Fixing To, In Paradise

A real surfer keeps stacks of surfboards stuffed under his house. That's what I discovered when we stayed in a backyard studio apartment owned by Surfer Guy and his wife. They live on Oahu's north shore, one block from Rocky Point Beach in a house wedged on a tiny patch of ground. It's guarded by a Jack Russell and comes with a five-foot wide right-of-way to a deserted strip of sandy beach owned by a striped, calico cat. The only fly in their patch of paradise would be their neighbor Grumpy Old Guy. He sits on his carport and screams at cars to slow down. He screamed his island greeting at our rental car, a Chevy, as it turned onto the street between the two houses. Big Guy tried to return the greeting, luckily the car windows were up. As we pulled up to our rental, Surfer Guy met us at the door. He was fixing to replace a clothes dryer. "Fxing to" in that it took four days for the new dryer to move out of the yard and into the basement. In Hawaii, "fixing to" is contagious. We awoke the first morning "fixing to" see the sunrise on the beach, but settled for seeing it from our front porch. Birdie kept "fixing to" do her summer homework. Daisy kept "fixing to" stay up really late at night. I kept "fixing to" make some phone calls and Big Guy kept "fixing to" peel the Chevy around the corner really fast. But there's no way to rush in Hawaii. Birdie set aside her homework. Daisy gave up on turning us into night people. I let my phone die. Grumpy Old Guy wasn't on the carport when Big Guy thought about gunning it. After five nights, we checked out of our studio to head toward Honolulu, I got the point of Grumpy Old Guy's island greeting. Get the dryer installed, you'll do laundry. Drive too fast, you'll won't get anywhere faster. You'll simply be stuck that much quicker behind someone driving slow, probably Grumpy Old Guy savoring one more day in paradise.