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Guess where we are.
Hawaii. The Kona Coast to be exact.
My husband and I narrowly escaped the polar vortex and are in the magical land of Hawaii to recharge, decompress, and celebrate The Chairman’s birthday a little early.
Flying from Oregon to Hawaii only takes about five hours. It took me even less time than that to adapt to island time. I’ve morphed into the tropical version of my former self and may never come home. I now wear flowers in my hair, sleep without setting the alarm cock, enjoy drinks that come in coconuts, and mostly don cabana-wear throughout the day. continue reading