I'll get this done and then the next you'll hear from me is when we get to Las Vegas for the WSOP! I'm really psyched about that - I'm ready to get down and live the Vegas poker life.

But first...

Few nights ago, we went out and did the manta ray night dive with Dive Makai. Basically, all the divers from 4-5 different dive operations sit around what can best be described as a big underwater campfire circle. There are a bunch of big lights in the center of the circle, and then each diver has a light which he/she aims up into the water column. All those lights attract plankton, and the plankton attracts mantas. Lots of big mantas. Even a video doesn't begin to do justice to the sensation of having (in our case) 6-8 mantas cruising right around you. The smallest one was maybe 6-8' wingtip to wingtip. The biggest one - I have to say 14'. When that animal would fly 6" above your head, well, visualize the opening scene in Star Wars where the spaceship flies over. You really see nothing except giant white manta underbelly. The grace of these giants is unimaginable. Particularly when two or three or four of them "almost" collide, they just peel away in moves that would leave Blue Angels pilots applauding. The other wild thing is that you look right down their throats, because they're swimming around, inhaling plankton-filled water, and then filtering out the food. So as one approaches you, all you see is the inside of its mouth and throat. Then you think it's going to hit you, then it peels up and away, its wingtip gently lifting to avoid your shoulder (or head) by an inch or two. If you are a diver and go to Kona, this is a must-dive. If you're a diver and are thinking about going to Hawaii, go to Kona, and do this dive. I'm not usually much on "pre-fab" dives (e.g. I won't go on shark dives). And I'm probably being hypocritical about this one, but there you have it. I loved it, and would do it again.

One final comment: there's a moderately big eel named "Steve" who keeps hoping that one day he's going to snare one of the 5" long silver fish that congregate above the manta divers to share in the plankton buffet. Dive Makai warned us that Steve thinks of the divers as rocks in which he can hide before attempting to pounce on the 5" fish above our heads. "If he entwines himself in your gear, don't use your hand to shoo him away - he might think that's food. Just wiggle your shoulders - he doesn't like it when rocks move." Yeah, sure.

So ten minutes into the dive, I look down, and ol' Steve is right next to me, cruising around hoping that tonight will be the night he nails one of those silver fish above us. Heh.

The dive at Honokohau was so nice, we decided to go back and do it again today. Only this time, we were going to go straight out from the beach instead of around the point. The map from Jack's said that there was a nice sand bottom around 90' with lots of rock outcroppings where there'd be cool stuff to see.

We go back there, gear up, walk toward the lava.

Like some sitcom, the same guys are sitting under the same tree.

"Eh, shark man."

"Hey guys - y'all having a good day?"

"The finest."

"Excellent - us too."

We kick out a little way on our snorkels, but, as the name of the dive site implies, the fishing boats are zipping in and out of the harbor entrance right through the bay where we're diving. Boats and divers in the water don't mix too good, so we decided it was time to get seriously underwater. As I went under, I saw a big sea turtle cruising around with a couple of snorkelers from one of the snorkeling boats hot on his heels. Lisa didn't see him as she was getting herself settled in underwater.

We started off in the 300-330 compass direction we'd agreed on, pretty quickly dropping down to a solid 30' of water, which felt good with the occasional boat going directly over our heads. I was thinking about what we'd have to do if we had a "got to get to the surface" emergency. "Don't have one", I wisely thought.

The terrain was somewhat different than the dive yesterday, so that in itself was pretty interesting. But the usual collection of fish were around, including a big trumpetfish that was hunting. As we got down toward the big sand plain at about 75', we saw yet another eagle ray, just like yesterday. But this one was simply on the move and was gone from our visibilitty fairly soon.

I wanted to get down into the plain, but Lisa was diving a small 63 cu. ft. tank and was at "only" 1800 PSI. Lisa is a world class champion of low air consumption, so I wasn't at all worried. Most normal divers would have been at 1200-1300 PSI by that point. So I pointed to a rock tower at the edge of the plain and suggested (via hand signals) that we go down there, have a look around, and then head up the slope. She was agreeable with that, but before we could go, I happened to glance up.

