Author Archives: Vicky

Like a Delicate Flower

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So we got back from Pasadena on Monday, and then I got John’s cold. Yesterday, I was feeling way better, so I attended the broker meeting and house tours (check out this gorgeous Eichler in Sunnyvale!) followed by a meeting with a title agent and then the Ditch the Bitch Stigma meetup group. Today, I am sick again with a stuffy nose and head congestion. Fucking A. As tough as I always like to think myself to be, I am annoyingly delicate. Fucking bullshit.

The meetup group last night was really excellent. The organizer is a coach and speaker, so we had a really intelligent conversation among eight women about feminism, communication styles, and the whole bitch stigma. Basically, anytime a woman voices her opinion and sets boundaries on anything– be it at work or through personal interactions/relationships– she gets called a bitch. I was really pleasantly surprised by the conversation. Bc the facilitator is super well-read on feminism and on privilege, I felt like I was back in my women’s studies class at Duke. That class was one of the most eye-opening experiences of my life, bc it showed me how conservative and self-righteous and closed-minded and sheltered I really was. Yesterday, we talked about power dynamics, societal and cultural expectations, privilege, stereotypes, and “punching up” vs. “punching down”… it was some meaty shit. All and all, I was super pleased until the very end, where I was standing up, packed up, and ready to leave… somehow the conversation turned to the facilitator’s background and specialty: she is a former stripper and dominatrix and as a coach/speaker now, she specializes in sexuality and power and kink. Yup, leave it to me to find the one meetup group where prudish old Vix has to hear about a former dom’s past clients with fetishes in bondage and humiliation… OMFG.

That’s the tricky thing about feminism, right? There are the multiple waves and the newest wave embraces sexuality, sex work, and I mean all that shit STILL makes me uncomfortable bc I am a prude. I always think back to when I used to work for the feminist organization. The older staff were you know, marching about abortion rights and equal pay and such, but the younger feminists did that PLUS they really embraced sexuality and a woman’s choice to engage in sex work. They would run fundraisers on their college campuses selling Pussy Pops (lollipops shaped like vaginas!). Yup. Too much freedom of expression for me!!!

Then last night, one attendee– on hearing about the facilitator’s past work– really got into the conversation and shared that she had attended a sex workshop in SF where she and her spouse were connected to each other by two straps of webbing, with hooks on each end–  one set of hooks pierced into her upper chest and one set into her spouse’s upper chest. Then, both people faced each other and leaned back, held up by the tension of the webbing!?!?!? They say it was some kind of trust exercise. Uh, what??? Yup, I endured that conversation while making cringe faces and then I darted out of there. I mean, had I been a version of my younger naive self, I would have internally and externally flipped the fuck out. But now that I’m a seasoned, more exposed (and composed) adult, the freak out was limited to internal only. I don’t think I’ll ever get to that level of comfort and exploration re: sex, but I am able to stand there and listen… Yup. Holy fuck. I tell ya. I get a LOT of stories from my Meetup adventures!

Old Favs

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This week we received Martin’s ashes back. Even though I am crying less frequently now several weeks after his passing, I still have those random moments when the tears flood my face at the drop of a hat. Sigh. Grieving sucks. I’m still not sleeping well. Oftentimes, when I wake in the middle of the night, I swear I hear moving about the house. Mind you, his doggie bed was long moved out into the garage for storage, and the doggie door is all boarded up but I suppose those old habits really are hard to erase.

I received many sweet and thoughtful notes from friends and acquaintances who learned about his passing. One friend is gifting us a commissioned painting of Martin (with Remy if we want). I looked at the artist’s work. Her paintings are lovely. A few times, we’ve sat down to scroll through pictures to give to the artist, but the process of selecting is full of mixed emotions. I know that we gave them good lives, full of adventure and love, but reflecting on so many of our life’s journeys that we shared with them makes me miss that life even more. Sometimes I think about couples who lose a child– so many times, you hear that the marriages don’t survive the loss. It’s weird to think that J and I have never truly lived alone– with just us. From the time that we officially started cohabitation, Remy was already there warming our shared home.

