How to Have a Crummy Wedding

I'll do my best to approach this lightheartedly and avoid melodrama.  The topic could easily sway into the morose, and certainly unavoidably dips into sadness, but I'll do my best to focus on the ridiculous and herald the heroes along the way, because heroes there most certainly were and the ridiculous keeps us laughing.

TOP 10 WAYS TO HAVE A CRUMMY WEDDING

1.  Get an Incredibly Inconveniently Timed Diagnosis.

A few days after our joyous day of engagement and swift, fortuitously accepted offer on what would become our family home, I got a good-news-bad-news call from my doctor, at my desk at work.  The bad news was malignant melanoma.  The good news was he was pretty sure we'd caught it in time and all would be well.  I took him at his word and kept planning the wedding, figuring the little (ha!) procedure to remove the skin cancer would be water under the bridge in a few weeks and we'd all just keep skipping along.

My little procedure turned out to be a pretty intense surgery that took a large enough chunk out of my back, that a skin graft was impossible and a Z-plasty was necessary, which left me with a large, pretty awesome Zorro-ish scar on my back.  The news that it meant I had to have another surgery soon to scoop out some lymph nodes and test them for cancer was not awesome.  And a few weeks later, when that surgery was over and the test results were positive for cancer, we all had one of our darkest days and worst nights.  Enough said about that.  It also meant that I had to have yet one more surgery to remove all lymph nodes from under my arm, and then meet with an oncologist to discuss treatment.

2.  Plan Your Wedding in a Parking Lot.

The first oncologist appointment, in mid-February was a life-changing one.  Between scheduling the 3 surgeries, waiting for recovery and followup after each, along with necessary pre-op procedures, we were now a couple months into our engagement and had already put our deposits down on everything. The bridesmaids had purchased dresses, and things were all moving swiftly towards the glorious wedding day of June 26.

While he hesitated to tell us when or whether we should get married, the oncologist made it very clear that the next 52 weeks would leave me pretty knocked out and anything I was planning to do in the next year, or needed to do to get myself in the best living and care situation for treatment, I needed to do immediately.  We excused ourselves for a few minutes and went to the parking lot.

After a swift conference, we agreed.  We'd get married in a few days.  Immediate family only.  That was that.  We called Mark's brother, my sister and our parents from the parking lot.  "Friday," we said. "We're getting married on Friday.  We hope you can make it."  Both our siblings were living 3000 miles away on the east coast at the time, so it was no small task for them.  Thus ended the wedding planning.

3.  Personally Uninvite Dozens of People You Really Love and Want to Come.

My brain was pretty pickled at this point and while I could wrap my brain around planning a wedding for a very few people, I could not fathom pulling it off to include everyone.  Or even half of them.  Or even extended family.  Once we crossed the line into dear close friends and aunts, uncles and cousins, the number would bump up exponentially and I just couldn't handle it.  It had to be the same for everyone.  No one could come.  We made one exception: Stefan.

I called my best, and very beloved, friends from high school and college and told them on the phone that I was starting cancer treatment immediately, the wedding was cancelled, we'd be getting married in a few days and they were not invited.  And I hoped they could return their bridesmaids dresses.  I know they would have been there for me in a heart beat if I'd let them.  Those phone calls were rather gut-wrenching.  I'm sure they felt like I'd punched them in the face.

The same process was repeated for beloved cousins, aunts and uncles, including the uncle whom I had asked to perform my ceremony.  The church in which the ceremony would be held required committee approval of visiting pastors, but the committee didn't meet until Monday and we were getting married on Friday.  That was that.

4.  Meticulously Plan Every Detail, Then Throw It All out the Window.

Ritual, ceremony, music, beauty, and faith are of deep importance to me, and my wedding was going to incorporate these elements in a glorious expression of God's majesty through the sacred rite of marriage in which Mark and I would pledge our lives to each other, accepting God's gift of each other in our lives, and also bind ourselves together as a new family with Jordan.

Much as I have been vain plenty of times in my life, when it came to my wedding, I had not given that much thought to the dress, hair and makeup.  I had, however, devoted countless hours selecting the exact prayers, scriptural passages, hymns, vows and music, including an 8 voice acapella choir that would sing a passage from Song of Solomon.  I had bought books on the Christian wedding liturgy of every denomination so I could choose the best from each.

