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I’m going to assume that you can guess.  That’s right.  According to a Gallup Poll, Hawaii is the least stressed state in the nation.  And while I know you’re thinking that it’s because folks who live here spend all day surfing in crystal clear waters at the base of Diamond Head, you’re wrong and I want to spend this post explaining why.

When you learn that Hawaii is the least stressed state in the nation, you have to understand some other statistics to have the full picture:  Hawaii is regularly listed among the most expensive places to live in the nation (Honolulu is third on this year’s list), it’s traffic is the second worst in the nation (although it might rank #1 if you do the calculation a little differently) and the number of people working more than one job to make ends meet is exceedingly high in this state.

The point?

We may have incredible beaches, incomparable mountain vistas and tropical beauty all around us, but most folks on these islands spend long hard hours at work or commuting.

And yet, the people of Hawaii really are incredible.  Laid back.  Content (or maybe sometimes resigned).  I say “the people of Hawaii” here because I don’t feel like I’ve been here long enough to include myself.  And offering that caveat, I’d like to share a list of reasons why I think Hawaii is the least stressed out state:

• People are nice.  During my daily commute I travel 12 miles in 50 minutes.  You mathematicians know that means I average 14.4 mph.  On a highway.  And you know what?  If I need to change lanes, there’s always someone ready to let me in.  If a pedestrian needs to cross that highway, we all kindly stop.  Because people here are nice.  And, they’re not just nice in traffic.  I’ve been clomping around in my office in a post-op shoe trying to heal a stress fracture and every day, dozens of people I’ve never met stop me to ask what happened, offer sympathy and tell me they’ll pray it heals soon.  It’s hard to be stressed out when there’s so much Aloha floating around.
• American culture as main-landers know it, is absent.  I love my country and I’m proud to be an American, but folks, there are some things American culture just gets wrong.  Like over-consumption.  Like keeping up with the Jones’.  Like making a perfectly decorated mansion with white picket fences a life goal.  Practically, these things don’t work here.  Over-consumption is cost-prohibitive and white picket fences?  Hey, you’re lucky if you even have a yard here.  But beyond practicality, I think Hawaii’s young statehood and cultural melting pot are its greatest attributes.  “Foreign” cultures are hugely influential here and since looking different from your neighbor is the norm, I get the sense that folks spend less time comparing themselves to one another and more time absorbing the beauty of all those differences…and realizing how much sameness there is.  Instead of pursuing the two-kids-SUV-white-picket-fence-golden-retriever cliche, folks here pursue the best part of the ‘ol American dream:  happiness.
• Family.  Family, or ohana,  is big in Hawaii and you don’t have to share genes with someone to be in their ohana. When I still lived in NC and after my first close friend had a baby, I developed the habit of calling myself Auntie Sarah to the offspring of friends and acquaintances alike.  I am confident that a good 50% of those parents – who don’t mistrust me in anyway – felt like the designation of Auntie was awkward because we weren’t related.  In Hawaii, I’m Auntie Sarah to kids whose names I don’t know, because community is family.  I know strong family bonds are partly a product of geography:  people tend to live near their families because islands just aren’t that big.  And so, here at last, I’ll give a physical aspect of the Hawaiian islands a little credit:  thanks for being islands, which keep families close.
• Work Hard, Chill Hard.  Before I explain this one, let me first say that folks on Oahu are very active in all kinds of outdoor hobbies, so I don’t want to imply that folks just sit around on their butts all day.  BUT. But, Hawaii understands the value of not scheduling every moment.  Go to a beach park on any given Saturday or Sunday and you’ll find huge ohana gatherings (use that definition of family I gave above) grilling out and just stone-cold relaxing.  Drive through a neighborhood pau hana (after work)  and take note of how many folks are sitting in folding chairs on their lanais or in the driveway just shootin’ the breeze.  People know how to relax here.  For real.  And they don’t feel guilty about it.

These reasons, in my opinion, are why Hawaii is the least stressed state in the nation.  Not the blue water.  Not the palm trees.  Not the Mai Tais.  It’s all in the way people handle stressors.

A favorite bumper sticker I see during my very slow commute reads “Ainokea”.  If you pronounce that with Hawaiian phonics and use a little imagination, you realize it means ” I no care” (Eye No Cay-uh).  Now, I do know the origins of these bumper stickers, but for me, they conjure up the old slogan of Alfred E. Newman of MAD Magazine:  “What, me worry?”.  And so when I see that particular sticker, I’m reminded not to stress out.  Why worry?  Lucky we live in Hawaii.