There was a pod of Hawaiian Spinner Dolphins directly above us. In 30 years of diving, I've never had an encounter with dolphins underwater while on scuba. I've seen a few zillion from the surface, and gotten to snorkel relatively near them a few times. But this view - from below the pod - was mindblowing. The pod - maybe 15-20 animals - passed over us 2-3 times zigging and zagging around. At one point, a group of three broke formation and dived down in our general direction.

"Here puppies, c'mere" I thought as hard as my thinker could think.

Didn't work - they got about half way to me and turned back toward the surface. I could see Lisa, inching her way up in the water column, glancing at her gauges and then looking back at the dolphins. She was drawn to them like a moth to flame, but knew she couldn't go too far up (or too fast). Bad physiological things happen if you do. Fortunately, the dolphins left before either of us was really tempted into doing something stupid, from a dive perspective.

After they disappeared to whatever cool place spinner dolphins go, we made our trip down to the edge of the sand plain and grooved on the vista for a bit. Then we turned around and headed for home. Not too far along, I heard Lisa shout through her reg. I turned to see her staring into a hole in a rock formation. She's a moray eel nut, so I kinda figured it was a moray eel. I haven't seen one on this trip, so that was a cool idea. I got back to where she was, poked my head toward the hole and saw the biggest eel I'd ever seen in my life.

It was a Giant Moray. That is, not just a very very big moray eel. They're their own species, and I've only ever seen one before. And it wasn't this big. At its head, it was 8-9" high. I don't even want to think what the body, disappearing back into the rock, looked like.

We watched him for 4-5 minutes and then he just suddenly disappeared. Poof, gone. We motated around to the other side of the rock, but didn't see a thing. How did something that big get that gone that quickly? Who knows?

So now this was easily one of the coolest dives I'd ever been on and I was cruising on up the slope, just grooving on the whole scene thinking how lucky I was to see all this stuff and that's when we saw the tiger shark.

Crossing left to right in front of us, about 30' away, was the largest predatory shark I'd ever seen. [1] It took about five seconds for me to be sure it was a tiger shark, the first three seconds of which were simply confirming to my brain what my eyes were seeing. I've seen a dozen species of "requiem" sharks around the world, including some pretty intense predators, such as the silvertip and oceanic whitetip, But never has anything quite stopped me in my tracks like that.

She was perhaps 12-13' long, and built like a football. Very clear bar markings on her side left no doubt as to her species. I felt Lisa grab my arm - guess she saw it too. To give you a sense of what we were looking at, go read that Wiki article that I linked to. I don't think she was in our field of vision for more than 20 seconds, but I will never forget either the sight or the feeling. An odd cocktail of awe, wonder, with a dash of good ol' sphincter-clinching fear.

I glanced at Lisa. She indicated that we should get down on the bottom of the ocean and head back toward home.

"Hell of an idea," I thought. I also thought, "Teach me to make flippant comments to the locals about seeing big sharks."

We continued up the slope, both of us occasionally turning to look behind us down the slope.

At about 30', we saw a group of 4-5 divers headed in our direction - they'd just jumped off one of the dive boats that was parked in the bay. I motioned them over.

Visualize the following conversation being done totally with hand signals (and wide eyes)...

"There's a shark down that way you're headed."

"Excellent!"

"Big shark."

"Even excellenter!"

Then I remembered that I had the word "tiger" written in white marker on my computer gauge (I have three such gauges; they're named "Tiger", "Blue", and "Whitetip"). I flipped the gauge over and pointed to the word "Tiger".

The leader did a little jig and gave me a double shaka salute. I'd just made her day. Well, okay then.

I hope they saw her.

Lisa and I made it back to the beach with no further excitement. Of course, when you're diving, you can't say anything, so the first meaningful words come out when you first pop out of the water. We popped up, looked at each other. In a low monotone, Lisa said, "Holy shit."

My thought exactly.

We get back up across the lava to the locals barbecue.

"You see the shark bra?"

