Bon Mots and Cheap Shots,  Powerlifting


Raise the bar, Hey Judge, to 836 pounds!

Today was the Honolulu WABDL meet. It was in memory of Sonny Ronolo. I did not know him, but his daughter spoke so eloquently of him, you couldn’t help but feel his spirit. You can go to Hawaii, and then you can go to Hawaii. Spending the day with a bunch of Hawaiians, doing something they would normally do that day, made me have a whole new appreciation for Oahu. Oahu, that I had almost written off because of the congestion, and tourism, and abject poverty.

Dr. Lyn

Dr. Lyn was a powerlifter. I did not meet her either, but she had an aneurysm a few days ago and passed away, or went to sleep as they say here. I coincidentally ended up sitting with first, a group of her friends and then, her family came in and sat down. Life is a little fragile for powerlifters. Many vaper lock and go young. Lyn was my age. She coached a bunch of the lifters that were there. They were all walking zombies. I knew her name and she was a great lifter, but to see the influence she had on these women was particularly poignant. Some of them really seemed a little lost, I could tell them what they needed to do, but they couldn’t hear me through the grief. An older woman sat next to me. She was Chinese and her english was stilted. She went to Lyn’s gym. (I’m not sure if she owned the gym or just coached people there) The Mother, sister and cousin came in and sat next to us. I missed my first lift and the Chinese lady gave me a big hug when I came over to sit down. Then I missed my second bench and she told me I’d get the next one and reached into her bag and pulled out a flower lei. She had probably made them earlier in the day. She put it around my neck and gave me a kiss in the Island tradition. It was pretty cool. I still bombed out on the bench. I didn’t even make 198 or 203, both lifts I do regularly in the gym. I attribute it to either 1) jet lag 2) too much home improvement or 3) the lack of a pre meet massage.

Abject poverty

I’m staying at a golf resort in the Makaha Valley. It’s a ANA site and they’re busy selling time shares this weekend. Too bad they didn’t spend a little time putting coffee in my room. I’ve been up for 45 minutes with no coffee. Yeah, this is aggravating. The resturant isn’t much, but the golf course is beautiful. This place is way secluded and you don’t even notice the nonsense of Honolulu or Waikiki. It’s a 45 minute drive. Google called it 35, it’s 45 if you’re hustling and don’t get stuck in traffic. Apparently, they had a terrible homeless problem in Honolulu. So they ran them out. All of them. I haven’t seen a single bum in Honolulu or Waikiki. Waiainae is a totally different story. They’re all up here camping on the beach. Miles and miles of homeless emcampments. You can’t even go to the beach here. I just wonder, with all the money on this island, why can’t they just fix the problem. Get some alcohol and drug services, some job services and some cheap ass housing and be done with it. I saw six sheriffs down there the other day. That is either a raid or a death. Neither is good.

Golf on Oahu

Golf on Oahu so far has been pretty damned good. This course is pretty well known and gorgeous to boot. Today I’m off to Ko’olau. While having my tooth drilled out for a crown last week, my dentist told me about this course in Hawaii that was so tough that the lost ball penalty wasn’t two strokes. To lose a sleeve was nothing. To lose a flat was business as usual. I laughed, I was playing on the North Shore, so I thought. Not so much. Ko’olau is that course. I’ll be stopping at the Sports Authority to pick up a flat of balls to hit into the ravines.

Hey! What the —-!

When I dropped Beauregard off at the puppy resort prison, he’s usually just so fired up to be on an adventure, he doesn’t notice what’s happening until it’s too late. And he’s a good dog so he makes the best of a bad situation, passes notes with the other prisoners, plans an escape, the usual. This time, I slipped off of his collar and she slipped on his nylon lead and he looked at me with the sort of alarm that can only say Hey! What the —-? Wait a minute! I am sooo not staying here without you Mom! Be safe little man, I miss you.


Could you ass clowns jam any more seats onto an airplane? I thank you for getting me here safely and please get me home safely too. Safe sans wet pants. That landing in Honolulu just about did me in. My palms were soaked, I broke out in a complete sweat and the gal sitting next to me said “typical Hawaiian landing”. I’m only 5’4″ and to fold me up to put me into a seat, I can’t imagine what a 6’4″ man does. Ridiculous Air Tran. I am soo not looking forward to folding myself up to get back home. The screaming baby was a nice touch. I really wish the attendant had done something besides smile knowingly. Like knowlingly picked up the little snot and walking him up and down the aisle until he went to sleep? There’s an idea. The parents were overwhelmed and out of their league on this one. And I need a license to have a dog.

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