10,000 feet!

Paul and I at sunrise…do we look cold?
 
On Tuesday, we went to Makena Landing for an early-morning kayak and snorkeling tour. While we waited on the beach (we arrived a little early), we saw some dolphins playing and jumping, as well as a sea turtle. I was already excited at the marine life we were seeing. Then we got to head out in kayaks, which Paul and I love doing. We paddled out a ways, then we put on our snorkel gear and dove off the boats to do a little swimming and snorkeling. We got to see more turtles, lots of brightly colored fish, and even an octopus! Paul liked snorkeling so much that he rented gear for the rest of the week and spent some time nearly every day out snorkeling, seeing turtles and fish.
Wednesday, we embarked on the epic drive on the Road to Hana. The drive is just as beautiful as those who have done it before us described, and I would say that it is best done in a convertible (we had a convertible Mustang). We saw some fantastic waterfalls and, once we made it into Hana, a great black sand beach. My tip to anyone doing the drive to Hana is to get yourself a room in Hana for the night, rather than trying to drive there and back in a day. If you don’t break up the drive, I think you’ll miss some great sights and feel a little too stressed out. Paul and I opted to stay at the Travaasa Resort. To say that this place was the lap of luxury is understating it big time. The staff treats you like you’re Hawaiian royalty, the grounds are beautiful, and the amenities are never-ending. I could definitely get used to resort living (pocketbook allowing, of course). We had planned on getting up early Thursday morning and heading out to catch sunrise before making our way to the Seven Sacred Pools, but we woke up to driving rain. So we changed our plans, slept in, then sat out on our covered patio with coffee and the loaf of fresh banana bread that the resort had provided us. Once the rain eased up, we checked out and resumed our drive, stopping here and there to look at some beautiful waterfalls.

 
We stopped for a hike when we reached the Seven Sacred Pools, also known as the O’heo Gulch Pools. Spoiler alert, there are not seven pools and they are not sacred. The Gulch was renamed in this fashion to attract tourists. That said, the waterfalls cascading into pools are breathtakingly beautiful and definitely worth a visit.
When you read about the Road to Hana, you’ll find story upon story about how you can’t continue the whole way around the island, how it’s treacherous and you’ll get stuck, how you’ll have to sign something in your rental car agreement saying you aren’t covered if you go that way, blah blah blah. Truth is, the road is not all that bumpy (if you’ve ever driven on gravel, you can handle this), and even the gravel portions are maintained. There was nothing in our rental car contract saying we couldn’t drive on that road, and we had no problem getting the Mustang around the island that way. People who turn around and go back the way they came are missing out, because contrary to the rumors the backside of the island is very scenic and lovely.
 

Don’t worry, there’s nothing to be scared of.
Friday was our last full day in Maui, so we spent the morning on the beach (me alternating between sunbathing and swimming, Paul snorkeling), before heading into town for one last lunch at one of our favorite places to eat, 808 Deli in Kihei. Go there for the best sandwich you’ve ever had in your life (my personal favorite was the Porkie, which was pulled pork with mango salsa and pepperjack cheese). Then we went back to our condo to get cleaned up and ready for our sunset cruise, which we charted through Alii Nui Maui (we booked it at Maui Dive Shop when Paul rented snorkels). There weren’t any clouds so the sunset itself wasn’t the most spectacular one we’d seen, but the atmosphere on the catamaran was relaxing and romantic. We had drinks and a nice dinner, and one guy named Tom took control of the microphone at one point to propose to his girlfriend Valerie. He’d even hired a photographer and snuck him on the boat. This particular proposal is not my style at all, as I would not want that many strangers around me congratulating me, but hey, good for Tom and Valerie. I was just happy to drink too many Mai Tais and have some delicious food and white chocolate macadamia nut cookies for dessert!
We had a fantastic vacation and we are already talking about going back to Hawaii. There was so much to see and do that we couldn’t squeeze everything into a week!
 
