Category Archives: Family

Plant Thieves

For a long while now, J and I have been feeling pretty tired. The last time something like this happened, a coworker of mine suggested I call PGE to check our gas lines and low and behold, they found a pinhole gas leak at the bottom of one of our wall heaters! So, it’s been on my list to just have everything checked once again. I didn’t feel like this qualified for a major emergency, so on Monday, I just called the main line. I was on hold for fucking ever. Finally, I just decided to send in an email. The time was around noon. Basically, I said that we had been feeling tired and the last time this happened, the tech found a small leak. I mentioned this, yes, with the intention of moving it up the queue, but seeing as we had been (possibly) living with this for a while, I didn’t necessarily classify it as URGENT. So I pressed send and went about my day, practically forgetting about the whole email.

At 3 o’clock in the morning, Bubs had fallen asleep on the couch and I was in bed. My phone was buzzing nonstop. Some 877 number. Then I got a bunch of Google voice text messages from PGE: the tech was saying he was here and trying to get inside our gate (which I lock at night with a bolt). I ran out to the living room, and Bubs suddenly got up, saying someone was in the yard. I opened the door and the PGE guy was like, did you just put this ticket in at 2:50 a.m.? Um, no!! Something about how it was urgent and he had to check the house with a gas meter. WTF?? Bubs and I were all disoriented and then I realized what had happened. OMFG. I could not stop laughing. Consumer advocate in action! So the dude was unable to get through to us, so he basically got himself inside the gate and started checking the gas meter in the front of the house. Prior to that, homeboy had also rung the doorbell, which Bub thought was part of his dream. Jesus Christ. Ever since that whole thing happened with Mo and we were unable to get a hold of ANYBODY in the middle of the night, I always sleep with my phone nearby bc shit, emergencies happen. But even so, it took the dude 10-15 min to get us up and moving! Kinda a scary thing to realize. After the initial gas scan, he said PGE would return the next day to check gas on all the appliances in the house (stove, 2 wall furnaces, gas water heater). After he left, Bubs and I had a good laugh. Bubbey said he didn’t know what the hell was going on. He heard the doorbell in his dream and then when he finally registered that someone was outside, he thought the person was trying to steal our plants (yes, the ones that have mostly already been planted into the ground OUTSIDE the front gate). Ah well, obviously, a sleepy brain doesn’t make a lot of sense. I have to admit though: I was a little disappointed bc I always want to live by this quote from the movie Heat. “Don’t let yourself get attached to anything you are not willing to walk out on in 30 seconds flat if you feel the heat around the corner.” Clearly, we are just not ready to handle the heat coming around the corner.

In other news, I spoke to dad yesterday. What’s fucking new, he’s majorly stressed again and sounding down. Still dizzy and just in a sad mood. I think his health is really freaking him out, so now more than ever, he is hurrying to consolidate, simplify, tie up loose ends, and take care of business. In other words, he KNOWS mom can’t handle jackshit, so he’s gotta have it all squared away. Fucking co-dependence. Don’t even get me started. Of course, just as the doctor was telling him too much stress and too much long distance traveling was contributing to his problems, Dad books another fucking flight back to Taiwan for May/June. Jesus Christ. Calm the hell down already. I swear, if I am on this same trajectory of stress and micromanaging every goddamn detail, I’ve got to step up the resistance. For realz. Don’t let me go down that path. Incidentally, what this new travel plan means is that I will probably be headed back to Taiwan some time in June to coincide my visit with the parents and check in again on the three grandparents. Of course, that’s my bday month, so I’ve got to tread lightly. Just what I fucking need: daily volcanic eruptions with mom near my bday, right? Shit, I need to start therapy again now just as preventative medicine. FML.

April Rebirth

This month I’m finally starting to feel renewed. Last Friday, my father got the results of his MRI. Thankfully, no tumors/growths appeared on the scans, and the neurologist says his gray-to-white matter ratio looks good, esp considering his age. Phew, what a relief! Of course, dad is still having symptoms of dizziness but for some reason, things don’t seem quite as dire. The doctor suggested that his symptoms might be triggered by lots of stress paired with too many long-haul flights that could muck up the body’s ability to rebalance and adjust to changes and pressure. Maybe that’s feasible.

Dad also reported that the settlement check went through, so no funny business there. Next, he’s going to get in touch with the real estate agent I found (on a referral from our Virginia agent) and talk to him about selling one of his rental townhouses. Hopefully, the ball is finally starting a roll towards true downsizing.

As for me, my dermaroller device didn’t arrive Saturday morning as I had expected. Major bummer. Even so, J and I had a nice weekend: we basically just ran errands and hung out with each other. It was nice. The gardeners were over again all day moving the watering system, setting pavers, and planting my new plants. We modified the step stones (again), so that required yet another change to the plantings. Another trip to the nursery and holy crap, Saturday was apparently THE day to hit up the nursery. Summer Winds was fricking mobbed! My peeps made great progress though, and I believe Operation Front Yard will be totally done with just one more Saturday. Yippee!!! Can’t wait.

In other news, I had a major scare last week regarding our London hotel booking. I’m always scouring multiple sites to price compare (Duh!), so when I looked in my Priceline and Booking.com mobile apps and saw that both listed a reservation for our hotel in London, I started freaking out, esp bc I had JUST passed the free cancellation mark to, meaning the lodging is prepaid and non refundable. Shiit! The thing is, I didn’t know Priceline and Booking.com are affiliated sites, so I thought maybe somehow I had accidentally made TWO separate bookings for the same exact dates. Holy fuck, I nearly had a heart attack. I called the hotel and thank god the front desk said there was only ONE reservation for my name. Then, when I looked more closely on my Priceline confirmation, it listed a Booking.com confirmation, suggesting the same reservation was just cross listed in both sites/apps. Jesus Christ. How the hell was I supposed to know?

