We recently bought a new digital camera. Our old one was beginning to throw large fits, turning itself on and off at will, and refusing to comply with simple requests such as "upload to computer" and "focus." I briefly mourned the loss of the old camera, remembering all the memories it had captured. Then, with a shout of glee, began playing with my new toy, which I bought on sale at Target. My favorite part of the new camera is the zoom function. With the press of a button, it can hone in on details and capture perspectives that the naked eye cannot.

I have taken score of photos of leaves, raindrops, and my children's faces, just to test the limits of the most hallowed zoom. The excitement about the zoom function was starting to wear off until I started writing out my work outs for the week. 

Mike and I and the kids are in Hawaii taking a much needed vacation and collective deep breath. Mike's parents were kind enough to gift us their timeshare and Alaska Airlines' frequent flyer miles came through with the travel expense. We have no agenda here. Nothing major to accomplish. Nowhere we have to be. We're on day two of this vacation to paradise and I'm already settling in. It usually takes me at least three days to relax into vacation mode, three days to get over my addiction to checking e-mail, calendars and school newsletters.

Last night, our first night here, my family and I took a sunset walk through the golf course to the cliffs overlooking the glittering, aquamarine Pacific Ocean. We marveled at the sea, at how each wave had its own unique personality, its own way of slamming into the black lava rocks on the shore. We talked excitedly about the volcano on the island, how it's lava was forming new land everyday. We climbed on the lava rocks and explored as much of the terrain as we could without the clarity of daylight. As it grew darker, an incredible desire to run around the golf course took us over. We began sprinting and doing cartwheels all over the green. Somewhere, the groundskeeper was shuddering as my not so perfect round offs imprinted the shape of my bare feet and buttocks into the grass.