k-brow: turning energy around

True to form, Hawai'i is delivering the perfect summer weather that makes me want to stay here forever, or at least until my 4-seasons soul starts longing for winter. Perfect clean mornings, washed by the nighttime rains. Soft breezes scented with plumeria.Yellow flowers that can't help but make me smile. A lot. Though I'm still embroiled in getting ready to move, and am delaying my days of beach lounging this week until after Friday, there's that promise, too.

I think I'm about to turn a corner, finally, in this packing, though it's the little stuff that remains, and little things can be daunting, too. Still, I'm enjoying the solitude, the little excursions to dump recycling, go to Goodwill, run the dogs. The Nu'uanu schoolyard has been utterly empty, mowing has ceased, and so the grass and clover have been lush, making it an altogether pleasant place to hang out with dogs.

I've knit so little in recent days. The mojo has departed, which is unfortunate, though I can only guess that it'll return after all my furniture is gone and I have no tv. Then I'll have to take it to a cafe, I guess. Though I am saving our most comfortable camping chair to stay here with me, and it looks like I'll be around until at least the 25th, due to contractor slowness. That's okay. I don't mind. I've got FLS to finish, a scarf that is a gift for my dogs' sitter, the long-missing-shoulda-been-finished-by-now Neapolitan second sock, and the Simple Yet Effective Shawl, and the Cursed Koigu Chevron Scarf to finish. All, except for FLS, small projects that pretty much fit into one little bag, and will do me until September or so, when my stash and Earthly Possessions return to me in Atlanta

Megan gave me a loaf of homebaked sourdough a couple of days ago, and I've been pretty much living off it. So much for La Vida Low-Carb, which will have to wait til Atlanta. This bread is amazing, and I have been just eating it with unsalted butter, for the most part, with the occasional cornichon pickle or slice of feta. I've never tried baking sourdough before, preferring the dense, honeyed whole wheat offerings of the Tassajara Bread Book, but this bread makes me wonder if that's a direction I want to explore... A perusal of Megan's blog (check out those Day Geckos!) reveals that she's done a lot of trial and error experimentation to get this fabulousness. Still, yum.

I'm trying to turn some energy around here, today, by getting as much extraneous stuff out of the house as possible. Old towels going to the Humane Society, a recycling run, more stuff to Goodwill, bulky things kicked out to the curb for the trash guys to get this week. I think, as more stuff flows up the steps and off the property, the packing will flow. I've written in the past about this place being kind of an energetic sink, it's at the bottom of a very steep hill, where things can flow in, but don't always cycle out, mostly because one needs to carry them up the 31 steps to get them out. It has made it hard to be motivated to purge. My own energy is up, though, and in spite of a low-key headache, which I think will unwind with exercise, (though not necessarily heavy lifting) I feel like I can face it today.

k-brow: shoyu eggs

When P and I were traveling in Indonesia, years ago, we used to eat a lot of Padang food. Padang is a style of meal, where the foods are served in many little dishes, curries, sambals, fried rices, etc. One of my favorite Padang dishes is the curried egg. An egg is hard boiled, then peeled and cooked again in the curry sauce. I've made these curried eggs, and they are quite wonderful, but I didn't want to make curry, in this heat, so I made some shoyu tamago. Or maybe it's tamago shoyu...soy sauce eggs:
This treat couldn't be simpler. Hard boil and peel 4 eggs. Mix together the following ingredients:

2Tbsp shoyu
1 tsp sesame oil
1 tsp grated ginger
pinch of cinnamon
1 Tbsp rice vinegar or mirin
1/2 cup strong green or black tea

My own recipe was really more or less to taste. One needn't be so precise.

