Food Friday: Brave Horse Tavern | Soft Pretzel

I need only say two things in addition to this photo:

1) Fresh out of the oven
2) Accompanied by an assortment of homemade mustards

Thank you, Tom Douglas.

Fry

So I realized last weekend that I have yet to post anything here about the most recent member of our family.  In fact, it's been a while since I've talked about any my furry kids!  How very unlike me.

World, meet Fry.

Just ignore his crazy mutant eyes. He's a cat and can't help it.

Fry's full name is Philip K. Fry (after the infamous Philip J. Fry; the "K" stands for Kitty, duh).  His nicknames include Cat (me), Chapeaumelon (Jon), and Fatty (after Roscoe "Fatty" Arbuckle).  He is a 10-month-old kitten that we adopted back in January from a no-kill shelter in Seattle called Animal Talk Rescue.  Our uneducated guess is that he has some Maine Coon in him (looks), possibly Ragdoll (behavior), and rounded off with some good old fashioned tabby cat.  Also, he's maybe the cutest/sweetest cat alive.  I know a lot of people say this about their pets, but it's true.  I have never met a cat so utterly chill and cuddly than this orange ball of fluff right here.

I promise: I did not pose them like this. (And please excuse the blurriness. Pictures with no movement and demon-eyes are hard to come by.)

He absolutely adores the dogs, and they love wrestling and cuddling with him.  He's floppy and silly and kissy; he will let you do almost anything to him.  You can toss him across the couch onto one of the dogs, and he will just settle and sleep wherever he lands.

Getting a cat on top of two highly energetic dogs may not have been the smartest idea, but it was obvious from the moment that Jon moved in that he just wasn't complete without a cat around.  I had wanted a cat for Ennis, before getting Peekay, but the presence of my most favorite embroidered armchair made me hesitant.  Cats are evil and they destroy everything in their path!  But when I saw this little man advertised through the shelter's Web site, well... I couldn't help myself; he was the exact cat we'd been waiting for.

Cut to now: Fry has made my favorite chair a scratching post; he's started knocking things off of the counter/fridge for Peekay to eat or chew up; he stays up all night and plays with the blinds or our feet, and his little mouth smells infinitely of fish.  We're almost certain he has brain damage, because he sees things that aren't there and has no concept of object permanence.  He's loud, he's rude, and he doesn't listen to me when I scream "Cat!!" at him.

He's absolutely nothing but trouble, but oh my goodness he is the cutest most awesome kitty in the entire world, seriously, I could just smoosh his little face forever.  And when he's old and lazy, he will be absolutely perfect.

Happy Fry-day, everyone!  (Heh heh, yeah I did.)

"Everything was beautiful at the ballet..."

"Moon Light Purple" by BalletArt

One of the perks of Jon's job is that we get a chance to do, eat, and see things that we would otherwise never be able to afford.  It's made the stress of his job somewhat more bearable, and it's made Seattle a whole lot more fun.

Tonight, as a member of the Concierge Guild of Seattle, Jon got two tickets to see Pacific Northwest Ballet's production of Giselle in its last night of dress rehearsal.  It would have been perfect except I was having a What does one wear to the ballet?! crisis, and with the added difficulty of parking, we were 20 minutes late.  Whoops!

Turns out, not a big deal!  Know why?  Because if you know the synopsis of the show, there is pretty much nothing you can miss in a ballet performance.  Its very root is based in tradition and precedence, which means that virtually every professional performance of the show prior has been exactly the same, give or take a few mavericks.

"The Ballerina" by BalletArt

The story of Giselle is, I guess, a love story.  Personally, I think it's a pretty depressing look at a girl who has really bad judgement.  The synopsis reads romantic, but in reality, this is what I got from it:

Giselle is a poor farm girl who meets a poor farm boy she thinks is named Loys, but is really a duke named Albrecht.  Albrecht has escaped to the forest, basically to get some cute-dancing-farm-girl action before his big ol' royal wedding to some chick-princess named Bathilde.  Meanwhile, Giselle's previous suitor and real farm boy, Hilarion, is all kinds of jealous.  Poor Hilarion, in an attempt to save Giselle from heartbreak and win back her love, reveals the truth only to have her drop dead (after lots of dancing) from a broken (and apparently weak) heart.

