ONE MORE DAY of this Home

I don’t know if it’s all the excitement of the past 72 hours being jam packed with activities or if it’s the the “one day left” syndrome kicking in. Either way I am hoping that by charging up in the sun right now (I am after all, a solar powered unit) I can rid myself of the flu that has thrust itself upon me. Are these my locusts? Come on, a last minute attempt to get me to stay? I don’t need that much encouragement. Dad said it would be a terrible shame if I was too sick to fly home tomorrow. No, of course not, he has no personal agenda in that sincere request (?)

It has been 72 hours of a little bit of anything. I have had no time to think about leaving because I have only had time to be with them. Every day, every moment. One of my favorite things was when Serene and I got home last night and my Dad was waiting up for us, asleep in the lounge with the T.V on. There was no need to creep past the door hoping to slip into our room unnoticed. I felt so young saying that just then. Dad wasn’t on “watch dog duty” I smile at that thought. I have lived out of home for so long that I had forgotten there was such a thing as waiting up parents. Side note: I wonder how I can work this so he can Skype wait up for me in Salt Lake City? Thoughts? My Dad woke up and hugged me and his sleepy smile was a genuinely so happy to see me smile. I sat on the couch and put my sore feet (wretched high heels) onto his lap for him to rub them a little “Tell me about your night daughter”. I loved him so much in that moment.

I will never die wondering whether all of my parents love me.

The other night I lay in bed in the early hours of the morning with my thoughts as company. I like those quiet hours – no one or nothing to disturb you. My sister had been snuggled next to me sleeping soundly, she had thoughtfully tried to wait up for me as I wrote a little but her heavy eyelids had battled and won. I am really going to miss this sharing a room thing when I go home.

I was thinking about a lot – firstly, how the kitchen and house had been restored to their pre party states – *sparkle sparkle* you could have seen your face in that kitchen floor. All the apologies for too much “noise” and loud music (loud is the only volume music has right?) had not been made at that point... I added that to the mental “to do” list. Right then, I just rested, feeling fed in every way, feeling full in every way.

We had partied authentic this week, my sister is building her His YSA empire “One soul at a time”. Last week had been a Mexican Fiesta of immense sorts and this week we had decided to add some authentic flavor - we had gone in true Japanese style… with some pizza thrown in… so pretty authentic you know (?). I don’t really do sushi. I would eat pizza over sushi any day so I had gladly voted in that addition. Wow. It’s true isn’t it, I just sounded more and more American.

There are some images that are still stuck in my mind from that day. Snapshots of important doctrine being taught in raw, real life application kind of ways. “Think of your brethren like unto yourselves, and be familiar with all and free with your substance, that they may be rich like unto you” (Jacob 2:17) I had seen my interpretation of that scripture personified. My sister had bought enough food that day to feed the state of Utah. I wish you could have seen the joy in her face as she did it. It was a beauty that looks like, well, what I imagine charity looks like in the flesh to an outsider. It was humbling.  We had been on a food expedition all that day– I had tagged along, pushing the trolley (*cart) around the supermarket for her, watching her, taking mental notes, you know the ones that commit you to being better and more than you are.  Did I mention the 102 piece sushi platter assortment? Our family doesn’t mess around. You would have been proud. We don’t do bite size dinners – we prefer the leaving our house feeling so full (full in every way) that you have to roll out the door with your take home bag kind of style. And when I say “take home bag” I mean literally a bag – look, we ran out of plastic plates and I was working with what I had. Zip lock bags, although somewhat ghetto (ok, really ghetto) had to be the go to. If only you had seen people’s faces as I spooned rice and teriyaki chicken into zip lock bags for them to take home. I know, even as I write that now I can’t believe I did that, I am laughing at how uncouth it was. It was definitely shock value. Once the public got wind of it, it was renamed “chicken in a bag.” Sounds like a business venture?

As I lay in bed after it was all over I had thought about how each of us has a responsibility to be free with our substance. Just as I had seen the examples of others that day.  I am not just talking about money, because I don’t have any. I am talking about a “tell me what you’re made of” version of substance. Actually don’t tell me, show me. Show me your substance. Show me how you use everything that He, He who we owe all that we have and are and all that we can ever hope to be to.