Put the peeled eggs in a ziplock bag and pour the sauce over them. Zip it up and set it all in a bowl. Turn it occasionally to ensure even distribution of the sauce. Let marinate for 24 hours. Or however long you can wait. Then take out, slice and eat. Yum.

k-brow: bucking up

I am cooking up a big pot of dog stew in the kitchen: soft meaty pork neck bones, chicken hearts and gizzards, mung beans, barley, celery and sweet potatoes. In my efforts to eat up all the food in the house, I'm having to actually shop for food to complete recipes and meals. Meh. It's stretching my kibble out, anyway. I love cooking for my dogs. When the high-end kibble that I typically feed my dogs started basically doubled in price from what I'd paid for it on the mainland, I realized that there was no obstacle to my going out, shopping the farmers markets and Chinatown, and cooking up stews and brews for my beasts. Everything that comes here by boat, in a container, is expensive. Local (or local-ish, in the case of chicken and pork) is fairly affordable.

It's been a tough week. Last week, as we were gutting out the rotted wood in the bathroom, we found live termites crawling up and down the doorframe. I'd hoped to avoid this scenario, particularly as these guys were identified as subterranean termites, as opposed to drywood termites. Our house had been fumigated for drywood 'mites and we had a warranty for that type of treatment. Naturally, this particular infestation wasn't covered by warranty. Arrgh. Another spendy step on the road to selling this house!

Social insects fascinate me.

The 'mites, the continued rat trapping, (which has been successful, I suppose) and endless grind of sorting, purging, packing and cleaning, without feeling like I've yet turned a corner, is a grind. The corner will come, soon, I think, as we resume some contracted work later this week. Lacking a corner, combined with the endless chipping away, has made me sad. The sadness has been layered with the sadnesses of deaths, hither and yon. The passing of Farrah Fawcett and Michael Jackson - icons of my teen years, the death of a dear friend of my mother, last week, and today, the passing of Jake, Reya's beloved gold puppy... Death draws lines, divides our lives into eras. The "before" and the "after" phases.
I want sweetness, light, gentle healing, for my mother, my friend, myself.
I want this:

Honey At The Table

It fills you with the soft
essence of vanished flowers, it becomes
a trickle sharp as a hair that you follow
from the honey pot over the table

and out the door and over the ground,
and all the while it thickens,

grows deeper and wilder, edged
with pine boughs and wet boulders,
pawprints of bobcat and bear, until

deep in the forest you
shuffle up some tree, you rip the bark,

you float into and swallow the dripping combs,
bits of the tree, crushed bees - - - a taste
composed of everything lost, in which everything lost is found.

- Mary Oliver

I keep my pictures on iPhoto as a screensaver for our desktop computer. The other day, I walked into the office, after the termite discovery fiasco, to see the unexpected picture of my dad on the screen, looking particularly sassy. The shot had been taken the day we moved from Virginia; we'd stopped by my parents' house to spend the night before we drove west. The old man seemed to be saying "buck up" and after the momentary stunned gasp (I so am not prepared to see his face these days, and yet, I cannot remove him from the screensaver - I need this) I guess I bucked up. It's advice that keeps coming 'round. Reya says people are resilient, even as she survives the most awful loss imaginable to a dog lover. I hope to be. Resilient. I embrace the creaking-yet-lively Ella, and savor the moment, her sweetness. She moves away and asks "where's my ice cream?" Dogs are so in the moment, really.

I pine for the pines of Georgia, for the reunification of my primary pack, all under one roof again. For closeness to my family. And I mourn, in advance, already, for the goodbyes that are coming up.

Bucking up here, as best I can.

k-brow: a tune-up

More of the dog ice cream party here. As always, click the pic to biggify.


Listening to lots of progressive rock from the 70's tonight. Renaissance, Genesis, King Crimson, as well as the progs of the New Millenium; Joanna Newsome and The Decemberists. I do love iTunes, particularly to feed the prog-rock fangirl. Yum.

Little else to report. I ate cupcakes. Did a huge recycling run this evening, and took the dogs out. I am slowly finding my mojo again, through sheer necessity.

Lord, but I need a brow wax! Or at least a good sit-down with the tweezers.

k-brow: something for everyone

A little break in the cleaning action, as P returned to HI for a few days to turn 50, and to tie up loose ends. We haven't been especially productive, and have spent the time he's been here, mostly hanging out, or visiting old favorite Oahu haunts. Last night, we went to dinner at Roy's, the restaurant of local boy chef Roy Yamaguchi. Yum. I had the best cocktail I think I've had in a very long time. Later, P ferreted around the internets and found the recipe for me. Maybe to get me to stop talking about it, since it's been a major topic of my obsession, since:

ROY’S HAWAIIAN MARTINI
A signature cocktail and most welcoming beginning to any Roy’s experience.


