Over the next few weeks, I’m going to post a series of synopses of my upcoming publications, one at a time. If you have an opinion on any (or all) of them, I’d love to hear it. The first one is very personal, but some are based on other members of my family and others are entirely fictional. I hope there's something for everyone! I need to decide before long on the order of publishing, so any input would be great.
     
Synopsis: The Happy Man’s Daughter
 
    Growing up as The Happy Man’s Daughter, I found my dad, Cliff’s, persistent optimism irritating and naïve. “Think warm thoughts,” he’d tell me if I complained about being cold. When I was a kid, I can’t tell you how many times he referenced the little engine that could. When I was a teen and got depressed, he’d say, “I’m okay. You’re okay.” Drove me crazy!
    He worked in Mayfield, Kentucky, for the Howard D. Happy Company. His customers referred to him as the Happy man. Although his life was far from easy, his indomitable spirit survived, and he tried to instill it through the generations into his progeny.
      In The Happy Man’s Daughter, I become the first college graduate in the family and go on to earn a doctorate at Vanderbilt, all the while questioning my place in the world and the true worth of the choices I’ve made. As I meditated on the role in my life played by family, faith, and fortune, I developed a collection of stories to explore my roots, adolescence, and search for purpose.
     This memoir provided an opportunity to examine four aspects of my life and the myriad experiences and people who have made me who I am: sex and other sins; I’ve got a crush on you; my father’s influence; and being me. 

Apart from my son, the two men I know best are my dad and my husband. I would have said they are nothing alike, but today I caught myself thinking of a few similarities, as well as several differences.

In general, my father has always been an optimist, always encouraging me and my sister to be the same. Yet, because of this optimism, he often sets himself up for disappointment. When he sees a doctor for one problem, he will share his life story, given any encouragement.

“About thirty years ago, I quit having kidney stones,” he’ll tell a cardiologist or orthopedic surgeon. He’ll go on to explain why, in his opinion, this happened.

When the doctors’ tone becomes abrupt, or they fail to zero in on the cause of the current issue, my dad’s disappointed. “I thought he was going to be different,” he’ll say, or “I thought she was going to connect all the dots.”

My husband, who went to veterinary school, knows better than to expect too much from doctors. Nonetheless, he’s likely to follow their instructions to the tee. If they misdiagnose, he’ll make excuses for them. “If you hear hoof beats, don’t look for zebras,” he’ll say.

When it comes to sports, they both enjoy watching games on TV. If I hear my dad whooping, I know it’s because our team just scored, made a great play, or otherwise advanced the cause.

When my husband becomes vocal, I’m equally sure it’s the opposite. Either the other team has made a great play, or our team just blundered or missed an opportunity. (My son must have picked up habits from both because he shouts either way.)

The similarity I’m thinking of lies in the way they each combine traits of optimism with those of pessimism. If I present an idea to my husband, I’m pretty sure his first words will be “The problem with that is…”

If I present an idea to my dad, he’s more likely to say, “That’s a great idea,” and nod his approval.

Down the road, however, my dad’s attitude toward the idea, the doctor, the team, or even the novel he’s reading may turn sour. My husband, on the other hand, will likely get onboard, once he has prepared us both for trouble ahead.

“I’m not a pessimist,” he’ll say. “I’m a realist.” When our team loses, he says, “At least I didn’t have any money on it,” or “There’s always next year.”

Do you prefer to read books about optimists or pessimists? Or is the blended character best of all?

If you looked at my reading lists, you’d see a lot of diversity. You would see books I’ve relished and a few I’ve tried but didn’t care for. Likely there were some I found so absorbing I forgot to input them.

I like stories about relationships, a bit of romance, a hint of mystery, more than a bit of family drama, and I don’t mind a touch of philosophy. In short, it would be difficult to name the genre.

This is also true of what I write. If you like to stick to a particular genre, one where you know what to expect (even if the expectation is a twist at the end), my books might not all be to your taste. But if you’re prepared to try something different, I hope you will.

I write a lot from personal experience, but also a lot from my imagination. About half of my upcoming books are largely nonfictional, though written like novels, while the other half are mainly fiction.

