From Reading Like a Writer: A Guide for People Who Love Books and For Those Who Want to Write Them, by Francine Prose:

Among the questions that writers need to ask themselves in the process of revision — Is this the best word I can find? Is my meaning clear? Can a word or phrase be cut from this without sacrificing anything essential? — perhaps the most important question is: Is this grammatical? What’s strange is how many beginning writers seem to think that grammar is irrelevant, or that they are somehow above or beyond this subject more fit for a schoolchild than the future author of great literature. Or possibly they worry that they will be distracted from their focus on art if they permit themselves to be sidetracked by the dull requirements of English usage. But the truth is that grammar is always interesting, always useful. Mastering the logic of grammar contributes, in a mysterious way that again evokes some process of osmosis, to the logic of thought.

Amen.

Aloha from paradise, and thanks again to Jennifer at Conversion Diary for hosting. Pōmaika`i (blessings) to you, Jen, and your new kamali`i “Joy!”

1.

It’s been three months since I’ve posted anything, and while part of the reason has to do with working on my Big Project in January and February, mostly it’s just because I’ve had the blahs. I’ve even starting thinking of this as my “blahg.” It comes down to this: my life is really not that interesting, and blogging about it isn’t going to make it any more so. But it’s been bothering me not to have posted anything for 3 months, so this felt like an itch I had to scratch.

2.

I do read an awful lot of blogs, though – I can’t begin to tell you how impressed I am by (and let’s face it: envious of) the bloggers who can post something – sometimes more than one post! – every day. The ones I especially am drawn to, for some odd reason, are the mommy bloggers. There are half a dozen or so I read regularly (including our gracious hostess) who are much younger than I and have 3 or more children who are babies, toddlers, preschoolers – I’m just in awe. And utterly baffled; how on earth do they find/make the time? Granted, my memories of those years are hazy, but looking back, I don’t think I could have sat down at a computer (well, that was back in the dark ages before we had one, so I guess it would have had to have been a journal) and written like this – the amount of time it would have taken would have been more than enough for the kid to call 911 (which Number One Son did, once, when he was in elementary school) or toss his $600 hearing aids in the toilet. Which he also did.

3.

And now that that kid is 21 and 6000 miles away, I’ve got a whole other list of things to be on my knees about. Such as Spring Break. So if you happen to remember and/or feel so inclined, please keep NOS in your prayers this week. He left this morning (our time; noon, his) on a 10-hour drive from Washington DC to Mont Tremblant, Quebec, and, if his Facebook page is to be believed, the week to come will be one long extravaganza of partying, punctuated by occasional snowboarding. Sigh.

4.

It’s really cold here. Not cold like where you are (I’m assuming that whoever is reading this is on the mainland), but for the tropics … frigid. You know when you check weather.com and they tell you what the actual temperature is, and then say it “feels like” some other temperature? I guess to account for wind chill or whatever. Well, weather.com just told me that here in my zip code it’s 67 degrees, but if you’re island-born, I’m telling you, it feels like 32. Inside the house. Like you, I’m ready for spring.

5.

I like mainland winter weather, though. Well, let me qualify that: I like to go to Colorado for a week during the winter — not really; we’re talking March — to ski. (Okay, stop scoffing) And I’m sad because this year I’m not going. The Coach has to coach, and Baby Girl has umpteen commitments of her own, and the financial situation, well, you know – so we decided this year there could be no spring break trip to our Rocky Mountain home-away-from-home. So I’m bummin’. I’m an island girl through and through, but I do love to get away to those majestic mountains and carve it up. If you do get a chance to ski this spring, do a run for me, would you?

6.

I just love to read, but haven’t done much so far in 2009. I’ve only read 4 books this year, compared to 13 by this time a year ago. A few days back I finally picked up and started “Twilight,” which Baby Girl had lent me back around New Year’s. Just wanted to see what the fuss was all about. About the same time as I was starting the book, I read an interview with Stephen King, in which he said something like, “Stephenie Meyer can’t write worth a darn.” And you know what, he’s right: the Twilight story is kind of fun, in its way, but the writing is truly terrible. I’m constantly fighting the urge to toss it across the room. But I’m so weird in that way: I’ll torture myself and keep reading to the end, because I want to know how it comes out. Masochist.

7.

My 7 quick takes are not that quick. I need to work on that. I’m going to start by stopping. But first I have to say I’m nuha with Blogger for not letting me add photos to this post. Grrr.

1. People don’t think there are any real differences between summer and winter in the tropics, but there are, albeit subtle ones. If you live here long enough, you become attuned to the little differences in things like the air quality (still balmy, but with a slight sharpness to it), or how the sun sets over the ocean in a slightly different place (which I don’t totally get, because isn’t the west, the west?).

