It’s been several months since our trip to Hawaii. It seems like a lifetime ago with all the not-so-fun stuff that’s happened since then. I almost didn’t write a post tonight because my brain is void of original ideas. I almost gave into the blues, but I decided I couldn’t let the bumps in life get to me.
Since I live in the desert, the ocean is a mesmerizing novelty to me. I’m fascinated by all things water. (Hey, when rainfall is measured in one hundredths of an inch, water is seen as a gift.) We went for a walk along an ocean-front path and I played the part of obvious tourist. I mean, what local would take pictures of surfboards or oceanfront umbrellas?
There is one thing from Hawaii I miss the most. (The title of this post gives it away.) Mangoes. Yes, mangoes. Since we got back to Arizona from Hawaii, I’ve purchased at least twenty mangoes trying to duplicate the juicy, flavorful ones I bought in Hawaii. Only two of them tasted pretty good, and those were nowhere close to the ones I ate on vacation. The Hawaiian mangoes were so good; I contemplated hiding them on my person and praying I got through agricultural inspection. (The fact I would consider smuggling mangoes could also be a sign of other psychological issues, but I won’t go into that here :))