Mountains and Islands

I don't know how high we flew last night, but two hours after landing, I have yet to come all the way down. En-route from Anchorage to Seattle, I woke from fitful airplane sleep to peer out through the small, oval window. The moon, its face bold and woeful, shone full above the wing. Below, low clouds, like crusty frosting, were broken by splotches of black, and through these breaks in the sugary strata, a great river flowed. Upon its water, up and down its length, the moonlight played, dancing in white sparkles, like tiny bursts of fireworks. The horizon curved along the edge of the earth. The word amazing is used with cavalier indifference these days, but this scene, this moment in time, was. Amazing. If a city's airport is at all accurate in its reflection of the place it represents, then Seattle is a fine and funky place indeed, worn around the edges, hip in its strangeness, strange in its hipness. There are dozens of Starbucks, sure, but there is also the Seattle Tapr...

After banging out some words on pages this morning, I took a lovely walk with my classmate/writer-pal Charlotte around a nearby lake here on the University of Alaska Anchorage campus. We talked about our projects, inhaled the fresh, clean Alaska air, exchanged exaltation's regarding the mentors we'd drawn, and enjoyed the many friendly dogs with their humans who shared our path. The walk was followed by a nap. I'm still recovering from the residency. This evening, I ventured to town for dinner. Hanging out in coffee shops alone is one thing, but eating solo in a fancy seafood joint can feel weird. So I took a book to read, though not just any book; I chose one to perpetuate an eccentric, adventurer-to-the-great-north-country image, to help me look the part. And since I don't have a Craig Childs adventurer-style beard, a book about fly fishing with pastel watercolor salmon swimming across the cover seemed like the next best thing. Opening Days , written by anoth...

It's our last night at the residency, and the final shindig was as fun as ever. Last year, I noted that these same writers were terrible dancers. After tonight, however, I've changed my mind. This reversal is based on fervent observation, and the fact that my friend, writer-extraordinaire Samantha Davis, has threatened to pound me to within an inch of my life if I don't retract it. She's no wimp, this Sam. She lives in the woods of Southeast Alaska, teaches eighth grade, kills her own food and fells trees with her teeth. Or something like that. Anyway, at Sam's urging, and upon my own visual inspection and participation in this maniacal frenzy, I shall officially confirm, here in the annals of this venerable blog, that these writers are not terrible dancers. They are enthusiastic, creative, goofy, whimsical and entertaining dancers. They are Barishnikov's with ball-points, journaling Jackson's, Pavlovas with pens, authorial Astaires. Furthermore, ...

Anchorage was beautiful today, the kind of day that if you flew in for a layover and this is what you experienced, you'd sell all your stuff, pack up your critters and move here. Until this morning it had been cloudy, and misty off and on, which ain't bad either, but today was spectacular. An hour-long session with the editor for Red Hen publishing this afternoon had me vacillating between hara-kiri and an overdose of barbiturates as the preferred method of suicide. How do you like these odds: They publish 20 manuscripts for every 5000 sent to them each year, and you've got to know someone connected to the editor, or one of their authors, or be referred by someone just to get them to read your work. It helps to drop names like parachutes over Normandy in your cover letter, lest interns dump your sweat and anguish onto the flaming slush pile. It made me re-think the merits of self-publishing; for a moment. Then I remembered universities and colleges won't hire you i...

I'm in Encinitas , Leucadia to be exact, with my best Gail-friend, uh, Gail. We jogged today, four long, grueling miles, and I'll have you know that I kept up. Never mind that she practically had to walk on her hands to match my pace. Just prior to our workout, I'd gone upstairs at her tiny townhouse -- which is like, 900 square feet bigger than my "real house" (and much cleaner) -- to change into my sporting attire. I bounded down the stairs to meet her on the patio, where I found her watering her tomatoes. "Ready?" She asked. "Yep. Two bras. Set to jet," I hopped up and down, trying to act like a jock. "Why two bras?" She asked. "I don't like to bounce when I run." She burst out laughing. I mean really, she was rolling. "Hey, I bounce," I said. She shook her head and walked into the house. "I've put on 20 pounds over the years," I said. "Seriously, I bounce!" She just s...

