So I haven’t posted a post for a while and no, it’s not because I’ve been lazy. I’ve been on vacation! In Hawaii! Seven glorious days and nights on the beautiful isle of Kauai. Ocean, mountains, waterfalls, sand, palm trees, bougainvillea, bird of paradise, seals and chickens.

Chickens, you say? Yes, chickens. Chickens, chickens everywhere! Now I love chickens― especially grilled and nestling on a bed of noodles and alfredo sauce― and they are kinda cute pecking the ground and walking around all chicken-like but don’t be fooled by their colorful beauty because beneath those innocuous feathers lurks mocking, arrogant evil. You heard me, evil!

I learned this soul-crushing truth the very first night I spent on the Garden Island. Blissfully tired from my day of swimming in the ocean, and getting up close and personal with a monk seal sunning him/herself on the beach who was so still and quiet, I first thought it was dead, and eating pineapple, and drinking guava juice, and buying local trinkets at the Spouting Horn blow hole, and joyously absorbing the calm and peaceful vibe that is Hawaii, I snuggled in my bed with barely contained excitement at what the next day would bring. The trade winds blew through the open windows as I caught a glimpse of the starlit night. The sights and sounds of the day meandered across my sleepy mind and I drifted off to sleep with visions of sun and surf.

What the F-*&^%$#@ was that?! I cried as I bolted upright in bed. I gazed at the clock all bleary-eyed. 1:00 AM. In the morning, or the middle of the night, or I’m-not-a-spring-chicken-anymore-and-I-need-my-beauty-sleep. The spring chicken analogy turned out to be prophetic for the horrid sound that awoke me from my slumber in paradise was . . . a chicken! Or to be more precise, a male chicken, otherwise known as a rooster, cock-a-doodle doodling and not just one but a whole Hell’s Choir of roosters!

I fell back onto my feather pillows and tried to make sense of this strange phenomenon. Roosters crow at dawn, right? They finally stopped and I figured it was just a weird anomaly. But then at 2:00AM, they started up again. And 3 and 4 and 5 and when the sun finally peeked up over the horizon, every rooster on the island was crowing as if The Dark One himself had made an appearance.

My dried up eyes stared unseeing at the ceiling. How could this be? Paradise is supposed to be, well, paradise. Not a cackling, rooster-infested nightmare. As I contemplated Googling a recipe for rooster stew, it dawned on me that Eden did have that pesky serpent to mess things up.

I dragged myself out of bed and managed to spend the rest of my week kayaking, and hiking, and swimming, and sightseeing, and shopping, and eating, and lo and behold, after a while, I didn’t even hear those demon roosters trying to ruin my Zen-like tranquility.

I’m back home now trying to acclimate myself again to the flat, oceanless, beachless, waterfall-less, palm tree-less vista outside my window. I guess it’s nice to be back. You’re supposed to say that when your vacation ends and you’re back to the normal humdrum of daily life but dang, I sure do miss those roosters . . .


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