A few folks answered my actual question (The move is queued up), but someone pinged me to ask why I don’t like Quentin Tarentino.  My answer to that question is sort of complicated, so I set it up in classic “Sarah Argument” style.  If you know me, chances are you’ve been the victim of said style.  I’m sorry, and simultaneously, you’re welcome.  Anyway, the answer went like this:

1) Agree with the premise that Quentin Tarentino’s movies are all edgy or weird or shocking in some way. [We agreed on the premise]

2) Point out that his movies feature either bizarre or interesting characters doing every day things or every day characters doing bizarre and interesting things. [After some debate, we both accepted this as well]

3) Identify the flaw in the first two points:  Quentin Tarentino follows a formula that involves wedding the ordinary and the bizarre and then peppering it with shock or edginess….

….and really good stories don’t follow formulas. (I just remembered that I brought this up before when talking about books here).

4) Accept (and deflect) counter-arguments.  Here my friend mentioned that Steven Spielberg often follows of formula of telling epic adventure stories coupled with special effects.  I acknowledge this and mention that the predictability of such movies is boring becomes tiresome.  But, Spielberg seems to realize this and is perhaps bored of it himself, so he diverges a bit by telling true epic stories like Schindler’s List and Saving Private Ryan.

Anyway the discussion went on for a bit and finally ended when my friend divulged that he too dislikes Quentin Tarentino.  I should have been satisfied, but I’m the queen of sound bites (here’s what a sound bite is) and I’m often compelled to summarize my thoughts with one.  That’s when Peter Griffin popped into my head:

And there it is.  Quentin Tarentino movies insist upon themselves.  They’re like an insecure twenty-something who decides to be a hipster and tries so, so hard to be a hipster that absolutely no one is ever convinced he’s a hipster.  That kid insists upon his hipster self.  Tarentino can’t just tell a story.  He insists upon adding in torture scenes or ninjas or unusual overdose remedies.

That’s why I don’t like Quentin Tarentino.  And why I now feel like I know Peter Griffin, just a little bit better.

PS – The Godfather is a great movie.

For today, I want to acknowledge the mainland trip.  Hubs and I did a ridiculous (exhausting) tour of the homelands:  Charlotte to Charleston to Raleigh to Chapel Hill to Charleston to Jonas Ridge to Charlotte in just over 11 days.  We put over 2000 miles on rental cars and wore ourselves out with an awesome wedding, family and friend reunions.  Here are a few pictures from the trip:

The Gentleman and I all dolled up for Matt and Alissa’s wedding.  We are fully Hawaii-ized:  65 degrees just about gave us hypothermia.  Good thing we were at an awesome wedding to warm our hearts!

Ya’ll know I’m a NORTH Carolina girl through and through, but if I have to travel to the south lands, Charleston’s a great stop.  We saw lovely sunsets like this one and caught up with tons of friends and family (even some UNC folks in SC…Brad).

Then it was up to the Carolina on Top to visit with more great friends.  Loved seeing everyone!  We even enjoyed a night in lovely Chapel Hill at the Siena.  Southern part of heaven, y’all.  Here I am cheesing with the inimitable Jessica at Sitti in Raleigh.  Just like old times!

After Chapel Hill, we drove The Gentleman’s Shelby Mustang back to it’s foster home in SC (Thanks Mom and Dad P!) and then headed for the hills of NC in a rental car where my parents were waiting.  No question folks, my heart is in the NC mountains.  LOVE that place.

What’s that?  You see me wearing a toboggan up there?  Yeah.  It was COLD up in the Blue Ridges.  Cold enough for…. SNOW!  Y’all, I missed winter so bad this year and especially snow.  I seriously almost cried when we started up the hill to my parents’ mountain house and saw flakes falling.  Thank you, God, for the amazing taste of winter.  The pic below is my parents’ driveway.

We ended our NC/SC trip with a home-cooked meal at the home of one of The Gentleman’s oldest friends back in Charlotte.  These folks always show us a good time and that night was no exception.

If you read NTD with any regularity (as if I post that way) then you know our flight(s) home turned into a nightmare.

Alas, here we are, safe and sound back in pretty Kailua.  I’ll post some updates on live on the island soon!

The Gentleman and I spent the last two weeks visiting family and friends in North and South Carolina.  We celebrated a wedding, drove about 1000 miles in 3 different cars to beds in five different cities, reunited, ate too much, slept too little and generally had exhausting fun.  When we woke up on our last mainland day at 4:15 a.m. we planned to sleep on planes for several hours and then, after a smooth noontime landing in Honolulu, collect our cat from the kennel and rest all afternoon.

This is not how things played out.  Instead…

…Our originally booked United Airlines flight out of Charlotte was delayed 3 hours meaning we’d miss our connection in Houston.

…We were re-booked on a pair of American Airlines flights connecting in Dallas

…Twenty minutes into our new AA flight, we learned a passenger on board was seriously ill.

