On Speed Dial

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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

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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

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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

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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.

Pool Time in Palm Springs

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I was in Palm Springs last weekend meeting up with my friend G, who flew in from Seattle. The trip was brief, but we had a good time, hitting the food scene, raiding the outlets, and soaking up the rays by the pool and at the hot springs. We used to chat fairly regularly via phone, but now those catch ups are harder to coordinate, so it was nice to have a couple days to get back up to speed. Unfortunately, it’s always a bit disappointing to hear other people with their stories of workplace drama and bullshit. I know people say dickwads are everywhere, but I guess I just never want to believe it. Annoying. Family-wise though, it sounds like things are going well: the baby is getting big and learning new skills. They are enjoying their house, planning to renovate the basement, and gearing up for some travel. I have to say, G+J have always been really good about hitting places they want to go without procrastinating. J and I are trying to do more of that this year, with the whole “best life” theme and all. As a side note though, I do think it helps when both people in the couple are planners. Not that I’m jabbing at Bubbey, but I’m just saying: he gets decision fatigue from work; likewise, sometimes I get fatigued from handling all the household and travel/trip logistics. In the end, it works out fine, but there are just some roadblocks every now and then that seem to slow us down.

G was asking me about my bucket list, which I used to maintain online with Schemer until the app went kaput. I actually managed to find another version/copy on my iphone notes. It’s definitely been helpful for us at least in terms of picking out our destinations, but thinking about my bucket list also reminds me that I need to go back to writing out my new year resolutions. I used to do it, but then I stopped for no real reason. Those resolutions def helped keep me on track for the year, even if some shit would get done in the last two weeks of December!

Back to the trip: Overall, I was happy with how the visit panned out. Before my flight into Ontario (much cheaper than PSP and only 70 min away!), the forecast had called for mostly wind and rain. But once we got in town, we lucked out with several hours of sunshine every day and really, it only started to rain heavily on our last day AFTER we were already done with the spa and hot springs and headed for the airport. Oh, at the hot springs spa, I got a deep tissue massage. Goddamn, I’ve had a lot of strong-handed masseuses, but this dude was way intense. Hurt like hell, and I think my wrists are bruised today. I did ask him to lighten up for the bottom half, but initially, you know me: I’m always wanting to test my threshold. The guy did say that my muscles were crazy tight. “What kind of crazy, stressful life are you living?” Um, I dunno. I’m not even working right now. WTF?! Whatever, chock it up as a physical manifestation of my insomnia and usual overthinking. Then again, he probably just says that to every client. I tried to call him on it, but he insists he was being honest. He did recommend that I exercise more regularly. Maybe he felt a lot of jiggly spots. 😛

I def recommend PSP for a quickie weekend destination. Short flight out of SJC, there’s the mid-century modern architecture (though we didn’t cover too much of that on this trip), outdoor options (Joshua Tree or Indian Canyon), hot springs and spas, outlets, and the food is pretty good. Sure, being in the middle of the desert with a gabillion golf courses sucking up crazy amounts of water feels rather strange and counter-intuitive, but shit, there is nothing like sunshine and pool time. And thankfully, the place we stayed was 1) child-free and 2) had 24-hr. pool and hot tub access. Seriously, I must have gone for a soak/dip 3 times in one day. Live it up while you can, baby. Although now that I think of it, our lives at home meet both of those requirements already. Well, no pool. 😉

