You know those map of the stars' homes tours that are all the rage in those places where stars go to live all neighbor like behind rod iron gates and surveillance cameras and such? I'm pretty sure you'll never find me on one. I'm just not that person. You know?
I think it has something to do with my being so incredibly private. I mean really I am. Likely it's the live and let live in me that can't quite wrap my mind around the complicated formula that determines celebrity and how that equals a sort of all access pass to their lives. Probably it's mostly due to my being all kinds of lazy. Seriously. Lazy. I mean just the thought of the energy it would take to track one down, like a good stalker should, well, it's all so very exhausting.
So no one was more surprised than me when on a mid Father's Day afternoon I found myself, boys in tow, driving down a winding country road in search of Oprah's Kula home. Something about the stillness up there, the low rock walls, the horses out to pasture... something about it all made it seem more like a drive to a friend's house for coffee, you know? And I just kept thinking, in my newly ordained stalker mind, that Oprah would be out on the lanai with a wide brim hat tending her plants and she'd see us approaching and would be all "my goodness what a perfectly lovely family" and of course she'd have us in for a bit and would wonder out loud where we'd been all her life, as, of course we'd hit it off like the new besties we so obviously are. Obviously. Said every stalker. Ever.
Turns out I have real potential here guys. Who knew.
And so I give you Oprah's house and her horses and her view and pretty much a perfectly good day for stalking in upcountry Maui.
Big ups to my accomplices on this covert mission: Charlie, who really wanted to go for a long slow drive up country and who also really had no desire to set out in search of Oprah's house, but did it anyway, on Father's Day. I mean you, YOU are so the best. Ty who was all "Oprah who?" "whose house are we looking for?" "why?", like every thirty seconds. Thanks for keeping it real man, you know, in case mommy started having any serious delusions of Oprah being a longtime friend or anything. And little Seanzy who was so liquored up on syrupy shave ice from this place here, that he was cool with anything man. So cool.