With the start if the holidays comes the reminder of the dark days for those who live in colder climates. The suns sets around 4:30pm to end a day that never really got light to begin with. Yay, it's winter time.
My friends all have their solutions. Some go to tanning booths, some adjust their prozac, and other's book their flights to tropical climates. My family has a history of SADS so not having health insurance or the funds to jet off to Hawai`i whenever I like, I'm playing the part of guinea pig and trying something new this year.
Philips has come out with the Golite. Which supposedly is a relief for winter blues, low energy, sleep problems and carb cravings. Naturally. I'm also going to try Vitamin D and B and Omega Oil to see how I fare this year. Every morning while I check my email, I'll turn it on. It's different from traditional sunlamps or light therapy since it's all about Bluewave technology.
The specific bandwidth of light that is responsible for suppressing melatonin and shifting circadian rhythms encompasses light in the range of 446 - 477nm (nanometers). This narrow slice of light is in the upper end of the blue spectrum. Bluewave technology is the only method that delivers the effective intensity of this bandwidth of light.
I'm very curious to see if it all works and will lt you know how it goes. Maybe I'll try the light while wearing a bikini and coconut oil for extra brain foolin' effect.
I realize at some point, the amount of which one talks about their pets (or children) can be annoying and signify a downward trend from the excitement of youth in one's life. However, as I haven't done it yet, I'll introduce you to Mr Owen Fluoride. Two pounds of adorable netherland dwarf humor. Since I work from home, on most days, he's all I have to talk to. But I tell you, the amount of joy and trouble this little furball can achieve is monumental for his size.
Owen's disposition calls for attention usually in subtle ways. We've trained ourselves to diagnose the sound of different kinds of chewing. But usually to get our attention, he gives us licks here and there, a tug to your sock, etc. Move from room to room and he will follow and form himself into a puff under the plantstand, chair, desk or sofa. While he's a quiet fellow, he will on rare ocassions come barging into the room with much gusto, spin around, do a flip and then race out. He's also taken to playing with the little leftover baskets from our wedding favors. He likes to put them on his head and walk in front of us. Then stand up on his hind legs to make sure we see him, then pull it off with is paws. He then does the whole routine again. What a little ham!
Usually though, he's pretty quiet. His latest trick though, is one he's done before.
He's been torturing my remote control. Slowly and methodically over the last week. When we aren't around he's been going into our bedroom - which he knows is our space. I know this because he doesn't leave his calling cards in there. He then jumps up onto the bed, makes his way over to my side, goes to my nightstand, and removes just one button off the remote. First it was the SLEEP button (my favorite), then the VOLUME UP and finally, last night I noticed we could no longer MUTE. He doesn't advertise this to us in anyway, like drop the button in front of us like a trophy. No, he waits until I'm tired and he's been put away for the night to remind me he ultimately has (remote) control.
There are a few foods which upon first mention, my mouth salivates. I am Pavlov's poor hungry dog. The bell ringing are the words "Guava Cake".
Usually my drooling for "local food" is reserved for heartier meals like Meat Jun or Crispy Gau Gee Mein. It's the elusive Guava Cake (or cupcake of which I requested at my wedding - and consequentially was so popular, I never got a bite) that makes my eyes glaze over as I dream about it's perfect texture of white whipped frosted trim, the almost overly sweet taste of pink chiffon, and the signature pool of neon magenta glaze.
I admit it's kind of an obsession of mine that I have THIS cake - and this cake only - when I visit O`ahu. Not haupia cake, or chocolate dobash, chantilly, or even my dear lovely friends, the malasadas. No, it must be Guava Cake from Deelite Bakery only. The ladies there will wonderfully wrap it up a frozen version for you to take home on the airplane even. And when you finally get home, it's pinky goodness glowing from within, you peer into the white cardboard box like looking into the Ark of the Covenant, only with less melty faces and screaming. Like opening lost pirate treasure, King Tut's tomb - you catch my drift. It's glorious.
As best as I can find, this is the recipe:
Or you can head over to one of these three locations:
94-766 Farrington Hwy Waipahu, HI 96797 (808) 671-1155
1930 Dillingham Blvd Honolulu, HI 96819 (808) 847-5396
We’re taking a toad trip to learn about the past. Not mine this time, but of my friend Krista’s father’s genealogy. It’s one of my most favorite things to do - research. What is it about history that intrigues me more than what’s happening now? Maybe it's the certainty of it. As answers to mysteries become revealed and you hopefully discover new things, there's stll no change to the past - only changes to your perception. Unveiling that truth fascinates me. Revealing why people are who they are and ultimately why I am who I am.
This picture is of my great, great grandma Emily Hamilton Newman. If you look closely, you can see her inside the stand. She and her husband George Newman lived in Glenn, Michigan on this fruit farm off rural highway M-11 in Ganges Township. Emily’s produce stand was named “Aunt M-11” and she sold freshly baked bread, pies, cookies, whatever fruit was in season, and soda pop for a nickel. My great grandfather Myron took shelter from a storm under the eaves of Aunt M-11 one hot summer day. Of all the Newman girls, he picked the shortest sister of the four, who at 4’8” he appropriately nicknamed “Shorty”. Shorty was my great grandmother Violet. At 5’ 4”, he wasn’t much taller. At 5’2”, neither am I.
I drove down M-11 seventy years after this picture was taken to find that there was nothing left. The farm had been completely replaced by forest and I was shocked to discover how fast nature could cover over human existence. I truly was expecting to see a dilapidated house, an old barn, a foundation, the stump of the old oak tree – anything more substantial than the headstones in the Plummerville cemetery to show me these lives existed. But nothing was left. There had been stories of Grandpa Newman collecting Potowatomi arrowheads from the fields when he cleared the trees. Standing in front of the green curtain of leaves, trunks and twigs, that lifetime suddenly became more real to me than my great, great grandmother’s fruit stand.
Hi. It seems my web hosting company had a major crash and took a few chucks out of my site on it's way out. I was only slightly bitter after I realized they'd lost all of the images for my most recent blogs and portfolio. And of course I'd already tossed the images I'd uploaded over the past two weeks. Grrr.
Meanwhile, some very dear friends are moving to Lahaina, Maui to open up a Hawaiian shave ice shop. I've been designing all of their signage based only on photos of the past business owner's layout. It's kind of like designing for a candy shop without ever getting to taste the candy. Maui? Don't you think I should be there? Maybe I can photoshop myself into the photo.
If you are on the ocean side of Front St. in the Old Poi Factory (Between Cheeseburger in Paradise & The Lahaina Fish Co) please stop by and say "Aloha" to Uncle David and get some 'ono' shave ice. They make 80% of their own syrups and their ice is FINE. Check out their menu: