Category Archives: Getting Shit Done

Come What May

Leave a reply

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!

Discovery Island

Leave a reply

I’ve been in big time product discovery mode lately. My mind’s been back in overdrive and to make matters worse, Marty’s doggie dementia recently hit new heights. Every night, he was panting excessively, scratching his bed like a maniac, and just being generally neurotic, unsettled, and jumpy. J and I were both at wit’s end. “He’s going down!! We can’t take this anymore!” we screamed. Then one night, I started researching doggie dementia again, and holy crap, I came across a forum where so many people are having the same issues! They lamented about how much joy their dogs brought to their lives and yet, they were really at the end of their tethers bc the old dogs were practically unrecognizable in behavior. There was this palpable tension of being frustrated and sleep deprived, teetering on the verge of pulling the plug but then also still wanting to honor the lifelong friendship with their pets. Ah, the heartbreak! Many things, I’d come across before: Rescue Remedy, Thundershirt, melatonin, Benadryl, and then… Apawthecary Tranquility Blend AND Hyland Calms Forte. Huh? I went to Amazon and read the reviews. Bam! Ordered. The homeopathic tincture arrived last Monday and holy Jesus Mary and Joseph: Marty has been sleeping through the night for the last seven days. As for me, I’ve been taking the Calms Forte tablets and what the what? Sleep for all!!! No waking up on the 2-3 hour OB/GYN or new parents’ cycle. Fucking miracle!!! We’re all saved. I haven’t slept this well in YEARS.

Of course, my research did not stop there. Bc of the Muddy Waters incident, an acquaintance directed me to Norwex microfiber cleaning cloths, recommending that I use them for the new sectional… except that Norwex works with water and my sofa is water-free only (cleaning code S). Nonetheless, what’s this product she’s raving about? I investigated. Holy crap. $30 for a pair of microfiber cloths?? Can they really be that phenomenal? I was intrigued. Well, this necessitated drilling deeper, bc you know I’m a cheap bastard. Whatdya know? I came across the blog of a former Norwex rep (FYI Norwex is a direct sales/MLM-style company, like Mary Kay, Amway, JuicePlus, etc.). The rep said she absolutely loved their cloths, but they were too damn pricey. She found a cheaper alternative, called ecloths. So I ordered those just to see what all this fuss was about. The cloths arrived last week and holy cow. Every glass surface in my house is now spotless– even cleaner than with Windex + newspaper, which already was already freaking trail-blazing, in my opinion. And with just water!!! I was so excited, I couldn’t wait for Bubbey to get home that day to see the difference. Sadly, when he got home the sun had already gone down and he couldn’t really tell. But, the next morning, even Bubs was impressed. That shit is cray! You will have to see for yourself.

Continuing on the cleaning vein, yeah, since my new sectional was all high maintenance with the whole water-free thing, I did have to use solvent. If any of you should have the misfortune of getting your upholstery soiled by a Muddy Waters, I’d recommend K2r solvent. I mean, Marty did a real number, but after multiple applications, I’m pretty happy that order got restored. Good enough, at least.

In non-product-related news, our Phoenix trip was a blast. I had been there two years ago for a weekend with G and then before that with Bubs and our friend M for the Grand Canyon. This trip was more focused on Phoenix and Scottsdale. I gotta say: I’m not a fan of the politics there or the utter lack of Asians (Asians are less than 3% of the population!), but shit, I am a fan of cheap(er) real estate and shiit, 299 days of sunshine every year! Plus, the store/shop names are so much for creative. Like we ate at a pie shop called The Pie Hole, next door to a pizza joint called Humble Pie. Then, there was a breakfast spot called The Good Egg. And a used car lot called the Jalopy Jungle. And a mega gas station called Super Pumper. See? Creative, right? J and I found some decent grub too, well except the mediocre sushi (duh!). We hit up Bob Marley at the Tempe Improv (fantastic show!!), the Desert Botanical Garden where there’s a really beautiful integration of sculpture art + plants, and I didn’t even realize this until our last day, but Frank Lloyd Wright’s western campus for his architecture school is based in Scottsdale at Taliesin West. We did a tour, and now I’m planning to add FLW buildings to my bucket list. So cool! Turns out, he also designed a house in a Phoenix suburb for his son, and we’re gonna hit that up next time! Overall, another great quickie destination (with direct flights to SJC): truth be told, AZ might just make it onto our “places to live” list. That said, I should mention that the PHX Sky Harbor Airport is a disaster. New and beautiful but fuck, that place is run like an LAX: disorganized with lots of idle staffers doing zippo about long lines. It was an optimizer’s nightmare, and for sure, both of us nearly lost it witnessing the egregious inefficiency on our flight out. SMH. Total buzzkill to end the trip, but I guess you win some and lose some.