Kobayashi

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Word on the street is The House of Prime Rib typically books out months in advance. Thankfully, I somehow managed to score reservations for the day AFTER Bubbey’s bday. We’d only gone once before and that was years ago… We went with our friends, and goddamn, it felt so fricking pricey. Now that we’re old folks though, I was looking at the menu (Of course, I researched the shit out of that too: did you know there’s a secret menu?!?), and the prices didn’t seem shocking at all. Chock it up to living in the Bay Area! All told, including drinks, about $60 pp. Not bad for super high end all-you-can-eat beef plus all the sides, right? Granted, earlier I was researching Michelin-starred places like Chez TJ in Mountain View and Manresa in Los Gatos. Fuck man, we’re talking several Benjamins per person!! Thankfully, Bubbey told me he’s not as into the uber swanky restaurants like he used to be. Haha, I say it’s bc his current company is a bunch of fresh PhD grads, so being surrounded by all those former students (with this being their first jobs out) brings down the standards. I was reminded of my grad school days when I was making furniture out of giveaway plastic milk crates and cardboard boxes (a medicine cabinet, an end table, and Remy’s perched doggie bed) from the Publix supermarket. Anyway, HOPR did not disappoint, and man, that place was packed!!! Bubbey was making fun of me bc all the Asian diners there were leaving with bags and bags of leftovers, so he said I was feeling pressured to “play my game.” I def ordered seconds and ate it. The waitress was impressed. Oh yeah lady, I can be a real Kobayashi when I want to be… I ate nearly every round, from the starting sourdough bread, to the dressing-drenched salad and the juice-soaked Yorkshire pudding (more bread), plus all my mashed potatoes and creamed spinach, and my whole plate of meat. And then I got another plate of the “end piece,” which I had learned from the secret menu. Tasty but surprisingly a little too dry for me (Next time I’d stick to the original English cut!). In the end, we only left with ONE bag of food– Bubbey’s baked potato. Yeah, I was kinda bummed not to maximize for some additional meals at home, but Bubbey gets his way on his bday. All in all, we had a great celebration week.

Big Bday

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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.

Letting Go

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The other day, I spent an hour or two crafting a job application for a senior project manager job. I had been following the firm for a few years: they are technical consultants to nonprofit organizations. Two years ago, I had come across some of their conference slides and blog posts, and the place just sounded like an amazing place to work. I reached out to two staffers and met them for info interviews. At the time, I knew that the core of their work was around Salesforce/Drupal. I had never held a position where I needed either of those skills, but I figured that moving towards Salesforce might be a good move for my future. I started doing training videos, etc. Even after I joined the university for the social media job, I attended the Salesforce conference on my own time and dime, and I occasionally took some online courses on Salesforce. After I crafted my application, I reached out to one of the info interviewee people, and then it hit me. As much as I think I want to work at this org and in this space, sometimes there simply is no way around the required time in the saddle. Taking video tutorials is NOT the same as using Salesforce at work. It was a sad but valuable realization, similar to one I had had months ago after I applied to the um-teenth corporate social responsibility and philanthropy job. I had been trying to learn things on my own on the side, but ultimately, when I got real feedback from the hiring manager, she said this: you have really robust skills and experience, but for this role, we have so many applicants with the exact skills who have been doing the exact role somewhere else. In other words, why would they take a risk and hire someone who would have to learn on the job when they could just plug/play a person with the exact background they are seeking?

So here’s my dilemma every time I pivot professionally: The job is X, and there are a ton of people with the precise skills of X. There’s no reason to have someone with Y skills learn X skills on the job. I feel like my skills match well for the intersection of tech and nonprofit and consulting. And I have worked in that space before. But managing tech features/projects for a scrappy nonprofit or a slow-moving government agency is different from working at a place that has the latest/newest platforms and that employs people who are certified in project management.

Today I feel tired and discouraged. Is this a repeat of my generalist vs. specialist problem? At some point, when do you throw in the towel? You think you belong in a certain space, but that space doesn’t think you belong. How long do you try to fill the gaps to gain approval and acceptance ? And when do you stop and say, maybe I can’t help in this specific capacity. Maybe I can help as a donor, but not as an employee. I’m not the person they are seeking. And maybe I have never quite been that person, bc I am an eternal misfit after all. Sigh.

