Different words for different folks

Language fascinates me. I find it interesting that different people from different parts of the US (or the world for that matter) use different words predominantly for the same thing. I ask you; is it a sofa, a couch or a Davenport? Growing up, my mom always called in a Davenport. She hailed from the same hometown as Henry Davenport. I think he was a guy who created a sofa named after himself, and the name (like Xerox or Kleenex or Qtip) stuck. I'm guessing. I really don't know and it's not quite interesting enough to warrant further research. So there you go.
In some parts of the country, they drink soda. In others, it's pop. Some people commonly refer to their refuse as trash or garbage. Here in Hawaii, its usually called rubbish. Yesterday at the grocery store, the gal at the checkout asked us if we wanted a wagon. We both did a double take. On the mainland, we'd have been asked if we wanted a cart. So wagon took a nano-second to process.
The girl also told Ron he had a "puka" in his bag, grabbed it and proceeded to add another. We walked out. "What was that all about?" he asked me.
"You had a puka in your bag."
"What's a puka?"
A puka is a hole. Can't leave the store with a puka in your bag, even if you do put it into a wagon.
I started working on my podcast today. It should be ready for your listening pleasure in a day or two....
It's still raining really hard. Cats and dogs. Coming down in sheets. Pouring. Go figure. I guess that's why they call it a rainforest.
Aloha 'til next time.

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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

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