Mountains and Islands

It's still raining, but life is great, so onward we go to two thousand and eight! May two of my favorite quotes guide you through the new year. "Be the change you want to see in the world." Mahatma Ghandhi "Not all those who wander are lost." J.R.R. Tolkien

We've just enjoyed three days visiting with two of Ron's clients, Tom and Michelle. We hit it off famously and I think I'm safe in saying that they are now not just clients, but friends. They joined us for some barbie on the lanai Thursday night. Friday, we gobbled some great sushi and enjoyed more fun conversation. Today, we spent hours meandering our way around the island. They were great company and gave us a welcome respite from the incessant rain. At one stop along the highways and byways, we strolled the grounds of Pu'uhonua o Honaunau , a.k.a. Place of Refuge. The Hawaiian kingdom of old imposed strict laws on the people. If a person broke the law, the punishment was harsh. If you were observed standing in the shadow of the king, for instance, the penalty was death. If a soldier refused to fight his king's battles, his ass was grass. Unless, that is, he could get himself to the place of refuge before being apprehended and whacked. Run, swim, crawl...if he ma

On Christmas eve, Ron and I took an afternoon trip up the Hamakua coast in search of some sun and lunch. We found neither. Traffic was pretty heavy through Hilo, where we stopped en-route at Hilo Hattie to buy me a new Christmas aloha shirt. Our quest for food had us headed to a little place in Laupahoehoe called The 50s Cafe. I had heard it was good, so we thought we'd give it a try. It took us a long time to get there, winding around the curves of the highway in the rain. We were both pretty hungry. Ron kept asking me, "How much further?" I'd say, "I think it's right up here." Then he'd say, "That's what you said last time I asked." Then I'd say, "I know, but I'm pretty sure it's right around the next curve." Then we would laugh. At one point, we made a detour along the Onomea Bay scenic drive, only to be turned around within just a few miles. We were stopped suddenly by a mudslide and several large, tall tre

Mele Kalikimaka is the thing to say, On a bright Hawaiian Christmas Day, That's the island greeting that we send to you From the land where palm trees sway, Here we know that Christmas will be green and bright, The sun to shine by day and all the stars at night, Mele Kalikimaka is Hawaii's way To say "Merry Christmas to you." Written by R. Alex Anderson, 1949 http://melekalikimaka.com/meleka.wav If you click on the link above, you can hear this classic, as sung by Bing Crosby. What better to put you in the holiday spirit! Ah, Christmas time. It must be the reason I got the bug to bake tonight. So after watching Shrek 3, I whipped up an apple spice cake. It's still cooling. It's late, so I won't know how it tastes until tomorrow morning. I think it will go nicely with my coffee. It definitely smells good. I was so exhausted after working four days in a row at the wine

Who says you can't have a white Christmas in Hawaii! If you squint a little, you can see a thin strip of snow atop Mauna Loa . Early this morning, my poor co-worker encountered a horrible customer. It actually happened an hour and a half before we were scheduled to open. Teddy was there early, as he often is, when a car drove into the parking lot. It was about 8:30 a.m. The vehicle screeched to a halt, not in one of the designated parking spaces, but smack in the middle of the lot. A man got out, leaving his car door wide open. He walked into the tasting room. "I'd like to taste some of your wine." he said. The man had ignored the closed signs on our gate and at the front door. He was German and spoke perfect English, but with a distinct accent. Teddy told him we were not scheduled to open until 10:00, but agreed to allow the man to come in and taste anyway. He wanted to taste the red. The man told Teddy he had slept in his car last night. Why he said this was uncle

I've always been kind of a practical person when it comes to interpreting fantastic stories and song lyrics. As a kid, I though Miss Muffet was a wimp. Scared by one little spider? She'd have really freaked if she'd been cleaning with me last weekend. And that old woman who lived in the shoe with all those children should simply move out to a bigger place. Maybe a boot would be better. Size 92. My mom was a big Kingston Trio fan. They had a song called, " MTA " which stands for Metro Transit Authority. It tells a humorous tale about a guy named Charlie who gets on a Boston subway train and, because he doesn't have enough change to pay the fare, he can't get off. The chorus goes like this: Well did he ever return, no he'll never return and his fate is still unlearned, He may ride forever 'neath the streets of Boston, he's the man who never returned.... At one point, the song describes the man's wife, who stands at the station every day at