Because my books are so diverse, you might find you like some of them but not others. When I find an author I enjoy, I tend to read all, or most, of their books. When I was a teen and I discovered Jane Austen, Herman Wouk, Louisa May Alcott, Fyodor Dostoevsky, and the Bronte sisters, I loved everything they wrote (yes, that’s quite a diverse list).

More recently, I have enjoyed some books by Chris Bohjalian but not all. I read The Good Mother by Sue Miller years ago. I didn’t like it at the time. During the past year, I decided to give her books another chance, and I quite enjoyed some of her work. I think how we react to a book is often a function of our frame of mind and stage of life. When I was a kid, I loved The Witch of Blackbird Pond. As an adult, I started it again and had trouble really getting into it.
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Over the next few weeks, I plan to share information on some of my upcoming books, about seven in all. These are nearing completion but have yet to be released for public viewing. I’m hoping that will follow soon after…

​Is your significant other a control freak? Are you? My husband would probably say I am, and I’d say he is. I’ve reluctantly come to the conclusion that most of us are, though in varied ways.

For instance, I’m very picky about the tastes of food and drink; what, when, and where I eat; and what we buy at the grocery (yes, I see a pattern here). My husband is very particular about how we arrange the groceries or luggage in the car, how we load the dishwasher, and whether we turn off all the lights and lock the doors when we leave or go to bed.

The challenges arise when our quirks clash. I hate being early. He hates being late. Since it’s almost impossible to be exactly on time, we compromise by being a little early but not overly so. Still, we end up with more extra (I’d call it wasted) time than I prefer, but enough to keep him from stressing out completely.

Sometimes I bite my tongue and say “okay.” I’m sure he does the same. Some battles just aren’t worth fighting. Isn’t that what we do as parents—choose our battles? I guess marriage and parenting have more in common than you’d think. Some matters don’t really matter (no pun intended).

When my daughter was little and we’d go hiking, she always wanted to carry the leader stick. “Nikki’s got the leader stick,” we’d say.
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Over the years, this has become a familiar phrase in our family. When decisions are needed, we turn to Nikki. (Good thing her husband doesn’t seem to be too much of a control freak.)

Maybe these compromises become easier over time, and perhaps that’s why you sometimes hear the first year of marriage can be the hardest. Throughout my novel, Song of Sugar Sands, Peter and Acadia struggle to figure this out. Some issues are far easier to deal with than others, and Peter and Acadia must come to terms with serious matters like faith and communication. 
 
When one of our kids or grandchildren shows “control freak” tendencies, my husband will look at me and say, “I wonder where he gets that.”
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“So do I,” I reply. “So do I.” 

At what age do your kids reveal their true colors?

Last night my sister-in-law called. “Jay is thinking about dropping out of college!” she wailed. “What will he do with his life?”

My husband spent much of the next hour assuring her there are many occupations that do not require a college degree, and Jay would be just fine.

When my two were living at home, their attitudes toward money were diametrically opposed. Now their attitudes seem to have reversed.
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“Do you know what I love most in the world? Do you?” Rebecca Gibbs asks in Thornton Wilder’s play, Our Town. “Money!”

Our daughter landed this role in community theatre when she was about ten. The line cracked us up because Nikki was nothing like the character she played. She still isn’t, but she has learned to be careful with money, now that she’s managing a family of her own.

When she and her brother lived at home, I kept a tally of the money each accumulated from allowances, chores, birthday and Christmas gifts. Almost every year our daughter would run a deficit and start borrowing from her brother, who was more of a saver. Back then.

Not any longer. My mother occasionally recalls Clay saying, “I like to save money.”

If she says this in Nikki’s hearing, my daughter replies, “That Clay doesn’t exist anymore.”

Both Nikki and Clay are generous-hearted and charitable-minded, though. Although quite different from each other in their spending patterns, I remain optimistic that each is optimizing his or her potential for happiness in their own way.

At some point, our children and grandchildren must make these decisions for themselves. For some of us, letting go proves difficult.
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These issues may be even harder if you come into their lives when they are a bit older. In my novel, Joy After Noon, Joy finds herself in a situation where her stepdaughters have already decided to dislike her. What influence can she possibly have? You might be surprised. 