I suppose, if there’s any good news in my pain, my donation drive is going well. About fifteen people have gifted items in Martin’s memory, with more to come. I was really happy too to hear this week from two of my favorite Rover clients. In the next several weeks, I will reunite with both Cody (the corgi) and Ramona (Kidney Bean). In fact, Ramona will stay with us for 18 days in February… a super long stint (and at holiday rates!!). She’s a stinky pup, but I love her nonetheless. I’m thrilled that I will see them both again soon.

In other dog-related news: my Rover biz is heating up in the new year! I met a very nice couple from the UK (London) who have a very young but well-behaved shiba-corgi mix. I actually think he’s more of a chihuahua mix. They have him with me in daycare. It’s funny, bc he really doesn’t need to be in daycare, but they have no qualms having him with us so he gets midday breaks and isn’t holed up in the apartment. I’m happy to oblige. Later this month, the German lady K with the long-haired whippet is also wanting to resume daycare with us. Interestingly, our friend A (who invited us to Pasadena for the Rose Bowl) just started a new job and K is her boss! Small world, right?

So I’ll have a new Rover client for MLK holiday, Cody for a night, and then Ramona next month! Yay for puppies!

Lord of the Fleas

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I’m feeling better today from that damn cold. All of yesterday, I did an aggressive combo therapy, alternating between Chinese throat syrup and hot water + honey + lemon. Today is a new (not really) issue: fleas.

You see, I got eaten alive around the time that Marty passed away. That was before Christmas. Then, we figured that being away for Christmas and for New Year, with the temps dropping and the bugs having no warm bodies on which to feed, the fleas would just die off. We got back from MD and Pasadena and my legs are still itching like hell. Maybe I was still suffering from the remnant bites, bc I’d read that sometimes the bites take 2-3 weeks to heal…

Well then yesterday, I saw some live fleas on the new Rover client, a cutie shiba-corgi mix. I checked with the owner, and she said the dog’s been on prescription flea meds (which usually works amazing) since they got him. So is it our house then? I don’t know!

Before, our vet said the flea situation was bad the last few years bc of the drought. Well, our area is almost OUT of the drought now with all the rain we’ve been getting so I don’t know what the deal is now. John was giving me crap about having these dogs in the house, but what do you want me to do? I miss Marty terribly and while these doggies aren’t an adequate substitute, they do offer me some small ounce of joy.

Fortunately, the infestation isn’t major. I mean, J has yet to be bitten. It’s just that me with my sensitive skin… I’m resuming vacuuming daily as well as the additional spraying of lemongrass essential oils. John went to OSH to buy Borax, but the clerk said that shit has been flying off the shelves. All out.

I feel so behind with work and learning… Last Thursday before we headed off for Pasadena, I went to a local credit union to do my realtor intro to a loan officer. Got all dressed up and took my cone of popcorn… the guy was out and is by appointment only. Ugh. Then I tried to schedule something with a different bank, but yesterday I was sick and now she’s out until Friday. I feel like I need to just get it going so I can demonstrate to myself that it’s not that hard. Haha. Mind games to trudge forward.

Pasadena

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J and I flew into Burbank last Thursday to meet up with his former coworker and friend A. She is originally from Burbank, and she invited us to join her for the Rose Parade, an item on her bucket list. Unfortunately, she’d fallen ill a few days before and then J woke up with a sore throat the day we were to fly down… None of this foiled our plans, but it just made the experience a little less enjoyable.

A is an executive assistant/chief of staff for a tech company, so she’s a planner. And oh boy was it nice to have everything all booked and researched before we got there! I just had to get our air ticket (Companion Pass FTW) and rental car, and then as soon as we touched down, A had already researched places for lunch. What a nice change of pace!

The AirBnb she booked was super adorbs… it was a renovated garage in a very cute part of town in Pasadena. The only thing was, it was a studio (murphy bed + pullout couch) which A didn’t realize and it was very cold inside. There was a hot tub and pool but the hot tub was drained and the pool was unheated. Otherwise, it was a great place… just with the unseasonably cold weather and rain, I was basically chilled to the bone for three days.

