ALIEN TRESPASSER?

Stink Horn Mushroom
(Photo courtesy of Silas K. Aqui)

Aliens already inhabit our planet.

While taking care of his chores the other day, my brother, Charlie, came across one of these extraterrestrials.  I want to share with you his own words...

 I was taking out the trash and looked down below the hedges and spotted this mushroom.  At first, I thought it was a kid's toy and then looked closer and realized it was a live mushroom. I live  next to the wettest spot in the world, Mt. Wai'ale'ale, on the Garden Island of Kauai. This is the second time I've seen this mushroom. As you can see, the stem is a bright orange, and the cap looks like creamy chocolate.

--Silas Kaumakahia Aqui (aka Charlie)

A small army of ants had already been dispatched by their queen to forage this unusual mushroom.  The alluring colors and sticky, stink to humans but aromatic to insects, chocolate-colored cap attracted our six-footed miniature friends.  (If you look closely at the picture or have the ability to zoom in for a close-up, you can see the ants clustered just below the brown cap.)

Indeed, the very action of ants or other living organisms traipsing around in the gooey substance ensures the proliferation of this unusual mushroom.  Spores become attached to the insects because of the slime and are thus rapidly and effectively spread to other areas.

Charlie wasted no time in attempting to identify this new arrival in the yard.  He emailed the mycologists (mushroom experts) at mushroompatch.com and asked them for help in identifying the stranger.

It took the experts four days to respond, but they actually were able to identify the subject.

The mushroom is called a Stink Horn.  The link below will take you to an article with great information about this uncommon mushroom.

http://www.mushroomexpert.com/mutinus_elegans.html
(With acknowledgment and gratitude to Michael Kuo and the mushroomexpert.com staff.)

My brother's sharp eye and follow-up made for another fun-to-write post.  It certainly got me thinking about the possibility someday--another of my bucket list agenda--of hiking around in the Olympic Forest of Washington state and looking for mushrooms.

TOOLS OF THE TRADE

Laptop, Blogger, Cellphone, Tablet, and Venti Caramel Frappucino
Tools of the Trade
(Hawaiian Odysseus photo)

Whenever my brother, Charlie, a creative and talented carpenter, is hired to construct a special project, he has to make sure that his tools are accounted for and in good working order.  Without the assurance of knowing that he is fully equipped to do a good job, he cannot and will not leave home.

Similarly, I am ill-equipped and dysfunctional without my tools of the trade.  

I cannot speak for other bloggers, so I want to make perfectly clear that everything I write in this post are the things that work for me.

With tongue in cheek, but also with a degree of seriousness, the photo above depicts 10% of my tools. The other implements are 80% divine inspiration (a fancy way to describe God kicking me off the couch) and 10% raw nerve.

The laptop, of course, is a biggie.  These computer keys open up portals to a myriad of worlds in my universe.  In the next life, I imagine I will be a travel writer--winging my way from galaxy to galaxy and posting up like a small forward for the Master Editor's heavenly newsletter.  Knowing me, I will boldly ask God to forgo the feather quills and give me the newest Dell notebook instead.  There's something about the tap-tap-tapping of keystrokes that contributes greatly to my daredevil blogging.  Wow!  I actually mentioned God and daredevil in the same paragraph.

My former English professors and grade school teachers would advise me to create rough drafts and use outlines.  Personally, my comfort zone is predominantly comprised of free fall writing--you know, jump out of the airplane with a bare minimum parachute and see where the air currents take me.  Some days, they're balmy trade winds; other days, tyrannical typhoons.  Either circumstance finds me landing on my feet with a pretty decent post.  I'm happy with my own personal voice, and that's what matters most of all.

(A distracting aside:  Some of my best stuff started out with a first sentence, perhaps even a first paragraph...nah!  make that a first page! of nothing but aimless wandering.  Then again, maybe that's what the meditationalists try to inspire--an emptying of the mind.  A mental purge.  Throw-up on paper.  And then the purity and clarity of creation can take place.  Who knows?  I'm just aimlessly wandering and getting a kick out of taking you along for the ride.)

One of the funniest sitcoms on television that entertained millions of fans for years was contrived to look like aimless wandering.  Seinfeld.  It was (and, via syndication, continues to be) a brilliantly written series. Why?  Because instead of contrived situations that comprised the themes of other shows, Seinfeld dealt with life's minutiae. And made us laugh over the small things.