On Sunday, after many weeks of procrastinating, I finally bit the bullet and booked a pair of tickets to Les Miserables at the Queen’s Theatre in London. I had been hemming and hawing bc of the cost and also just bc the play is always so emotionally draining… But seeing it in London IS on my bucket list. And the reviews were universally phenomenal. Bubbey reminded me that he didn’t want to go all that way, only to have the shows sold out or with shitty seats. Good point. I got them babies booked. Now I’m super excited about it again.

My dermaroller finally arrived today. This afternoon I started getting nervous about doing the deed… The instructions say not to wear makeup the day of rolling. Well, I had already met with two contractors for our HVAC estimates and I already have plans for tomorrow, so time to get ‘er done! Overall impressions? You can definitely feel the needles. All was fine until I applied a little more pressure and then I drew some blood. My face got really red, like sunburned red. Of course, as soon as I was done, my neighbors came over to walk the dog. I swear my neighbors are probably wondering what the fuck is wrong with my face… I either have zit cream on in public, or my skin is fucking flamming red. What can I say: the price of keeping my acne shit under control, man. I’m eager to see how my skin looks tomorrow. I’m pretty much bracing for another game-changing product. 🙂 No pressure, right?

Keeping the Household Humming

Some days, I get the sense that Bubs thinks I’m just sitting around twiddling my thumbs and shopping all day online. Admittedly, I am a superstar “researcher” but shit, there’s more to keeping the household humming than just clicking around online. Admittedly, we’ve been on a bit of a spending spree these last several months… What’s that saying, “Happy wife, happy life.” For me, I just want Bubs to be happy. Sounds simple enough, but it’s no small feat for someone prone to depression and negative thinking (actually, both of us!). Bubs works really hard, so whenever he makes a comment or complaint or whatever, I try to be attentive. I’m not trying to be the subservient wife or anything, but he’s my companion and I want to do whatever I can to help create our “best life” together. Ugh, I know. Enough with those fucking Tony Robbins terms. Sorry, not sorry.

Certainly, after I left my job, the first orders of business involved multiple home projects related to the garage and re-organization. But then, Bubbey was frustrated with our disorganized, limited closets, so we got TCS elfa installed. Bubbey said eating out wasn’t good for our diets, so I started cooking more at home, really hustling to have dinner ready when he stepped in the door. Then Bubbey hated our old sofa, so I researched and found a deep-seated sectional. Then, he lamented that we kept postponing our Europe trip and the years were flying by, so I booked that trip (award miles, baby!). Then, he wanted to install ductless heating/cooling to the house, so I’ve scheduled free estimates with two contractors. Then, he said looking at the dead grass (I killed our lawn bc of the drought, and Bubbey loves a green lawn!!) annoyed him, so I took on Operation Front Yard, laying out a plan, researching plants, and directing the gardeners. Yes, I know. I am oozing privilege here bc 1) I have the funds for all these projects and 2) I actually have gardeners instead of having to till the soil and plant the plants myself… Of course, in all these cases, I benefit too bc we have built a life together. And I get satisfaction from being useful and productive. Still, sometimes I get tired of trying to meet every need with minimal acknowledgement. And ultimately, I wonder. Will he ever be happy? Will WE ever be happy? Are we just a couple of malcontents who will never look up despite how much we have and how lucky we are? The theme of “not good enough” surfaces again, and I think of how throughout my life, I have nearly killed myself over this idea of not meeting the standards/expectations, whether they are set by my parents, my family, Bubbey, or myself.

Last week, I started obsessing over my physical imperfections. Honestly, I think the nitpicking was part of a bigger problem of just feeling out of control, esp with the uncertainty of my father’s health. But I’ve always hated my smile. I never show teeth, and even after I got braces taken off in college and I had a straight smile, I hated showing teeth. Now, I noticed that my two front teeth are crooked again. I was so good about wearing that damn retainer for years after brace, but I stopped by the time I was 30. And it shows. I leaned in closer to the mirror and noticed so many pock marks on my nose. That damn nose. It’s been the bane of my existence since forever. After decades of cystic acne, it’s scarred and misshapen. I know these are superficial things, but they are starting to bug me more now than ever. Am I getting greedy? I always think back to my days of youth when I truly believed only two things were required for happiness: 1) a dog 2) no more acne. Remember how I told the universe I would stop complaining if those wishes were answered? Well, look at me now. SMH.

Being the researcher that I am, I figured there’s no harm in gathering information. So I Yelped a few places, and yesterday I went to see an orthodontist. Turns out, J’s dental insurance doesn’t cover ortho at all. Again, it’s just my two front teeth! I’m good with everything else. Well, what could I expect: Orthos are perfectionists too. Long story short, the proposed treatment isn’t just working on those two teeth: no, it’s an entire 18-month long plan with both top and bottom realignments bc my entire line of teeth have to be pushed out to a wider semicircle to create more space for the two front teeth! Fucking A. 18 months of wearing Invisalign for 20-22 hrs/day. And the real kicker? Fucking $8,000!!! Oh, hell no. So I got home all disheartened. I mean, I’m no dentist but can’t they just shave down the front teeth and cap them with veneers? So now I’m going to see a cosmetic dentist next week to ask about some combo of shaving/bonding/veneers to see if we can arrive at a better solution.