Later, Giselle is a ghost floating around with a gang of bitter ghost-brides, called the Wilis.  They lurk in the forest at night, seek out unfortunate men, and make them dance until they die.  (Of course, it's ballet, so there isn't really anything sinister about it.)  Enter Hilarion, who very quickly gets entangled in their pirouetting web and dies a very anti-climactic, off-stage death.  Meanwhile, Albrecht is in the forest bemoaning his lost mistress when the Wilis find him too. Luckily, Giselle's ghost saves him an awful fate... 'cause, you know... she loves him.  Even though he's a liar.

But it was a good show, really!  The sheer skill involved is astonishing; their feet move soooo fast, and I would literally have to start breaking things in order to be as flexible as the dudes in this show.  And what's not to like about flow-y dresses?  And big dance-miming arm movements?  And men in tights??  OK, in all seriousness though, watching great dancers always makes me think about whether I could have ever been a dancer too.  Maybe not for ballet, but some kind of dance—contemporary, maybe, or jazz.  I certainly missed my window there, but it's nice to imagine exuding a feminine poise that is both strong and delicate.

But I like french fries and cocktails and chocolate too much to ever hope for a future of waif-like proportions.  Ah well, c'est la vie.

I suppose that dance has been on my mind a lot lately, thanks in no small part to a certain impressive animation.  Maybe also 'cause "So You Think You Can Dance" just premiered again, which means it must be summer! Oh wait...

Also, these paintings:

 all three tutu paintings by Laurence Amélie

A few weeks ago, Rachel Ashwell of Shabby Chic brilliance dedicated a post to her friend and painter, Laurence Amélie, and I still cannot get enough.  I keep trying to placate myself by thinking They can't be that expensive, right?? which just makes me wish for an original of hers even harder.  Apparently there was a showcase of her work last month down in Santa Monica, at Rachel's flagship store.  I seriously considered for a split second that it was definitely necessarily for me to spend my birthday down in LA with my sister... with a quick trip to look at some stunning art work, of course.

Photo credit: Rachel Ashwell, paintings also by Laurence Amélie

Such simple subject matter, but with such stunning depth!  The pastels, the natural colors, the haphazard girlishness!  It makes me wish that professional ballet could adopt some of this spontaneity and vibrancy, which might make for some really engaging and startling visual spectacles.  But I guess that goes against the whole point of it, amiright??

::sigh:: See, here I go again, you guys, starting off a post about one thing and ending on something completely different.  My blog posts have turned into Simpsons episodes!  But really, this post was simply an excuse to talk about these paintings, and Lord knows I can't just post pictures—I have to write stuff.  It's a sickness.

The Art Form of the 20th Century

Yesterday, Jon treated me to an afternoon at the movies—with a bag of popcorn and everything!  We saw the documentary These Amazing Shadows, which is part of the 2011 Seattle International Film Festival line-up.

It's interesting how very rarely I talk about movies on here, because out of everything I've ever been interested in my whole life, movies are what I know and talk the most about.  Having had a film-obsessed father (I remember celebrating his 4,000th movie viewing with a screening of Meet the Fockers when I was 18), my sister and I did very little else growing up; we even became known among our friend group as the go-to movie-encyclopedia kids (this was before there was Google in everyone's pocket, of course).

When my interests expanded in college, I stopped going to the movies several times a week, which meant I stopped writing about it too.  Now, mostly because of how expensive it is, I'm lucky to go see a movie in theaters once a month!  So, yeah... this was a treat.

