Jumping Flea Master

In Hawaiian, ukulele roughly translates to "jumping flea." It got its name because the instrument is so tiny, the fingertips on your left hand "look like little jumping fleas on a fretboard as you're playing it.
-Jake Shimabukuro


Downbeat…Strum. Strum
Upbeat. Rhythm Strum.
I’ve played enough to produce a rhythm from my Uke, enough to where my students sing a country song about the sheep that goes “Baa baa bamba” but watching Jake Shimabukuro perform last night influenced a different passion for this wooden instrument. He was able to confirm that there is much to discover and develop in something so small. He not only performs for the audience but for himself. His eyes are closed and his body moves as he generates such genuine music. Using his fingers instead of a pick is just as mind blowing. The kids are crazy about him and he shows the same likeness. What’s more, he encourages them to keep playing and stay inspired.

If only he could sing *sigh*

I Need Training Wheels

I am engulfed in fear. When did I stop yearning for thrill? Or was I never a risk taker? Was I always satisfied with what I had or the nature of how I’ve always done things?

I’ve been playing the guitar since high school. I learned how to sing and play at the same time but when I strum B minor, F sharp or the likes of it, I never made an extra effort to make it sound right. I just sang louder on that note or simply tried a new song.

My present goal is to complete a triathlon race. I inserted an Xterra/Tagaman postcard on my windshield as a reminder of what I wanted to achieve. I wrote “I’m doing it! 2009 here we come!” I started to read the Triathlon bible, trained with Coach Mike for the swim, did a couple of runs last week and found some girlfriends who were willing to ride with me. I was ready to fly like a BUMBLEBEE or at least I thought I did.

Today, I was ready to get my new used bike. We went down to Romy’s bike shop and found this beautiful light weight green Gary Fisher. They told me to try it out but when I got on, I knew I wasn’t gonna reach the seat. Apparently the seat had to be high enough to stretch your legs. I got off and tipped the bike while my foot somehow got stuck on the frame. That did it. There was no way I was getting on that bike. Brad gave me words of encouragement and somehow convinced me to try again, plus there was a boy watching from the side. So I did, and I rode it… and the 30 seconds i was moving felt AMAZIZING until I had to stop and tip over (which felt more like falling over) . Now there was definitely no way I was getting on a bike that soon. We asked the owner if we could test the bike for a couple of days but someone else was coming over to check it out. A good sales pitch, but I wasn’t ready to buy something I wasn’t sure of, so I left the shop with feelings of regret and a childish pout. Although, there was still a bit of hope, Leila was selling her mountain bike. There was no air on the tires (easy fix) but she told us to take it and bring it back if it wasn’t what we wanted. Great deal! The minute Brad tested the bike on the rode, I felt like I was ready to try it out, plus the seat was reachable. To my dismay, as soon as I took it to a safe place to ride, the tire went “psssss….” talk about luck.

So now it is with a heavy heart that I assume it will take me a lifetime to find the right bike and another lifetime before I learn how to ride it right. Maybe some training wheels would help?

Fun Fact: Bumblebees are not capable of flight. Fortunately, no one told the bumblebee.The silly insects go right on believing that flight is normal for them despite what the best minds in the scientific world know as fact.

- The Triathlete's Training Bible

BIRDS OF THE SAME FEATHER are bloggers

I started a class blog to motivate my kids to write. So every morning instead of a sweet smile and a warm hug they say "can we blog?".

Xterra: a looong term goal

I was one of the many Saipan Xterra spectators last Saturday. Competitors came in different age and sizes, driven by different reasons. I was enthralled by these triathletes. Their willingness to finish and accomplish this grueling mission was remarkable. I was actually jealous. So I made a decision to complete, not compete, next year’s race. Although this decision may change as quickly as I have made it.
Mountain Biking. I’m positive that this would be my first downfall. Getting on a bike from a slope absolutely freaks me out. The one time Brad took me out on Brenda's MTB he spent an hour, not consecutively, trying to convince me to get back on the bike instead of walking with the bike. Downhill was fantastic! But it didn’t take long for me to realize that I could hit a speed bump, a road kill or maybe even a branch and fly off to never never land.
Another hindrance would be self-motivation. I lack that. Individual sports require self-motivated athletes, telling myself I have to do this for myself doesn’t always work. This is why I love soccer, it’s a team sport. Knowing that I could be a ‘gain’ to others is inspiration enough. While you might have seen me jogging at beach road alone, it has been a weekly ordeal. I draw strength from knowing how much soba I ate.
Lastly, a major deterrent, aside from all this negativity, is running or biking through boonies. As much as I love nature and the relief I gain from being around it. I easily scare. Whether it is a twig snap or a dog bark… I almost always think of the worst.

So what do you think, should I start training for next year?

Congratulations to Brad, Bev, Lewie, Kimi and the other triathletes you are truly an inspiration.

But if I die from training or entering the race, I blame all of you.

A Fairy Tale

This is the fairy tale that should have been read to us when we were little:

Once upon a time in a land far away, a beautiful, independent, self-assured princess happened upon a frog as she sat contemplating ecological issues on the shores of an unpolluted pond in a verdant meadow near her castle. The frog hopped into the princess' lap and said: ' Elegant Lady, I was once a handsome prince, until an evil witch cast a spell upon me. One kiss from you, however, and I will turn back into the dapper, young prince that I am and then, my sweet, we can marry and set up housekeeping in your castle with my mother, where you can prepare my meals, clean my clothes, bear my children, and forever feel grateful and happy doing so. ' That night, as the princess dined sumptuously on lightly sauteed frog legs seasoned in a white wine and onion cream sauce, she chuckled and thought to herself: I don't think so.

"Would've saved us a lot of heartaches" - Forgetten

Wolf's Honor!

In the land of make believe anything can happen! My kids (for non teachers, my students) love magical-mystical happenings with uncanny characters and cruel villains. Growing up, I remember the mean step-mother in Cinderella, the three bears who scared Goldilocks away and the Big Bad Wolf who huffed and puffed and blew the piggy’s house down. But lately, authors have started a series of ‘the other side of the fairy tale’. One class favorite is the The real story of The Three Little Pigs.

According to the wolf he doesn’t know how this whole Big Bad Wolf thing got started and explains “maybe it's because of our diet. Hey it’s not my fault wolves eat cute little animals like bunnies and sheep and pigs. That's just the way we are. If cheeseburgers were cute, folks would probably think you were big and bad, too.”

We also remember that he huffed and puffed to blow the pigs' houses down, it turns out that he simply had a bad cold and had a powerful sneeze. Who could blame him for eating the pigs that died when their houses fell as a result of his sneezing? “It seemed like a shame to leave a perfectly good ham dinner lying there in the straw. So I ate it up. Think of it as a big cheeseburger just lying there.”

He continues to explain that he was only visiting the pigs to borrow a cup of sugar to make a cake for his deal old granny's birthday. The pigs wouldn't even give him any sugar! When the third pig insulted his grandmother, he got a little crazy. The police found him trying to break down the pig's door, “The rest, as they say, is history. The news reporters found out about the two pigs I had for dinner. They figured a sick guy going to borrow a cup of sugar didn't sound very exciting. So they jazzed up the story with all that "huff and puff" and "blow your house down" stuff.”

After we read the story, I asked my kids whether or not they were convinced by the wolf's version of the story. One of my boys answered “Yes, because I like to eat pigs and cheeseburgers too.”

random thoughts

I am wasting energy worrying over things I cannot control.
Is this a pathway to insanity?