Holiday Gala

Timmer and I were really looking forward to the "Holiday Gala" for my
workplace.
The Ranch always has the party in January.
Two years ago, after I had just met him, we attended our first Ranch
Christmas party together.
Last year, we missed it because we were just returning from our
honeymoon.
This year, it was set for Friday, January 16 at 630p.
Perfect.
We had nothing else scheduled.
The party was to be held at "The Bluff," a scenic spot overlooking
the Pacific.
A white tent was promised as were great prizes and great food from
"Mark's Place."
We had never heard of "Mark's Place."
Cindy assured me that it was FABulous food, catered by some great
restaurant in Puhi. Yes... Puhi... an unlikely source, but Cindo
doesn't make this stuff up. She said they had catered weddings for a
few friends of hers and they usually had different stations for
different types of food.
The prizes were rumored to be incredible as well... although, I
pointed out to Tim that I rarely win prizes at parties.
Then came the forecast.
Two days prior to the big event came the cloud of gloom.
The meteorologists were forecasting that a powerful storm was headed
our way... high winds, reaching near 60 to 70 miles per hour were to
arrive just in time for the party.
I received two calls from my peeps at the Ranch, alerting me to the
fact that, because of the high winds expected, the party would simply
be postponed until next Friday.
That would be fine, except for the fact that next Friday, I am flying
to the Mainland to visit Dad.
My flight leaves at 930p.
I will need to be at the airport at 830p.
I will need to leave the North Shore at 730p.
The party starts at 630p.
No matter how you slice it... it comes up as: Polly and Timmer don't
get to go to the party.
We were both SUPER disappointed.
We had both been really looking forward to it.
Timmer wouldn't get to meet Cindy, whom he had heard SO much about...
as her last day at work is at the end of the month.
No prizes, no white tent, no seeing the significant others of my
workmates.
Wednesday night, I dreamt that the Holiday Gala was being held at the
Kilauea Theater.
I sat in a bus parked outside, as opposed to inside the theater,
where there were just too many people swirling around to have an
enjoyable time.
A battered wife sat in the seat in front of me. I don't recall ever
seeing her at work, but she seemed nice enough.
I heard that the food had arrived and I went inside the theater to
investigate.
They had delivered doughnuts from the Foodland.
Doughnuts... so much for "Mark's Place."
And the prizes? They had prepared a Christmas stocking for each
employee with money sticking out the top.
I woke up on Thursday and told Timmer all about it.
Yesterday was Friday the 16th.
Timmer insisted on driving me to work and keeping my car for reasons
of his own.
When I returned home at the end of the workday, he told me that I was
not to open any cabinets or the refrigerator because I would spoil
the surprise.
Finally, around 620p or so, he insisted that I go in the bedroom and
wait 10 minutes, until he came to get me.
After what seemed like twenty minutes, actually... he came and
retrieved me.
I emerged to find a beautifully set table with champagne and an
invitation to "The First Annual 'Just for Polly' Holiday Gala."
Also included was a menu of the evening's comestibles.
At the back corner of the table, by the window, was a plate with two
doughnuts and hung nearby was my Christmas stocking with folded bills
of money emerging from the top. Dreams really can come true!
"See! Just like in your dream!" he said, beaming ear-to-ear.
Then he brought me a stack of small, partially-divided pieces of
paper. Both sides had matching numbers and the half of each pair
that I was given also had words such as "Hug Me" and "Back off Bitch"
on them. These were for the prize drawings, he advised. He urged me
to look at my numbers as he was going to read out the number of the
first winner.
Imagine my surprise when I actually won something in the first go-round!
Out he came from the kitchen with the first doorprize of the
evening... a beautiful bouquet of flowers for our table.
He sat down and made a champagne toast to our gala and to me.
The champagne and the food were delicious.
We had a wonderful vegetable salad, followed by fresh organic sugar-
snaps, browned red potatoes and tenderloin medallions.
We ate the divine meal and then finished up the festivities with the
rest of the prize numbers being drawn.
Tiki was sure that the only reason the paper tickets were there was
to make his night that much more exciting.
I've never won so many prizes in my life!
Imagine the odds of that... at my very own gala!
The wind and rain raged on outside and we celebrated in style, all
cozy and dry.
The icing on the cake were the facts that, not only did Tiki get to
attend... but also... we didn't have to drive home!
Plus the fact that you couldn't beat the great company!
The best prize of all, of course, was having such a creative and
amusing husband to think the whole thing up.
It's nice when things work out like that!
Cheers!

