Torrential rains come down in Honolulu during a particularly nasty snow storm hitting Maine at the same time. Of course the rain was warm and did not require any plows to remove it from roads and driveways, but it was very, very wet indeed. (Photos by Tom Sadowski)
Torrential rains come down in Honolulu during a particularly nasty snow storm hitting Maine at the same time. Of course the rain was warm and did not require any plows to remove it from roads and driveways, but it was very, very wet indeed. (Photos by Tom Sadowski)
It was a hard rain all night long. Not just any rain but a tropical, torrential rain; the kind that can wash a cottage like ours away, down the stream, into the ocean and gone without a trace. I am writing this because I saw a weather forecast for back home where there is upwards of 30 inches of snow predicted over the next four days and I don't want people back there to think we have it easy here. Of course it's warm rain: the kind you can walk around in and tap dance around like Fred Astaire but it's still rain. And we are being warned about flash floods and puddle monsters. Then there is the brutal sun after the storm that you have to protect against. So, if you can stretch the imagination, really reach out there and stretch, 30 inches of snow is not so bad.

Way before dawn during a small break in the rain, the local roosters came out of hiding to crow their heads off before the rain started again. My daughter who was not told about the plague of chickens, woke up angry in bed thinking that her parents had a very annoying rooster alarm clock. Finally she jumped out of bed to silence the irritating alarm but as she marched toward our room it became obvious that the crowing was coming from the evil chickens outside. Score another for the roosters.

At dawn, we all pile into the rental car and drive off to the Honolulu Airport. My daughter's tattooed surfer boyfriend is flying in from Australia and bringing two surf boards. The plan is for us to meet the boyfriend, for the boyfriend to meet the parents and then for the daughter and boyfriend to spend long hours stretching into days surfing some of the best waves in the world, sans parents. My wife is delighted. I grumble.

Continuing the chase from yesterday, much time is spent on the missing bag. Delta Airlines has a sign at their baggage desk that guarantees your bags in 20 minutes; the sign loses a lot of credibility after three days.

We give up on the bag for the day, collect the boyfriend and drive home. The people at the cottage next door are getting ready for a wedding in the afternoon. When the bride emerges and heads for her car, my wife breaks out in tears even though I assure her that it is all good. At least what I understand is good. Sometimes I don't understand much.