I got myself a Hubbell Bubble.

This all started with Mike and Liz Hubbell, who live in Puna, building themselves a chicken enclosure. Mike figured out an economical and fairly simple way to build one, and the result so impressed someone from the College of Tropical Ag here that the college is helping them promote it for local backyard chicken farmers. They call it the Hubbell Bubble.

I half got it because of the name. Well, not really, but I do love the name.

Mike and Liz have made the plans available, for free. Or if you pay for parts, they will build you one (they do it at home, in panels) and then bring it and put it up for you a small charge. It is very generous of them, and they do amazing work.

I only first talked to them about this two or three days ago, and then this morning they drove up with all the parts (which they built at home yesterday) on a trailer. I can’t believe how fast it all happened. I love how fast it all happened.

Here is my dog saying, “Will you PLEASE get those chickens put away so I am not tempted to eat them and I can get OUT of here?” I say, “Soon, soon.”

(She is a very happy dog despite everything and wasn’t forlorn, as she seems in this photo. She never looks forlorn. She is a sweet happy puppy. Also, she does get out of there to play. And she has a very cozy sleeping area next door there for nighttime. But she will be happy to be out, free-range, with the other dogs again.)

We had an open-air coop we were using for the hens, but needed to move it. This picture below is of Mike.

Here (below) is here we were heading with it. It’s a level spot my husband made awhile back for our daughter’s swimming pool. The coop wasn’t as hard to move as we had all feared.

Here’s the coop in its new place. The chickens kept a close eye on what was going on all morning. They talked about it a lot, too. Where were we going with their coop? What was the meaning of all this?

Mike and Liz putting the already-made panels into place around the coop.

We had to sacrifice a banana tree to make room for this project, and we left it there inside the chicken enclosure because chickens like eating stuff like that. That’s what that is, on the ground, inside there. It’s kind of messy looking. You wouldn’t want a messy chicken coop.

Framework for the top. The “bubble,” as it were.

It didn’t take long at all to get to the finished product! I present to you:

The Hubbell Bubble.

It’s a Double Hubbell Bubble, actually. I decided we needed it to be 12 x 24, instead of the standard 12 x 12 they sometimes build. Our chickens need space.

We still need to put gravel down on the weed cloth along the edges. Chain link extends out from the bottom for a bit, and then there is weed cloth atop it, and then there will be gravel to hold that all down. This will keep out the mongooses and the dogs. That’s the idea.

We are very happy with my new Double, No Trouble, Hubbell Bubble. We just love it.

Here’s an early adopter of the new chicken accomodations.

“The girls” are roosting in there tonight for the first time. I’m really happy with their new Hubbell Bubble and hope they are too.

You can read more about the Hubbell Bubble at Liz’s blog. Don’t panic if you read the part about dogs breaking into their own chicken yard and killing some of their chickens. That happened, they are careful to explain, because they had modified their original design in a way that, it turns out, wasn’t a good idea. They aren’t doing that anymore.

I didn’t know the Hubbells before arranging to have them build and put up my Bubble, so you can rest assured I’m telling you about this only because we’re so happy with it.

They are very generous with their know-how, energy and help for others who want to raise some of their own food, and take care of their own needs. Neat people and it was great to meet them.

If you’d like to know more, or you’d like your own, you can reach Mike and Liz at 965-8235.

He is, according to Wikipedia, the bow-tie wearing founder, editor, and publisher of Cook’s Illustrated and Cook’s Country magazines, and formerly publisher of the now defunct Cook’s Magazine. I know him from Cook’s Illustrated — what a neat magazine that is. Here’s his Christopher Kimball blog. And I love reading his occasional emails, which talk about the sugar season in Vermont and relay charming small-town stories.

This is a funny, timely, small-town story that came in his email today. Could it be true? He represents it as though it is. And of course it could be — people are crazy.

Back in Vermont, here is a recent story that sounds completely made up. A resident of a nearby town is very well liked but more than a little crazy and a bit of a drinker—you never know what he will do next. His wife came home one day and noticed that he looked a bit shaken. He said, “I caught a troll!” and proceeded to lead her upstairs. When they got to the bedroom, she heard a voice from the closet shouting, “Let me out! Let me out!” Well, he had all sorts of furniture stacked up against the door to keep the troll in. Once the way was cleared, she found a very pleasant, rather short gentleman in disarray, shaken after having spent a few hours locked up inside. He was working for the U.S. Census, had rung the bell, and, as soon as the door had opened, the husband had somehow mistaken him for a troll, spiriting him upstairs. No word yet on the impending lawsuit.

