This Very Bumpy Road

 

Copyright © 2021

by Ralph F. Couey

As anyone who had done it can attest, the process of buying a house is anything but soothing.  There always seems to be that last-minute demon that leaps astride what minutes before seemed to be a clear path.

Tuesday afternoon, I undertook the challenging task of cleaning out the refrigerator, that periodic journey of discovering which leftovers are edible, and which should be relegated to someone's science experiment.  It was going well, but as I piled the newly-emptied Tupperware in the sink, I noticed that the water wasn't draining.  I got out the Drano, but that had no effect.  I retrieved a newly-purchased but as yet unused plunger and went to work on the sink drains.  It was an interesting effect.  When centered squarely over the drain, there was a perfect vacuum, which meant that the drain was completely clogged.  So I did the traditional Couey male rescue.  I called a plumber.

The guy came within 90 minutes, and without delay went to work.  Oddly, he didn't snake the kitchen drain.  Instead, he went outside where the drain pipe passed through the wall and opened up an access port.  There, as you see in the picture, he discovered that the pipe was completely filled with...gunk, I guess, the accumulation of some 66 years of whatever had passed through those pipes.  He then wormed his way into the crawlspace, where the access to all the plumbing was.  There, he found that the pipe that ran from the kitchen drain to the central drain under the center of the house was similarly plugged.  At the other end, the pipe, corroded beyond resurrection, simply broke.

The crawlspace is common to all Hawai'i houses, and provides an easy way to access the house's infrastructure.  You couldn't do this in the mainland.  The pipes would never survive the winter.

Cheryl told me some stories about how she and her siblings would undertake adventures in that place.  But there are risks.  If you have rats, that's where they're going to live.  Also, roaches, spiders, centipedes and all the other critters endemic to a tropical environment like to live there.  But we had the house tented last year, and whatever was in that application is still doing its job.  The plumber reported, with great relief, that he encountered no living things while under the house. Not even kids.

A Moment; A Memory

 

Copyright © 2021

by Ralph F. Couey

Throughout our lives, we acquire memories, things that have happened or that we've witnessed, events that have been indelibly stamped in our minds.  They are an eclectic mix of magnificence and mortification, that have in so many ways defined the path we've traveled.

Some memories we call up, an moment of purposeful recollection.  Others lie dormant, until one day they spontaneously jump out at us, like a crazy housecat, demanding our immediate attention.

This evening, I was at work reading a paper on the USGS website about volcanoes.  It was written in heavy scientific jargon, and it was slow going.  I took a break and while I was resting my brain, one of those snippets from the past jumped up.

It was the summer of 2002.  I had been struggling with multiple issues of job and self-worth.  I had completed my second bachelor's degree and had applied for a job with the intelligence community.  One of those agencies had responded and I had ridden that particular horse with growing excitement until I received a devastating call that I hadn't made the final cut.

To say I was disappointed utterly fails to define what I felt.  Much of that was anger, I now realize, and I stomped around the house for a week or so, making everyone else miserable.  Cheryl then stepped in, and with that marvelous insight of being able to read me like a book, said in no uncertain terms that enough was enough.  "You get on the motorcycle, go west, and don't come back until you've found your smile."

It took about a week and a half to get everything ready, but on a surprisingly cool July morning, I rolled out of the driveway and departed on a 9-day adventure that was one of the most healing experiences of my life.

Riding the Roller Coaster of Events

 

Copyright © 2021

by Ralph F. Couey

Looking back over the past six weeks or so, has been like racing through the dark aboard a very fast train.  We have been extraordinarily busy, consumed by multiple obligations, not the least of which has been the purchase of Cheryl's mother's house, and coincidentally, the Yanamura ancestral family home.  Every once in a while, I look up, catching glimpses here and there of the rest of life as it whizzes past the windows.  The good news, is that I think we're in the home stretch.  All the required paperwork has been filed, or will be in the next 24 hours.  Closing is set for <gulp> this Friday or Saturday.  

In a perfect world, I would have taken some time off to prepare.  But a deteriorating staffing crisis at work has put me (and my colleagues) in the position of not being able to be away.  So, I'm galloping along  with about 5 hours of sleep per night, trying to balance some very large plates on some very small sticks.  Looking at my weekly walking mileage and how it has dwindled of late enforces how little time I've had for any other pursuits.  My usual place of decompression, Hale'iwa Beach Park, has only seen me once during this period.  The memory of that couple of hours looms large in my mind.  

