My Maui adventure in 16 photos

My Maui adventure nears culmination and I am forced to reflect on my past year. Unemployment plays tricks on the mind, yes it does. My reasons for the move to Maui were for adventure and professional advancement.

I was told I won't be able to make it because Maui was too expensive and that it was too far away. Most people were very excited for me to embark on this voyage. If it sucked, I could always come back right? But still there were a few naysayers. My old man explained to me that it is the people that try to talk you out of something or are really down on your ideas that are most afraid of adventure themselves. They try to talk you out of it because they are too insecure to attempt it themselves and would rather see you not go then to go and be successful.

As far as professional development goes, unless you consider being called "fucking haole" professional development, i would consider this a wash. What I did get was a years worth of expeirence and a new found respect for Asian culture. The Asian children are wonderfully motivated and very respectful. For instance, I probably will always remember Charles K. at the end of every health class coming up to me to shake my hand and thank me for class.

Obligatory Maui sunset shot - Kihei, Hi

Pug and the beach

Iao School, Wailuku, Hi - How can a building evoke so many mixed emotions?

But it wasn't all bad! Waihee Ridge, Maui, Hi - Hike w/ students

Waihee Ridge Trail

In search of "Jaws" in all of her 60 foot glory - Pai'a, Maui, Hi

Enjoying post-Jaws beverages
(this drinking session caused the projectile vomit picture in my May 5th post)

Grave at La Parusse, Maui, Hi

Iao Valley, Maui, Hi

Japanese structures at Iao Valley

Juggs and I tearing up the surf - Cove Park, Kihei, Maui, Hi

Unknown, Maui, Hi

Tedeschi Winery, Ulupalukua, Maui, Hi

K-bone and I putting on a volleyball clinic w/ the Bosnians as our students.
Charley Young beach, Kihei, Maui, Hi

Toti and the Bosnians, gonna miss you fellas!

No picture album would be complete with out the strikingly beautiful Colette

People have a hard time understanding why I would want to leave this wonderful place (read my August posts). It's really not bittersweet, I have nothing left here and I am excited about my departure. I came, I saw, I did what I need to do but at the end of the day, is this where I want to spend the rest of my life? Figuring I live to 90, I have roughly 70 short years to do what I want to do and live where I want to live. You can call it a quarter life crisis, I just call it keeping my options open. To wherever life takes me ...

Big Island, Hawai'i part 1

I dig Big Island. There are several places on the island that remind me of Montana, which in my mind, is a very good thing. More pictures to come!

Catching some shut-eye while the girls buy soveniers to fill the empty void they call their souls.

View from the rental we stayed at in Kona, Big Island, Hawai'i

Pololu Valley Lookout, Big Island, Hawai'i

Pololu Lookout, Big Island, Hawai'i

Pololu Valley, Big Island, Hawai'i

View from Highway 250, between Waimea & Hawi, Big Island, Hawai'i

Active steam vents in Volcano's National Park, Big Island, Hawai'i

Lava tube in Volcano's National Park, Big Island, Hawai'i

Rock opening that leads into the ocean, Ka Lae (South Point), Big Island, Hawai'i

View from Ka Lae (South Point), Big Island, Hawai'i

Irish Car Explosives

I don't really know how to start this post or what to write. It has little to no substance as far as text goes. What it lacks in written depth, it more then makes up for in visual stimuli.

Whenever I come up with a clever, malicious or just plain racially charged saying, I nearly burst in excitement waiting for the best moment to unleash it on the world. The best one of recent memory has to be when I set up my friend "The Professor" and explained that the strawberry jello jar was "as tight as the virgin Mary." The Professor, being the devote Catholic he is, guilted me into a half-ass apology for the comment.

Just so happens that I was talking to Caitlin while waiting for a flight at Boise International Airport and she mentioned something about drinking and how she really hasn't had that many drinks of the mixed variety. Because I share a love that has been forged over a couple of decades for Guinness, I blurted out, "I love Irish car bombs!!!" It only took a second to realize that in an airport, "bomb" most likely is not the word you want to be yelling into a cell phone. It was there that the new, more airport friendly term "Irish car explosion" was born.

I was unable to conjure up any origin dates pertaining to the birth of the Irish Car Bomb. I do know however, that it is quite popular amongst the younger crowd so it was to my extreme pleasure that I coerced Colette's mother, Mary to join me in a round. Now for the record Mary, or Mare as I affectionately refer to her as, is no spring chicken. Baring the receipt of carbon dating tests performed recently, we can only assume she is at least 38 years old and no older then ..well ... never mind.