     I recently saw a former colleague at a memorial service. “You may not remember me,” she said and told me her name.
    “I often forget names,” I admitted. This was true enough, but only half the story.
    My sister and I have both begun to suspect we have trouble with face recognition. Not the extreme case, but I imagine—like so much else—face recognition lies on a spectrum.
    My husband and I started watching a comedy series starring an actor who played Penny on another series we watched. He recognized her right off.
    “Are you sure?” I said. “It sounds like her, but I see no resemblance.”
    He said nothing.
    “I suppose you saw her name in the credits?”
    Again, he said nothing. He’s gotten used to this struggle of mine. Over the years I’ve come to realize I identify people by specific clues, like hair color or style or body structure. I’ve often complained about casting decisions for TV shows and movies.
    “It’s like they have a specific type they are looking for, and use all the actors they don’t cast in the lead in other roles,” I’ll say. “Every woman in this show has a dark brown bob, and they are all tall and thin. How can I tell them apart?” I’m in trouble if they change clothes or, heaven forbid, dye and cut their hair.
    Eventually I get to recognizing most people and actors I’ve seen a lot. Most of us have a defining characteristic or two—mole on the left cheek, a scar above the eyebrow, etc.—something that isn’t as easily altered as hair color and style or wardrobe. Occasionally there’s someone who proves particularly difficult.
    “Who is this actress?” I’ll say.
    “Emily Blunt.”
    “What’s she been in? Oh, don’t tell me. Young Victoria. Right?”
  I remember this, not because I recognize her but because we’ve had this conversation so many times before.
    An early clue presented itself when my husband and I were first married. I showed him a photograph of my beloved grandmother taken in her twenties. “Guess who that is?” I said.
    “It’s your grandmother. It looks just like her.”
   He’d only known my grandmother in her seventies and eighties, when she was riddled by disease and humped over from osteoporosis and too many steroids. I saw no resemblance between her crippled body and the lovely young woman in the photo.
    I’ve learned to trust his judgment, most of the time. He’ll see an actor appearing in an old film as a child or teenager, someone we’ve only seen before as a middle-aged man.
    “Do you recognize him?” he’ll ask me.
    Of course, I do not. Even after he tells me, I can scarcely believe it. But I’ve learned to expect the name in the end credits. He’s almost always right. He must be near the other end of the spectrum.
    In The Ticket, I modelled Tray’s grandmother, at least in part, after mine. Many readers tell me she’s their favorite character.

The apostle John writes, “Do not love the world or the things in the world. If anyone loves the world, the love of the Father is not in him.” (John 2:15) I’ve never thought of myself as materialistic, but I sometimes worry that I appreciate some things of this world a bit too much. As I contemplate this weakness, it occurs to me that most of what I love best was made by God.
         Skies so blue they hurt my eyes or dotted with hundreds of stars in the evening; the sun setting like a glowing orange ball; purple mountains draped in wisps of smoke; the white-tipped blues and greens of the sea rushing to shore. Family, friends, food, and babies of all kinds—human or animal; the laughter of a loved one. Interesting, isn’t it, that with all our technology, mankind cannot rival any of these in our creations?
           I’d like to think that things of the world, as referenced by John, don’t include the beauties of nature but only the worldly desires like lust and pride, a different definition of “world” altogether. Maybe I’m trying to feel better about myself, or about the world we inhabit. Sure, there’s plenty to mourn as well… suffering and poverty, politics and war, the priorities we humans place on fame and wealth, on stars of sports and Hollywood.
           On balance, I prefer to focus on the positives as long as I can. I know that, with aging, we must face the loss of loved ones, the increasing numbers of aches and pains, of illnesses from which we can recover and those from which we cannot.
           But I do not want to invite trouble before it arrives at my door. “Sufficient to the day is the evil thereof. So do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself.” (Matthew 6:34)
          If you haven’t watched the TV series, The Chosen, I recommend it. I watched the final three episodes of season 5, “The Last Supper,” over Easter weekend in a theater with a large screen. Well worthwhile.

As mentioned in previous posts, I visited New Zealand every year from 2003 through 2020, and was there when the Pandemic struck in March of 2020. This year (2025) I’ve scheduled a return visit for the first time in five years. Thinking this could be the last, I’ve been pondering which of my favorite cities and features to revisit. Although I love the south island, there are many great areas on the north island as well.

