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All is well now. The grand Poobah of the Internet has blessed the Alter Ego free of badware. Bless you back Oh Great One.

At the beach now.

In front of me there’s a Gecko doing push ups on the trunk of a palm tree (did you know many species are bushes?). Supposedly to create a draft beneath itself to cool off. Why the effort — there’s a perfectly cool ocean not twenty feet away. Skitter down the tree, find yourself an inch or two of still water in the tide pool and chill out.

It worked for us after an hour in the sun. Not in the tide pool but just a short walk beyond it, in a bay that Happy Wife discovered swimming with green turtles. She said the bay was a “cleaning station”, a place where the turtles come to have tiny fish pick accumulated nits and lice from their shells. I wasn’t in the water long when I spotted one. I gulped twenty seconds of air and flippered down to have a closer look. This turtle had wedged itself in a triangular formation of rocks, probably to prevent the push ‘n pull of the current — less strong down there but still a factor — from sloshing it about. Sure enough, working like a busy pit crew a small school of parasitic fish were sucking bits of something from its shell. I had hovered long enough to be noticed by the turtle, who shot me a furtive look as if to say, “Buzz off, willya.” I was out of air so I complied.

When Happy wife got out of the water she saw she had lost her ankle bracelet. See V-day photo below. Like so much other treasure in the ocean, lost forever.

Back on the beach now and will you look at this, two whales close offshore! Moving left to right. More in the far distance, off Molokai’s north shore; even from here I can see the splash from their breech. Must be ten miles or more. The two that are close, right out in front of us now, I see their (hump) backs break the surface then disappear, then re-appear further along. Happy Wife says, “Watch, if we’re lucky we’ll see ’em breech”. I look but then lose patience. Plenty of people around me are looking though, scanning the vast blue plane of water with binoculars.

V-day @ Merriman’s with Happy Wife:

There may be no better place to observe human futility than at a beach. It sets you to wondering if the biological ancestors of human beings actually emerged from the water. An episode in a grander just-so story we are supposed to feel shame to disbelieve. From behind the anonymity of sunglasses we watched with great amusement so-called “snorkelers” don their gear to prepare to go snorkeling. It’s really very easy. First, commit your entire self into the water. Get beyond the surf before you begin to put on your fins. Then, as you bob along effortlessly on the surface of the water put on your mask, adjust and straighten your snorkel, secure the straps around your head and you’re ready to go.

Do not put the mask on upside down as you walk toward the water. Do not balance on one leg in a pounding surf struggling to get one fin on, and then the other. Do not be timid once everything is finally on and walk backwards into the water and fall on your ass and roll two or three times in the pounding surf filling your trunks with sand.

Later, as we lounged, Dickensian pigeons roamed the beach begging for scraps. They exhibited no fear of humans, and were even willing to perch on an outstretched arm. Even without the promise of a nibble of food.

<Ahem> You do see the pigeon, right?

Moving on to things more serious, as the title of this posts indicates, there is a transition nigh. The name of this blog will remain Rod’s Alter Ego, as for years Rufus has channeled my thoughts, however, from this time forward the Alter Ego will no longer be Rufus, although I’m certain he’ll drop by now and then, but another voice inside me waiting to get out. I will use the blog to write about things I feel like writing about.

That is when I’m not writing my book. That’s as much as I want to say about that right now. I have things to say and the novel I am convinced is the venue in which to say them. I don’t when it will be finished or even if I’m capable of such a thing, but the time has come to try, to get the “bones down” as they say.

That said, posts authored by me will show as “Rod”, who you will understand is the “Alter Rod”. Others will post under other names, although I expect these will be infrequent.

At night we park the rental car beneath trees evidently preferred by birds because in the morning the car is covered with pooh. It makes our white car easy to find among all the other white rental cars. Wash it? I don’t think so. Who washes a rental car?

Went for another bike today — Napili to Kihei (blue line B –> A). I took advantage of a sturdy north wind that turned against me when I rounded the southern point. The wind was at my back again once I turned southeast towards Kihei.

Saw a cruise ship offshore, fortunately upright. Tons of whales too. They give birth here and swim to Alaska to feed later in the year. Amazing.

High point of the ride, near the southern terminus of the “Lima Bean”. The island of Lanai looms in the distance.

The happy wife and I rendezvoused in Kihei where we enjoyed lunch at Stella Blues Cafe. Perfect timing to have a flat front tire. Into the car the bike went.

Afterwards, the beach.

Finally, Mai Tais at happy hour in Kaanapali; the Napili Market for shrimp and steak (& a Redbox movie); home to grill dinner & watch the movie; a glass of wine or three. Blog. Bedtime.

Tomorrow, who knows. Whatever moves us. We parked the car in the same place. Should be no problem finding it.

White Wigwam socks on doughy-white legs inside thick black shoes with Velcro closures. Lots of these on Front Street in Lahina, where I cycled for espresso this morning. We’re staying in the Napili area.

Whales galore spouting off, flipping their flukes and even performing a full breech now and then.

Sea Turtles. Lots of Sea Turtles.

A snail. Discovered in the grass not more than two feet off our back porch.

A Happy Wife.

Morning bike ride. Top of the climb (sort of).

Near HonoLua, Maui.

Welcome back to those of you who may have been scared away by Google’s warning that the Alter Ego was an “Attack Site”. This is like flagging Mother Theresa as a terrorist.

I removed various malware, and submitted a formal request to Google for a new review of the site, in order to have it removed from the “no surf” list.

Sheesh.

Meanwhile, we waited in the Anchorage airport for our plane to Maui. The latter being ninety degrees warmer than the former.

Later, free decadence in first class at thirty six thousand feet above the Pacific. “Would you like another Mai Tai Mr. Nibbe?” Yes, plz. Bring one every fifteen minutes until I doze off, then bring one every thirty minutes.

An inconvenient truth.

I want to lose 185 pounds and get back to my original weight. Fat chance. Ha!

When you’re young it’s all about growing up, getting bigger, clean your plate, etc. Somewhere around your thirties the great reversal arrives. Someone notes your Milwaukee tumor – “Dude, you’re getting a paunch.” You resolve to slim down, exercise more, eat less and less often. Beaches and skinny jeans terrify you.

Here in Alaska in winter we battle another urge, the ceaseless voice inside imploring you to eat! eat! eat! Hard times are coming. Time to store fat. Yaddy ya. You feel helpless to resist. A bag of Lays and a pint of French Onion dip disappears in under an hour. Before you realize it you can barely bend over your tumor to tie your shoes.

And it has been cold. And snowy beyond usual. Look.

Ugh. Time for another bag of Lays. Krinkle cut.

I had the perfect email ready to go. No body, merely a subject line: “Say Cheese, Baby!”

The recipients had been carefully selected. Hitting the send key was going to feel like opiates flooding my brain. My pregame giddiness was almost pathological.

No mail was sent. I feel today as if I need a treatment center. There may be nothing so difficult as coming down. Reassurances from loved ones help but do not heal.

What the hell happened? I do not know. Who wants to bear witness to a train wreck. It was like the contradiction of a near death experience: It happened so fast yet seemed to unfold in slow motion.

Tomorrow will come. When it does, I will be here, a Cheesehead for life.