Still, we saw all kinds of things: drove through old town Pasadena, did a drive-by to CalTech, checked out Christmas Tree Lane in a wealthy part of town (classy, not obnoxious lights), hit up Huntington Gardens and Griffith Observatory. We saw a lot in just a few short days. And I really like southern California: it’s much more artsy/creative and socio-economically diverse… meaning there are so many more venues for art (I mean, I guess Hollywood is not far) and not EVERYONE is in software/tech like people disproportionately are in Silicon Valley. Housing is still pricey but less so (I had my realtor apps open the whole time), and food is like consistently good and cheaper! That’s right: I’m planting the seed now. LA is a possibility for future places to live!

Btw, A turned us on to an incredibly delicious drink: we hit up the BevMo and made this every. single. day. The Archer’s Peppermint Patty is no fucking joke. You gotta make it!

We attended the Rose Parade our final day in LA. Pretty cool experience, and I’m glad it was on A’s bucket list, bc it’s not something we would have otherwise done. Ever. Funny though: A is so much more gregarious and vocal than J and I are. For example, with every float, she was so excited and full of compliments and positivity. J and I were just quiet– like the shit was cool for sure, but there are similarities from float to float and more top of mind for me than anything, was that I was FREEZING my ass off.

Traveling with other people, you also realize just how different we all are. Like at the airport, one agent was handling inquiries from passengers at two different gates… she was really good about managing the queue and providing customer service: She would manage expectations by saying hold on: lemme get these passengers onto their flight departing now, and then I’ll help this couple, then this group, then you. Thank you for your patience.

She was super pleasant and nice the whole time. After she helped us, J and I said thanks and walked away. But A like REALLY thanked the agent: Thanks for processing all of us and you were so pleasant managing all those simultaneous requests… you are great at what you do!

And while me relaying what A said might sound too much or insincere, it was totally natural and genuine. I really took that as a reminder that you can never really acknowledge people enough. Gratitude is a beautiful thing and I hope that I can learn to express it more often.

Recent Reads

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The other day, I was sitting around feeling sorry for myself bc well, Martin. Then, I came across this article, and it reminded me of something my father has drilled into my brain from a very young age: life is unfair. I have grasped that concept very well, particularly from the perspective of being someone so privileged and realizing that my life really is a cakewalk compared to what else is happening in the world. That’s not to dismiss my emotions and my pain, but… shit, this is some goddamn perspective: Do you care more about a dog than a refugee?

On the lighter side of things, this fascinates me bc it feels like something I would do. I mean, not the bar/hookup part, but the blast from the past kinda thing… A Valentine’s Hey.

Anger and Contempt

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After returning from the excessive family time over Christmas, I found myself feeling supremely irritable and cranky. John had thanked me for the dumpster day, but I was so frustrated by the mental strain of going through the motions with both families during the holidays. And considering the number of times I’ve gone to Taiwan solo, I didn’t feel acknowledged enough. I mean, every time I go back for the holidays, I come back and get sick. What does that say about the level of stress? Sure, there are things you have to endure. Life isn’t about having things your way all the time. I get that. I suppose, yet again, this will be a scenario where I’m supposed to adjust how I interact and react with the families. That’s the only thing I can control. Annoying, in and of itself.

Second, I’m feeling a little wedged about conflicting demands. While J’s off of work, we want to travel (and of course max out my Companion Pass), but if I really want to get a good start on my real estate job, I need to put in the saddle time. J just signed up for a leather working class that’s all day Tuesdays in SF. It’s an intensive class and I’m thrilled he’s doing it, bc he so rarely pursues his interests in a formal setting involving strangers. But that means we have Wednesday to Mondays for travels. I just found out that I have intensive real estate training starting up in January that’s Wednesday through Fridays. That leaves weekends, which in most industries would be fine, except that weekends are big days for real estate… so I dunno. I’m sure like in any relationship, these are scheduling kinks that you just have to work out… my situation isn’t unique and certainly, we don’t have kids’ schedules to throw into the mix. Still, when I think forward about the growing familial demands as both sides age and become more dependent on us, I really worry about fitting it all in.

