Skripper Time

Hawaii I Hardly Knew Ya

One glorious week, gone in the blink of an eye - I just returned from 7 fantastic days in Oahu, Hawaii.  What I love most about Hawaii is that it is, simply, BEAUTIFUL.  My week in paradise was spent with three good friends at a beach condo in Ko Olina, which means "place of joy".  I highly recommend it to anyone looking for a warm, comfortable getaway with fantastic views, amazing beaches and overall stunning scenery.  We went snorkeling, diving, hiking, dining, LOST chasing, shopping (Target! Outlet mall!) and spent a ton of time on the beach. 

Here's what I learned in my week of Hawaiian Bliss:

1. Pumpkin pie tastes best when eaten on a lanai, overlooking the ocean.
2. My friend Nicole, is 30-something going on 85.  Thanks to her, we watched a Golden Girls marathon (no, I am not kidding) and she freely admits to being slightly obsessed with "Murder She Wrote". (As an aside - I rediscovered that Golden Girls really was a funny show).
3. One giant bag of Kirkland Organic Tortilla Chips is precisely the right size for 4 women on vacation for a week.
4. My friend Heather is a cover-stealer.  Brrrrr.
5. The noise that Nicole emits when being swarmed by tropical fish (because she is feeding them bits of croissant) sounds like a pig on helium and acid.  It is augmented by the fact that it is coming through her snorkel. It is the funniest thing I have ever heard.
6. No matter what time of day you run in Hawaii, you will sweat like a pig. 
7. Menchies is nirvana.  Frozen yogurt, toppings and delicious goodness.  It's right up there with Coldstone.
8. Fresh pineapple + Pina Coloda mix + ice + blender = PARADISE
9. It takes up to 20 months to grow a pineapple.  Who knew?
10. I need to go back to Hawaii soon.

Heading to Hawaii - LOST and Found.

 In perhaps what is one of the more fantastically ill-timed vacations in the world, I am preparing to head to Hawaii in 3 more sleeps.  It seemed like a great idea when I booked it in early September, but then some priorities shifted at work, time lines moved up and all hell broke loose.  As a result, I've been working the midnight oil trying to get everything ready to go prior to departure. 

Kudos to my employer for actually still letting me go (although I have been outfitted with a Rocket Stick and a US roaming plan for my blackberry, so I'm not even going to pretend that I'm not going to work while I'm there).  However, I do reserve the right to participate in conference calls with a Pina Coloda in one hand while reclining on the deck chairs on the fabulous balcony overlooking the ocean.

It's been a busy busy week, but I've still managed to prepare myself for the inevitable encounter with my future husband, Matthew Fox, who is filming with LOST on the island I'm going to.  I've gone through the necessary and teeth-gritting body clean up thanks to my good friend Paola at Sugar Moon Salon - who announced during our session that we had crossed the border into Belize.  Ouch. Oh and for all the men out there, Sugar Moon now does boy-zillians.  Trust me - a little manscaping goes a long way...wait, what was I talking about?

Back on topic: the pedicure is booked upon arrival in Oahu (I ran out of time here) and my darling cousin presented me with some new lip gloss for the trip. So plucked and with lips plumped, I head to Oahu to find true love.

In all seriousness, they are in process of filming the last season of LOST on Oahu.  And I WILL FIND THEM.  This time I have a wing man on the trip with me and with our forces combined, we shall prevail.  MatthewFoxCharlieSalingerJackShepard I will find them.

Hawaii is a favourite place of mine - this is trip number 4...or is it 5?  I love that I can run along the ocean in the morning, suntan and snorkel before lunch then spend the afternoon at Target.  Seriously - it's a fantastic blend of sun and fun and Costco delight.  My paradise.  Amazing scenery, great culture, lots of places to explore.   People keep asking me if I'm getting excited -I'm getting there.  I'll be excited when I get on the plane on Friday morning and completely and utterly surrender my self to the idea of palm trees, fantastic sunsets, slushy drinks, good food and good times.  It will certainly make the emails from work a lot easier to swallow.

The Value of a Plastic Bag

There's been a lot of noise in the last 6 months or so as the 5 cent levy for plastic shopping bags has been phased in here in Toronto.  People griping that stores are just making a money grab, debates over whether the funds should go to an environmental fund, and in some cases, general outrage at the fact that plastic bags cost anything at all. I myself am all for the elimination of plastic bags (except when I need them for my dog walks - in which case, if you have some, drop them off at my house).

During my MBA summers, I spent two months in Eastern Europe teaching business classes with the Ivey LEADER Project in Moldova and the Ukraine.  Both countries are filled with a slightly decaying beauty - high rises with crumbling facades, storefronts boarded over with thick planks of wood.  The demise of the Soviet Empire is still a work in progress in many ways.  But what I remember (besides the homemade pierogies smothered in butter, and drinking shot after shot of vodka with our hosts) is how they treasured their plastic bags.

Plastic bags were few and far between in the places I taught in, and the non-descript 99 cent cloth bag that we so casually toss aside here in Canada was nowhere to be seen.  If you were lucky enough to get a plastic bag somewhere, you USED it.  Everyday.  To carry whatever you needed it to - groceries, books, shoes, clothing and more.  The printing on the outside of the bag would fade, the plastic would grow thin, yet people would still carry them everyday because they were one step ahead of those people who didn't have one.  There was a sense of pride attached to the plastic bag, and they didn't reuse them again and again because they were laden with a sense of environmental guilt, they used them because they were scarce, and because they were scarce, they were a status symbol.

So as I grumble to myself every single time I end up at the cash at Loblaws and just then remember the stack of cloth bags that I have left in my trunk - AGAIN - I often think of my friends in Eastern Europe and what a plastic bag meant to them.  It wasn't disposable or a throw away item - it was something that made them stand a little taller, something they treasured and valued.  While we debate and argue over whether a plastic bag is worth 5 cents, I think that they would argue it is worth much, much more.