Ding dong the coqui's dead,
guys sprayed something on his head,
ding dong the coqui frog is de-e-e-ead!
Yes, the coqui we had in the yard is now silent. He is no more. The coqui has ceased to be. He is pushing up the ginger. He is an ex-coqui.
I wonder if, in time, the coqui will evolve, genetically realizing that his incessant, high-decibel chirping can get him killed as often as it gets him laid. He would then begin to develop a quieter chirp, in a range or wavelength that humans cannot hear and only female coquis can detect. (Of course, the lady coquis would still find the softer sound irresistibly sexy, for they will evolve, too.) When that happens, they will probably no longer be known as coquis. Without the CO-QUI, that name doesn't really work, does it? I'm sure the frog doesn't care. He's just trying to survive in this world, just like the rest of us. If he could just do it in a less-annoying way, we could all live happily ever after.
And speaking of things that are dead or dying, so is my pursuit of a law degree. My LSAT score was abysmal. So much so that I cannot in good conscience apply to the University of Hawaii. There are only about 10 legitimate schools in the country that would consider me with a score so low. Since my family situation makes moving to Tulsa or St. Louis or North Dakota pretty much out of the question, I must either retake the test and hope for a dramatic improvement in my score or give up on this dream and formulate another. That said, I am not quite ready to give up. I've fallen off the proverbial horse, so it's time to get back on. I'll take the test in February. I'll also sign up for a bona fide, well-regarded test prep course. It'll be my last, best hope.
Now, here's my theory on law schools that require high LSAT scores. The LSAT does not measure knowledge. It measures aptitude and test-taking prowess. So it seems to me that the higher the LSAT score requirement, the lower a schools confidence in their own professors and curriculum to actually teach students what they need to know to pass the bar exam. They'd rather take the easy route by starting out with naturally bright students. So Harvard and Yale, what's so great about you that you don't think your faculty is good enough to transform average students like little ol' me into Perry Mason or Clarence Darrow or Marcia Clark? Not that I want to be Marcia Clark. I'm just sayin'.... Maybe the University of Tulsa is the better school.
I've been keeping close tabs on the fires in California. I must say that the people of the golden state are not only tough and resilient, but stay civil and even friendly through the worst adversity. I know this from first hand experience, having lived there at ground zero during the Northridge earthquake. I've heard stories of total strangers opening their homes to evacuees. They've had to turn volunteers and donations away from Qualcom Stadium and other shelters because they've literally got too many supplies and too much help. People are being welcomed with all of their family members, including the four-legged ones. It's all not only amazing but it really warms my cockles.
The Kona weather often brings us more sunshine here in the rainforest. It can, as I've said, encourage the vog to settle in and make the air a bit chewy with sulfur dioxide. After seeing the smoke in San Diego this week, I may never complain about the vog again. OK, I probably will. But I will be a total weenie for doing so. Anyway, yesterday was beautiful, with plenty of sun but little vog. So I took a ride on my bike around the Kilauea Crater in Volcanoes National Park. Riding through old lava flows has more impact from the seat of a bike than the seat of a car. The flows aren't so old -1974, 1984 - most within my own lifetime. I can almost picture the molten lava flowing in my minds eye when I see the jet-black color of those recent flows. I am also aware that it could one day soon be not a vision in my mind's eye, but a sight experienced by my actual peepers in living color, gawking at the power of nature as it both creates and destroys. I just hope my house is not in its path.
The tradewinds are now back. It's raining. But the air is clear and the breeze is keeping us comfortably cool.
Here's a very odd thing. I found a turd in the house tonight, near the trash can. I don't know who left it their, but based on it's size, it had to be either Hopps or Crawford.
(Say is ain't so!) It was too big to belong to one of the cats. It could not have been Doc for two reasons. 
One is that his poops are much larger. He's a big boy. The other is that he would NEVER (and I can't emphasize that enough) poop anywhere near the house, let alone inside it. He hates poop and goes out of his way to find an obscure spot far away from his abode. While most dogs are intrigued with doggie doodie they encounter along their daily walks, Doc steers clear of all piles. It's a very endearing quality in him. Anyway, I don't know what went down that one of my long-potty/poopie trained girls would let one slip. It's an anomaly. At least, I hope it is. In any case, it's just poop. Poop happens.Business has picked up at ye ol' wine factory. It's been pretty fun and the seemingly endless parade of tourists keeps us hoppin'. I just finished reading, "How Starbucks Saved My Life" and, working at the winery, I feel a little like author Michael Gates Gill. I'm proud to say I'm holding my own with the kids.
A hui hou. Aloha!
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