And then I feel angry about my brother and how useless he is. I know my parents try not to ask too much of me, but between the dual country living, multiple properties, my mom being so dependent, and my parents being miserable, not physically robust people living far away from me, attending to their needs is kind of intense. If I think on it for too long, I fall into that horrible blaming mode. Like why do they continue to parent like tards and bc of that, Johnny is a mess. And bc of this and that, things are so much more complicated than they need to be. It gets me so pissed!

I mean, for people who are traditional planners, there’s just a little too much procrastination and inaction due to over-optimization. For example, this last trip with my parents… dad is wondering again about where he and mom are going to live after selling the family home. The original plan was Taiwan full time, but the recent political instability is possibly changing that. J and I have mentioned to them a few times that California makes a lot of sense: it’s closer to us, the weather is more moderate, there’s a vibrant Chinese community, and Taiwan is a direct flight. But my dad, always trying to over optimize his finances, doesn’t like:

  • the high costs of living (including real estate),
  • the liberal politics = inefficient/wasteful social programs that result in high taxes, and
  • the earthquake risk paired with expensive housing that’s really old construction.

At the end of the day, these are not factors he cannot afford to address, you know? Like he could live in new earthquake-friendly construction. He can afford the high taxes and cost of living, so ultimately, what he’s chosen is a path to optimize his finances to the detriment of his own preferences and enjoyment. In other words, of course in many cases you need to live within your means and be smart with your money, bc who knows what lies ahead. However, in his case, the choices don’t have to be so dire and irreversible. He has options: maybe not every single piece of property he owns has to be an investment-savvy decision. Sometimes, you pay a premium, bc that’s what it costs to live in a place with good weather, diversity, and big city access. Anyway, it’s a frustrating thing trying to reason with someone so OCD about his way of doing things. Several times on this trip, I commented to him that I don’t understand why he insists on being so rigid and inflexible. He just has to have things his way.

Family Matters

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Whenever we’re in Maryland, our families insist that time passes very quickly. Not for me: every trip home seems to drag on forever. This past week has felt like an eternity. I’m glad to be going home tomorrow.

Overall, our annual holiday visit went ok. For me, the most important point was zero heated arguments or outbursts between me and my parents. On the advice of several friends, I decided to just take a break from Operation Downsize. For the last few months, I’d already been feeling like my parents were losing steam about the Taiwan Relocation anyway (plus Trump’s recent call to Taiwan pushed Taiwan/China tensions to the forefront), so why bother putting in effort when they’re just not ready.

The day after our outing to Great Falls and the National Harbor, we stayed in. I guess everyone, including myself, was drained from all the energy and effort it took to brave the cold and to battle the traffic. On Christmas Day, I drove my family to John’s eldest sister’s house. E is always so gracious, volunteering to cook and host like 25 people at her home. And she is the best cook I know– even fancier than my Bubbey. She is super serious about ingredients and recipes and such. To be honest, I think she should be a professional chef. Either way, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to cook for her and her family…

My parents were pretty good sports about showing up for E’s Christmas dinner this year. They’d turned E down the last few years, and finally, her persistence and their propensity for politeness won over. I appreciate that they made the effort: since they retired many years ago, they’ve become increasingly anti-social, so it takes a lot of effort, esp for them to socialize with non-Chinese people. But I dunno, their attendance always stresses me out a bit. I mean, the big family gatherings have always been very awkward and foreign for me (esp the gift giving part and just having SO many people hanging out for SO many hours), so to have my quiet, mild-mannered parents just compounds the awkwardness. I never have to baby them and I just let them fend for themselves, but I do have some anxiety about my mother and her conversational abilities, particularly with her suspected ADHD/dementia issues. The whole thing is just weird. Having my parents at a big holiday gathering is like having monks or Jehovah Witnesses at your celebration, you know? Like my parents just are not CHILL people: they are very strict with their diet and drinking and dessert and whatever… They’ll partake in it all, bc they don’t want to be rude, but their participation is still clearly awkward. Who knows. I’m probably just OCD hypersensitive about it. Maybe no one else noticed… Needless to say, by the time we headed home, my parents were super tired and totally conked out in the car.