Meanwhile, I went to the derm last week for my nose and wtf, the dude hardly had anything to say. He suspects what happened was that the cystic acne deformed my oil glands and pores hence the bumpiness on my nose. Usually, I thought derms could talk laser treatments and resurfacing. Nope, homeboy just wanted me to see a cosmetic surgeon. He said maybe Fraxel could resolve this, but he didn’t even know. Well, shit. Now I blew my one free doctor visit per year on a useless visit. The place he recommended didn’t get good reviews, so now I’m going to check out a skin spa. Ugh, fucking no progress. Maybe if I tackle at least one of the two deformities, I’ll feel better. Then again, maybe I’ll just find a third imperfection to obsess over… Sigh. Some days I exhaust myself.

 

Twists and Turns

After a pretty darn good weekend, this week kicked off in the shits. We had just seen John’s sister S and her dog Jake the week before Easter for the Maryland NCAA game. And J and I had just remarked how amazing Jake looked– so much more energetic and sprightly than Martin. Then suddenly, over Easter weekend, he couldn’t get up and he stopped eating. By Monday, he was gone. Sure, he lived a charmed life: he couldn’t have gotten a better owner than S. She really stuck by him through thick and thin, and he was NOT an easy dog in his younger years. Still, there was just something so upsetting about death and death now for her. It’s been a challenging last 18 months. She lost Bodi (her first dog), then M– the love of her life, and now Jake. I don’t know the details of what happened, but it just goes to show you that life really can keep you on your toes. Just as I was thinking how invincible our dogs have been, coming back from so many illnesses and problems, there is that one last time when they just can’t pull through, and how do you ever prepare for that.

worstdayOur trip to Europe is in two weeks. I’m worried for Martin but what can be done? I also don’t believe in halting my life for fear of bad things happening, and so, I’ve found him a good sitter. I vetted her as much as I could. I’ve left my neighbor’s contact info with her, and we can only go from there.

Meanwhile, I had thought that my grandparents’ townhouse went into settlement last Monday but turns out it was this Monday. On Monday night, my parents called me to tell me 1) dad is feeling better– the dizziness is slowly getting better and he hasn’t had any issues with it while driving 2) dad has an appointment with the neurologist on Friday to review the MRI. Then, Mom got on the phone and said she didn’t know anything about the bombing in Pakistan. Because the buyers are Middle Eastern or Arab (just going off their name– we don’t know if they are Muslim or Pakistani), she’s freaking out now that their check will be invalid or fraudulent or whatever. Jesus Christ, prejudiced much? I mean, you and dad could be fucking Commies since you’re Chinese. And first off, why did you ask for a physical check instead of just getting the money wired into your account? Get with the modern banking system! Second, it’s called escrow. Third, there are a ton of parties involved in the transaction. Are all the settlement attorneys and real estate agents in on it too? Again, this is the level of cray I am dealing with.

Then, more technical issues. Dad’s wifi printer, which was JUST working two days ago, now is offline again. Back and forth. He kept his 15 y/o HP printer just in case, so he plugged in the USB to that unit. No longer printing. Finally, I’m like, just take the USB cable from the old printer and use it for the new printer. OMFG, that took forever. He couldn’t find the socket on the new printer. I’m like, it HAS to be there. Just check all the ports for a hole that is the same shape. How hard can this be? You have no idea. Fifteen minutes later, it’s connected and we are back in action. When I tell my friends, they never understand how cumbersome these troubleshooting calls are with my parents. That’s bc most people they know have a basic level of tech understanding, and words like home button, start button, icon, desktop, window, minimize, maximize, and browser actually MEAN something. My parents get confused every. damn. time. I know they aren’t retarded, but shit, old age sure is fucking making their brains slow.

Come What May

So I’m pretty much speaking to my dad daily at this point. On Monday, he got an appointment with the neurosurgeon who promptly ordered an MRI scheduled for Tuesday. My father is feeling less nauseous, but the dizziness is not subsiding. He tells me the MRI is pretty fine-grained, and it can usually detect Alzheimer’s, tumors, and/or blockages (something about the brain arteries not carrying enough oxygenated blood?). I dunno, I’m pretty sure it’s frustrating as hell trying to communicate with a biology/medical newb. Meanwhile, his family in Taiwan is freaking out and calling him every day.

The good news is that he has finally started doing some exercises– just 10 minutes twice a day. Nothing on his new elliptical but I suppose so long as his balance feels unstable, that’s probably smart. I haven’t spoken to my mother since that day she asked me to come home if it turns out to be something serious. My guess is that she is paralyzed even further by fear and catastrophic thinking. That’s her m.o. anyway. I’ve pretty much taken over the coordination/communications of his property-related items. He keeps telling me he just can’t handle those things mentally right now, and then he apologizes for being a “burden” on me. At the same time, I think he is somewhat resigned to what will come. He says he wants to keep living but if something happens, that’s life. It’s so weird to think so much nowadays about mortality. The inevitability of it does nothing to lessen the emotions. I wonder if he has a different perspective due to his profession. Stanford’s Dr. Kalanithi comes to mind. I’m trying to stay calm until more information is available. As you can tell from my family, it’s hard to keep the worry in check.

