Hawaiian Honeymoon

After three days at the swanky Stoneleigh Hotel in uptown Dallas (or is it Dallas Uptown?), I had to leave for a five-day business trip on the big island of Hawaii.

"Come with me," I cajoled, winningly.

"You'll be working. I have to work, too," he replied, matter-of-factly.

"All we have to pay for is your air fare. The hotel's paid for, the rent car is paid for, my air fare is paid for, my food is paid for. Come on." So much for my winning ways, now I was whining.

"I can't take another five days off work." He was firm.

(POUT) (That was me.)

"I can't go. You love Hawaii--you'll have a blast. And besides, you went to Hawaii for your FIRST TWO HONEYMOONS. Let's not tempt fate."

"Hey, I wore a round ring on the fourth finger of my left hand on my first two honeymoons, too, but you don't seem worried about that karma."

"Well, you could stay home and cancel the trip."

"ALOHA!" Aloha means hello and love--but it also means good-bye!

So I went to Hawaii on my honeymoon. Again. But this time by myself. And I DID have a blast! I snorkeled at night with manta rays and spent a day taking a circle island tour with 52 new best friends on a rainbow-painted bus. I posed for one-armed photos of myself in front of waterfalls, palm trees, sea turtles, volcanoes, and black sand beaches which I emailed instantly home to my absent husband.

The picture I sent before I swam with manta rays

The "after" picture. I DID IT!

I ate my way around the island, reliving my past through shave ice, arare, li hing mui, and plate lunches of shoyu chicken and teriyaki beef with rice and macaroni salad, pictures of which I also sent homeward, mostly to my brother who was texting me regularly about da kine.

But the best part about the trip was having someone to come home to!

We Eloped!

July 23, 2009

6:00 PM

Dallas LDS Temple

The ceremony was blissfully simple and short and got delayed a few hours so that our surprise witness, my son Dane, could make it. I was grateful that he was there and that it was over so quickly; my new husband was grateful that we were not asked to perform the "look into the mirrors and see yourselves going on into eternity" trick, which he labeled maudlin and unoriginal. I wouldn't have minded the mirror trick--probably wouldn't have even remembered it, since I remember little else. I can't believe how nervous I was! All I remember for sure is that it felt right. And how we both suppressed giggles when we were admonished, at ages 55 and 53, to go forth, multiply, and replenish the earth!

The Checklist

Letter from SLC - check

Temple recommends signed by stake prez - check

Dress hemmed - check

Cowboy boots buffed- check

Suit picked up from cleaners - check

Ring - check

Solar nails to go with ring + 2 big toe acrylic nails (who knew) - check

Suitcases packed - check
Hilari's present packed - check

Selena's present packed - check

Hotel reservation made - check

Dallas Temple reserved - check

Witness (Dane) contacted - check

Last day checked off the calendar - CHECK!!!

Choosing a Date

OK, now we have the letter, how about getting married this weekend?

Wait-what?! I'm still unpacking! I can't even find my Q-tips yet!

Well, I can't get married next weekend because of work--I'm booked up. What about the weekend after that?

I don't know--I have a three-day contract in Houston, get back for a few days and then leave for Hawaii that Sunday for a five-day contract over there. And then I work in Houston almost every weekday in August.

So...do we have to wait until September? By then, our marriage license will have expired.

Hmmm...I don't really care about the license--we can just get a new one--but I don't want to wait until September. OK, let's get out our calendars...

The Letter

The Letter from SLC finally came in the mail! It said, basically "You have permission to marry her in the temple." And I would put a copy of the three signatures at the bottom of the letter right here except that just about the only other sentence in the whole letter was "You do not have permission to copy this letter." But these are the three guys whose autographs we have in our possession until we surrender the letter at the temple of our choice:

Pack. Rat.

I have a confession to make. I am a pack rat. I know this because I have been packing for the last four days and there is still so much stuff that it doesn't even look like I've started packing. It's so bad that I asked my friends if we could turn my Night On The Town party into a Packing Party. And now I'm off to the Box Store again for more packing supplies.

Note to self: Next time you move, even if you have a small three-bedroom house, do not think that you can just buy the "Small Three-Bedroom House" box kit. HA HA HA.

This Girl Deserves a Party

"We want to throw you a party," my visiting teachers said one day, "Do you want to get a limo and see a Broadway show, have a night on the town? Where would you like to go? Who would you like to invite?"

Oh, boy. A party! Should we go to the exclusivo Vargo's with the famous gardens that I've always wanted to see?

Or how about Rainbow Lodge, the quaint hunting cabin set on an acre of flowers in the middle of the city, famous for its wild game? (I once ate emu and buffalo there--on the same plate!)
Then there was the new Grove restaurant right in the heart of downtown Houston, among the skyscrapers, but surrounded by a city park. Their rooftop dining area is called the Treehouse.In the end, we ditched the limo idea and decided we'd rather just hang out yacking together at a local joint rather than spend the evening sitting in expensive velvet seats facing forward and listening to highly-paid professionals sing to us.

Now my friends are beginning to RSVP for the event and asking if I'm registered anywhere. Not yet. Can you register at Cindie's? I don't cook!