The Clubhouse and the Cougar

... not a clubhouse like little boys hang out in and not a cougar
like the ones that scream in the night... well, no, I guess that's
not the right thing to say they don't do... they might, at that.


I was so caught up in that tale about the young doctors weekend
getaway, I forgot to regale the story about lunch at the clubhouse.
Lunch at the Koele clubhouse is just SO tasty.


You have to go at least once every visit.
They make this amazing salad that has avocadoes, turkey, bacon,
tomatoes, lettuce, etc.
It is to die for!
They have a sandwich that has the same stuff if you are not a salad
person.
You have a choice of balsamic vinaigrette or caesar dressing.
Last time I had caesar, this time balsamic.
I think I prefer the caesar.


They also mix the most amazing drinks there.
Top picks are the Mai Tai and the Lava Flow.
Their Lava Flow is unlike any other I have ever had... like the other
Lava Flows, it is basically a Pina Colada with a swirl of pureed
strawberry... but theirs also includes banana... YUMMY!!!
And of course, like all the best cocktails, you don't taste the alcohol.
It just tastes like a really good smoothie.


Tim ordered this huge roast beef sandwich with grilled onions and
peppers and cheese.
It's a little too glucktious (new word, don't bother looking it
up...) for my tastes, but he adores his meat.


So we were sitting there, on the outside deck, enjoying a view of the
greens and the most attractive lake/water hazard.
They have lovely outdoor seating, with big canvas umbrellas to shield
you from the sun as you enjoy your drinks and comestibles.


It's also a great place for people-watching.


There are always some golfers, of course... a clatch of Japanese were
gathered one table over. They were questioning the waitress on which
food could be served the fastest, as they had a tee time to make.


We, too, were originally going out, Tim was going to golf and I was
going to drive, but his back was hurting him too much and we decided
it was better to not spend the money if he was just going to further
injure himself. He said he would rather put the money towards me
getting a massage the next morning, which was really much appreciated and needed after that whole watch fiasco.


Then there was the table 2 down of two girls who obviously lived on
Lanai... they had come from some office where they work and probably visit the clubhouse for lunch frequently.


At the table beyond them was a woman most aptly described as a "cougar."


Her name was Sunny or Rocky or Staz or Jackson... something powerful that meant business.
She looked rather like Racquel Welch, and it was obvious she was no
stranger to the Good Life... she appeared to be an island resident.


She had deeply tanned skin and enjoyed trips to the spa with
uncompromising regularity.
An exquisite gold collar adorned her neckline and top-shelf cosmetics
glossed her weathered features.


She, like Tim, had ordered the roast beef sandwich, along with a Coors Light.
She always enjoyed fresh meat at every meal... having always been of
the opinion that salads were for little girls and homosexuals.


She was shopping buddies with Joan Collins and read books by Jackie
Collins.


Whatever she wanted, she got.
Without question.
Whomever stood in her way was annihilated.


She would not hesitate to invite the handsome young cabana boy back
to her suite.


On the court, she would strike a vicious serve and make you wish
you'd stayed safe in your lounge chair at the pool.


She found herself lost in a trashy paperback and the pleasures of the moment.


At long last, she polished off her sandwich, relishing the decadence of it all by licking the last droplet of gravy from her pinky and savoring the final sip of her Coors Light.