On Speed Dial

Leave a reply

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.

New Buttons, New Outlook

Leave a reply

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

1 Reply

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.

Big Bday

Leave a reply

Bubs turned 40 this week. We always say that we’re so old and have been together so long, that we’ve run out of gifts to buy, so let’s just focus on experiences… and then last minute, we think of things to buy! This year, with the completion of the garage cabinets and general household organization, Bubs mentioned getting a tool chest. I enlisted the expertise of K’s beau D (a certified builder of many things) and whatdya know, he pointed me to a very affordable heavy-duty system. After a couple of hours of price checking, reading reviews, and conducting my usual overkill on product research, I was ready to buy and deliver. Goddamn, Amazon Prime’s got me spoiled! I gotta wait until mid March? Nope, not gonna work. So then, I decided to pick that shit up in store. Well, not sure if you’ve noticed, but Sears stores are few and far between. Next, check stock. The only store with stock for immediate pickup? 30 minutes away in SJ. Not terribly far but still some distance. My mistake? I foolishly thought that I could fit a set of rolling drawers + a top tool chest in a 4-door sedan. Mind you, I showed up and the guy looked at me like I was totally insane. But you know me: VG is a persistent beotch. “Maybe if I move the passenger seat or we take it out of the box…” After a few minutes of my shenanigans, we got the top chest into the front of my car. No luck with the rolling drawers.

Thank goodness for friends with trucks, man! After lamenting my issue, K immediately enlisted the help of D, who promptly agreed to pick up the drawers and deliver them to my house that night!! Damn, these people move fast! By 9p, we had the whole system set up in the garage! Thanks K+D!! Granted, I specifically bought the system that only required assembling the cart handle and the wheels (The Seville brand systems require like 3 hrs. of assembly!). And of course Bubs and I don’t read instructions, so we installed the wheels without first putting on the flanges. Duh. One of these days, we’ll learn. I think Bubs is pretty happy, and I’m pleased too: went through Upromise AND got both items on major sale. Hee, hee.

So his bday has quietly been a multi-day celebration. The day before, he got his tool chest. The day of, his Timberland chukkas arrived just in time (thank goodness for Amazon free shipping/returns!). I’ve been trying to get him to like Timberland shoes for years, and he finally warmed up to them. For dinner, I bought a pricey hunk of USDA prime steak (Thanks M for treating us to Schaub’s!!) and paired that with scallops for my home version of “Surf and Turf.” The sear on the scallops wasn’t very good bc I used a nonstick instead of cast iron, but the NuWave did a pretty awesome job on the ribeye. I swear, I need to go into sales and marketing for that damn appliance. Truth be told, the flavor via NuWave is more similar to how Bubs and I both grew up eating steaks– cooked in the oven broiler or via toaster oven. Tasty, but the flavor when cooked on the open flames of a grill are better. My family freaks out about consuming any amount of char (contains cancer-causing compounds), but damn, there is nothing better than those crispy, black, flavor crystals. Now I know for next time. Grill best, NuWave second best.