Every one of those details was chucked out the window.  (refer to previous sentences referencing a committee and a pickled brain)  No music, neither hymns nor choir.  No scripture readers.  No personally selected liturgical elements.

We had also chosen, reserved, and placed non-refundable deposits on the church, the reception site, the florist, photographer, and wedding dress.  All for June 26.  My dress wasn't due to come in until April, two months after we would already be married.  We were hoping to still get married in the church, but figured everything else was just kaput.

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WE INTERRUPT THIS CRUMMY WEDDING STORY TO PRESENT YOU OUR HEROES

Presented in Random Order- not by rank.  All are heroes.

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THE PROFESSIONAL HEROES:

Anonymous Girl Who Gave Me Her Wedding Dress

When I called the bridal salon and explained the situation and essentially asked for an exception to their No Refunds-No Exceptions rule, they gave me one better.  They called back and said that another girl had just happened to order the exact dress I did.  In the exact same size. And it was coming in tomorrow. But her wedding wasn't until May, so she would take my dress when it came in and let me take hers.  Wow.

Brad Elliot and Wife

I left a cryptic message on his machine that the wedding was off and I was so sorry to have to cancel his photography services, with no other details.  I figured that was the end of the story.  While it made me incredibly sad to have no professional photographs, there was no way I would even dream of asking him to come down to Orange County from Santa Barbara on a weekday with no notice.  The next day I got a phone call from a woman who introduced herself as Brad's wife.  We had never met or spoken before.  She said she didn't even really know why she was calling, except that she had a very strong impression that she was supposed to pray for me and ask me if there was something she could do for me.  I broke down, she got off the phone, and then called back a few minutes later to say that she and Brad would be there to photograph the wedding on Friday afternoon.

Event Planner at the Center Club

I made the same phone call to her as the others.  The wedding is off (not the marriage, but the June 26 event) and could they possibly make an exception to their non-refundable deposit?  Again, they did one better.  

Did I know they have smaller, private dining rooms?  

No, I didn't.  

Would I like the deposit applied to a fabulous dinner/tiny wedding reception for 15 people (4 grandparents, 4 parents, 2 siblings, 1 brother-in-law, 1 Stefan, 1 son, 1 bride and 1 groom)  in one of the smaller rooms?   

Uhhhh (pickled brains think "uhhh" a lot).  Well, since I had no plan to feed anyone after the tiny wedding, that would actually be kind of amazing.

Wait!  Do you need a wedding cake?

Uhhhh.  That would probably be nice.

What would you like? Round or square?  Traditional or modern?  Flavor?

Uhhhh. 

No problem, I'll take care of it.

Okay. Thank you.

Wait!  Did you want flowers?  Centerpieces? Flowers on the cake?

Uhhhh.

I'll take care of it.  What color is the wedding?

Uhhh.  Whatever color dress my sister wears.

What color is her dress?

I have no idea. 

I'll take care of it.

And that's how it went.  It hadn't even occurred to me that I could pull off a tiny wedding reception with no notice, or that I should feed people after the ceremony, or that I could still have a cake, and flowers, and champagne.  She thought of everything.  And she took care of everything, just like that.

Here's how she did the cake.  It was truly impressive how she made the little two layer cake look like it actually deserved a whole table to itself:

Tustin Presbyterian Church & Bob Volbrecht

The church cheerfully let us have the sanctuary at 5pm on a Friday, as long as we were in and out quickly because they needed to set up for an event the next morning.  The wedding coordinator was there to let us in and place a couple candelabras up front to make it look semi-wedding-ish.  Bob Volbrecht showed up for us on the very short notice given and pulled some organ music out of his hat so I could walk up and down the aisle to music.  He chose a Bach piece called "God's Time is Best." Retired pastor Leslie Atkinson agreed to marry us after a quickie 10 minute first meeting, based on the strength of his relationship with the family.

In one 24-hr period I went from getting married in a random dress with family snapshots and then going home, to my original church wedding, wearing my originally selected dress, miraculously delivered, with professional photography, followed by a small but fabulous dinner reception, wedding cake and all.  I cannot overstate my gratitude to everyone involved.

