one ticket to paradise

the missus is going to hawaii.

without me.

hypothetically, if one of us is obliged to travel someplace fabulous on business, the other should be able to tag along without breaking the bank.

the hotel, after all, is paid for. as is one airfare.

business dinners dramatically reduce the cost of meals, so all that's left to cover is round-trip airfare for one.

well, that and the cost of leaving the children behind.

they're too young to stay home alone, and too high-maintenance to pawn off on neighbors. flying the grandparents in for a few days adds significantly to the bottom line. and we haven't yet mentioned the current cost of flights to hawaii, which is enough to make your ears bleed.

bla bla bla. i'm not going.

instead, i'm considering this great alternative, which is totally within the budget.

so, make it one ticket to paradise, please, and three tickets to tornado alley...

mediterranean err

it was all going to be so perfect.

at the confluence of a milestone birthday and a milestone wedding anniversary, the missus and i were gonna fly, sans children, for a fabulous two-week holiday in spain and france.

or spain and italy. or france and italy. or, really, any one of the countries mentioned above. details were still sketchy, but the plan was mutually and enthusiastically endorsed.

the idea was to get away, just us, to someplace we've never been. someplace steeped in history. rich in culture. marinaded in exquisite local wine.

and just for fun, since we were going to be there anyway, we thought we might look around a bit and find ourselves a new forever home. one promising a more reasonable cost of living. a more civilized work-life balance. warmer temperatures. and maybe a water view.

inside of two weeks we were going to find the one spot on earth that offered all of those things (actually, we would've settled for one or two), fetch the children and the dogs, and never look back.

i mean, how hard could that be?

then the middle east happened (thanks hosni! thanks muammar!), and the price of jet fuel went exactly the way you'd expect. not coincidently, airfares to fabulous mediterranean destinations went the same way. and suddenly, for the price of two tickets to barcelona or marseille or rome, we could drive the whole family to yakima a couple dozen times at least.

important geographic note: yakima isn't anywhere near spain. or france. or italy. and while we have nothing but respect for the town and the entire yakima viticultural region, we did not envision it as our milestone celebration destination.

already we're talking about postponing our trip until late summer or fall, betting that the price of petroleum products will decline heading into winter. it's a sucker's bet, we realize, but it's the only one we have at the moment.

in the meantime there's a small but finite possibility that the missus will be required to travel for business in april to...wait for it...hawaii.

we're equally foolish to bet on that one, but it's important in this life to have something to hope for.

it was all going to be so perfect. the grandparents were going to spend quality time with the children and the dogs, costs were going to be manageable, and everyone was going to live happily ever after.

then, poof. time for plan b.

which is to say...there's always yakima.

none-too-friendly skies

we're flying tomorrow.

which means we'll have to go through security at seatac airport.

i really hope nobody tries to grope us.

* * * * *

i haven't packed yet. but really, how long can it take to throw some shorts, t-shirts and a swimsuit into a carry-on bag?

besides which, this day-before was full up with last-minute busy work. from the coffee shop to the hardware store to the barber shop to the dive shop to the fred meyer to the post office back to the hardware store to the grocery store and finally, home.

where there was still plenty more to do.

* * * * *

whoops, forgot the bakery and the book store. and the eyeglass repair place.

* * * * *

the forecast was right: it's turned cold in seattle. and windy. this is not a happy combination. wind chill factor is not something i want to deal with. current temperature, 37. feels like: 32. dew point: 23. which means it could get damn cold tonight. forecast for the next three days: snow flurries developing. highs in the 30s. lows in the 20s.

seems like a good time to be leaving town.

* * * * *

movie tonight on comcast channel 650: "how do i look?"
movie on channel 651, same time: "coyote ugly"

* * * * *

crystal mountain and mount baker ski areas are already open. skiing this season is going to be amazing. and, unlike last year, i get to participate. working-from-home snow days also looking promising.

* * * * *

so, i've downloaded "50 first dates" from itunes. why would i do such a thing, you might ask? because it was shot on oahu, that's why. many of the places we'll be going to featured prominently in the movie. sealife park, where adam sandler's character worked. chinaman's hat, near where forgetful lucy lived. kaneohe, waimea, waimanalo...oh, i also thought the movie was pretty funny. i plan to watch it on the flight over. assuming we get past the gropers.

* * * * *

also shot on oahu: "from here to eternity," "tora, tora, tora," and "pearl harbor."

"jurassic park."

the opening shots of "gilligan's island."

"hawaii 5-0."

"lost."

if you like that sort of thing.