Saturday started out as just another day to clean the house. Within a short time, however, I found myself on a mission; a mission of arachnid eradication. The spiders, for all their great bug-eating prowess, have a tendency to get a bit out of control in a place where there's no real winter. They're not only everywhere outside, but inside, too. I found webs with giant eight-leggers in corners, on the ceiling, hiding under window shades....everywhere! They were in places I vacuumed just two days before. Since the invasion of the beetles, the spiders have grown enormously fat and happy. So I sucked 'em all up. EEEEEEEEWWWWWW! I was none too keen on removing the vacuum bag. In addition to spider sucking, there was fun with fungi. What did the girl mushroom say to the boy mushroom? Gee your a fun-gi! Unfortunately, the prevailing fungus amongus was not shitakes or portabellos, but mold and mildew. Again.... eeeeeeeeewwwwww! I cleaned the top of the fridge, which was home to a n

The morning began crystal clear, with views of snow-capped Mauna Loa across the golf course on my way to work. Unfortunately, I neglected to bring the camera, so didn't get a shot. Maybe I'll get lucky tomorrow. The nice weather did not last, however, and soon, we were shrouded in Volcano Village mist, interrupted regularly by terrific downpours. Still, it was a fun, silly day. We didn't get busy until late and even then, we weren't crushed. There was plenty of time for us to sing along to the Christmas carols playing on the stereo, talk story and even play a little hang man on the dry erase board we use to convey mass messages to the crew. Ron spent the afternoon learning that the insurance company "expert" he had made an appointment to consult knew less about the coverage provided by various policies offered by her company than he did. I think the experience caused temporary waning of his aloha. "You don't have to be so mean," said the woman

It was a dark and stormy night. Really. It was. Then there was another. Then another. Those nights were accompanied by some dark and stormy days, too. Last week was pretty wild, with buckets of rain, power outages, toppled trees, washed out roads and downright weather craziness. On Wednesday at the winery, I was the hero for figuring out how to turn the incessant beep of the alarm system off when the power went kaput. Visitors and fellow employees alike applauded when the loud, high-pitched whine finally stopped. I also got to ring up transactions by hand and count back change for the first time since my early 20s. That's a very long time , folks. Whew! Luckily, those things you learn when you're young are the things that stay with you for life. It was like riding a bike. I handled the finances while my cohorts poured tastings and helped tourists with merchandise. Amazingly, all the credit card and cash receipts balanced perfectly at day's end. Not so perfect was the impac

I am brave. I must be. I'm certainly no wimp. After all, I've just spent the past two weeks cruising around hippyville with my redneck dad, proudly sporting his NRA baseball cap. That takes guts, dude. Cojones. Yep. I got 'em. Dad is gone now. He jumped on the big bird and flew home to the great Pacific Northwest, where the weather makes our storm today seem like a little sprinkle. It was very blustery throughout the islands, causing it to rain sideways here most of the day. The lanai got soaked. Our carport awning leg blew out and required emergency attention to keep the whole thing from flying away to Oz. It was way more exciting than Hurricane whats-her-name that blew through a few months ago. The surf is huge, beaches are closed and the news is reporting downed trees and flooded neighborhoods. But our weather pales in comparison to the 100 mile-per-hour gusts and driving downpours that have soaked my former homeland. It just goes to show you. The grass is always wetter

The sun was shining, the vog was faint and we cruised to South Point for a day's diversion. En-route, we stopped for malasadas at the Pahala Town Cafe. My dad abstained. While Ron and I chowed down on cream-filled sugary fried dough, dad had a cigarette. I guess we all have our vices. We cruised down to the southern most point on the island. This is an historic location; the place where the first polynesians voyagers, those who would become the first Hawaiians, landed their sailing conoes and started a new civilization after crossing some 2700 miles of open ocean. It's a bleak and barren place, so it's no wonder they fanned out quickly and settled everywhere but here. Still, it's beautiful in it windswept way. On our way to South Point, we stopped at Punalu'u Black Sand Beach. My dad said he really didn't care so much about seeing a black sand beach, nor did he really care if we say a turtle. OK, so he'd been there before. Once. Truth be told, he just didn&#

Ladies and gentlemen.... the BEETLES! Yes, we are experiencing beetle-mania. No, not the Beatles. I'm not talking John, Paul, George and Ringo. I'm talking beetles , like the bug. We are inundated with little brown beetles. Hundreds fly into the lanai every night, then slowly walk around. They walk on the tables, chairs, windows, decking. Beetles here, beetles there, beetles beetles everywhere. These beetles are really very boring. They both fly and walk very slowly. If they flip onto their backs, they cannot right themselves without help. If you touch one, he pulls his legs and antenna in and plays dead. Leave him alone for a moment and off he cruises, steady as she goes. Where's he going? Nobody knows. Once the beetles land, they don't seem motivated to take off again. They just cruise around on foot. They become pedestrian beetles. I don't know what they eat or what eats them. Truth be told, I sort of like the little buggahs . Unless they land in my beverage. The

