Run DMZ

  "Aloha" might be the most recognizable Hawaiian term, but on Maui, "Mahalo" is a close second. It lacks linguistic flexibility, meaning just one thing: Thank you. However, it is quite pliable in conveying a desired tone.  Come enjoy authentic Hawaiian shave ice. Mahalo.   Yes, our lines are long. Please be patient. Mahalo.  The restaurant kitchen's closing early tonight. Mahalo.  Our $1.50 (each) kiwi fruit are better. Mahalo.  Do not move the mat concealing a heating element inside your unit's oven or you may destroy the appliance. Mahalo! I can think of no better word that reflects the four days recently spent exploring a paradise always on alert for potential disasters.  Which pretty much sums up our trip, too.  Mahalo for those quiet, pre-dawn mornings I spent sipping hot tea on our balcony and watching locals setting up for another busy (hopefully profitable) day while pale-skinned tourists ran, walked, and cycled along S. Kihei R...

Whether you're still sleeping or been up for hours, everything feels doable at 6 in the morning. The hours ahead hold so much possibility. We're going to be productive. Well nourished. Well liked. Well dressed. Well mannered. Relief is coming to those who had a rough night. A reserve of energy is now available to those who didn't. Then life hits. Emails and texts pour in from people that make you regret that extra cup of caffeine because your heart's racing and mind moving too rapidly. And it isn't even the official start to the day.   Kids won't get ready. Dogs won't poop while the ground's dry and skies clear. Significant others head out too soon or linger too long watching some lame ESPN show when there are dirty dishes still in the sink, school papers to be signed, outfits to inspect, and contingencies if the dog still won't go No. 2.  At 6 a.m., we've yet to break plans, promises, or hearts. We're still convinced the next 18 hours will u...