Shoveling Down the Greens

I have been dipped in Hawaii like a Dairy Queen cone and I never want to crack the sugar shell. From my sea-green toenails, to my skin that’s been baked to a sand-colored crisp, to my darkening hair that’s been waved and salt-cured like a piece of driftwood...I feel like Wednesday Adams, painted into the wallpaper; if I close my eyes I could blend into my surroundings and never come home. But, to home I must go. To save and reflect and continue onward. I’ve been playing around with the idea of staying here. As Joy says, it’s not expensive—it’s expansive. I agree, but I also paid my bills today and vacation Hawaii has sapped my non-expansive savings. Also, I don’t think vacation Hawaii and remote work Hawaii will be one in the same. However, this was a beautiful reset. The much-needed better half of my first solo trek. And, as Liz says, a step in my ongoing migration. I realized the other day that what I love so much about Hawaii beyond the ocean are the mountains she’s built on. ...

Liz and I once stood in line next to Joshua Jackson at LAX and his naked feet next to my naked feet was the celebrity highlight of my life—until this morning. That peak Pacey moment was nothing compared to the starlet I met today. For there, poking his beautiful yellow face out of the water, mouth open in what I like to think was a smile, not once, not twice, but three times for some big gulps of air before going back on his merry way, was a sea turtle. His black eyes were looking up—while I was looking at him, not five feet away. My heart exploded. I mean, how much can a girl take? Waking up to rainbows not only on the horizon, but reflected in the water. Walking into bath-warm water for an hour-long wade in a jade green sea that matches my toes. Floating next to a Pomeranian on a boogie board, for crying out loud. I didn’t think the day could get any better, but as I drove to Haleiwa, IZ on the radio, top down, my resting heart rate just above coma, I felt the peace that ofte...

Everyone seems to be coming up with a word for the new year. Intention. Forgiveness. Listening. I'm no good with following through on things long-term (hence, the six year gap in posts on this blog) unless I really take them to heart--or they feed and clothe me. But one word has kept popping up throughout the past week--from the moment the valley first revealed herself to me coming around that rugged pass, to the basketball I played in honor of the kids who grew up in Manzanar on their deserted white dust court, to the many, many truckers I passed or gave way to as I shared the road with them over 1,000+ miles. Respect.  Sometimes, I think, being a Northeasterner makes me too anxious to give a situation the respect it deserves. We're always in such a hurry. We're competitive. We've been hardened by blizzards and a New York Napoleon complex and navigating old cow paths that make no sense to anyone but us (but, god forbid, should an outsider make a mistake and need to cha...

My eyes really didn't know what to do with themselves today. I don't know about you, but 2020 hasn't been a year to turn off. It's rare to just sit and look at something without a task at hand: texting, typing, watching, plotting, reading subtitles. To just sit and stare at this canyon...I had to mentally whack myself to keep from reaching for my phone, a snack, thinking about where I wanted to visit next, how long I wanted to stay in the park, if my mask was in place, etc. It wasn't the canyon's fault. My god. She's such a thing of beauty, I almost hesitated to walk up to the first fence. My heart was so full of wonder not just at the size, but the years--the centuries and epochs and massive weather extremes--it took to carve her land. And it's not like I hadn't seen beauty all the live-long day. The drive from Vegas to the Grand Canyon is just plain fun, especially on a sunny day. (Do they even have non-sunny days out this way?) The journey starts ...

Last night, I fought sleep. Endlessly mulling: what is this trip? Is it a vacation? Is it an existential journey? A combination of both--or neither? My number one trait on Strengthsfinder is strategic; I'm a natural born plotter, constantly crafting workarounds to get to the finish line. But, for some reason, with this trip, I'm having a hard time even seeing the tape. It was all so clear in the summertime: meet friends in the National Parks. Then covid stripped the friends from the equation. Now, winter weather and lost permit lotteries have stolen half of said parks. Fear and some self-recognition have helped me make it to the weekend. I may as well have tossed my famous color-coded itinerary into the fire. Where do we go from here?   Christmas five years ago was a similar panic. The first after my parents split. I remember trying to drag the tree up the basement steps, but the box was too big for my freakishly child-sized hands. Dry cardboard on small palms. I couldn't g...

I wish I had some life-altering revelation to share with you today, but, really, I just took a bath. Bubble, of course. It was hot and deep and glorious. (Don't get any ideas.) I started Lovestruck in the City and am hoping the surf scenes are a sign of things to come. Taking my covid test in the morning and if the results go my way...I'll be Honolulu-bound on Tuesday! Disney will always be there, but for some reason the flights to Orlando were not. I don't know if JetBlue has pulled back--it's suffering for sure. But that, paired with the cost of the hotels on property, quickly set my heart a Googling, and Hawaii has been a spiritual home for me for years. Remember how hard it was for me to connect to the land in Lone Pine? Complete opposite. Imagine a lush playground you can stroll and tumble along until you feel like taking a long float in a clear green sea. That's my Hawaii.  If anyone else has huge travel banks waving their little hands, shouting, I'm stil...