I have neglected this blog for too long. Ron was on fire tonight with what we like to call Ronspeak , or sometimes Ronisms here at hale Todd- Neiderpruem . I think that's what's inspired me to get back to it. Between Ron and my mom, I am never at a loss for curiosities of language. Here's the scene. Ron is in the kitchen, cooking. "What are you making?" I ask. "Balsamic rice," he says. "What's that?" "You know," he says, "that Indian rice." Of course, he means basmati rice. I suggest this, and he gives me a look. Later, Stephen Colbert interviews the playwrite David Mamet. "That's the guy who wrote Glengarry Glen Close," Ron says. "Glen Close the actress?" I ask. Again, he gives me a look. "That's a good one," I say. My census job is, as they say here in the islands, pau . I am relieved. The funniest story to come out of it is one relayed by a co-worker on our l...

I've said that the majority of people I encounter in my travels as an enumerator are friendly, kind and cooperative. It's still true. I've come to appreciate Home Depot in a whole new way. Go to Home Depot, buy a home (aka plastic storage shed), place it on a flat piece of ground and viola! Instant dwelling. Add a few poles and some plastic sheeting and you're stylin'. And the fact that someone lives in one is no reflection on the niceness or contentment of that person. In fact, some of the most rudimentary houses shelter some of the happiest people. That's the beauty of America. We are free to live as we choose. That said, we all know that not everyone is nice. Today, a woman asked me if she had to answer, grilled me on why the information was needed, asked if I counted illegal aliens. Then, she had the temerity to say, "It feels like Nazi Germany, having someone come to your house like that." Really? Nazi Germany? Now, I do look pretty ...

Enumerating is fun! OK, I'll admit I wouldn't want to do it long term, but mostly, it's cool. I drive to Hilo, attend my meeting, submit my time card and completed forms, stop at Good Earth for a muffin and coffee, then head into "the field" as they say to count people. Most people, I've finding, are nice, cooperative and not scary at all. A few are creepy and paranoid, but the majority are pleasant, polite and generally swell. The paycheck is also swell. Don't you just love economic stimulus?

It feels like ages since I last posted to the annals of my blog. Or is that anals ? I always get those mixed up. The big news is that I am now employed, if only temporarily, as a United States Census Worker. My official title is Enumerator. That's a fancy, government way of saying I count people. Of course, if someone is adamant about not being counted, so be it. Far be it for me to press the issue, especially if said person looks mean or is well armed. Most people want to be counted though, don't they? The training is complete, but our enumerator binders will not arrive until Wednesday, so that's when the real work begins. Meanwhile, I've been fighting the tenacious, tail-end of a cold. Just when I think it's gone, I realize it'snot , which totally blows. With just a few short weeks left in the school year, my tutoring position will end for the summer, to resume next fall. I look forward to that. I enjoy it more than I ever expected to, and find the d...

More high drama this weekend! This time, I mean that literally. Upwards of 15 feet high. on Saturday, Lucy, our blind calico, wandered out to the far, skinny end of a branch, the same branch upon which our fickle, traitor of a chicken is pictured in the very annals of this blog, a slanted koa adjacent to the lanai. Despite her disability, she insists on climbing it, usually en-route to the roof, where she curls up under the eves and naps. This time, however, she decided to explore the tree. The thin, whipping branch could barely hold her. Mr. Sox saw her there, instinctively knew she was vulnerable and scrambled up the tree to get in her face. He can be evil that way. When he got there, he took a swipe at her. She held fast, but he lost his footing and fell, catching himself at the last second. The old guy clung by his toenails, all four of them, upside down, holding tight with all four feet. Abner, our skinny, fit Colorado tabby, watched all this from a safe distance. T...

