I have recently returned from a 16-day feeding frenzy that took me from Hawaii to San Jose, Carmel, San Francisco, Tomales Bay, & Loomis, CA, then onto Las Vegas NV, Boston & Salem, MA, New Hampshire, Seattle, and finally back home to Oahu. I know, it was a lot. But your mom only turns 80 once and if your bestie is only going to be working in New Hampshire for four months, you really must go and see the fall foliage and eat all the lobsters. That’s what I told myself anyway, and I’m so glad I listened.

You see, I am part of a pretty great wolf pack. This is one that was formed by a bunch of hungry wolves finding each other over plates of sexy food and sexy drinks at the little cafe I owned and operated in Honolulu for five years. Two of them showed up as new employees, one was my soul sister who helped cover some shifts when I first opened, one was a boyfriend and the rest were customers turned family, and while none of us play our original roles, still all of them are my people today.

Five of us linked up at several pinpoints across the country recently to do what we do best: eat, drink & be merry.

My first step in preparing for such an adventure: buy sensible shoes. I knew there would be plenty of walking in my future, I was anticipating cold weather, and I needed something cute. What I bought instead was a semi-ridiculous pair of crystal covered espadrilles which were totally out of my *comfort* zone, if you will. But something said, “Do it”, it was that kind of trip and so I opted for semi-sensible, fun shoes.

My second step was researching all of the places we needed to try as we ate our way across the country, beginning with three days in my favorite City By The Bay, before heading north to cook for a three day birthday celebration for my mom.

Three days is never enough in San Francisco. I could spend three years there and never eat all of the things on my list. But damn, we did a pretty good job. In a similar way that three days in San Francisco is never enough, three days with family is just right. Especially when your family is made of clowns, comedians, and energizer bunnies such as mine. But celebrate we did. Wineries, an Octoberfest, dancing, singing, daily gathering around a big beautiful outdoor table, storytelling, laughter and tears. These are the people who first taught me the value of eating, drinking & being merry, and as they say, the fruit doesn’t fall far from the tree.

Next came three days in San Jose, which included a beautiful lunch in the garden of my previous photography assistant/right hand, a sunny afternoon in Carmel By The Sea, dinner with friends on a deck in the Santa Cruz mountains, a tour of the Winchester Mystery House, The Mystery Spot in Santa Cruz, and one more day and night in San Francisco, because… San Francisco.

And since we had to have a layover somewhere on our way to Boston, my travel buddy/hungry wolf chose Vegas, because we are animals. First stop: Pretzels at New York, New York Hotel. Next, I watched my friend gamble as my gummy kicked in and I marveled at the weirdness all around me as we sipped Corona’s in the blink and bling of a casino on The Strip. Finally, a verrrrrrrry sexy dinner at Sparrow & Wolf, (because *Wolf*) which her foodie brother HIGHLY recommended and we smartly heeded his wise advice . And holy hell was it good.

A midnight, red eye flight to Logan International Airport and a drive straight to Tatte Bakery & Cafe for some amazing Pastries before hitting the road for a brief visit to my friend’s family on the way to Portsmouth, New Hampshire included me spilling coffee on our host and nearly falling asleep at the breakfast table, but also included the very valuable lesson of how to properly pronounce Peabody, which became our favorite exclamation over the next six days.

Two nights were spent in the charming town of Portsmouth, hanging with our Navy shipyard friends, then back to Boston where we pulled off a surprise guest’s arrival to join the celebration of our friend’s birthday, a day eating our way through the picturesque brick buildings and a night at the Encore Boston Harbor Resort & Casino, which happened to be the same night the Patriots played Tampa Bay/Tom Brady, which I’m sure you know is a very big deal in those parts. Not gonna lie, I was a little nervous of winding up in some angry mob of the infamous “Massholes”, but actually everyone was quite pleasant, especially the two middle-aged sisters who invited me to sit with them in the fancy sportsbar as they told me about their town, swooned over the fact that I live in Hawaii and insisted I check out Cambridge, which of course, we did the next day.

We had planned to take a quick tour of Salem, the famous witch town on our way back to Portsmouth, but once we arrived on a grey, rainy afternoon, it was clear we were going to need more time there to explore all of the creepy and magical things and so we spontaneously booked a room at a rumored haunted hotel.

During a fun yet freezing two hour walking tour that night, the wicked cold Massachusetts rain soaked my sparkly espadrilles as our tour guide joined the list of those who had complemented them along my travels, while I said thank you but longed instead for more sensible and - if a girl could dream- DRY footwear. We recounted the spooky stories we had heard the next morning while I blowdried my shoes before we set out to explore the town in the daylight before our drive back to New Hampshire.

Our adventure ended with an EARLY morning flight to Seattle because, again, we had to stop somewhere on the way home and when my travel buddy said, “If we stop in Seattle, there’s a sandwich we have to eat”. Done, said I. That’s just how it is when hungry wolves travel. We had about four hours to hunt down the famous Caribbean Roast Pork Sandwich from Paseo (said to be the second best sandwich in the US by Food Network), then on to Pikes Place where we met up with above mentioned soul sister for oysters and prosecco on a stunning sunny day after shopping for cigars, hats and honey.

And then just like that, I clicked my sparkly shoes together three times and I was back in my little cottage in Kaimuki, looking through the hundreds of photographs captured along the way and sorting out the many stories I have collected to tell about a wolf pack feeding frenzy.