Recent afternoon at the beach. Look at these of Emma. What a flirt. I'm not looking forward to her teenage years. 

Helen and her good friend Melinda. 

Ants

Question: where are all these ants when I can't see them? 
Answer: I don't know. 


Question: how do these ants know when I have dropped an apple core into the thirteen-gallon, Rubbermaid liner-lock trash can in my office?
Answer: I don't know. 


Question: how to I prevent this problem in the future?
Answer: put apple core in zip-lock bag before disposing. Ah, the life of ease here in paradise.  

Another Bed

As it turns out, making a nice bed out of wicked bad knotty pine is about as hard as making a nice Sunday School class out of wicked bad naughty boys.

Here's my best effort. The wood gave me fits. I sanded, I stained, and I sanded some more but at the end of the day I was dissapointed. To add insult to injury, my daughter, Mary, for whom the bed was made, still prefers to sleep on the floor. 

Lesson learned: don't trust the fella's at Ace hardware to lash the best wood to the roof of your car.

But it was still fun to make.

Pinewood Derby

The pinewood derby has come around again, that time honored tradition of encouraging eight year olds to use saws, hammers, and power tools with finger severing potential. I respect the cub scout program, but come on; do you really expect responsible parents to allow their children to make these things themselves? So, like the rest of the dads in the ward, I was up late hacking and sawing at blocks of knotty pine, trying to fashion something that would meet my children's  elaborately imagined designs. This year Matthew went with a local theme and requested a canoe. We wanted an authentic outrigger, but couldn't make it work and still fit on the track. Here are the results, complete with q-tip paddle. 

Benjamin decided on a less traditional design -- he wanted a finger. Helen, with an ego-crushing lack of confidence in my wood-carving skills, feared that the car would end up looking like another finger-shaped appendage, so we added a diamond ring to avoid any confusion. 

Quick and Dirty

So, before school started, Helen wanted some cubbies or shelves for the kids. So, I put these up late one evening. Nothing fancy, but they're sturdy and do the job. No plans (other than in my head). I'm pretty proud of myself for working around both the light switch and the outlet. 

Creepy Ad

So, I go to check my hotmail account this morning and there is an advertisement on the side of the screen informing me that this guy is searching for me here in Pago Pago. If that is really the case, I'm changing the locks at the house and purchasing a firearm. Seriously MyLife, why are your computers showing that I would fit in the same demographic as middle-aged women who are attracted to either (a) Earnest Hemingway or (b) escaped convicts? I'm just saying. 

Spear Fishing

There’s nothing there in the dark that isn’t there in the light…except for fear. But when you are 100 yards out at sea, diving in 30 foot deep water and all you have for protection is a three-pronged spear, an underwater flashlight, and your ability to swim, there’s a lot of fear. At least there is for me.

A friend and I went spear fishing several weeks ago. Apparently the swift darting reef fish fall asleep at night or at least slow down and so the optimal and perhaps only time to nab one with a spear propelled by an enormous rubber band is after dark.

So into the dark Pacific Ocean we went. The beam from the flashlight looked like a long fat light saber, cutting through the black water. Other than in the direct path of the beam’s glow it was anyone’s guess – sharks, barracuda, eels? I just couldn’t let my mind wander.  "Swim and don’t think" was my mantra. You see, I’ve got a problem with that – my imagination. For example, I was never good at baseball because every time I got up to bat, I imagined the zit-faced pitcher hurling an out-of-control, rock-hard baseball with his newly muscled pubescent arm directly at my jaw. I could see (and hear) in my mind and in vivid detail, the cracking of bone, the spitting out of bloody teeth, the screaming of women, and the little bubble of blood that would form when I exhaled through my nose. So, I usually backed out of the batter’s box as the pitch was delivered, obviously making  for a less effective swing and a short lived baseball career.   

So anyway, that’s how my mind works which should help you appreciate why swimming in tropical, shark and eel infested water’s at night could cause some imagination induced trauma for me.

Fortunately, we survived the night. My friend speared a small zebra-looking fish which we rushed up on shore (after a short detour through a shallow coral reef) before the blood attracted any silent predators. Now that I think about it, that’s what makes the water scarier than say hiking for me. If I’m hiking and run into a bear, for example, I imagine there will be some sort of roar or growl as a sort of mark-set-go to start the race between me and my hiking partner (i.e., you don’t have to outrun the bear just your friend) and at least I’ll have a chance – depending I suppose on the foot speed of my friend. But in the water, there’s no growl, roar, pounding of clawed feet over dirt and rocks, just bam, and your arm’s gone and you’re leaving a trail of blood in the  bay like some leaking oil tanker and as a consolation, if you survive and happen to become a professional surfer, they might make a movie about you.