1 ripe pineapple, rind removed
2 cups Skyy Vodka
1 cup Malibu Coconut Rum
1 cup Stoli Vanil
2 oz simple syrup or liquid sugar

Place one inch slices of pineapple into one gallon container. In a separate container, blend Skyy Vodka, Malibu Rum, Stoli Vanil’ and simple syrup. After sugar is completely dissolved, add to sliced pineapples. Let stand at room temperature for at least three days (the infusion process gives the beverage a subtle pineapple taste). When ready to serve, for each drink, fill a martini shaker with ice, pour in 4 oz. of Hawaiian Martini mix and shake aggressively. Strain into chilled martini glass and garnish with a wedge of fresh pineapple. Serves 6.

I will be making these, for sure!

Father's day is tomorrow, and I have to say, I've never before been conscious by how many ads for dad-type stuff there are out there. I don't know how I'll feel tomorrow. I've been really sad, lately, about my dad; it sneaks up on me, unexpectedly, at times. I'll see little things that remind me of him; a display of gorgeous tomatoes at the farmer's market, a fishing rod at the hardware store. Or I'll hear my mom complaining about a rabbit in the garden, and I'll think of how he'd have recommended just going out and shooting the damn thing. My sweet cousin messaged me on Facebook a few days ago, sending love and support for the coming weekend, and it struck me that we're in the same boat, now. Sometimes I get so caught up in my little shut-in world, that I don't stop to consider how I'm almost never alone, in my situation.

I am cranking out the last rows of the body of Miss February Lady. No idea, really, if it'll fit okay or not, just confident that blocking will erase a world of woes, should it come to that. I've recently come to the conclusion that I am at SABLE (stash acquisition beyond life expectancy) status, and I need never buy yarn again. A happy place for a knitter who's just gone unemployed, unless she's a knitter who likes to shop for yarn, and I do. But last week, as I emptied the yarn dresser out, and lovingly packed those many, many skeins into the two big Rubbermaid tubs, it hit me that I've got lots to knit, in the coming year. And incredibly, nothing which will suffice for the Whisper Cardigan. meh. I've got other things in the pipeline.

Still no move date. The coming week holds some more handyman time with Randall, and some decisions to make about how much home improvement I can afford. I'm still under budget for this place, and for the Atlanta house, too. After a banner week, in which I trapped 4 rats in 4 days, I appear to be done with rats. I know the recent rain may have lured them back outside, though, so I continue to set and place the traps diligently, in hopes of conquering this problem once and for all. I've been locating the rat nests and stashes around the house; mostly under sofas, behind the big green hutch, and in the pantry. I found the gnawed top of my dog biscuit jar, a crime I had wrongly accused Cricket of committing, some weeks ago. I found the remains of my Easter candy, as well as some shredded vacuum cleaner bags in the pantry. Mercifully, the rat bastard left me 3 bags intact, which hopefully will get me through this move and into the Atlanta house.

A friend, a few days ago, was talking about resurrecting her blog, and turning it into a type of gratitude journal. I have a hard time sticking to any one format for my blogging (witness the paltry attention paid to knitting, these days) but this is an idea which intrigues me. Some things that I'm grateful for at the moment:

The NRN
Broken screens as an excuse to run my air conditioning
The cousin, who's been a tremendous moral support to me, lately
Jo Sharp
Showtime On Demand
Tricycle Daily Dharma
The return of Nu'uanu's rains
The plethora of lizards here: skinks, anoles and geckos!

Cricket is grateful for the rare treat of the Frosty Paws canine ice cream. He's a slob, though, and just tosses his trash around.


On to my dinner of chips, guacamole, asparagus, pineapple and ramen noodles. Yes, we are well-fed here at Chez Nu'uanu Estate!

k-brow: sarong living and media check

I'm unemployed at last. With 3 paychecks coming over the next 6 weeks, it could be worse. I finished up at school, and have been trying to muster houscleaning/purging/organizing mojo, with mixed results. The heat and post-school exhaustion have conspired against me, but I'm getting a bit done, and finding my rhythm. Also, continuing to trap rats, and ferret out their little hiding places within my house.

