I'o, nene and the ameteur hula hour

Today was a great day to be a bird watcher in Volcano. On my way to work, I spotted this i'o, or Hawaiian hawk, sitting on a wire less than a block from the winery. I got out of my truck and walked right under him. He looked at me, then refocused his attention on the grass at the road's edge. I hoped he was looking for a mongoose, although he seems a little small to tackle such feisty prey. The i'o looks a little smaller than a kestrel, a smidge larger than a magpie. It's a very small hawk, but impressive and beautiful none-the-less. The i'o is designated as an endangered species.

So is the nene, or Hawaiian goose. I got an even better shot of this happy couple today. Nene mate for life. The pair has been hanging out around the vineyard lately. Today, they spent the afternoon right out front. I was able to walk right up to them. I think they even posed for me. Say cheeeeeese. Aren't they cool?
Yesterday was Minnesota day. Today was Canada day. In fact, every day lately is Canada Day. The Looney is stronger than the dollar these days, so they're coming in droves. I like Canadians. As a rule, they seem happier than Americans. They're definitely less stressed out, even on vacation. Maybe it's because of all that money they're saving on health care. Besides, how can you not appreciate a country that refers to its one-dollar coin as the Looney and two-dollar coin as the Tooney. Or is that the Two-ney?
During the morning hours, we were a bit slow, so my coworkers and I had some fun being silly, dancing pathetically bad hula, eating too much chocolate but not doing too much work. There wasn't much to do.

It's been slow off an on for days, so all the extra stuff we do when it's slow had been done. Of course, as my esteemed colleague Brittany demonstrates with such flair, there are always glasses to wash!
As it turns out, we had a very classy, professionally designed ad that we were able to modify for our upcoming Valentine's promotion ad. My cutesy but cheesy ad with the humuhumunukunukuapua'a was therefore scrapped. It's for the best, I think.
A hui hou. Aloha!

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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

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

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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