She slunk lazily in her chair with her long legs extended, tilted her head back and stretched languidly in the sun to enjoy the sultry afternoon on the clubhouse deck.


Where she went from there is anyone's guess...


Don't you just love the clubhouse?


Lunch at the clubhouse is always so much more than a feast for your palate... it's a feast for your imagination!


Bon appetit!

Watch this...

Don't you just love the ol' double entendre?

Firstly, I just found this amusing video put together by some woman and her boyfriend that stayed at the Lodge.

It really amused me.

Watch it here.

As for the other meaning...

Our first evening on Lanai, I couldn't find my watch.

It's a nice watch.  It's a damned nice watch.

I looked everywhere and it was nowhere.

I had taken it off before we went to the hot tub, around 2p.

I said, "I don't need this at the hot tub..."

Tim said, "You don't really need it all weekend..."

I remembered dropping it in somewhere... a pouch, a pocket, a bag... but where?

It was now around 7p and room service would be here soon with dinner.

I looked in every drawer.  I looked in the closet.  I looked in the bathroom.  I looked in my toiletry pouches.  I looked in my suitcase and in my tote bag, in every pocket.

It was nowhere.

Tim started looking.

He couldn't find it either.

We combed the entire room.

Finally, he said, "Well, somebody must've stolen it.  There's no other explanation."

We both found this really hard to believe as we were staying at a Four Seasons on a very small and friendly island.

Tim pointed out that not many would want to risk a good job like that by stealing a watch.

Finally, I called the front desk and told them that my watch was missing and thought they should know.

The man was very friendly and understanding and asked for a description of the watch.

"It was a Tag Heuer.  It was a sport-type watch," I said.  

"Ah yes... I know just the type... I have 3 of those myself..." he empathized.  

I continued on, "It had a pink mother-of-pearl dial and diamond markers where the numbers are."

He said he would tell Security and Housekeeping and to keep looking.

What was the point?  It was gone. 

I looked in the drawers a few more times and cried my eyes out thinking about my beautiful diamond watch that I had wanted for so many years and now it was gone.

Finally, I was over it.  

Whatever.

Dinner came, but we really didn't enjoy it as much as we should because of the missing watch.

Tim said he'd buy me a new one.

I said there was no point, that my ring looked better without it anyway... besides, they probably don't even make that watch anymore.

After dinner, I looked through everything again.

I looked in my tote bag.

I saw a zipper pull I hadn't noticed before.

The pocket was a large one that took up one whole side of the bag.  

The zipper ran along the entire side of the bag.  

Watch out for these bastards... they'll trick you every time.

I pulled the pull and looked inside.

It all looked very familiar now.

There was my watch at the bottom.

I said, "Here it is.  I found it."

Tim said, "Nuh-uh!"

"Here it is," I repeated, holding it up.

"You're a kook!" Tim said.

Isn't a husband's love wonderful?

The man calls me a kook.

Grrrr.

You married me.  

Who's calling whom a kook?

I called the man at the desk again.

I told him I had found the watch.

"I figured you would," he said easily.

Tim and I agreed that probably every other time someone had reported something stolen at that hotel, they found the item after further searching.

I do like my watch.  

It's pretty.

It's pink.

It has sparklies.

As I was saying...

I am over the rude interruptions!

We are back on Kauai now, and I haven't been drinking, so this entry might read a little less exciting.  Sorry.

 

There were just so many noisy game-players in that Trophy Room!  How's a girl supposed to type her stories?

 

So as I was saying, we had studied the young, attractive doctors and their families and we needed to find out more.

It was really no mean feat finding out the girl's name… I had caught a glimpse as she and her clan were trying to board the shuttle, but couldn't remember it. 

Fortunately, luck smiled on us and she was at the pool an hour later when T and I were lounging in the hot tub. 

The hot tub there, by the way, is nothing short of amazing.  It's not fancy to look at... but it's like being in a warm bath (not too hot) and very fizzy.  I felt like I was lounging in a large warm glass of champagne.  And there are two hot tubs, so if one is full, you just go to the other.