I was up early today for yoga again. Class 3. Still way more intense than I would like, but I’m feeling the soreness and taking that to mean progress on some small level. Turns out I have six more classes left by March 29. In the very least, I hope to finish this week out strong. It’s a little weird being back on an early schedule again. When I walked Marty this morning, I ran into all the kids walking to school. I also bumped into a neighbor (the one who complained to me months ago at the park about parenting): she asked me what I was up to… Turns out, her sister is also taking classes now to get her real estate sales license. I’ve been reaching out to a number of people I know (including my loan officer) to just get some more scoop/background. Honestly, I’m probably doing a little bit of analysis paralysis here, but I’ll get going soon enough.

What else. Yesterday, I made two trips to the nursery for plants. Yeah, for weeks now, our front yard has just been a big muddy lot. I had our gardener completely cut off the water, so the lawn browned and then last month, he dug up the remnants so that only dirt was left. Trying to re-do the front lawn the cheap way, I asked my friend J, who is a hobbyist gardener. The lady came back with a freaking watercolor painting of her proposal. And with Pinterest and many conversations with my gardener, I did a mockup plan. I kinda wanted him to take my design board and go with it, but my gardener insisted that I buy the plants. Ugh, fine. Turns out, that was a good idea, bc stuff I thought I wanted didn’t look good in person, so there were several modifications. Now, the crew is coming Saturday to get started. Btw, who the fuck knew plants were so damn pricey. I mean sure, I’m always stuck in 1980s pricing, but shiit. I don’t even feel safe piling up all these plants behind my front gate. Some of them should be on lockdown or something. SMH.

I guess it all works out though, bc I was pleased to sell my Petrie sofa today! Yup, I had posted almost two weeks ago on Craigslist and on a for sale app called OfferUp. No interest at $700 (which I admit was a high starting price). I then dropped $25 and got some interest. Today, a lady from Menlo Park stopped by and put down a deposit. I kinda wish I had held firm at $675 but I came down another $50. Both M and Bubbey were shocked that my sofa sold for that much, but hey man, there are plenty of frugal rich people out there!! After the sale, as I drafted a quick text confirming receipt of the deposit, she revealed that her hubby is a lawyer. Something about them moving and they just sold their couch, so maybe this one is a temporary one? See? I could have gotten $700 Bubbey bucks.

Ok well it’s suddenly 4p, and I gotta scramble to get groceries and make dinner. Yup, living the June Cleaver lifestyle these days. Except for the etiquette/manners/charm school part, I’m pretty good with managing the home!

Groupon Grind

Even though I’m now getting better sleep, keeping my mind healthy remains a constant challenge. My parents called this past weekend: dad is still feeling really dizzy and nauseous. He plans to call the neurosurgeon today to make an appointment and maybe get a CAT scan. Scary. I did a light Google search last night about dizzyness, and most of the results come up pointing to ear issues. Honestly though, and this is kind of unlike me bc I’m not generally superstitious, but I’ve been a little reluctant to dig too deeply, afraid of what I might find. The thing is, the ENT last week cleared him of anything serious from that perspective, but my dad says the symptoms suggest problems with the cerebellum so… I dunno. I’m just feeling anxious about so many things.

J and I are headed to Europe next month– for only ten days but I’ve got Marty, who is sleeping through the night now but his back legs are getting weaker and his appetite is fussy again. We gave him subcutaneous fluids yesterday for the first time since December. The new dog sitter was keen on watching him when I met her, but now she has yet to confirm the booking on Rover. Then I don’t know what’s going on with my dad and his health issues. Plus, I still got my three 90+ y/o grandparents in Taiwan (should I visit them sooner than later?). And then my in-laws are struggling and grumpy, stressing Bubbey out. Then it’s tax time and I never feel organized enough with my record keeping.

Job-wise, I decided to pursue the real estate route, but I dunno, I’m feeling other insecurities like what if I’m not a good sales agent or it takes me forever to ramp up or… what will people think? Like we had dinner with some friends on Saturday night, and they’re both in tech/startup and Bubbey’s in tech. After we went around the table kinda catching up on what they’re doing work-wise, I felt so sheepish talking about going into real estate. I dunno. It’s just a constant battle with my confidence, I tell ya. And then, again, I’m almost 40. Why don’t I already have my shit figured out?

I’ve been searching on Eventbrite lately for housing/remodel/green design events. As my friend K has suggested to me before, one avenue is to tie in my environmental engineering background/interests into real estate through like green building or sustainable construction. I dragged J to a home design trends event last Saturday morning at Palo Alto Library. It was kinda cool to see about the latest… who knew there are now porcelain tiles that look like hardwood floors?? Super durable. Some of the other trends def reminded me of what I’ve been seeing on Fixer Upper too. Tomorrow night, I’m going to an event at the Mountain View Library about using your laundry graywater for landscaping. I’m trying to test the waters to gauge my interest in these potential offshoots…

Ultimately though, I know that exercise is critical to keeping my mind from going crazy. I realized last night that my yoga Groupon expires one week from today, and I still have like 8 classes left to use. Yep, I slacked off big time. So this morning, I was up early and I made it to the 9:30 hatha yoga class. Fuck, I can feel how out of shape I am. Fucking lame, but I’m aiming to attend class every day this week. Can’t let those $40 go to waste, right? The factors that trigger me… I’ve also got a Groupon remaining for the local JCC. Maybe I’ll activate that after Europe. My plan is to wade around in their heated pool during the day when (hopefully) no one else is around.