In the last week, I’ve definitely been feeling a roller-coaster of emotions, triggered by our own aging and just having a lot of solo time to overthink life, work, friendships, everything. But one thing that made me feel better about myself was just this thought that I can actually cook now. I’m not a master chef like Bubs, but fuck man, I can consistently make several tasty dishes. And sure, sometimes I use shortcuts like ready-to-eat Costco salads and straight-pour pesto sauces, but heck, my shit is not just edible, it’s tasty. And it’s decent enough that I feel fine about feeding it to other people!! I’ve come a pretty long way, so I gave myself a pat on the back for my progress… and thank fucking goodness for the NuWave and pressure cooker. Life-changing, I tell ya.

Furniture Feud

Leave a reply

In other news, I am feuding with Crate & Barrel. In my classic firm and nice kind of way. 🙂 You see, five years ago, we bit the bullet and purchased the gorgeous, mid-century Petrie sofa. Considering our history with free, Craiglist, or Costco furniture, this was a big deal. The couch arrived and it was beautiful, BUT from the very beginning, the fucking buttons on the bottom cushions kept popping off. Mind you, Remy and Martin never got on the furniture. And we don’t have kids. And we hardly have guests compared to our old apartment in San Mateo. The buttons would sometimes catch on our jeans back pockets but other times, they would just pop off. The first time, I called and the store sent a furniture medic to repair. He came out. Fixed. The medic told me it happened all the time with those couches. It happened again, like within a month. I felt bad about calling (why?), so I waited until like 4 buttons came off, and we flipped the cushions. The second time, the store agreed to send another medic. Fixed. A month or two later, the buttons popped off again. Again, I felt bad and just waited. Now I have seven buttons that have popped off the dang thing. And I’m just annoyed. So I called the store and explained. Yes, I know it’s five years old. But this has been a recurring problem from the beginning when it was brand new. I admit, I got lazy about calling. But I want it fixed. Back and forth. They say this is their first time hearing about this issue with this couch, as if to imply that I am the only person. Puhleeze, your own repair dude told me it was a common issue!! They put me in touch with the medic company and said repair would be on my own dime. I contacted the medic plus other upholstery folks. Estimated $100-300 for repair. I then go online and several sites have commenters complaining about the damn buttons for the Petrie. Now I’m kinda pissed.

Last week, we decided to just get another couch– this time a sectional that is wider and without buttons. But I still want this old one fixed! So now I’ve ordered the new sectional (we’ve had good luck with CB2, even though they are a subsidiary of C&B), but I asked furniture customer service to reconsider repair on my Petrie. They advised that I call the C&B store again where I bought the Petrie. Today, the agent says she’ll discuss my case with the manager again and let me know tomorrow. Here’s the thing. Last time when I had to call Verizon about charging me for like 11 months of cell service that I never used (I thought my account had been closed), they kept bringing up why hadn’t I noticed the monthly charge on my card, and I kept beating myself up about it falling through the cracks. But then my friend G said: don’t let them shame you into thinking it’s your fault. Tmobile told you they canceled your number, and now Verizon is charging you full when they can see that you never used ANY of the service! I feel like C&B is trying to do something similar here. As if to suggest that I am being dishonest or whatever. It’s not easy to call and ask for something. And they certainly don’t make it easy. In all honesty, who wants to bother or trouble someone else? But I really do feel like this is a product flaw. Anyway, we’ll see what they suggest tomorrow and go from there. Frankly, I think they should offer giving me bottom cushions without buttons and be done with it. Fuck man, consumer advocate VG is not backing down!