Pops and I hit the soggy trail today and made our way to the northern tip of the island. We visited the towns of Hawi (pronounced ha- vee ) and Kapa'au , then Pololu Valley lookout. As you can see, it was a spectacular day at Pololu . I vowed to return soon to hike to the black sand beach at the bottom, a task my dad is not really up to these days. As we passed through Kapa'au , I pointed out the statue of King Kamehameha and noted that he was born here, near Hawi . Dad looked at the sculpture, then said, "I thought he was fatter." "Fatter?" I asked. "Well he's fat in the movie," he said. "What movie?" I asked. "Well, in all those movies the king of the natives is always fat," he said. "So there's no specific movie, just movies in general when you've seen a king on some island?" "Yeah," he says. My dad isn't one to dwell on the detailed accuracy of history. The other day on the phone, he tri

It seems that Lucy has taken a page out of Mr. Sox's relaxation instruction manual.... She's a pretty quick study, that girl. HAPPY THANKSGIVING! It was busier at the winery today than I expected, but still relatively quiet. I took a brief break to stroll back to the vineyard to shoot a couple of photos. The first, below, is a large hole in the lava. It looks to be at least 12 feet deep. The story I've heard is that the original owner of the winery drove his tractor right into it and lived to tell the story, suffering only a few scratches. The scenic shot is taken through what are some pretty pathetic looking grape vines toward Mauna Loa . I know it's November and grape vines throughout the northern hemisphere are looking a bit scrawny right now, but these look like this pretty much year round. The red blossom below is a lehua . The tree upon which it blooms is the Ohia . Hawaiian legend has it that the tree is, in fact, a brave warrior. Pele, the fire goddess, goddes

My dad arrived last night. He just made his connection, but his luggage did not. No problem. It made it's way up to the rainforest this morning before 9 a.m. That made him feel better. He was fretting. Really fretting. My dad doesn't travel much, so every aspect of the trip is an adventure. He's content now. It's always comforting to know you'll be wearing your own underwear throughout your vacation. Yesterday was perfect. Beautiful, sunny skies with a slight breeze. It was sunburn weather, to be sure, as I spent a few hours on the tractor, cutting grass under the tropical sun. There was no vog and few clouds. It was a really rare day. Today, was not sunburn weather. Today was curl-your-hair, rust your underwire weather. First, we braved the deluge to get to the highway. Hilo was drier, but no less challenging. The Thanksgiving meal shoppers were out in full force, jamming the aisles of KTA. There were hundreds of pumpkin pies stacked in the bakery and they were be

This morning our modem died. Or, as they say in pidgin, "Da kine all bus' up. It wen go junk." Ron needs his modem to work, so he took Crawford for a ride to town. Crawford loves to ride. Meanwhile, I took Doc and Hopps for a nice long walk. As we were heading home, we heard rustling in the bushes along the roadside. Then, there she was. The biggest, fattest feral pig I've ever seen. Whoa! Dis one fat wahine pig. I've seen fatter pigs in barnyards, for sure, but not fatter wild pigs. She must have gotten into some good gardens. The chubster swinette waddled away as fast as she could once she saw us. The dogs were mildly excited by her. Ah, the adventures of rural living in Hawaii. That was pretty much the highlight of my day. The winery was busy and the day went by quickly. There were lots of nice people buying lots of wine. There was one woman in particular who made me smile. She was also not just a little irritating. Here's a taste of how the tasting went

We use a lot of bubble wrap at the winery. Rolls and rolls of the stuff. Not only is it expensive, it's plastic. It never goes away. It lasts in the environment forever. We also hand out oodles of plastic bags every day. Plastic has become a menace the world over, but is especially troublesome here in Hawaii, where it kills all manner of animals, choking monk seals, strangling green sea turtles and poisoning endangered sea birds. It's unclear to me why the state hasn't simply banned all plastic grocery bags outright, not to mention those rings that hold six packs of soda cans together. Did they not see Dance of the Penguins? So I've taken it upon myself to convince the decision makers at the wine factory that it's time to get rid of both the bubble wrap and the plastic bags and replace them with something biodegradable and made of recycled material. My contention will be that, even if we have to pay a little more for such products, we will be able to tout our eco -

