Mountains and Islands

Ron expressed concern today for our dog, Doc's sexual orientation. "You mean, you think he's gay?" I said. "I've known that forever. A mother knows these things." "It's just that he spends so much time with Charlie." "So, you're not concerned that he's gay, but that he's trans-species?" "Yeah! That's it," he said. "And why does that bother you?" I said. "It doesn't really. It's just a concern." I told him not to worry, the dogs of a feather will always flock together... And so went our conversation. Meanwhile, as I type this, Doc and Charlie are sharing some quality time together under the carport. Winter Olympics!!!! Love 'em. I've spent the past two days sending manuscripts to literary journals. I've been advised that the best way to approach the publishing challenge is to blanket the market. My blanket is a thin one, riddled with holes, more of a ne...

Who says chickens can't fly? Here's Chuck, a good 10 feet up. He flaps with furious abandon to heist himself that high. It's feathered flurry at it's finest. Yesterday was an unplanned road trip. They had an opening at the dentist in Waimea, so I went to get the pearly whites scraped and polished. Afterward, I stopped for lunch at the Parker Ranch mall, a place called Las Casuelas. Their food is good, but the seating is in a collection of tables shared by all the vendors, like any food court. While the food was cooking, I went to stake out a table, sat and read my book while I waited. I looked up after a few minutes to see the woman who had taken my order waving to me that my meal was ready. Hmmm.... What to do? If I carry my book with me to keep it secure while retrieving my food, the table will be empty and someone might snag it. If I leave my book on the table, someone might snatch the book. Then it hit me. What was I thinking? This is America. Better...

Lucy had laser surgery on her cancerous schnoz last week. She's now sporting a pinched, Michael Jackson look, but it's healing nicely and with luck, no more soreness or bleeding. Poor baby girl! She was furious with me for awhile there and still a bit miffed for the antibiotics I squirt down her throat twice a day. Can't say that I blame her. I'd put sunscreen on her nose to protect it for her, but she'll just lick it off. I suppose it's fortunate then that it's so rarely sunny here. When it is, however, the sun is intense. That was our big trauma last week; a kitty nose job. Our water supply is holding out, despite the lack of rain these past days. It's been dry, yet the vog has stayed away, so it's been a nice stretch. I can sit on the spider infested lanai to write without getting wet or asphyxiating from the toxic air. I've grown accustomed to the company of the arachnids. There's just no defeating them and I appreciate the fa...

Sometimes, there's nothing new to write. I do have a new song though, sort of. It's sung to the tune of an old 70s melody. Remember Love Is In The Air? Well here's my version: Vog is in the air everywhere I look around, vog is in the air spewing right out of the ground, and I don't know if it's gonna kill me, feel my esophagus swell, eyes burning bloodshot and tearing and you know I'm not keen on the smell...... Today was mostly clear, the gas ebbing and flowing, it's here, it's clear, it's here, it's clear. The cilantro growing in the garden is fried. Beans too, but only the leaves. Basil? Not sure. It seems OK... The trade winds are M.I.A. and it hasn't rained in almost two weeks. Now, you'd think I'd be ecstatic about that and I am, really (cough, hack), but now, in addition to being subjected to Pele's halitosis, we have to conserve water as our tank is down to half full. If it's yellow, let it mellow.... y...

Christmastime in Hawaii! People have snapped up the sashimi -grade tuna and poke like mad, like usual. There's a shortage this year, which has put a damper on tradition. The fishery has been closed on big eye tuna to long liners. People will be stuck with less traditional fare this year like marlin or ham or turkey or tofurkey . Besides tuna, there's also the annual holiday run on bamboo. It is Japanese custom to create a tiered, bamboo vase for the new year. Bamboo brings luck and prosperity. I'm surrounded by it, or at least I drive through a thicket of it nearly every day. So far, the luck and prosperity have been slow in coming. That said, it's Christmas and people are want to believe. So they ravage local bamboo forest, whacking it with gusto along the road's edge. Nobody cares much. It grows back quickly. Mochi pounding is another New Year's ritual. Rice is pulverized in giant mortar bowls into fine flour. This is accomplished with great ...