No more joking. "Um, yes."

"Tiger, eh?"

"Uh-huh."

"Have a little nip taken out her dorsal?"

Oh my god. Yes. My brain instantly recalled that she did. I hadn't really parsed it when I was watching her, but thinking back, I was sure of it.

"Yes! Wait - I've read about her. That's Stubby!"

"Ya man - she all right. People, they go out with cameras and stuff to find her. She lives out there all de time. My friend and me, you saw us spearfishing out there and she didn't bother us, yeah?"

Well heck - it was just another encounter with a friendly Hawaiian local.

Regards, Lee

[1] Whale sharks, which we saw in the Galapagos, are bigger - by a lot. But they're filter feeders.

So normally when we come to Hawaii, Lisa and I do most of our diving from a dive boat, and almost always with Dive Makai. I've been diving with them since 1987. But this time, we decided to do a bunch of shore diving, and, um, wow.

Yesterday, our first full day in Kona, we went over to Jack's Dive Locker to rent gear. Now, if we were normal divers, we'd have our certification cards ("C-cards") with us so we could rent gear. But they're in a box somewhere in transit to Asheville, or whatever. But being the geek I am, I have scanned images of our C-cards on my laptop. That's worked out well more than once - I just dump the PDF onto a USB drive, hand it to the dive shop person and say "Have a look at this bad boy."

That's what we did at Jack's. But the clerk at Jack's, he says "Sorry - I'm not allowed to plug your USB drive into my computer." He said, (I'm not making this up) "As far as our official policy is concerned, you are a potential business terrorist and there's a virus on that USB drive." They were real sorry about it, and tried to think of ways we could get around this rule, but nothing seemed to work. Then Lisa said, "Could you send this file to them as an email?" They said, "Sure!" So I ran back to the condo, and emailed the PDF to them. Which solved everybody's problem and they even printed it out for me so if we're diving with anybody else in Kona, we can just wave this piece of paper at them.

So we were going to head out to Four Mile Marker and do a test/warm-up dive. You know - make sure our weight was right, make sure we had all our gear with us, it worked, etc. We've dived 4MM half a dozen times - it's close to town, a pretty easy entry, great terrain, etc. We mentioned to the Jack's people that that's where we were headed.

"Hmmmm. We've got a south swell today, and Four Mile Marker is exposed to the south. You ever dived right outside Honokohau Harbor?"

"No."

"It's a dynamite site - in fact, you'll be diving at three of the mooring buoys that the dive boats use. Easy entry, etc. Here's a map showing you how to dive it."

The more they talked, the more better it sounded, so we went there - a ten-minute drive from downtown Kailua-Kona. We parked on the asphalt/gravel/dirt lot, suited up, and headed toward the short walk over the lava rock to get to the beach where you make your entry. On the way, we passed a gathering that you see all over Hawaii - a bunch of locals, sitting in and around a truck or jeep under a tree, sipping beer, and waiting for the fish to grill on the barbecue. These people have perfected the art of doing nothing and I stand in awe of their que sera sera ease. Most of us could learn a thing or two from it.

One of the fellows makes a comment as we walk by, decked out in dive gear, tanks, weights, etc.

""Eh, bra, [1] you know there one big shark out there."

"Yeah, but we like sharks."

"Have a good time, yeah?"

"We will, for sure."

We make it across the lava rocks, and go into the water, put our fins on and head out. There are (at least) two distinct dives in this bay. We've chosen to kick out around a point to the left of the beach and head almost due north, down the slope toward deep water. The Big Island of Hawaii is by far the youngest of the Hawaiian chain (not counting Loihi, which won't make it out of the ocean for another little while), so the volcanic slopes are the steepest, and there's the least topsoil, which means less silt going in the water, which means better visibility. Ding. So we were grooving on 70-80' visibility, cruising over the coral, just having a big time watching all the fish.

Then a big old blue trevally started circling us. They're fast powerful predators, and it was fun watching him make a number of close fly-bys.

