A beautiful day in paradise

The sky was so clear and blue this morning that the snow atop Mauna Kea shone brighter than dandruff on a black t-shirt. And prettier, too. There's about a foot of the white stuff up there.
Today, we played, strolled, baked, weed whacked and just generally enjoyed a perfect day of sunshine graced with lovely, cooling tradewinds. The cats were all in kitty heaven. This is Lucy. Isn't she a cutie? She came with the house. We have fallen head over heals in love with her. Abner likes her too.
Now, it's raining. No. It's pouring. It's so loud I can hardly hear the keys on the keyboard as I type this.
My dad is preparing for the biggest trip of his life. He is coming to the island to visit us for a couple of weeks in April. He's never been on an airplane longer than two hours, never been east of the Mississippi or west of the West Coast of Mainland USA. So this should be quite an experience for him. I'll meet him in Honolulu. It's a small, yet notoriously challenging airport to find one's way through. It's that wiki-wacki wikiwiki shuttle that get's 'em every time. We'll go see the Arizona Memorial and probably the battleship Missouri, check out Waikiki, then head home to Hilo.
Ron has a new favorite commercial jingle that he's been singing around the house for several days now. "Big, buckin' chicken.... you are big and you are chicken....." I'm going to try to talk him into singing it for my next podcast, so be sure to tune in. It's pretty funny really. Of course, everything becomes a form of entertainment when you've been cooped up in the house for three weeks enduring torrential downpours, one after another.

Comments

Born and bred

The creature stared at me, wide-eyed through the florescent glare, Saran Wrap stretched tight across its broad back. Alone in the seafood cooler, he was the only one of his kind, there among the farmed, color-added Atlantic salmon and mud-flavored tilapia, perched on a blue foam tray, legs tucked 'round him like a comfy kitten. He didn't blink. He was dead, red, cooked and chilled, ready to eat. Such a find is rare in the City Market fish department in Gunnison, Colorado. What if nobody takes him home? I thought. This beautiful animal will have died needlessly, ripped from his home, family and friends (Dory, Nemo, Crush and Gill?) only to be tossed in the trash when his expiration date came and went. I lifted him for closer inspection, checked that date, felt the heft of him, scanned his surface for cracks and blemishes. The creature was perfect. I lowered him back into the cooler, nodded farewell, turned to walk away, took one step, and stopped. Shoppers strolled past, stud

Fruity booty

It was a long drive from Glenwood to the northern tip of the island -- three hours -- so for sustenance, we stopped at Baker Tom's for malasadas on the way. My pal Kathy and I were headed to Kapa'au for a hike, one we'd read about in the local newspaper. The couple who run Baker Tom's (not sure if the husband is actually Tom or not) are delightful, with enduring stamina. They're as old as radio, yet they're always on duty, ready to serve behind the counter, as they have for many years, frying, baking, brewing and smiling, there in Papaikou , gateway to the Hamakua Coast. The malasadas are enormous, cheap and delicious, the coffee OK, the tourists all happy to have discovered this place, buzzing with sugar and caffeine. They make a killer pumpkin cheesecake at Baker Tom's, too. It's always a pleasant stop. Ahapua'a . It's a Hawaiian land division, usually a strip or wedge, stretching from mountain to sea. Hawaiians lived in villages wit

On Tennis and Writing and Being Too Nice

I've recently been recruited to play tennis for a local 4.0 ladies tennis league team, referred to as either "Team Debbie" for the nice woman who manages us, or "Have Fun," which is our pre-match chant. We're still looking for a proper name. But we do have fun, despite getting creamed most outings. Last Saturday, we played in the Edith Kanakaole Tennis Stadium in Hilo. Good thing, too, since outside it was pouring, complete with thunder and lightning. It's a substantial structure, covered, yet open all around, most famous for hosting the annual Merrie Monarch Hula Festival in April. It was about 85 degrees outside and 100 percent humidity, air so thick it took three sucks of my albuterol inhaler just to breath. Several of us arrived early to warm up, but after twenty minutes' steady rallying with my teammate, Keiko, the human backboard, I was drenched. I played doubles with a nice, extremely fit and excellent ground-stroker named Cynthia from Pahoa.

Mountains and Islands

Search This Blog