Actually don’t show me, show Him.

That night we ate Japanese, some of us pizza, we took home chicken Teriyaki in zip lock bags (can we please overlook that now?) but more importantly we all desired for each to “be rich like unto us”. I guess that depends how you define “rich” though. We don’t need money to be “free with our substance”. We don’t need money to freely share His love with others. We don’t need money to free others as they become “rich like unto us”.  

Be free.

Mt Everest at Home- are we there yet?

For those of you that own gym memberships that haven’t been used in about …well maybe I won’t say because I don’t want to embarrass you. You all know who you are. After today’s fitness escapades I just want to say... I UNDERSTAND! Let the days and months tick on and the membership sit neatly tucked away in the crease of your wallets. It can keep the other “frequently” used cards company, you know your loyalty card at the shop you went to once but will probably never go to again. Because getting fit is hard work! YUCK! Who wants it!

Dad and I had big plans. We decided we would go on a walk every day this week before I leave on Sunday.  On Monday night we had detailed the logistics, we had talked all the talk there was, and then some, so now it was time to walk the walk. 7am tomorrow we were climbing our Mt Everest. Word on the street was that this particular walk to the water tower was the toughest walk around – there was only one direction for this walk…up. All the other little hilly walks in the surrounding areas bowed in reverence at its grandeur. “Too easy mate” as Dad would say. We were ready.

I sleepily pushed my mask up off my eyes and onto my forehead as I rolled over to glance at the clock. One eye was still half closed.  I collapsed back into my pillow facedown. Ugh. It was 8.20am. So much for 7am- we were off to a good start. I hurriedly got dressed and we left.

Something you should know about my Dad is that he always has something funny to say. Even when he is not trying to be funny, he is funny, which makes it even funnier. Even when it probably isn’t the best time to be funny – he’s funny. My Dad is just like the value menu at Wendy’s – he offers a selection of great value items at very low cost (well, actually at no cost). I’ll take one of everything you are offering please Dad!

So as we are huffing, puffing, panting, sweating and going red in the face trying to climb this Mt Everest Dad is providing comedic commentary. The perfect time for it right?

Us: Heaving chests and panting in the blazing sun.

Dad: I wish I had bought the car door with us so I could wind down the window when it got hot.

Me: Dad do you want some water?

Dad: No I don’t need water, I need an ambulance.

Us: Struggling, legs burning, and then we reach a little flat part before the next monster hill.

Dad: Should we just wait here and have a rest for about a minute?

Me: No Dad, we don’t want to lose our momentum.

Dad: What momentum?

Us: Silence as we try to push through the pain without having a heart attack.

Dad: At least when they climb Mt Everest they give them oxygen.

Today we climbed our Mt Everest.  We may never do it again. Once may be one time too many, but we did it. Lately Dad has started saying to me “ENJOY to the end daughter, not just ENDURE”. If only you had heard how much I was laughing on the way up that hill with all of Dad’s commentary- I was certainly enjoying to the end.

KNOCK KNOCK -Anyone Home?

It is Sunday evening and I am eating, then stirring, then eating, chocolate cake and vanilla ice cream heaped together in a lumpy cake batter concoction. Don’t judge me; you don’t know what I have been through tonight. I am still kind of in shock and I hope to regain composure over feeding my habit. It has become apparently clear to me tonight that the only job I truly want in this life is going to take more practice/creativity/forgiveness/patience/resilience/sandwich making skills/listening/smelling weird things/sense of humor/LOVE and a million more job qualifiers than I may have thought. The night is now still and quiet with nothing to be heard but the creeping sounds of Australia’s insect kingdom coming out to play, ugh, I shudder.

I also know that this means one thing and one thing only. It means that my little cousins have now left the building.

If you think you will make a good parent in the future, how wonderful- that is a worthy goal to aspire to.  If you think you are a good parent already, congratulations- that is a worthy accomplishment.

 May I suggest that there is only one way to test those claims… I tested it tonight and I think I failed miserably.

