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.

Comments

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

Search This Blog