No whining when there's good wine

It still raining. Really, this sucks.

Hmmmm.... What's new? Right now, I'm sipping a nice Spanish tempranillo which I opened with, of all things, a twist of the wrist. Yes, screw tops are growing in popularity and are no longer for the cheapest, crappiest of wines. This one's a 2005 Riscal. It's light, as tempranillos are want to be, fruit up front but not over-the-top, a touch of pepper and a smooth, slightly tannic finish. I'm enjoying it. Perfect with Spaghetti.

Lucy is curled up in the corner of the couch. Mr. Sox just came in, soaked, water beading up on his back. Now, he's washing his face. The little ones are off somewhere, napping, or snacking. Hoppsy is here, in a ball on her favorite, cushy living room bed, licking her paw. Doc is outside, where it's cooler, listening for evil invaders. Ron is in the tub. Abner ran into the bathroom when he heard the water running, thinking the tub occupant was me. He likes Ron alright, but he l-o-o-o-o-o-o-ves me. We've just finished eating and I'm watching Dancing with the Stars. I'm totally bummed that my favorite show, Kyle XY, is over.

We met a new, cute dog on our walk this morning. Coco. Doc fell head over heals. He became instantly obsessed. He drooled on her, leaving this slimy, foamy skid mark on her back. It reminding me of a certain scene in There's Something About Mary. I guess there's also something about Coco.

Apparently, it's sunny in most parts of Hawaii- Waikiki, Maui, Kona - just not here. But here I am, hanging out in this dreary part of the rainforest, marveling at the invasive trees, ogling the occasional passing pig, feeling the dampness seep into my bones, my bones shriveling for lack of vitamin D, watching the grass grow, the mold grow, the rust grow. Ah, but it's fine, really. Because I have wine. And thin mints.

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Mom

This is my beautiful mom. She died last Sunday. For those who knew her, my heart breaks with you. For those who did not, here's an introduction to the best confidante, role model and mother a girl could hope for in life. This is the obituary I'd planned to submit to the local paper, but have opted instead to publish here. Obituary: Beverly Todd Bev -- my mom -- was a longtime caregiver, advocate, and dear friend to countless elderly in South Salem. Hers was a kind and generous spirit. She devoted much of her life to the welfare of others, giving wholly of herself and doing so always with great affection and humor. She was born Beverly Marie Steinberger in Silverton, July 23, 1938, the first child and only daughter of Art and Marie Steinberger. Her brothers called her Bevvy Buns, a nickname she grew fond of and wore proudly within the family circle as an adult. Bev attended St. Paul’s Elementary School in Silverton, Silverton High School and Marylhurst Co...

Back at it

It's been some time since I've written. My mom died in February, and I haven't had the gumption to write much, other than a couple of feature stories for the paper and the occasional pithy email to a friend. Tonight, sitting in my favorite burger joint with a pile of fries in front of me, I dunk them into a deep pool of ketchup mixed with a hot sauce. That's how Mom liked 'em. My burger? The Spicy Hawaiian, a nod to my 808 connections. It's a brilliant combination of peppers and pineapple, a favorite on the Power Stop menu. I'm sure she'd have loved it, too. There's a bubbly beer with a lime in it. That's not a homage to anything. I just like beer. These past months, I've done little but work, search and apply for jobs. Two rejection letters have landed in my email this week. Search-and-apply has become a futile obsession. It's time for a break, at least until I hear back from all those applications still floating around out there. I am...

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...

Mountains and Islands

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