There was high drama at the Volcano Farmers' Market yesterday morning. I was half way along the sidewalk between the covered skate park and the main Cooper Center building, en-route to the gravel parking lot where I'd wedged my car. I plodded along, my green, re-use bag in one hand, celery stocks and carrot tops sticking up over the top, my coffee in the other, styro-cup lifted and in mid-sip, walking and drinking, drinking and walking. I might have been humming. It was a nice day, perfect for multi-tasking. Suddenly, I heard a great thump and turned to see the aftermath of a spectacular crash. A woman had stubbed her sandaled toe and fallen - splat - face first onto the pavement. Her nose was gushing blood and a quail's egg had swollen beneath her right eyebrow. I dropped my bag and ran to help, as did a young man who had also been nearby and heard impact. I helped her sit up, then instructed him to go find some tissues or towels. Others gathered. I sent one to find the...

It's been a rough week. Last weekend, Hoppsy had a seizure. She's since recovered and is feeling well, cruising along as if nothing happened. The doggie V alium comes in handy for that, too. Two days later, we found that Abner broke his toe. Most likely, her brother/ homie /best buddy Doc, the 80 pound, clueless wonder pooch, stepped on him. Abners a ten-pound, slightly built tabby with tiny feet like his mother, so there you have it. He got a shot of anti-inflammatory at the vet and is doing much better now. The weather's been beautiful in Hawaii, everywhere but here. I drove to the university Monday to find bright orange cones blocking my entry into the parking lot. "What's up?" I asked the security person at the gate. "Spring break," she said. Duh! So I went to Seattle's Best at Borders (since Kope Kope is pau - sniff!). It was packed, probably because Kope Kope is pau . They have a killer orange spice latte. I hunkere...

Hoppsy has developed a fear rain. Not drizzle, but the cats and dogs, torrential kind. This is not a good thing for a dog who lives in a rainforest . She's always hated thunderstorms. Thunderstorms are most often accompanied by downpours, so now, she hates downpours by association. It's not so irrational when you think about it, from her perspective, through her ears. It makes perfect sense. So this afternoon, having run out of herbal calming capsules, we have resorted to half a doggie Valium , just to take the edge off. Poor baby. I received another rejection note today. This one came via email. They're all so damn polite. We appreciate the opportunity to read your story. We have decided, however, that it does not suit our needs at this time. We wish you luck .... blah, blah blah. No you don't. You think I suck. If you really appreciated my story, you'd accept it. Well one day, someone will, someone huge, or at least someone reputable. They'...

It is with a heavy heart that I announce the disappearance of our rooster, Chuck. Last week, I caught him hanging out at the end of our driveway, cavorting with a cute little hotty of a brown hen from across the street. They did look like a happy couple. She must be something special for him to give up premium scratch, fresh fruit, bread, and other chicken- delectables , not to mention the fun of tormenting the cats. I asked Ron if he'd had the talk with Charlie. He shrugged. So I suspect we'll soon see the little brown hen with a trail of tiny, fluffy chicks in tow. Kope Kope closed this week! It's my favorite coffee shop in town. Now, we're left with just two independent shops (that I know of), neither of which is great for hanging out to read or write or listen to live music. One is little more than a drive-through kiosk . The other is Bear's, downtown. It's funky but tiny, with tasty fruit-topped Belgian waffles. The coffee, last time I was t...

Ron expressed concern today for our dog, Doc's sexual orientation. "You mean, you think he's gay?" I said. "I've known that forever. A mother knows these things." "It's just that he spends so much time with Charlie." "So, you're not concerned that he's gay, but that he's trans-species?" "Yeah! That's it," he said. "And why does that bother you?" I said. "It doesn't really. It's just a concern." I told him not to worry, the dogs of a feather will always flock together... And so went our conversation. Meanwhile, as I type this, Doc and Charlie are sharing some quality time together under the carport. Winter Olympics!!!! Love 'em. I've spent the past two days sending manuscripts to literary journals. I've been advised that the best way to approach the publishing challenge is to blanket the market. My blanket is a thin one, riddled with holes, more of a ne...