2. I admit it, I’m spoiled about the whole shorter days business. I know our winter days are pretty darn long compared to the Mainland, but they’re still not long enough for me. I’m looking at the tide calendar and see that the sun rose this morning at 7:00 and will set tonight at 5:51. I find myself counting down to the winter solstice and getting excited about how the days will get longer after that. So maybe that’s something I have in common with my Mainland friends.

3. We continue to wear the same shorts and t-shirts we wore all summer. It is a rare winter day when we are forced to don long sleeved tops and/or jeans. We do not like to shop for clothes during the winter. Imagine our frustration with the racks and stacks of cashmere and wool items with which every store in every mall is fully stocked. The display of wool scarves at The Gap makes me laugh out loud.

4. Still, I do like to sing along with “White Christmas” and “Walking in a Winter Wonderland,” even though there’s no relating to them whatsoever. I draw the line, however, at “Let It Snow,” but maybe that’s just because it’s such an annoying song. Once I get “Oh, the weather outside is frightful” stuck in my head, I have to fight the urge to shriek in agony and tear my hair out at the roots.

5. One of our family’s Christmas traditions is to go, on the morning of Christmas Eve, to an eastern facing beach and watch the sunrise (the photo on my home page was taken at Sandy Beach one such Christmas Eve a few years ago).

6. Our extended family all gathers at our home on Christmas morning for breakfast. We eat outside on the lanai. Until it gets too hot from the morning sun, then we come back inside and cool off.

7. As I gaze out my kitchen window at bougainvillea, ginger and plumeria, I’m thankful for flowers that bloom all year round. Now, as part of the clean-up we’re doing after yesterday’s storm, I’ve got to go fish their leaves and blossoms out of the pool. Because I’m going for a swim this afternoon.

[HT: Jennifer @ Conversion Diary, a favorite blogger who does this every Friday — I’m entertained and inspired by her QTs every week, and by those of other bloggers who are also inspired by her. Mahalo, Jennifer!]

The Coach and I have always celebrated two anniversaries: our wedding anniversary, of course, and the anniversary of our first date. This is probably because our first date was quite memorable — very unconventional, but more fun than you can imagine — but maybe that’s a post for another time.

Anyway, yesterday was our 25th first-date anniversary. And unfortunately, TC is out of town on a business trip. But on the bright side, he remembered it, and before he left arranged to have flowers delivered. See above.

By the way, I counted. There are 25 of those long-stemmed beauties. All together now: awwww…

Although I wasn’t one of the people she tagged, Lisa inspired me to write this post about a few of my own punahele (favorites) — in no particular order:

#5: I know I should come up with five totally original things, and I promise I’m not copying you Lisa, but reading has been a favorite thing of mine my whole life. As the daughter of a librarian, how could it be otherwise? I read all the time … I can’t help myself … the back of the cereal box (or Triscuits, which I’m partaking of now) will do, but I start first thing in the morning with Scripture, move on to the newspaper, the internet, blogs, and of course, my beloved library books, and it just goes on pretty much throughout the day, till it’s the last thing I do before I turn out the light. I keep a log of the books I’ve read; so far in 2008 I’m up to 54 (#55 is Jimmy Buffett’s latest, a cute little story about a pig named Rumpy).

#4: Although it isn’t something I do much of anymore, I just love to travel. There’s just something about going new places and experiencing other cultures — and when you’re from an island in the middle of the Pacific, just about anywhere else is a different culture — that gives me such a lift. I’m looking forward to doing more of it when I’m an empty nester (less than 2 years to go — whoo hoo!) — but unfortunately this puts me at odds with The Coach, who really, reeeeally doesn’t like traveling. Oh well, who knows, I may just strike out on my own.

#3: Once upon a time, I dreamed of going to culinary school and becoming a chef. Alas, it wasn’t meant to be, and while I still do love to mess around in the kitchen, I’m guessing that part of what was motivating me back then was my love of fine dining. I could eat in a four-star restaurant every week. Alan Wong’s, Cafe Diva, Hoku’s — once in awhile for a special occasion is never enough. I’m into it all: the menu choices, the presentation, the service, the ambience. I feel like, if I really wanted to challenge myself, sure, I could do gourmet cuisine, but man oh man, when I’m sitting there at that starched white tablecloth and there’s someone in the kitchen who really knows what they’re doing, it’s just … heaven.

#2: You know how there’s a song, or a genre of music, that just, well, sends you? Whether it’s classical, or country, or gospel, or jazz, you never fail to be moved? For me, it’s Hawaiian music. Of course that’s mostly because it’s what I’ve grown up with, it’s the soundtrack of my earliest memories, it’s just my soul music. A year ago I started dancing hula again after taking a break from it for about a decade and a half, and every Wednesday night for me is like spiritual refreshment, when Kimo takes up his ukulele and sings the old favorites and we all just fall under that hula spell. Which sort of leads me to …

#1: Home. When I was 18 years old and graduating from high school, I could not wait to get off this rock. I left for the Mainland, and I gave it a good try, sticking it out through college and graduate school and one year in LA endeavoring to launch a career. But one day it hit me, and I knew there was no doubt about it: the islands were calling me back. So I packed up and came home. That was 27 years ago, and it’s one decision I’ve never second guessed. I met TC (whose family has been here since 1828!), and we knew this is where we were meant to be. And as I said, I do love to travel, but there will never be another place I’d want to live. People who are not from Hawai`i often tell me they envy me living in paradise, but I can see in their eyes or hear in their tone of voice that they could never imagine themselves setting down roots somewhere so isolated, no matter how beautiful. That’s cool. Chacun a son gout. I’m blessed everyday by the beauty of this `aina, it’s true, but mostly I love it because it’s home.