* * * * *

10-day forecast for honolulu:

high: 82
low: 71

repeat, 10 times.

*****

we're flying tomorrow.

why am i still awake and typing?

Sent from my iPad

plan B

plan A never goes according to plan.

most often, plan A goes sideways the millisecond after you put the finishing touches to it. good thing you've got a back-up plan, huh? 

nuh-uh. same thing applies to plan B and plan C and so on through the alphabet.

because no plan can account for the many variables you can think of, and all those you'd never conjure up in your most intricate anxiety dream. 

so while planning is very conscientious and comforting and human, it's mostly an exercise in delusion. the next time you think you're in control of the situation, no matter how innocuous the situation may seem, take a step back and allow yourself the languid terror of imagining how many ways you might be wrong. 

it won't make you feel better, but it'll bring you into the moment like a rake handle between the eyes.

and what could be more fun that that?

let's say, by way of example, that you have a deep, oppressive fear of flying. despite your fear and your careful avoidance of airplanes, some improbable set of variables aligns to absolutely require air travel. so you suck it up and get on the plane. settling into your seat, every sound you hear~from the loading of bags to the closing of the cargo door to the hissing of the ventilation system~confirms what you already know: the plane is seriously malfunctioning and inevitably going down.

take-offs and landings, you know, are the most dangerous. so as you roll down the runway, gaining terrifying speed, you hold your breath and wait for the end...which doesn't come! yet.

in flight, you're quite certain that every bump is the one with your name on it, the one that will put the plane into an unrercoverable dive. next thing you know, however, the captain is asking the flight attendants to prepare for landing. already? is it possible? still, you're not ready to be grateful, as the landing will shirley be disastrous.

but no, the landing is flawless, and as you taxi toward the gate, you're ecstatic. everything went according to (somebody's) plan. you take a deep breath and smile. almost simultaneously, you hear shouting. there's a disturbance behind you. people are fighting!

is it 9/11 all over again? the world goes dim, and you faint... only to learn later that the hijacking was just a flight attendant having a hissy fit and exiting the plane. down the escape slide with a couple beers in hand.

not part of the plan. and now you're traumatized in a whole new way.  

moving on, let's say you're sitting in the waiting area of a local hospital. it's quite luxurious, really, compared with, say, the rest of the world. you got your comfy chairs, your cable tv, your multiplicity of outlets powering everyone's wifi-enabled devices. hungry? there's a nice internet cafe. bon apetit.

there are so many creature comforts and distractions, it's almost possible to completely compartmentalize where you are and what might be happening just beyond the big gray door over there on the right side of the room. almost. because someone you care about is having surgery right through that door. 

and if you accidently allow yourself a stray moment of high alert~entirely appropriate given the surroundings~you remember that anything can happen the next time that door opens and someone in scrubs walks through.

it's a slow-motion moment in which you can hear yourself breathe and feel the blood moving through your veins and you experience the same feeling your ancestors did when they realized the wolf pack had caught their scent and was turning in their direction.

not part of the plan.

this is not to say that every plan goes upside down whenever the wind blows, ushering in an epoch of suffering and darkness (the bush administration notwithstanding). most plans play out just he way they're constructed, blithely unperturbed by the infinite variables whizzing past. any one of which could send the planet spiraling into the sun, but somehow doesn't. 

no, this is simply to say that as responsible as we all are, planning and forecasting and predicting with such adorable certainty...there's really no such thing. and the sooner we realize that plans A through Z have gone hilariously awry, all through history, the sooner we get to beer o'clock. metaphysically, that is.

speaking of which...

ahhhh.

it's good to have a plan.


Sent from my iPad

up in the air

the missus isn't wild about air travel.

she doesn't care much for crowded commercial flights. she breaks into a cold sweat at the mere suggestion of turbulence. and she white-knuckles take-offs and landings.

so you can imagine how she feels about float planes.

(hint: not good.)

but sometimes a gal's just gotta get up and go places. like victoria, bc, for example. and while she would've preferred a leisurely drive as prelude to a soothing ferry ride, circumstances sometimes call for speed.

a day trip for job interview, fer example.

thinking it might help to be able to see what was going on, the nice people at kenmore air let her sit next to the pilot. that turned out to be a mixed blessing. the takeoff was no big deal, but the landing...

heading in, the plane passed low over an outcropping of rocks. from the copilot seat, the rocks reportedly looked really big and really close. hopefully they won't make her pay for the ten indentations in the dashboard.

despite it all, the interview went well.

so well that the company invited her for another round of interviews in raleigh, nc.

she won't be driving to that one, either.