My favorite sentence in this bit is: “…as soon as the door had opened, the husband had somehow mistaken him for a troll, spiriting him upstairs.”

I cannot think of anything else to say about this, except: Thanks for the good laugh!

As my livelihood is all about not writing convoluted anything, my ears perked up and I thoroughly enjoyed listening to it.

Here’s a little tidbit from it:

Mr. MALKI: …I definitely acknowledge that there are legal terms that need to be portrayed, you know, certain guidelines laid out in a very clear and legal way in case it’s ever contested. However, there are a lot of freelance writers who need some work. And they could easily be hired.

Ms. CHEEK: Right. Writing clearly is not easy. And I think writing is one of those things that many people think I don’t need an expert; I can do it myself. But I think it is something that needs an expert, particularly when you have a team of technical people and legal people, I think a critical third member of that team is someone who knows how to write clearly. And very often that team member is not there at all.

Hear the rest of the story at NPR.

I am a clear writer. I don’t like reading things that only make life harder, and if you are suffering with this sort of writing in your business or life, you should call me. I can help.

If you would like a glimpse of what makes me laugh — a primer to my sense of humor, as it were — listen to this audio my mom sent me. I laughed so hard. Then I wiped my eyes and listened and laughed all over again.

trzoccall_to_navy_recruiter

At the beginning of the school year, I watched as Kumu Crabbe called up a second grade student to introduce him/herself, say a prayer and then lead a chant. I remember being so amazed at those small kids standing up there speaking so easily in front of 100+ people. 

I also remember thinking that I couldn’t imagine my daughter and the other kindergartners ever doing it — but then, they were so small, and new to school, and I thought, well, by the time they were in 2nd grade I guess they could. Maybe. Huh. 

And then last month a note came home that we needed to help our student write out their introduction of themselves and their prayer, because they would be the alaka‘i (leader) at ‘oli one day soon. What?! 

Today, it was my girl. We had written her thing at home one day and sent it back to school. I asked her if they were practicing it at school, she said no, and the control freak in me wigged out a little bit. 

But I guess they know what they are doing. These kids are doing great! None of them seem at all nervous about speaking in front of people. I guess there’s something to starting them out this young.

She read through her thing one time this morning in the classroom, before school started, and she looked at the paper and whispered it so softly I mostly had to read her lips.

But then at ‘oli, her voice rang out strong and I, standing off to the side, could hear every word. Some of it was in English and some in Hawaiian, and at the end she led the students in their chant: “Ku mai au he Hawai‘i - pā!” She did great!

“That was wonderful,” said Kumu Crabbe. “You were a wonderful alaka‘i.” She was. It was amazing to see. 

Mrs. Nihipali, my daughter’s teacher, told me that they’re preparing the kids because by the time they get to high school they lead the entire ‘oli. Not just one small part of it like they do at this age. I like that Kamehameha is preparing them to be so capable about speaking and leading like this.

There were a bunch of kupuna, Hawaiian elders, at the school this morning for some reason that I do not know, and they were at ‘oli too. The woman standing next to me had obviously never heard the kids chant. She told me, “Oh my goodness, chicken skin.” I know exactly what she means. It’s hard to put into words, but it’s powerful when these kids chant.

After she finished, Kumu Crabbe told my daughter to please go over and introduce her mom. She came over to me and wrapped herself around me and said, “This is my mom.” Then she went back to her place in line. 

I was really proud of her this morning.

(photo: Kamehameha Schools)

My friend Kris and I were just saying so, and the next day a New York Times article appeared about this exact topic (thus confirming what I thought: that I partly control the world with my mind).

Kris is a cilantro lover. She sent me a recipe that had tons of the stuff in it.

I am not a picky eater, but cilantro (also known as coriander) tastes to me like something that has spoiled and should immediately be thrown away. I immediately threw away the cilantro recipe. Also, I would not be able to stand the wearing of this cilantro hat. 

And then I read the New York Times article, and this:

Culinary sophistication is no guarantee of immunity from cilantrophobia. In a television interview in 2002, Larry King asked Julia Child which foods she hated. She responded: “Cilantro and arugula I don’t like at all. They’re both green herbs, they have kind of a dead taste to me.”

