Skip to main content

Rain, a little sadness and some indoor projects

I can see clearly now, the rain has gone..... not! Psych! We've had it in every form over the past few days. At times, drizzle. Other times, it's a downpour. In between, it's just plain old, garden variety (or should I say garden drowning) rain.
Of course, there's no such thing as garden variety rain in Hawaii. At least not as far as the Hawaiian language is concerned. The word for rain is ua, but that's just the simple translation. There are really many, many words and phrases used to describe rain here. They include not just the rain itself - like driving rain, chilly rain, slanting rain - but what time of day it's raining, where it's raining, in what district, in the mountains, the valley or the shore, in the city or the country.

We've had some bad luck with some of our newly-made island acquaintances. To be truthful, they are the ones with the bad luck. One of our first contacts here, our real estate agent, told me to be sure to call her when we finally moved in so we could get together for lunch. Her name was Sharon. When I finally called, she sounded genuinely glad to hear from me and would love to go to lunch in a week or two. She wasn't feeling well at the time. She had been diagnosed with cancer and was struggling with the ill effects of chemotherapy. She said she'd call when she was feeling better. Those few weeks went by. Then a few more. Then one day, while perusing the obituaries, I spotted her name. What a nice lady. I didn't know her well, but I might have, had we had a little more time. Bummer.
Then this week we learned that another acquaintance, our coffee guy, owner of Kiluea Coffee Company, died over the Christmas weekend! We just saw him a couple of weeks ago. His name was Cary. He was a guy hard not to like right from our first meeting. Cary was friendly and jovial with a great sense of humor and great passion for his work and his family. He was constantly bragging on his wife or his dad or his daughter. He seemed perfectly healthy when we saw him last. Cary was only 52 years old. We still don't know what happened to him. The ladies at the post office were stunned and saddened to hear the news. They knew him pretty well, since he came in almost every day. "What a nice guy," they said. Double bummer!

I've begun my first indoor home improvement project. I've decided to start small. Very small. So I'm painting the very small guest bedroom. Once painted, I'll hang some shelves and hook up a small TV to the cable so guests can fall asleep to their favorite infomercials. Right now that room, like the rest of the house, is all white. Time to jazz it up a bit.
The new hard drive is in and functioning well. I am proud to say I installed it myself. I even partitioned it to organized data a little more efficiently. Am I becoming a total geek, or what?
A hui hou. Aloha!

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

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.