A friend of mine went to the unemployment office in Hilo Friday morning to file her claim. It seems everyone's out of work these days. I have three friends here with whom I actually hang out on occasion, and of the four of us, three are on the skids. Of course, that could be a testament to the company I keep. Considering that I'm one of the three, however, it could also be a testament to the company they keep. Anyway, when she arrived, she found the office closed. That's right. The unemployment office has been furloughed on Fridays. There is a great ad in the Help Wanted section of the Hilo Tribune-Herald this week for a Goat Herder. There was also one looking for fruit packers and another from a diner seeking dishwashers. There's the omnipresent local search for an astronomer with a PhD in Astrophysics and at least 10 years experience in black hole research. There's always that, what with all those big, bad-ass telescopes on our mountain. Otherwise, t...

It was a slow day at the tutor's desk. Shopping was a drag. The highlight of my town trip today was a bumper sticker that read: Militant Agnostic: I'm not sure and neither are you It's funny, in a heady, heretical sort of way, right? Then later, walking on campus, I spotted a young woman, so brave in her political incorrectness, sporting a t-shirt that said, Fearless Haole . Fearless Hawaiian and Hawaiian Pride are emblazoned on windshields and chests and biceps everywhere you look. There are Fearless Filipinos and Fearless Potagees . Never have I seen a Fearless Haole . I thought about getting a Fearless Norwegian-Irish-German-Scots Irish-Native American-poi dog- whatevah decal, but couldn't see where that might fit. No, the back of my pants is not an option. That would require removal of my Wide Load sign and endanger everyone. The Eddie went today. That's the Eddie Aikau Invitational big wave surfing competition. Eddie was a renowned big wave ride...

Check out this story. Really, just click on the link. I know you'll marvel at what you read. What does Forrest Gump say? Stupid is as stupid does? Next time I find myself lying on the road in the middle of a dark night with my head on the white shoulder line, I hope no good Samaritan calls the cops to help me out. This happened within walking distance of my house. You've heard the expression 'brain drain?' I think the intellectual contents of this rainforest sink we call Glenwood has long been circling. This morning we had a bit of a scare. Our neighbor John took a tumble into the bushes right across from the end of our driveway. John wears a leg brace and has only one functioning arm, so he could not get up. My dog Doc barked ferociously, sounding the panic alarm. He knows John and watches for him to deliver our paper every morning. Touser , the neighbor's crazy terrier, yapped too. Good dogs! Who knows how long John may have languished there in t...

What a nice, low-key Thanksgiving. It didn't rain and while the sun was not blazing, it felt nice to dry off. We've enjoyed some cooler weather of late. Around here, that's an overall dip of about five degrees across the low-high graph. It's enough to have silenced the coquis. All's quiet now in the mauka (toward the mountain) rainforest, except for the geckos and a few winged insects that make buzzy noises. I didn't mind the coquis so much, since we had so few of them. The few will not likely become millions up here, as it has at lower elevations on the island. Of course, there is that whole global warming phenomenon to consider. We spent much of the late morning and early afternoon indoors cooking, or at least I did, so it might as well have rained, though I'm not complaining that it didn't. No way. What took hours to cook was devoured in a flash, a fury of forkfuls stuffing our pie holes. We have some leftovers, sure, and pie too, with whippe...

Right now, it's not raining. The early morning was glorious. I zipped up hill to the Volcano Farmers' Market, which has become a hangout of sorts for me on Sundays. The air was cool enough to justify my long pants and sleeves, like early autumn in the Great Pacific Northwest. The place was packed. It's always busy, but today was especially so, a hive pulsing with busy bee activity. The sticky bun lady ran out of sticky buns by 7:30. I arrived at 7:35, so had to settle for cherry turnovers. Not a bad concession. I'm suppose to be writing. I have two vague story prompts rattling around inside my head, ideas that are products of my memory and life. I want to write these stories. I do. I'm also scared to death of both of them. I'm a big chicken. There's a reason I don't write non-fiction. It takes cojones and, truth be told, I ain't got any. Never did. I'll ski the headwall at Crested Butte, but truthful writing, even in the form ...