PERSONAL HEROES

Our Parents, Siblings and Grandparents: for rolling with the punches and taking it in stride.  No one tried to take over the planning, or tell us what we should do differently, or that we were making a mistake.  They just said okay, and they were there.  And for Windy& Kyle and Brad, being there meant arranging hasty and probably expensive airfare, taking time off work and probably a good deal of other upheaval.

Bridal Party, Dear Friends and Extended Family:  for not hating us for being univited, or for keeping it to yourself if you did.  And for loving us from afar when I was cocooning.

Jen, Sheree, Heather, Michelle, Joiwind, Jenny:  for giving me an after-the-fact bridal shower in my family room, which took me getting over my self-pity to truly appreciate.  It was an act of friendship and love, and considering how the wedding went down, was truly selfless of them.

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NOW BACK TO OUR REGULARLY SCHEDULED PROGRAM:

HOW TO HAVE A CRUMMY WEDDING, CONTINUED.

5.  Schedule the Ceremony Immediately After a Major Surgery That Requires a Drainage Bulb to Hang out of Your Body.

The drainage bulb was supposed to stay in for a week, though I won't gross you out with why.  I placed the surgeon in a terribly difficult situation.  Medically, it was supposed to stay in.  He knew it and I knew it.  But I stood in his office literally crying, and begging, to please, please not make me get married and take a honeymoon with a drainage bulb.  PLEASE.  He relented, against his better judgment and was immediately punished with what happened when he removed it.  Sorry, surgeon. My fault, I know.  I'm really sorry.

Free of the bulb, the medical inconvenience was reduced to daily surgical-area bandage changing by Mark.  Sexy.

6.  Allow No Time for Dress Alterations.

I really am incredibly grateful and amazed that I was able to wear a wedding dress at all, much less the one I wanted.  Don't mistake any of this for ingratitude.  It isn't. Still, it was a little funny that because it was unaltered and therefore a smidge too big, the shoulder straps occassionally drooped and the bodice was loose.

7.  Forget to Arrange for Any Private Moment or Separate Dressing Spaces.  

Mark's parents generously let us use their home for everyone to get ready, so we all just got dressed in bathroom shifts in the same house.  I helped Mark get his tie straight and he saw me wandering around the house in the dress and no shoes or makeup.  We all piled in together to drive to the church.  It was special in its own way, but we never got that "moment".  You know the one.  There's only one chance to have it, and we just blew it.

8.  Choose a Ceremony Time in the Middle of Rush Hour.  

A 5:00 p.m. Friday ceremony, meant that poor Brad Elliot and his wife were stuck in interminable traffic between Santa Barbara and Orange County in their gallant quest to come photograph the wedding.  They were completely unable to make it to the house for any pre-ceremony pictures, so we all stood in Mark's parents back yard and Kyle arranged us in different groupings and did a wonderful job of making sure we would have plenty of photos of us all, even in Brad's absence.

In the end, brave Brad Elliot and wife squealed up to the curb in front of the church 5 minutes before the ceremony was to start (which, because of other church commitments, was non-negotiable).  He jumped out camera in hand and spent a quick 5 minutes grabbing a few portraits of Mark and I together before we were told in no uncertain terms that we had to get in the sanctuary and start forthwith.

Below is one shot from our brief photo session.  You'd never know this wasn't a wedding-of-the-usual-kind from the photo.  Well done, Brad.

9.  Have Your Rehearsal 30 Seconds Before the Actual Ceremony.

When Mark and I got in the church after our quickie photo session, we expected to begin the actual ceremony and play it by ear.  After all, it was the bare bones basics.  Oh no.  The pastor wanted us to rehearse it first.  Right then.  So, in loose-fitting wedding dress and tux, we walked through the entire ceremony. The pastor said he was satisfied and we would now do it for real.  Ohhhkay.  That won't be anti-climactic at all.  (<<< sarcasm)

As gracefully as was possible, Windy, my dad and I walked to the back of the church, past all the empty pews, and simply turned back around. Bob started playing the organ, and we stood there for a moment wondering when we were supposed to go back up, when we remembered there was no "supposed to", nobody was there but us and we might as well just walk back where we just came from. So Windy just started walking at some point and my dad and I followed behind, once again past the sea of empty pews.  Oh hey, wasn't I just here a few seconds ago?  Why, yes.  Yes, I was.  Good to see all of you up here.  Again.  Have I made my point yet or does it bear...repeating?  I could tell dumb jokes all day folks.  Or maybe just two, one right after the other.  Ba-doom ching.