 

 

On Speed Dial

Since returning from our weekend Phoenix, I’ve been feeling super agitated and angry. As you know, in recent weeks, my parents have become more and more dependent on my help, and their lack of tech savvy and my mother’s overall inability to communicate makes helping them particularly trying. Now, the latest situation is that my father asked the post office to hold their mail for like two months. My dad filled out the form and designated his longtime office manager to pick up the mail before he got back– something about post office limits on holding mail and limits for when to pick up. Anyway, his office manager (whom I absolutely trust) insists that he didn’t instruct her to pick up the mail, so dad goes to the office and the rep says someone already came for the mail. WTF? My dad only entrusts two people. He asks both and neither one picked up the mail. Supposedly, the post office supervisor checked the designated name with id and then THREW OUT the form. No signature required, nothing. What kind of agency operates without a paper trail/record??? So now, my parents who are already a little nervous about account security, are freaking out bc well, bank statements, rent checks, investment statements. First, I’m like: why the hell are you still doing paper statements? Second, WTF, USPS? Is this an inside job? Sounds so sketchy. Thankfully, my dad’s friend is going to file a report to trigger an investigation. Seriously, who took their mail? Fucking pain in the ass.

Meanwhile, on one of dad’s properties, there twice has been a dead deer carcass. Animal control said they aren’t responsible for stuff on private property, so guess who disposed of the carcass from like 3 weeks ago? Yup, dad with rubber gloves. The dude is 71 y/o. Then yesterday, my parents call, and my mother wants to speak to me. She starts rattling off about dad helping my cousin with a down payment and how there’s no money, blah, blah. Mom is a fucking freak. I mean, if she’s flipping out about money then 1) why has she been so slow/lame/obstructionist about convincing her parents to sell their townhouse? 2) Her long lost brother appeared in Taiwan last week. Did she or dad even bother to ask him for shit to help support his parents? Nope. Didn’t even ask. Fucking Chinese culture, I tell you. Ultimately, the point of mom’s conversation with me (20 minutes later) was to tell me my father has been feeling really dizzy and unstable and he threw up multiple times over the last few days. He had an appointment that very afternoon with an ENT, but if things turned out to be serious, could I go back to Maryland to help her care for him? Immediately, I grew so angry. Just her circuitous communication style and now her helplessness and neediness. And I absolutely blame her and my brother for all the stress Dad has been under. Again, their incompetence and utter lack of action caused this.

Then my dad got on the phone and said his self-diagnosis is that it’s stress induced. I grew so angry that everything had come to this. I started blaming my mother, and my dad just said look, she doesn’t have the capacity. Her mind can’t handle all of this. The years of anxiety and worry over Johnny have crumbled her mind. Well, still. I was pissed. I told you guys to let go of the Johnny bullshit. Then he started crying, rambling about never asking me to repair my relationship with my brother but that Johnny is doing better and is becoming more mature. Blah, blah. The whole spiel again about how my “helping Johnny is you helping us.” Fucking A!!!  Even if Johnny were better and more mature (his FB feed these days is all about Feeling the Bern, so what, now he’s suddenly a socialist?!?)… Who the fuck cares? He’s utterly useless! I admit, on my last visit to Taiwan, he showed progress, but goddamnit, it’s too little too late. And it’s like basic math: if you start with 1 and DOUBLE that (Wowee, 100% growth), you’re still only at 2. So he’s better, so what? How does that serve any of us? A 2 is not gonna give us jackshit. It’s not that I am trying to pawn off my responsibilities, but seriously, why isn’t Johnny helping them with logistics, paperwork, travel shit over in Taiwan? Why am I being called to help from afar? That’s what I mean. Fucking take care of the low-hanging fruit!! Whatever.

Referring to my cousin, my dad just said he only helps family when he can, if he has the ability. He mentioned the Chinese term yuan, which is most closely defined as a combination of fate, destiny, and affinity/connection. He said it was his yuan to support and care for my mother’s parents, just like it is his yuan to have a daughter like me. Oh God, and then we’re both crying. My father is a very stoical person, so it just breaks my heart when he cries. I told him to call me after the medical appointment.

As soon as I got off the phone, I fucking went ballistic. I was so fucking furious. And of course, I’m home alone with Marty conked out (he was so tired after returning from the sitter’s). Entering into a fit of rage, which for me, is completely silent and internal but inside, I am going fucking bonkers. I know the blame game doesn’t help anything, but I absolutely blame my mother and her stubborn insistence on helping my brother at ALL COSTS for all of this: an entire history of stress, extra work, and now my father’s health problems. If she weren’t so fucking psyscho and senseless, multiple people wouldn’t have the added stress of trying to carry out her ridiculous wishes and demands– all of which she is unable to execute on her own. Somedays, I really hate her.

And then I try to calm myself down. She’s mental. How can you fault someone for an illness? But, do I really believe it’s an illness? I don’t know. And even if it really were, why doesn’t she just keep her shit to herself? Why does she have to drive everyone else around her fucking crazy? Like the whole eldercare situation with her parents. Back and forth about their security and not trusting the caretakers and this and that. Fucking paranoia central and to accommodate her insanity, so much more work for other people. I mean, my aunts now are next door checking in on them daily and then mom’s getting stingy about dad giving money to his own family? It’s just absolute bullshit. The real answer should have been to put my grandparents in a senior community/campus and ask the brother for help paying for it. Done. Repeated bad decision making.

The good news is that dad called late last night, and the ENT doctor thinks everything is just stress-related but nothing super dire like a stroke or rupture. Rest, muscle relaxers, steroids, etc. I thought yesterday though about how at some point, I will have to go there to help them. And I know mom would just fucking drive me mad, just like she did when I was back there for my grandfather’s fall/surgery. All lip and no helpful action whatsoever. Well, that’s not true: she cooked/cleaning for my grandparents for the last ten months. That counts for SOMEthing. Fine, but again, it is precisely her paranoia that prohibited us from using their resources to make things easier on everyone. That is entirely unacceptable to me.

