Sep 8, 2005 | Uncategorized |
Mike had a four day weekend. Friday, we goofed off (dinner at Jackie Chan's and Ala Moana shopping). Saturday, we goofed off (Costco, Best Buy, Home Depot). Sunday, we goofed off (Comp USA). Sunday night, we still goofed off, but we took a Hawaii newcomer to Waikiki. He was appropriately bowled over by such sights as the sunset and the walk-through aquarium at the DFS Galleria. And, like us when we first arrived, he still can't quite wrap his mind around the fact that he lives here now.
It's a lot to take in when you arrive, especially since you usually end up in Waikiki at some point fairly early in the game (first night for me when Mike took me to the Hale Koa for dinner and then we walked the beach from Fort Derussy to the Duke Kahanamoku statue). In fact, you can see a live view of Duke and the surrounding beach here. Duke is the original surfer dude.
Waikiki belongs to the tourists for the most part. But you still see locals strolling the sidewalks and enjoying the views. Sometimes they even bring their pets:
I've seen these people before, once in front of the Hilton Hawaiian with the cat in a sling, riding like a baby strapped to its mother's chest. I didn't have the camera with me that day. That picture was a hundred times better than this one. The kitty is on a leash, though you can't see that here. He didn't seem to mind the crowds or the noise in the least bit. The best pet sight I ever saw, though, was in Paris. Mind you, I was eighteen, lit up on Beaujolais and the joy of being sans parents in the City of Light when my college friend and I saw a dog in a diaper strolling along past the Louvre. If you've ever been to Paris, and had to dodge the piles of dog shit on the sidewalks, you'll know how extraordinary this sight was. I didn't know that Parisiens let their dogs crap everywhere that day, but it didn't matter. A dog in a diaper is hysterical to a tipsy teenager no matter what. It was almost as good as the old pervert in the trench coat who wanted to pay my friend and me to take pictures of him naked. Perhaps he wanted to take pictures of us and just got his translation wrong, but it was amusing nonetheless. He assured us he had a “very large p*nis” but, alas, we refused. (No, I am not afraid to use the word, but I'd hate to see the hits I'd get with that particular search phrase.) 😉
As for writing? None accomplished this past week. I feel sort of like the sting ray here, pressed against the glass and wondering why I can't move forward. I haven't found the mindset again. The muse is gamboling in a forest far, far away. This weekend is RWA. No guest speakers, though. We're having a Maui Writers' Conference report from the members who attended. Should be fun, I think. Next month is Steve Goldsberry, UH professor, multi-published author, and author of a new title from Writer's Digest called The Writer's Book of Wisdom.
Sep 6, 2005 | Uncategorized
If you're a romance writer, you're probably familiar with Charlotte Dillon's wonderful website for writers. Charlotte is from Louisiana and was affected by Katrina. Follow this link to help her out….
Another good link is the Episcopal Diocese of Mississippi's list of needed items if you want to box something up and send it to those in need. Also, the Episcopal Relief and Development website is a good place to contribute. These are just a couple of sites in addition to the usual places people go to donate.
Family update: Grandma is well. Middle brother had to go track her down and make sure. She wasn't where the Red Cross said she was, so he camped out at their doorstep until they found her. Youngest brother is in Georgia with his family. He went back to Louisiana to rescue their kitties too. He and I haven't spoken in over 10 years (long story), but he's a good person and I'm glad he's well.
Middle brother had to buy a generator for the house because they still don't have power. No damage, but no power either.
Sep 1, 2005 | Uncategorized
Larissa Ione is an ex-AF meteorologist, Coast Guard spouse, and fellow writer who has lost her Gulfport, MS, home and all her belongings due to Hurricane Katrina. The writing community, always willing to help one of its own, is swinging into gear here. If you would like to help, follow the link.
And if you live in a coastal area and think hurricane insurance covers your loss, think again. Apparently, storm surges aren't covered. So now I'm off to check my coverage….
Sep 1, 2005 | Uncategorized
When I was 12, my parents put me and my brothers (ages 8 and 6) on a Trailways bus in Little Rock, Arkansas. Destination: New Orleans.
At the other end of that long journey was Grandma, Aunt Sharon (who was two years younger than me), Grandma's sister Ruby, and Ruby's daughter Renee.
I was terrified and excited all the same. I doubt you'd put three kids on a bus today, but this was 1980 and life didn't seem as scary. Or maybe it was more so since we didn't have cell phones or Internet connections. Just me and two boys riding that bus across the endless cotton fields of Arkansas, eating sandwiches with butter and tomatoes and ham, and sitting crammed together in seats meant to hold two people. This was my doing because I was afraid to get split up.
