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We flew into Kona Saturday night, joining friends here for a week together on Hawaii. So far so good. Each of my kids has a friend their age to play with, and we’re having fun designing great meals and excursions together.

The day started well. We bought enough groceries yesterday to open a restaurant, so this morning everyone made their way in and chose their perfect breakfast. We decided on a beach to conquer, and packed lunches and snacks. We are ten people. This is a production.


So by eleven (island time), I’m sitting on Hapuna Beach. Life is very good. Knitting, novel, and kids on boogie boards. Peggy is connected by cell to Mardi Gras in New Orleans, vicariously enjoying the party there. Whales making intermittent appearances beyond the swimmers. Please, don’t feel sorry for me. The passion fruit smoothie got a little messy…




On the way back to Keauhou, I started to work through my wish list of what I hoped to do and see while we’re here. Not a long list, but a few things. Cloud forest, volcano, whale watch, snorkeling, a couple of restaurants. Buy a pair of flip-flops (one cannot say thongs anymore, and expect footwear). I just figure when traveling in a group this big, it helps to get everyone’s hopes out on the table at the beginning, rather than the end of trip. Then we can go home glad to have had each other along.

It was supremely helpful to have them here this evening, when John had to go to the emergency room.

Do not try this at home. Do not try this anywhere. John slipped on wet tile and sailed down several sharp steps, his foot and ankle twisted beneath him. Instantly, Mr. Former Marine turned into a gasping, crying, screaming mess. With a little cooperation, we were able to get him into the car and off to the hospital. This is how to see the real Hawaii.


I’m here to tell you, Hawaiian hospitality extends to the local health care infrastructure. The good people at Kona Community Hospital are very nice. My husband was relieved he didn’t break his ankle and foot. He's on crutches for the duration. We’ll see how much of the above-named wish list survives. Poor baby.