Who is Champuru? 
Aloha, I'm Donna, known everywhere on the Internet as "Champuru." I'm a Christian, blissfully wedded to my perfect match (the yang to my yin) of 15 years and a stay-at-home mom to my miracle baby, born in October 2008. Living life in Hawaii, less than 5 miles from my hometown, seeking balance in her pursuit of family, faith, recreation, and rest. Read more on the About page.
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Dot-Com Days
In the days before dot-net.
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Somehow, it seems that my bottom is less tolerant to sitting for extended periods now.
I decided to spend some time on the computer today, in lieu of lying in bed all day. Hubby needed to catch up on his zzz’s, so I thought I would give him some uninterrupted time of rest. So, I aimlessly surfed the web, watched Al Gore’s “An Inconvenient Truth”, updated my WordPress installations to ver 2.1.3 and subsequently broke one of them. I had updated 3 others previously without a hitch, but I knew I was pressing my luck with this one.
And wouldn’t you know it, when I tried to restore the databases, it errored out. Now, it’s displaying:
WordPress database error: [Unknown column 'user_level' in 'where clause']
SELECT COUNT(*) FROM main_users WHERE user_level > 1
Unless anyone knows what to do to resolve this error, I guess I’ll have to try and figure it out later. Right now, I’m tuckered out — and my butt hurts.
Yesterday, I took my first short walk outdoors since my surgery. It was eye-opening.
Puttering around the house in my PJ’s is one thing, but getting outside and trying to walk in a full stride like a normal person isn’t so easy to do so soon after surgery. Like Lindy promised, I am walking around slowly, gingerly holding my incision site (the nurses called it “splinting”), and taking small half-steps like an 80-year-old obaachan. Understandably, my body feels markedly weaker than pre-surgery, and for some reason, it doesn’t frustrate me.
Being a type A personality, I thought that having to move at the speed of government (oops!) would drive me up the wall. Honestly, it’s nice to slow things down, even at the expense of comfort. Of course, I don’t want to have an operation every time I need some downtime — but, sadly, sometimes it’s the only way to stop the endless rat race that can easily turn into the daily grind. Even vacations are often not very restful. But, when you’re laid up with nothing to do but heal — now that’s relaxation. Relaxing is something that I don’t do enough of and certainly may pay the price for down the road if I’m not careful. Sure, the pain is always a constant reminder of my procedure, my mobility is severely hindered, and I am pretty much sequestered in my house, but I am still taking it all with an equanimity that surprises even me.
To say that I am relishing every moment of my time off would be the understatement of the year.
But, on the flip side, there’s always the pain to contend with. They say “laughter is the best medicine,” but not so in my case. On several occasions this week, Hubby has caused me to laugh myself to tears. Despite my most vigorous efforts to hold back the giggles, I simply couldn’t, then immediately felt the searing pain in my abdomen, followed by tears streaming down my cheeks as I try in vain to stop laughing. Once the laughter subsides, I worry that I’ve ripped open my incision and promptly make Hubby check. So far, so good.
Oh, and coughing is almost as bad. I haven’t experienced the misfortune of a sneeze yet, but I would imagine that would probably be the worst. Gagging on my toothbrush while diligently brushing my tongue was a bad idea, too.
I wonder if readers will grow bored of my endless ramble about my current health status and mundane observations. Right now, I suppose there is little else that concerns me. For now, I am concentrating on restoring not only my body, but also my mind and soul.
Arnold was kind enough to make a special trip to the public library to borrow some books for me to read while I’m recuperating at home for the month. He seems to have his finger on the pulse of my interests, as his selection of books have utterly held me in thrall since I delved into their pages on Monday.
To be honest, reading is a pasttime I thoroughly enjoy, but generally have little time to indulge. Having nothing but time and no place to go certainly creates a rare and precious opportunity for me to lose myself for hours, traveling vicariously to faraway lands and learning more about things that interest me.
I blasted through Snakeskin Shamisen by Naomi Hirahara in little more than a day.
