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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Sad news about Aloha Airlines shutting down passenger operations after 61 years of business in Hawaii.
It makes me wonder what kind of impact that will have on the state’s economy with an influx of 1,900 people to join the unemployment line. It saddens me to see iconic local businesses like Aloha Airlines going belly up and it makes me want to boycott Go! Airlines. I suppose it’s akin to a Wal-mart coming in and running the local mom & pop stores out of business. But, what’s a consumer to do in these tight economic times? The smart thing would be to patronize the business who can give you the most bang for your buck, but more often than not, that’s not going to be a small or locally-owned business. It’s like the “made in China” dilemma, but there’s enough to be said about that for another entry entirely, so let’s not even go there.
On a more selfish note, the closure of Aloha Airlines affects me because I managed to accumulate 70,000+ miles with Aloha Airlines mostly through the usage of my First Hawaiian Bank Aloha AirAwards credit card. A lot of those miles were obtained from charging the more than $5,500 in expenses associated with my recent in vitro procedures. I did this consciously with the expressed intent of earning miles for air travel sometime in the near future. Now, I suppose I can kiss those free trips goodbye. Aloha oe.
Shari and me
Do I look like I could be Shari’s mom???
I can’t believe someone else thought I was Shari’s mom.
What the heck!? Come on, people, I am only six months older than her. Don’t tell me I look like I’m in my 60’s. If so, just shoot me now.
This is the third time I have received that comment and it’s becoming a disturbing trend. This time it wasn’t in person, but someone who was viewing our pictures and he asked Shari, “is that your mom?” What the…
I won’t let it crush my self-esteem, but I have to admit that I’m pretty annoyed about it. The next person who calls me Shari’s mom is going to get an earful and possibly a violent reaction, that’s for sure.
Can someone nominate me for 10 Years Younger?
Tanuki Family at Shirokiya
Looks like Hubby, me and the Snowflake!
I spent the day at Ala Moana Shopping Center with Shari today, on a mission to find a dress for a wedding she is attending tomorrow. We ended up at Nordstrom, but had difficulty finding something suitable. So, we asked the experts and, within minutes, Shari was in a fitting room trying on a bunch of dresses that, left to my own devices, wouldn’t have touched with a 10-foot pole. It’s mind-boggling how a dress that looks borderline hideous on a hanger can actually look amazing when put on a human body. Shari ended up choosing a dress that I had given a negative vote to only minutes earlier, mostly because of the plunging v-neck that would seemingly expose way too much cleavage. However, the smart sales staff was quick to point out that the dress could easily be altered by taking up the straps and even stitching the v-neck up a bit to accommodate her cleavage-revealing comfort level. An alteration lady appeared in the dressing room in a jiffy and with a few strategically-placed pins on the straps, Shari fell in love with the dress and vowed that she would not leave without it. Normally, alterations take a week, but since Shari needed the dress for tomorrow they put a rush job on the alteration for a charge of $23 and it was ready in an hour. With strappy sling-back shoes to match, Shari was ready for the event.
While she dropped some serious coin for the outfit, I managed to leave the mall relatively unscathed, limiting my purchases to an $8 travel hairbrush from Sephora and the obligatory goodies from Shirokiya for Hubby.
Best of all was the time spent together, shooting the breeze, catching up, and simply enjoying each other’s company.
I felt good. After all, it was Friday night and the entire weekend lay ahead of me. Hubby was home and I was feeling well enough to venture out of the house and attempt to have dinner at a restaurant in the neighborhood. I still didn’t want to go too far from home, just in case.
So, we headed to Zippy’s. Did I want to play it safe and have the saimin? Or be brave and have a bowl of vegetarian chili? I figured that the chili had more substance to it and perhaps more nutrients than a bowl of saimin (starch, sodium, and liquid), so I took the plunge and ordered the chili.
When it came, the aroma did not offend and I managed to eat nearly all of it — scooting the kidney beans to one side of my bowl which ended up being quite a sizable pile by the time I was done. So daring was I, that I even ordered a bowl of chocolate ice cream for dessert. Unfortunately, I was only able to eat half of the ice cream before the full feeling in my stomach reminded me that moderation is key, especially when my digestive system is in such a fragile state. I left feeling quite proud of myself, that I was finally able to sit down in a restaurant for a meal (like a normal person!) and I didn’t even have to run out of the room in a gagging fit. And, even more remarkably, I was able to eat dinner for the first time in MONTHS. Was this the turning point that I was hoping for?
Hubby and I visited the Borders Express where he picked up a martial arts magazine and we perused a baby names book. We had already picked out names, mostly for the way it rolls off the tongue with our last name. We knew our choice for a girl’s name would not be in the book, so we looked up the boy’s name, Brandon, and discovered that it means sword. Sword? A little disturbing for a peace-loving gal like me. So, we thumbed through the book and pondered other possible names. None really caught our eye and by the time we were on the “V” section, I was starting to get that telltale lump in my throat which basically meant that it was time to call it a night.
As soon as I got home, I headed straight for the toilet and lost my entire Zippy’s dinner. Unfortunately, it never tastes good the second time around. This was perhaps the worst barf session of my pregnancy thus far and one that does not bear repeating.
Lesson learned: Don’t push it.
From now on, until my 24/7 sickness takes permanent leave, I will eat cautiously and continue to forgo normal-sized dinners. For now, I’ll settle for a small bowl of cereal or a piece of fruit after 6 pm. Nothing heavier than that or risk more episodes like tonight’s. And, God knows, we don’t need any more of those.
Yesterday a co-worker approached me and was staring at my midsection.
“Finally! You’re starting to show!” she exclaimed. It looked like she was about to reach out and touch my tummy, but refrained and simply gestured instead. I have a feeling that the upcoming months will bring many more attempts to rub my preggie belly once it really starts to protrude. For now, it just looks like I had a few too many Krispy Kremes and it would almost seem obscene for acquaintances to be touching me right now.
It reminds me that I need to start a pictorial documentation of my belly’s progress soon — like two weeks ago. I’ve already missed the opportunity to establish a baseline, but I guess it’s not too late to start.
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