 

A couple of weeks ago, a longtime friend of mine posted a picture of her new ring on Facebook, along with the post “I said yes!” to announce her engagement. I was psyched for her, especially since things have been a little rough for her this year, and was glad to see her finding happiness. I figured what would happen next would be the typical onslaught of posts about dresses, caterers, venues, color schemes, etc. This is what I usually see on Facebook after an engagement is announced.
What I did NOT expect was what happened: she and her now-husband went to the courthouse last weekend and tied the knot. She wore a white sweatshirt that said Bride on the back, they filled out their paperwork, and they had cute little cupcakes on the front steps of the courthouse. When I heard about the whole thing, I expected myself to think along the lines of, Wow, I would never do it that way. Instead, I was surprised to discover that I found her simple approach at her nuptials refreshing.
(Please note, to those of you that had elaborate weddings or even middle-of-the-road weddings, I am not criticizing you or saying you are wrong, so relax.)
Admittedly, there is a part of me that loves the idea of a romantic wedding, with a dress and a cake and a reception. My bank account, however, finds this idea far more hideous than romantic. I’ve watched wedding shows on TV and some of those brides drop more cash on a dress than I pay for an entire year of rent on my house. I could never justify dropping thousands of dollars on an outfit, especially one I will wear once. I admire my friend for bucking tradition, keeping her ceremony simple, and saving herself a lot of money. She clearly got married for the MARRIAGE, not the wedding, and I admire that. In an open note, she wrote: We decided to get married, and YES! I know to all you judgemental people out there who think going to a court and signing a piece of paper isn’t getting married…but it was just what we needed. I’m sure she’s right, that there are people out there who think her choice was crazy. But I think it’s far crazier to blow a year’s worth of rent money on a party that lasts for a few hours. And I’m really proud of her for following her heart and getting married in the way that works for her, not the way that society says she should.
Congrats, Ben and Jamie. I wish you all the best!
 
 
 

Since November 1st I’ve pretty much been devoting all my writing time to the novel I’m attempting to finish for NaNoWriMo, but something happened this week that has driven me from my novel-creating hidey hole and over to my blog. See, I have this friend Kate that writes a fashion blog, and she received an anonymous email a couple of days ago. The message said: arnt you too fat to write a fashion blog? 
I’m of two minds about how I would have reacted to an email like that. The most likely response would’ve been to blast the asshole in my blog for writing such a mean (and poorly spelled) comment. There’s no reason whatsoever to say something like that to someone who is putting herself out there and daring to share herself with the masses. Alternatively, I may have locked myself in a room with a year’s supply of chocolate and cried. To her credit, Kate’s a better person than I am, and she fired back here and responded back candidly to the person who’d sent her the comment, which took far more (metaphorical, of course) balls than sending some stupid anonymous message ever could have. The response to her post has been overwhelmingly positive, and I’m really proud of her for addressing the anonymous comment.
As a girl who has been everything from a size three to a size thirteen in the last ten years, I have been called both too fat and too thin and can tell you that neither one feels good. Like it or not, there’s a huge focus on body type in our society and I really dislike that there are people out there who feel they ought to put pen to paper, or fingers to keyboard, or whatever, and inform those that do not ask that they are too skinny, too fat, too tall, too short, too whatever.
Fuck you, Anonymous. I don’t care if you’re a man or a woman, a size one or a size one hundred. The thing about making yourself anonymous is that you think no one knows who you are. But we know, Anonymous, Kate and I and everyone else who read that nasty little comment you wrote. We know exactly who you are. You are a giant douche who needs to get a life. Oh, and a dictionary. You need a dictionary, Anonymous. Because it’s spelled AREN’T, not ARNT.

It’s November, and those of my friends who write might already know that NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) is upon us. The idea is simple enough: You get from November 1st to November 30th to write a novel of at least 50,000 words.
Yes, the idea of it sounds daunting. But if you break it down, 50,000 words in thirty days is really only 1,667 words per day. Actually, 1,667 words per day would be 50,010 words in thirty days, but whatever. The point is that even though the big overall number goal sounds scary, it can be broken down into a nicer, smaller, more manageable daily goal. So far I’m keeping up without a lot of difficulty, and I’ve written 5,006 words in the last two days.
My novel probably sucks, but that’s okay. You don’t pound out 50,000 words in 30 days and expect it to be the best thing you ever wrote. You do it so that you can finish a novel. The first time you write it, yes it’s going to have errors and go off on tangents and really it could be awful, but at least you wrote it. Hard part’s done. Once you have a first draft, then said first draft can be rewritten, edited, and made pretty. I’ve been writing this blog for quite awhile and while I really enjoy it, I’ve always had a dream of becoming a famous published author, someone who touches people’s lives the way my favorite authors have touched mine. When I was younger I spent hours locked away in my room, music blasting, writing away. I’d bring my writing to school and let my friends read it, and everyone gave me good feedback and seemed to enjoy my writing. As I’ve gotten older I’ve had a harder time thinking up stories to tell, and I’m hoping NaNoWriMo is just the nudge in the right direction that I needed to get me writing fiction again.
If you want to read excerpts of my sure-to-be-atrocious novel, let me know and I’ll send out updates every 10,000 words or so. In the meantime I’ll try not to neglect my blog too horribly. Happy November!