Oh and I forgot to mention. I was nursing an ear infection that night as well and each time I dove down, chasing after some fish, the pressure felt like someone was pushing a twelve-inch needle into my ear canal. Yeah, it was awesome.

So, my spear fishing career, like my baseball and rock climbing (fifty foot fall/three nights in the hospital and one fully conscious catheter insertion) careers was short and painful, both psychologically and physically.

My new personal handbook for fishing has officially been amended to require the following:

(1) full use of visual and auditory senses (olfactory recommended but not mandatory)

(2) an environment where I have a locomotive advantage (i.e., solid ground – these feet weren’t made for flipp’n)

(3) either my father or a paid professional to deal with any fish that I should happen to catch, including but not limited to hook/spear removal; gutting; head, bone and skin removal; and packaging for transportation

I think I’m still okay with snorkeling – catching fish on film in relatively shallow waters during broad day light has not triggered any imaginary trauma, yet.  

Survey Says

So, my fashion design didn't make it in to the voting round of fifteen. But, I did get an honorable mention. Here is what the email said:


"Thank you for entering our Dare to Design contest! While your design did not make it to the final 15, it DID receive an Honorable Mention from our design team. Please accept this $15 gift card from us for your design. Thank you again!"


Do you think everyone who entered got an honorable mention just to try and make them feel good? If you entered this contest or have in the past and received an identical email, let me know -- especially if you know you're design was really bad and did not deserve an honorable mention, because I'm kind of thinking that's what happened to me.


Anyway, enough of that silliness. Recently I have built a built-in bookcase/shelf set up and am halfway through a toddler bed. Photos to come sometime soon.

Design for Shabby Apple (plus flexing, spitting, and other manly stuff)

Before you start reading this post, I require that you raise your arm and make a solemn pledge to read the entire thing, all the way through, right to the end. If you’re not willing to commit to that, you’re perusing without permission and will not be authorized to use anything found herein to form an opinion about me. Agreed? Okay, you may proceed.  

Okay, so as both of the loyal readers of this blog already know, I am working for two years in a quasi-governmental job in American Samoa, which is really just code for super laid back lots of free time.  

The other day when checking my email for the hundredth time, I see there’s something from this women’s online clothing store called Shabby Apple. Why am I on the email list for an online women’s clothing store? Well, my sister and sister-in-law are gaga about this Shabby Apple place and so being the awesome brother I am I once got them some birthday presents from there, or maybe it was just a gift certificate, I can’t remember, anyway, that’s how I got on the email list.

So anyway, from time to time Shabby Apple has this contest where all you have to do is design some clothes and then post it on your blog and if you’re in the top 15 everyone votes and the winner gets free money (that phrase “free money” has always seemed contradictory to me, but anyway, you know what I mean).

So, here I am, in American Samoa, checking my email and it occurs to me, I like free money and I’ve seen clothes before so why not give it a try. How hard could it be right? So I pulled a sheet of paper out from the printer, grabbed a pen and fifteen minutes and three email checks later, voila. I’m a fashion designer. Well, we’ll see. Anyway, of course I don’t have any colored pencils or pens or whatever to color my design so I had to use the super awesome free paint program on my computer. Not the best, but whatever, it’ll do.

Anyway, now stay with me here fell’as and keep reading, it gets more manly down below, I promise.  Here in Samoa the guys wear these skirt things called ie faitaga and I’ll admit, I’ve got one and I like wearing it. This is manly stuff, trust me. It’s like a South Pacific kilt – rugby players wear them, football players wear them, guys who live in a place call Massacre Bay wear them. Trust me, manly.

So anyway, I’m thinking, maybe the ladies would like to wear these as well. It’s basically a wrap around skirt with pockets, and there’s this belt kind of thing that threads through to keep it up. Pretty simple, pretty easy, pretty nice. No pleats so they have a flattening effect as well although with my ripped manly six-pack abs that’s not really an issue for me. On my design I tapered it so it will be a little more figure flattering for the ladies (the one I wear kind of makes me look stocky – or maybe that’s just my rock hard muscular legs, hard to know really). I also threw a strip around the bottom with a traditional Maori pattern. Could do floral pattern instead. Anyway, the top, which I understand is called a blouse, although I’m really too manly to have every had a conversion that actually required me to use the term “blouse,” has kind of a gathered fabric thing that looks pretty nice – I’m sure less manly men would know the proper fashion term for that, but whatever, I was probably busy lifting something really heavy when everyone else was talking about that.

