---

Road to adventure
hits many potholes

My life has degenerated into a personification of Murphy's Law. Plus, I'm caught up in some sort of film hell: an old Elvis movie with a touch of Ma and Pa Kettle and the "Twilight Zone" thrown in.

Yes, everyone said it rains a lot in Hilo, but I thought they meant outside. I can handle rain. After all, I'm from Kaneohe. But I spent my first week here watching water fall out of my ceiling into some Wal-Mart bags I had stuffed with newspapers.

Selling my home of 18 years and moving away from Oahu, my home island for 35 years, has been exceedingly painful. I hope it's the stress, agony, nostalgia and exhaustion causing me to feel disoriented, and not some lasting dementia.

I thought I had things under control, even though I knew I was in a state of denial. I had vowed to live my life as usual until escrow closed, and I did. Then I gave away more of my belongings and started packing. After the movers picked up the huge storage shipment, I had a week to get ready for the shipment to the apartment.

I worked night and day and realized many more things should have gone with the storage shipment, but it was too late. I was swamped with stuff. And I was trying to tie up loose ends and say my goodbyes and visit all my neighborhood dog friends. Everything was falling apart.

Things worsened when, instead of the wonderful movers who had come for the storage shipment, I got a two-man team (the third man never showed up) more muddled than I was. Although I had packed 48 boxes myself, the movers were there all day. It was chaos. I spent the last sleepless night in my home on the floor.

Four or five cleaning people came early the next day. They were everywhere. More chaos. As my last day dwindled to hours, I lost sense of time and space and order. I was throwing things into suitcases and boxes to store in the cars for later shipment, and gathering more things to give away. A friend came to pick me up and saw that I was nowhere near ready.

When I couldn't find the envelope of keys that I had been carefully gathering and labeling, I became so rattled that I locked us out of the house, which would have been OK except that my most important bag was still inside: the carry-on containing all my dogs' ashes and a few special photos, plus all my money, credit cards and tickets. So we had to break in. I had made the house so hard to break into that it wasn't easy. Was it really breaking glass I heard or my few remaining brain cells shattering?

THE PLANE WAS taking off before I ever got out of Kaneohe. I tried to get on the last flight to Hilo, but it was overbooked. So I, a person who usually travels with one bag, had to take my mountain of stuff to a hotel near the airport.

I looked like a fugitive. I was sweaty and wearing dirty shorts and a stained T-shirt and old flip-flops. I hadn't even brushed my teeth. I was black and blue, plus bleeding from various cuts.

I hadn't eaten all day, so I thought I'd pick up something from the hotel's restaurant. They said it was closed. Well, of course it was! They said I could take their shuttle to another airport hotel. I went to my room, thinking I'd forgo food. My growling stomach sent me to get the shuttle. I was sitting in that restaurant, waiting to order, and realized my wallet was missing. I had a little money in my pocket, so I ordered soup to go. I had to wait a half-hour for the return shuttle but finally got back to my room and was relieved to find my wallet. I spent another sleepless night before returning to the airport at 5 a.m.

As I watched Oahu disappear from view, I lamented that my last days there had been so awful. And now I was leaving. I fought off an enormous sadness.

A few days later, I, a huge NBA fan, had to find a TV because it was playoff time and I sorely needed some amusement. I had no choice but to drink four Heinekens at a bar downstairs to be able to watch a game. But after the owner, who would make an excellent interrogator, questioned me about all aspects of my life, she handed me the remote and started bringing me food. Her homemade mandoo was outstanding, as were the delicate mahi and a slew of other stuff.

A few days later, a bad cold and laryngitis took me down another notch. I seem to be engulfed in a thick fog, but this is my first step to a new adventure, and I expect to start having fun any day now.

---