Yesterday was Halloween! I must admit, I love Halloween. Costumes and candy…what’s not to like?
For work, I didn’t really get all that creative. No one in my work group seemed overly enthusiastic about dressing up, but I couldn’t NOT wear a costume. I have a small box with some wigs and other Halloween attire and as I rummaged through it a few days ago I came up with my old Grocery Outlet apron, which still had my nametag in the pocket. I worked at Grocery Outlet as an after-school job in high school and for a little while in college. It was actually a really fun job that I enjoyed. I decided to resurrect the outfit and went to work as a grocery store cashier.

My costume was cute enough, but I admit I got trounced by the call center admin who came as Honey Boo Boo. You can read about her Halloween adventures here.
After work I headed to Zumba, where the stakes for a good costume were much higher as the winner of the Zumba costume contest would get ten class passes. My friend Angela had constructed a really creative costume for herself and two others during work, and she brought the costume along to Zumba and asked me to join in, along with our other friend Kate. The three of us were Rock Paper Scissors.
 

The costume was really cute and fun! We haven’t heard who the winner of the costume contest was yet but we are very hopeful!
Halloween, in my opinion, was a great success. I had a blast!

Anyone who has known me for any length of time knows that I’m no stranger to changing my hair, and often do it to alleviate boredom. This year I’ve had very long hair that fell halfway down my back, a shorter collarbone-length style, and currently have it in lots of choppy layers. The color has been brown, brown with blonde highlights, entirely blonde…and now that fall is here, I’ve decided it’s time to go back to my, er, roots and dye it red again.
I know that every hairdresser on the planet is cringing when I say that I’m an old friend of box dyes. Yes, yes, you’re not supposed to color your own hair, you’re supposed to go in and have your stylist do it….yada yada yada, blah blah blah. I KNOW. So really there is no one but me to blame for what happened on Saturday morning.
I got up early, watched some tv while munching breakfast, then headed into the bathroom to begin my transformation. I’d chosen a box of copper red, because I wanted a more dramatic change than just blonde to strawberry blonde. I pulled on the little plastic gloves, mixed up the dye, and went to work. I finished up, set the timer, and went off to fold a load of laundry until it was time to rinse my hair.
Fast-forward to me, post-shower, staring at my still-wet strands of hair. I could already tell this wasn’t going to be good. I’ve never actually had a botched dye job before, so I tried to take deep breaths and tell myself it’d be okay once I dried my hair. Determined to prove my nervousness silly, I whipped out the blow dryer and meticulously dried my hair.
Yup, it was orange. Bright, circus clown orange.
YIKES.
I debated what to do. I called my friend Maggie, who colors her hair just as frequently as I do, and asked her advice. She recommended coloring my hair again, this time using a medium brown, but warned me to lay off until tomorrow if I could.
Well, I couldn’t, so I booked my orange-headed ass to Fred Meyer for more hair dye.
Approximately forty minutes later, my hair was colored, rinsed, and dried again. To my relief, it looked normal. A lot darker than I’d originally planned, but it was at least a color found in nature. Now that the shock’s worn off, I actually really like the new color.
I’ll probably wait a couple months before coloring again, to give my hair a chance to recover a bit from the recent assault of dyes. And next time, I may just fork over the cash to bring in a professional to get the job done right.

Last Monday was the bf’s 30th birthday, so we decided to celebrate with a weekend in Seattle. I booked a room at the Paramount Hotel for Saturday and Sunday nights, and we spent the weekend enjoying one of our favorite cities.
Saturday, we got checked into our room (we had a corner room with a nice view of Pine Street) and went to dinner at Dragonfish, an Asian restaurant inside the Paramount. If you haven’t eaten there, you should…it’s delicious! We had planned on going to a different place after dinner to have drinks, but our usual spot was beyond crowded so we ended up back at Dragonfish. They have a fantastic happy hour and we had several drinks that we really enjoyed…my favorite was the Singapore Sling.
Sunday morning dawned sunny and beautiful. We got lattes at Starbucks (after all, we were in Seattle…we had to have coffee!) and then ventured down to Pike Place Market for a breakfast of freshly made mini donuts. After splitting a dozen between us (and vowing that next time we’d split a half dozen, as the donuts were delicious but VERY filling), we wandered around the market. I spotted a series of cat pictures done by artist Frank Coble, and bought one that made me think of my fat orange kitty, Oliver.
 

