Mountains and Islands

Today was positively spectacular.  It was just how paradise is suppose to be.  I got up early to shop the Volcano Village farmers' market. If you don't get there by 7:30 or 8:00, a lot of the most ono grinds are sold out.  On my way, I stopped to drop off some trash and recycling at the transfer station.  That's how we do it here.  No garbage service.  Just chuck your smelly bags into the trunk of your car and off to the dump.  It's not bad really.  Regardless of which way you're headed, there's a transfer station on your way.  When I arrived at the Volcano station, I backed up to the dumpster as usual.  When I got out to open the back of the truck, I noticed a mommy kitty and two babies curled up on a rock nearby.  "Ah," I heard myself say out loud .  No matter.  They were the only ones who could hear me.  Mommy looked asleep, but I think she was watching me through squinted eyes, the way cats do.  I lifted two bags out of the truck and flung them in

Hilo now has what may be the weirdest radio station in the known universe. KHBC is actually a pretty old station, but was previously broadcast only on the AM dial. Now, it's comes into my car via FM signal. Better yet, Kahikina and Lyman, two of my faves from KAPA (and two of the most well known radio personalities on the island), recently defected from their old digs and are now part of the evening drive time, Pau Hana Party show on KHBC . They share the mics with a gal named Pohai . Initially, I wasn't too keen on Pohai , thinking Lyman (formerly one of the boloheads on KAPA) and Kahikina (aka Tommy Ching , the Polynesian Pirate) could handle the show quite nicely on their own. Now, however, I see that she really adds zaniness. In fact, she's hilarious. Pohai has the perfect female radio voice, deep, a little raspy yet uniquely feminine. I like her. KHBC is strange because the station's musical offerings are all over the map. They might play a classi

I was saddened yesterday to learn of the passing of Tim Russert. With the sorry state of mainstream journalism today, we can ill afford to lose one as brilliant and dedicated as Tim. I can only hope that those he mentored will carry the torch for us all. What a brilliant, yet extremely cool guy. It's funny. Russert was always amazed that he, a simple (albeit genius) boy from Buffalo, was able to hold court with presidents and popes. There are plenty of people out there lucky to have held court with him, too. I would love to have spent just half an hour with him over a beer and some wings at the Anchor Bar. Kudos to NBC for their fantastic tribute to their friend, mentor and colleague last night. After hearing that news, plus the stories of the boy scouts killed by a tornado, yesterday morning was a real tear jerker. I think about my dad, who loved politics, and I think about Tim Russert, who was the voice of American politics, and I feel badly that they are going to miss the

I went to the doctor on Monday. Not because I'm really sick or anything. I just finally found one to take me, so went in for an initial checkup and to schedule a physical down the road. Ironically, I did come down with my second cold in as many months last Friday and am still fighting the clog. But I had made the appointment several weeks ago, so I went anyway, even though I was taking a risk that my new doctor would think I had actually come in for a cold. Who goes to the doctor with a cold? What do I look like, a total weenie? Anyway, so what did I learn? (Channel you inner Michael Jackson now....) I learned I'm fat, I'm fat, I'm really really fat, you know I'm fat, I'm fat, you know it..... Ah but my blood pressure is a screemin ' amazin ' 110 over 70. Alrighty then. I'll take that any day. I'm going for a blood test, maybe tomorrow morning, to check my thyroid and a few other things. Seems that's something women of a certain

Ron has a cold. The poor guy is miserable. This his morning, he called in sick - to himself, of course - and chose to stay in bed. Abby and I have taken over his office. We're blogging, getting chin scratches and watching our local morning show rather than streaming stock prices and CNBC . Abby sits on the desk blocking about half my view of the screen. I don't mind. He's a sweet boy. So it seems the local boy will be democratic nominee for president. He's over-the-top popular here, and there are plenty of testimonials from people who say they always knew he was destined for greatness. I wonder if he speaks any pidgin. Anybody born and raised here should. It would be totally cool if, instead of addressing a crowd as "fellow Americans," he would come out with an enthusiastic, " Howzit ! How you stay? Da polls goin ' be choke fo vote da local boy, yeah?" I've been called in to work a bunch more hours at the winery this week and ne