Who says chickens can't fly? Here's Chuck, a good 10 feet up. He flaps with furious abandon to heist himself that high. It's feathered flurry at it's finest. Yesterday was an unplanned road trip. They had an opening at the dentist in Waimea, so I went to get the pearly whites scraped and polished. Afterward, I stopped for lunch at the Parker Ranch mall, a place called Las Casuelas. Their food is good, but the seating is in a collection of tables shared by all the vendors, like any food court. While the food was cooking, I went to stake out a table, sat and read my book while I waited. I looked up after a few minutes to see the woman who had taken my order waving to me that my meal was ready. Hmmm.... What to do? If I carry my book with me to keep it secure while retrieving my food, the table will be empty and someone might snag it. If I leave my book on the table, someone might snatch the book. Then it hit me. What was I thinking? This is America. Better...

Lucy had laser surgery on her cancerous schnoz last week. She's now sporting a pinched, Michael Jackson look, but it's healing nicely and with luck, no more soreness or bleeding. Poor baby girl! She was furious with me for awhile there and still a bit miffed for the antibiotics I squirt down her throat twice a day. Can't say that I blame her. I'd put sunscreen on her nose to protect it for her, but she'll just lick it off. I suppose it's fortunate then that it's so rarely sunny here. When it is, however, the sun is intense. That was our big trauma last week; a kitty nose job. Our water supply is holding out, despite the lack of rain these past days. It's been dry, yet the vog has stayed away, so it's been a nice stretch. I can sit on the spider infested lanai to write without getting wet or asphyxiating from the toxic air. I've grown accustomed to the company of the arachnids. There's just no defeating them and I appreciate the fa...

Sometimes, there's nothing new to write. I do have a new song though, sort of. It's sung to the tune of an old 70s melody. Remember Love Is In The Air? Well here's my version: Vog is in the air everywhere I look around, vog is in the air spewing right out of the ground, and I don't know if it's gonna kill me, feel my esophagus swell, eyes burning bloodshot and tearing and you know I'm not keen on the smell...... Today was mostly clear, the gas ebbing and flowing, it's here, it's clear, it's here, it's clear. The cilantro growing in the garden is fried. Beans too, but only the leaves. Basil? Not sure. It seems OK... The trade winds are M.I.A. and it hasn't rained in almost two weeks. Now, you'd think I'd be ecstatic about that and I am, really (cough, hack), but now, in addition to being subjected to Pele's halitosis, we have to conserve water as our tank is down to half full. If it's yellow, let it mellow.... y...

Christmastime in Hawaii! People have snapped up the sashimi -grade tuna and poke like mad, like usual. There's a shortage this year, which has put a damper on tradition. The fishery has been closed on big eye tuna to long liners. People will be stuck with less traditional fare this year like marlin or ham or turkey or tofurkey . Besides tuna, there's also the annual holiday run on bamboo. It is Japanese custom to create a tiered, bamboo vase for the new year. Bamboo brings luck and prosperity. I'm surrounded by it, or at least I drive through a thicket of it nearly every day. So far, the luck and prosperity have been slow in coming. That said, it's Christmas and people are want to believe. So they ravage local bamboo forest, whacking it with gusto along the road's edge. Nobody cares much. It grows back quickly. Mochi pounding is another New Year's ritual. Rice is pulverized in giant mortar bowls into fine flour. This is accomplished with great ...

A friend of mine went to the unemployment office in Hilo Friday morning to file her claim. It seems everyone's out of work these days. I have three friends here with whom I actually hang out on occasion, and of the four of us, three are on the skids. Of course, that could be a testament to the company I keep. Considering that I'm one of the three, however, it could also be a testament to the company they keep. Anyway, when she arrived, she found the office closed. That's right. The unemployment office has been furloughed on Fridays. There is a great ad in the Help Wanted section of the Hilo Tribune-Herald this week for a Goat Herder. There was also one looking for fruit packers and another from a diner seeking dishwashers. There's the omnipresent local search for an astronomer with a PhD in Astrophysics and at least 10 years experience in black hole research. There's always that, what with all those big, bad-ass telescopes on our mountain. Otherwise, t...