HEAR ME ROAR

The addiction to salary

For the most part, I earn a decent salary.

Still, it's not enough to live in Hawai'i, where the average single-family home price hovers around $600,000 and a gallon of milk can cost up to $7.

I can't afford a down payment on even a decent-sized condo, much less think about upgrading my 2000 Honda Civic.

And yet, it's so hard to consider taking another, lesser-paying job.

I've thought about ditching my journalism ambitions to work at a nonprofit or teach at a preschool — the kind of careers that you go into for love and not money. But no matter how bad my workday, no matter how annoying some coworkers can be, no matter how unreasonable my workload — I can't think of another job that affords me this lifestyle with this paycheck.

A part of me has always wanted to do something more meaningful with my life, to save something, to help someone. And the longer I've been a reporter, the less I feel I do that in my daily job. Sure, we write stories that maybe shed light on an important subject. Or maybe we help a school drum up support for an under-financed program. But it's not the same as protecting Hawai'i's coral reefs or helping a struggling teen get into college.

And yet, we don't pay these people enough.

Or am I just addicted to my salary?

My mom has always said people find a way to make it work. If I took a $20,000 paycut, I'd just adjust.

It sounds a lot easier said than done.

But I guess you can't put a price on loving your job.

Can't beat Hawai'i'is shave ice

Shave ice.

It's not something you find outside of the Islands.

Unlike its snow cone relative, the dessert here is made with finely shaved ice — often flavored — and topped with a variety of homemade syrups, from strawberry to lychee to root beer.

My favorite: the Rainbow, typically a mix of strawberry, vanilla and banana syrups.

In addition to a hefty dousing of syrup, shave ice can come with other add-ons, including sweetened condensed milk, mochi balls, azuki beans and ice cream.

My girlfriend, Leila, gets her strawberry shave ice topped with sweetened condensed milk, a local favorite.

This is something I often crave — maybe it's the year-round sunshine — especially after a long hike or an equally draining day of work.

In fact, I hear the syrup calling me now.

Her 'left testicle' turned out to be cancer

Surfing icon and artist Jeannie Chesser was recently diagnosed with Merkel cell carcinoma, a rare and aggressive form of skin cancer.

It started as an egg-sized lump on her bikini line, a lump she often called her "left testicle."

But it turned out to be a tumor that needed to be removed — and fast. (Read my article in today's The Honolulu Advertiser here.)

It may seem like yet another tragedy in her life. (Her husband was killed in a car accident two years after they were married and her son, big-wave charger Todd Chesser, drowned 10 years ago while surfing off Waimea Bay on Oahu's North Shore.)

But Chesser, now 58 and still ripping on her 5-foot-6 fish every morning at Ala Moana Bowls, is surprisingly upbeat.

Sure, the chemo kicks her ass. Sure, it's harder for her to pull out that oversize stand-up paddleboard. And yeah, she had to give up skateboarding for awhile.

But Chesser, donning a shaved head that she keeps threatening to paint, doesn't plan on giving up anytime soon.

"I just can't worry about it," she told me yesterday at her home near Diamond Head.

Friends are throwing a fundraiser on Sept. 20 at the Hard Rock Café to help with her mounting medical bills.

The upside to chemo?

The guys at the lineup let her catch more waves.

And she finally succumbed to owning a microwave, something that used to freak her out.

"I was afraid of the radiation," she said, laughing. "How ironic."

Lucky you live Hawai'i

It's a phrase often said here — and with good reason.

We're fortunate to live in a place where work and play often blend, where you can surf in the morning before heading to the office, where nature is just 10 minutes away.

Today I surfed in the morning and spent the rest of the afternoon on a 22-foot Boston Whaler watching an outrigger canoe race from Makapu'u to Waikiki.

A crew paddling past Koko Head Crater.

It's not a view of O'ahu's eastern coastline you get to see very often. And despite a bumpy ride and two herniated discs in my lower back, I appreciated the opportunity.

It's not like I could do this in Chicago.

Stop me from working, please!

So I'm on this new kick.

No more working when I shouldn't be working.

No more THINKING about work.

No more TALKING about work.

No more WONDERING IF I SHOULD BE WORKING about work.

This is unchartered waters for me. I'm ALWAYS working. If I'm not writing or blogging, I'm checking my work e-mail or jotting down notes for stories or meeting people who could become potential sources. It's INSANE.

So by a certain kind of intervention — that shall remain vague and ambiguous — I'm heading into a NORMAL work life starting this weekend.

Wish me luck!

Remembering Don Ho

I didn't expect anything less than monumental.

And even though yesterday's memorial service for legendary crooner Don Ho wasn't as massive as anticipated, it was still something spectacular.

A private ceremony attended by Mayor Mufi Hannemann and U.S. Rep. Neil Abercrombie.

An ashes-scattering that involved five DLNR patrol boats, four city rescue watercrafts and dozens of outrigger canoes, catamarans, sailboats and surfers.

A free concert featuring Willie K., Melveen Leed, The Brothers Cazimero and Sam Kapu Jr.

Not everyone gets that kind of send-off!

Mary Vorsino and I were the two reporters on the ground yesterday, calling in the action to Dan Nakaso, who was piecing together the story from the newsroom. It was truly a team effort — with three photographers! — and there's no way anyone could've covered the event solo.

So here are some scenes of yesterday's events:

TV stations set up early at the private service, which was located on the lawn between the Royal Hawaiian Hotel and the Sheraton Waikiki. Every station went live.

The service was for invited guests only. The koa urn on stage held Ho's ashes.

