Reward Offered

If someone can please tell me why my freakin' archive pages don't work, that would be awesome. Please? (wide-eyed, sad, whimpery face) please?

*Sigh.* I've noticed this before, and I've been trying to solve the mystery for two months now. Somehow, when Blogger changed stuff around, or perhaps before, I lost my archives. Or, rather, public access to them. I know very well what they say and how to get at them. Oh well. I tried listing them by title, which my template just refuses.

Oh, yeah. The reward? Well, I'll tell you my camping rat story.

Back From Kaua'i, Hawai'i

Kaua'i was heaven...with really expensive supplies. No billboards, hardly any streetlights, clear skies, uncharted mountains and valleys, beaches filled with fish or just empty, warm, blue-green water. Soft sand and palm trees with real coconuts, ruffling their feathered leaves. Humid air and hot sun, red dirt and surfers. And a forest, a jungle of greenery. Waterfalls, rivers, and the ever-present ocean.

I'm not a huge fan of saltwater; I prefer freshwater streams or lakes, but I couldn't get enough of the ocean. I also discovered that I like snorkeling. A lot. Funny how I amlost drowned in trying that one out back in secondary. And Emblem discovered that she does not like to snorkel. A lot. However, she enjoyed the ATV tour (which we took in a Mud Buggy, and she drove while I watched the bone-jarring ruts and blind curves).

I admired the way Hawaiians speak: long vowels like Canadians or Native Americans; strong, pronounced L's and a slow cadence. You can tell who was born on in Hawai'i and who transplanted from California.

My favorite tour, the chartered sailing catamaran, with snorkeling off the Napali coast, was exciting, comfortable, and the perfect introduction to the vacation Kaua'i lifestyle. The helicopter tour was amazing; all those movies shot on the same little island, with the Waimea Canyon keeping its secrets and its dominant position on Kaua'i. We stayed in Poipu/Lawai, with an ocean-view one bedroom condo on the upper floor. We overlooked the beach and the pool, and just had an amazing view from our lanai.

The ATV tour took us through the now-dormant sugar plantation currently owned by Steve Case of AOL, who supposedly wants to keep the area just the way it is...a haven for rare, indigenous plants and incredible flora.

The rest of our time was spent enjoying the scenery, finding the perfect beach, and the perfect souvenirs, and observing the difference between the culture presented to tourists and the true roots of Hawai'i.

Sympathy for the Water Bottle

One of the hottest days that I've witnessed this year, and we are in a field full of people - up to 100,000, or so the security guard claims. Screaming, drunken, high teenagers and college kids all around us, who decide to hurl water bottles during Dispatch playin "Water Beneath". First, empty water bottles, then not empty, uncapped, then not empty, capped, such as the one that pegged me in the hip. Then coolers, sodas, and an aborted attempt at throwing a large glass rum bottle. Chuck in a too-quiet sound system (for those of us at the back, at any rate) and a solid wall of people surrounding the field, a few brave tree-climbers, and a sick friend, and you've got our Saturday down. I appreciate the band, just not the liquored-up fans. I guess I'll have to cherish my memories of over-21 concerts past. These kids were 11 or 12 when Dispatch started, but who's counting? Lots there, about half for the right or quasi-right reasons.

Life is stressful, but I was mostly stressed for my friends. My stress also resulted from a fairly short and flippy red skirt turning traitor in the heavy breeze that did not penetrate the crowd, but made walking around Charles St. a two-handed job - one hand on each side of my skirt. Taking a picture was an amusing three-person experience. I wouldn't have minded staying longer, but it was mostly a bust, and we had fun in Boston anyway. That same night we enjoyed the breezes, and I changed to jeans, and the next day A. & I got to shop and explore.

So, chau, Dispatch. Un brindo para los músicos:
"Amor, Salud, y Dispatch!"