We continued to wander along the waterfront and ended up at the Seattle Aquarium. I’d been to the aquarium once before last year, and Paul had been as a kid on field trips and such. I really liked looking at all the colorful fishes, but my very favorite were the playful otters. They are so cute and lively! They seemed to be having the time of their lives and we watched them for quite awhile.
After a nice lunch at the Crab Pot, we wandered along the waterfront, up through the Sculpture Park, and over to Seattle Center (where the Space Needle is, for those not familiar). We had planned to take the monorail back to Westlake and walk the small distance to our hotel from there, but the line was uncharacteristically long so we decided to just walk back.
For dinner, I took Paul out to Ray’s Boathouse.  I knew it was on the water, but I wasn’t prepared for how stunning the view would be. We arrived right as the sun was setting, and it was breathtaking. The restaurant itself is fabulous and the food was delicious. Paul had scallops and I got a sampler with salmon, sablefish, and a crab cake. Everything was mouthwateringly good.
On Monday, we went to the Pacific Science Center to see the King Tut Exhibit. Paul had of course been to the Pacific Science Center many times, but I never had, so I enjoyed wandering around and looking at everything. We saw King Tut at noon, and that was amazing. If you live in the area or can get yourself here before January 6th, I highly recommend going to the exhibit (it’s leaving North America after that). The exhibit is wonderful and I enjoyed brushing up on my ancient Egyptian history (I had a history teacher in school who focused a lot of his curriculum on ancient Egypt….we even reconstructed Tut’s tomb as a class project and led tours through it) and seeing in person the things that were found in the Valley of the Kings was amazing.
We finished out our weekend with Paul’s delicious homemade steaks and a fire in the fire pit (may be our last one before the cold weather sets in). We sat in the backyard, warmed by our fire, toasting marshmallows for s’mores.
All in all, I think the 30th birthday celebration was a great success.

It’s election year, and a big focus has been over whether abortion or even birth control should be allowed. As a woman, it pisses me off to no end to listen to a bunch of middle-aged male politicians talk about what I should and shouldn’t be able to do with my uterus. There’s no equivalent: I can’t say to a man, “Well how would you like it if you weren’t allowed to…” because there’s nothing to compare it to. It’s such a personal issue. To tell women they shouldn’t be able to choose abortions for themselves, to say that I can’t decide how to deal with an unwanted pregnancy in my own way, makes me feel like a second-class citizen. There’s no feeling quite like being told you shouldn’t be allowed to choose the best course of action for your own body and your own future.
It bothers me enough listening to middle-aged male politicians banter on about how my rights to make my own health decisions should be taken away. It makes me angry, sad, and afraid. It terrifies me that there really are these oppressive and stupid men in this country, in 2012 no less, that are trying to push women a step back . Then there are the women who also cry out in agreement for suppression of their own rights. I want to slap those women.
Yes, all of this pisses me off. But what truly brought it home and led me to finally write about it and take a stand is being told, to my face, by a peer that he supported taking away my rights. That he knows better than me what I should do.
When I say I’m pro-choice, I’m not even talking about circumstances. Some say there should be exceptions to the no-abortion stance, like rape or for the health of the mother. But really, to me the only explanation needed is, “This is what is best for me.”
I’m not saying these things to have those that disagree with me try to tell me why I should change my position. My position won’t change, so save your breath. I’m writing this because the whole issue became a whole lot more personal to me when I felt the discrimination first-hand, when it wasn’t some idiot on tv but someone whom I wrongly believed valued me equally as a person. I’m sad, I’m hurt, and yes, I’m angry, and I feel driven to say so.
I don’t believe that abortion will ever be illegal in this country, and that comforts me. I’m further comforted by the fact that there are good men in the world, men that are my family and my friends, that stand with me and all other women and will fight alongside us to help us keep our rights.
To those people who are trying to take my right to choose away, you are a villain in my world, make no mistake. You are someone who believes that you know better than I do what choice is right for me. You are trying to position yourself to tell me what to do and I really, really hate being told what to do. The fact that you think you should be able to dictate to me is disgusting.
This is all very simple. If you don’t like abortions, don’t have one. But don’t try to tell me what to do.
In short, keep your nose out of my vagina.

So I haven’t written in awhile…after finding the options for enhancing my blog to be rather limited, I opted to switch to WordPress. At the recommendation of my fabulous friend Kate Retherford, I asked her very awesome friend Jon if he would be willing to help me with my site. He agreed, and has been beyond amazing in the process of switching over my site. I’m really excited with how everything looks! Please feel free to browse around my new and improved site and let me know what you think!
So what have I been up to since I’ve last written?
A few weeks ago, I traded in my Elantra on a Prius. I am in serious Prius love. The new car is dark blue, has all the nice features I like, and is getting a consistent 50mpg. I couldn’t be happier with my purchase and maybe, just maybe, I’ll keep this car a little longer.

