It's complicated...

So I was tossing my husband's stinky socks into the washer reflecting on what to tell all of you about my trip to Hawaii. It was good, it really was! But sometimes, I feel like good is to general an answer. I think it's complicated might be more accurate. Do you ever say what you really mean? Do you ever tell people how you truly are? Was my trip perfect? Does it live up to what you imagine? Probably not but I guess that depends on your imagination.

But can I really tell you, the unsuspecting blog reader, who simply wants to live their own lives and dream of their own sunny, blue, sand-themed vacation the actual, nitty-gritty truth? It's much simpler to say that it was good. If I say, it was complicated, one would naturally assume that it was bad. But it wasn't. It really was complicated. I would them be forced to mention that instead of many sand-filled, sunny days that we only had one and a whole 24 hours was spent by my partner for whom I desired romantic time with building a chicken coop. Chicken coop does not spell romance by any stretch of the imagination. Maybe for some? I could mention the family friend who took a day off work to spend time with us after already spending the weekend... That was nice except when you want to be two not three and you didn't ask the friend to take time off! Now I worry that you think I am complaining. I'm not, really. It's Hawaii for goodness sake. It's beautiful! We discovered a gorgeous beach and hiked to a magnificent waterfall.

It's like when you see someone and they ask how you are and you answer in the standard, "Good" or "fine." But really, you have a hang nail that is bothering the heck out of you or you're sad because you daughter told you a huge lie or you have been dealing with circumstances beyond your control for years and sometimes you feel sad or your husband would decided to build a chicken coop instead of sitting in the hot tub. But see, I would normally never tell you this. I would simply say that my Hawaii trip was good and all that it should be and we would move on. I wonder what is better? But never fear, to paraphrase Jane Austen: "The feeling will pass and most likely quicker than it should." But in case it doesn't, consider yourself warned, if you pass me in the hall at church and ask me how I am, you might get more than you bargained. I might feel inclined to start a long diatribe on how irritated I am by all the silly romantic ninny's who think they can write books about becoming Jane Austen or finding their Mr. Darcy! Argh!