From Publishers Weekly (as published on Amazon.com’s website)
In youth-obsessed Los Angeles, maturity and reticence work in favor of the 70ish gardener Mas Arai, Hirahara’s reluctant hero, as he gets drawn into his highly enjoyable third mystery (after 2005’s Gasa-Gasa Girl). Mas leaves a party held for a friend at a Hawaiian restaurant early, but when the guest of honor turns up dead, Mas has to return to the restaurant to answer questions about anything suspicious he might have observed. A broken shamisen (a stringed instrument similar to a banjo) found at the crime scene, he realizes, indicates that the seeds of the murder were sown in Okinawa during WWII. As a Hiroshima survivor, Mas has his misgivings about examining the past too closely, but his strong sense of right and wrong propels him toward a just resolution. Hirahara’s sharp ear for dialogue and keen sense of place mark this as a superior read, but it’s her intimate view of the Japanese-American community and her wry portrait of the endearing Mas, with his fondness for gambling and Spam, that really make this series stand out. (May)
The familiarity of situations, foods, phrases, and of course, the Okinawan culture appeal to me, making this a fun, quick read. The only thing that peeved me somewhat was how the author chose to phonetically illustrate the Japanese accent of the main character with dialog such as:
“Itsu orai, Tug. I take care. I see youzu later.”
Youzu, Izu, itsu… for some reason makes my hair stand on end.
To her credit, however, the author does a fabulous job weaving some common Japanese words and phrases into the storyline and cleverly explaining their meaning without interrupting the flow of the story to define them. The plot itself is also quite intriguing and also gives readers a glimpse into a bit of Japanese-American history, the ravages of the Battle of Okinawa as well as the bomb in Hiroshima. If you can get past the “youzu, izu, itsu”, then I recommend the book for a nice diversion for a lazy Sunday afternoon.
As stated pointedly on the Friday5.org website, I have no excuse for missing a Friday 5 installation during my 4 weeks of convalescence at home. Not surprisingly, I’m still late, however.
1. What’s something that used to be good but now is lame?
Tapered jeans. Big hair. Spandex pants — on guys.
2. What’s something that used to be lame but now is good?
Bell-bottoms and wide-leg trousers.
3. What’s something you used to feel strongly about, but are now ambivalent about?
As an idealistic teen, I aspired to be a musician — or at least involved in some facet of the music industry. I have since grown up, grown old, and grown jaded. Any semblance of musical inclinations I once possessed have since fallen by the wayside.
4. What’s something you used to feel ambivalent about, but now have strong feelings about?
Being a good wife, daugther, and hopefully someday, mother to my family. I used to be much more career-driven, these days, I’d be much more content as a full-time wife/mom, carting the kiddies off to the school and afterschool activities, spending quality time with the hubs and kiddies at the park, and whipping up fabulous healthy dishes for the family. I’d make an excellent June Cleaver.
5. What’s something you used to dislike but now love?
Japanese and Okinawan culture and cuisine. During my teen years, I did all I could to distance myself from my heritage, convinced myself that Italian food was my favorite and rock’n'roll was king. Since my 20’s, I have been much more in touch with my Okinawan culture and heritage, although have not been as fanatical as I used to be. The passion for my heritage still burns like an ember in my heart, though. Always there.
I don’t know if I’ve been straining myself by getting in and out of the bed on my own or if it’s the lack of painkillers in my bloodstream, but last night, the pain returned in force. Even my innards were sore, where my fallopian tubes used to be.
I relented and downed a 600 mg motrin. It wasn’t long before the pain subsided, a little.
It was enough for me to fall asleep. When I awakened this morning, I was greeted with pain. But, not from the surgery site as you would expect — but my back. I guess lying down for hours upon hours can take its toll on your back, even with a Tempurpedic. I’m trying to avoid taking the motrin as long as possible. We’ll see if I can make it through the day without it.
Perhaps I need to take a stroll around outside for a few minutes. When I was in the hospital, I was taking laps in the hallway. Since I’ve been home, I’ve only been walking from the bedroom to the kitchen, back to the bedroom, to the bathroom, to the den, back to the bedroom, etc. It would be nice to get some fresh air, too.
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