This is Mare's maiden voyage on the ship S.S Pickled Liver. I know, it brought a tear to my eye as well.

If God played puck he'd probably play wing to Steve Yzerman

I am not a complex individual. Some of my earliest memories involve bitter cold, sharp objects and contusions varying in degrees of seriousness. No, I am not talking about my initial decent into this world. I still to this day stand by the fact that I remember being born. Instead, I am talking about Hockey. I am addicted to Hockey. Plain and simple.

Let me quantify how much I enjoy the sport. These are my lifelong top priorities.
1. Not work
2. Hockey
3. Screw(ing)

Before you go and chastise me for my apparent misappropriated ranking of Hockey in the number two slot, I believe it's worth noting that the less I work, the more Hockey I play. And rounding out with number three with "screw(ing)" is kind of a no-brainer.

For those of you new to the sport, let me give you the Cliff Notes version.

Hockey was first thought to be played in the 1500's. Although Canadians will vehemently defend otherwise, it wasn't invented in the Great North. Instead, most historians point toward the Europeans for its inception. It have also been suggested that the Irish paid a pivotal roll in the games formation, which to the amusement of everyone, would be the first and subsequent last useful contribution the Micks forged.

Fun facts;
1. Frozen cow dung was used as a puck
2. The last helmet-less goalie played in 1974. Even a laymen could assert that a 6 ounce piece of hardened rubber penetrating your skull at 100 mph would most likely cause facial injury and possibly loss of sight and hearing. Such an act is considered wildy unsafe and reckless by today's standards, correct? Also considered unsafe and reckless and causing injuries eerily similar to the ones listed above, would be Peter Gabriel, who ironically started a solo career in 1974. Coincidence?
3. The Stanley Cup has been part of many a wild celebration. In fact, the cup had been found overnight in a channel after a drunken hockey club threw it there in the hours that proceeded the long evening of joyous festivities. It has also taken part in the the baptismal of children and it has made it's way onto tops of mountain, the white house, and Lenin's tomb. Word around the campfire is Stanley has made it to a titty bar or two. Stanley you dirty dawg you!
4. Steve Yzerman is God.

Some of my youngest child hood memories involve getting new skates for my birthday and then waiting for the lake to freeze. After the lake froze, the ole' man and I would shovel of a sizable surface suitable for play. Without fail, usually within hours, some asshole on a snowmobile would drive over the rink on a warm day rendering it damn near worthless. Really that part isn't important. Hockey is, was, and will be all I ever think about.

Here is some hot action of me in net. First, here is the obligatory clip of me getting owned on a high backhand.



I actually saved this backhand shot. That save brought my save percentage up to .200



Another homogenous save

Angry letter writing consumer strikes again!

That should be my pen name but instead I want corporate America to know exactly who is being a pain-in-their-ass . It's more of a therapeutic measure than anything else. Some suggest I might have a problem. Most just think I have too much time on my hands.

Free stuff I have scored via sharply worded letter and verbal protest;

1. 25 dollar gift certificate and hand written apology letter from Taco Bell
Reason?: I waited 22 minutes in the drive through at 8pm
2. One month DirecTv programming
Reason?: Honestly, I don't remember.
3. One month Verizon service
Reason?: Sub-par reception in my apartment
4. Free Canon Digital camera from Wal-Mart
Reason?: Accidentally soaked my digital camera in apple juice. Funny thing is I bought it from Best Buy. Wal-Mart is wicked easy to scam and they are an even multi billion dollar nameless corporation. Everyone wins!
5. Panda Express - Free 3 Entree Meal
Reason?: 25 minutes before close I went to Panda Express, P.E for brevities sake, to get one orange chicken and two kung pao chicken. They only had enough for one portion and refused to make me another dish. Friends of mine know exactly how serious I am about my kung pao chicken. Suffice to say, I wasn't exactly elated with the Chinaman's gaffe and misappropriation of precious aforementioned delicacy. Three minutes worth of email and six days later, I had a free meal voucher.
6. Hawaiian Airlines gives me a 300 dollar travel voucher.
Reason?: Hawaiian loses my bags for five days. I call four different times and then 30 days later, travel voucher appears.
7. Hp/Compaq - Free laptop
Reason?: I am currently writing a hate letter write now. The issue is about 80% resolved. A complex litigatory gag order prevents we from expounding. I will post when to issue has been resolved.