As I fly from galaxy to galaxy some future eon, I will realize all the more that everything on earth  was about small things.  God is no dummy.  He loves good entertainment.

The cell phone and notebook to the right of my laptop make for good communication.  

It's nice to get a phone call every now and then.  Kinda reminds me of that movie, Poltergeist, where the little girl gets trapped in another dimension and the only contact her family has with her is through a static-stricken television set.  Sometimes, I get so far off in my own little wold that I need someone to throw me a rope.

The writing tablet isn't there for me to draft my next paragraph.  It's there for me to have mindful clutter.  Let me explain.

My brain is constantly on overload.  There hasn't been one conversation with my wife where I didn't leave her at some point and go somewhere else in my head.  I have not gotten any better with time.  Bless her heart, she thinks I am listening better.  I'm just a better actor and pick up on cues faster.  Some people speed-read.  I speed-listen.  Scientists call it ADD.  To me, a fancy label like that just doesn't ADD up. Sorry, I couldn't resist.  Actually, I could have, but it was a good filler.

To put it simply, I have been so used to having a full spectrum of split screens playing in my head that I would honestly be lost without the blessing of mental multi-tasking.

So, on my tablet today, I wrote notes about hooks I ordered from my wholesale vendor in Colorado (see: http://stores.ebay.com/Lords-of-the-Fly); the cost of my Venti Caramel  Frappucino for tax purposes; and today's eBay listings.  

Without ADD, I would go nuts!

The frappucino is a treat...a reward, actually...for one more week of being a halfway decent human being, for working hard at the bagel shop, and for surviving, period.  Plus, Starbucks just happens to be promoting a half-price special on frappucinos.  

Caffeinated drinks aren't good for my health, they tell me, but it sure nourishes my attention deficit disorder, and without ADD, I can't mentally function.  Know what I mean?  Of course you don't.

The predominant tool is a dependence--a lot of times, stubbornly given--on God to move that huge writer's block for me.  Without words, and often without any awareness whatsoever, I pray.  

When my son, Ryan, was about two years old, I stuffed one of my socks with the other one and taught him how to swing it like an old-fashioned slingshot as we played David and Goliath.  I'll let you adjust your ADD long enough to figure out which one of us was Goliath.  Before the little pebble (actually, the balled up portion of the sock) connected with the big giant's head, Ryan was to say, "God, give me strength!"  And then he'd wallop my head a good one...not too shabby, given  his young age, and definitely reinforced by my outrageously loud roar as I fell to the living room floor.  The first time wasn't so bad, but as I was to learn with both my children, one of their favorite sayings came to be, "Do it again, Daddy!  I wanna do it again!"  That's the part that literally hurt!

The focal point of the last paragraph was the simple prayer:  "God, give me strength!"

I can't begin to tell you how many times our family has uttered that prayer, verbally or spiritually spontaneously, over the past two decades.  What I can tell you is that God, in all His supernatural ADD, never failed to answer us in the affirmative.

So that brings me to the last tool.  

But before I go into that, I just realized I forgot something.  I'm keeping this real, folks, and not doing much editing except for grammatical, punctuational, and spelling corrections.

You wouldn't be able to read this post--or any part of my blog, or anybody else's, for that matter--without the graciousness of our host, Blogger.

In fact, for much of yesterday and part of today, Blogger was kaput!  And I was really frustrated and lost. That little grain of sand, that irritant in my psyche, was giving me such a pain, and I did not have the canvas upon which I could vomit my words and somehow stumble into something I could  feel good about calling literary art.

Thank goodness it finally got fixed, whatever the problem was.

So, while I pretty much take it for granted, I am very grateful for the free service that Blogger provides countless others and me.  Blogger is indeed a very significant tool of my trade.


Finally, there's the ingredient of raw nerve.  


There has to be an element of boldness in order for creativity to find an outlet.  It takes guts to spill one's guts. (Silly imagery, I know, but therein lies the raw nerve.)


One cannot reach for the stars without first daring to jump.


The craft of blogging, and again I boldly walk out onto that proverbial limb because I've only been doing this for five months, involves taking risks...sometimes, huge risks.


I face my insecurities and sometimes my personal demons every time I sit down and tap-dance with my fingers on the keyboard.


Somehow, on the wings of a "God, give me strength!" prayer, and with the help of my trusted tools, I get the job done.