Bright colors – I chose blue and yellow but it should be pretty easy to mix that up – red, orange, whatever as long as it has a bright tropical feel. Maybe even a floral print, although I'm kind of O.D'd on that down here right now (and it was too hard to draw). Another idea is grey or navy with pinstripes for the skirt if you really wanted to dress it up, but then you kind of lose the tropical feel. Now that I think of it, maybe the pinstripes with a white top. Hum. Oh well, I'm done thinking about that now -- got to go back to thinking about flexing my muscles for awhile. Oh, and definitely sandals (I haven’t worn shoes, except to church, in months).

So, right, hopefully the ladies at Shabby Apple will like this. If they do, anyone who made fun of this post will have to vote for me so I can get my free money which I will not be sharing with you haters.

If you have any questions about the design, feel free to leave a comment, but I probably won’t respond because most likely I’ll be out hunting wild boar with my bare hands or buying some power tools or something.

Peace out.

P.S. I am supposed to link to Shabby Apple Dresses, so here’s the link. Go there and buy all of their super awesome modest dresses. 

Neighboring Island (Aunu'u)

Last Saturday we took the boat to the neighboring island of Aunu'u. The swells were large and the boat was small, but we all survived. Apparently the beach on Aunu'u was pretty ugly after the tsunami in 2009, but it has cleaned up nicely. As you can see, the kids had a splashing good time.

 

Apparently Daniel saw a fish. 

After, we went back to the main island and hiked up to the World War II cannons at Breaker Point.

Photo from Night Hike to Nu'uuli Falls

My friend was nice enough to send me some photos from our early adventures here on the island. Here is a photo that goes with this post. It was our night hike up to Nu'uuli falls: 

Their must be some weird camera trick or perspective problem or something that is making my flexed arm look so small. 

Honking

The honk, in American Samoa, does not mean the same thing as the honk in the States. Here, when someone honks it can mean (i) I'll wait for you to merge into traffic, (ii) thank you for letting me merge into traffic, (iii) I recognize you and am acknowledging that fact in a friendly way, (iv) I see you on your bicycle and do not intend to run you over, (v) thank you in general, (vi) you're welcome in general, (vii) other friendly acknowledgments/greetings. I'm explaining this because it can be confusing at first. However, there is a special technique for doing the Samoan honk of kindness and friendship -- as I call it. It is a light tap, a quick and soft beep beep or sometimes just one quick beep. If done properly it actually does sound friendly. For some reason I can't do it. When I try, it comes out as more of an angry blare no matter how lightly and quickly I tap. I think I've upset a few people I was actually trying to thank. I'll have to spend some time alone in the garage practicing before I try again. In the meantime, people are also into giving the wave to say thank you to fellow drivers. I've already got that one down.

Pola Island Trail/ Vatia/Afono Bay

This morning we set off (fairly) early to explore the north side of the island and the national park. You'll know when you're in the national park when you start seeing garbage cans available to the public. For anyone in the neighborhood and interested, we followed Road 1 to Aua then drove up over Afono Pass and then followed the road around to Vitia. Great drive, but very steep roads -- I keep thinking these roads would be impossible in the snow, although the idea of snow and cold are fading from my memory. Intellectually I know snow exists, but emotionally it just doesn't seem possible that anything could be cold.   The photo to the left is of Pola island. We took a short (like fifty yard) hike to a spot where you can see Pola island from the mainland. I understand there is another trail (just opened this week), around the other side and that from there you can snorkel out to Pola island. Would be a good adventure for another day -- without kids. 

Here is the coast after the fifty foot hike. Nice beach but rocky with really big waves. Not for swimming in, but great scenery. The rocks are a little hard to walk on too. It would be easy to twist an ankle if you aren't careful. 

This is looking the other direction toward Pola Island. Cool arch in the rocks. I also love the color of the water here, especially in the spots where it is lighter. 

Why is it that on every hike, even ones that are only fifty yards long, little boys feel like they have to find and carry sticks. Is it programmed in their DNA? Some sort of hunter-gatherer instinct left over from the last ice age? 

Here are those big waves I was talking about. I think waves are really cool. I understand how they happen, but they still seem magical to me. I could sit and look at them all afternoon. 