…Five minutes later, our pilot announced we’d be making an emergency landing at the Atlanta airport to offload the sick passenger to paramedics.

…After wishing the ill passenger good health and good luck, and after taxiing for about 20 minutes, we began speeding down the runway for takeoff.

…Just before we reached takeoff speed, the pilot hit the brakes.  We taxied back to another gate.

…We learned that we had a major electrical malfunction that would take an hour and half to fix.  The pilot of was apologetic, honest, and efficient at working for a solution to the problem.

…We were deplaned and spent half an hour or so working with extremely nice and capable agents to  re-book(again) and secured a third pair of flights connecting through Dallas.  We were also provided with meal vouchers so I had breakfast courtesy American Airlines.

…Our new pair of flights pretty much guaranteed our bags wouldn’t arrive in Honolulu with us.

…Gate agents in Dallas assured us that our bags would be on the next possible flight to Honolulu.

… Our flight crew on the Dallas-to-Honolulu leg of the trip were super nice, provided special treats to active-duty military members and even knew how to spell the state fish of Hawaii.  No easy feat, that.

Seventeen ridiculous hours later, we landed in Honolulu (about 5 hours after our original arrival time).  Upon checking in with the baggage agent we learned that American Airlines had called ahead and provided an update on the luggage.  It was delivered to our home, intact and unharmed the very next day.

Based on all prior experiences with air travel disruptions, I’d expect to still be stuck in a Texas airport while our bags landed safely in Istanbul.  I’d expect to have been yelled at, insulted, lied to and ignored by customer service agents multiple times during the chaos.  I’d expect to never see at least one of our suitcases again and to then have to argue about the value of its contents in order to be reimbursed.

I’d expect the usual crappy service America expects from legacy carriers.

Instead, American Airlines did the very best anyone could do with a series of crappy situations, got us home on the same day (pretty tough considering the distance we had to travel) and managed to treat us with respect, kindness and care the whole way.

During our last flight, I remembered an AA commercial from the 1980s.  The jingle lyrics were “We’re American Airlines, something special in the air!”

American Airlines, y’all really were pretty special on this trip.  Consider me a reformed legacy carrier hater…at least when it comes to you.

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Then again, after the last – oh – 18 months or so, it’s becoming clear that chaos might be our norm.  If that’s the case, we’ll have to adjust our approach to life a little bit.  The Gentleman recently spent dawn patrol (that’s surfing first thing in the morning for you land lubbers) with a more seasoned [crazy] surfer who rides the big waves in Hawaii.  This experienced hanger-of-ten shared some strategies for surviving turbulent seas, one of which I’m calling the rag doll approach.  Basically, if you’re caught in breaking big waves and can’t get past them, the best thing to do is  to go limp, like a rag doll, let go of your board, and let the water take you where it will.  If you fight the surf, you’ll wear yourself out and really end up in trouble.

It’s an uncomfortable strategy in practice.  Imagine being pounded under the water, hurtled toward the shore or rocks or a reef and just relaxing, going with the flow when your greatest instinct is saying “Hold on to the board! Breathe!  Swim!”.  It’s not easy to let go and hope you’ll be able to resurface, but ultimately it’s the only option.

I’ve often thought God gives me chaos so I’ll loosen my white knuckle grip on the surf board, but I probably don’t take that far enough.  If our norm is chaos, we need to ask God for a fearless calm in which we totally let go of the surf board and go with the flow, rag dolls in God’s hands. 

As we prepare to fly back to Hawaii from our brief visit to North Carolina and South Carolina, I find myself focused on this strategy, and secretly hoping it applies to airport security lines as well.

Hey y’all! I’m Taylor and I blog over at Pink Heels Pink Truck. First off…HUGE thanks to my friend, Sarah, for allowing me to share a project that I’ve been working on for the past 5 months!

I’m excited to be sharing with you all today a brand new dream that I’ve turned into reality (finally!!) Without further adieu…Meet Fabuless Wardrobe!!

An online consignment shoppe. But not any online consignment shoppe. This consignment shop concept is different than most.

At Fabuless Wardrobe, you purchase an ad spot for $1.00 per item. Each item is listed for 30 days for that $1.00. If your item sells, you will be forwarded the money (via paypal) without any additional fees (well, less paypal’s original fees). The only fee you will incur is the upfront ad spot purchase! All items ship for free, so you build your shipping into your listing price.

This site is basically a place to list your gently used items (even maternity!), no more than 2 years old (preferrably..it’ll only help you sell!). You might even have stuff you’ve never worn before or even still has tags on it. So why not put it up for sale and see if you can add some cash to your pocket!

