Stephanie says

  Jim and I moved into Honolulu proper to a 10 th  floor apartment with a lanai overlooking city to ocean. I don’t know quite why we moved there as Jim always took care of relocating, (and I loved that about him.) So he chose the place, maybe forgetting his fear of heights.  That lanai was a source of torture for the man. It was large enough to hold a table, several chairs, a hibachi, and plants. Jim always sat in the chair nearest the sliding door.  Always.  He would not join at the table whenever our portly friend Dick Royes was over for dinner. Maybe he worried about the tensile strength of the rebar supports.   Dick’s theory on the fear of height, one of his many interesting and often outrageous ideas, was that it wasn’t so much the height that people were afraid of, but that they wanted to jump off - and feared they would.   One night I was shooting photos from the lanai during a lightning storm over the ocean when Jim not...

One sleepy Kahaluu evening Jim had turned in for an early night while I studied in the living room.  A loud explosion startled me and when I looked up from my book I saw a red-orange glow lighting up the night.  Mil’s house was ablaze.  Engulfed. The intense heat of the fire blew out the window glass. I dialed 911 while yelling for Jim.  He ran into the living room and immediately sized up the situation.  Saying, “Mil,” he was out the door and running down the common driveway.  Augie ran out to meet him and they both ran into the burning house and found Mil incapacitated in the living room, some of her clothes smoldering.  They carried her outside to safety.  Neighbors sprayed water on the houses closest to the fire with scrounged garden hoses until the fire department arrived.  Thankfully the trade winds weren’t blowing. The parameds quickly sent Mil to a burn unit, much of her body was seriously ...

  Perusing cookbooks over the years I’ve gleaned all manner of cooking tips and food information. I’m happy to share with you, dear reader, a payoff from this flawed database.  I was online searching baked good recipes when I stumbled across a Swedish Saffron Cake which got me to thinking about the sheer number of Nordic recipes using saffron that I’ve encountered.  Why was saffron so commonly used in cooking there? How did they get it?  I had in my mind that saffron was regarded as a luxury item, like Swiss chocolates and caviar.  From Wikipedia:  Saffron is a spice derived from the flower of Crocus sativus commonly known at saffron crocus. I’d never heard that.  I phoned Melissa to share the remarkable information that saffron threads are crocus stigma.  She said, “Everybody knows that.”  Huh? Not me.  Inner gardener kicks in:  Wonder if I can grow it?” And the answer to that question? ...

  We frequented a health-food restaurant in Kailua owned and operated by a born-again christian group.   We fondly dubbed it “Bible Bread” because they baked all the very delicious bread and also because we were so witty.   Anyway, the staff seemed to be all cute girls so Michael was in his element.  One particular time, this is an example of sibling solidarity, we’re in there and at the counter was a particular girl Michael liked to chat up. He was flirting big time when she looks over at me, with an ‘and who’s this?" look.  Michael says “Tell her you're my sister.”  So I just looked right at her with a bland gaze and say, “I’m his sister."  Unconvincingly it seems.  She cut the conversation short.  Michael was not amused.  I certainly was.   I really crack myself up.