10.  Do the Awkward Denial Dance

It's always fun when there's an unspoken, unwanted, but very present guest at a wedding, isn't it?  We all acted as if we weren't having a cancer-wedding, winced only ever-so-slightly whenever the word "death" peeked out from the vows and liturgy, and generally stuck our grins on and were HAPPY.  Definitely not sad, or worried, or scared to death.  Just HAPPY.

In all honesty, there were plenty of moments that were pure and undiluted by the unwelcome guest, and I'm so glad Brad managed to click fast enough to catch this candid one right after the ceremony.

I waited until we were checked into our wedding night hotel to break down crying.

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BEFORE WE CLOSE, WE'D LIKE TO ACKNOWLEDGE A FEW MORE HEROES

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David Kritz

He stepped in as my doctor immediately after I got the inital diagnosis, answered dozens of questions, handled all the referrals, acted as a friend as well as a physician, and lent us his white Lexus to use for the day of the wedding.

Brad Elliot, Again

When we entered the church, he saw that we had set up an unattended home video camera on a tripod in the balcony.  We had not paid for any video service from him.  He volunteered to man the camera from the balcony and take ceremony pictures from up there.  Then, he followed us to the dinner, took pictures of us making a toast, cutting the cake and some group shots.  Then I realized I had completely not accounted for feeding him.  Pickled brain.  Here they were, hours from home, out of love and graciousness and I had no arrangements for feeding them.  My father paid them, which they tried to decline and I'm sure the amount they accepted was far below what their time was worth.  To this day, I feel terrible that I thanked them and said goodbye without feeding them dinner.  I hope they found something really nice and very cheap near where we were.  I will sing their praises as not just good photographers, but good people, forever.

Shamus

I don't even know this person's real name.   I just know that he was a good friend of Mark's mom and she called him and let him know everything that was happening.  (edited to add:  Mark informs me his name is Jim Brady.  Thank you, Jim!) He then set up an enormous surprise for us at the Inn at Spanish Bay.  When we checked in to what was supposed to be a regular room on our quickie 3 day honeymoon, we were instead ushered into this room.

http://www.pebblebeach.com/accommodations/the-inn-at-spanish-bay/guest-rooms/presidential-suite

Holy Moly.  There was a letter welcoming us, a bottle of champagne and a basket of fresh fruit.  It was jaw-dropping.

Edited to Add: The Florist
Mark and I would also like to give some acknowledgment here to the florist, Alan Hill, though we can't find that he's still in business.  He worked with the Center Club event planner and I didn't have to think a single coherent thought about it.  He delivered bouquets to the house for my sister and I, and you can see, he put a good deal of effort and care into what he made for us, and it was his hands who decorated the cake table so beautifully as well.  As if that wasn't enough, one moment that we all still talk about is the loud collective gasp we all uttered when we walked into the dining room.  No exaggeration here.  Like a scene out of a movie, they opened the double doors and our little family party all just made a united sound of awe and appreciation.  We had not, and still have not, ever seen a table so artfully and completely strewn with flowers.  He didn't make centerpieces.  He treated the whole table like a flower art canvas and it was stop-in-your-tracks beautiful. 

Jordan
You'd think getting a new mom mid-childhood would be upheaval enough for a kid.  Add to the mix moving to a new house, a super-rushed wedding, and said new mom also being a new cancer patient and sick all the time, he would have been completely justified in being a basket case, throwing some good tantrums and racking up a healthy bill with a therapist.  But he didn't do any of those things.   Instead, he handled it like it was as easy as eating a peanut butter sandwich (which he loved), as if I had never not been his mom (Yes, double negative.  Leave it.), and it was perfectly normal for me to barf all the time.  And we bonded as mother and son at warp speed.  If you'd blinked, you'd have missed it.  Poof.  Done.  Nailed it.  Kid was a champ.  (but he did drink too much cider at the wedding, despite Kyle's continuous warning, and then had the bellyache to show for it)

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That first year was really nothing but awful.  I'll spare you the descriptions, but the marriage in the 15 yrs since the wedding, has been wonderful beyond words.  We do our best to remember all the heroes of those few days, and forget the crummy parts, but sometimes, we have a good chuckle over it all. 