These Amazing Shadows could very easily have been a Turner Classic Movies interlude that gets shown between Mr. Smith Goes to Washington and Duck Soup on a Saturday afternoon—and that isn't necessarily a bad thing.  The film talks about the creation and subsequent purpose of the National Film Registry, which was introduced through Congress in the late-80's as a way of preserving films of "cultural, historical and aesthetic significance," and was sparked by Ted Turner's colorful-bastardization of classic B&W films.  (Read more about his dickery here.)  25 films a year are chosen to be added to this prestigious list, they must be at least 10 years old to qualify, and include feature length films, shorts, cartoons and newsreels, home movies and documentaries.

I mean, even this little gem of a video is included, ya'll.

Sometimes it's helpful to have a reminder of how magical art can be.  In the back of my mind, the power and sway that certain films have had over me is always something I feel and remember: when I saw Brokeback Mountain and was struck dumb-silent by a film for the very first time; after seeing In the Bedroom and realizing the difference between disliking a movie and thinking something is bad; recognizing absolute perfection in acting and film-making with On the Waterfront; and finally understanding the necessity of balance between performance, writing, cinematography, music and directing, thanks to American Beauty.  These movies and a thousand more have influenced me.  Watching These Amazing Shadows was able to remind me once again.  It's a humorous, emotional, and educational look at something positive that's come out of paying taxes.  When it shows up on Netflix, watch it.

OK, I'm gonna shift directions really quickly here.  Careful, no whiplash, please.

This documentary also taught me something new, which means that I am now going to share this new-found knowledge with you:  Did you know that there were more women writing and directing film in the 1910s and '20s than there were men?  Did you know that among these women, the highest-paid director working for Universal during this time period was a woman named Lois Weber?

Did you also know that she directed very controversial films with topics ranging from birth control and abortion to drug addiction??  Did you know that she started her own film production company and then eventually lost everything and "died penniless"??

I DIDN'T KNOW ANYTHING OF THIS!  I have been studying film for years and didn't watch anything but old B&W movies until I was 12, and neither Jon nor I have ever heard of this woman or her films.  HOW CAN THIS BE??

Just reading her Wikipedia page (what there is of it) makes me wonder how this woman's life hasn't already been made into a movie!  What an incredibly inspiring, tragic, and monumental story this could be! (Jon and I have decided that Michelle Williams should definitely play her.)  And, for some reason, the only biography about her costs upwards of $125 on Amazon!

I'm not generally preachy when it comes to feminism, but the bad rap of female writers and directors in film is just sad, you guys.  To think that Hollywood started off so equal and unbiased when it came to gender, then BAM! the 1930's hit and all successful women working in film went from the director's chair to the director's couch (if you catch my drift).  Imagine the contributions women could have made to film in the so-called "Golden Age of Hollywood" if they'd been taken seriously, as they once were!

Sigh.  Alright, rant over.

But really, am I the only one really surprised by this?  Maybe Jon and I are just idiots and have been living in misogynistic male-entrenched gutters all our lives, but seriously... Is the success of women in early film as big o' news to you as it is to me?

Lazy Weekends

"Sea Bed" painting by Clare Elsaesser of Tastes Orangey

It's almost June.  Normally, by this time of year, "almost June" would mean weekends of picnics in the grass, some urban hiking, dog park trips, and wearing nothing but dresses.

Sadly, today we saw the continued trend of 50º temperatures in Seattle and mere moments of sunlight (that, in and of itself, a blessing) scattered through thick oceans of gray.  After 8 solid months of cold, this weather has become physically, mentally and emotionally exhausting.  So instead of spending Memorial Day and our 3-day weekend camping on Orcas Island or enjoying the beach at Alki, our weekend will focus on something different:

Sleep. And doing as little as humanly possible.

If this weather can have no other positive outcome, it is at least an excuse to sleep with as much vigor and purpose as possible.  There is no question that Jon and I are sleep deprived, and I am starting to wonder if this weather-induced, physical depression I've been carrying with me could be responsible for my many restless nights, and my inability to sleep in when I actually have the time and ability to do so.

Going to sleep at night and getting up in the morning has always been a struggle for me, but with the regularity of my schedule and consistency of my diet, I can't quite wrap my head around these bouts of insomnia and extreme sluggishness.