 Meet them : Susanna, Shavonne, Jacob, Talia and Shane. They look harmless enough I know.

Nana and I were just relaxing when there was a loud knock knock at the door. “Who could that be? I wondered.” As I opened the door I was almost bowled down. Those lively cousins of mine had arrived in all their and glory! They quickly split up as they pushed past me at the door way, just like a football team, scattering, one person into each room, calling to each other as they went, moving full speed and hurricane like, filling the house with their presence.

I stood there watching in amazement and wondered which direction I should head in first?

I went into the kitchen to make sandwiches. Food I could do. Food is a language all Polynesians, young and old, speak. They flew in after me yelling out their orders “peanut butter, no, peanut butter and jam, JUST butter, apple juice, just one piece of bread, a whole sandwich, I want another lolly…” 

Umm should I get a pen and write this all down?

Susannna runs up to me with Jacob in tow. “Adrienne, Adriennne, smell Jacob’s cast we put perfume on it!” (hmm where did you get that perfume from I was thinking?) Jacob had broken his arm rolling down a hill. He now proudly presents for inspection by me: one solid cast, with one tiny hand poking out the end. I lean in to smell it (I know, I know that request alone should have made me suspicious!) They both erupt into heaving laughter. “Just kidding, isn’t it disgusting? It smells like toe jams!” I wrinkle my nose and then just laugh and laugh – what else could I do? It really smelt so vile.

I am trying to quickly do the dishes and talk to the children at the same time. (BIG NO NO) Haven’t you ever heard Elder Richard. G. Scott’s address when his wife says “Richard, go and play with the children” instead of fixing the washing machine for her! Sigh, I am already breaking cardinal rules and I don't even have my own children. Fail. I want those to be my priorities too. Actually, no, they will be my priorities too.  So I turn around to face these little delights as I ask them about what they learnt at Church today. I see them jumping up and down from one stool to the next at the breakfast bar and then diving straight onto the counter top – I have 3 large swimming fish children lying flat on their tummies, squirming all over the top of the bench.  Oh. Oh. Oh no.  I am secretly relieved my Nana cannot see what is happening from where she is sitting in the lounge. Nana calls out to me. I can tell she wants answers. I can tell she is not happy at the noise level or the burning buildings of destruction my lovely cousins are leaving in their wake.

They suddenly leave as quickly as they came. I am speechless. What just happened? 

I go into the lounge and look at Nana without saying anything. She is appalled. She loves them but she is old school Samoan and children are supposed to be "well behaved" in her opinion. 

“Eh, Outlaws!” she says to me shaking her head. I smile. I want to laugh. I hide it. I smile. I bite my bottom lip. The laugh is forcing it's way out. She doesn’t really mean that… I don’t think. 

If you tell the Lord you want to be a Mother, He sends you practice. Clearly by tonight's demonstration, I need a lot of it. I think I just failed my learner’s license. Please, can I have a second chance?

  

Rain Warning : Stay at Home!

The rains came down and the floods came up, and the house on the rock still stood.

I am sitting in the passenger seat of Genevieve’s car looking out at a grey stormy blur as I write this. The rain is so heavy you can barely see out the window. The window wipers, to no avail, try desperately to keep up. I love watching it when it’s like this; it lulls the heart into a state of peace. Drop after drop makes for a noisy background band. Just breathe, take it all in- How Great Thou Art.

G and I are not deterred by a little torrential downpour – are you kidding, we embrace it. I am sporting the new black sandals that she bought me, and she is sporting hers– without saying any words, we make a stand. We aren’t scared of a little bit of water. Do your worst.  A sisterly sleepover at her house is just what the weatherman ordered for days such as this. G takes care of me, complete with snacks in bed and DVD’s (she doesn’t kick you out for crumbs either) and I try to take care of her by putting my wiggling cold feet on her warm ones.  I watch her and think “Father, please help her to know her worth- to me and to you.”

CHECKLIST:

One Noah’s Ark flood – check.

