• Ordinary people. Extraordinary romance.

    Ordinary people. Extraordinary romance.

The Road to Hawaii, or how we sold (almost) everything, quit our jobs and moved to Oahu, as told by one family who is experiencing it.

So, last Friday, while packing, cleaning, mailing and signing papers to rid ourselves of Michigan (in a nice way), we picked up the mail.  Aaron and Holli had applied for a credit card to help them rent a car, etc.  It arrived Friday.  Problem – they were on a plane headed toward Honolulu.

We trekked to the nearest FedEx office and paid way too much money to have the card overnighted to a Honolulu FedEx office.  Saturday delivery guaranteed.  Guess what?  They mishandled the shipment and it won’t be there until today, Monday.  Meanwhile, Aaron and Holli’s attempts to find an apartment and/or job are hindered while they’re shackled to a bus schedule.

Way to (not) go, FedEx!

In unrelated news, Luke and I are in Colorado, making good time.  We all have new phone numbers with the coveted 808 Hawaii area code.  Major fights have been avoided, but there have been a few skirmishes.  The concept of “free wi-fi” is a loose one.  Stay hydrated.

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The Road to Hawaii, or how we sold (almost) everything, quit our jobs and moved to Oahu, as told by one family who is experiencing it.

We drive through more flat farmland, the corn brown, its leaves curled in protective cones.  Corn should not be this brown, not in August, but the drought has taken its toll.  The further west we go, the more burned the landscape.

We cross the Indiana, Mississippi and Kansas Rivers, the water low.  Creeks and smaller rivers are dry.  We stop at Hannibal, MO, boyhood home of Mark Twain.  It’s a sleepy town, caught in time, the edges sharpened a little by commercialism.  Benches line the sidewalks, which are cobblestone in places.  We stand on the shores of the Mississippi to say we have, then climb in the car and hit the road to Hawaii again.

 

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The Road to Hawaii, or how we sold (almost) everything, quit our jobs and moved to Oahu, as told by one family who is experiencing it.

Awake at 4:30, too keyed up to sleep.  After an early breakfast at Denny’s, we finished packing, purging and planning.  One last trip to Goodwill and two to the post office.  I think there are 3-4 boxes left.  The car is groaning with the detritus of our Michigan life.  I’ll have to purge more before we board our flight to Honolulu in ten days.

Dozens of forms later, we are officially homeless.  It takes another two hours before the buyers finish their paperwork, then we pick up our check, only to discover their title company has included the realtor’s check in the same envelope!  We backtrack from the credit union to our title company and deliver their part of the sale.

8-10-12 @ 3:39 p.m. our new life begins.

It rains all the way to the Michigan-Indiana border.  Our GPS, “Maggie” is a little outdated, so we’re on the toll road for a mile, scrambling for sixty cents, our wallets empty of coins (except Canadian) because we went to the laundromat the night before and dumped the rest of our change at CoinStar.

South of Chicago on I-55, the land is flat, we can see for miles, little towns in the distance beckoning travelers.  We pass a windfarm that goes on for miles, hundreds of blades turning lazily from the evening breeze, their movement hypnotic.  Further down the road, gentle hills rise, and we catch sight of more blades dotting the horizon.

We stop for the night in McLaren, north of Springfield, home of Lincoln.  Tonight we sleep in Kansas.

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