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Today's agenda: buns and boobies

Today was a beautiful, if muggy day on the east side of Hawaii Island. I spent some time today sucking up dust bunnies and scrubbing plates and pans. Most of my day was spent in town, where it dawned on me that here I am, living in a place where it's 83 degrees in Mid-November. That's pretty cool (because it's warm, that is), especially since it did not rain today. It has been humid, however, making it a bit uncomfortable. Not that I'm complaining.....

Bumper sticker of the day: "Normal people worry me."

Me too....

So there I was, strolling aisles of KTA (that's a local grocery chain) when a diminutive Japanese woman notice the bakery-fresh hot-dog buns in my basket. "Oh those hot dog buns are good, yeah?" She exclaimed, pointing to my buns. "Yeah," I agreed. "Fresh baked at the store. Better than regular buns." And so it went today. I had originally gone to Safeway to buy buns, etc., but made the mistake of looking at the ingredients on the buns they carry. Both listed high fructose corn syrup at a major ingredient. Say what? So I went to KTA. They bake their own buns and are smart enough not to list the ingredients. Ignorance is bliss.

I faced the trauma of bra shopping today as well. Trying on bras is almost as horrible as trying on swim suits. It is, however, a necessary evil. That's especially true for me, since my current collection of over the shoulder boulder holders is verging on tatters. I sprung for two. Or is that four? Guess it depends on how you count 'em.

I recently learned that Google now offers an alternative portal for web surfing. It's called "Blackle." The screen background is black. Because it's black, it uses substantially less energy than the standard white background. It's a no fills option, but it works just fine for me. After driving around town today, spewing fossil fuel, it feels a little better reducing the size of my big fat carbon footprint at home.

I live in a rural rainforest. It should be quiet and peaceful. Most of the time it is, with the exception of the mooing, barking, bah-ing, squealing and shooting. Yes, shooting. Actually, the squealing usually comes after the shooting. It' goes "Bang, bang -eeeeeeeeeek!" In most neighborhoods, if you heard shooting, you'd call the cops. Here, you don't. Your first inclination is that someone is blasting pigs again. I am so0o0o0o0o0 glad I'm not a pig. Literally speaking, anyway.

A hui hou. Aloha!

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