One large hazelnut hot chocolate with marshmallows from Gloria Jeans- check

One sister (Has anyone seen our other sister? Please send her back to us we miss her) - check

G and I are quiet in the car now – it is not the kind of quiet because you don’t know what to say to each other but instead an existence of being totally comfortable. NO words are all the words necessary. I also think (just between you and me) that we are both still recovering from last night’s “Cotton Eye Joe” ho down. It was somewhat traumatic. They told us that the YSA dance music was usually pretty good …cough (quoting G’s famous line from last night, used multiple times) “maybe you and I have a different concept of that word?” After we got to the dance… the “Cotton Eye Joe” song was blaring from the speakers and line dancing was upon us. Gulp. Line dancing? Double gulp. I stood awkwardly in the middle of the dance floor looking left, looking right and then left again. I felt fear.  Crowds of people were enthusiastically line dancing from every side, working up a sweat.  I was trying to decide if I could give it a go- question mark. It looked intense. Skye, the hip hop group choreographer from my school would not have stood for this if she was here. There would have been a dance off showdown of sorts. One look at my sister’s face told me that joining the line dancers was not going to be an option for us. We made a quick exit to the left.

When you think all hope is lost and Cotton Eye Joe is the playlist – a nice little visit to the DJ to kindly request demand  request Beyonce is on the agenda.

Paaaarty at Home

It’s decided! We are having a Mexican Fiesta at our house tonight. I am telling you to dust off those maracas and gear up. Ok, now I just have to figure out what a Mexican Fiesta is? Yea, yea minor details.

Help- anyone?

Side Note: Before the commencement of festivities my foot got attacked, and make no mistake, not bitten, but attacked like a free for all “Rue Transonian” (Honore Daumier, 1834) massacre by a black ant Colonel and his troops. Yes and don’t you dare laugh. I also know that ants are black, so that wasn’t an obvious description of the Colonel, but his actual title. Black ants aye? Black describes the heart and intent. How could something so small inflict so much pain? Is this punishment? I’m sorry, I promise I’ll try to enjoy the good life less…OK that may be a lie. Let the good times roll and the good life roll on.

Laughter filled every room tonight; oh I wish you could have seen it. It was the best kinds of beautiful, the kinds that make everyone feel like they belong. It was togetherness. It was friendship. It was real. We are learning how to do “real” really well.

Every corner, of every space, of every inch reverberated joy and the true meaning of it. You couldn’t hide from it. Everywhere I walked I felt it. It rested in thick layers all over the house. Our home was filled with guests of all walks of life and all backgrounds. Nobody cared. Welcome and be welcomed -God is no respecter of persons.

Tonight I found out what a Mexican Fiesta is – are you interested in knowing this redefined definition? I discovered it as I busied myself around observing our guests, sneaking candid photos with my sister’s fancy camera that I had no idea how to operate. Do I need a license for this thing or what? It turns out that I probably shouldn’t quit my day job (the one that I don't have?) and take up fulltime paparazzi’ing (If you have to get the manual out to see how to turn the camera on then you have no business using it.) Anyway I don’t know what other people’s Mexican Fiesta’s look like but ours looked like this: It looked like guitar playing in the lounge with some of the best voices I have ever heard as accompaniment.  It looked like a group of boys, not at all inhibited by surroundings, sitting at the breakfast bar telling stories as they laugh about work, dating and missions. You know – real life. It looked like “do it yourself” pedicures thanks to my sister’s vast and I mean VAST selection of nail polish colors. It looked like card games on the kitchen floor (who brings cards to a Mexican Fiesta!?) WE DO!! It looked like smiles, the ones that reach your eyes, the ones that strip away everything and reveal something I didn’t know about you. It looked like fresh food full of flavor, color and “let’s try some new things” attitude (thanks Shelly for the bean dip inspiration. It wasn’t as good as yours but we tried!)

I don’t know what a Mexican Fiesta is supposed to look like, but ours looked like... L-O-V-E. I’ll take it. Tonight there was no respecter of persons. Tonight we all belonged to the same.