At about 80', we hit a ledge down to a large plain that was maybe 10-20' below us. It's always cool to look across such plains - you never know what might be swimming around down in there. With good visibility, as we had, you can see animals doing their natural thing at a distance where they're not bothered by you.

So that's when we saw the eagle ray, busily feeding in the sand down in the plain - about 30 feet from us. They eat crustaceans, and this guy was swimming around in a pretty tight pattern, digging into the sand with his nose. It's one thing to see some animal underwater. It's a whole 'nother thing to see that animal doing something - like in this case, feeding.

I guess we were there ten minutes or so when the dive computers started to get mildly antsy. So we waved good-bye to the eagle ray, and moseyed back up the slope. On the way back up, I saw two of the dive boat buoys. Which means people pay good money to go out on a dive boat, and the dive boat (on an occasion) drives to this particular mooring buoy and throws the customers in the water. So they can dive right where we were diving, but paying a whole lot more for the privilege. Serious opportunity EV there for us.

On the way up the slope, I found a pretty new fishing lure on the bottom. I picked it up and kept it with me all the way in - I figured I'd give it to one of the locals barbecuing under the tree.

As got toward the top of the slope, we could see where the waves were hitting the point on the west side of the beach, so we just cut toward 10 o'clock, and landed right at the sandy part of the beach. Sweet!

80 feet, 40 minutes. Perfecto.

Got back across the lava rock with the gear, walked up to the local's barbecue.

"Hey guys - you know that shark you told us about?"

"Yeah - you see him?"

"Sure did. He had this in his mouth." And I dropped the lure into the guy's hand. They laughed hard.

Regards, Lee

[1] "bra" is short for "brother", and is to the Hawaiian tongue as "dude" is to the Southern Californian one. [2]

[2] Classic Hawaiian joke: "What do you call a haole learning to speak pidgin ?" "A training bra."

Hi everybody -

Unless you've been living under a rock, you know that the World Series of Poker is getting underway tomorrow.

What you may not know is that CardRunners has a huge presence there, and I hope you'll come and join the fun. We've got a booth right outside the registration area, and there's a new "all-satellite" room that we're sponsoring.

Please look for CardRunners pros and staffers everywhere at the WSOP, and if you see one of us, come up and introduce yourself. We know that you folks - our members - keep the lights turned on here and we'd love to meet all 10,000 of you and shake your hand.

I'll be there from June 6th-10th and then June 20th - July 10th (or thereabouts). I look just like the guy on the website, so if you see me, please do come say hi.

But even if you're there when I'm not, Ezra Galston, the director of marketing for CardRunners, already has a team in place there, and I know he'd love to say hi to you as well. Just please be undersatnding if he looks and like he's trying to do 73 things at once - he probably is.

We're looking forward to seeing you there.

If you're playing in any of the events (or satellites or side games), well, I don't wish poker players good luck - especially not CardRunners members. Instead, play well and make good decisions; I hope you make two or three final tables.

Regards, Lee

I'm sitting here in the condo at Hale Kona Kai, enjoying the sound of the surf immediately underneath our lanai. The surf zone below is tinged a bright yellow because of the giant school of yellow tangs feeding in it. Easily 100+ fish in there.

I've been coming to Hale Kona Kai for over 20 years now, and it's never disappointed. It's not fancy, there's no golf or restaurants or nightclub or valet service. But each condo is individually owned, and has a full kitchen, living room, and bedroom. This one (#301) was recently remodeled with granite countertop, ceramic tile floors, etc. But basically the big draw is that you go to sleep at night listening to the surf - no better sleeping potion exists. #301 being a corner room we have a 180-degree view of the Kona bay.

It's a three-minute walk to Java-on-the-Rock, where you sit at tables in the sand, four feet from the water's edge, and sip the richest coffee I've ever had outside Fiji. Remember, when you get Kona Coffee at your local St*rbucks or whatever, it's usually a "blend" (i.e. 10% Kona). 100% Kona is a completely different beast. For extra credit, you get the "peaberry" coffee, which has an even richer flavor.