It was a warmer day, as winter in Hawai'i goes, and the breeze was calm.  For the first day in weeks, there was no large swell coming in from the broad reaches of the North Pacific, so the surface of the water was almost flat, and the surf coming ashore arrived with barely a whisper.  I set up in my usual spot, surprised that there was almost nobody there.  The surf schools, of course, weren't teaching.  I saw only two small families, both speaking in languages I would hesitatingly describe as Nordic.  The day was bright and clear, and as I gazed out from the shore, I could see a countless number of diamond-like points of light as the water caught and reflected the sunlight.  Sea turtles were active among the rocks close to shore, and it was a treat to watch them gracefully glide around, occasionally sticking their heads up for a quick look-see.  A palm log, a piece of debris from the cascade of flooding rains that ran rampant throughout the state a couple of weeks prior.  It bobbed and weaved close ashore, never quite reaching the beach.  Towards the end of my stay, the tide began to recede, and the log headed out to sea.  It was a perfect, quiet day, and for a short time, my cares and worries fell away.

I left in time to come home to make dinner, although I admitted to Cheryl that it was a difficult parting.  I would have loved to stay until sunset.

I would have made a great beach bum.

There are living in Diamond Head Crater a sizeable herd of feral cats.  Most were trapped and removed last fall, after some cat-hater who hated that we were feeding them sub rosa, called animal control.  But one managed to elude the dragnet.  It's a female orange tabby who seems way too friendly to be feral.  It could be that the cat was brought into the crater and abandoned.  Anyway, she hides out during the day, but once the sun goes down, she appears on the front steps of our building.  Of course, we are feeding her.  I named her "Pumpkin," because she is orange.  Over time, our relationship has improved.  At first, my attempts to pet her resulted in some serious claw action.  But now, when she sees me, she purrs and comes up for a scratch.  Pumpkin is a tough cat because there are a lot of other, much less friendly critters (animal and human) that roam around this ancient volcano.  But its nice to have a friendly, furry animal around.  

Bulking Up...Kinda

 © 2021 by Ralph F. Couey

It's a rare member of the male gender who doesn't at one point look in the mirror and get the urge to pump iron. For some, that desire strikes in adolesence while for others it may hit during adulthood. The motivation generally sources from competition. For the most part, (and

this may be a hazardous generalization) girls dig muscles. But there's also the desire to be

respected by other men, especially in a business environment where a lean, taut appearance is

part of what is expected. You know, survival of the fittest.

I've never been a part of that. Up until a year ago, I was always...um...large. But I did three things. I had a lap band put in, I lost 200 pounds, and then had the excess skin removed. While I'm far from model material, I am way leaner now. I've been exercising regularly since 2012, running, and then out of respect for my joints, briskly walking. My mileage is down this year because I just don't have the time like I used to. Still, I'm managing between 10 and 15 miles each week. Point being, my legs are in great shape. But I've done next to nothing with any other part.

I asked around and got some valuable opinions on dumbbells vs. kettlebells, and after searching and researching, I decided on a set of adjustable dumbbells by the fitness giant Bowflex. They'll adjust up to 60 lbs each, using a dial system. The box was delivered, and getting them in the house was a challenge. Once inside, I read the instruction manual, and then turned to a workout program I downloaded.

Since I had never done upper body work, I took things easy for the first three weeks. Once I was comfortable that those muscles were better toned, I upped the weight and intensity. I've been at this for about two months, and I'm beginning to see results. Not that I'm getting all bulgy, but when I have to lift or move things, its much easier. When I'm doing any kind of arm work, I have way more stamina. This really show up when I'm practicing my bodhran, that Irish frame drum. Playing a long set of fast jigs requires the ability not only to last, but to play accurately. I can do that better now.

The most surprising thing is that after all this time, my enthusiasm hasn't waned. Not only do I do the lifting 6 days out of seven, I still look forward to the challenge. This is a healthy thing for me, and if I'm faithful to my regimen, the long term benefits will be very good, and may add a year or two to my stay on this little planet.

If I can manage my time better, I'll add things like planks and crunches to the routine. I can then realize a better affect on the whole carcass. Like a lot of journeys, I'm not exactly sure where this will end up. But the greatest value is always in the journey.

Of course, there are the other things. The other evening, we were sitting on the couch watching TV. Cheryl distractedly wrapped her hand around my bicep. Suddenly she stopped, and squeezed the muscle. She then looked up, smiled, and said, "Wow!"

Like I said. Chicks dig muscles.