We’ve just tallied a record-setting sum of nine almost familiar entrapped pigs this season. We can see that  these invaders come in three  or more basic sizes: huge males, almost as huge males, and an occasional medium-sized sow. Breaking a recent tradition of grand sized pigs , however, our most recent catch had ample room to frolic in the cage. He was a medium-sized male, and the noisiest to date. We were told that he’d  probably tip the scale at a modest 100 pounds, less robust than the last two boars who who were well on their way to 150 pounds, if not more. When we asked a few times...

I never bought much online when I lived on the mainland.  Not one single thing in my 20’s in New York or during my four years in Pennsylvania. That’s when Amazon was still known best as a long river, not far from the Selym River (family joke). I just checked the date: and Amazon.com was incorporated July 5th, 1994, in Seattle, not that far from where I once lived in Beaverton, Oregon…  but very, very far from the second longest river in the world. Take note that there was some name changing that took place — the original name for Amazon was Cadabra, Inc. which got dropped...

Earlier this morning, my dear friend Marylyn and I were texting about sneaking in sweet treats while riding on public transportation, and it reminded me of an old favorite I just can’t find here. True, there are lots of mainland specialties sold on my island in the middle of the Pacific, but there’s a very limited market share for the prune danishes I used to devour on the PATH train when I commuted to New Jersey. Prune danishes! I read that one of my heroines, Ruth Bader Ginsburg, likes to nibble on prunes when she’s reading. But they’re not quite as scrumptious as my elusive...

Uncommonly uncoordinated, I have immense admiration for the women upstairs at the gym who contort themselves in unimaginable stretches, as I meekly press forward on machines. I’m racing against time with uncooperative muscles that won’t get me on a train I could miss. Lately, I’ve developed a curious habit of trying to guess how old these athletic apprentices are. One woman who looks like she could easily join the Rockettes or at least pass the entrance exam, told me she was 25. Ah, to be 25 again. But even when I was 25 and joined the tennis crowd high in the sky in New York, I...

My old gym in Oregon was, you could say, ranch-style. Exercise machines, stretch areas, refreshments, and a swimming pool set on one expansive level. It’s different here at my gym. We have two floors, and one can only be inhabited by women, with occasional brief visits by Alex, the owner’s wonderful younger brother, who helps us all out. The women’s floor is on top, with machines, stretch areas, and lots of chit chat. Downstairs, where men dabble with the free weights, we also have our Silver and Fit classes, which aren’t nearly as old ladyish as their name implies. Here we work...

This blog post is a sequel to “The Pigs are Coming,” June, 2017 Mama and her little sow (a sowlette?) were the first beasts enticed by the mashed lilikoi/avocado bait laced with macadamian nuts that Jeff set out in an extremely durable metal cage. So intrigued that they were led by their tummies and ignored the conspicuous metal webbing of the cage and gobbled up the entree and tripped the wire set to ensure their permanent residency, which is my way of saying that they were trapped. Two down, how many to go? Our first pig, who became known as Mama, had beautiful brown eyes and weighed...