This morning, I made plans to meet over breakfast with my BFF’s mom, who decided to drive up last minute to visit her friends in Frederick. Mrs. R and I go way back… her daughter N and I became friends in the 7th grade, so they’re practically the only people in the world who really know my entire history of family dysfunction. Yup, that family drama bullshit runs way back and way deep. SMH.

It was really good to see Mrs. R: I often see a lot of parallels with her style/role with her husband (now deceased) and N and my role with Bubbey and my parents and N. In so many ways, I feel like Mrs. R and I are worriers who sometimes feel overwhelmed being caretakers for people who are continually struggling with depression and health issues. I can see the frustration and exasperation on her face. We feel and think very similarly, and we are always trying to research ways to “fix things” for people we love. In the end though, more than anything, we seem to become helpless partners walking a fine line of trying to be patient and supportive even as the weight of waiting for change/action slowly crushes us.

But her strength always amazes me. At 72, she has suffered so many trials and yet, she continues to find joy through her friendships and through new travels and adventures. She was telling me how she spends a lot of time thinking about how to repair her relationship with her daughter. In the process, she had a recent epiphany where she sees so many mistakes she made as a mother. And she’s owning up to them now– quite a dramatic feat for someone who used to be so full of confidence and conviction with her words and actions (sound familiar?). I saw a noticeable difference in her today: she displayed newfound self-awareness and renewed determination to continue working on her relationships, no matter how dysfunctional or broken.

Anyway, seeing Mrs. R today just made me realize that maybe I should go back to therapy about my family. I feel like I spend so much time trying to “fix” that relationship; In the end, I never feel satisfied with our visits. I keep tweaking things here and there, but maybe I just need to stop overthinking, step back, and get the advice of an expert. Honestly, I feel like I have spent an entire lifetime trying to get this shit right.

And this trip, even though we avoided confrontations, I was def ready to throw in the towel two or three times in the last week. For example, after the casino day trip, I called J and said this is the last year I’m coming home for Christmas. J and I always end up splitting up, each staying with our respective families, so then I’m holed up with my parents most of the trip, and I mean, they aren’t celebratory! There’s really no reason for me to come home during the holidays. I can just see his family other times during the year when traffic/travel/holiday stress don’t culminate into this Perfect Storm. Like I used to explain to my hardcore hiking/backpacking friends, the holidays are just “not how my family recreates.”

It’s a hard scenario to describe, but in the end, I feel like the holidays worsen my parents’ usual funk. Like all the pressures of having to fake joy and festive moods… it’s too much. Already, my parents are kind of boring and wallowing in their misery. I think either having them come out to CA or me visiting when the temps are warmer will just work out better for everyone.

I know, I’m sure some of you are thinking I’m guilty of the same exact things that I accuse my parents of. You’re not wrong. J says that every time we visit with my parents, he really sees how I’m a milder version of all their extremes (No, I don’t take that as a compliment). What exactly is their crime? They can’t seem to relax and have fun. They can’t find joy in anything. And they always obsess over what’s wrong rather than what’s right in their lives. Add to that, the perpetual over-optimization of finances and the paralysis and hermetic lifestyle to avoid dangers of the world, and it’s just really difficult finding areas where we can connect! Seriously, why can’t they just be normal???

Maybe my commentary only highlights my own issues of self-acceptance. After all, I often ask myself, why can’t I just be normal? I dunno. The struggle is real. Thankfully though, my family is my biggest gripe. Otherwise, the other spheres of my life are consistently more good than bad. 🙂

What else. This afternoon, about seven of us went over to my in-laws’ house for another dumpster purge. It was pretty intense: about 5-6 hours wading through a house packed with 50 years of accumulated shit. As I filled bag after bag with dirty, dusty, dingy clothes/artificial flowers/bedding/blankets, I started feeling super stressed by the sheer volume of the job. Meanwhile, the whole time, J and his three other siblings continued to display patience and compassion as their mother insisted on giving her stamp of approval for each clothing item or pair of shoes…

For sure, I would NOT have asked my mother: instead, I would have trashed everything like a goddamn dictator. And if my mother were to get upset, I would only respond with anger and contempt. See? I’m a horrible daughter. It’s shameful that unlike every other person today, I am unable to treat my parents with more respect and kindness. Sigh. I really don’t know what I’m going to do when the rubber hits the road and my parents truly have to clear out their massive house.