AND THAT, MY FRIENDS, IS HOW TO HAVE A REALLY CRUMMY,

 BUT ABSOLUTELY INCREDIBLE, WEDDING.

Mark Solo

Mark did 30 minutes of solo flight time at Long Beach International Airport on Saturday morning.

He took off from Helistream at John Wayne Airport and flew from there to LGB with Perry, his instructor, in the copter with him. They landed at LGB, where Perry exited the copter, put Mark through some hover exercises and them gave him the signal to "Go!".

The film is a 5 minute clip of one solo pattern around the airport.  The 40 seconds of hovering before he begins forward motion are standard procedure as he calls the tower for clearance to take off.  Once given clearance, he begins to fly forward, low over the ground, and then begins to gain altitude.  For the rest of the flight, he is somewhere within 500 ft.

As he comes back in to land, you can see the small figure of Perry standing to the left of the landing pad.  After setting down, Mark would wait for the thumbs up to pick back up again, where he would call the tower for clearance, and repeat the pattern.

Jake and I were able to watch him in action, from the very comfortable lobby of Airflite Aviation, a private luxury terminal for chartered and personal aircraft (Mark says "fancy jets").  When he had finished 30 straight minutes of solo flight, he picked up Perry and they landed at our terminal, and came inside for cookies, congratulations and hugs.

Jake and I were then given permission to stand outside to watch his final takeoff and swing around the building, and watched as he disappeared into the sky, heading back to John Wayne. With him driving up from John Wayne, and us from Long Beach, we met in the middle at Boudin in South Coast Plaza, for some celebratory sourdough bread and discussion.

His next solo will be 60 minutes, after which he'll be about 7 1/2 hrs away from the minimum to test for his license.  Go Mark!

Day 4 (and 5): Out to Sea

This last post's lateness is the collateral damage associated with the first day of school arriving immediately after the last post combined with the ensuing energy crash of eastward jet lag.

Even so, this is the "late-on-a-Friday-night-when-I-should-be-in-bed" version, so expect inspiration and humorous description to be in short supply.  

This last full day in Polynesian paradise was to be snuba day, and Mark, Jake and I had to set the alarms early, to be downstairs by 6:00am for our pickup.  Snuba was one of the highlights of the previous trip with Jordan, and Jake was very much looking forward to it.  Since Jordan is no fan of sailing, he was opting out, and since Mark and I had had a great day alone with him the day before, it seemed fitting to have this be a special outing with just Jake.

We drove westward around the island by the Disney Aulani resort, surrounded by the expansive Ko'Olani resort, where the catamaran was docked.  Upon check-in we were told that the boat maxes out at 50 guests, but there would be only 15 of us aboard.  Of the other 12 guests, 6 were Japanese (a family of four and a honeymooning couple) and had a Japanese host on board just for them, 2 were a couple from France, and the four other Americans were a couple and a mother & daughter.  The four other English speakers kept very much to themselves, so at times it felt like we had the boat to ourselves and everyone had plenty of space to themselves for lounging or sunbathing.

The weather was perfect, the wind was gentle, and the sea was a shade of sapphire unlike the color of California's Pacific waters.  After the brief orientation when pulling out of dock, we settled onto the pads on the very top, next to the mast, with the sail giving our pale bodies a generous shroud of shade that didn't diminish in the least the subtle elation of feeling the wind in our faces, enjoying the vast expanse of ocean and feeling the rise and fall of the catamaran as we passed over small swells.

For the first hour of sailing, we looked for dolphins and whales, and not seeing any didn't disappoint us at all, since we we do get to see those at home and it was a glorious day on the water, with or without sea mammals.  Mark and Jake were good sports about me having the camera in their faces and even posed a few times.

At the first anchor point, it was our turn for snuba, while everyone else snorkled.  We all suited up and slipped into the water easily.  Unfortunately, the regulator felt very different from the last one and the force with which I had to inhale and exhale made me feel like I was hyperventilating, even though I was perfectly calm.  With Jake and I both going down for short periods and coming back up, our lines got pretty tangled, which had Jake mad at me for the rest of the day as he felt he couldn't just swim freely with my line entwined with his, and me not handling breathing with the regulator well.  Mark, as usual, was off and swimming along the bottom, 20 feet down and having a blast.  Just as I was settling into the regulator and ready to stay under for a while, our guide told us it was time to pull anchor and head to our second spot.  Bummer.