On the Mend

Leave a reply

Mid February is a festive time of year, primarily bc of Chinese New Year, but also bc there’s Valentine’s Day (if you celebrate that made-up marketing holiday) and Presidents’ Day (= day off from work). Of course, as my luck would have it, February is also the one time of the year that my body likes to shut the fuck down. Waay down. Yup, my CNY party got canceled (again!), bc I returned from Long Beach and caught a cold. Admittedly, I am the world’s worst sick person: as soon as I feel one teensy bit better, I overdo it, and then my body revolts. So yeah, my Chinese New Year party got canceled (after I bought most of the ingredients for an extensive menu). I gave in and decided to give myself the long holiday weekend to recover. By Monday, I thought I was back on the up and up. Then, that evening I went to hip hop class 3. Since it was a holiday, none of the kids showed up, and it was just four adults with a new routine again (every two weeks!), and holy fuck there were a gabillion steps! We started with warm ups, and almost immediately, my head started feeling dizzy and light headed. I thought I was going to faint and/or throw up. And then, we started into the routine. This dude is too much into the sexy moves. I mean, I know hip hop has a lot of bumping and grinding, but why can’t we learn moves that are more non-sexual bboy/Missy Elliot style, you know? Whatever. So this new routine starts off with three body rolls and wtf, Robot Vix couldn’t even do those. Teacher was all like, “Think of sexy time with the hubby.” He is too much. And there must have been twice as many steps as our previous routines. I couldn’t even remember them all. Usually, after I get home, I write down key words to remind myself of the steps. You know, like butt sways, swivel, hip swirl, shake dice, etc. Nope. All gone. No frickin’ clue. Chock it up to being sick. One class left, and then if I ever learn hip hop again, it’s going to be online.

The next day, I was feeling sore from the one hour of dance. I know, I’m pathetic. Still, I was determined to be productive. The elfa closet installer arrived promptly at 8 am, and he worked until about 2 pm. While he was here, I got to working on the monster trash pile that had accumulated the last several months by the shed. There was all that demo waste from when Bubbey took down the shelving and paneling in the garage. Then, there was household junk, and since we had a few big storms, everything was soggy and sopping wet. It was disgusting. I had scheduled Wednesday for the city’s “On Call Plus” special curbside pickup service, and since I like to follow instructions, I had to remove a shit ton of nails from everything and then stack the shelving on the curb and bundle old drywall and panel pieces into bags. Bubbey had started already on some of the bagging but they were supposed to be < 50 lbs. Most were way heavier, esp since now they were wet. So I had to move crap around from old bags to new bags. Long story short, mucking around in all that junk triggered my allergies. Big. Time. I could NOT stop sneezing. I’m sure the closet installer was like, wtf is wrong with this lady? Needless to say, I got most of the junk cleared out. And I think I earned my stripes, bc the utility crew working on the house next door made some comment like, “You sure are working hard for a Tuesday!” Yeah dude, I am on a mission.

On Wednesday, I felt like shit again. This time, my body was even more sore and I was too exhausted to get out of bed. I stayed in bed until noon and then I went out to check on the junk, and it was all still there. I started getting worried that maybe they weren’t going to take it all. Maybe I didn’t get all the nails out or the stuff was supposed to be boxed instead of stacked? I went back to bed. By 3, I got up and thankfully, everything was gone: the 9′ tall wooden shelf, the screen door, the bags, the wood, the old cast iron grates, all of it! Yay. Now I think one more On Call Plus should do the trick and then, we are done!!

By evening, I was feeling better but starving. Bubbey’s been super busy with work, so I had a minor pity party about being sick and being left alone to die. Yeah, drama. queen. Then, I figured I needed to save myself. So that CNY duck got roasted up. Like I told my father many years ago, “I can put my own bread on the table.” Get it, girl. Duck came out amazeballs. And then I even did a killer job carving that bird up. Yeah!

 