The fun just keeps coming here with mom on the rock. On Sunday, we shopped for swim suits. A Phillips screw driver hammered into my ear would have been more enjoyable. Once I'd exhausted all the likely contenders (none of which I purchased), we moved on to jog bras. Much easier. There were a few alternative styles I'd never tried before and, having taken up residence in the fitting room and feeling quite cozy in there, I opted to try them on. Mom ferried them to me from the rack. She passed one through the door that looked a little small. Idiot that I am, I tugged it on anyway, trusting that she'd chosen the right size, never thinking to check it before donning the dud. Jeepers ! I thought I was going to need the jaws of life to get the thing off. Some serious jumping was required to gather enough momentum to break free. Anyone who's ever tried to remove a really sweaty one knows what I mean. Just then, she arrived at the door with several more. "Here,...

Mom and I busted up the highway today. We cruised to Tom the Baker's to eat malasadas the size of Volkswagen's , then yonder on to Hawi and Kapa'au . There, we hung with the spirit of King Kamehameha and looked at some pretty Pololu Valley scenery. Lunch was nice at Bamboo. We caught a fantastic, Rose Festival rival of a parade along Ali'i Drive in Kailua - Kona . That's a wee exaggeration . It was a modest, fun, community affair. No roses. But there were kids on trikes, Knights of Columbus wearing fuzzy hats and school children dressed as pirates. It's Kona Coffee Festival week here on the west side, so they're celebrating the bean. It's actually a seed, from a fruit. They're celebrating none-the-less. Curry at Thai Rin was yummy. So were the Haagen - Dazs bars we grabbed at the gift store and are now digesting, tired, warm and happy, in our free upgraded, ocean-front room. It's been a hoot of day. Stellar. Mom's watch...

My BFF Lisa ( Best Fairbanks Friend) challenged me in a recent email to use the word horticulture in a sentence. How's this: You can lead a horticulture, but you can't make her appreciate it. Lisa also mentioned someone famous named Dorothy Parker . Famous to most people that is, but not to me, literary dilettante that I am. So I looked her up and now vow (brown cow) to read her stuff. She sounds funny, like someone I'd have liked to jaw with over a latte. Too bad she's already punted the pail as they say. Well, that's how I say it. The groggy doggy Doctor dog and I made our way to the vet for a clean bill of health yesterday without too much trauma. I may now be deaf in my right ear from his high decibel whining, but otherwise we're fine. He's eleven years old now and needs an extra oomph to jump onto the bed these days, not to mention a ramp to get into the truck. He's also still a Satan -possessed psycho mutt, but otherwise sweet and sprig...

It's a sad state of affairs in Hawaii. Here, in the birthplace of our president - a walking example of what a good education can do for you if you apply yourself - kids are being shortchanged big time. The teachers union has agreed and the legislature sanctioned something called furlough Fridays. Public schools in hawaii are now closed on Fridays and remain so for the next 12 weeks of school. It's unclear now whether the kids will attend the requisite number of days required for federal funding under No Child Left Behind. Many have asked why the teachers can't just take the pay cut they agreed to and still work those Fridays. That's what people who work for private industry are doing these days. (Those lucky enough to still be working anyway.) The teachers make an eloquent argument. You wouldn't ask a lawyer or doctor or accountant or other professional to work days for free, they say. We too are professionals, they argue, and should not be expected to d...

Yesterday, we borrowed a neighbor's expandable ladder and schlepped it across the road. I toted the front end - or at least walked in front, for who knew which end was really which - and Ron carried the back. We stretched and leaned it against the gutter. I ascended, the aluminum steps and rails stiff and unyielding under my feet and hands. I liked that. My pockets were stuffed with tools and my head with plans to take down the tilting antenna. It sagged at a precarious angle, ready to tumble. We decided it would be best to remove it before it fell and impaled someone. Like me, for example. Rusty, yes, but the bracket was still stronger than I or the screwdriver or wrench or hammer or whatever else I held in my wimpy little hands. I grunted. It was no use. "Shoots," as they say here in paradise. The bolts were fused with chunks rusted away, so I couldn't get a grip. We hoisted up the reciprocal saw fitted with a hack blade and I cut the thing into manag...