HOME SALE - 1 CAR - FREE to a junk yard (or near offer)

I have writers block today. Sigh. It’s almost blasphemous to utter those words aloud. I think it’s because the sun left this morning, you know just up and packed its bags and said I’m tired of your demands; I’m taking a day off. I can take one day of sun retirement graciously, but more than one day in a row and I’ll have to start calling you Salt Lake City. That could get ugly. 

Today has been a bit of a fruit salad. Colorful and fruity - much like us. Anyway, I rolled over to face my sister during our afternoon nap earlier, she makes me laugh when she sleeps, it’s almost like she begs you to disturb her slumber because she’s so adorable. Anyway, I wanted to pick through the fruit salad of today’s events with her, and I needed her to wake up. No, not selfish at all. I call her name softly. "Serrreeeennnnee" Did I say softly? Oh, I meant loud and startling. I am close enough to her face that she can hear me, further enough so as not to get a head butt if she gets a sudden fright and moves. “What day is it?” she blurts out as she tries to open her eyes and sit up at the same time. Now that is talent.  I chuckle at her disorientation and feel somewhat bad for waking her, but not bad enough to let her go back to sleep. “Tell me about today” I said. I desperately wanted to replay Dad’s lyrical mastermind moment with his free style rap about his car that broke down - I needed a second witness. I don’t care who you are, or what you say, my Dad is a creative musical genius. Some people call a tow tuck when their cars break down... boring, my Dad writes a song. I cannot capture the essence of how brilliant and spontaneous it was, so I won't try, you just had to be there. Maybe I'll post the video of it if he gives his permission (we may need some legal jargon in place beforehand for the ownership rights.) My favorite line of the song was "Adrienne told me to take it to the mechanic" (I've never been a fan of "I told you so") but that preceded the chorus line of "WO, WO, WO is me." x 3 (for effect)

Yesterday we had 3 cars, and today 1 and a half !!?? (the other one had a sudden mysterious fuel tank problem?) they are dropping like flies. I must say, it's a sign. The sun decides to pack it in, and so do the cars. 

Keeping the Sabbath Homely?

I just realized how much I have been blogging about my family. Good. If you want to know who I am, then get to know my family. They inspire the very best parts of me.

This Sabbath day accomplished exactly what every Sabbath should... "but be ye transformed by the renewing of your mind." I was transformed in small ways. Renewed in larger ones. Each speaker shedding a layer of my skin. Each lesson and thought shared revealing some newness underneath.
Now I am ready to face another week. But before I do, can I please have a renewing of my face?

Tonight while everyone had places to go and people to see (NOT ME, I am on no one's timetable but my own) my sister Serene and I hung out with the O.G... Original Gangster? No, Original Grandma. The first generation Diva. (You knew it started somewhere right?) Genny D we missed you tonight, you missed Nana's outrage at certain family antics. Anyway, in the midst of words of wisdom from "Nanny Boo" we were treated to facials in the lounge. Don't tell me that the renewing of your mind doesn't feel even better with the renewing of your face. There is no salvation in bad skin...right? Let me know if that changes though.


Exhibit A:

We have a lot to learn from "old people". And if you don't feel that way, my friend, you are sadly mistaken. They have not only learnt how to live life, but they have learnt how to endure well - isn't that what we all try to figure out? Why not ask the experts. Take time to sit with them and glean like you are hearing these truths for the first time - you probably are. You will find that you receive not only a "renewing of your mind" but a renewing of your heart, and the heart is what brings transformation. So if you don't know any "old people", don't worry, I'll lend you some of mine. 

Sounds of Home

It is 7.22am - I know, no living things should be moving at this time. Everyone knows my morning doesn't officially begin before 10am. That is the law. Anyway, at the hour of 7.22am the sweet chords of guitar playing waft through every room until they reach me, last room, last door, end of the hallway. How can you be mad at that? I am lying in bed staring at the ceiling waiting for someone to ask me what I'm doing ...(Sam and Judy, do you remember that famous line from our "Forever 21" store experience?) Yes, I am "living the dream".
The sounds settle on the house like morning dew. It's beautiful. It's nostalgic. It's childhood.