Sleepless Nights

Leave a reply

So after losing three days (and counting) to sickness, I can’t sleep again. The mind is just overwhelmed right now. The recent good news? I learned two helpful tidbits yesterday from my side hustles. A few weeks ago, after upgrading our cable box to Xfinity X1 (same cost but better technology), our receiver suddenly stopped putting out sound. Mind you, we got this thing in 2012 and Bubbey didn’t know why it went kaput. I looked up the warranty and even with the Visa/Amex automatic extended warranty of 1 year, it was def beyond the coverage period. So Bubbey just bought a different one. The old one got relegated to the garage, and then this week, I finally shot a pic and posted it on Freecycle. Well as with most electronics, I got a ton of response. The next day, I set it outside labeled for the first person to come get it. Soon after, I received an email from someone else who said this is a known issue with Onkyo receivers from that period: Onkyo will fix the defect for free and extend the original warranty. I clicked on the link and sure enough, my model qualified. Had this Freecycler not informed me, how the hell was I supposed to know about this option? I’m usually pretty good about looking up warranties etc. And even after going to the Onkyo support page, there wasn’t any kind of obvious recall/factory callback. This person could have easily collected my receiver for free and then turned around and gotten it fixed for free, scoring himself a $450 receiver, so I was thankful and thrilled that s/he shared the knowledge. I dunno how this person might have stumbled on the info: perhaps s/he also had a faulty unit? I dunno, but yay!

The second thing I learned? I sold Bubbey’s electric shaver system with the auto-cleaning feature on EBay. I included the alcohol-based cleaning cartridge and got the package all ready for shipping until I realized that the cleaning solvent is flammable. I tried to figure out online what the volume limitations might be for shipping flammable liquids… No clear information. Finally, I had to go in person to the post office and even the clerks had to look up that shit. Confusing but I was pleased to learn that at that volume (5 oz) and in that packaging (a sealed plastic cartridge), I was good to proceed. Interestingly though, there are potentially restrictions on like perfume and aerosols and stuff. Who knew? I’m building my repertoire of shipping knowledge for more optimal EBay store operation in the future! Btw, I really need to up my shipping costs. I always just guesstimate a fixed cost, and I get screwed every. damn. time. Note to self: double the shipping from what I think it’ll be.

In other news, last night was probably one of the worst nights. I slept in my office bed, bc I didn’t want to get Bubbey sick. In the middle of the night, Marty typically goes in and out of his doggie door. At some point, I was awoken by a sudden thud. I thought maybe it was an intruder. I called out to Bubbey who was in the bedroom. I asked if he heard that and what was the noise. He barely uttered a reply. For some reason, I started getting a little freaked out… But seeing as Bubbey went back into a deep slumber, I ventured out alone into the living room. I looked around and didn’t see Marty. But something felt or seemed amiss. I then heard loud panting. Marty had collapsed by the doggie door, and he was lying in a pool of urine with drool around his head. WTF. His whole body was limp. I was speaking to him and kinda saying to Bubbey that something was wrong and that something happened. Bubbey still didn’t hear me. WTF, dude??? Wake up!! Jesus Christ.

Having seen something similar with Remy in her old age, I suspected that Marty had had a seizure and collapsed by the door. He was so tired. Earlier in the day, he had seemed especially lethargic, but I thought it was from his lack of sleep and arthritis in his back legs. Maybe those were signs? Bubbey finally came over and he lifted Marty up and put him in his bed. Oh man. The only other time he ever had a seizure was when we gave him the flea med without food. Old dogs, I tell you. Shit, I hope he isn’t going down the Remy path, bc she started getting seizures in her final months and then in the end, she was getting them like multiple times a day. Eventually, she lost strength in her legs. Fuck.

This morning, Marty was back to his old self again– wagging the tail and trying to barge through the front door. Maybe it was the new doggie treats? Maybe the non-chicken meat I gave him?  Maybe this is just the aging process. My poor baby. I put him up in my bed in the office today. He slept like a baby.

Getting Organized

Leave a reply

So I’m sick. And of course, I’m sick two days before my Chinese New Year party. Fucking A. I just realized this year that this getting sick business is a recurring pattern with me: invariably, I come down with something following some combination of travel, allergy attacks, and mental stress. My body is a fucking unreliable whimpy-ass mess.