I reached out yesterday to an acquaintance who’s a realtor (former tech company employee). I asked her about recommended places to take the required courses for the sales license. She got back to me suggesting an online outfit that actually has a rolling schedule. No school semester schedule with registration or add/drop periods! Granted, real estate has popped into my mind many times in the past, and given how many related tasks I’ve had to handle for my father throughout the years, this isn’t a total stretch. There are aspects that appeal to me: the independence, the different schedule, the various business elements, the balance of people/solo time, the potential for growth… Maybe now is the time to stop trying so hard to fit my square peg into a round hole. Maybe this path will lead to something satisfying and fulfilling. The timeline can be as fast as a couple months (the barrier to entry is low, as Bubbey says) and then I might know with clarity…

Seeing Us in Them

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I dunno about you, but I often see myself in other people. Sure, the other people might be celebrities on tv or characters in a fictional movie/play, but that’s beside the point. While John was in NYC last week, I indulged in a ton of Fixer Upper. Like most shows, FU follows a formula and the project design aesthetic (modern farmhouse) is pretty the same from episode to episode… Still, I love the show: every house still turns out amaze-balls, and despite J and I’s obvious differences from the Gaines (CA vs. TX; no kids vs. 4 kids; tech vs. creative/handy), I see so much of us in them. First, let’s just put it out there: You gotta love the “peaches and cream” element. Hurray for mixed-race couples! But it also cracks me up when Joanna is trying to be all business and serious, and then Chip stands next to her and goofs off. Even the way he behaves kinda reminds me of Bubs. I was thinking today about the person I was 20 years ago: holy shit, super straight arrow and tight. ass. Very rigid, unforgiving, self-righteous, and hyper judgmental. I mean, I had good qualities in there, but there was a lot of attitude. But Bubbey, man. He always had a way of making me chill the fuck out and crack a smile. On so many occasions, he de-escalated a hysterical, raging mad, pissed off VG (triggered by family, of course). The power of his magic, I tell ya.

So yeah, in one of the last episodes, Joanna was talking to the camera and Chip was standing next to her doing this bumping and grinding motion. Even when she sometimes get annoyed with him, he’ll just do something to make her laugh. So in this episode, he got up next to her and started pumping his hands in the air. No joke, Bubbey has pulled shit like that! I also love how Chip and Joanna are a team. I mean, J and I have never worked together professionally (He says he’s an asshole at the office, but I don’t believe him), but I feel like we complement each other pretty well, similar to Chip and Joanna. It’s this idea that we all have our strengths and weaknesses… and sometimes two people mesh and things click. Ok sorry, not trying to ooze with sap here.

On the flip side, I can also really get into relationship movies. I remember how much I loved The Breakup and The Story of Us. I once told a couple friend that The Breakup was one of my favorite movies, and the dude totally disagreed, saying how much he hated it. He hated how they treated each other and hated the ending, but I felt like the relationship was so real and the ending was even more realistic, without the typical Hollywood fluff ending. When Bubs and I weren’t jiving years ago, we entered such a bad zone. The blame, the resentment, the frustration and miscommunication, the unspoken words, the expectations, the misinterpretations… it is a royal fucking mess. But I learned so much about love and respect and ultimately about not having to be right all the damn time. That last bit is still hard for me, but sometimes Bubbey just gets to have the last word.

I don’t know that there is a point to all this rambling. I guess I’ve just been thinking about relationships lately, maybe with all the celeb breakups and that irksome show The Bachelor. One thing is for sure: if you’re a celeb couple, don’t be hiring any young, hot nannies. As qualified and competent as they may be, the dudes just cannot seem to keep their junk in the goddamn trunk. Seriously. Jude Law, David Beckham, Gavin Rossdale, Ben Affleck, the list goes on. Theoretically, I don’t think any of that should matter: kinda like rape. No matter what the hell a woman is wearing, if she doesn’t consent, it’s rape. By a similar token, no matter who is around you, you’re married. Back the fuck off. Sigh. If only people kept things that black and white.

