Due to every day being “Mission Impossible” I am exploded, I mean exhausted. Yup, Mission Impossible with parts of me going all odd or bursting into flame: “You will self destruct in 4, 3, 2, 1…” I pass out. That’s what A.A.N. is, an idiot of an autoimmune system hitting my self destruct button several times a day. So, after doing another three impossible things yesterday, and a couple the day before, apparently, it turns out (shhhhhh! BIG SECRET COMING!) I am (whisper..) mortal. So yes, that means my head flops over like an omelet going bad and I have days where the 100,000 little muchkins eating my nerves (which really hurts, REALLY), gets me down...on the ground...in a small puddle of my saliva. So more pictures than words today! Back to anime hair day!
Yes, hair cut with oxygen,
please do not smoke during this…or use my head as an ashtray (really that last one goes for anytime, not just haircuts).
Ta da, the new me! Or so the salon would like to have me believe. 
It is a well known salon secret that this is the LAST time you will ever see your hair that good. This is due to various spells, potions and magnetized ions that all hair salons have. Once exposed to the harsh reality called “Earth”, you can kiss this look goodbye (unless you are a model or are getting married, or like to use enough hairspray to lightly coat the inside of your lungs). Notice the eyebrows – not red!
Now I am waiting for ‘threading’, the most painful word outside of ‘bikini wax’ and ‘high heels mandatory’. I am practicing ‘cleavage’.
Just in case I need to distract someone for a moment while I bop them over the head just like one of the little field mice (bad little rabbit fufu!).
This is ‘threading’ from India where basically you take two twines of strong wax string and counter twirl them at speeds so they sound like a band saw cutting logs in half. Then they approach your face and do just that 
(only the ‘logs’ are eyebrow hair being ripped out by the roots at several dozen per second). It is one of the few times when I am actually whispering, “Go Go Gadget: peripheral neuropathy!”
Here is the post salon look, BUT I have nicely shaped eyebrows.
Odd that while my hair falls out in bunches my eyebrows are thriving. I put it down to the fact that it might have to do with blood flow and blood to the eyes is considered important (by me, and my body thankfully).
Okay, arrived at park, I have the purple and red feather earrings and with the wind whipping, I have ‘Mt Fuji’ brow 
(this is a Japanese insult to women who had foreheads larger than about two inches I think). See, and you thought manga was useless – but now I can insult other women using five different cultures though ‘If ya going to run wi da boyas then ya can’t drink the sherbert’ might not be useful not that I have left a very particular valley in Wales (“Ack, my head is like a zoo on fire!”).
Here is Cheryl bonding with nature and with one of the Parks’ large trees.
It is a very popular tree and seems to thrive despite being climbed all over day in and day out for several generations.
Douglas fir grows to over 200 feet, and since we are in the older part of town there are still a few trees like that around.
The one house I was in, a heritage one, had Douglas Fir beams under the floors which ran the length of the house (50 feet?) and were 16 inches by four inches. The thought of the cost of that under - flooring is sort of staggering (which is why Japan buys all the temple beams from B.C., but they just take the WHOLE tree back to Japan).
And thus ends my tour of ‘Beths’ Big Hair Day’ with Cheryl and I looking into the bright shining future of Sakura-Con.
Where all manga, binsen, doujinshi, and other delights await (oh yeah, and the demonstrations, and fashion shows, and masque balls and cos-play balls).
Ah, the toilet. We had chosen a room which had a Japanese toilet. The manager called the day before and even tried to talk Cheryl out of it, dancing around the wheelchair issue. I motioned for the phone.
“Hi!” I said cheerful, “This is the cripple!”
Silence
“Um…is there a problem?” I asked.
They wanted me to take the ADA room, but I explained that we had a friend who had not yet experienced the um….pleasures…of a Japanese toilet.
She really wanted me in the ADA room and I convinced her that I really wanted a toilet that looks like it has a button for ‘Eject’. She did give me a nice shower bench though.
Well, part of being disabled is being disabled all through the body and after an airplane flight and a few days of busy, I was constipated. Cheryl had earlier tried one of the two jets (one anal, one for the front – why or how guys use this, I don’t know – and no, there is no blower) and found that dripping wet, whether the water was warm or not wasn’t the greatest. Also, the toilet has a downslope like it is trying to slide you off, which is consistent with those used to using slit trench toilets. So here it goes.