Since Lisa and I don't do the golf or shopping or spa thing, we stay in places like this and pour all of our vacation budget into diving with Dive Makai and high-end coffee. For us, that's serious +EV right there.

Which brings me to the point that we're about to eat the sushi we grabbed at the KTA, and then head over to Jack's Diving Locker to get tanks and weights. Then it's down to Four Mile Marker for a warm-up refersher shore dive and time to commune with the yellow tangs on their own territory.

Aloha everybody.

Regards, Lee

P.S. Everybody put a comment here with your best Hawaii and/or diving story!

I've had cause these past few days to reflect on the inestimable value of friends.

I mentioned that I drove down to Greenville, SC to get a plane out to the west coast. I didn't mention that Brad Willis (yes, the legendary PokerStars blogger) was kind enough to let me park my car there while I was on the left coast. And then when I told him my plans, demanded to give me a ride to the airport at five-frigging-Ante-Meridian (I was going to take a cab).

So he does, indeed, do this, with a smile on his face and a bounce in his step. Unbelievable. But I hadn't taken sufficient advantage of him - no. I got to the airport and realized that in my semi-conscious transfer of my luggage to Brad's car I'd left my cell phone in my car. In Brad's driveway. And I won't be reunited with that car for about six weeks.

I sent Brad an email - could he possibly drop the phone in FedEx or the moral equivalent to go to my friends' house in San Jose? By the time I landed in San Jose, there was a reply saying that Brad's lovely and delightful wife, Michelle, had already shipped the thing to me and it would arrive the next day.

And speaking of arriving in San Jose, when I got there, Brigitte, the more attractive half of our friends Uge and Brigitte, was waiting for me at baggage claim. It is a passing good thing that in the calculus of friends doing favors for friends, well, there really is no calculus. Because if there were, we'd owe Uge and Brigitte our cars and half our house. See, since we've been over in the UK, they've acted in loco parentis for our sons, stored our (and our son's) belongings, helped get our San Jose house ready to sell, and more stuff that I don't remember.

So when Lisa and I arrived in San Jose on Wednesday, Brigitte and Uge once again played host for us - we were massively appreciative guests in their home. Which was really cool. Years ago, Uge and his housemate Berend would come over to our house fairly frequently because, well, they couldn't cook, and we really enjoyed their company. They'd play with the boys and the dog, we'd feed them a home-cooked meal (served outdoors when weather permitted) and a fine time was had by all.

I've missed those times and it was great to visit Uge and Brigitte in their new home, play with their insanely cute border collie, Sophie, and generally wallow in their hospitality (including home-made blackberry jam for the PBJs).

Anyway, the point of all this is that when you have friends such as Brad, Michelle, Uge, Berend, and Brigitte, you feel extra special - like you've been hit hard with the lucky stick. I try not to take those friendships for granted, but this past week has been a particularly strong reminder of what a blessing it is to have people like that in my life.

That's all - plane starting to board for Hawaii - the next report will be from the sunny Kona Coast.

Regards, Lee

As I type this, Lisa and I are driving through the San Gabriel Mountains, headed into L.A. It's been another crazy week.

I spent 4-5 days in Asheville getting the house ready. First thing was getting the office set up, but that didn't take too long. Then the bedroom. I was putting together our bed - it's a beautiful queen-size solid pine bed with both head and footboards, with pineapples at the top of all four corners. It's a pretty easy job for two people, but pretty insane for one. Well, at some point, I'm messing around with the cross pieces, when somebody steps up behind and hits me over the head - hard, and then drops something huge on the floor. It really disoriented me for a second, which is not surprising because I was by myself in the house. A second or two later I regained full awareness and realized that the footboard had fallen over and one of the pineapples had whacked me in the back of the head as it was falling. I stood there for a minute, recited my phone number, new address, and the day of the week. So far so good. I reached behind my head, and felt blood, but not much.

Take away lesson: the difference between a nuisance ("Man - that really hurt") and a disaster is measured in centimeters. That bed post could have given me a concussion or even a life-altering closed head injury.