Hannah and her Nana looking out at the water. 

Two lovely ladies negotiating the wobbly rocks along the beach. 

I think Benjamin's favorite activity in American Samoa is climbing trees. If you can't find him, check the trees. He is in heaven. 

Coming back over the pass, this is the view down into the bay on the other side. This is also the trail head for our second hike of the day, the lower Sauma ridge trail. 

We saw some local wildlife along our hike. Other than bats and sea creatures, there aren't really that many wild things in American Samoa -- thankfully no snakes. 

This is the end of the lower Sauma ridge trail. Nice views of the ocean. It was a steep decent however. 

Mary hitching a ride on the way back up. 

After the hike and a picnic we went to Afono Bay to cool off. We didn't bring swim suits, so the kids just stripped down and the adults (except for me) went in with their clothes on. You can see Daniel was happy to be in the ocean. 

Mary went in the water a few times too, but mostly she hung out with me and Emma near the shore. 

As her reward for staying with me on the beach, I took lots of cute photos of Mary. Love this one for some reason. 

I told you they went in with their clothes on. 

Coming in after a long day fighting the waves. This was actually a pretty nice beach. No sand, which was a drawback, but fairly shallow and some small waves for the kids to play in, body surf, etc. 

Daniel, the Samoan warrior. 

Matthew makes friends wherever he goes. Here he is organizing water games with some local boys. Can you guess which one is Matthew. 

I think Helen had more fun than the kids. 

Ride to Work

Nice ride in to work today. Lots of cloud cover which both keeps things cooler and motivates me to pedal hard to arrive before the silver-dollar-sized raindrops start falling.

Woodworking Skills

I’m not going to lie, weekend projects around the house have never really been my thing. I think that is because they usually are not my thing – they’re someone else’s thing like hanging curtains for my wife or hanging photos for my wife or assembling shelves for my wife. You get the idea. I realize I should be more charitable and take great pleasure in doing those things, but, well I’m still working on it.

Anyway, last weekend the stars in the southern hemisphere must have aligned because my wife asked me to do a weekend project that actually really excited me. I have always had this dream of taking wood and building something with it. When we lived in California I jointed habitat for humanity simply because I wanted to develop some awesome carpentry skills; however, all they wanted me to do was work on their legal issues. Big disappointment and I eventually dropped out. So, when my wife asked me to build a bed for our son Daniel (and to be used by Helen’s mom when she comes to visit), I was all over it. I made my plans and headed off to the hardware store to buy some tools and lumber.

Let me just tell you, it was great. I had so much fun. The bed wasn’t super hard to make or very fancy, but it took some time and elbow grease and at the end of the day I actually had something that looks and functions like a bed. I tell you, honestly, nothing I have done professionally has brought me as much satisfaction as making this bed. I think it must be because when you build something tangible you can see where all your effort went, that you actually produced something you can point at when it’s all said and done. What can I point to as an attorney? A bunch of emails, contracts, upset people? Hum. Not quite the same. Anyway, thank you dear wife for giving me this great project. I’m up for any more building projects you need – bedside tables?

Here I am with the raw materials. I had to make two trips to the lumber yard, because the plywood wouldn’t fit in the car with all the other wood.

Actually, the only tools I had were a jigsaw, drill, and a palm sander I picked up at the store because I didn’t want to sand the whole thing by hand. Two good helper as you can see above and several others not shown in the photos here. Everyone wanted to hammer in a nail, but I was only using screws in case I need to disassemble at some point down the road. So, the kids took my hammer and some nails and went to work on their own. Let’s just say the garage is now booby trapped with small pieces of scrap wood bearing half hammered bent nails.

Starting to take shape here. My biggest concern was finishing and then finding out that mattress wouldn’t fit. But I didn’t want to bring the mattress out into the dirty garage. So I measured twice and held my breath. (Thanks Helen for taking the photos to document this adventure)

Getting more confidence now, pleased that yes in fact this will be a bed.

It’s hard to say which part of this project was the best, but certainly the staining and varnishing are right up there. What magic to see the wood transformed in to something that looks really cool, like you actually knew what you were doing. Really I just followed the instructions on the can.

Here it is, the finished product in its new home – Daniel’s bedroom. I realize most people will have stopped reading before they get to this point, but I just love looking at this photo.

And here it is, fully functional with mattress and all and me enjoying the fruit of my labors. I’m so into building now. I want to get more tools –a router, a dovetail saw, a table saw, the list goes on. Ahh, deep joy.