Just a quickie because I have exactly 10 minutes to post this before I turn into a pumpkin.

Diamond Head Lighthouse

Today was an extremely hectic and exhausting day, yet gratifyingly different than the daily grind. The job took me on location at the Diamond Head Lighthouse to film a segment for our monthly show. The weather was absolutely perfect; gorgeous, sunny skies and a frisky breeze to keep us from burning to a crisp. We couldn’t have asked for a better day for the event.

Although I thought I spent most of the time in the shade, I still managed to score a pretty decent sunburn.

At the conclusion of the event, we climbed to the top of the Diamond Head Lighthouse, flying in the face of my fear of heights. Here’s proof:

Standing on the balcony of the Diamond Head Lighthouse
I had to crop my co-worker out of the photo, since I don’t think
she would appreciate having her picture on the web.

The view was simply breathtaking and certainly worth overcoming my phobia of heights to enjoy it. Perhaps there will be more later — and maybe even a vlog entry.

For now, it’s time for me to hit the sack and recover from all that excitement — and the sun!

I received a postcard in the mail from Okinawa, Japan today. (Thank you, bruddah Keith!)

My Okinawan dance troupe is there for a tour and performance. Had I not been on this extended hiatus, I would most likely have been there with them. It has been 8 years since my last trip to the “homeland” and I long to return for another visit.

People have asked me on occasion why I, as a Christian, am such a zealot about bon dances. Understandly, it seems a bit contradictory since the obon is rooted in Buddhism. To me, my participation in bon dances is solely for the cultural experience, not as a religious observance. (As Joni so aptly explained, it’s akin to a Buddhist participating in Easter or Christmas festivities.) I grew up listening to the lively plunking of the Okinawan sanshin on Mom’s old phonograph and my heart beats steadily to the rhythm of the taiko. Bon dances allow me to draw close to my culture, to exercise my rusty odori muscles, and enjoy the company of friends in a festive and fun atmosphere.

As a result of the encouragement of my mother, I have been dancing since I was a toddler, running onstage at the Sonjinkai Shinnen Enkai (new year’s party) and stealing the kachashi limelight from the ojiichans and obaachans. At age 5, I started Okinawan dance lessons and continued off-and-on throughout my life. Having been in an “off” period for a few years now, bon dances are my only connection to a love for the music and dances of my culture. Donning a hapi coat and dancing to the lilting notes of the sanshin thrills my heart and makes me proud of my rich heritage.

As the pieces of my life start to fall in place, I know that I will return to my odori training. Until then, you’ll see me dancing my little heart out around the yagura in the bon dance circle.

Shari

Thanks, Pehea `Oe?, for the great t-shirt!

No photos of Kamu eating or pointing tonight — but Kamu spent
most of the evening shooting everybody with his big gun.

Kamu’s professional-grade camera gave my Canon PowerShot SD550 an inferiority complex, so I don’t have many photos from this bon dance. However, Kamu promises to provide me with the shots he took to fill the gaps.

Miss me? Wondering where I’ve been this week? My flaky Internet connection has kept me from doing important things like checking my e-mail and blogging. *gasp*

Bright and early this morning, I drove to Oceanic to swap out my ailing cable modem with a new one: the third Webstar in two years. The last one lasted one day short of a month. Not a very good track record, if you ask me. I don’t know why businesses purchase crappy equipment, causing frustration to customers and likely more cost to the company in the long run. I was an early adopter of broadband and remember the honkin’ huge cable modem they gave me back then. It was built like a tank and ran for years and years before it finally retired itself. Now, they have these small, cheap plasticky modems that seem to roll over and die if you just look at them funny. Frustrating!

Let’s see how long this one lasts before it craps out. Will this drive me into the arms of another ISP? After more than 10 years of being a loyal customer and enthusiastic supporter of RoadRunner, my dissatisfaction with the frequent downtime due to crappy equipment just may push me to look into other alternatives. RR, you better hope this modem lasts more than a month.

Rod posted some interesting tidbits on DaScoops.com, including a link to the Honolulu Advertiser article on the ubiquitous Ryan Ozawa’s newest pursuit: lifecasting. Check it out!

Stress, frustration, annoyance, whatever you want to call it: it makes me do bad things.

Today, in particular, I broke my streak of good behavior and gorged myself on two pieces of cake (on two separate sittings, mind you, 4 hours apart). And, yes, I ate the frosting. Every last bit of it. If I wasn’t so concerned about appearing uncouth, I would have licked the plate. I guess I should also admit that I ate a Big Island Candies chocolate-dipped shortbread cookie, too. (To my credit, again, not in the same sitting.)

Undoubtedly, this kind of compulsive eating will blow any well-intentioned diet out of the water in one fell swoop. There’s something about sweets that has a soothing effect of me, especially when I’m having a particularly bad day. When things go awry, I feel justified, as if I deserve it. But when my senses return, after the momentary pleasure on my palate, I realize that comfort eating really doesn’t do me any favors. It’s not healthy to be able to measure your stress level by your growing waistline.

Since my surgery, I have been taking baby steps toward changing my lifestyle. I have been eating salads for lunch consistently and taking a brisk walk at least 5 out of 7 days of the week. I am planning my return to karate within the next week or two and I’ll be signing up for tennis lessons with Joyce in July. I hope that all of these things will help keep me on track with my health — and also help me manage my stress levels. Perhaps the latter will be more of a challenge than the former.

Some days it just comes down to this: I had my cake and I ate it two.

Although I am an aspiring mother, I am not very good with children. In fact, if you took a poll of all the children who have had the displeasure of meeting me, I’d be voted “least favorite auntie of the century.” Perhaps it is because they can sense my unease with them. Having been raised a “lonely only” and fifteen years younger than my next youngest cousin, my exposure to babies and children was next to nil. When I married Hubby, I gained nieces and nephews, but that still didn’t awaken the maternal instincts. Although I have improved somewhat in the past 15 years since Hubby and I have met, I still feel awkward when trying to talk to children under 10. If you want to see a train wreck in progress, just leave me with a toddler and ask me to play with him.

There are some kids, however, who can put me at ease. Ryan’s 9-year-old daugther Katie is one such child. She is so open, outgoing, and friendly. We chatted for a bit when I shared half a container of homemade pickled vegetables with the Ozawas. She talked about how she didn’t like pickled daikon (takuan), but she loved spinach, much to the chagrin of her schoolmates. She identified the vegetables inside the clear container. We had a discussion about whether the green thing was a bell pepper or if it was a cucumber. She asked me to introduce her to my friends, so I did. She impressed everyone with her charm and intelligence. After a short time, she caught sight of her father walking back to his seat with an armful of food from the concession stand and she joined her family for a pre-bon dance dinner. Not long after, she skipped back to us and held out a small brown paper bag to me. I opened it and saw a pair of miniature handmade straw slippers. Pulling it out, I admired it and noticed that it was actually a refrigerator magnet.

“This is neat!” I said, “Is this for your refrigerator?”

She nodded. I put it delicately back into the sack and held it out to her.

“It’s for you!”

Genuinely surprised, I asked, “For me?”

“Yes!” she beamed. I gave her a big hug and thanked her for her thoughtfulness. She smiled, “it’s for the vegetables.”

I walked her back to her parents and thanked them for the magnet. Jen told me that Katie wanted to get me something because she really enjoyed the pickled vegetables. I thought that was the cutest thing and it touched my heart.

Maybe I’m not such a bad auntie after all?