Skip to main content

Pele's still fumin'

The vog was brutal up at the winery today. I've been home for nearly an hour and still I can feel the sulfur coating my throat. Nasty! I'm pretty sure it was the reason business was relatively slow throughout the afternoon. We never got the late day rush that we usually endure.
Cary, the winery's number cruncher, occasionally buys us food. Today, we were treated to breakfast burritos from the golf course just up the road. Their usually decent; loaded with eggs, cheese and Portuguese sausage. Not so good for arterial health, but tasty. They also come accompanied by some garlic laden salsa that, while delicious, is not so great for the breath of folks working in close contact with the public. Today, there was not only garlic, but FIRE. The salsa was so hot, it was painful. My poor coworker, Mandy, was the first to eat her burrito. She did what we all usually do. She slathered on the salsa. Yowza! Thankfully, because of Mandy's sacrifice, I was able to enjoy mine by adding only tiny dabs of the stuff to my burrito. Still, I did experience a bit of the burn. I'm still fighting the effects of the garlic.
Every day I meet visitors who think they want to move here. It happened again today. They love it here. They believe they belong here. Of course, they're staying at a resort and eating out every day. They have decent paying jobs at home to help them pay for that. They don't know that if they move here, they'll most likely have to give up that lucrative employment and settle for one that pays much less. Then, they'll realize they have to live in a place where the cost of living is significantly higher. Less money, more expensive. It's a frustrating combination. Still, they have stars in their eyes. So the Puna district, the only affordable place left in the state, continues to see the malihini come in droves.
The lava is encroaching on the Royal Gardens subdivision and has burned some abandoned structures. Lava can be inconvenient that way.

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