I remembered that the last time we were here, someone mentioned that weather could be quite localized; if it were raining in one place, often a few miles down the road there would be sun.
I whipped out my laptop and Googled the weather. A satellite image popped up and sure enough, only a few spots on the island were getting rain. We considered our options: stay here, read, and probably get increasingly on each others' nerves, or head out in search of brighter skies. "And rainbows!" I chirp, probably annoyingly. We packed a snack and headed out.
About three miles down the road, the rain stopped and the sun came out. In fact, by the time we made it down to Makena Beach, about an hour down the road, it looked like this:
I hadn't been overly optimistic about hitting ninety-three degrees and blazing sun, so had dressed in white jeans and a long sleeve top, making me look like a crazy person walking down the beach. Even worse, as I walked along the surf, an extra-strong wave came along, soaking me to the hips. I tried evasive tactics and ended up falling down the sand dune I tried to climb to get away from the next rush of surf. If you've ever had to wear wet jeans you will know how terrible this feels -- now, add abut a cup of ultra-fine sand and rub it in well to every possible surface so you feel like human sandpaper.
Hubby complained I was grumpy, an accurate description, if not one to mollify me in any way. Like, not at all. "You'll dry off soon", he mumbled encouragingly, and then had one of his fantastic ideas. "You'll dry off even faster if we have the top down!"
Great. Gritty, grumpy, and damp, I'm now about to get jet-dried courtesy of our Mustang convertible rental. On our way back to the hotel, I do spot a rainbow, and I do dry off. And tomorrow -- well, it's another day.
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