Tourists watched the service from their hotel rooms. We even had a photographer on the eighth floor snapping pics.

Since the service was held in relative public, people flocked to the hotel pool to watch.

I was lucky enough to ride out to the site of the ashes-scattering on a catamaran. This was the view from the boat. There were hundreds of people on the beach watching.

Surfers and paddlers were already out there, waiting.

Boats began congregating at around 5:30 p.m.

Lifeguards estimated there were about 400 people on there, on boats, surfskis, kayaks and surfboards.

The kahu spoke to the crowd from the pilot boat.

The choppy conditions — thanks to the south-east winds — may have detered some people from coming out.

People tossed out flowers and splashed the water in traditional beach-boy style.

It was quite magical to be out there, especially when swells started to roll in. Everyone went wild!

It was quite a send-off!

A boat pulled up behind our catamaran with this sign.

A fire boat shot out water while the KHNL 'copter dropped thousands of flowers.

I think everyone who could make it out last night would agree: it was one of those historic events that we'll remember forever.

Nickname, please

My boyfriend doesn't always answer to Ian.

He's got a couple of nicknames that barely make any sense.

Suub is one. (His last name is Forester, and his paddling friends shortened Subaru to Suub.) And his La'ie friends call him Burg — as in Burger. I think it had something to do with the obscene number of burgers he downed during lunch at school once.

Guys have crazy nicknames.

I surf with a Shoyu (real name Gilbert) and hung out with a Stereo in high school (real name unknown).

I've known guys name Koge, Blacky, Dino, Jimbo, Peabody, Notch, Magic.

Usually these names have great stories behind them. But sometimes they make ZERO sense.

We have an editor at work who's known for making up random nicknames for people in the newsroom. There's Curtisimo, Yazmataz, Lieutenant and Yonan the Barbarian. He calls me Cat Attack.

I'm not sure why we feel compelled to assign nicknames to people whose names we already know. What's the compulsion? Does it make us feel especially connected to that person? Or do we just have some innate need to shorten everything, make life more convenient?

Not sure. But I can tell you this: I'd rather be called Cat Attack than Catherine Elizabeth. Only an angry mother calls me that.

What south swell?

For those of you who — like me — couldn't get to the beach today — and who were so bummed because we were missing the biggest south swell so far this year:

No worries. We didn't miss much.

Here's what it looked like at Queen's this afternoon:

Granted, it was high tide. But still. I expected more than a few two-footers today.

Canoes had waves, but they were nothing to brag about.

Despite the lack of huge waves, Waikiki was still packed this afternoon.

Sadly, one of the better sets that came into Queen's.

Oh, well. But you know what they say: the worst day surfing is still better than the best day at work!

Maybe tomorrow!

Monk seals dies

On Tuesday, a female Hawaiian monk seal died during a capture attempt at Hanauma Bay by researchers. (Read story here.)

It was the only the fourth time in three decades that a monk seal has died during a capture attempt.

Researchers were trying to put a net around the marine animal when it reared back and struck its head on a rock. It died of internal injuries.

The National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration Fisheries held a press conference on Friday with members of the five-person team that tried to capture the monk seal on Tuesday. The mood was obviously somber. One of the researchers had to hold back tears. It was so sad.

The female monk seal was between 2 and 3 years old — not at the usual reproductive age — and weighed between 170 and 200 pounds.

Its death is tragic because Hawaiian monk seals are such a highly endangered species. There are only about 1,200 monk seals worldwide — the lowest ever recorded — with the vast majority living around the Northwestern Hawaiian Islands.

Researchers were trying to capture the seal to place a satellite tracking device — not larger than a cell phone — on its back. The device would allow scientists to monitor its behavior, demography and travels around the Islands. The purpose is to help them understand the factors affecting the seals' survival.

I'd hate to think that, in my lifetime, these animals could become extinct. So even a single death of a healthy female monk seal — as determined by a necropsy done on Tuesday — is just so tragic.

HOW TO HELP

• To report Hawaiian monk seal sightings, call 220-7802 or e-mail pifsc.monksealsighting@noaa.gov.
• To report Hawaiian monk seal strandings, call (888) 256-9840.
• To report marine turtle strandings or sightings, call 983-5730.
• To follow the tracking of six Hawaiian monk seals recently released in the Northwestern Hawaiian Islands, visit www.pifsc.noaa.gov.

How does 'Totack' sound?

That would be our nickname, should John Cusack and I ever hook up, according to a moniker-maker on USAToday.com.

The celebrity name-blending mania started a few years ago when Jennifer Lopez and Ben Affleck began dating. Somehow the moniker "Bennifer" was coined. And even after their split, the name stuck. (It didn't help that Affleck hooked up with — then married — another Jennifer soon after.)

Since then there's been Brangelina (Brad Pitt + Angelina Jolie), TomKat (Tom Cruise + Katie Holmes) and Vinnifer (Vince Vaughn + Jennifer Aniston).

Now, celeb gossip is centered around the latest merge — Gyllenspoon — after rumors of a courtship between Jake Gyllenhaal and Reese Witherspoon surfaced.

So I spent too much time last night playing with the moniker-maker. Here are my favorites:

• Dominic Monaghan + Evangeline Lilly = Domine • Linda Lingle + Mufi Hannemann = Linufi • Sen. Hillary Clinton + Sen. Barack Obama = Clinama • Martha Stewart + Donald Trump = Stewump • Oprah Winfrey + Gayle King = Opyle

I need to find a hobby.