One of the best things about shopping at Costco is the samples. At the end of almost every aisle, you'll find a cheerful, apron-clad, white-hatted person - usually a woman - doling out some goodie or other; a new juice in tiny paper cups, a slice of some new smoked ham on a cracker, a bite-sized hunk of granola bar. Sadly, it was one of those very offerings yesterday, there within those hallowed warehouse halls, that sparked a pang of internal angst regarding the level of laziness to which we as a species have fallen. One of the women had placed pieces of something from a box into small, wavy-edged cupcake papers. Upon closer inspection, I saw that the something was wedges of hard boiled egg! These were prepackaged hard boiled eggs. Eggs already hard boiled FOR YOU. Each one is individually wrapped inside the box. I'm still reeling. It was good to get out of the rain for the day, eat a fresh malasada and some cheap-but-OK-for-the-price sushi. Other than the eggs and...

October 1 marks the start of the wet season here in Hawaii. Oh goodie. Here in beautiful Glenwood, mud capital of the Pacific, we received 107.46 inches by month's end August. Stats for September aren't in yet, but today's deluges (there were several), should put us well on our way to a fat, 200-inch year. Did you know that algae can grow on car paint? Mold too. Our cars don't get dirty in the traditional sense here. They just grow creeping, slimy plant and animal life. Ferns sprout from the house gutters. As I drove home from tutoring this afternoon, squinting through the water-logged windshield, I cranked the volume to hear the radio over the din of the fast, fwap fwap of the wiper blades. Some cheesy song played, lamenting the crooner's location somewhere on the cold, snowy mainland. She longed melodically for sunny Hawaii. I wanted to poke out the dial, to jab it with the point of my enormous, still dripping unbrella, but I was driving. To grasp the ...

Speed bumps. You know them, those jolting bars of raised blacktop placed across roadways or in parking lots to control drivers' speed. Today, I traveled a long, lonely road to my pal Steve's farm. He wants me to write some copy for his new website. I've been buying his jams and jellies for a couple of years now. Anyway, I couldn't help but noticing the placards warning motorists along the way of those sharp rises in the pavement. Diamond shaped and yellow, they look like yield signs but say, "speed hump." That's what they call them here. Speed humps. What an image. There are some in things in life that should not be rushed and humping is one of them. Steve has tiny dogs that dart around in front of the car as you pull in through his gate. I stopped, of course, for fear of hitting them, and the gate closed on my car door. It's a thrash and bash mobile, so no harm was done. He waved me in, shouting, "Don't worry. They're fast. ...

The tradewinds are dead, dead, dead this morning and the vog , like Old Man River, just keeps on rollin ' alo -o-o- ong . Our zucchini leaves will be fried before noon. Cilantro? Fugettaboutit ! It's history. Lettuce? No chance. On Saturday night, Ron was watching something on the History channel while I was, as always, parked on the couch, legs crossed Indian style as we used to say (though I'm sure that's no longer PC) with my laptop, believe it or not, on my lap. The announcer made a reference to Casanova . Ron rose from his spot and headed to the kitchen to get himself a beer. This was an anomaly , since that's typically my job. He stopped en route , right in front of me, and stuck his gut out as far as he could, swaying his back just a bit for added effect. I looked up. "What do you think? Could I be a Casanova ?" he asked, a goofy grin plastered just below the mustache. "Maybe a casse role ," I said. Yeah, it was hilarious...

We were on our way to town the other day - we needed beer and wanted papayas - listening to that venerable radio news source, NPR. They're professional. They're knowledgeable. Master journalists. The two anchors talked about the exploits of a firm owned by Blackwater , the company doing work in Iraq. I'll admit I tuned out for a moment, mentally that is, my mind somewhere far away. As I stared through the window, the woman's voice faded, to become vague and distant, obscured by the whir of passing trucks with over-sized mud tires. Then, a single word wrangled my attention away from the buzz of traffic, the passing foliage, the dashboard squeaks. "Did she just say, ' subsiderary ?'" I asked. "Yes, I think she did," Ron said. "Un-f#$@%^ believable," I said. I didn't say that out loud of course, because that would be crude and classless, but I thought it. OK maybe I said it. The male voice followed, using the same w...