September 10^th

Dear Home Depot (Kalispell, MT store),

Every time I contemplate entering a Home Depot store, I struggle with a conflict of interest. While Home Depot typically has the best selection of products, and good prices, it also comes with the deserved reputation of scarcity when it comes to receiving help. The joke around these parts is you have a better chance of finding Jimmy Hoffa then any help in Home Depot.

So it was no surprise to anyone that when I needed help, assistance was no where to be found. The product I was trying to get to was a new pallet of roofing felt paper. It was on the second shelf about five feet in the air. Not seeing an employee in sight, and after doing a couple of laps around neighboring isles in hope of obtaining assistance, it became clear I would be assisting myself. A fellow shopper lent me a knife to peel away the protective plastic barrier. Just as was loading the 3^rd roll of felt paper on my cart I heard a voice. “You need to take the rolls from the bottom,” the voice firmly protested. I retorted that the rolls from the bottom were heavily tattered and I wanted the ones in good condition. Somewhat agitated he said, “Well, I’d help you but I am too busy right now,” and then made his way to another isle. I was completely dumbfounded, and to complicate matters, he left in such haste I was unable to get his name tag to report this blatant disregard to a supervisor. Sadly, after I thought about it, he probably was supervision. There was no, “I’m sorry to have erroneously accused you of wrong doing.” Just as there was no “just a moment sir let me radio someone over to help you.”

At the end of the day, however, I did learn a valuable lesson. While good prices and an expansive product selection are desirable attributes to boast, an inept and rude sales staff is not. Thank you for settling my "conflict of interest."

Sincerely,

Garrett Hohn

Festering viral blister ... relax ladies, it was on my back.

So, I woke up last night and was like, "wtf is the middle of my back tender?" One of the several issues associated problems with have a severely disproportioned torso is being unable to reach a good portion of your back. The only other person afflicted with this debilitating syndrome is my sister. Mel and I sat down at our weekly meeting a couple months ago and sussed out a list of hurdles we endure in day-to-day living.

1. Aesthetics - this is pretty obvious. Ok, so my t-shirt comes up above my belly button. So what.? You don't have to stare and you certainly don't have to sire the eye balls of everyone around you to heckle and ridicule. Fuck you and your buy-off-the-rack pretension!
2. Increased difficulty performing a squat - If you have ever witness anyone perform a squat that has a long torso, you know it is awkward at best and can be best likened to an accordion being played.
3. Back problems - Problems not unlike the ones that Dachshunds have been dealing with for centuries.
4. Not being able to reach all the parts of your back. No explanation needed.

Don't have a pity party for Mel and I just yet. We are applying for disability as we speak.

But I digress. This post isn't about daily discrimination I face, nay, that's far too obvious. Instead, this disability has caused me to endure my most recent plight. Awaken from my slumber and unable to alleviate my worried mind, I tossed and turned until I was able to solicit medical attention this morning from ... my mother.

I showed her my back and she was immediately concerned. Possible culprits that she cited were a boil, pimple, wart, flesh eating spider bite, and I don't know where this one came from but
, STD. After I assured her that this absolutely wasn't a wart, we further narrowed down the list with everyones favorite doctor - the internet.

Refusing to heed published wisdom, father and I decided the best course of action was surgery. Not ones to half-ass anything, we took all the necessary precautions. We learned from Rambo II that in order to properly sterilized a surgical instrument, be it a Rambo knife, needle, or prison shiv you need to apply fire. After instrument sterilization was preformed we prepped the area with peroxide and a piece of bounty that more mimicked a dental damn than anything medical.



Anyways, you can see that it didn't look like a pimple. It didn't excrete anything puss-like just a little blood. So, at this point we are at an impasse.

I've got nothing on this guy though!

http://youtube.com/watch?v=vd0uDaIZIyg

Proof that I do work

If the Olympics had a logging event, we'd be in it. Conversely, if the Olympics had a "special" division .... oh wait, they do. Just the same we'd probably be in that too.

Notice the stature of the logs taken. My father calls this insatiable desire to harvest the largest log in the forest "wood envy."

The "Silver Bullet" earning her keep

Darbo, also known simply as "the best dog in the world,"clearly consumed with obsequiousness because of my enthusiastic, and perhaps somewhat questionable, use of large farm machinery as a photographic prop.

Darby, in her perpetually steeped tranquil state, is not impervious to the occasional episode of harassment.

Me peeling a log. And then I went into the outhouse and ... peeled a log.
How the hell did he make it in this blog? Anyways, this is the outhouse I spoke of.
Hard at work.

Recovering from hard work.