Going from the valley to the strip is like a personal ice bucket challenge. In four days, I interacted with a handful of people. In one hour, I've walked among hundreds. Inside, outside, inside fake outside...  This place is surreal--and so bright. Last night, from the tranquility of my room high above the gambling fray, the frenzy of lights was romantic. Like watching a winter storm from the safety of a warm house. Stepping into the ruckus today, it wasn't long before I got caught in the feathers of a flamingo dancer (I thought I could limbo that situation but I'm not as limber as I'd hoped), stupidly turned circles to exit a swarm of bachelor parties, and made evil eyes at an evil couple who just couldn't keep six feet away while waiting in line at the Bellagio. (Yes, I realize my attraction is potent, but if you could just hang tight, we'll all see the Chinese garden in due time.)  I hesitantly tapped my foot to the water show (Billy Jean), took pics of the ...

Nine years ago I made one of the worst decisions of my life. To run a 10-mile race at 10:00 p.m. in 80-degree weather and 100% humidity after eating...a quiche. (You can guess where this is going.) It was Disney World's first (and last?) Tower of Terror Ten Miler. Running for my favorite ride in my favorite pink tutu with my favorite person cheering me on from the sidelines. Three miles deep and I was good. I got this. I hadn't trained very much, but fresh from the half marathon, I thought, cool cool cool. Keep going.  And then. The quiche. Tears and sweat were indistinguishable in the port-a-potty. All I knew was I had paid $200+ and I was not going to quit. Three hours later, I straggled over the finish line, drained and dehydrated. Everyone around me was throwing up. My brother even got sick--and he made great time. And, yet, there was my Liz. Shining and smiling and having the night of her life while waiting for me. She rode rides, ate snacks, even witnessed a proposal--whi...

The mountains are calling and I must go...home. I've felt unsettled from the moment I hit the valley, and have been chasing my tail all week. (Yes, I know it's only been four days, but solitude magnifies everything.) What am I doing here? Why does this place make me feel so small and terrified between the moments when I'm tucked safely in the car, the silence pummeled into submission by my Spotify? Did I make the right choice? Why is this so hard?   Can I go the distance? I think, technically, I can. I'm able-bodied, have read Eat, Pray, Love , have taken the month off from work. But, rationally, I don't think I want to. Not alone. And, as Niamh said today, I need to give myself the permission to create that boundary for myself. This land is too vast for a Calico Critter like me. Of the three bedrooms in the AirBnB, this Goldilocks chose the coziest, with just enough room for a bed and two nightstands. In my apartment back home, there isn't a wall free from phot...

Today I saw a sky I’d only dreamed of as a child wandering the aisles of the Hilltop grocery store and steak house. There used to be a little Mexican man on a donkey—I presumed he was Mexican due to his sombrero and growing up in a blindly white privileged corner of the East Coast. He was a comic-like mannequin who presided on a shelf above the meat refrigerators. He was all I ever wanted to see when dragged on a trip to the store; I couldn’t wait to bypass the produce and look up. To my little eyes he wasn’t just at our market; he was on a grassy plain with cowboys on the lookout and a cactus I could never touch. I imagined him sitting around a fire (after store hours, of course), cooking up a can of beans, the mountains in shadow behind him and a midnight sky swallowing up the rest of the tableau. Stars would wink with abandon, just as Mrs. Bennett did to poor, confused Kitty. And a chorus of Home on the Range would lull the troop to sleep. What I’m saying is, my imagination is not...

Why did I come to a place called Death Valley—of all things—during the time of covid? As I drove from Vegas to Lone Pine, the aptly named location of my remote AirBnB, I asked this question a lot. I looked back on naïve Kristin, neatly planning a national parks tour, treating online maps how I imagine my mom friends treat Animal Crossing. A canyon here. A turnip there. It’s all so tempting when the directions show it can be done in two hours—or less, if you’re an aggressive Masshole! I’d had knots in my stomach the night before when my best friend came over to wish me well. I still wasn’t sure if the journey I was about to embark on would be the full California culmination of months of planning and a medium’s validation or…a galaxy of blue lines I’d plucked from Google.   Technically, I was fine. Fit and covid-free so far, in a brand new Volvo fancier than the Golf I’d left behind. K-pop knocking out my ear drums. A hundred dollars of “ooh that looks yum ” snacks and groceries ...