Search and seizure

The latest developments in Hoppsy's health are good and not so good. The good is that she can now negotiate the back lanai stairs by herself to go potty. She still slips easily on the hardwood and has trouble orienting the feet on her left side, but her mobility has improved. The not so good is that Friday night she had a massive seizure. Right. Not so good at all. She had two on Saturday night. So a quick call to the vet on Sunday got us a prescription for Diazepam (aka Valium) which is used to both stop and prevent seizures. You wouldn't believe the hoops you have to go through to pick up that prescription, it being a controlled substance and all. Sign in blood, names of nearest kin, physical address... OK, I'm exaggerating a little. But it's more than picking up a scrip for Advair, I can tell you that. Long term, there are probably better anti-seizure meds out there, but in a pinch, this works well. I'll just give it to her at night, since that's prime time for her seizures right now, and just for a few days until the vet has another solution. Last night, she rested well and was seizure free. She rested well, so I rested well. Poor baby. We had seizure trouble with Crawford in her final months, so we're familiar and know what to do when it happens. Still, it's no fun at all.

The rain has subsided (mostly) and been replaced by warm, sticky air, high cloud cover and occasional vog. I took a cruise down to J. Hara store the other day and, as I was descending the hill, saw the road disappear into sulfur-dioxide obscurity before me, thick, brown-tinted fog the likes of which Steven King could have a field day. I imagined some multi-tentacled creature lurking in there, ready to wrap it's sticky arm around my car and pull me into its lair. Crunch outside with a soft, meaty center (that would be me). Yikes! I turned around. It occurred to me, after all, that I can get two large Coronas at Hirano Store, closer to home with no need to venture into the smokey unknown.

Winnie (above) says, "Aaaaa hui hou! Aaaaaaa-loha!

A hui hou. Aloha!

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

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.

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

Search This Blog