What I really need is a nap in the grass under the warm sun, and the presence of a cool breeze a welcome relief from the heat, rather than a constant reminder of a never-ending winter.

Good night friends.  If I can't have warmth and sunshine this holiday weekend, I hope some finds you.

Food Friday: Eltana | Bagels

This morning, the unthinkable happened: Jon and I got out of bed and out the door at 7AM, a whole hour and a half before needing to be at work.  I know!  Shocking!  Granted, Jon had a quick follow-up doctor's appointment to go to, and it went much faster than we expected.  I was in the waiting room and didn't even have time to finish reading the People article on Pippa Middleton!  (Can I be her?)

With over an hour to spare before being at work, we were kind of like chickens with our heads cut off.  Should we go for a walk?  Get breakfast?  If so, where?  Oddfellows?  Glo's??  Having free time before work is unprecedented for us, especially at the end of the week, so we wanted to take full advantage.

Since we were in the area, we decided to go to wood-fired bagel joint, Eltana on 12th and Pine in Capitol Hill.  Jon had been before, once when I was out of town, and since he doesn't like a crap-ton of food in the morning (like me, the garbage disposal), it seemed like our best bet.  Plus, they were open.  (Damn you, Oddfellooooooows!)

OK, so Eltana does not have "cheap" bagels.  Well, the bagels are cheap ($1 each), but unless you want it plain you'll have to fork over an additional $2.50-$4 for cream cheese. But guys, c'mon, it's good cream cheese.

Worth it?  Yes.  I would say very much so.  My bagel (in the foreground) was a very fresh, everything bagel topped with date and walnut cream cheese.  Sweet and nutty and creamy—definitely a winner!  Jon's (background) was also an everything bagel, but his was garnished with spicy garlic cream.  Apparently he wants to smell at work all day.  (I tasted it, it was yummy, but not really how my ideal breakfast tastes.)  The only issue is that these are not big bagels, and even though taste-wise I think I got my money's worth, I will definitely need some more food in, say.... 10 minutes.  Next time, I'll order two.

So you might be thinking to yourself: Stacy, that's great—I'm glad you're a total food pig, but I don't live in Seattle so I don't care about the over-priced restaurants you go to.  Well, suck it up, peeps.  Over-priced food is Seattle's way, and as long as I live here I will be hunting down the best of it all and sharing my opinion with you.  Because if there's anything I'm great at in this world it's eating and giving my opinion.  Try it, it's fun.

There's something about Fridays that make me want to escape everything and just eat new foods and try new things with Jon.  The mornings are absolutely my favorite time, and they're wasted at work for 5 out of every 7 days!

All I know is I'd be a whole lot happier and more productive during the week if Friday was part of the weekend.  I might actually pick up a book for once!  Or take my dogs on an 8-mile walk!  Or, you know... sleep.

What would you do if you had one extra day of freedom a week?

Glue a Camera to My Hand

There is only one camera in my apartment; it's never out when I need it, and it also belongs to Jon.  This is excluding our cell phones, though I probably should include them considering my Samsung Fascinate is the only thing I ever use to take pictures.

Frog king, dog toy at work.

I've always thought I was a crappy photographer, but I think the problem is that I have the brain of an ancient caveman person; I don’t know how to work a contraption with so many damn buttons and photo options.  Plus, even though I consider myself to be very adept at setting up a shot and recognizing proper balance and proportion within the frame, I have a very difficult time noticing when something would look good photographed at all.  I simply don’t think about taking photos when I’m looking at every day objects, or places I pass every day, or when I'm spending time with friends.  (Or, for example, the boring stuff I see at work everyday—hence these photos.)

The camera that comes pre-installed on my phone is… well, it’s a camera.  It takes pictures that look totally normal—sometimes that’s good, other times the pictures are straight up ugly.  Mostly, they’re just boring.

View from my balcony at work.