I know my emotions are harsh and my words unkind. She’s still my mother. Frankly, I wish I were a bigger and better person, but I just don’t know how to reconcile these opinions I have of her. I think I’m going to have to go to therapy soon.

Kudos to Kdash

Being the prude that I am, I wasn’t particularly thrilled this week when Kim Kardashian posted a nude selfie (with strategic blacked out areas). In fact, when I saw it appear in my pop culture social media feeds, I kinda rolled my eyes thinking “self-absorbed” and you know, generally “overexposed as usual.” Then the Bette Midler/KK twitter storm happened, and I gotta say: Kdash has a point. Why am I being so critical/judgey about a grown woman’s choice to do what she wants? Admittedly, in my younger years, I was all about being judgmental. Judgement was practically my middle name: why is she being so trashy; why is she celebrating sex rather than intelligence? Why is she objectifying herself? As I got older though, I started to come around. Perhaps I started to get a taste of my own judgey medicine, enduring the judgement of my parents, my relatives, and even my friends, regarding anything from my choices on profession, family, politics, philanthropy, attire and/or spending habits…

It’s one thing to be judged when you’re young and foolish (and obnoxiously self-righteous– been there, done that!), but it’s an entirely different thing to be judged as an adult. Sure, my parents didn’t hide their displeasure even as I entered my mid 30s: the child-free thing, the non-career job hopping thing, the living abroad, the casual attire (jeans!?!)… I suppose some part of me just came to expect their constant criticism, although by now after all the recent shit I’ve had to handle for them, they are finally letting up. I can’t necessarily say the same is true for my friends. Sure, I def went through a phase of you know, “hit me with the truth.” I don’t shy away from radical honesty, so at times, I ASKED for brutal honesty. I actively solicited the feedback. But issues arise when we disagree on our choices, and people start telling me what I ought to be doing or how I should be behaving AFTER I’ve already expressed that I’ve decided for myself. That’s when shit starts to get messy and irritating. And so for Kdash, I see her point. What she posts to her feed is her choice. If I don’t like it, I don’t have to follow it. On a related note: if Bette Midler were indeed friends with Kdash, does that mean Bette has to agree with Kdash on everything? I don’t think so, but apparently, Kdash expects complete agreement (maybe she interprets that as loyalty) from her friends. I think that part is kinda immature.

But let’s take a real example: politics and/or philanthropy. My top causes are the environment, women’s health, and medical/humanitarian services. Those are my core issues. I know the Bay Area is in the middle of a housing crisis. I know there is low supply, high demand, and sky high rent/purchase prices. Cost of living is through the roof. Clearly, this area is NOT affordable. But when I’m asked why I’m not attending town hall meetings or supporting rent control policy and legislation or whatever, it should be enough when I say that it’s not an issue that I want to spend my time/energy/resources on. My choice on what I prioritize shouldn’t be questioned, and I shouldn’t be harassed.

The bottom line is this: my parents are immigrants, so there’s no notion that you HAVE to live in any given place. I have lived in five different states and in two different countries. I know there is abject poverty in the US, but shit, there is a very different prevalence and intensity of poverty that I have seen in other parts of the world. I have never felt that any given city/place is my “rightful” home. In other words, I’m not entitled to live anywhere just because I grew up there or bc my family lives there or whatever. In Shanghai, people go where the jobs are. Housing is also crazy expensive, so people live in zero space with multiple roommates, or they live far away in the suburbs or somewhere else entirely. Sure, the Bay Area is well beyond affordable even for educated, yuppie professionals. If yups get priced out of the area, they should move. Isn’t this a natural progression for cities? They get expensive and people move away (but there are always people who can still afford to live there). I have seen this play out over and over again: Taipei, Shanghai, Tokyo. Life doesn’t guarantee anyone a home anywhere. And then with all the recent news attacking tech workers bc they are earning higher income. Why are tech workers obligated to support any given cause? I mean, sure, in general, civic participation is a good thing, but should it be mandatory? Should it be an expectation? And if tech workers, as high wage earners, have a responsibility to the community, what of the average American who is living in ridiculous extravagance compared to people in developing countries. And what about parents? Do they have an even greater responsibility or obligation to be involved in the process? After all, they have kids who are the future. Why aren’t they at all these meetings? Most parents I know don’t even keep up with the news, and shouldn’t they bc they actually are invested in the future? Who is to say?

You see, I’ve been on both sides of the judgement spectrum. How many times do people consider me selfish or insular for not having kids. It’s as if, I just want to live my own life and not care about other people or the community or the future. Partly true, but when Jennifer Aniston was harassed in yet another interview about being child-free, she countered, “just bc I don’t have kids doesn’t mean I don’t care/nurture people or friends or animals. There are many ways to demonstrate care…” Yeah people. Back the fuck up. Don’t act like you’re God’s greatest gift just bc you are raising a kid. I’ve always argued to my parents that kids aren’t a purely selfless act: at least for the Chinese people I know, kids are an investment in the parents’ own future– it’s their way of ensuring someone is around to take care of them when they’re old. Anyway, long story short, Kdash just really got me thinking about choices and judgement. I guess I’m saying it’s hard to have an opinion and yet refrain from being judgey. Still, I try my best to catch myself and to stay vigilant.

