Skip to main content

A stylish Orphan Annie hairdo for free

The sun will come out, tomorrow.
Bet yer bottom dollar that tomorrow,
there's be SUN.....

TOMORROW, TOMORROW, I love ya, tomorrow, it's only a day away.

Did I mention that the climate here is somewhat humid? This is what it does to my hair.

Also, the wall behind me is the color I've painted the guest room. Pretty bold, huh?

Today was very foggy. At least the wind has died down. It blew so hard yesterday and the day before that we lost our carport tarp. The wind just ripped it to shreds. Our Puna style greenhouses needed a little repair too but overall, they survived. We've got pepper plants with blossoms, peas and soy beans sprouting out and cabbage seedlings searching for daylight.
There's a hole in the neighbor's fence. We know this because his goat came to visit the other day into our yard. That would be OK except for the fact that he (the goat, not the neighbor) seems to fancy munching on our coffee trees. The neighbor is a nice guy though and as soon as we told him, he moved the goat to another part of his property, away from our shared fence.
Tonight we cruised all the way down to Pahoa Town for dinner at Luquin's Mexican Food. Yummy! Steak tacos for me! Downtown Pahoa has become a regular little restaurant row. In just the few months since we were there last, several empty store fronts have been filled with some form of dining experience. There's a pizza place, two Italian, Filipino, Vegetarian -raw - organic, luncheonette-type cafe, two Thai places... it's hoppin.'
I love Pahoa. It's a place where everyone fits in because it's full of misfits. For better or worse, there's a live-and-let-live vibe to the place unlike anywhere I've ever been. It makes places like Berkeley and Boulder seem downright stodgy and mainstream. It's nice to see the old false front historic buildings being fixed up and occupied again, without compromising the character of the place too much. There is a Seven-Eleven at one end of town. Otherwise, there are not national chains of any kind there. Pahoa's character remains unique in the world. It has not yet become Generica. Thank goodness, hippies, locals, druggies, intellectuals, artists, recluses, fugatives, free spirits, entrepreneurs and all the other fine citizens of Pahoa for that.
That's all for today. A hui hou. Aloha!

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Mom

This is my beautiful mom. She died last Sunday. For those who knew her, my heart breaks with you. For those who did not, here's an introduction to the best confidante, role model and mother a girl could hope for in life. This is the obituary I'd planned to submit to the local paper, but have opted instead to publish here. Obituary: Beverly Todd Bev -- my mom -- was a longtime caregiver, advocate, and dear friend to countless elderly in South Salem. Hers was a kind and generous spirit. She devoted much of her life to the welfare of others, giving wholly of herself and doing so always with great affection and humor. She was born Beverly Marie Steinberger in Silverton, July 23, 1938, the first child and only daughter of Art and Marie Steinberger. Her brothers called her Bevvy Buns, a nickname she grew fond of and wore proudly within the family circle as an adult. Bev attended St. Paul’s Elementary School in Silverton, Silverton High School and Marylhurst Co...

Back at it

It's been some time since I've written. My mom died in February, and I haven't had the gumption to write much, other than a couple of feature stories for the paper and the occasional pithy email to a friend. Tonight, sitting in my favorite burger joint with a pile of fries in front of me, I dunk them into a deep pool of ketchup mixed with a hot sauce. That's how Mom liked 'em. My burger? The Spicy Hawaiian, a nod to my 808 connections. It's a brilliant combination of peppers and pineapple, a favorite on the Power Stop menu. I'm sure she'd have loved it, too. There's a bubbly beer with a lime in it. That's not a homage to anything. I just like beer. These past months, I've done little but work, search and apply for jobs. Two rejection letters have landed in my email this week. Search-and-apply has become a futile obsession. It's time for a break, at least until I hear back from all those applications still floating around out there. I am...

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...