There are a few items already for sale in the shoppe, so you must head over and check it out. And if you are ready to get to listing your own items, click on the Sell Tab to get started!! You’ll tell me how many items you want to list initially, and I’ll send over an invoice and then the link to where you can start uploading your stuff!

I would love for you to follow Fabuless Wardrobe’s social media channels so you never miss a new item added to the shoppe!!
Instagram, Facebook, Twitter, and Pinterest

Thanks again, Sarah, for allowing me to share my brand new dream-turned-reality!! And I hope to see you all selling your items soon!! What are you waiting for??? Get shopping/listing now!!

….Excellent!   (as much as one can say that after a single week of work, but based heavily on one’s perceived ability to identify good people when one sees them)

I’ve always thought the perfect job was defined as follows: 1) I care about the subject matter; 2) I work with truly talented and pleasant people; and 3) the leadership is great.

I’ve just transitioned out of one job where 1, 2 and 3 were true and, near as I can tell, into another job where 1, 2, and 3 are true.  God is God.  Therefore, coincidences and “lucky” aren’t real and I’m feeling some serious gratitude in the midst of this change that I can say EXCELLENT.

Change is good, and so is my new job.

And, by way of disclaimer, I’ll get some legit content on this ‘ol blog soon!

It’s the clang of change and of fresh beginning.

In hindsight, a season of newness, a time of packing away the “old” way of doing things and of fueling up for a new track, is greatly therapeutic for me.  My past experience tells me to expect a lot of flavor and energy and crispness in coming weeks.

At the same time, the control freak who lives in my heart keeps warning me that I won’t be the pilot in this season and my affection for order and constancy is going to be unfed.

Today, I find myself wedged between my thirst for newness and spontaneity and my reliance on routine and predictability and MY GOODNESS, what a cool place that is.  I don’t know whether to freak out or throw a party and that confusion leads to peals of forward motion.  I’ve got energy, I’m not sure where to put it, and thankfully God’s taking it out of my hands and sending it where it belongs.

I’m looking forward to basking in this sweet spot, even if only for a few days, as the gears grind on.

After eight years of working as a contract consultant to 800 lb gorilla corporate clients from a gloriously isolated home office, I’ll be walking into the headquarters of an equally large gorilla as a full-time hired consultant, focused on translating omnibus legislation confusion into publicly consumable and usable information.

That’s right.  I’m trading pajamas-past-noon and folding-laundry-during-conference-calls workdays for suits and water cooler chit-chat.  Back into the corporate frying pan.

I’m nervous like a kid on her first day in kindergarten

Wish me luck?

Anyway, I stopped running.

Stopped logging 20-30 miles a week.  Stopped training for the 12 races I registered for in 2013 (without insurance, dangit).

Abandoned my preferred form of therapy.

Freaked out a little bit.

Regrouped and boring-worked-out (In my own private version of the movie Office Space, I beat a recumbent bike to smithereens in an open field).

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And I…

…got crazy toned.  So that’s my first revelation:  “THEY” ARE RIGHT!  Cross-training, even when it burns fewer calories and fails to leave you breathless actually does challenge your body in a way that produces visible results.  Y’all I’ve got a six-pack.  Of abs [and beer].  I’m not going to take a picture because it’s not my thing and I sense that such pix might breed more negativity than not.  You’ll have to trust me.  But I’m more cut than I’ve been in any year in my thirties.  Or in my twenty-nines.  Shout out to the bike, the Arc trainer, the pool and my husband’s stupid-large collection of free-weights.

…didn’t lose  or gain weight.  Because, BECAUSE (gasp!) despite what you read/hear/think, women don’t need to be in a constant state of trying to lose weight and if you’re at an ideal weight, having to back off of 700-calorie-burn workouts shouldn’t result in weight gain.   Also, I hate gyms.  That’s unrelated to my weight, but I just wanted to say it.

…fell into a surreal place I can’t quite describe. I think I’m in a type of shock. I feel like I’m in a bit of a haze some days and sort of all-around directionless, though by no means depressed or unproductive.  I supposed it might be described as “relaxed” but that’s not how I’d describe it – it makes me nervous.  I mentioned earlier that running has likely become an idol for me, so perhaps this is withdrawal from that drug.  For now, I’m looking forward to some upcoming (non-fitness) changes that will necessarily add structure and schedule to my life and may, in a healthy way, fill the gap left by running.

Needless to say, this forced running ban hasn’t been altogether bad.  I certainly, truly, definitely miss my quiet time, zoned out on a favorite running route, but there’s great growth in having to adjust and I’m eating that growth with gusto.  Here’s hoping this grumpy foot of mine decides it’s done rebelling and that I’m devoted enough to keep flexing new muscles in less comfortable ways.