Raunch Overload

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So there’s been a common theme with me lately… everywhere I turn, I’m faced with major raunch. Is this how the world has always worked and I’m only seeing it now, or maybe it really is just me? First, dance class continues to be ridiculous. Tonight was my very last class, and I’m kind of relieved to be honest. Surprisingly, I kept up with the routine today, but man, teach is just too much for me. For reals. The final step was basically this move where my weight is on the right foot and the left knee is bent with the left foot pointed on the ground and then there are five hip thrusts with the feet staying in place. I had some trouble getting this movement down (I basically just kept bending my right knee), so I asked him to go over it again. Big. mistake. Holy fuck. He lifts that left leg up as if it’s on an imaginary chair and then again, he says, “You know, imagine you and hubby are going at it and uh, uh, uh, yeah, get in there deep!” WHAAAATTTT??? OMG. I was so embarrassed. I don’t even know how to respond other than to make a nervous laugh, shake my head, and cover my eyes. Holy crap. Are gay dudes really this sex obsessed???

Then yesterday, K and I went to a relationship play. It’s been forever since I got my theater on, so I was really stoked about catching this production at a small black box theater in San Jose. The play was Closer, based on that movie from a few years back starring Jude Law, Clive Owen, Natalie Portman, and Julia Roberts. In retrospect, it was a fucked up movie with a lot of mind games and dysfunction. Somehow I just got caught up with all the good reviews and I dunno, I also forgot that the Clive Owen character was a sex/porn addict. Needless to say, we’re in this small theater with like 20 other people (mostly bluehairs– typical), and suddenly a scene begins showing an online chat dialog on the projection screen. It’s a chat convo for a sex forum. OMFG. The language. The raunch!! The c word, the p word, everything crass and more! And then there’s this old couple in the row in front of ours where the woman can’t read the text on the screen, so her hubby starts reading her the lines. Holy. shit. I about died. The thing is, I’ve found so many damn winners through Goldstar, but every single time K and I do a Goldstar activity, it’s a fucking dud. Argh, what a fail!

Meanwhile on the homefront, Bubs is in NYC this week for work, which means I have full control of the tv. Holy crap, there is a ton of shit on the airwaves. Of course, I enjoyed KUWTK. I don’t watch the Kardashians consistently, but when I do, I enjoy it. I know they have a lot of haters, but I dunno: there’s something curious/intriguing about their tight family and about all their moguling. I mean, they have their brand EVERYWHERE. They can’t be total bimbos to amplify that shit all over the damn place. Plus, it’s one show that doesn’t get me all stressed out. 

In addition to the Kdashes, I recently discovered there is a Real Housewives of Potomac. I only watched the Atlanta one ocassionally a few years back ,but I was curious about this one since well, I’m from Maryland. Oddly enough, I learned yesterday that the cast is predominantly black, which is def not how I picture the demographic of Potomac, where Bub’s oldest sister lives…

Tonight, I came home and the tv was already tuned to the Bachelor. I have to say, I have not watched a single episode of this show, bc the premise just makes me so fucking angry. Apparently, in tonight’s episode, he’s like meeting the families of the four remaining women. Are these women for real? I mean, how can you keep insisting that your connection with the dude is so authentic and that it’s “real love” when you KNOW he is multi-timing you!! I mean, it’s so standard that the guy hooks up with like every single chick on the show from the beginning!!! Ugh. This show disgusts me. And then when the parents are like talking to him and asking him questions, he never even gives specific, genuine answers. Like “Why are you interested in my daughter? How is she different from the other ladies?” And he just gives generic answers, like “From the moment I met her, I just felt a connection.” Puhlease. 

Wow, holy crap. With the last family, the two brothers just grilled him hard!! But then the parents were all empathetic, saying the bachelor is in a tough spot. Really? You’re going to feel bad for a dude who plays 20 women at the same time??? OMG. Why do people do this show? WTF??? Of course, I will watch this episode to the end bc I have to give it a full review. Haha. Btw, how can these women say that he has all the qualities that they want? Is one of those qualities being a player?? Every single one of the four women says she’s in love with him… after TWO single dates and a few group dates. Fucking tards. Married at First Sight is so much better than this crap. Off to bed early to clear my mind of all this raunch. Tomorrow’s a new fresh day, I hope. Clean slate.