As I debated the itinerary, I came across these notes from the year 2018, probably the last time I visited Nelson, sometimes touted as the sunniest place in New Zealand and one of my very favorites. Not sure whether we’ll make it back there this year, I decided to share this post while we’re in the general vicinity.  

Friday, March 9, 2018. Our early AM flight was cancelled, and we were rescheduled to leave at 5:20 pm. We arrived around 8:30 am, so this meant a long day sitting in the Auckland airport. I tried to convince the Air NZ attendants to put us on stand-by for an earlier flight (there were several), but they insisted that we would have to surrender our seats on the 5:20 pm flight in order to be put on stand-by—and we might not get out at all. To add insult, they gave us four $6.00 meal vouchers only after I requested, and finally agreed to two more. Altogether we barely had enough to buy two non-alcoholic beverages and a breakfast sandwich.

Our 5:20 flight went fine, though, and we arrived safely. We were after hours for our car rental (off airport) and when we called to tell them we’d be late, they couldn’t leave us a car unless we found a way to print a contract, scan it and email it back from the airport. We finally managed to do this by begging an Air NZ attendant to print it and then to take a photo with our phone and email it. Verizon charged $25 US for exceeding our data allowance.

We found the car, after taking a taxi to the rental company, and drove to our hotel. Very basic but clean and quit. The proprietor gave us a bottle of milk for coffee, and I drank it down for dinner. We didn’t feel like driving anywhere that evening, and the restaurants within walking distance weren’t exciting. We had both slept poorly the night before. The hotel bed and pillows were comfortable, and we slept well.

Saturday, March 10, We drove to the city center looking for a parking place and a market. On the way we found a super-market, so we bought some supplies to take back to the hotel room. Then we found the market, where we walked around checking out the crafts and food stands. We bought some tasty beef with rice, lentils, green beans, and bread strips at a Sri Lankan stand, and found a table to sit down. A nice couple from Colorado sat with us, and we chatted while we ate. A team of dancer promoting a local production of The Full Monty performed nearby and paraded about the market passing out flyers.

We bought strawberries at a stand on our way out of the market, and they were delicious! Small and sharp in flavour, they reminded me of the ones Daddy used to grow in Mayfield. The sun warmed them in the car, and we snacked on them for the next two days.

Then we drove north into wine country. We did a tasting at the Rimu Grove vineyard and bought a bottle of Riesling. We drove on to Kaiteriteri Beach. We were scheduled originally to do a boat tour in Abel Tasman on Sunday, but I rescheduled it for Monday because the weather forecast looked warmer and sunnier. We decided on Saturday to drive on to the village (Marahou) where our boat would depart from. There was a detour because of damage from a recent cyclone (hurricane) to some of the roads and we got behind a lot of slow-moving traffic, then on a windy-grindy road. We finally found the departure point and spoke with a manager there about the timing of our drive from Nelson on Monday morning. He spoke with the tour guide, who offered to meet us in Motueka at 7:30 am instead of Marahou at 8:30, but we decided to stick to the original plan.

By the time we got back to the hotel, Norm was exhausted from driving on the left on narrow, winding roads!

Sunday, March 11. Norman preferred not to do much driving this day, so we spent it in Nelson. Turned out to be a beautiful sunny day despite the forecast. There was another market in the town center (used things this time), no strawberries (bummer). I bought a vinyl Loretta Lynn album and looked at old books but didn’t buy.

We went to the Melrose House and gardens, which were lovely. They offered high tea, but we hadn’t booked in time; so we ordered from the menu instead. We split two meals: one, a delicious red cod with poached eggs benedict and the other, ricotta hotcakes with berries. Yummy!

Then we drove to the beach near our hotel, Tahunanui Beach, and I went for a swim (chilly but refreshing).

That evening we drove back to the town center looking for a restaurant we’d seen advertised. It was closed, but nearby we found Burger Culture. We sat outside and shared a delicious fish burger (crumbed John Dory fillet) on a black bun with sides of salad (for me) and fries (for Norm). They advertised shakes, burgers and donuts and they served milkshakes with donuts on top! We resisted that temptation.

