Family: Different Things to Different People

So my friend B invited me over for her son’s 2nd bday party. J and I don’t go to very many kiddie bday parties (like never), mostly bc up until this last year, our closest friends were child-free like us. B was very sweet: she expressed some hesitation about inviting kid-free people to her baby’s bday party, but I said I was happy to go every now and then. I mean, it’s worth a try, dipping the feet into the pool occasionally. Plus, it’s only for a few hours… can’t be that bad. So Sunday came along. J managed expectations from the get go and declined, so that was fine: I went solo. But the last time I was invited by this friend’s place for a party, it was uber swank. She’s Afghan, and I dunno what it is, but I find that some cultures, like Afghan and Persian cultures really glam things up. When I went to her baby shower about seven years ago, I showed up very punctually, wearing casual clothes, i.e. dark jeans. Holy crap, the Afghans run super late, and OMG, I was not only like one of two non-Afghans there, but I felt like I was at a party with the Kardashians… everyone was uber polished and fancy. Yup, it gave me the ugly duckling complex, so this time, I made sure to put in more effort. I wore a dress, and I also arrived 45 minutes after the stated time. As it turned out, I was STILL on the early side, and I think I was the only non-family member there, which was kinda intimidating but everyone was also very welcoming. I met her parents, mom-in-law, brothers, sis-in-law, etc. I’d met all of them at the shower years ago, and man, the moms are so put together also!! Just, classy. I dunno how else to describe it. A lot of times, I feel like my family wears big, baggy, ill-fitted stuff. It’s not that their clothes are cheap, but their outfits rarely fit. But B’s family? Very well-dressed. I had originally anticipated 2 hours, but well, I ended up hanging out for four hours. I had fun catching up with B and her hubby K, with whom I used to work. Of course, their two boys plus two of the boys’ cousins were there, so I had to work especially hard focusing on the adult conversation while the kids were bouncing around on a trampoline and generally going bonkers. Holy crap. There was screaming and crying and then so-and-so hit the other kid. Then shit got unplugged, and wires were tangled. I dunno. It was a fucking zoo. I seriously do NOT know how people handle kids, much less MULTIPLE kids in the same household. Mind blowing for reals.

The interesting thing about all of this though was just that family was clearly so important. The mom-in-law had flown in from the midwest for the bday party. I observed K standing behind his mom with his hands around her neck. Affection, laughter, celebration. The total opposite of time I spend with my family. Maybe I’m comparing their best with my worst, or whatever that comparison game line is. The thing is though, my best is neutral: it’s just times when there’s no disappointment or criticism or sadness. It’s just getting shit done and doing practical things. I guess that’s what happens when you isolate yourself. You lose the skills of communication and connection. As a practicing physician, my father had excellent bedside manner. His patients and colleagues loved him, but I don’t think he really ever learned how to connect with people on a deep, friendship level. Being useful and helpful and full of advice? Excellent. But just cutting loose and hanging out? Never. Completely foreign. I’m sure growing up in this environment of chronic distance and lack of connection is partly what makes me so desensitized to social awkwardness. I mean, hello, welcome to my family. Welcome to every single homecoming, phone call, family gathering. It’s pretty sad, and yet, what can be done. I can only learn from this and apply my knowledge going forward, bc in my family, some things will just never change.

When I was on the phone with my father yesterday, he asked about my job. He asked if I liked my coworkers. I said I was good friends with one person, and the others were fine. I got along with everybody. Then, he started warning me that sometimes people come across nice but then they backstab and sabotage you. I mean, look: I know my father faced racial discrimination. I know he’s seen the bad side of people, especially when, for a period, his office staff had trouble getting along. I’m sure he saw all those awful things that come along with dysfunction. But at the same time, I’m 39. I have my own lifetime of experience, and no matter how fucked up any of my past workplaces have been, I have NEVER had an issue with people. Overall, my work speaks for itself, and I pretty much get along with everybody. Some people frustrate me, but it never gets to the point of deliberate ill-will and malice. Anyway, his whole point going down that path was just another example of the habit of paranoia and fear-based thinking: everyone is out to get you. When I was in school, my parents always insisted that my friends who were doing well were out to topple me from being at the head of the class: Don’t share any secrets, blah, blah, blah. I mean, is it any real surprise that they have no friends?? I just tried my best to nip this convo in the bud by saying “I don’t have that problem.”

I suppose all of this really boils down to a fundamental difference in philosophy. My parents feel that honesty and truth is overexposing and risky, that vulnerability is a weakness. But after years of damaging myself with inadequacies striving for perfectionist ideals, I find that vulnerability is a truth, and while I value strength and resilience and the desire/effort to improve, I also try to minimize feeling shame about all my flaws and foibles. Maybe in some odd way, I feel that my (radical) honesty is what’s unique to me. That’s what I offer to others. And oddly enough, that’s what my parents have always instructed me to hide.

Managing Sadness

Holy shit, another week is over already. It’s Ramadan, Father’s Day, and Summer Solstice. Yup, I only keep up with those holidays bc well, I’m still saving lives with social media and all. Haha.

