Mountains and Islands

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

Today I blog about the vog , which came and went all day. I like the blog but hate the vog . That's all I have to say. Ah, but it didn't rain until the day was mostly pau . Yow! That was nice. We're experiencing what's known as Kona weather, a.k.a. Kona winds. Although, the term "winds" is a bit misleading. It's more like lack of wind. The air is still and muggy. The sulfuric gasses spewing from the current eruption aren't blown away. Instead, they settle over us, like forest-fire smoke. Today, I spent sweating while cleaning windows, washing the car and just sitting around watching football. OK. I wasn't sweating while watching football. I had already done my sweating by then. Anyway, go Broncos! Go Rockies. Here is a collection of photos from my recent two week trip to the mainland. We begin with images from In-and-Out Burger, including an unflattering self-portrait. This is what happens when you scrunch your face up while shooting yourself

Pebbles, Roxie and Bailey are keeping me company right now, while my friend Gail presides over her homeowners' association meeting. She's the president. That's life in the big city. Pebbles and Roxie are tortoise -shell calicos . Bailey is an ever- alert soft-coated wheaten . They live here in the pretty coastal town of Encinitas , Calif. Tonight is my last here on the mainland. I've just spent a long weekend with a very special group of people. I've learned over the years that really good friends don't come along all that often, or easily. True friends are rare. They are the individuals with whom you can truly be yourself and never worry whether they will continue to love you. You can act goofy or play the ukulele badly. You can be reflective or emotional or happy or sad and they'll always be right there with you. These are the people you worry about. They are the friends who feel your pain and with whom you want to share your own happiness and successes.

Photos! I promised photos, but still can't get the gosh darned technology to work for me. Gunfunnit! Gunnison is still here, thank goodness. It's changed a little, but very little. That's refreshing. I've heard there are prospective big changes on the horizon. They sound grand and even ominous. Some sound like good changes. Others, not so good. It still seems there is great interest and participation on the part of the citizenry here, so I believe the place is in pretty good hands. I've had a great time bopping around, catching up with friends in town. It is cold here, especially in the mornings. I don't mind really. That could be because I know I'm headed back to the tropics in a few days so I don't have to endure it for months on end. I have enjoyed the sun and the fall colors, but most of all I find it refreshing that all the fun, witty, intellegent, nice people I came to know and love here are not only still here but are still fun, witty, intellegent

The first thing I noticed when I got out of the car in the driveway of my Colorado cabin was the smell. It's a lovely, sweet melancholy scent. Fall is in the air. I don't really know what sweet melancholy smells like, other than to say there's something about it that puts you on notice that winter is just around the corner. It's a smell that tells you summer is over and it's going to get darker and colder very soon. But for now, it's autumn and it's glorious. The grass is golden and the trees and bushes are ablaze with yellows and reds, the wind blowing leaves about like a flurry of butterflies. There is no fall smell in Hawaii. In fact, Hawaii has it's own special smell, of tradewinds and salt water, foliage and flowers and moistness. They are mostly nice smells to be sure, but the smell of fall in the Colorado mountains is especially wonderful. Unfortunately, a photo will have to wait, since this computer at the library does not have a slot for my cam

It's funny the things you miss about a place. For me, there wasn't much to miss about Southern California when I left there, other than good friends (I know, that's huge), the weather and In-And-Out Burger. I definitely have not missed the smog. Yesterday, it was completely obscuring the San Gabriel Mountains from the San Fernando Valley. When I first moved to CA many moons ago, it was several months before I knew those mountains were even there. Then one day the wind blew, the air cleared and, as if by magic, they appeared. They really are beautiful. After visiting the dentist in Encino yesterday morning (and leaving him with more money than I can make at the winery in three months), I went on a one hour search for a double-double, fries and vanilla shake. I found it. Yay! Yummy! They really should probably rename the place. It should now be called In-And-wait just a little while-just a few more minutes-almost ready-Out Burger. It's not so fast as it used to be and muc

What we have here today, is a failure to communicate . (This quote is attributed to either to Lyndon Johnson or that guy from Smokey and the Bandit.) I find that mind reading is a valuable skill for married people. Unfortunately, it's a skill I have yet to master fully. I do have occasional moments of glory, when the other half will refer to a thing or a location in the vaguest of terms and I actually know what he means. Today, however, was not one of those times. We were traveling to Hilo for some light shopping and to take some cash out at the ATM. "Take out a couple hundred," says Ron. We arrive at Safeway and walk through the door together. At this point, he blurts, "There's your thing." He does not point or nod in any particular direction. "My thing?" I ask. I look around. I see lots of things. He is immediately exasperated. I hear the big, 'why me?' sigh. "Right there," he points to the ATM, sounding not just a little irri