St. Bob certainly deserves his title. This time he took me on a surprise vacation to Hawaii for our anniversary. What a guy.
He even entertained me on the balcony of our rented beachside condo. When doves, cardinals, and myna birds fluttered in hoping for crumbs, he adopted a tough-guy accent and said, “Hey. No mynas allowed here. You gotta be at least 18.” Ba-doom-boom.
We were on the island of Kauai, which gets frequent rain. It also has about a zillion chickens and roosters. And I can now report to you that “mad as a wet hen” is a complete misnomer. These drenched hens were not one bit mad, nor were they seeking dry shelter. They simply went pecking about, the same as if the sun had been shining. You’re welcome.We ate fabulous food and saw gorgeous scenery. Then we went tubing, boogie boarding, and scuba diving.
Afterwards, one of the divers said she saw an octopus. Uh-oh. I felt my face turning red. Do you think she saw my super-curly post-chemo hair?
All too soon it was time to go home. Our dear friends, Alex and Nancy Theriault, picked us up at the airport at midnight and drove us home. But the battery in our button code door lock had died, so we were locked out.
Alex came to the rescue, crawled through our doggie door, and let us in. But of course! This is Joniopolis.
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