Monday, March 12. Abel Tasman National Park. We drove to the departure point for our ecological tour, and traffic wasn’t bad at all. The tour guide (Stew) did a great job of describing the environmental challenges of protecting a marine preserve that couldn’t be properly policed. He took us for a couple of walks on islands, where we saw a waterfall, on one, and Norm splashed in the cold, cold water under the falls. On the other (longer walk) we saw a lot of birds, including a wood pigeon (huge, near the size of a chicken) and he showed us vegetation, trees and various species of adult whitebait. We heard bell birds and saw them from a distance flitting about, and a fantail. When the walk ended, I rushed to the outdoor toilet, where I got nailed multiple times by sand flies. We carried our own lunch, though our guide (Stew) furnished some excellent chocolate cake and coffee or tea (for morning snack). Norm and I took cheeses (blue cheese and camembert) and crackers, muffins (one apricot and one coffee walnut), and bottled water. I chatted with a retired school teacher from Germany, who had been struggling to deal with retired life.

The water was a brilliant turquoise, and we saw seals, eagle rays and a number of blue penguins from the boat. We returned to our departure point by around 3:15 pm.

Upon returning to the hotel, I went for a nice, chilly swim in the hotel pool (as I had not gotten in the ocean). Then we drove back to the city center and ate dinner at The Vic, next door to Burger Culture. We shared a seared tuna dish and a seafood chowder with tasty bread, and I had an iced chocolate drink for dessert.

Tuesday, March 13. Last day in Nelson. We packed and checked out of the hotel fairly early. Then we drove to a restaurant I’d seen advertised for brunch on the “fiver”. We had eggs benedict on rye bread, but the bread was a little dry. I asked for extra Hollandaise, which finally arrived.

Then we drove to a nearby town (suburb) of Stoke, where we visited a historical home that housed a fascinating dollhouse and miniature town display, with replicas of a general store, cake shop, millinery, butcher’s and many more. We chatted with the volunteer workers there about history, both in America and NZ.

Then we went back to Tahunanui Beach, where I took one last swim before changing and heading to the car rental place to drop off the car and catch a shuttle to the airport. We stopped at a bakery to buy a sandwich and an éclair (custard-filed long john) to eat at the airport. We also stopped by our hotel to return the towel I had borrowed for my swim.

​Better luck with our flight back to Auckland on JetStar than with Air New Zealand.

We are scheduled to return to New Zealand in 2025, the first time since 2020, having been there when the Pandemic struck. Between 2003 and 2020, we went once a year, often stopping off in either Tahiti or Fiji on the way or on the way back. The blog below, though never posted before, was written around Easter of 2018, and brings back lots of fond memories of a stop in Tahiti and also LA. If you’ve never been, I encourage you to try it if you get the chance. It was fabulous back then, and I assume it still is.

When we arrived at Papeete from Auckland, it was too late to catch the ferry to Moorea (it might have been possible, but tight). We spent one night at the Tahiti Airport Motel, right across the street from the airport. We took a taxi there because of our luggage. This motel was very basic, no pool, but the room was clean.

For dinner, we walked to a nearby Chinese restaurant, Ocean. We ordered the Special fried rice and roast duck, and they were very tasty. Then we walked to a small supermarket, where we bought some jam, peaches, bread (only 52 cents for a French Baguette),two yogurt/fruit salads, butter, and a couple of types of cheese to take to Moorea. The hotel had a small Continental breakfast but no hair dryer. There was a chocolate croissant included J.

We had some time after breakfast before our shuttle, so I browsed the jewelry case located in the lobby. I’d previously bought a Tahitian pearl pendant at the market on Tahiti Nui the first time we were there, so I was interested in earrings this time. The case was locked, and the lady at the front desk had to call someone to show me the jewelry. She came, and I tried on a few pairs. The posts were a bit large for my holes, but I settled on small gray studs that seemed to go on a bit better.

When we arrived at the ferry station, we discovered that the boat was leaving at 11:30 instead of 12:45 like we thought, so we were just in time. We found seats next to the window with a view. Apparently, there are two companies, one with two boats and one (the one we took) with only one smaller red boat. Norm texted the taxi group who was supposed to pick us up to let them know we were arriving early and they met us with a sign with our name on it.

