Dear Everyone: 

Life is good awesome. 

Love,

—Nate, Mae and Max

I took Max on a walk to the property next door today. We met an older woman near the shrimp pond, an employee of Kualoa Ranch who lives and works on that very property. 

We got into a half hour conversation about living here, how many pests and nuisances you find in all the places you least want. Rats in your closet, gigantic centipedes in your bed, cane spiders in your cupboards, and ants filling the void in between. 

“I was actually happy after my first centipede bite” she said. 

“I think I know what you mean.”

“Yeah, just getting it out of the way, knowing that I survived it once and I could survive it again. And I’ve survived it a few times since.”

My new outlook has been more or less in line with this. For the first few weeks I was petrified. How do people deal with the threat of so many terrible beasts? Then I realized how ridiculous I was being. The most dangerous thing here is a centipede that can really ruin a day or two. In far less impressive places, people contend with rattlesnakes, scorpions, grizzly bears, bobcats, cougars, coyotes, mosquitoes bearing malaria - all of which can do far worse. 

The only inconvenience about living here is the extreme force of nature in the form of pests that never suffer a winter’s freeze (and so they grow, and grow and grow). But then I look at pictures like the ones above and realize that’s a fairly minuscule price to pay for such a large reward.

A few months ago, I’d take Maxwell for midday walks. We’d bundle up with layers of clothing and boots for a mile and a half of parking lots and sidewalks - all lovingly peppered with McDonald’s bags, cigarette butts, stepped on gum, hocked loogies. Today, we threw on some flip flops and took a walk over the stream, between the ponds, through the tree tunnel, to the pacific ocean. 

Dear Family: Life ain’t bad…

Our house arrived today! At least what we shipped from Detroit. Items of key importance include our dinner table (we’ve been eating off a beach towels on the floor for the past week), my desk (I haven’t been able to work at all from the house), and my coffee press. 

There’s also the 1,000 important things we couldn’t buy new, like the great gifts we got for our wedding, photos of you all, keepsakes, etc. These are the things we can’t replace, and as much as I don’t like being materialistic, these are the things that make a house our home. 

I’ve got a photo of Grandpa Tony on our mantle, framed photos of Henry, my 29 year old teddy bear on our bed (which Mae regards as a dusty germ-bag, as he hasn’t been washed since 1987), and photos of us as a couple that we need to put up. 

It’s sinking in more and more that this is our new reality. This is where we live.