My friends who have iPhones are lucky enough to be able to use the Hipstamatic camera.  (You know the one.  If you're anything like me, your Facebook feed is constantly inundated with artsy shots.)  It’s the only thing about the iPhone that I prefer over my Android (otherwise, there’s no question, the ‘droid is far superior)… 

That being said, no matter how much I adjust settings on my FXCamera or RetroCamera for Android, I always revert to taking Polaroids with them, which is the only semi-natural option.  Most of the choices are just too stylized—seriously, who needs a series of photographs that resemble a Warhol art show?—when all I really want is something to appropriately capture the things in my life… with a little bit of saturation or whimsy.  Nothing I’ve found looks as good as my friends’ Hipstamatic prints.

Thursday's food special, from Deli Espresso downstairs: Veggie Rice, also known as "crack".

That is, until now.  I finally discovered an app for Android that creates not only beautiful photographs, but also has enough options to give my simple-minded brain an aneurism.

Vignette Camera is my answer to not having a fancy Nikon or 8-inch lenses or an iPhone.  It has some crazy features like my previous camera apps, but it also has a lot of less brazen photo options as well, which means I can finally take a photo of my dog without him turning green, or having aged watermarks on his face.

Cody, the Giant Campus CCO (Chief Canine Officer) and his crab.

Since my phone is pretty much with me at all times, this means I need to start looking at the things around me a little differently.  It’s no longer a phone, but a camera glued to my hand.

Don’t worry; I have no intention of becoming a photographer or making this blog a place to showcase my ‘art’, such as it isn’t.  Hopefully this will simply make it easier for me to document the things going on in my life without having to constantly pull beautiful photos and prints from other people (though, I’m sure that will still happen), or hunt down my boyfriend's camera.

Me at my desk, where I definitely did not spend all day playing with my phone.

How about you guys?  What kind of camera do you own and use?  Or are you a slave to your iPhone/Android apps like I am?

Ryan Woodward and the Lines of the Body

 
If I could have any skill that I do not currently possess (and that's a lot of skills), it would be to draw like Ryan Woodward, or... someone just like him.

I've always been mildly obsessed with line and shade drawings that perfectly convey the shape of the subject while still maintaining a sense of imperfection, spontaneity, and "sketchiness".  Every time I go looking for art to buy or ask artist friends for sketches of things, this is what I imagine finding or receiving.  Every time I think about drawing anything (even though I know I can't), this is the style I imagine it being.

I like other types of art immensely, but nothing holds a candle to this.  Maybe it's because it looks so... easy!  But, as anyone who has two left hands (that's right—new phrase!) knows well, it isn't easy at all.

I came across Ryan's artwork last week—as did many of you!—when his work was featured on the Google homepage.

See the official version here on YouTube

I was intrigued.  Someone had posted a link to the artist, so I figured I'd click.  Turns out that Ryan is a storyboard artist who has worked on some pretty big name films.  I perused his work, much of which reflects a comic book-style, illustrative technique that is quite lovely.  This led me to his personal side project, Conté Animated—all absolutely stunning gesture drawings that really show off the shape of the human body.

And then I found this.

I don't remember doing anything in the last week that stands out more than finding this gorgeous animation and watching and re-watching it dozens of times.  It could be because he uses a song from a band that I completely adore (The Weepies), or that he's been able to animate something that I also wish I had the skill to do: contemporary dance.  But essentially, I think it's just that the story of the animation seems so heartbreaking and beautiful... I can't turn away, and I can't seem to stop pushing "replay".

This YouTube user nicely describes how I see this video:
cazboen: The story is about a boy who is madly in love with a girl. This girl was everything he ever wanted: mysterious, and almost like an angel (white outline and vivid shapes). He tried to capture her heart, and bring her "down to earth" but couldn't succeed. Until one day, he finally got her, and suddenly she wasn't all that he thought she was. Mysteriousness was gone (her outline turns black), there were no more sparks (watch their hands). In the end he left her, and the girl was heart broken.

There are many interpretations (as was Woodward's intention), but I think that this version is pretty spot on; it's exactly what I felt... what I continue to feel.  What could be more heartbreaking and more common than disappointment in love?  Seems to be a too-often occurrence, if you ask me (which, of course, you don't).