"There she is again," Tim said.  "And she's got the knapsack with her!" I noted.

She went in the bathroom to change her little one's diaper and I followed to see if maybe her knapsack was tag-up on the counter.  It was not.  I washed my hands and left.  Yeah, that's real normal… the girl from the hot tub comes in the bathroom to wash her hands before heading back to the bubbles…

 

Two minutes later, Tim said, "There's your chance.  She just dropped her bag over there."

She had indeed.

For some reason (I guess just so I could read her name, memorize it and google her), she had left her bag on the ground by the towel stand.

I walked over, stood there mometarily, looking at the towels and trying somehow to read her name upside down from above and to the side.

Finally, I felt the need to scratch my ankles.

I did so and finally got a good look at her name.

I originally had it posted on here, but then I thought, "What if she googles herself and my blog comes up and she thinks I'm some kinda psycho?"  

I know it would creep me out for sure if I found myself and my family on someone's blog, that's for sure!

Anyway, I looked her up later on the computer to see what kind of doctor she is.  She's an OB/GYN.  She looked very kind and she probably got high marks in school... she went to USC/Los Angeles.

On the shuttle leaving Koele Sunday, I found out her husband's name.  

This afternoon, I looked him up.

Turns out he's not a doctor at all... but he really would have looked at home in scrubs.

He's an artist... the big-money-making kind.  

Born and raised here in Hawaii, has BFA's from two different schools in San Francisco, has published a few children's books, has won art awards and has his art in the Hawaiian Congress and all sorts of other important places.

Timmer and I were really rather disgusted by their apparent success.  

They could be miserable, of course... but they seemed like quite the golden pair.

The talk on the shuttle bus was between several older doctors heading back to Honolulu after a weekend getaway.  

I heard the girl's name mentioned and they were talking about how it was a weekend of the attendings all getting away with their families.

All for now... will try to add more soon.

Thanks for reading!

Naughty bloggin'

Did you know that if you have one of these blogs, you can blog at work and email it and Blogger will post it for you?

Great for all of us to whom Internet access is restricted!

Talk soon!

Aloha,

P

Two Chocolate Martinis later...

Am I pixillated? Signs point to "yes" ! Timmer and I are here on the beautiful, friendly isle of Lanai. It's Saturday, July 19 and we arrived yesterday at 11:10am. Our shuttle whisked us and a load of Japanese to the exclusive Four Seasons Lodge at Koele without delay.  Oh... and there was this older American guy too... I knew he was going to be coming to the Lodge with us and not to Manele (where it's all fun-in-the-sun).  He was tall and thin and had a bold shock of white hair, along with a white turtleneck and black slacks.  He had Koele written all over him!  He looked like a Calvin Klein poster gent. Also attempting to board our shuttle was a bevy of, I think, three couples and their assorted offspring.  All very attractive.  The husband of one couple had Asian eyes and the wife of another couple was likewise.  I think maybe they were siblings on a family outing together.  The Asiany man with tousled curls and a faunlike presence was the father of an adorable little girl who looked like Kelly's daughter, Ela.  His wife was sweet-faced and had shoulder-length, honey blonde hair.  As she swept past with the babe in arms, I caught a glimpse of the tag on her knapsack:  "Alexandra S, M.D." Mr. Asian Faun looked like an M.D. as well... they probably met at the hospital, when they were both interns... or maybe he was an attending... I've seen Grey's Anatomy, I know how all this goes down. *** and now a break in our story *** Sorry, I am in the Trophy Room and a HORRIBLE loud hoard of humans has just infiltrated.  Two dark men with strong Arabian accents and their spawns, from what it sounds like... I have yet to turn around... they are "breaking" on the pool table and reading the rules aloud and I have absolutely no interest in spinning my yarns of magic with them in attendance.  GEEZ! Screw it! I'm going to go find Timmer and head out to putt on the Executive Putting Green. Sorry to end this so abruptly, as my writing when I've been drinking is usually really enjoyable, but I can't take the interference. More later!

