Dropping like flies

The common cold has transformed itself into acute bronchitis. I don't need a doctor's diagnosis to know this. It happens every time I get a cold. It has been happening to me for as long as I can remember. It's how I know I'm a genius. I missed several weeks of school every year when I was young with bouts of bronchitis and occasionally pneumonia and still got pretty good grades. See? Genius. Just sailed on through. I was less sickly in high school and didn't miss so much class then. I rarely miss work as an adult. So taking two days off this week was a big deal for me. I plan to hack my way back to the wine factory today. I'm sure the tourists will love that.
Speaking of the winery, even in my isolation here in the rain forest hovel, I've learned that yet another of my comrades has given notice. I do like the job, but it's frustrating when all these people I so enjoy working with leave. Months ago, one colleague left to return to school full time. Another left because he got a job offer in his field of marine biology (although the grant funding that job has expired and he may be returning to us for awhile). A third moved back to California because she couldn't make ends meet here in paradise. One will depart in May for a trip to Thailand and a transfer to school on O'ahu. One more just gave notice and I suspect he's found a much more lucrative job as either a landscaper or mechanic, both fields in which he has experience.
The rain keeps falling and the pooches are restless for a long walk. Ah but I'm on the mend now and should be out slogging through the mud with them soon.

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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