Mountains and Islands

I just have one word.  Metabolism.  I know that with mine, when the great famine comes, I will survive.  In the words of that interminably skinny Forrest Gump , that's all I have to say about that. Allergy doc says that all the things I'm allergic to - the local grasses, mold, etc - are just swirling around everywhere outside and that's why I'm perpetually reactive, loaded with junk and trying to clear it.  Sounds pleasant, doesn't it?  That's another trouble with  endless summer.  Everything just keeps growing.  They gave me some new, heavy duty, turbocharged nasal spray.   Yowza .  Harsh. Tastes nasty.  Bores through like a diamond head drill bit in a coal mine.  Stuff works, though.   Checked out a new sandwich joint downtown yesterday called, "The Planet Cafe."  I had a grilled portobello -provolone sandwich.  Pretty good.  Small, not too busy.  Don't know if they'll make it. There's also a new steakhouse in Kea'au .  It's the t

Friday afternoon had us making a road drip to Honoka'a , which I always enjoy.  Road trips are limited here, as you might imagine.  You can circumnavigate the island, of course, which takes about six, maybe seven hours.  Or you can go in a single direction and back, the longest stretch for about three hours.  Once you've done that a few times, you've done it and that's that. Except for the occasion mongoose crossing the road, there's not much variation. The island doesn't change much either, from season to season.  Oh sure, it's lush and green on the east side, dry and barren except where humans have planted palm trees on the west.  I used to love the drive from Gunnison to Denver along Highway 50, then 285.  There was always wildlife: elk in a pasture, deer, maybe even some antelope, red tail hawks, eagles,  and a variety of other varmints.  It's the same road every time, but in winter, it's white.  In spring, the gradual transformation to green se

Good Superbowl, yeah?  I was rooting for the Cardinals, of course, but it was a great game, down to the last seconds. Last Friday, a man came into the winery looking very much like Elton John.  It wasn't, of course.  If anyone would know the real Elton, it would be me.  A few of the customers did double takes and we heard them whispering, "Is it really him?"  Personally, I figured the guy for a flaming, overzealous fan.  He had the orange-tinged helmet hair, jewelry, earring (although in the opposite ear worn by the real EJ ) and even a slight gap between his front teeth, but no English accent and the wrong voice altogether.  Turns out he's worked as a body double for Elton for 17 years.  At least, that's what he claimed.  His stage name, as he referred to it, was Eldon John and he had a few autographed photos of himself to share.  I have an autograph from the real Elton, so some chicken scratches from an impostor did not interest me much.  My co-workers dug it,