I got the bedroom set up without further excitement, and installed a shower rod and (quite styling, if I do say so myself) shower curtain in the master bathroom. So now I had a place to sleep and a place to take a shower - things were really looking up.

Then it was time to take on the kitchen. I can't believe how much kitchen stuff we own. But like a good little geek, I went around and put post-its on all the cabinets and drawers so I could remember what I was putting where. It took one full day but I got everything put away.

Then it was washer/dryer time. Lisa found an almost new washer/dryer combination on Craigslist for a really good price. But how to get it to the house? I spoke to our builder, who gave me Colin's name and phone number. When you have a new house in an unfamiliar community, you should know somebody like Colin - that is, a guy about 6'3" with a pick-up truck. So I gave Colin $50 and he and a buddy met me at this lady's apartment and hauled both appliances back to my house. [1]

So that takes us to May 21st, and a pre-dawn drive to Greenville, SC (75 minutes away) to get a flight out to San Jose.

More in the next one.

Regards, Lee

[1] Washing machines now weigh substantially less than they did in the "old" days when I first started moving them. I think they've gone to more advanced agitator technology, because the first couple of times I helped move a washing machine, I thought I was gonna die. I'm 25 years older now, and it felt a lot easier than the ones I moved in my 20's.

[Warning - this may run long and/or ramble. I won't be hurt if you just stop reading at some point]

So, I've been in the U.S. one whole week. It seems like a lot longer than that, but a lot has happened.

First, I spent three days at my parents' house in the D.C. suburbs. This is not breaking news, but there's something both comforting and a little weird about going back to the house in which you grew up (in my case, since the age of 3). Of course, some things are the same, but many things are different, bordering on unrecognizable. It was wonderful hanging out with my folks (and Dr. sister briefly). We went out for crabcakes (well, we were in Maryland for chrissake) and Gifford's ice cream. If you know Gifford's ice cream, stand up and say "Yeah!" I can remember going to the original Gifford's ice cream store on Wisconsin Avenue in Bethesda and eating ice cream sodas. [1] If you remember the old Gifford's store on Wisconsin Ave., stand up and say "Yeah!" [2]

For Mother's Day, my dad had a gospel singalong in Takoma Park [3] that afternoon. Normally, my mom has to make a casserole for him to take to his singalongs. So I said, "I'll make it so you don't have to cook on Mother's Day". You'd have thought I just handed her round-the-world tickets on the QE2 or something. She said it was the best Mother's Day present she ever got. I made chicken stew, which was pretty good if I do say so myself. The only downside: I like to make chicken stew or soup from an entire bird. That way you get the fat melting into the pot and the base is an honest-to-poultry chicken broth; unfortunately, Mom only had boneless skinless chicken breasts (which are better for you, of course). But Dad said the entire pot was consumed; I guess it was all right. In the meantime, Mom and I went out for Afghan food, of which there's a ton in the D.C. area. We went to a place off Old Georgetown in Bethesda, and somehow got seated immediately, right there on Mother's Day. I had Koresht Bademjan (already I'm expecting the posts from people who really know their Afghan food names correcting my spelling), which rocked substantially, and Mom had a lamb and spinach stew, which was equally yummy. We started with Kadu, which is pumpkin with a yogurt-meat sauce - it's my go-to appetizer in Afghan restaurants, and has never let me down.

When we got back from dinner, I did something weird. I drove (in the pouring rain) about a quarter of a mile and crashed a dinner party including none other than StellarWind - one of the ace limit hold'em pros at CardRunners. See, it turns out that he was my brother's best friend in elementary school and junior high. [4] He was down with his family visiting his folks for his mom's birthday, and they were kind enough to let me hang out with them and eat homemade cake. We sat and talked about all the old times in the neighborhood, how much things have changed, etc. I owed a particular debt of gratitude to StellarWindMom. Her father had owned acres and acres of pasture/horse land when I was a kid, and his property (including a righteous small stream) was our playground, fishing hole, adventure destination, etc. I formally thanked StellarWindMom for that at the party.