So, yeah.  I wanted to share this video and Ryan's work with you because it's beautiful, and everyone deserves a little beauty in their lives.

Happy sunny Friday, everyone.

Image: Ryan Woodward

Hawaiian Holiday: The Vintage Highlights

As usual, I left for Hawaiʻi with lofty goals of coming back and presenting you all with a grandiose, half dozen-part series about our trip.  Needless to say, I've been back over two weeks and not a word has been written or picture posted.

Shame, shame, shame.

I'm not sure what's made it so difficult to write; normally this type of thing is right up my alley.  I shouldn't have any problem posting some photographs and giving you a run-down of our trip from start to finish.  I mean hey, I even took notes along the way, you guys.  This is kid's stuff.

The only thing I can make of it is this: I left for our trip with the anticipation of it being the perfect excuse to bombard you with article after article of B.S. travel notes and amateur photos, but upon arriving home, I realized that it only had one purpose and one purpose alone: to let us forget ourselves for a while.

That being said, Jon and I have returned to the land of rain and clouds and cold after an absolutely lovely and relaxing vacation on the island of Kauaʻi.  And you know what?  We deserved it.  Our trip couldn't have come at a better time.  You see, the Pacific Northwest has been stricken with the longest winter and coldest April in recorded history.  The fewest days over 50ºF between the months of January and April ever.  Plus, the current forecast is making the remainder of May look very grim indeed.  Lucky us!

The combination of this cold and wet has made us very unhappy campers, and coming back from warmth and sunshine has turned out to be pretty demotivating.  So I figure it will be best to approach this recap by focusing on just a few highlights, with a very un-Stacy-like motto:

Keep it short. (That means one long post instead of six long ones—don't get your hopes up.)

That's Honolulu, Oʻahu—as seen from the top of Diamond Head.  Before going to Kauaʻi, we spent one afternoon/night on Waikīkī Beach; with so little time to do or see anything, we figured Hey! Why not go for a hike and earn our Mai Tais!  The trail leading up Diamond Head is not a long one—not even 1 mile to the top—but when you climb up a steep 74 steps only to go around the corner and come face-to-face with 99 more steps at a near vertical incline... well, you feel it.

I'd say the view was worth the leg pain.

Our first order of business when we started our first full day on Kauaʻi (and after recovering from hours of travel) was to drive along the west side of the island thru Waimea Canyon to reach the road's endpoint: Mt. Waiʻaleʻale, "the wettest spot on earth" —or so read the sign next to the lookout.


We'd considered ourselves fairly lucky during the first few lookout points along the road; no rain, only sunshine and vibrant colors.  Driving up to the lookout at Waiʻaleʻale, however, we were met with something  a little different.  Moisture and water literally hung in the air, and the moment we stepped up to the railing—struggling for a glimpse of the Nā Pali coast through the steam and fog—it started raining so hard and so heavy it may as well have been a warm shower.

Naturally, I had left my raincoat in the hotel room.

I have to take a moment to apologize for the picture of Waimea Canyon and how dreadfully plain it looks... because it is anything but.  The greens and reds and browns simply do not shine through in this photograph.  I was hesitant to even include it, but I felt some perspective was necessary.  To get your "pretty fix", go here for the real deal.

I am happy to say that I've found the most perfect beach on Kauaʻi.  It may not look like much, but trust me: it's absolutely ideal for a relaxing spot to swim and sunbathe. 

Kalihiwai Beach, which is located on the island's North Shore near Princeville, is idyllic Hawaiʻi.  I had been to this beach before with my family several years ago, but no one could remember what it was called, how to get there, or even how they'd originally found it.  Luckily, it only took a few dozen Google searches to narrow down my options.

This is not a popular beach with tourists, possibly because there is no snorkeling, but my guess is that most people just don't know it's there.  I can't imagine why; the turn-off to get to this beach is (not surprisingly) Kalihiwai Rd., the same road that leads you to the infamous Secret Beach.    Parking is ample, and the beach is secluded, quiet, and great for kids. (There's a river that meets the bay, which has rope swings hanging above it and boasts the perfect wading opportunities.)

