What Was She Thinking?

I deeply love my wife, but sometimes I wonder, "What was she thinking?"

Take today, for example. She scheduled us for 9:00 a.m. surfing lessons.

9:00 in the morning.

On New Year's Day.

The morning after a New Year's Eve beach luau.

With an open bar.

What was she thinking?

I didn't have to worry about driving home, or amateur drunks on the road. It was just a short stumble to the room. What could go wrong?

I'll tell you what.

Surfing lessons at 9:00 a. friggin' m.

(Well, there was an unfortunate incident at the luau involving a young lady in a grass skirt and a tiki torch, but that could have happened to anyone. Fortunately, we were near the pool. But that's a story for another day. The key point here is 9:00 a. friggin' m.)

After the surfing lessons we were allowed to have lunch, and then it was off to the other end of the island for an afternoon of snorkeling.

I was dyin' out there.

My wife is one of those people who believe that a vacation is not a success unless some activity is crammed into every spare minue. The concept of downtime is foreign to her.

In spite of that character flaw I love her ... most of the time.

But I wasn't so sure this morning.

The worst thing about it was that it prevented me from making any progress tracking down obama's birth certificate. Maybe tomorrow.

No, wait. Tomorrow we are supposed to hike Waimea Canyon, the Grand Canyon of the Pacific.

What was she thinking?