New Buttons, New Outlook

So I finally prevailed in my feud with Crate & Barrel. Despite their initial refusal to repair my popped sofa buttons, I continued to push back, and ultimately, customer service agreed to re-attach my seven buttons on the Petrie sofa. The day after I returned from Palm Springs, the furniture repair guy made a house call. Now, part of my case for requesting repair was that I don’t have kids and my dogs NEVER get on the furniture, so there’s no reason why these buttons should keep popping off. To not appear like a fucking liar, I spent FORever on Monday night and Tuesday morning trying to get Muddy Waters’ stains out of the chaise. But turns out, when the guy arrived, I also wanted to ask his recommendations for stain removal, meaning I had to bring it up. Matt was a big, heavyset guy (I actually thought my new sectional might break with him sitting in the middle of it!)– super nice and cool. First, he admitted that buttoned furniture are THE WORST. If there are buttons anywhere, they will come off. He said some customers have beautiful, super expensive tufted leather couches (think Restoration Hardware) and the buttons come off in no time with very minimal wear. See? He totally corroborated my claim that they just fall off for no reason without any abuse! Second, he himself has a 7-y/o German Shepherd who stays in a very defined area of the house except when there are fireworks. Then, the dog goes totally berserk. So he totally empathized with Marty behaving out of character, triggered by fear. We chatted it up the whole time he was here: it took him 90 minutes to reattach all the buttons. Now, that couch is ready for sale. Yippee! First, Craigslist and the neighborhood list. Then Ebay.

petriea
As for the chaise part of my new sectional, it’s mostly back to normal. It seriously took me hours and endless reapplications of this super potent, stinky drycleaning solvent. I’m sure I blasted all remaining brain cells, but in the end, I’m happy with my progress. Two nights ago in the middle of the night Marty was having his anxiety issues and he tried again to get on the (re-cleaned) couch, so for now, I am keeping a close eye and covering the furniture with all kinds of things, including big bubble bubble wrap. I know, NOT optimal in the long term, but I’m hoping we can get his issues under control in the next few days and return to normalcy after that.

This morning, I was awoken again by a call from Dad. He and mom had just flown into SFO, but for the last travel leg back to Maryland (SFO-IAD), they were on separate flights (long story). In other words, Mom has to fly solo today (which she has never done EVER). Basically, she was freaking out about having to wait without my dad for her flight and what if… they change gates or she misses the announcement or blah, blah, blah. Again, paralysis by paranoia. So Dad wanted me to call her closer to her boarding time to guide her on the phone before getting on her flight. WTF, are you for real??? I mean, as someone who is all about self-sufficiency, I’m thinking Jesus Christ, enough with the goddamn hand holding! But as usual, they sound stressed, they already feel bad about waking me up and asking for help… so fine! I try calling her Taiwan mobile as a test, but it doesn’t go through. I think her phone only works in Taiwan. I guess the universe helped me out there. Mom, you’re just going to have to figure it out on your own.

In related news, J and I went to a play last night called Tokyo Fish Story. Despite my many recent duds (esp with K), Goldstar pulled through last night. Incredibly well-acted and well done. First, I’m not gonna lie: it was kinda bizarre to see Asians in a play. That whole Oscars so white thing is real. Very minimal representation of Asians in theater. But I digress. Anyway, the story was vert poignant, and it really struck a chord with me, hitting on themes of Asian culture, showing how starkly those values contrast even across generations in the same culture. It reminded me of the internal conflict that for so long, I didn’t even recognize or attribute to growing up Chinese-American. But even thinking about how much my parents rely on me now, how much they expect from me, and how I feel obligated to help them even if “helping” feels more like “enabling”– the latter of which conflicts so strongly with my own personal values of self sufficiency and empowerment… The play addresses the concept of respect and how in Asian culture, respect often equates to conceding and acquiescing and never challenging your elders. As J and I walked back to our car, I realized that so much of my youth was spent rejecting and denying my Asian-ness. And now, as I’m on the brink of 40, I finally am realizing how I am a blend of so many things. All these years, I wasted energy trying to categorize myself into neatly defined boxes, be they personality types or some other kind of label (What kind of car would I be? What kind of love language am I? What is my dress style?). Ultimately, I am a complex amalgamation of many things. I’m American-born Chinese and I like that I speak Mandarin. I’m happy that I know how to play the zither, that I enjoy Chinese language films, that I know how to make dumplings and roast duck… Usually yes, I’m an ESTJ but sometimes I’m ISTJ or something beyond both of those types. Some days, I dress like a cowgirl. Other days, I feel more edgy/rocker. Still other days, I prefer heels and a classic sheath dress. For some reason, I was so concerned about consistency in presentation, as if that uniformity somehow equated/attested to my character or integrity. But the truth is, being blended and complex (and unpredictable) is largely what it means to be human. Bubbey once told me he loved how I continued to surprise him. I hope my recent self acceptance pulls up a chair and stays for a while.

Muddy Waters Marty

The other day, I was thinking more about my masseuse’s comment: What kind of crazy stressful life are you living? To be honest, I felt kind of ashamed when he said that, bc duh, I’m not even working right now. I don’t necessarily feel super stressed, but then again, I also have a history of being oblivious to stress until it manifests physically (shingles, H1N1, walking pneumonia). While in Palm Springs though, I definitely noticed that I slept better. The hotel was so freaking quiet, and I slept uninterrupted through the entire night. At home, I have the toughest time getting rest. Every leadership and productivity book I read talks about the importance of sleep. There have also been recent studies linking shitty sleep to Alzheimer’s (which my maternal grandmother now has and I think my mother will have…). I’ve been trying desperately to get that shit sorted, so I don’t follow their same path towards crazy.

