Showing posts from July, 2013


“How’s the bathroom?”
Ian shrugs, “The usual.”
I nod. Why the hell doesn’t Hawaii clean its public restrooms? It’s Paradise in every other way, but the bathrooms?
I rise from my shady view of the lovely sea, snorkelers dotting the surface, the clouds floating over the blue grey sky. I do need to use the restroom, but…..
Sighing, I venture over.
Poke my head in first, the dark, dank, sandy, cave of the public elimination situation.
It is unusable.
Now. I know I’m a bit squeamish, but hell, I did travel and live in China. I think I’m pretty tough when it comes to bathrooms, but….today?
I simply can’t.
I will spare my more squeamish readers the terrifying details.
Use your imagination.
Or not.

“I can’t use this bathroom,” I announce.
“That’s too bad,” Ian points to the sea, “it looks like there’s a lot going on out there. It’d be nice to swim here.”
We’re up past Sunset Beach, at Pupukea beach, in Oahu's North Shore area. The sea is calm in the summer and I long t…


“Is That yours?” P nods toward the mysterious orange lotion in the shadows. She had noticed it when Retrieval Woman had left the sauna. The bottle was enticing. P likes to steal product left behind at the gym even though this goes against the Y’s Core Values. Maybe because it’s against these values?

No, P just likes free stuff. So she’d been eying the orange lotion when RW had reentered the sauna and claimed her elixir.

Laughing softly, RW shakes her head, a strong accent (Russian? Czech? Something Eastern European?) accompanying her embarrassed reply. “Yes, it is mine. I have it for my Fat Stomach.” She giggles strangely. “It gets fatter everyday. I eat a lot of bread and.....”

Her voice trails off as P nods, wondering how the Orange Lotion fits in with Bread Overindulgence.

“Do you swim?” P asks, knowing that she doesn’t but it seems like a good topic to bring up in light of the Fat Stomach Situation.

RW shakes her head, “Oh, no. I do not swim.”

“That’s too bad,” P replies, thoug…