Every day of my life that I can remember, my Dad sat on a little red plastic chair made for a three year old singing us to "sleep" in our room of crowded bunk beds. My sisters and I yelled like we were at a concert "just one more song!" My Mum would call up from the lounge "Tim, those girls need to go to sleep!" Yea right. My Dad would say "OK, just one more" and five songs later we were laughing at our triumph over Mum trying to be the sleep police. There were a few favorites that were always on the replay "Up on the Roof" by James Taylor was probably played and sung for more hours than we slept during my entire "growing up". This morning I realized I haven't really "grown up", I've just got a lot bigger. This morning I realized I still want "just one more song." So while I'm up already .....

If you can't beat 'em join 'em?

Home School

Do you remember the first day of school? Let’s be honest- probably not. But think back to it anyway because the first day is the beginning of the unknown. The first day sets the tone for the rest.

Yesterday I had my first day of school. Home school. It lets you know that everything you’re about to experience has been tailored for you with one purpose only…

To educate.

And what possible education could you gain from a collaboration of Diva’s? Oh, do not be mistaken. Do not let their red nail polish, oversized sunglasses or giant hair bows fool you.

Now kindly allow me to educate you.

It is early, and as I write this and I am sitting outside on a sun lounger by the pool at my sister Genevieve’s “Malibu Beach House.” A polka dot pink dressing gown, vanilla tea and a scenic canvas of nature are my assistants- come on, it helps my writers flow.

There were many firsts yesterday, first of manys. First things first, my coconut bread factory has begun. I don’t want to toot my own horn so I won’t – it’s really the only thing I can make. Seriously. Cooking genes skipped the first born. If that doesn’t sell it for you then I don’t know what will. Anyway, I have called the suppliers, they are in place, and they know my intentions. There will be more coconut bread made over the next 3 weeks than Australia has ever seen. Believe that. Dad and I have an understanding. Some might call it earning your keep – I call it LOVE in a big way, a way that Polynesians understand- FOOD.  Dad and I were singing to Earth Wind and Fire “September” as I baked and he provided the entertainment… smooth dance moves, and a claim that he used to pull out all the stops at the YSA dances to this music. Flour - $1.50, Sugar - $1.05, and the image of my Dad doing the splits in tight blue pants- Priceless. What did I tell you? True education.

I then went shopping with my sister Genevieve. I heard some of you gasp, rightly so. As a result of this shopping experience, I have adopted a new philosophy in life. Have you ever been shopping with someone who scrutinizes every price, or looks at every item agonizing over whether they can get this cheaper somewhere else? Someone that goes back to look at the same item ten times before they actually buy it? Or has to be heavily coerced into even $5 of spending? For those of you that suffer from that illness, please apply the following:

“STOP IT.”

My sister doesn’t have an ounce of that illness in her body. She prefers to live by a different kind of rule and she invites you to live it with her. She looks at me as she holds up two different items. If you can’t decide which one to buy – just get both. If you can’t decide whether you really “need” it or not – don’t risk it, you need it. If the car gets pulled over violently on the way out of the car park because the word SALE is displayed – that’s just quick reflexes. If you have a strict $100 shopping budget, no problem – $150 is the new $100.

What does it mean to be educated? Today I had my first day of home school. I was schooled in the ways of the most important kind of education of all – FAMILY.

HOME – Dorothy is that You?

Preface: You realize the level of commitment you have when the number of flights it takes to get to where you are going is just straight irrelevant. This is one long yellow brick road.

2 flights down, 1 to go. The end is in sight. Once I get there it will be a grand total of 26 hours travel time. Don’t say anything. I am now kicking back in transit in Auckland, New Zealand (my home town) waiting for the final batten changeover to Australia. It feels like I’m home, sort of, but it feels foreign to me too. Uh, the million dollar question rears its head again – Home is…question mark?  I can’t even leave the airport so there is no way to know whether Auckland has truly welcomed me back.

R.I.P for now.

I am sitting in the airport, looking around, feeling slightly dazed, glasses on-my eyes can barely focus. Have you ever wondered the stories of each traveler that you sit in the midst of? All of us waiting, watching so eagerly for the monitors to change, much like someone waiting for a package in the mail. “Any moment now” we think. All of us share that unspoken nod, acknowledging without words that we are at the point of exhaustion. We have sought refuge, as we wait; sprawled on airport furniture that just exudes comfort and restful activity – NOT. 