I am participating in this declaration of victory and virtual ticker tape parade, and hope you will too! Do take the time to read the whole post; it’s very informative, not to mention persuasive.

This Thanksgiving, I’m especially thankful to our troops and veterans — and their families — for their service. I’m in awe of all they do and what they’ve done, and I pray God blesses each and every one of them, from the lowliest private all the way up to the Commander in Chief.

I’m voting tomorrow anyway.

I’m proud to say, as an 11th-generation American (it’s true — I had an ancestor born in the Jamestown Colony), that I have exercised my right and privilege to vote in every election since I was 18. That one, I voted absentee, as I was away at college, but ever since, I have walked into a booth on Election Day and cast my ballot.

Primary AND general.

But this is the first time in all those years I’ve been even a little bit tempted not to. And that’s because of the feeling I’ve had these past few weeks that, cliche as it sounds, my vote won’t count. In all likelihood, it probably won’t.

But I don’t care. [Fighting the temptation to use stronger language here] Even though the polls close out here in the middle of the Pacific 2, 3, 4, or 5 hours later than on the Mainland — by which time all the news outlets will probably have called the election. Even though I already know where all four of my state’s electoral votes will be going. And even though the odds of my vote making a difference are astronomical.

I just can’t not vote. The alternative — sitting this one out — well, I just can’t imagine it. No matter how many times I hear about the foregone conclusion-ness of it all — local races as well as national — I still don’t care. I can’t. Not. Vote.

That doesn’t mean I’ll happily accept the outcome. Really, how much is there to be happy about after all this nonsense has been dragged out, lo these many months? But I know this: I’ll be able to live with myself.

… I’m not sure I want to be part of a group that would have me for a member.

A few days ago, I joined Facebook. Mostly I did it because Number One Son has been on it for quite some time, and when a family member recently told me how “popular” NOS is — apparently he has upwards of 800 “friends” on Facebook — curiosity got the best of me, as it usually does, and I signed up.

Once there, I was hooked. In a serious, whoa, back off kind of way. I was clicking all over the place and inviting people I barely know to be my friend. But presumably, that’s what people do. Several of my new friends have considerably more than 800 friends. So maybe I’m not as pathetic as it may seem.

Anyway. In the course of all that clicking around, I not only found lots of new friends, potential friends, and other people’s friends, I discovered that Facebook is also littered with “groups.” Which apparently you can join in the same way you can ask to be someone’s friend.

Okay. I could see right away that membership in a group attaches a certain label, shall we say, to you. So if you’re like me, you might be cautious to the point of paralysis about just which groups you elect to join. Being that the label part is all some people might see.

Still, one group that caught my eye — and which I almost decided to join — is called “Barack Obama and I both went to Punahou.” Here’s what it says on their Info page:

“I believe that the carefree childhood I experienced in Hawai’i, and the wonderful education I received at Punahou, should not be left to the luck of the draw, but should rather be every child’s birthright. I believe that only in a country in which we can appreciate differences of race and religion and ethnicity, while still insisting on our common humanity, will my own soul feel rested.” –Barack Obama

Admit it. You find yourself looking for ways to casually mention that you went to the same high school (and middle school and elementary school) as a major Presidential candidate. In Hawaii.

And it is kind of trippy that Mr. Kusunoki, the guy who taught you to “keyboard” really fast, was Obama’s homeroom teacher.

And you hope he wins. Maybe it’s because he’s the kind of Presidential candidate only a school like Punahou in a place like Hawaii could breed. Or maybe just because you like the idea of a “Pun” in the White House.

Yup, you went to the same school as Barack Obama. You’re secretly just a little proud.

I was going along with most of that right up until “you hope he wins.” The thing is, I agree with a lot of the above, even the secretly just a little proud part, and it would be great to have a Pun in the White House. Just not that one.

So I’m not joining that group. Even though I did go to the same school, and our time there overlapped a bit even, and I have a close relative and several pretty good friends (the real life, non-Facebook kind) who were his classmates. But the connection stops there. I “hope he wins”? Bite your tongue. Again and again.

I did join a group though. And although this post is no indication, it’s a lot more “me” than the going-to-the-same-school-with-Obama one: “I judge you when you use poor grammar.”

Turns out I’ve got one …