Ring around the rosies...

Well hopefully, this doesn't end up as "We all fall down!"

Oh, happy day!

As usual, Tim got up this morning at 5a and left for work around 545a.  

After an hour or so, I fell back to sleep and was dreaming about doing reindeer tryouts at this university campus that had huge green lawns and endless stone steps in the distance.

Woke up still tired, as I heard a door shut.

Who was in my house?

I hopped out of bed and popped a house dress over my head.

I peeked out the window to see Tim and some man in the driveway.  

I figured they must have come to retrieve some tools or map or something that T had left behind.

This was most peculiar.

Eventually, the man drove away in the truck and T came inside.

It turns out that T's boss (we'll call him "D") let him and 99% of the other employees "go," because they were too expensive and he was receiving flack from HQ.  Plus, what their job is is to replace water meters and they've run out of new meters to put in the ground.  A shipment is on the way, but no one knows when it will arrive.

Tim was his star worker and yet here he is, laid off.  D kept a few of the young kids, because they're cheaper to pay... but you would think he would tell Tim, "I can't afford you at your current price, but I'd love to have you stay on if you don't mind taking a hefty wage cut..."

Bossman "D" has always sounded kinda insane to me and this really fits right in with his bizarre profile.

Tim had told me that his boss had been telling him how he hopes to retire in another 7 years (this guy's 36 years old) and build himself a "compound" in Arkansas, where he can load up on ammo and fight whatever terrorists may come his way... 

"Oh, they're coming... just a matter of time..." he has said, adding, "... and if it's after I'm dead and gone, the fortress will be there for my kids, to protect them..."

Yeah, that's real normal!

So, on top of all this, I go to put on my diamond wedding band.  

I find I have a bumpy thickening of the skin on the inside of my ring finger, on the side facing my middle finger.

I pushed the ring over it anyway... surely, I'm not expected to face the day without my sparkles!

Bad idea.

My finger was pink and itchy and uncomfortable.

I went and lubed it up with soap and water and forced the ring back off.

The finger, of course, greatly appreciates this force and responds by feeling even more chafed and hard.

Not happy!

Did a google on "rash by ring."

Turns out there's three long pages of posts by people who have the same reaction to their platinum wedding rings.  And this is after they've been wearing them for years.

Interestingly enough, many of these people say they went to expensive stores to buy their rings so they would have top quality and many chose platinum to avoid any allergic reactions.

Then it turns out that just oodles and oodles of these peeps boil their rings for 20 minutes in a 2:1 ratio of distilled white vinegar and hydrogen peroxide.  Several people say they're considering the same thing and write "scary" in parentheses along with this suggestion. 

Why it is scary to boil your diamonds and platinum in peroxide and vinegar, I'm still a little unclear, but whatever.

I jumped on the bubbling brew bandwagon, so now my ring is clean... it just needs to wait until my finger recovers.

How many years did I wait for such a ring?  And now this!

On top of it all, we are going to Lanai for 2 nights on Friday and you'd better believe that neither Tim nor myself have any interest in flying away without those diamonds on my finger.

The Four Seasons is wonderful on its own... but so much more wonderful with a band of diamonds on your finger.

I am currently wearing the ring around my neck on my Tahitian black pearl chain.  It's yellow gold, so it's a less-than-thrilling combo... but what's a girl to do?

We went to the lighthouse to forget our worries... it was hot and there were about a b'zillion cars on the road.  I so wish they would all go back where they came from!

Tomorrow, we must foray to town to get my oil changed, get catfood from the feed supply store and also get papers for T from the unemployment office.  Turns out they won't give him money based on his most recent pay... they total up what you've made in the past year and do an average from that.

My response?

Suckwad!

Lanai in 2 days... and yes, we are holding our collective breaths!