Skip to main content

Rainy weekend

How do you like the new look o' the blog? The banner at the top was cut from a photo of a giant leaf covered in rain drops. Pretty cool, huh? I think I need to change the color of the heading font, but I haven't figured out how to do that yet.
The tropical depression that's come and gone left us with a generally soggy weekend. We spent it puttering around the house. The dog's are bored stiff. Today, Ron chased a passel o' pigs from the yard with his trusty .22 caliber rifle. That provided some excitement to an otherwise dull day. He didn't hit any of them, but he scared them away. Our neighbor has hit two in the past few days. He's a much better shot than Ron. He's smokin' 'em up. I'm actually glad Ron didn't hit one. I wouldn't know what to do with it if he did. Actually, I would know what to do with it but I wouldn't want to do it. I know the pigs are just trying to survive in this world, just like we are. But they are a menace to gardening and farming. So we'll just keep scaring them away.
All over the island, kids are already getting ready to go back to school. They start next week! Summer vacation is a scant six weeks here. There are fund raisers and school supply collections drives everywhere you turn. It's heartbreaking to me that kids' parents can't even afford to buy them notebooks, pencils, paper and folders for school. I am reminded of a bumper sticker I've seen around lately. It says, "It will be a great day in America when all of our schools have all the money they need and the Air Force has to hold a bake sale to buy a bomber." Indeed.
Harrison Ford, Steven Spielberg and George Lucas have been spotting in various spots around east Hawaii. They're shooting the next Indiana Jones movie. Luckily for Indiana, we have no snakes in Hawaii.
Another week is ahead with oodles of island fun in store.
A hui hou. Aloha!

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

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

General goofiness

I was driving home from an abbreviated shift at work last night when I turned on the radio and heard Bob Dylan singing Everybody Must Get Stoned .  I was reminded of a placard I once saw at a Dairy Queen in Colorado that read, Everybody Must Get Coned .  So it occurred to me, there navigating through the misty darkness, that with a slight modification, this could be a great slogan for a number if different businesses.  Here's my list. Telecommunications company: Everybody must get phoned . Cutlery shop and knife sharpening services: Everybody must get honed . Credit Union: Everybody must get loaned . Brothel: Everybody must get moaned. Winery: Everybody must get Rhoned . Fitness Center: Everybody must get toned . Local planning commission: Everybody must get zoned . Bio-research company: Everybody must get cloned. Doggy daycare: Everybody must get boned. Manufacturer of modern, unmanned spy planes: Everybody must get droned . Reader of corny mottoes and slogans listed on a chees

Re-writing Twain: Adendum

The best thing about rants, at least among the civilized, is that someone smart always makes a valid point to the contrary. My fellow University of Alaska Anchorage classmate, Wendy, directed me to this column, written recently for the New York Times by a writer I admire, Lorrie Moore . She's on both sides of editing Twain issue, and for good reason, posing the notion that maybe Mark Twain was never intended to be children's literature and that that is the problem. Give it a read, then tell me what you think, if you're so inclined. It was Flannery O'Connor who said, "The fact is that anybody who has survived his childhood has enough information to last him the rest of his days."  No matter how idyllic one's childhood, no matter how hard grown ups try to protect their young charges, trauma happens, sometimes the likes of which no child should endure. Stories that reflect this are often the fodder for great literature, stories not necessarily suitable for y