Skip to main content

Here's to good friends and clean air

On Saturday morning, as I sat here checking my email and lamenting the nasty vog outside, I received a nice surprise. The phone rang. No, that's not the surprise. Although I did jump a little. The surprise was the voice on the other end. It was familiar, yet distant. A voice from the past. It was my college roommate Colleen. "I'm here. On the Big Island," she said. She was visiting with her son and an old friend who now lives on Maui. I met them in Volcano Village that night. We had a lovely dinner and talked story well past my usual bedtime. It was really great to see her after so many years. She looked pretty much the same. Mostly, I found it was good to hear her laugh. She has a great, infectious laugh. Sometimes it bursts. Sometimes it's a little ornery and lecherous. Amazingly, there was not one nanosecond of awkwardness between us. We just seemed to hit it off where we left off.
The vog is now gone. It was brutal. For three days it lingered, frying leaves on plants and trees, traumatizing the dogs, making my throat scratchy. It was equally bad in Hilo Town, obscuring what little sun there was. The vog hung in the air because the tradewinds had died. So not only was the air hazy and stinky but hot and humid as all get out. It was downright miserable. All better now. The cooling trades are blowing with gusto. We're back to paradise as usual.
It occurred to me after experiencing the computer crash that I still have all my music. It's on my iPod. It seemed there ought to be a way to copy it from that "little" 20 gig drive back to the computer. But as those of you with iPods know, you can't just plug the little buggah into your computer and do that. What will happen instead is that iTunes will update you iPod with what it has in the library. Which, on this new computer (and the old one for that matter) is nothing! So, I hopped on line to do some research. There, I found a software company called purpleghost that makes just the product I need to allow me to copy music from my iPod to my computer and restore iTunes without letting it zap my iPod. I'm pretty excited about it. It's called TuneJack. It costs $10. Beats losing it all or spending thousands to get it all back. Not to mention the hours I spent importing songs from CDs. A bargain at twice the price if you ask me.
Today is election day! I'm excited. Really. I'm almost always excited by the prospect of leadership change. Here in Hawaii, we have one contested senate race. Daniel Akaka (D) is running against.... I forget her name. Oh yeah. Cynthia Theilen. She's actually an excellent candidate, a moderate republican running on a save-the-environment platform - and has been endorsed by several papers. Trouble is, expecting people to vote against Akaka is like expecting them to vote against their own uncle. He's like family to many with long, deep roots in the islands. Even at age 82, I just don't see him losing.
All this election talk has me thinking that I'd better get my big, fat okole out to VOTE!
A hui hou. Aloha!

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

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

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

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.