I was on the toilet (toilet water jets can be turned from hot to very cold – same with toilet seat warmth). I had, after reading a bit of manga relaxed enough and done some rocking, relaxed enough to have my first major movement. I said something like, “Yes, the gate is open!” to Linda to let her know I would soon come to the nap. “The gate” is our slang for the constipation. Just as I said that, being weak I slipped over and somehow some part of me hit the anal water jet button. So my recently opened and relaxed anus was abruptly hit (and entered) with cold and forceful stream of water. It was so sudden that I had a screech going into hysterical laughter (I mean, I never used ANY of the buttons in case something like this happen). It was crazy, it was just the thing that happened to me. I waited for it to finish, laughing. It didn’t, it just kept going. And as Cheryl said later, “Oh, I had turned the pressure volume on that jet up a lot this morning!” (Why, Cheryl, oh WHY?). So between the laughing and looking down at this inescapable cold jet I was saying to Linda, ‘It won’t stop, it won’t stop.” And then I looked over and there was a GIANT red button under which read “Stop.” Linda came in just as I pushed the button and the assault upon my rear brigade ended.
“Um,” I said, biting my lip in embarrassment, “It stopped.”
“Good,” She said, “How did you get it to do that?”
“I pushed Stop?” She was laughing by this time, because I guess I looked so bedraggled and was mutter, “It just kept violating me!”
Later Cheryl was reading the attractions of the hotel spa and the ‘purifying colonic’ was one at quite a cost.
“Been there, done that!” I told her.
And I’m actually lucky, we have the ‘simple’ model of the Japanese Toilet. The one at the Ghibli Museum probably would have had me in the air like one of the cartoons.
Today we flew to the big island,
so it was returning rentals, getting to the airport, and going through security. Here is Dee, who checked me, and swabbed my hands to make sure I was not going to blow up the plane.
I took her picture because I wanted people in the UK and Canada to see that YES, there are US security agents who do NOT have guns. Most do, but these ones don’t. Dee was nice.
The trip was below high altitude and sort of an aerial tour of the islands, reefs, and deep blues of the coasts of the Hawaiian island chain.
Very beautiful, and realized I simply did not have enough time.
We arrived to find a cruise ship had taken all the rentals so we hung at the airport. After getting the van, I was beat, just totally beat and lost track of a big chunk of time. They stopped the van for some reason, probably the not breathing one. Turns out I am not AB, and going full tilt like I am isn’t a long term solution.
We arrived at the accommodation I had found, down a lava road (and I thought dirt roads were bad!),
rated #2 out of all rentals in this area. We have over an acre and a half, and due to it being off season, and my finding a site which did a further discount, even lower than from the owner, we ended up with this lush topical estate 
and a three bedroom house with washer/dryer for $45 per person, per night. As opposed to $3,000 for a weeks stay at most places.
Inside was decorated in Asian style with lacquer and a full kitchen,
towels for the beaches, a roll in shower, and full hardwood floors along with a BBQ and a deck with seating for breakfast. Here are Linda and Cheryl, as Linda plays with a rain stick left for us 
(And with Hilo, rain does come!).
Nothing like having a home cooked meal while watching the sunset over your lush tropical home. I had found a base, and after almost 4 hours of sleep,
I was ready to plan for tomorrow. I hope to see the valley of the Kings, but it depends, like so much, on the weather. I’ll let you know then.
Sometimes before we can reach the sublime (surfer, famous beach, warm waters, sunset). 
We must suffer through the perils! 
Yes, that is me, tongue stuck out and on oxygen. Me not like little metal bird! Want off!
Here I have just cleared customs and my hands and feet have been swabbed to make sure they are not explosive (and they kept trying to make me take the concentrator apart and I kept going, "It IS a concentrator!") 
(hey, I tell you what they tell me. I didn’t mention the episode of McGuiver where he turned a titanium bike into a bomb and I have titanium wheelchair!).
After asking about getting a refund for an attendant seat, we were all three moved to bulkhead. We asked if we could have a seat for the medical equipment. But they just told us to go to the gate. We arrived at the gate 5 minutes before boarding, and was told to wait, then someone else came and told me that I was 12 minutes late and thus must wait until the end. And that because I had oxygen we did not have bulkhead seats but the row behind. Here were are in the second row. Bulkhead people had an extra seat, the row next to us had an extra seat. But us and our friends like an oxygen concentrator and ice break packs, we are all still smiling for some reason. 
No word yet on the free seat yet, odd that.
We drove to the lookout before going to the Japanese Temple. This was our first OFFICIAL Hawaii tourist act. Cheryl gives it a TA-DA! 
(though my navigation we got a wee lost and arrived at the temple gates a few minutes too late to even take pictures of it – grrrr!).
