Okay guys, I'm taking a break from editing b/c I’ve had several requests for Hawaii stories. And really, I find stories to be a lot easier—and more faithful—when I only have to tell them once. So heeeere we go.
It all started at about midnight on Thursday night. Yes, the Thursday right before the Friday when we were supposed to leave. I said something like “You should really get the luggage down so we don’t have to worry about it in the morning,” and my husband, after much complaining, got out to the garage to do so. Just to set the scene, we have a loft in our garage, which is about 10 feet off the ground. He went up the ladder, grabbed the first suitcase, and handed it down to me. As I was turning around to put said suitcase behind me, I heard a ruckus, a shout, and turned around to see my husband falling through the air, the ladder flying off to the side. I got it together just enough to see him hit the ground.
So we spent the next four hours or so in the ER, taking advantage of their not-so-quick service to find that he had a bruised toe and a sprained ankle. That’s right. Could have been a lot worse, wasn’t, and for that I’ll be eternally thankful.
The next day, we got on the plane on a grand total of one hour of sleep, pain meds in hand. The flight started off rocky, but as soon as my husband took those pain meds, it became a comedy show. He called me a kumquat. And then told me that he was as hungry as a conehead. And that we had a lot in common because we both like to read. (Answer: … um, yes, that’s true. Well observed.) So yes … first day: entertaining.
When we arrived in Hawaii, and managed to rent our car, we took off on our adventure. The first hotel we stayed at was on the side of a mountain. Gorgeous view. But getting there required driving up the steepest driveway known to man. In the dark. When we didn’t know where we were going.
Next day, moving to the house my family had rented for the week … we get the same treatment. Steepest. Road. Ever. Right up the side of the mountain. Only this time, we had the pouring rain to deal with as well, and a car that didn’t weigh enough to get up the mountain. Turns out we went to Hawaii during a hurricane, when they’re getting more rain than they’ve had ALL YEAR. And we’ve rented a house that has a somewhat damaged driveway, which happens to sit in the middle of a raging river during the rainy season.
It was gorgeous there, don’t get me wrong, and I was as happy as a clam, getting to spend the week with my family. But we very quickly developed a routine: Go down into town (or to the beach) in the morning, when it was nice. Get home before 4, when it began raining, or risk the wrath of the river over the driveway, and get shut out. One car full of family sat on the other side of that river for about an hour, at one point, waiting for it to subside. And yes, I spent LOTS of time jumping in that water—once it was a safe-enough puddle—with my nephew, who thought it was hilarious for me to get my feet wet.
Other high notes: the mosquitoes, which literally tried to drain my body of blood. I had something like thirty bites on my legs on the second day. The amazing change of temperature between the beach and the house where we were staying. A full 8 inches of rain on the first day. The blow-your-mind intensity of the lava fields, where you can see the remains of the most recent volcanic eruption, and walk on rock that was magna not too long ago (I got it in my mind that this rock smelled like Dark Angels from Lush, and still can’t get over it). The gorgeous beaches. Swimming with green sea turtles. The one snorkeling trip where a family member accidentally got in the water with a tiger shark. And finally—and possibly most impressively—the fact that I came away from the trip with the nickname “The Hammer,” garnered during a competitive night of pool with my brother in law.
We had a terrific time, saw a lot of sights, and I even came home with a bunch of antiques. I can’t wait to go back. For now, though, I feel like I need a vacation FROM vacation, and am happy to get back into editing, which at least requires that I sit in one place for awhile…
FIND MY HOLIDAY BOOK REVIEWS HERE.
Carrie White-Parrish is a dreamer, a rebel, and an admitted bibliophile. She started Glass House Press—her second company—when she ran across a manuscript that deserved to be published, and hasn’t looked back. Though her tastes run from MG to historical fiction to high fantasy and back, her heart truly belongs to YA. When she’s not editing or publishing, you can find her taking over the world, hanging out with her many spoiled pets, or traveling the world with her beloved husband.