After a brief sail to the next anchor spot, over a living reef, we got in the water again, to snorkle with everyone else this time.

After pulling anchor on the second spot, we settled in to enjoy the sail back to harbor.  On the way, one of the Japanese toddlers got playful with Mark and decided that he wanted a wrestling match, language barrier be darned, and just climbed on and play-punched Mark until he engaged, and got half the boat laughing hysterically in the process.

The danger approaches from behind

The wind was stronger on the sail in and Jake had fun leaning into the wind.

Jake even got to drive the boat when the sails were down..

Overall, Jake felt like this about the day.  We all did.

When we got back to the hotel room, we had planned to take Jake to the USS Missouri, the last major item on his must-do list, but we were pooped with a capital P.  As relaxing as it felt while we were enjoying the sun, wind and water, I could do nothing but shower, change and collapse on the hotel bed.  Thankfully, Jake had a bit more energy and joined Jordan, along with Brad, Nika and the girls playing and swimming down on Waikiki Beach.  Brad and Jordan ventured out further than the others swimming and realized through the miracle of pink girl's swim goggles that what they had thought were rocks, was in fact coral.  It was interesting and fun until an eel popped out of a hole at Jordan and displayed his menacing teeth.  While Jordan got a faceful of eel, Brad found a sea turtle, which was much less alarming.

We once again all mustered for dinner and headed for the Chart House at the marina.  Jan was very pleased with the location and all was well until I started feeling very dizzy and nauseous, probably a side effect of having hyperventilated and spent half the day rocking on a boat, so Mark accompanied me back to the hotel room while the others finished their meals.

I didn't feel well until the next morning, but awakened with Mark in time for sunrise and one last walk alone together.

And then it was time to head to the airport and go home.

Day 3: Living History

The next morning seemed to have equalized our sleep a bit more.  I was finally not feeling desperately sleep-deprived and the boys were sleeping longer than 5:30am.  Mark took advantage of the propensity of the rest of us to move slowly in the morning by getting in good morning workouts.

Jake had to be fed and downstairs by 7:30am to meet the others going to Pearl Harbor that morning (another part of the Jordan Hawaii experience for him).  He went with his Grandad, Uncle Brad & Agathe, who also had never seen the USS Arizona memorial.  I fielded one grumpy phone call from Jake because I'd only made reservations for the Arizona and not for the Missouri, because I'd wanted it to be a half-day excursion for them and not take up an entire day for everyone who went with Jake, and seeing the Missouri meant a shuttle ride from the Pearl Harbor visitor center onto base and out to Ford Island, in addition to the time spent on the boat.  We promised to take him back by ourselves for the USS Missouri the next day.

While the Pearl Harbor group was gone, Mark and I took another walk through Honolulu, down Kalakaua, up to the canal, to secure a rental car for the day.  We had decided to head up to the North Shore, to hopefully see the turtles migrating in, to swim in Waimea Falls, and see what we could along the way to and from.  We knew that Jordan's declared plan for the whole trip was to dig himself a hole in the sand on the beach and not move, so we assumed he wasn't coming along, and we let the others know we had one seat left in the backseat for anyone else who wanted to, as we waited for Jake to get back to join us.

When Jake did get back, he was d-o-n-e with driving for the day and did not want to go, and since Jan had an appointment at the cathedral in the afternoon and no plans to go out and about until the next day, she said he could stay with her.  Jordan surprised us next by bounding out of the bedroom in his swim trunks saying he wanted to go and just needed to run down to a sandal shop and buy some flip flops.

Once the sandal purchase was made, the three of us loaded up in the car and headed out, Mark and I savoring the unexpected pleasure of a day of just the three of us which, with Jordan in his mid-twenties,  no longer living at home, working three jobs and dating seriously, you can imagine doesn't happen very often. 