The day was long, the miles trickling away beneath the bus as we rolled through cotton country and then on down into Louisiana. The bus tickets said “LA” on them, and I kept thinking it sounded so glamorous. LA, like in California. Except we were going to Louisiana, land of alligators and French-speaking Cajuns, a place I'd never been before and a place my brothers barely remembered (we were a smaller Brady Bunch–a man with two boys marries a lady with one daughter). Louisiana was as exotic to me then as any foreign country could be.
The sun was down long before we got to New Orleans. By then, I'd loosened up enough to let one of my brothers move into the seat across the aisle so we could spread out. I don't remember the ride into the Big Easy, don't really remember the lights and sights, but I do remember that scary bus terminal and the four people standing there waiting for us when we climbed down those big bus steps. My brothers broke into a run, yelling, “Grandma! Grandma!” I was more dignified, approaching at a slower pace, nodding politely, happy to hand off the baggage claim and wait for someone else to find our suitcases.
We piled into a big black van, two women and five kids, and left New Orleans behind as we crossed the Lake Ponchartrain Causeway (a 25 mile bridge they told me, but it was dark and I couldn't see the water). God knows how long it took, but we finally reached Mandeville on the north shore of Ponchartrain and settled in for the next month. I didn't see New Orleans again until my parents came the last week and the three of us took a day trip.
I've been to the Big Easy only one other time, and I loved it. I hope it will all be put right again. New Orleans is a treasure, and one we shouldn't lose.
Things have changed a lot since my first visit. Grandma lives in a nursing home now, but she is okay. Aunt Ruby's house has a little tree damage. My middle brother lives in Grandma's old house two blocks from Ponchartrain. He said they could only walk to it because there are so many trees down, but the house is unscathed and there's no flooding though a neighbor has 10 inches of water in his living room. The youngest brother and his family are heading for Texas. I think Renee still lives with her mother. Sharon died in 1982 at the age of 12.
God bless everyone on the Gulf Coast.
Aug 30, 2005 | Uncategorized
Friday, when Mike got home from work, I said, “Let's go to Ala Moana and get something to eat.”
So, he changed out of his uniform and we drove downtown. Traffic was worse going into town than I thought, but we finally reached the mall and found parking right away. The food court is really good, believe it or not. It has the typical mall food court places, but then it also has a wide variety of local stuff, including the Poi Bowl, which has yummy kalua pig. I opted for that while Mike got roast beef and fried rice from another vendor. After we ate, he patiently sat on a bench while I went inside my favorite store.
Williams-Sonoma has atmosphere. I love it. I love the smells and sights, the way the appliances and goodies are arranged. I love the CDs, the olive oils you can taste, the batters and mixes and jars of exotic stuff from other countries. Mike doesn't like it at all. Getting him inside that place takes an extraordinary act of persuasion. He doesn't mind sitting on the bench outside, however. This is okay until I want something. And then I either have to go out and talk to him or call him, one cell phone to another across a space of thirty feet or so. Silly.
This time, however, I found a cake pan that was marked down and I wanted it. I didn't call or go outside, I just bought it. He didn't care, which is his point anyway. I always want to involve him, but he doesn't care one way or the other. Why do women do that? Every woman I know does it, though I am sure there are plenty who don't.
After my extravagant $13 purchase, we went to Dairy Queen and got a shake. Mike said, “Hey, why don't we go over to the beach and drink these?”
“Okay.”
So we went across the street to the Ala Moana beach park. It's not in Waikiki, though it's close. We dragged out the beach chairs we always keep in the Jeep and went to sit on the sand. The sunset was typically beautiful, though the sun is too far to the right to see it set from there this time of year. In winter, you can see it perfectly from the south facing shores. (Here is the point where I tried to upload another picture, but Blogger has ideas of its own these days. I used to be able to put three pictures in a post and now I can only get one in. Piece of shit.)
We sat for a long time, until it was dark and the stars were out. (I took the picture of Venus.) Mike had binoculars and he kicked the chair back and stared up into the sky. In spite of the light pollution from Honolulu, he still manged to find a couple of Messier objects. One was a star cluster, and I believe the other was the Trifid Nebula.
And then I remembered that the Hilton had begun setting off fireworks on Fridays again. At eight o'clock, we turned our chairs toward Waikiki. Not a minute later, the first fireworks went off. It didn't last long, but it was nice. We packed up after and headed home. Before we reached home, however, we had another adventure. This one involved a big bad highway and a tiny kitten. I'll blog about that another time, but don't worry, Admiral Nimitz (Nimmy for short) is doing fine.
It's a lot to take in when you arrive, especially since you usually end up in Waikiki at some point fairly early in the game (first night for me when Mike took me to the Hale Koa for dinner and then we walked the beach from Fort Derussy to the Duke Kahanamoku statue). In fact, you can see a live view of Duke and the surrounding beach here. Duke is the original surfer dude.