Linda had said on the plane that “I would like a Mai Tai on Waikiki Beach” – well, what Linda wants, she gets, so back to town we came, ahead of sunset and we wheeled down to the beach. Noting along the way that when it comes to tourist spots, the saying is true: Build it and they will come! 
I found the beach, and before Linda and Cheryl could stop me I found the sand, indeed I was so far out I was almost stuck when they caught up to me. 
But here we are, at Waikiki Beach at sunset, now how Hawaii is that? 
After a shoulder roll out of my chair and a bit of flopping about, I got us the, ‘oh so sweet honeymoon’ picture of Linda and I, thanks to Cheryl’s photography. 
In fact her camera came out with this beauty, even at the dusk of post sunset, which is probably one of the screensavers I will use. 
Ahh...the memories...which I won’t have by then.
Of all of us, only Cheryl actually went into the water, and said it was “Warm” so I would want to try it, I think. 
However, the waves and amount of people going by her to surf indicates this may not be the best beach for ME to try. 
I bet you think I forgot about the “Mai Tai on the beach” – no not I! We went over to CheeseBurger in Paradise (which Cheryl assured us was a famous song) and got ourselves…a cheeseburger and a Mai Tai.
The food was really good, and really filling, but the humidity of the place didn’t exactly decrease the humidity outside. Still we enjoyed the food and the location and if Linda wants it, Linda gets it – “Mai Tai, on the beach in Waikiki.”
As I wheeled out of the restaurant, the die hard surfers were heading home. This woman, changed from wet suit, had a rig hooked up to her bicycle to hold her surfboard,
as she came down probably nightly and on weekends. When even the die-hard surfers come in, it is time to go.
So under the full moon we wheeled home, 
exhausted, but already planning a new day, one that involved the terror the ancient Hawaiians could never have thought of….yes, San-X, otherwise known as HELLO KITTY! But that is for tomorrow.
The last few days have been rather hectic with the packing. We are preparing to take off, to transform into our relaxed selves.
Yeah. Right. That's is what packing does....relax you. NOT! Last night it was ‘what corsets do I take’ along with trying on different tops, skirts, and jungle/mountain top wear. This looks about right for the jungle maiden right?
Because I am not taking a sword or spear! Also, should I take my wings, or pick up a pair of white wings special just for this trip? Since I have a nice white dress to wear (originally I was going to put blood on it, it is very bridal, very fu-fu!). Will this impress the people of Hawaii, will I become a legend in later guidebooks? 
Do I spend too much time picking out my wardrobe? Or even more fantasizing how it will look? YES. (But I did get picked up two days ago, and got a marriage proposal this week - from a dude, and he was LEGAL age too! And I don't think he gets a senior discount yet.)
Cheryl has told me that she is going to Hawaii now to FIND POCKY! Not just any pocky but a very specific flavor she has heard exists in Hawaii called The Brazilian. Cheryl loves her pocky. 
I am tempted, in a younger sister kind of feeling, to tell her I know where it is and direct her to a beauty shop where leg and other waxing occurs. Then, as the GOOD younger sister I am, tell Cheryl to tell them that she wants The Brazilian and can she have it right now! That’s something a younger sister would do, right? Something which might get me bopped but would be SOOOOOOO worth it!
As for me, I am practicing my phrase, “I don’t know how that happened?”, “I didn’t see the warning?”, “Was there a sign, I didn’t see it?” These are all very useful when you are planning to maximize your good time by ignoring every warning and trying to play the crip card to gain access before pushing every button in sight. Like here, I don’t know where the water came from, “I don’t know how that happened”. 
So getting ready for Hawaii.
I am burning a new mix, a Hawaii mix including some Within Temptation, which I will make a nice movie of when I get back. That way Linda and I can listen while on the plane. 
Um, Cheryl has an IPOD which holds like a billion songs, she can fend for herself. I have only 130 songs on my MP3 player!
I am also, have already created labels for postcards once we FIND postcards to post. And assuming we find a postal box in the jungle regions to post them in.
But I live in hope, we may even pack a few stamps and a color or two for the evenings. You never know. But yes, three pages of addresses (see, no week without!).
What frustrates me is that I do not have a bikini! I want a bikini, all the anime characters have a bikini, why do I have an old one piece from years ago? 
Okay, maybe I am a bit long in the body but that would be perfect for…a bikini! I live in hope that we can, in our time in Seattle drop by Victoria Secret and see if they have a Bikini for me, and while we are there, we can of course just see what type of bra and panty sets are available, get all three of us in a room – come on, we are lesbians on vacation! 