“So you would never order it?” Mr. King asked.

“Never,” she responded. “I would pick it out if I saw it and throw it on the floor.”

I hear you, Julia. I too am a “supertaster” of sorts when it comes to cilantro. Though I have no beef, so to speak, with arugula.

The article goes on: 

The authoritative Oxford Companion to Food notes that the word “coriander” is said to derive from the Greek word for bedbug, that cilantro aroma “has been compared with the smell of bug-infested bedclothes” and that “Europeans often have difficulty in overcoming their initial aversion to this smell.” …

Some people may be genetically predisposed to dislike cilantro, according to often-cited studies by Charles J. Wysocki of the Monell Chemical Senses Center in Philadelphia. But cilantrophobe genetics remain little known and aren’t under systematic investigation. Meanwhile, history, chemistry and neurology have been adding some valuable pieces to the puzzle. (Read more)

I don’t believe we need to throw a lot of money and time into understanding the chemistry and neurology of why cilantro tastes like bug-infested bedclothes smell. There are certainly many things that are much more important. 

But I related to this article and especially to Julia Child. I wish I’d gotten to sit next to her when cilantro was served. We would have tossed our bits of nasty-smelling and -tasting cilantro on the floor to such an extent that birds would have been gathering it up for their nests. 

If birds like cilantro.

It caught my attention, though. It’s pretty neat. The guy behind the blog, Paul Hiffmeyer, is the Chief Photographer for Public Relations at Disneyland. Cool job.

In his first post a couple months ago, he wrote:

…I’m lucky enough to have access to many areas not usually visited by our guests, usually with camera in-hand, and it seems like a good time to share some never-before-seen photos on the Disney Parks Blog.

For the first photo, I wanted to share one that I’ve thought about for a long time, but only recently shot; a long lens photo of a Disneyland Steam Train on a cold morning where the train seems to glide on a steam cloud. Last month on an especially cold morning I set out with my camera and a 28-300 mm lens in hand to capture the No. 3 Engine, Fred Gurley, as it made its way through Frontierland.

There are some other really neat pictures up on the blog, as well. He’s finding interesting scenes and making Disneyland look like we’ve never seen it. He’s capturing the magic.

Check out the Disney Parks blog here.

This is for all the people who live in parts of the country where it’s still snowing. The people who get to wear fluffy jackets and furry hats, and sip hot chocolate by the fireplace, and who take wild sled rides down the hill when the family all gathers for Christmas…. But who just may be a little bit tired of it about now.

Hang in there!

It’s always wonderful, and it seems like ALL of Hilo attends. People start lining up in the morning for the 6 p.m. event. 

We got there in the afternoon, and found seats in section G, which is in the back, but not too far, near where the Royal Court sits. 

My daughter, who’s 6 now, just loves watching hula. She was thrilled to see that the chanter, as the Royal Court was entering, was her Hawaiian language teacher from Kamehameha Schools, and waved shyly to him from her seat though there was no way he could have seen.

We just stayed for the first performance, because she needed to get home to bed. But that first performance! It was Halau O Kekuhi, and my daughter is in their keiki class. She loved seeing what the grownups, and the older keiki, did up on that stage. 

“Will I get to dance on that stage?” she asked me. “If you stay with hula until you are that age, you might, yes,” I replied. “I WILL,” she told me fervently. She has said that many times before. She always wants to keep dancing hula, she tells me.

She is very focused about it. She’s only gone for a couple months, but she knows the songs and the dances and practices them at home of her own volition. I only realized she knows all that by heart when I saw her practicing them at home.

There is something about the Merrie Monarch. I twittered from there last night, and wrote about the beautiful scent of plumeria filling the stadium, and how my daughter has perfected, at her young age, the shriek-cheer while applauding.

I tweeted about the perfect tribute they had to three very important hula people who died recently. It represented Aunty Dottie Thompson’s white lauhala hat and Uncle George Na‘ope’s gold one. There was an oversized pair of sunglasses like the ones kumu hula Rae Fonseca always wore on his head, too.

And I noted the immense feeling of respect that fills that enormous stadium. Thousands of people with such aloha for the cultural history that is hula. I think that’s half the reason I go. To feel that.

The demicolon is one of my favorites.

And there’s more. It’s here at collegehumor.com and it was a lot of fun to read. We’re all getting older, but — who knew? — College Humor is still funny!

Thanks to The Copywriter Underground for spotting this.