THE LIGHTHOUSE AT THE TOP OF THE CLIFF

Kilauea Lighthouse
(Photo courtesy of Ryan)

It's time.

Time to revel in my daughter's graduation from high school.

Time for me to celebrate my son's graduation with a dual master's degree.

Time, after 33 years, for me to have a reunion with my father.


Time, surprisingly, to acknowledge and affirm my personal growth.

Time to go home.

My Lighthouse has always faithfully illuminated the way home.  

My Moral Compass has always pointed True North.

And I, true to my fallible knuckleheaded ways, haven't always been obedient or compliant or willing to listen.  Consequently, on many an occasion, I have lost my way.  


Funny thing is, the Lighthouse mysteriously, supernaturally, and always...ALWAYS!...with great compassion, in a manner not unlike an internal Global Positioning System, suggests a correction of sorts.  And, fortunate for me, there have actually been times when I have heeded the correction.

At my age and graciously blessed with lessons learned from chronic disobedience and follow-up correction, I grow weary of traveling down bramble paths that lead to nowhere...of stumbling on dense rootage, especially the kind I don't readily see at first...or, if I do see it, lack the ability to recognize the camouflaged deception.


At long last, however, some of that proverbial wisdom in my teeth has finally reached my brain.


Simply put, my success in the autumn of my life has been directly proportional to the amount of times I've paid attention to the arena of light cast by the Lighthouse at the top of the cliff.


For example, one major decision that came about by being mindful of the clarion call of the Lighthouse was to engage in the writing of this blog.  As alluded to in a number of this writer's posts, there are three journeys for Hawaiian Odysseus:  the journey to home of origin; the journey to nuclear home; and the journey home to self.  Faithful readers of this blog will encounter familiar, nostalgic, and spiritually resonant chords as they peruse my posts.  The journeys of Hawaiian Odysseus, after all, are the journeys of Everyman.


June will be a month when the journeys align--i.e., when the events mentioned in the first five lines of this post occur--and it should be a veritable feeding ground for the crazy, silly, and daredevil cells in my brain that are assigned to blog-writing duty.


Stay tuned.  


For now, I bask in the nurturing and enduring radiance, an ever present gift from the Lighthouse at the top of the cliff.

THE COLUMBIA CENTER--A PHOTOBLOG

Marble Nameplate

Northeast Corner of Columbia Center

(Hawaiian Odysseus photo)

Bottom third of the building...

(Hawaiian Odysseus photo)

Panning up to the middle...

(Hawaiian Odysseus photo)

And, finally, here's the crown of the building...

(Hawaiian Odysseus photo)

The 76-story Columbia Center is the tallest building in Washington state and the 20th tallest in the nation.

(Hawaiian Odysseus photo)

Construction began in 1982 and was finished three years later.  It was designed by Chester L. Lindsey Architects and built by Howard S. Wright Construction.

(Hawaiian Odysseus photo)

With this photoblog post coming on the heels of Osama bin Laden's death and the accompanying remembrances of 9/11, it is truly surreal to see the airplane (look carefully) photographed between the Columbia Center on the right and its neighbor across the street.

 (Hawaiian Odysseus photo)

There are actually SEVEN stories underground making the Columbia Center the most storied building west of the Mississippi.

(Hawaiian Odysseus photo)

                                                       

                                                           

A MESSAGE FROM OUR SPONSOR (#050411)

Ryan's Cover of
Dave Barnes' Sticks and Stones
2007 Walla Walla University Benefit Concert




STICKS AND STONES


Won't catch you fish!


Instead, try the superb


fly fishing hooks


at 


LORDS OF THE FLY!


http://stores.ebay.com/Lords-of-the-Fly

Our video did not include any closeup shots.  So, here's a photograph of our benefit concert singer.  Thank you, Ryan!

Ryan

2011 Cal Poly Tech Dual Degree Graduate:

  MS Engineering Management; MBA

(Photo courtesy of D.)

                      

POWER SURFING

Surfer at Beach in Hanalei

(Photo courtesy of Ryan)

Recently, this writer was pleased to get some positive, in-person feedback from a reader of Hawaiian Odysseus who had been moved to share with her husband the blog post entitled, "Could I Have Just One More Season With Her, Lord?"  