Meanwhile, the job at my in-laws’ house is not even near done. We filled a second monster dumpster (the first one was last Christmas), and we made significant progress. But there is still A LOT of stuff left. We are all resting up before considering the next steps.

I’m just glad to be going home tomorrow. So pooped.

Traffic and Travels

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In terms of getting along with my family, things are going ok so far. But the trip is still early. No explosions as of yet. Yesterday, I took my parents out of the house: we hit up Great Falls, MD (a national park where dad was pleased to get in free with his senior parks pass that we got years ago) then I drove through DC into Alexandria then to the National Harbor, some new area by the water where there’s a huge Gaylord Resort and brand-spanking new MGM Casino. My parents tried to be good sports about the park visit, but it was in the 50s and windy that day. Btw, my father totally babies my mom. She underdressed and then he gave her his vest and his gloves and he was freezing. Dunno why they don’t just keep a shit ton of freebie fleece blankets in the trunk. The good news is they had never been to any of the places, and I think in spring, they can revisit the places with friends or out-of-town visitors.

One thing though: the traffic in this area bites. Holy fuck. It was already super bad (always a crawl) when I lived here but shit… we must have been in the car yesterday for five hours. That shit is no joke. Not sure the juice is worth the squeeze.

When we got to the National Harbor, stuff was all decorated for Christmas. It was pretty but I mean, my parents aren’t into ANYthing, so we went through that in about ten minutes. I suggested sitting at the bar and getting drinks to soak up the view along the Potomac River, but my parents don’t know how to have fun and don’t know how to enjoy anything so they didn’t want to do that. We got back in the car and drove across the street to the casino. Walked around there for a bit. Sat around in the lobby while I charged my phone. The casino had just opened on December 8, so I think they were still working out some kinks: every single restaurant was booked and not taking walk-ins ,so we ate at the food court. Then, we went home. Of course, the whole time I’m driving us around using Waze, and dad is like trying to ask me what my route is or where are we now or what county is Alexandria in, or if Arlington is better than Alexandria… dude, I haven’t lived in the Mid-Atlantic since 2003. I don’t know. I’m just trying to follow the Waze directions: I dunno where it’s taking me, I just know it’ll route me to the destination. Then he’s like doing the backseat driver thing (and yes, both of them are sitting in the backseat… that’s how Chinese parents roll) that mom did in Taiwan but he’s not as bad. But I still had to keep explaining that I’m sure his way works but Waze factors in the TRAFFIC.

By the end of the day, I am wiped and I mean, like I’ve said before: my parents aren’t impressed by anything. So my conclusion is pretty much: we should have just stayed home. My mom tried to give me some crap like they are just home bodies; it’s not that they are NOT fun people. Um, ok. But you aren’t fun even when you are at home. Homebody and not fun are two different descriptors. In your case, they BOTH apply.

So today, I made plans to have lunch with my college bud M. Thankfully, he offered to drive down from Rockville to Frederick. It was good seeing him but I dunno: people with kids are just totally different. He’s pretty high up in IBM but I think he’s the sole provider and his wife is from Tokyo, so pretty much all their vacation is spent on going back every year to Japan. And their disposable income goes towards school, piano lessons, dance lessons, etc. He says they have had bad luck with baby sitters so they don’t go out much. He doesn’t do any of his hobbies from before… Meanwhile, John and I were both not working for a bit; we traveled like 15 times in the last year… I’m not saying one way is right or wrong: I’m saying, I didn’t really share things in common regarding interests, lifestyle, and priorities. I dunno. Some days I kind of struggle with how divergent our lives are bc of the kid factor. I’m sure the same could be argued (maybe) for my friends who are single… but sheesh, at least they still seem to do stuff.