I just realized, this is like some hetero male fantasy. Back to the important stuff: ME - Actually, I would be okay if I got a NEW and cool one piece like this one (I do have the kitty ears for the beach!). And the words on the swimsuit are ME, “Only forward”
– that is not just a person ideology, but a demand from ME to my BOOBS! C cup here we come!
Hawaii is all about beaches, beaches and breasts. We have lotion, we have sandals, we have brushes for getting sand out of odd places.
I was going through what Linda had packed throwing out vibrators, throwing in vibrators, holding harnesses up to the light with my head cocked to the side (hmmm, is she thinking for me or her?). I was putting in more vibrators. “We need more batteries, many, many more batteries.” I told Linda, “Just in case….for the…um…..MP3 player.” See, I am a total innocent. Linda is the horny one. 
The last part of this post is a game I have wanted to play for a long time, which is the “Name Game” which is fun to play in the UK with pubs, and fun to play in the US with diners. So this name game is open to eateries and pubs of all kinds. What are the three strangest named places you have eaten, or just a strange restaurant where you have eaten? 
For example, before it became popular I ate at a restaurant in the mountains of Malibu, in a windmill, with no electricity where the food, vegan, was made while priests chanted over it. It was called Inn of the Seventh Ray! It was, due to only having one little candle hard to tell if you got your order or not, was this the ‘eggplant of plenty’ or the ‘tomato and squash unification’? In the UK I drank at the Heath, and some places with long Welsh names which escape my spelling now. Also the Slug and Lettuce and the Sprocket. Over here, the place we used to go on road trips in the US was, no kidding, a Diner chain called, Little Black Sambo’s. Now, no longer in business. Odd that (maybe the openly racist menu had some part in that). Then I went regularly to Don Quixote, which had a Don Quixote in armor at the front. The Diner here in town is Pluto’s (the planet, ex-planet, not the Dog of Disney fame).
They have malt shakes!
See, this is the restaurant which I run with Linda (and Cheryl), here is me feeding Linda her favorite food, Strawberries! Yum.
Maybe that will be the name of the Diner, ‘Yum’, or 'Yum: where flirting and groping by your servers with each other is likely'.
So there you have it. Please tell me the names, and the stories: whether it is some fancy restaurant
with a name which translates to ‘Best snails and bull testicles here!’ or some local diner that is called Mom’s but actually you can only order IF you bring a mother. I want to know! Because I am already a little crazy from all the packing (like you may not have noticed) and need something light to cheer us all up. So please, what are some odd named places you have eaten? What is your diner story? And yes, I too learned at a fancy restaurant that those things which LOOK like onion rings but are chewy, are NOT onion rings but octopus related I think.
please do not smoke during this…or use my head as an ashtray (really that last one goes for anytime, not just haircuts).
It is a well known salon secret that this is the LAST time you will ever see your hair that good. This is due to various spells, potions and magnetized ions that all hair salons have. Once exposed to the harsh reality called “Earth”, you can kiss this look goodbye (unless you are a model or are getting married, or like to use enough hairspray to lightly coat the inside of your lungs). Notice the eyebrows – not red!
Just in case I need to distract someone for a moment while I bop them over the head just like one of the little field mice (bad little rabbit fufu!).
(only the ‘logs’ are eyebrow hair being ripped out by the roots at several dozen per second). It is one of the few times when I am actually whispering, “Go Go Gadget: peripheral neuropathy!”
Odd that while my hair falls out in bunches my eyebrows are thriving. I put it down to the fact that it might have to do with blood flow and blood to the eyes is considered important (by me, and my body thankfully).
(this is a Japanese insult to women who had foreheads larger than about two inches I think). See, and you thought manga was useless – but now I can insult other women using five different cultures though ‘If ya going to run wi da boyas then ya can’t drink the sherbert’ might not be useful not that I have left a very particular valley in Wales (“Ack, my head is like a zoo on fire!”).
It is a very popular tree and seems to thrive despite being climbed all over day in and day out for several generations.
The one house I was in, a heritage one, had Douglas Fir beams under the floors which ran the length of the house (50 feet?) and were 16 inches by four inches. The thought of the cost of that under - flooring is sort of staggering (which is why Japan buys all the temple beams from B.C., but they just take the WHOLE tree back to Japan).
Where all manga, binsen, doujinshi, and other delights await (oh yeah, and the demonstrations, and fashion shows, and masque balls and cos-play balls).