Our bungalow wasn’t quite ready at the Manava Resort and Spa, but they greeted us with a cold drink. It was very hot and humid. I wandered around a bit, and we both recognized the resort as somewhere we had stayed before with a different name (the resort’s, not ours). When the room was ready, we were taken on a brief tour. We remembered it as the Moorea Pearl. Our bungalow was a garden view, not over water or even ocean front, but nice, with a small private plunge pool in the back. Tropical flowers and trees all around. Air conditioning plus a ceiling fan, nice shower (no tub), hair dryer, robe and slippers (one men’s one lady’s), etc.

Our tour guide informed us we could have breakfast all three mornings at about half the price if we committed on the first day. We decided to do so. Breakfasts were very nice, with fresh fruit varying by day. Avocado one day, papaya the next, mango twice, bananas every day. There were crepes with Nutella, meats and cheese, small chocolate croissants (much better than the ones at the airport motel), but no decaf until the last day. There was some in the room, however, so I started bringing my own. Hot milk for it on the breakfast buffet.

The resort had a zero-entry pool (always a nice temperature), a small but lovely beach with great snorkeling nearby, and free snorkel gear, kayaks (Norm said no), and paddle boards (no also). So, we limited our exercise to snorkeling, always a favorite. Jet skis were available to rent, and several people did so, not us.

The coral was damaged severely since our previous visit, possibly due to higher than normal water temperatures in 2016. There were still plenty of colorful fish, though, and I hope that won’t change. We saw sea turtles at both resorts (description on second one to come shortly). On our first night in Moorea, there was a Tahitian dance show around 7:30 pm near the pool. We found seats in the bar, where Norm ordered an amber Hinano beer and I had a fancy dessert—ice cream with flambéed bananas, whipped cream, and cherry. We repeated these choices on our second night, except that my ice cream was chocolate, with chocolate sauce and chocolate mousse. For lunch we ate bread, butter and cheese, which was plenty after our large breakfasts. We went snorkeling once or twice every day. My first mask kept leaking water around my eyes, stinging my right eye badly, but I traded it for a different, smaller one on the second day. The new one worked much better. The snorkeling right off the beach was great, with a host of orange/red fish living in a coral cave, a number of large parrot fish, and a multitude of small blue fish ranging in color from bright purple to brilliant turquoise. We saw small purple clams and loads of large black spiky sea urchins. Full moon at night.

On Saturday we moved to a different resort, more of a Bed and Breakfast with only four bungalows. It was very hot again, and the taxi driver dropped us, and our luggage, out in front of a large gate. We rang the bell, and our host Philippe appeared shortly.

“There is no air conditioning in any of the bungalows,” he said, “so I can call another taxi to take you back to Manava Beach if you want.”

We assured Philippe we were fine with no a/c, and he showed us to our bungalow. There were mosquito nets around the bed, and the bathroom windows were open. There was a hammock to hang on the porch and an oscillating fan. No sandy beach, but a pier with a ladder into the water. Deeper on the right (around 40 feet) than on the left (around 5 feet). We discovered shortly that the coral was much better here than at Manava. Still much was dead, but more patches of new growth. Bright purples, some greens, an occasional pink or yellow. A lot of dark red, though none of the red fish I saw at Manava in abundance. A lot of bright yellow fish with blue eyes, black and white small fish, angel fish, a very large trumpet fish, and many more.

We saw a large sea turtle on our first day, and an eel on two days. We also saw a sea turtle, possibly the same one, on our last day, and Norm saw a smaller turtle once. I saw a jellyfish, small and colorful, and we both saw several clams.

Philippe cooked dinner for us and another guest all three nights (no choice, same for all of us). The other guest spoke only French, so we mainly ate or chatted with Philippe when he wasn’t busy cooking or supervising. The first night we had tuna tartare for our starter, swordfish and cooked papaya (which tastes nothing like fresh papaya), and an arch of tropical fruit with a scoop of ice cream for dessert. Delicious! The second night we had a tuna pate’ (somewhat like our tuna salad) for the starter with a salad, marinated NZ beef and a vegetable comparable to collard greens (not nearly as bitter) au gratin for the main course, and a homemade Bounty bar (dark chocolate-covered fresh coconut) for dessert. The third night we had tuna carpaccio, long-nosed emperor fish (my new favorite fish), and his version of tiramisu for dessert (mostly fresh fruit and homemade yogurt). All good. We walked to a very small store on our first evening and bought sparkling water and crackers.