You can read this post by clicking here:  http://hawaiianodysseus.blogspot.com/2011/02/could-i-have-yet-another-season-lord.html

I wrote this piece from the perspective of a parent.  What's interesting is that this woman wanted to share this particular post with her husband because he is the adult child experiencing his mother's reluctance to let go.  By reading the parent's perspective, the young wife believed that her husband would be better able to understand his mother's motivation(s) and thus respond in a compassionate as well as boundary-oriented way.  This process of empathy truly takes us a lot further along in our personal journeys.

It was a delight to know that there had been this positive difference in others' lives as a result of reading our blog.  Sometimes, for whatever reason, it can be difficult for this writer to transcend the realm of introspection to the reality of transferring those lightning bolts onto the written page.  

Brainstorm?  Ha!  It's more like BLITZKRIEG!

So, to encapsulate today's message, I want to encourage each of you, as I have been encouraged, to get past the texts and the tweets and the abbreviated Facebook  messages and communicate via the old fashioned way...WRITE YOUR THOUGHTS AND FEELINGS DOWN USING COMPLETE SENTENCES.

Maybe, just maybe, you'll get lucky and find that magical moment when your creativity powerfully takes you over...and, whoa! hang on, my friends! because that's when this incredible and overwhelming mystic wave takes you for the ride of your life. 

Here's to you and the awesome power of your written words! 

                                             

BRADDAH CHARLIE'S PORTABLE FISH CLEANING SINK

Braddah Charlie's Portable Fish Cleaning Sink
(All photos in this post courtesy of Silas K. Aqui)

                                                                                 
Ah, the ingenuity of the local island boy!  


My brother, Charlie, has for some time now wanted to build an outdoors fish cleaning sink.  He's been great about not burdening Mom or other family members with the burden of cleaning the abundant amounts of fish he catches.

 But his good intentions cannot eliminate the often overwhelming AROMA DE LA MER, shall we say, that permeates the household and can seriously damper one's appetite.  Besides, there's nothing like preparing for dinner and seeing fish guts in the kitchen sink.

So, true to the process of invention, the irritating grain of sand in Charlie's oyster shell catalyzed his creative juices to the point where he could no longer procrastinate.  The idea that had been germinating in his mind for years finally came to fruition.

And here is the result.

Come on in, Charlie.  I'll ask Andrea, the "local girl" barista at the International District Starbucks to make you a venti soy latte while you share your story with all of the Hawaiian Odysseus family.

Once again, folks, here's my favorite guest blogger, Charlie!


Aloha, everyone!  


First of all, I built an ipe (Brazilian Walnut) wood frame that would support a 21" wide by 15.75" deep stainless steel sink with a 9" bowl depth.  The frame was fastened with stainless steel finish screws.  


Next, I fashioned a countertop from a 30" wide by 21" deep by 1/4" thick Corian oil splash.  The countertop was glued to the frame with liquid nails.  A similar procedure for the sink followed, this time using 100% silicone.  


The Corian cutout for the sink had a handle installed and used as a cover. Since the sink sits under a tree, this cover keeps leaves, twigs, and other objects from soiling or--worse yet--damaging the sink.  


After installing the countertop and sink, the frame felt a little shaky, like it needed bracing.  I had this old 1/4" highway sign, so I ripped it 11.5" and screwed it around the perimeter of the frame with stainless steel screws. That did the trick!

I then installed a spigot.  If you look at the second picture below, you can see that on the bottom of the spigot, I added a male tread to accept a washing machine hose which has two female ends.  This way, I can get my water supply from either a garden hose or a spigot.  


Next, I installed a drain and ran a PVC to the garden, capping the PVC at the end.  


I then drilled holes on the sides of the capped PVC, added irrigation hoses, and led them to the plants.


That concludes my account of how I put this project together.  


Aloha, folks!


Aloha, Charlie!  And mahalo for taking time to share with all of us--in words and images--this wonderful and innovative invention.  


What's really neat about this particular project is its GREEN features.  I like the idea that the fish entrails, blood, scales, and other waste products eventually end up in our mother's garden, thus providing the soil with natural fertilization.


If there are any drawbacks--and I'm kidding here, folks--there may be two distinct possibilities.  Charlie may end up having every stray cat in the neighborhood as backyard patrons, not unlike the way I frequent the coffee shops.  Secondly, our mother's vegetables may be too big for her cookware.


We invite you to peruse through and enjoy the following images.