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shannon_aThe picnic table is surrounded by chains. Signs on them read "Private Property". No one can sit at that table on penalty of trespassing.
Attendees of the Hanapepe Art Walk wander up and down the street with food in their hands, looking for somewhere to sit.
But the picnic table sits alone.
Eleven Hours Earlier.
I'm somewhat surprised to find light absolutely flooding our bedroom when I wake up. I can't believe I slept through that. Later I look at my FitBit records and learn that I got about seven and three-quarters of an hour of sleep while in bed for eight hours.
Back in the Bay Area, that would be nothing short of a miracle.
I've got ants in my pants, or at least a FitBit on my wrist that's spent the last ten months or so brainwashing me into moving.
So, I've already decided that I'm going to go out for a walk after breakfast, while Kimberly is getting a complementary house massage. Happily, my dad joins me.
We drive up to the golf course, because here in the real-world, as opposed to our protected little enclave in Berkeley, that's how life works: you drive to walk.
I've walked around the golf course one other time that I can remember, but we take some different routes this time. We start out going up some wooded paths that are just beautiful. I love paths that are wide, yet crowded in by trees, and this one qualifies.
Eventually we emerge out on the open green and walk out to the pavilion. We circle around it, but I'm still not particularly sure what the pavilion is. Wikipedia says it's a free-standing structure, which really isn't that helpful, because that sounds like another word for building.
However, the pavilion really isn't the point. Instead, the point is the gorgeous views you get near the pavilion, where you can look across Kalaheo Gulch toward the southern coast of the Island.
It's gorgeous.
We continue to dodge golf balls on the way back to the car.
Next up is Costco.
I discover that the increasing number of things I'm not eating — which now includes caffeine, spice, tomatoes, and alcohol — is a big pain in the butt.
We get lunch meat for the week and enough meat for dinners to last a month. Because it's Costco.
Included is a pack of five pounds or so of bacon. The folks are apparently now eating bacon and eggs every morning instead of fruit, as part of a healthier diet.
We stop by Safeway afterward to pick up some bagels as a breakfast alternative.
You can't have a vacation in Hawaii without swimming. So in the afternoon my dad and I do.
Poipu is one of my favorite beaches, ever since our first trip here in 2001.
When my dad and I swim, it always involves a lot of talking. This can be tough when waves are constantly splashing over you.
When we're at Poipu we usually end up talking about the two different sharks that my dad has seen at the beach.
Fun times.
The jailed picnic table is at our fourth and final event for the day: the evening's Hanapepe Art Walk. We go every year: Kimberly looks at jewelry, we sometimes gawk at art, then we all get food to eat.
The table was our savior last year, because it was the only dry place on yet another rainy night in Hanapepe. Apparently its owners were offended by that, because now it's fenced off. It's a mocking rebuttal to the Aloha Spirit that folks with handfuls of food walk by every single Friday.
For once it's not raining though.
We eat on a bench atop a pedestal.
I glare across the street at the table the whole time.
Attendees of the Hanapepe Art Walk wander up and down the street with food in their hands, looking for somewhere to sit.
But the picnic table sits alone.
Eleven Hours Earlier.
I'm somewhat surprised to find light absolutely flooding our bedroom when I wake up. I can't believe I slept through that. Later I look at my FitBit records and learn that I got about seven and three-quarters of an hour of sleep while in bed for eight hours.
Back in the Bay Area, that would be nothing short of a miracle.
I've got ants in my pants, or at least a FitBit on my wrist that's spent the last ten months or so brainwashing me into moving.
So, I've already decided that I'm going to go out for a walk after breakfast, while Kimberly is getting a complementary house massage. Happily, my dad joins me.
We drive up to the golf course, because here in the real-world, as opposed to our protected little enclave in Berkeley, that's how life works: you drive to walk.
I've walked around the golf course one other time that I can remember, but we take some different routes this time. We start out going up some wooded paths that are just beautiful. I love paths that are wide, yet crowded in by trees, and this one qualifies.
Eventually we emerge out on the open green and walk out to the pavilion. We circle around it, but I'm still not particularly sure what the pavilion is. Wikipedia says it's a free-standing structure, which really isn't that helpful, because that sounds like another word for building.
However, the pavilion really isn't the point. Instead, the point is the gorgeous views you get near the pavilion, where you can look across Kalaheo Gulch toward the southern coast of the Island.
It's gorgeous.
We continue to dodge golf balls on the way back to the car.
Next up is Costco.
I discover that the increasing number of things I'm not eating — which now includes caffeine, spice, tomatoes, and alcohol — is a big pain in the butt.
We get lunch meat for the week and enough meat for dinners to last a month. Because it's Costco.
Included is a pack of five pounds or so of bacon. The folks are apparently now eating bacon and eggs every morning instead of fruit, as part of a healthier diet.
We stop by Safeway afterward to pick up some bagels as a breakfast alternative.
You can't have a vacation in Hawaii without swimming. So in the afternoon my dad and I do.
Poipu is one of my favorite beaches, ever since our first trip here in 2001.
When my dad and I swim, it always involves a lot of talking. This can be tough when waves are constantly splashing over you.
When we're at Poipu we usually end up talking about the two different sharks that my dad has seen at the beach.
Fun times.
The jailed picnic table is at our fourth and final event for the day: the evening's Hanapepe Art Walk. We go every year: Kimberly looks at jewelry, we sometimes gawk at art, then we all get food to eat.
The table was our savior last year, because it was the only dry place on yet another rainy night in Hanapepe. Apparently its owners were offended by that, because now it's fenced off. It's a mocking rebuttal to the Aloha Spirit that folks with handfuls of food walk by every single Friday.
For once it's not raining though.
We eat on a bench atop a pedestal.
I glare across the street at the table the whole time.