Philippe offered a salad for lunch, and we ordered those on Easter Sunday. I added a boiled egg to mine. At the previous resort, they had egg dying for kids, and I took a photo. Rare year when I don’t dye eggs myself. I found an Easter sermon by Tim Keller to listen to on Easter.

The Monday following Easter was a holiday for many in Tahiti so we weren’t sure what would be open. We walked to a public beach and I swam there. Very nice water temperature! It will be so much colder at the lake and at the Gulf for at least a couple of months. An inflated, floating playground for kids tempted me, but Norm said you had to pay to slide. Nice stars at night after dinner.

On Tuesday (our last day) we had fruit plates for breakfast. Really good papaya, coconut, grapefruit, and bananas. We walked a short distance to a botanic garden and up a steep hill for a view (and flowers, plants, trees along the way). Vines and tiny yellow flowers draped an old truck.

Around noon we went for our last amazing snorkel. I kept looking for a turtle and was thrilled when we finally spotted one. Also saw a lovely purple dotted fish with a bright purple tail we hadn’t seen before. Another fish I loved was black with yellow fins in front, translucent fins in back, and a hot pink tail. Still another one had dark navy (or green) and orange stripes with a tail kept compact when swimming but which would spread out into rainbow colors occasionally, and a wide clown-smiling mouth.

Philippe provided us a second bungalow to store our luggage and take a shower while ours was being cleaned for the next guest. We caught a taxi around 4pm to the ferry station for a 4:40 ferry to Tahiti Nui. There we shared a taxi with another couple spending the night at the Tahiti Airport Motel where we stayed our first night. They had a 5:30 am Wednesday flight to LAX, whereas ours was 10:30pm on Tuesday. We had five hours at the airport, which was very hot.

The Atrium café was open, so I spent the last of our Tahitian money on some snacks. Norm located a bottle of sparkling water for me and instructed me to buy a Hinano Amber for him. Unfortunately, I picked up a Hinano Gold by mistake, and I’ll be hearing about it for years to comer (my one job).

Son Clay and his girlfriend, Sarah, (and sweet, sweet dog, Billie) picked us up at the LAX airport. Amanda’s daughter Reagan has a “Flat Stanley” project, and Clay had printed out Flat Stanley and stabilized him with some cardboard. We carried and photographed Stanley everywhere we went in Los Angeles.

First Clay and Sarah took us to an Italian deli known for some of the best sandwiches in L.A. We bought olives, artichoke hearts, salad, and anchovies, along with sandwiches and drinks, for a picnic. Then we drove to Malibu, where we ate and hiked around the beaches (Leo Carrillo State Park) with Billie and Flat Stanley. We stopped at Malibu Yogurt and Ice Cream, an old favorite.

We went back to the hotel (we had already checked in) near the airport, and Clay and I went for a very chilly swim in the outdoor heated pool. The water was nice, but it was after 5 pm by then and the air was very chilly.

After our swim, we relaxed in the room for a while, and Clay watched some video footage related to his Cuba documentary. Then we had a lovely dinner at a tapas restaurant, The Walton, in Culver City. We shared a raw fish dish, striped bass (our favorite, except Sarah, who is vegetarian), carrots, kale salad, cauliflower, and pasta. Dessert was a homemade candy bar with ice cream, very chocolate and tasty (all 4 of us shared one).

The diet should have started today, but unfortunately our Mexican lunch was entirely too tempting. I had al pastor (marinated pork) tostada salad with guacamole and rice, and it was too good to be healthy or low calorie! La Fonda was inexpensive and so delicious, but left an onion taste in my mouth, oh well.
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I write this as I sit in the airport now with Flat Stanley, about to board the plane for Nashville. We had a good experience with Air Tahiti Nui, much better than with Air New Zealand. All got us there safely though, so I can’t complain.