Jon and I didn't do a lot of swimming (pool or ocean) while we were on vacation, but we easily spent an hour and a half riding the waves (I wish I'd had a boogie board!), people watching (an old woman whose bathing suit was a little too big flashed us probably a dozen times as the waves hit her), and basically goofing around like little kids in the water.  It's easy to swim out past the breaks and still feel the sand, but it can get a little intense when the big waves crash.  If you are learning to surf or aching to do some boogie boarding and don't want to feel crowded by other water-hungry folks, visit Kalihiwai Beach.

My favorite series of pictures from the trip.  This man had his handicrafts set up at Wailua Falls, a popular tourist spot.

I'd seen another man making the same baskets out of palm fronds at Waimea the day before, but no one was stopping to buy them.  Here, however, baskets and hats were getting snatched up left and right!  This crafter even fit one to a customer's head!  I imagine he makes a pretty solid income as a result of setting up shop at this location, since a lot of traffic comes through.

I was extremely impressed, and desperately wanted a bowl (apparently they'll last forever if you take care of them!)... but Jon seemed unenthused, so I left empty-handed.  Note to self: Carry your own damn cash.

Our one indulgence came in the form of a heavily discounted catamaran ride around the west side of the island to view the sunset along the Nā Pali coast from the ocean.  Captain Andy's is a well-established boat tour that I have actually done twice previous to this trip; I've been fortunate enough to take his 5.5 hour daytime snorkeling tour with my family in the past.  For the sunset cruise, prices average $112 per person... but with a discount through our hotel timeshare (my parents are owners at the Point at Poʻipū), we got to go for only $44 per person!!  That includes a full dinner buffet and many many many drinks (Sneaky Tikis!), along with a 4 hour tour.  Plus, two unanticipated humpback whale sightings—flukes in the air and all!

That's Nā Pali.  Worth every discounted penny.

Coming to the end of our trip—fat on fried foods and sweet booze—we thought the best way to end our trip was the same way we started it: hiking!  The Māhāʻulepū Heritage Trail, which leads to Māhāʻulepū Beach just east of our resort, is a decently strenuous 4-mile round-trip hike with some pretty spectacular views.

This is not a hike I would recommend for kids, especially if you have rambunctious ones.  The cliff faces are very steep.  We're talking 'certain death' steep.  Pretty much only if your kid can be strapped to a bag on your back (or they're experienced little hiking tykes) would I say bring them along.

The sand at the beach was so soft, and the stream we had to pass through brought some much-needed relief to our (okay, my!) aching feet.  Coming back was a little on the confusing side, because there are quite a few little paths that lead to the beach; we ended up taking a completely different (and much shorter) route back after getting lost and turned around a few times.

I would recommend this hike to anyone who loves a little bit of strain, but isn't sure they want to tackle something as intense as Nā Pali on their supposedly relaxing vacation.

Once again, we earned our Mai Tais.

And that was it!  That was our trip—in a very long, picture heavy, convoluted nutshell—minus a handful of less interesting deets (like how I almost missed the Royal Wedding because of jetlag, grrrr)!  It was worth every second and every dollar spent, but I was happy to get home to see Ennis and Peekay.  Fry, too, I guess... sort of.  (Ugh, cats.)

Now, the most important thing is that this post is finally over.  Thank the gods.

*All photos property of The Sleepy Peach

Food Friday: Hanalei Dolphin | Fish 'n' Chips

I'd been day-dreaming about these fish 'n' chips for years. My parents had taken us to the Hanalei Dolphin, which sits on the river on the north side of Kaua'i, back in the summer of 2006. I ordered the fish 'n' chips and remember them being the best I'd ever had.

For our trip last week, naturally, I had to return.

Were they still the best? Hm, maybe not the best, as my experience with fish 'n' chips is limited, but it was still nothing short of delicious. We're talking about a seriously large and thick cut of fish. This meal, some ice cold "adult" beverages, and a seat alongside the river was just the thing to sooth our souls before a several-hour romp in the warm ocean.