So after two days of rest and relaxation, I came back late Monday to a number of things that immediately swung me back into an anxious state. First, Marty completely soiled my new sectional with mud. Yes, the couch that is dry-clean only and requires water-free solvent!chaise

Granted, the Bay Area was socked in with rain and wind while I was away– unusually wet and stormy weather. J says Marty was stressed bc I was away. I dunno: it’s never been an issue before, but seeing as old age is turning him into a different dog, I suppose it’s possible. Then, there’s also the high pressure changes that might have made him uncomfortable. Certainly, in the last several years, as a senior dog, he has never had a habit of getting on the furniture. In the last year, there have been times with his sundown syndrome (nighttime anxiety) when Bubbey has invited him onto the old sofa to spoon and calm down. But he never invites himself. I don’t know if he was stressed or confused or what. Needless to say, when I walked through the door and saw the extensive muddy mess ALL over the white chaise, I was so pissed. The weird thing is, typically I’m not one for keeping possessions in mint condition (I have a scratched car, scratched wood floors, dirty leather boots, etc.). I value use and practicality over keeping shit pristine and unused, but I dunno. It was less than a month old, and I was really trying to embrace this new art of staying tidy. Still, who could fault Marty. He wasn’t trying to act out. I mean, in his old age, he just isn’t quite himself anymore. J was beyond exasperated when I got home. It was interesting how in two days, our positions flip flopped. The week prior, I had been exhausted and frustrated. Marty was super clingy during the day (often getting in my way and causing me to trip on him) and then at night, he was restless, scratching his bed a billion times, panting crazy, and going in and out of the doggie door. I was so annoyed, I yelled at him a few times, and Bubbey tried to remind me that he was a good dog. Similar to what we have witnessed with our oldie humans, these elder years are fucking challenging, man. And if I think back, they were excruciatingly difficult with Remy too.

Maybe he just needed to feel safe in a den? So we brought out his dog crate. Both Remy and Marty were crate trained, and when we lived in Virginia, they were crated during the day. I’m a big advocate of crating but we stopped the practice in 2004 just bc they were fine without it. So I put him back in on Monday night, and shit, he started wigging out. WTF is going on? I let him out after a few minutes. Ugh. Probably too many years have passed since crate living. That night though, he slept like a fucking rock in the bedroom. No wakeups or anything. I was hopeful.

Then, the very next day, same shit as before: clingy during the day. I was thinking that maybe I ought to confine him to a room so I can rest at night, so I put him in my office where he usually sleeps while I am on the computer most of the day. In the middle of the day, I left for a few hours and when I came back, he had knocked the water bowl and was again stressed and panting. That night, the sundown syndrome was back with a vengeance. I got no sleep and in the middle of the night, I started researching this. Holy crap: so many forums where people have old dogs (> 11 years) and these same problems!! People liken this period to having a newborn. They aren’t getting any sleep and they are worried about functioning at their jobs during the day. They have tried everything: crating, melatonin, doggie xanax, Benedryl, sleeping in the human’s bed, etc. It makes me think of a comment my friend J once made about being the father to three children. He said, “Now I know why pigs kill (roll over) their young.” And it’s sad, bc I remember the glory days when everyone was young and happy and healthy. Remy and Marty brought me so much joy. How can I NOT try every possible option? So that night, I ordered a few tinctures plus some homeopathic sleeping pills. Part of the complication is that Marty’s kidney disease makes it difficult for him to process standard pain meds (for arthritis) and in the past when we tried xanax, it made things worse. And then with all the upcoming travel, I worry about getting him adequate care.

Meanwhile, in the last few weeks, I’ve been getting those calls in the middle of the night from mom in Taiwan. My phone rings at like 3am, and when I see it’s from Taiwan, I feel anxious that maybe something happened to the grandparents (all three are over 93 y/o) or my parents. Nope, mom just got the time change wrong. Jesus fucking Christ. Then, yesterday, after a sleepless night with Marty, I got a call from Dad at 8am. Johnny was supposed to cancel my grandparents’ return flight since they are going to live in Taiwan now but instead, he accidentally checked them in. Can I call United and fix it of figure out the cancel/change/refund situation? Ugh!! Dad is all maxed out and stressed. Normally, WTF. Get the AB Duke scholar (my brother) to call and fix his mistake! But then Dad sounds so stretched and at the end of his string, that Jesus Christ, fine. I’ll do it. Argh!! Next time, I will just have to call my brother and tell him to handle it. Fucking A. As for the “helping my parents” vs enabling issue. My dad just is not in the mental state right now to be empowered. Between dealing with my neurotic mother and handling all my maternal grandparents’ paperwork/logistics (the townhouse, medical coverage, housing– moving from place to place, travel, taxes, etc.) plus his youngest sister just underwent heart surgery, it’s just too damn much. And again, as I am seeing with Marty, old age is fucking my Dad over. He just can’t function the way he used to. His capacity is down big time.

I guess this is what people call the sandwich generation. It’s this period in your life when you are trying to raise and care for your own family while also handling eldercare. It’s especially stressful I think when you feel like there aren’t enough people to help. Like my Dad does everything (yes partly bc he is a control freak), but also bc my mother doesn’t have the capacity and bc my brother really is a fucking useless tard.

Anyway, as I write all this out, it’s no fucking wonder my muscles are tighter than hell. I’m just trying to take this shit one step at a time. The first calming tincture did not help Marty at all last night. Tonight, I’ll try the second one. I sure hope it knocks Marty out.