The other coolest thing that happened: my folks and I went down to the National Cathedral on Saturday. They were celebrating their 100th anniversary, which is kind of funny. See, having just lived in the UK for two and a half years, they've got churches that are a thousand years old. I mean, sheesh, the little lady selling you postcards at Westminster Abbey is close to 100 years old. [5] But whatever, for the National Cathedral's 100th birthday, they'd commissioned this amazing light show, where they projected cool light patterns up on the entire cathedral. So we drove down there and got within a mile or so, and then hoofed it down Wisconsin Ave to the cathedral. [6] When we first got there, there weren't a lot of people, and I felt kinda bad for the organizers. But as darkness fell and it got close to the light show, the entire front courtyard of the cathedral (which is big) was filled with people. It was a very "NPR" crowd, I have to admit, but still, it was fun to be part of it. And when the lights finally went up on the face of the cathedral, you could hear the oohs and aahs just like a fireworks display. They also had a soundtrack of music from all over the world and all over time, which produced some spine-tingling moments. At one point, there was some extremely colorful wavy pattern on the cathedral, and they were playing a polyphonic motet or mass (think Gregorian chant, but with multiple melodic lines going at once). That in itself was pretty awesome, but then they mixed right over that a guy singing in Arabic (I think) - sounded like a Muslim call to worship. Whoever thought of that is a genius - it gave me chills.

Monday, I drove down to North Carolina. The drive (I-81 between Front Royal and Wytheville) takes you through some of the most beautiful scenery in the eastern U.S. - the western edge of the Shenendoah Valley. It was quite comforting to be back in those hills, and quite a treat to think, "Hey - I'm going to be living among mountains just like these".

I stopped at my cousin Roald's house on the way to the family vacation cabin in North Carolina. He and his wife, Ellie have a daughter named Rosy, who's a total treat. She's graduating from high school this year, and seeing her reminded me what I'd been missing while I was out of the country. I mean, Roald and Ellie look and sound about the same. But Rosy's completely different and I'm glad I got to see her before she heads off to college. I just rolled up to those people's house without calling or anything, and the next thing I know, I'm in their kitchen eating chicken and home-baked biscuits and asparagus and spinach that came from the garden, and I thought, "Man, it's good to be back". Which was before the home-made chocolate chip cookies came out.

I only got a day and a half at our family vacation home. I was hoping to get some trout fishing in there, but I took a bad beat. I won't go into details (I hate bad beat stories) but the short answer is this: if you're going to own a vacation home/cabin kind of thing that goes months without being used, know a good plumber.

I drove down to Asheville day before yesterday to get us moved into the new house. Lisa isn't here yet, so I have move-in duty. Or at least, "Be there when the movers arrive" duty. So yesterday at lunch time, I found myself standing a house surrounded by boxes everywhere. But the house is absolutely wonderful - it is so great to be in this neighborhood (Montford, for the Asheville-savvy). When the weather's nice, we can easily walk into downtown. I've got my office set up, and there's trees in every direction when I look out my office window.

Last night, I got to thinking, "Why does Thursday night seem important?" Then it struck me that Thursday night might be "bluegrass jam at Jack of the Wood" night. Which it was. So I grabbed the dobro and high-tailed it down to the pub. Next thing you know, I was in the middle of a raging jam with some extremely hot young pickers. Oh, and the 40-year-old Japanese guy with a mullet and a Martin who was channeling Tony Rice with his wicked solos. I picked hard for two and a half hours, and then hung around for a little while to get to know the kids I was picking with. They said, "There's jams and stuff everywhere - you'll find 'em." So I will.

And then today, I was at Lowe's getting hardware, as one does when one has a new house. Driving out of the parking lot, I got a little turned around and ended up driving past a park near a Wal-Mart. There was a river (apparently the Swannanoa) running right along the edge of the park. And there tacked to a tree, next to the river, next to the park, was a sign saying that that stretch of the Swannanoa is hatchery supported trout water. Now I'll tell you, I never once drove out of the parking lot of a Home Depot or Wal-Mart in San Jose and stumbled onto an honest-to-Lee-Wulff trout stream.