That said, I should have known better. P has three cats… Two of her own plus one that she fosters. Typically, I pack my own sheets and what not. This time, I was trying to go all minimal. Mistake one. Then, I’ve been doing the saline rinses and have been off allergy meds for a long time. Well, I should have prepped in advance by going back on the meds, bc holy shit, I was sneezing repeatedly with eyes watering nonstop and my throat closing up. We ran out to get Allegra, plus she gave me a new bottle of nasal spray. Things got dramatically better, but shit. I’m sure it compromised my immunity. Couple that with many late sleepless nights… One night we went out on the town (I don’t think I’ve EVER really enjoyed the “see and be seen” thing no matter how much SATC makes it look fun.) The other nights we stayed in, but I was up late reading my book, doing my online course, etc. I know, I don’t know how to fucking re-lax. Meanwhile, when I did finally fall asleep, the cats went bonkers, running all over the apartment, with one meowing and wailing to no end. WTF is wrong? We didn’t know, and he didn’t appear to be in pain. I had a dream the second night, and it was somehow about me uncovering a sex trafficking ring. I woke up heart pounding and breathing hard. I don’t know why I dreamed that. I don’t think I was thinking about it… But it was super disturbing. And fuck man, that is reality.

My final night in LGB, we went over to her classmate’s Super Bowl party. That’s where I befriended Sadie, the gigantic Great Dane. I like P’s friends, but man, I really hate watching sporting events with people. Mainly, I can’t stand listening to the constant criticism. You know, like people getting mad at the players for making stupid plays or whatever. There’s name calling and then when the athletes cry or look visibly upset, people don’t even care. They say shit like, “Don’t you worry about him: he’s taking home a hefty paycheck.” I mean, totally true but hello, money isn’t the answer to everything. And I dunno. I admire people who care about their jobs and take their work seriously. They want to do well and when they don’t, it’s disappointing. Show some fucking compassion.  And the irony is, the people who are criticizing these athletes are the ones stuffing their faces without an ounce of discipline. Annoying.

Anyway, her classmate was showing me her leather studio where she designs belts, purses, festival harnesses/phone holsters, and key chains with her neighbor/craft partner, a young college lady whose mom buys all the supplies for them. Long story short, the neighbor’s mother has an entire crazy back story. Like seriously, straight out of the movies: former model in Miami, married a plastic surgeon, he experimented on her, fucked up her face so badly that he wouldn’t let her leave the house for fear of ruining his reputation, so he drugged her and kept her in hiding for YEARS!! I mean, for real. I Googled her story and was so so horrified after that. And then that triggered a whole new cascade of negative thinking about so many things: vanity, shame, abuse, resilience… Why are people so crazy and evil?

Meanwhile, I haven’t even been following politics lately but wth, Trump won NH?!?!?! The world is just too much. So instead of getting myself into a hysterical tizzy/vortex, I’m trying to redirect my anxiety around menial shit like getting organized. The garage has mostly come together. I still need to get rid of extra junk but between EBay, Freecycle, donations, and garbage, I am seeing some progress– slow and steady.

Yesterday, I almost posted Marty’s big crate for sale, but thankfully, I had the foresight to consider my post-Marty doggie and shit, I might need to crate train. Shrug. Then there’s all that demo waste still on the side of the house. I called a junk removal vendor, and the quote was kinda high. Incidentally, I discovered this week that the city gives you three “on call plus” pickups where they will haul your waste from your curb. Free. So of course, I’m now going to do that, but it just means I have to wait until next Wed and then schlep all that crap from the side of my house to the curb. Bags and bags of crap plus demo waste… Maybe I will use our wheelbarrow.

Inside the house, we are getting our closets redone next week, so that’s exciting but then you gotta clean everything out of there before the crew comes. More schlepping of stuff from one place to another and back. The tedium is almost enough to make me cancel the whole operation. Is this what people do?? I mean, same drill with carpet steaming right? People like move their furniture out and back. I must have a super low threshold for inconvenience. Oh well, suck it up for the closets. The installation is happening after Prez Day, so I’m ready for the more organized phase of “best life.” People say the physical clutter/disorganization contributes to the mental clutter and anxiety, so maybe this will help me not dream about sex trafficking and not hate people. 😛

Ok, my nose is running like a goddamn faucet. Time for a hot drink with honey and apple cider vinegar (trying something new) and a nap.