 
Earlier this month, I went with Kate and some other friends from Zumba to the Puyallup Fair. I had never been to a big fair like it before (although my mom did tell me afterwards that she and my dad did take me to the small fair in Victorville once) so I was really excited. We had tickets for the rodeo and for a ‘Dancin’ in the Dirt’ concert after that. The rodeo wasn’t until the evening, so we arrived around lunchtime to have some fair food, wander through all the booths, and watch a round of Mutton Bustin’ (little kids riding sheep).The day as a whole was spectacular. The weather was phenomenal, the friends I went with are some of my favorite people, and I looooved the rodeo, especially the barrel racing and bucking horses!
Yesterday, Paul and I went out kayaking for the first time this year. We always rent kayaks at the Agua Verde Paddle Club in Seattle. When you paddle out, you have the option of going over to Lake Union or staying on Lake Washington. We chose the latter, and spent a blissful hour paddling around the Arboretum, seeing the plants, the lily pads scattered across the surface of the water (Paul sweetly gave me a beautiful lily), and watching the many ducks swim, play, and fish.

My lily.
 
It feels great to be back to blogging, and now that my new site is up my goal is to get back to at least a couple posts a week. Welcome to the new, very much improved V in the Northwest!

It was October. The weather was just starting to cool off, and I was a month into my new job as a 411 operator with Verizon. I was on my break, and when I walked into the lunch room, it was empty except for one guy. He had light hair, an earring in his left ear, and was wearing a leather jacket. He was sitting at a table, staring at the TV, which had the movie “Interview with the Vampire” playing on it. I didn’t want to interrupt while he was watching the movie, but he was so cute, I couldn’t resist the urge to talk to him. So I said something about liking the movie, he agreed, I said the book was even better, he nodded in agreement (I would later find out that he’d never read the book at all and was just going along with what I was saying). Cute guy had to leave, he was new and in training, so I smiled and said goodbye to him.

I found out that cute guy’s name was Paul and he had recently come to California from the Seattle area. We’d run into each other from time to time on the floor of the call center while we looked for workstations, or in the break room. Then one chilly night, Paul and I got off work at the same time and walked out to the parking lot together. He’d just gotten a new car and offered to show it to me. It turned out to be a really great luxury sedan, with more features than I’d known a car could have. It was late so he had me climb in and drove me across the large parking lot to my own car. We sat there for awhile, getting warm and talking. I really, really liked him. I felt so comfortable with him, like I could tell him anything.  When I climbed out of his warm car and into my own cold one, I wondered if there was more to that than just a nice guy showing off his new car.

Time passed. One beautiful, warm spring day, I left the office after the first half of my split shift (back then I worked four hours in the morning, had a several-hours-long break, then went back for the last four hours of my shift). Paul was leaving at the same time as I was, and we walked to the parking lot together, talking. He was so smart, so funny, so interesting to talk to. Before I knew it I was due back at work. I’d stood in the parking lot talking with Paul for the entire break in my split shift. Later, when I saw him in the office, I could tell that the sunburn he’d acquired while standing in the parking lot matched my own. A few people raised their eyebrows at us, since it was apparent we’d been together that afternoon.

Spring moved into summer, and the weather went from warm to scorching hot. One day when I was off but Paul had to work, I dropped by the office to give him a bag of chocolate (Hershey’s Treasures, the caramel ones). Another night, I was bored at home so I dropped by work to see if I could catch him on break. He teased me a little for voluntarily being at work, but he ended up asking me out to dinner. I didn’t hesitate to say yes.

Our first date was on August 20, 2004. Paul was off that day but I had to work. I wore a black and white wrap shirt, black slacks, and black sandals.  I spent time that morning getting ready and was bouncing off the walls with excitement all day.

Finally work was over and I went out to the parking lot, where Paul was waiting in his car.  He wore an orange button-down shirt and looked amazing. He took me to the Roadhouse for steaks, which was far nicer than anyplace I’d been taken on a date before. Maybe I was easily impressed, but he accomplished impressing me nicely. Dinner was great and I had a blast with him. After we ate, I invited him back to my apartment to meet Angel, my spoiled Siamese cat. He played with her and petted her, which delighted her. I watched them play, grinning, knowing that this guy was someone very special.

It’s been eight years since that first date. Paul and I have since been through some of the best and worst times of our lives together, and at times I wondered whether we’d make it together. Always, we found our way back to one another, and today our relationship is fantastic and I love him to pieces. I can’t imagine my life without him.