I mean, is he just sparing me the details of their “stuff” bc it’s all kid-related and I can’t relate? Or I dunno: I feel like I’m being judged as more selfish or self indulgent bc I’m not doing the responsible thing of raising a family? I dunno. Maybe I’m just sensitive bc that’s how my family views me. I’m just out there doing everything from the “me, me, me” perspective. Which is actually not even an accurate impression… Whatever, why should I give a fuck what other people think anyway.

Yesterday at the casino, I saw someone walking a beautiful young black lab. He was so shiny and sprightly– he reminded me of Marty in his younger years. And I felt so sad and empty. I mean, Marty was certainly no Lassie: he never really comforted me when I was upset or crying. But his presence in and of itself offered me comfort when I was sad or upset or disappointed with people. He always accepted and appreciated me for who I was. Even when I would get into a zone and forget to feed him dinner, he never got upset. He just came over and tried to signal to me that he needed something. Oh Marty. such a sweet and patient and forgiving dog. I miss him still.

Sometimes I think all the family holiday crap is a good distraction. But goddamn, I really would just prefer to be home doing some work and planning ahead for 2017 in the peace and quiet of the Houseboat.

Scratchy Sheets

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I swear, every time I go home to Maryland, I feel like a goddamn diva. I arrive at my parents’ house and I mean, it’s the usual, so I don’t know why I even bother writing about it. All the lights in the house are on timers. I know they travel back and forth multiple times a year, but Jesus Christ, if you’re going to be home for longer than a month, can you at least turn the switch on the timer to “live outlet”?? Without fail, evening approaches and the room gets dark as fuck, I go to turn on the lamp and no response. It’s not a HUGE deal to take that extra step of feeling around in the dark for the timer on the floor, but still. Kinda annoying.

Then, I sleep in the first floor suite bc it’s warmer, but for that part of the house (Don’t worry, we’re not in some kind of Aaron Spelling mansion), dad shuts off the water heater. So, rather than turning that shit on like the day I’m coming home, he just says, use the bathroom upstairs for hot water. Lovely. I suppose the ice cold water is good for washing my face, considering my face is still inflammed. Perpetually swollen bc 1) I have RBF (resting bitch face) 2) I’m still crying every day about Marty. And whatever, I can use the bathroom upstairs but the fucking drain has some kind of clog and by the time I’m done with my five-minute shower, I am standing in like 2 inches of dirty water! Argh!!!

The final straw regarding home accommodations is the sheets. You have now idea: my parents have a humongous hall closet upstairs stuffed to the brim with linens. I get to the bedroom where I have stayed the last several years and there’s a cheap polyester quilt on top of the mattress. They didn’t even bother to put fucking fitted sheets on the mattress. For reals. Am I being a big-time diva, or is it fair to expect them to put legit sheets on the bed when their progeny flies across the country to visit. WTF. Then, the comforter is another 100% polyester POS that they don’t even stuff into a duvet cover. Instead, they just put the duvet cover and the comforter on top. Thankfully, the cover is cotton (the only thing that is), so I have that against my skin. Here’s the deal. I have super sensitive skin: I mean, I might as well have a legit medical skin condition bc I get itchy really easily and am susceptible to rashes, hives, minor bug bites (that invariably turn into welts), shingles, acne, what have you…

So this cheap polyester shit makes me itch. And, I forgot to mention that I am still recovering from flea bites all over my ankles… I suppose some kind of parting gift from Marty. You see, the whole week before his passing, I was itching like hell and we had fleas once before, so I was telling John that I suspected fleas and he just kept dismissing it all as my usual skin sensitivities. Mind you, home boy NEVER gets bitten by bugs. Until one day, he spots a black speck on his foot: oh ok, high alert: we have fleas. Yeah asshole, that’s what I have been saying… whatevs. Same shit happened when I got the shingles years ago. I kept telling him the blisters around my trunk were super itchy and painful. Oh just go take a shower. Put on some lotion. Change into new PJs. Fuck you. I went to the doctor and had to get put on super serious prescription meds. And if you read up on shingles, that shit is no games: like neurological issues. Anyway… so I ask my mom where the good sheets are, like COTTON sheets. She comes back with another polyester blend comforter. WTF??? I went upstairs to the linen closet and it’s all towels. Where are the goddamn bedding sets? Forget it. Supremely annoyed, I just sleep on the scratchy shit.

