Cat naps and dog yaps

Mr. Sox is really good at relaxing. He's my role model. My hero.

I've been privy to some funny jokes lately, so I thought I'd share them here.

I actually sort of made this one up myself after hearing another version:

How much money do pirates pay for corn?

Buck-n-ear!

This one I can't take any credit for, but it's darn funny:

A pirate walks into a bar. He has a steering wheel wedged in his crotch. The bartender sees him.

"Hey Mr.," he says, "Do you know that you have a steering wheel there in your crotch?"

"Aye," says the pirate, "and it's driving me nuts!"

And speaking of driving:

Tiger Woods walks into McDonald's. The girl behind the counter recognizes him. She's not a golf fan and knows nothing of the game, but she's seen him on TV none-the-less.

"Hey," she says, "I know you. I like you on those car commercials."

"Thanks," he says. She delivers his Egg McMuffin and coffee. Tiger reaches into his breast pocket to fetch some catch to make his purchase. As he does this, two tees fall out onto the counter.

"What are those?" she asks.

"Oh those hold my balls when I'm driving," he replies.

"Wow," she says. "Buick thinks of everything!"

Today was beautiful except for one 10 minute downpour at about 1 p.m. Doc and I started morning with a fun trip to the veterinarian. Doc used to love to ride in the car. Ever since we drove him to an airport and put him on a plane to fly across the pacific, however, he has been unable to ride. He starts out OK. He even seems happy to be in the car. Within moments, however, he transforms into a complete basket case, crying, drooling, shaking in fear. The worst part is that he tries to climb into my lap while I'm driving. That's not so good. If he were a shitzu or a bijon frise, I wouldn't mind. But he is a pretty big boy; an 80 lb German shepherd - husky mix. Not exactly what you'd call a petite flower if you know what I mean. So, to get him to the vet, I drug him. I gave him the tranquilizers at about 7 a.m. He's still pretty mellow tonight at 6:30 p.m. A drugged dog is a good dog, I must say. Typically, mellow is not an adjective I'd use to describe Doc. Psycho-yes. Schitzo - that too. Chatty - sometimes. Bratty - regularly. Sweet despite his issues? Definitely. Mellow? Almost never.
He's fine, by the way. We just had a checkup and vaccinations. He's lost a few pounds, too. Wish I could say the same.

Gotta go cook dinner. What was I saying about wanting to lose weight? Tonight, it's pork ribs on the grill. Onolicious! Hey. You only live once.

A hui hou. Aloha!

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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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