Today was a beautiful, if muggy day on the east side of Hawaii Island. I spent some time today sucking up dust bunnies and scrubbing plates and pans. Most of my day was spent in town, where it dawned on me that here I am, living in a place where it's 83 degrees in Mid-November. That's pretty cool (because it's warm, that is), especially since it did not rain today. It has been humid, however, making it a bit uncomfortable. Not that I'm complaining..... Bumper sticker of the day: "Normal people worry me." Me too.... So there I was, strolling aisles of KTA (that's a local grocery chain) when a diminutive Japanese woman notice the bakery-fresh hot-dog buns in my basket. "Oh those hot dog buns are good, yeah?" She exclaimed, pointing to my buns. "Yeah," I agreed. "Fresh baked at the store. Better than regular buns." And so it went today. I had originally gone to Safeway to buy buns, etc. , but made the mistake of looking at the

We're taught when we're small that if we just try our best, if we just work hard enough, that we can succeed. We learn later that that is not always the case. Our little Snowflake, the kitty we were charged with feeding for our neighbors, died today. This, despite our best efforts to care for him. When we first brought him home a few days ago, he seemed OK, though he was still very thin even after the neighbor had been feeding him for several days. His eyes were a little watery and sticky when he woke up from sleeping. Otherwise, despite his rough start in life, he looked like he had a good chance to fatten and grow into a healthy cat. The first day he ate pretty well. Eddie, the neighbor, had said that he could make it through the night without food, despite the fact that he'd been feeding him every three-four hours. I didn't think that was such a good idea, so I got up for 2 a.m. feedings and to cuddle him a little. He didn't love being fed by a syringe, but he d

I've been doing a fair amount of babysitting lately. Last weekend, I checked in on my neighbor's dog, taking her for short walks and feeding her in the evenings, sharing her care with another neighbor. Now, I've taken on a new responsibility. This one's a bit daunting. It's a very tiny kitten. Another neighbor is a middle school teacher. One of her students found the abandoned kitten and brought the little guy to school in hopes that teacher could help. Sarah's students know that she lives in the country. They assume she knows something about animals. Actually, her husband Eddie does know. He's been hand feeding the little fur-ball for several days now and the kitty's doing alright. He's still a little skinny but is trying to stand up and has a good grip when you put him on your shoulder. They have a big wedding to go to this weekend, however, and have had reservations for months to attend with their entire family. So we volunteered to take care of t

Mr. Sox is really good at relaxing. He's my role model. My hero. I've been privy to some funny jokes lately, so I thought I'd share them here. I actually sort of made this one up myself after hearing another version: How much money do pirates pay for corn? Buck-n-ear! This one I can't take any credit for, but it's darn funny: A pirate walks into a bar. He has a steering wheel wedged in his crotch. The bartender sees him. "Hey Mr.," he says, "Do you know that you have a steering wheel there in your crotch?" "Aye," says the pirate, "and it's driving me nuts!" And speaking of driving: Tiger Woods walks into McDonald's. The girl behind the counter recognizes him. She's not a golf fan and knows nothing of the game, but she's seen him on TV none-the-less. "Hey," she says, "I know you. I like you on those car commercials." "Thanks," he says. She delivers his Egg McMuffin and coffee. Tig

The following should be sung with enthusiasm to the tune of Gene Autry's Back in the Saddle: I'm back on the treadmill again, knowin ' I'll never be thin, Yet I trudge along the belt, hoping some day I'll be svelte , Back on the treadmill again.... Whoopie ty - yi -yo, cruisin ' kinda slow, back on the treadmill again.... Whoopie ty - yi - yay , don't have the guts to weigh, but I'm back on the treadmill again! Ron made himself a chicken quesadilla for lunch today. That got me thinking about something I saw on Good Morning America yesterday. Wolfgang Puck was on, demonstrating how to make that very thing: a quesadilla . Are we really that bereft of culinary skill in the household kitchens of America that we need a renowned chef to teach us to make quesadillas ? Is a quesadilla not simply a grilled cheese sandwich with tortillas substituted for bread? All these things ran through my mind as I watched and listened. " Zey are so ferry easy to mak

Ding dong the coqui's dead, guys sprayed something on his head, ding dong the coqui frog is de -e-e- ead ! Yes, the coqui we had in the yard is now silent. He is no more. The coqui has ceased to be. He is pushing up the ginger. He is an ex- coqui . I wonder if, in time, the coqui will evolve, genetically realizing that his incessant, high-decibel chirping can get him killed as often as it gets him laid. He would then begin to develop a quieter chirp, in a range or wavelength that humans cannot hear and only female coquis can detect. (Of course, the lady coquis would still find the softer sound irresistibly sexy, for they will evolve, too.) When that happens, they will probably no longer be known as coquis . Without the CO- QUI , that name doesn't really work, does it? I'm sure the frog doesn't care. He's just trying to survive in this world, just like the rest of us. If he could just do it in a less-annoying way, we could all live happily ever after. And spe