As the night progresses, my skin gets drier (from the heat) and itchier. My bug bites flare up and by 5:30am, I still haven’t slept. I rip off the comforters and take the one cotton duvet cover and essentially put it on the mattress, lie on top and then fold the other half of it over me so I’m in a cotton burrito. The whole time, I am SMH. Why does it have to be like this?

The conclusion on my diva-like behavior? I gotta take things into my own hands. I am purchasing a 100% cotton travel sack from Amazon and this shit is coming with me anytime I visit Maryland again. Fucking A. The odd thing is, for my entire childhood, my grandmother was obsessed with BVD and cotton everything. Have we learned nothing???

 

Playing God

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A few days have passed since we said goodbye to Marty. I have periods of functionality, and then suddenly, I’ll be overcome with emotion. I’ve been feeling really tired lately, and my eyes, even though they no longer appear swollen, feel tight and tired, like I can’t open them as widely and as alertly as I used to.

On Saturday, I met up with M and T for lunch. We met first at M’s house. As soon as she opened her front door, I started to cry. It’s weird bc I can be totally fine (although in this particular case, I had already melted down twice in the car on the way there) and then as soon as I share the news or someone acknowledges the news, I break down again. Anyway, we had a good time remembering Marty, talking through things, and such. M showed off her home’s latest additions– voice-activated lighting: that place needs to be featured in a home design magazine for reals! Everything is meticulously selected, arranged, and maintained. Whenever I get home after visiting her house and/or T’s house, I feel like our Houseboat is just kid’s play. Anyway, they both gave me gifts which cheered me up and then we headed off for lunch. After spending two days hidden from the world, it was good to get out and interact with people again.

Of course, as soon as I got home, poor Bubbey was a mess. He had culled every single photo of Marty into a single album. And it took him 90 minutes to go through picture by picture… blurry, shitty pics and all! Seeing Marty as a young pup really made him realize just how much our boy had aged and slowed down.

Tonight, Bubbey was telling me that losing Marty has been a lot harder than with Remy, in part bc the decision with her came so unexpectedly, with the vet advising it on what we thought was just another office visit. Also, she was in so much worse shape. With Marty, he really was looking and moving ok that day. There was almost an arbitrary nature to our decision… and in that sense, we really struggled with this responsibility of playing God. Some days, like when we look at how much he did as a young dog, we feel like we waited too late, that long ago, he had already stopped doing so many things he used to love: chasing critters at the park, running through the fields, sitting adroitly for treats… Other days though, we still hear him struggling to get up from his bed or climbing through the doggie door or rustling around in the yard. We wake up and think we’ll be taking him to the park for a walk that morning… J and I aren’t particularly great at creating and maintaining habits, but some of these elements have just become so ingrained after all these years.

Last night I was up late fidgeting around with photos. I wanted to print small square prints to include them in my thank you notes to people who contributed to the donation drive. Yesterday, J and I dropped off an entire trunk full of gifted items: food, towels, blankets, treats, collars, leashes, and coats… I was happy to gather a sizeable amount of stuff, but it was challenging pulling into the parking lot, where I came last year to pick up Marty after he’d gone to the elementary school.

I dunno: I guess I’m just rambling now. The bottom line is, the empty nest feels very quiet. With Remy’s passing, we still had to continue about our lives with Marty. Now, it’s just the two of us. Every day continues to be a struggle. I miss him so much, and it’s really hard to feel festive without our little buddy.

My thoughtful cousin AH, who visited two years ago right after Remy passed away, called me yesterday via FB Messenger.

A photo posted by Vicky Gou (@vickygou) on

Turns out, he’d been following my Instagram feed closely, bc he knew Marty was so fragile. And with every post, he was copying and pasting my English caption into Google translate to see in Chinese what I was saying. I was so touched to learn that he was keeping tabs on Marty. He said he was thinking about coming back to visit just to see Marty one last time.

After our call, I was curious about the translation, so I popped it in and listened to the Chinese audio over and over. The translation was surprisingly accurate. Google Translate, man. So freaking sophisticated.