Anyway, I think Asheville is going to suit me just fine. Of course, there's no casino poker for a zillion miles in any direction. Which isn't that big a deal - I hear you can play it on the Internet. But I may feel the need to have a home game some time, so if you're a western North Carolina CardRunners member, keep your eye on this space.

In the meantime, I'm gonna just sit back and watch the rain water the rhodedendrons.

Regards, Lee

[1] You make a slurry of selzer water and a little ice cream. Then you add in chocolate syrup and more selzer water and a couple of scoops of ice cream. Then you put on the whipped cream and pop a cherry on top.

[2] Sit down; you're lying. That store was gone long before you were born.

[3] Sometime residence of FullTilt honcho Andy Bloch.

[4] Yes, the world is a microdot.

[5] Which reminds me: if you've never been to Westminster Abbey, make a point of going there when you're anywhere near London. Do not go on the weekend and do not go at the height of summer. But if you can get there when it's "relatively" uncrowded, it's a mind-blowing experience.

[6] My mom and dad are 80 and 78 years old respectively. They think of walking a mile as most people their age would think of walking half a block. I hope I have that kind of stamina when I'm their age.

Wow. So for the first time in almost two years, I'm back on U.S. soil. I can't really describe the feeling that I got when I landed at Dulles airport, outside Washington. I'm not Mr. Super Patriot. In fact, there have been a lot of times when I"ve been pretty damned ashamed to be a U.S. citizen. But I've learned two important facts:

1. Everybody, everywhere, should take the opportunity to live in somebody else's country for a while. It broadens your perpective (and thus your humanity) in ways that you can't fathom until you do it. I feel immeasurably improved and enlightened by our Excellent European Adventure.
2. There is, indeed, no place like home.

I was blown away to step outside the airport terminal and get hit over the head with the musk of a post-rain northern Virginia spring. You never foget smells like that and it was an instant reminder that I was well and truly (to borrow a phrase) home.

I'm sure that these smells, sights, and sounds will return to their former state of the normal, the expected, the routine. But for now, I am marinating in the warmth of familiar things that I've been away from for a long time. I am certainly a changed man - for the better, I hope. But some things never change, and for me, anyway, the need to touch and smell the old and familiar is one of those constants.

Regards, Lee

If you are anywhere near London, and aren't doing anything tonight (Saturday May 10th), drop everything and go see Into The Hoods. It's at the Novello Theatre, right off the Strand, and tonight is its last night.

I'm not into hip-hop music or culture.

I'm not into musical theatre.

But I was blown away by this show, and the ZooNation dance troupe that put it on. Sampling from five decades of music (including Prince's "Kiss" and the MC Hammer classic "U Can't Touch This"), a dozen young people put on a display of atheleticism, grace, and the sheer joy of dancing that made me glad to be alive. The audience screamed and hollered its approval and an amazing evening was had by all.

We had seen Spamalot the evening before. I am a huge Monte Python fan, and Holy Grail (from which Spamalot is "lovingly ripped off") is one of my favorite five movies of all time. That said, I gave it a 6-7/10.

Into the Hoods gets 9.5/10.

The plot is a little weak, but meh, you don't go to the theatre for deep plot development. Wait until you see a character walk out of a video projected onto the back wall and into the stage.

My favorite bit: on a darkened stage, the entire cast dancing a sophisticated pattern in perfect unison, wearing black suits with a reflective stripe up the sides and shoulders. The soundtrack? "For What it's Worth" by the Buffalo Springfield, Stephen Stills' haunting classic aligning perfectly with the intent and images. There should have been wild applause and shouting of approval, but it was obvious - the audience was in a trance. Even as the soundtrack devolved into purposeful static, not a sound from the crowd.

It was the adrenaline hit you go to a live performance for.

If you miss Into the Hoods, watch out for whatever ZooNation does next. Or catch them on YouTube.

Okay, it's on you now. Remember, this wasn't my thing, and it was one of the best 2-3 shows (concert, dance, theatre, etc) I've ever seen.

Regards, Lee