Some lovely knitting in public yesterday, for WWKIP Day, and then Blogless Michelle and I hung out and ran around, picking up a big dog shipping crate for Master Cricket, who will soon be flying the friendly skies to his new home in Atlanta. He'd outgrown the one he'd traveled in from Australia. Blogless' brother-in-law generously gave me one from one that dear, departed Emma had used. I gave him some pinot noir in exchange. Win, win.

One of the great joys of summer and not having to be anywhere in particular, is sarong living. Two years in West Africa and time spent traveling in SE Asia have made me a dedicated sarong wearer. Cooler than a skirt, and somehow more versatile, (it's a dress! a towel! a blanket!) I am all about the sarong these days. Oh yeah, and I'm drinking my coffee iced in the mornings, in an attempt to keep cool.

Crazy violet toenail polish: "Jiggy" by Creative Nail Designs. Some salon stuff I scored via my sister's Beauty Supply connections. I am always all about the shades of purple, these days.

Little else. I have taken advantage of our Showtime On Demand to marathon season 1 of "Dexter" which was grimly pleasing in a rather scary way. I never thought I'd get sucked into a series about a vigilante serial killer, but Dex's do-good attitude about his hobby, and his mad forensic skillz, plus that terrific supporting cast just hooked me. Now it's on to season 2...

This video, Roseanne Cash's "The Wheel," was posted on the Owl's Wings blog a few days ago, and I am just bedazzled by how many tarot images there are in it. I love the song, and adore the tarot-ness of it all. Enjoy.

Rosanne Cash   More CMT Music   More CMT Music Videos

I wonder if it's just some director's brilliant idea, or if Roseanne is an aficianado of the cards?

I'm off to fry some rice for dinner, with veggies. Broccoli, red peppers, edamame n' bacon! Yeah, I know...bacon's not a vegetable.

k-brow: hillbilly exiled

Where would I possibly find enough leather
With which to cover the surface of the earth?
But just leather on the soles of my shoes
Is equivalent to covering the earth with it

Likewise it is not possible for me
To restrain the external course of things
But should I restrain this mind of mine
What would be the need to restrain all else?

—Shantideva

I am a big fan of Tricycle magazine's online Daily Dharma. You can be, too.

School is over, though my work isn't nearly done. Fatigue, crushing heat, and a sore knee forced me to flee early today, after an emotional goodbye to some of my students and their parents. This job, with this age group, drives me crazy. The kids are biologically programmed to rebel and fight me at every turn, but are so young still, that some get teary when they tell me goodbye. Arrrgh. And the parents...I love the parents, all about my age, and funny as hell. Am I glad to quit the job? You betcha. But I'll miss the parents, now, especially now that I'm not accountable to them. And the kids, well, the 11 year old is a thorny, feisty creature.

I came home and slept off my Keneke's food coma in the breezy heat, and then got up and played with the dogs and drank more ice water

I am watching some History Channel marathon of "Hillbillies: The Real Story" about my people. Fascinating stuff. Feeling a little sad that my experience of teaching American History is ended,for the moment, but more than a little jazzed about going back to hillbilly land, if only for a drive-by.

A little shot of a graveyard angel, from my Oahu Cemetary walk:


I promised knitting, and I am a woman of my word:
(click my pix to biggify)
The Simple Yet Effective Shawl, in its tadpole form. A bit of a tedious knit, but I like the stripes caused by alternating skeins. Noro is addictive. Kureyon sock yarn is a bit like knitting with twine, but I know it will soften up.



Miss February Lady, almost done with the body. The true color is the more purple version above, with a little help from the touch-up features of iPhoto. I love this pattern, memorizable lace is a beautiful thing.

I need to go to bed, nap or not. My sleep is all jacked up, still, due mostly to silly aimless naps and coffee drinking and general craziness. But tomorrow is a long, intense day of working my ass off, so I should admit to that, eat a salted caramel and just take myself to bed.