Let’s be honest, 12 ½ hours in flight is a lot of time to kill. Did I mention that I had a whole row to myself on a full plane? I don’t know how He does it, but there are at least 5 miracles per trip. So is this a cause for celebration of self - question mark. No, this is cause for gratitude and then...more gratitude- full stop. (*American translation: "Period") 

I may or may not have past some of the time watching snippets of “Breakfast at Tiffany’s”.  Don’t judge me. It’s a classic. Besides, It was either that or “The H*ngover?” or something like “Friends with Ben*fits?” Hmm. Decisions, decisions.  As difficult as that choice was….yea, I think you get my drift. 

I actually learnt some life lessons though (gear up for this.) 

As it turns out Tiffany & Co is still a universal language? What? Ground breaking. Anyway, there was this one scene where they are in Tiffany’s and he wants to buy her something…wait, one minor detail… for under $10! “Look, I’m not a miracle worker” is what that shop assistant was thinking! Can you imagine if you went in there now and pitched that? You would be laughed out of that store faster than you could say “hire purchase?” (*New Zealand translation: "Layby") They then decide to take this junk ring that came out of a “Cracker Jack” box to be engraved by Tiffany’s. OK, OK, I see what you did there. 

So what life lessons can be learnt from this?

First of all, whoever is in charge of the entertainment selection on the plane should be... cough, uh, spoken to gently?

Secondly, what do you do when life gives you lemons? Make lemonade? No – go to Tiffany’s. Hello.

Sometimes we are given tasks or obstacles that may seem impossible (Exhibit A: buying something from Tiffany’s for under $10!!!!) and the answer isn’t always what we might think (finding a “cheaper” diamond?) No. There is no such thing as a cheap diamond. Sometimes we have to think outside the box a little (getting a ring ENGRAVED by Tiffany’s) and maybe no one has ever done it that way before, but so what.

Oh, hang on a minute- but they have. 

Building a boat to go to a place you've never been to? Travelling through an unknown route a.k.a the Red Sea? Oh yea, no big deal right? Wrong. Improvising with materials that have never been used quite that way before? “...therefore touch these stones, O Lord, with thy finger, and prepare them that they may shine forth in darkness...”

Sometimes we have to find the “road less travelled” and “it will make all the difference”

(-Robert Frost)

I am on my road less travelled. I’ve never been here before – have you? I am clicking my heels together with eyes shut tight, chanting “there’s no place like Home.” Now, I just have to figure out where and what that is.

But there is one Home that we ALL hope to get to….

Now, go find your road less travelled.

Home. Word.

Today is the day. It is the day for a lot of things.

I woke up and looked at the ceiling- relief came... and then left.  Excitement poked it's head around the corner. I thought, "OK, let's see what you can do with 3 weeks... let's see what can be done to you with 3 weeks."

Here are the facts to consider:
1. How do you feel about sun and relaxation that doesn't involve my cell phone going off every second. Cell phone? What's that.
2. How do you feel about laughter that spills from every room of every day of every head bopping music playing, singing, dancing minute?
3. How do you feel about family? Mine is colorful and wonderful and beautiful in its blended imperfect perfection. I love you Mum, Dad and Karen, Tia, Jaymee, Alex, Marley, Brandt, Sally, Giselle, Neihana, Quayde.  I also have a trio of harmonious Lauaki concord. "..to be together for us is to be at once as free as in solitude, as gay as in company"
4. How do you feel about no school, no work, no .... life?

Yea. I know how I feel about it and it starts with C and ends with ELEBRATORY.

This morning I rode Lola (my bike) around and bid farewell to Centerville. My home. My hood. My stomping ground. Today I am going home. I ponder my most recited, conflicted, question again :

Home is....question mark?

You all know who you are, and I love you. Sincerely. Dont worry - I'm coming back.
"FUUURRR SUUURRREEE"
note: *no Americans were harmed during the recording of this*