We hit the road and immediately hit traffic, but with cheerful demeanors and time to spare, we didn't care too much.  It took us a little more than an hour to reach the historic north shore town of Haleiwa and to locate Giovanni's Shrimp Truck within it, tucked down off the road in a shady dirt parking lot with other shrimp trucks and picnic tables.  We each got the #1, a pound of shell-on shrimp scampi with 2 scoops of rice, topped with the scampi garlic mixture.  It was messy eating, but completely worth the drive, and Mark signed our name ("Schmidt" for all of us) on the truck before we left.

After we had our fill of lunch, we turned northbound along the north shore, where it became evident that many others were there to see the turtles also, seriously clogging the tiny 2-lane country road, so we passed through the traffic and proceeded on to Waimea Valley.

Once there, we grabbed our bag full of towels and started out on the .75 mile hike uphill to reach the falls.  It was a hot, muggy day (though I hear we have nothing to complain about considering what the weather was in CA while we were gone), so it was a good thing we were heading towards water.  When Mark was there twenty years ago with Stefan on a buddy spring-break trip, the falls were unattended and peaceful.  Since then, there have been drownings, including a SD Border Patrol agent a few months ago,  so now all swimmers are required to wear life jackets and instructed to stay away from the side walls of the 30-ft deep pond under the falls, with which we duly complied.

Getting into the falls is the hardest part, as the rocks are sharp in the shallow water before it's deep enough to slide off your feet, but once we did, we enjoyed the cool water and the view of the falls from below.  Jordan was unimpressed with the falls, and called it "cute" and declined to be photographed with the required life jacket floating up to his ears, but hung out in the water with us until he was too cold and went back to retrieve the phone so I could attempt to take some pics.  After passing the phone along a human chain from Jordan to Mark to me, we ventured back out towards the falls to calls of "Brave!" at me swimming out with my iPhone.  I offered to take the picture of a father and son from Ohio and send it to them, in hopes they would return the favor.  Alas they did not, so while we have a lovely picture of them, we have only a horrific attempt at a floating selfie by Mark and I.  Try to imagine Mark and I looking happy and serene in the place of their lovely Midwestern faces included below, and we'll all be happier for it.

After deciding we'd left Jordan standing on land watching us canoodle in life jackets long enough, Mark and I headed in to shore and we all started on the hike back down to the valley entrance.  Jordan was just enjoying the walk, and I was blissfully happy taking pictures of trees, until  Mark pointed out how many dead frog carcasses were on the pathway, likely the result of the rather aggressively driven shuttles which zoomed past every few minutes, shuttling the visitors who declined to walk back and forth from the falls.  Thanks, Mark.  

Once back in the car, we zipped just a few yards down the road to Waimea Bay, where there were no parking spots available, no matter how many times we circled, so eventually I just jumped out, determined to stand on the north shore, while the guys circled the lot waiting for me.

We inched our way back down the road to where we would turn inland to head towards the Dole Plantation, determined to grab some pineapple ice cream before calling it a day.  Once clear of the the north shore traffic, it's a quick drive to the plantation and, thankfully, parking is plentiful.  We didn't have time to stay and explore the pineapple fields or maze and still make it back in time for dinner with everyone, so we just gave the main building a once-over, got our pineapple float and two ice cream bowls with crushed pineapple topping and were back off towards town, hoping that the choking Honolulu traffic wouldn't make us late.  We made it back to the hotel in the narrowest nick of time imaginable, flew back up to the suite to fling off our bathing suits and throw on dry clothes in time to meet everyone in the lobby where we divided into a taxi group and a walking group.  

Rewinding a bit, while Mark, Jordan and I were enjoying the north shore, Brad, Nika and the girls took an eco walking tour of Oahu.  They saw ruins, the royal burial grounds, some glorious viewpoints and got a mini-education in homeopathic plant-based remedies that their tour guide and his physician friend have spent the last 30 years studying in Hawaii, which were nicely compiled into a thick booklet they came away with to bring home.  Who knew that a citrus juice soak cures athlete's foot?

Dinner that night was at Duke's, and it was fabulous.  The Hawaiian trio serenaded Mark Sr. & Jan for their 45th anniversary, and the other large group in the restaurant sounded off with not only the USC alma mater, but also a rousing So Cal Spellout.  Mark and I snuck off for another beach moment alone, and everyone traded stories of how we'd spent our day.  Day 3 in the books.