Tag Archives: Mr. F

What the hey?  It’s April and we are still getting dumped on with snow?  I would give anything to be back here:

Rainbow Tower, Hilton Hawaiian Village

A room with a view:

From our window on the 31st floor

I love looking at all of the sailboats in the harbor.  Can you believe I never ventured over to the other window to take a few snaps of our beach? 

Venturing out on the lava rocks

While Mr. Farish was busy working I was busy visiting all of my favorite places:

Sunning … Eating … Shopping… Eating … Visiting … Eating … Remembering … Eating … Snorkeling … Eating … Relaxing … Eating … Hiking … Eating … Meeting … Eating … Chinatown … Eating … International Market Place … Eating… North Shore Waves … Lobster… Cemetaries… Roadside Shrimp Stands … Lobster … but best of all …  Time with my man … Heaven!

The Friendly Skies

Back from Hawaii with lots to tell … But before I do, let me share a bit about our flights …

> Our outbound flight attendants from SLC to LA were the classic kind that looked down their noses at each passenger and seemed incredibly bored to be amongst the lower classes.  Resign yourself to self-suffiecieny because they are just waaaaaaaaay to busy to deal with minions.
> LA to Hawaii – Some of the perkiest fellas ever!  Swishy doesn’t begin to describe it … it was more of a sashay-glide thing.  SOOOO super swell to watch… beverage service was the BEST.  I asked for water, no pretzels etc.  Picture this:  The right eyebrow raises, the hands fly up to the chest as he exclaims, “oh, honey are you shorrrre about that?”  … instant bonding that earned me little winks of understanding the rest of the flight.  (in hindsight, he was probably directing those winks to Mr. Farish … who slept almost the entire flight)
> HI back to SLC – definitely the “senior attendants”  I swear not a one was under 60 years old!  Swear to it!  Old, gray and utterly worn out after the first foray down the aisle with the beverage cart.  Poor ol’ gays and gals!  Lane and I were laughing like giddy punch-drunk college kids as we watched the ubber red lipstick of one glide ever so slowly down her mouth lines and onto her chin … you’ve all seen your Aunt Marge after tea … the cheek powder is caking, the lipstick smearing and oh my, are people really still painting on their eyebrows?  (I wonder if one gets tired of always looking so surpised?)  I have never in my life seen such a filthy airplane at the conclusion of a flight.  The senior citizens, clearly up way past their usual 7 pm bedtime had definitely given in to exhaustion!  trash everywhere and believe it or not, some of the seniors were actually sitting down instead of thanking us for flying … I think the utterance of a simple “Buh-bye” might very well have exhausted their very last breath… therefore, conserve.  
Sometimes the in-flight antics are better than the in-flight movies … of which I saw many.

in-flight food service?  go here:  http://sandraspantry.wordpress.com


In a few short hours Mr. Farish and I will be boarding a plane for Hawaii.  A spur of the moment vacation for me and a working vacation for Mr. F.  I can’t begin to tell you how timely this is.   See you in seven days … Aloha!

Tucking Fat Folds

Question:  If your spouse snores (although he adamantly denies that he snores), would a jury of your peers (assuming they are married to snoring spouses – since that is what makes them your peers) find you innocent and uphold your claim of justifiable homicide?  Hmmm.  Something to ponder following another night of little sleep. 

I love Mr. Farish.  I do.  I do not love watching and listening to him as he delves deeper into a REM state leaving me floating on the surface of dreamland.  I do not love hearing his nasal passages expressing their joy as they are released from the confines of his body.  I do not love prodding him to turn over only to have him release a thick stream of hot-steamy-stinky-confined air into my face in the process.  Aarrgghh!  Now to be fair it isn’t entirely his fault, but come on, snoring is not an enjoyable lullaby in which one can easily be lulled into slumber. 

Last night was one of those never-really-got-into-REM-nights.  We’ve all had them.  You toss and turn, readjust the pillow, kick off the blankets, put the blankets back on, lay on your left side, roll to the right … all the while your spouse sleeps soundly on.  On nights like this I usually have really strange thoughts/dreams.  While still aware of household sounds my mind is strangely transferred, bringing forth thoughts I dare not think during the day.  Suddenly I have a zillion failures.  All the woulda-coulda-shoulda’s come floating to the surface.  The deliciously dark chocolate covered raisins I snacked on earlier have suddenly turned into large masses of blubbery fat, that quickly adhere to various parts of my person ala Gwyneth Paltrow in Shallow Hal.  Roll over.  Fluff pillow.  Kick off blankets.  Doze.  I am now standing on the scale and watch as the needle inches higher and higher.  I envision tucking fat-folds into my pants, trying to zip them up.  Looking down and not finding my toes.  Doom.  I haven’t paid the bills.  I missed an important meeting.  I haven’t studied for finals, (am I the only person that still has finals nightmares?).  Roll over, fluff pillow, pull blankets up, poke Mr. F. who is still blissfully sleeping whilst continuing to snore up a thunderous storm. Watch clock. Roll. Toss. Fluff.  Turn.  And on it goes until the only sound worse than snoring is released into the room … meep-meep-meep …