Last week was mostly good for Marty. J made him chicken soup and with the daily sub-cutaneous fluids therapy, his appetite started coming back. Mind you, he’s still been picky as fuck, but at least he was ingesting stuff. Because of his progress, we decided to skip ONE day (Wednesday) with the fluids. OMFG, I thought he was going to die the next day. On Thursday, he was so lethargic, he barely even got up. By evening, J and I started panicking and I had another cryfest meltdown. We immediately resumed the fluids, and thankfully, the next day (Friday), things began looking up again. I was still feeling really sad though, just wondering about the fluids management and stressing about J being away for his cross-country trip. Goddamn that catastrophic thinking; it’s enough to KILL me. On Friday late morning, my boss came into my office to tell me about some new data visualization software. I had been crying. Thirty seconds in, with her blurting out a bunch of stuff, she stopped to ask, “Is everything ok? What’s wrong?” And just like that, I lost it again. Fucking emotions, man. Fortunately, she was very kind. Later, J sent me a pic of Marty mid-day and he looked so much better, so I felt better. I swear I need to gain some frickin’ emotional stability.

I was so glad for this weekend. I caught up on some sleep and pulled myself together a little. J made a new batch of food for Marty; we also went to the vet to get more fluids supplies plus some appetite stimulant meds N recommended. I also purchased some additional brands of dry and wet kidney diet foods. I swear, I feel so stressed when Marty doesn’t eat. He’s always been super food driven, so to see him have zero interest or to see him just spit everything out all over the floor is exasperating. But yesterday, we started with the new drug and holy crap, I haven’t seen him eat like this in forever. He even chowed down on the new kidney food. I dunno. I’m relieved that the drug is getting him to eat again, but I’m still wary about overworking his system and kidneys with TOO much food. It’s a weird balance with way more trial and error than I’m used to.

Yesterday, Bubbey and I tried to do something “fun” for the weekend. We went to see Inside Out. Pixar is always brilliant. I really identified with the Sadness character. But I also was reminded of just how dangerous sadness can be. It has the power to negate and erode all good memories. It’s like a fucking contagion.

This morning, I called my father for Father’s Day. Ho hum, woe is I, blah, blah, sigh, sigh. It’s exhausting. My whole family: they don’t do anything; just stay at home and watch tv. I mean, my father stays somewhat busy managing his properties and dealing with tenant demands and chores and errands (he even tries to do minor handyman shit himself), but Jesus Christ: no fucking joy. His life is joyless. I really don’t know what to do. It takes all the energy in the world NOT to blow up at him and just say, “Do SOMEthing.” Stop being depressed. Stop thinking about ALL the things in your life that disappoint you. For fuck’s sake, save yourself. That’s what I feel and think, but that’s NOT what I say bc well, depression is some real shit. And not everyone responds to that whole “Pull yourself up by the bootstraps” kind of messaging. But goddamn, that’s what I want to say to so many people around me, including myself. Save yourself, people. Please.

In other news, I’m developing a monster boil on my chin. Maybe I’ll just give myself zinc poisoning again with all this desperation. On the bright side, Martin IS eating again. This appetite stimulant mirtazapine is some crazy ass shit. We’re taking a super small dosage too, like 8 mg, and he is eating like a football player. Sigh. Focus on the good. Focus on the things I can change.

sadness

Birthday Bash + Marty Update

So I neglected to mention my bday party last weekend. Too much going on these days. We had a good time: I changed up the guest list a bit due to limited space on the Houseboat. As usual, J and I were up super early cleaning and getting the smoker going, so by the time the party started at 4p, we were kinda already pooped. I know, we never learn. Still, we had a blast. I had a big contingent from my last workplace and then a dabbling of reps from the fuel cell startup and my current gig. Yes, I like to throw my buds into a big mix and see what comes. Haha. I think it works out fine; I never really ask them, bc frankly, I wouldn’t change the lineup anyway. That’s right: unapologetic, as usual. Hee hee.

My friend J, she’s about my dad’s age. She was so sorry that I was throwing my own bday party… even down to buying my own cake! She’s funny. On one hand, the modest Chinese in me does feel like, “Wow, you’re going to celebrate yourself?? Aren’t other people supposed to celebrate you?” On the other hand, I know that parties are a ton of work and well, I’m an ESTJ after all. If I want shit to happen, I pretty much gotta do it myself. Shrug. I have to say though, it was super helpful having my friend K attend. She has a master’s degree in counseling, so home girl is all up on Myers-Briggs and the love languages and psychological “conditions”, etc. In other words, she’s super keyed in. First time aboard the Houseboat, and she stayed late to wash dishes after everyone else went home. It was totally unnecessary, but at the same time, really thoughtful. A huge help. Fuck man, we had so many dirty dishes. So much so that J thinks we ought to consider disposable plates next time, esp since CA is in a drought and all. We’ll see.

Overall, the bash had a little bit of everything. Some people came early to watch the Belmont Stakes. We witnessed the first Triple Crown winner since Secretariat in the 1970s!! Later, we hung out, chatted, played a little bit of Jenga, and we even busted out the karaoke system. My bad: apparently, I was logged into my “work” YouTube account on this new phone, so I didn’t have my ktv playlist. So yes, my poor guests were subjected to “Unbreak My Heart” and then like three “do over” versions of “Kiss Me” bc I couldn’t find the right file. Haha. Unapologetic, again. Of course, later on K and her beau showed us all up with some rap song by NWA (I only remember this group, bc I think of Northwest Airlines). Anyway, they were damn good and frickin’ spot on with the beats and rhythm. Sigh. Rhythm is THE fucking bane of my existence. The good news though? I think I found some new KTV fans.

What else. On the actual day of my bday (Monday), I went to work bc well, wtf else am I gonna do? J drove down for lunch, and we tried a new pizza spot by Avaya Stadium. Then, he took me to the Rose Garden in SJ. Beautiful spot despite the heat wave that day. Good for me, but bad for him. For dinner, I left work early bc we had fucking old people reservations at 5p. Great meal, then back home for leftover ice cream cake. Yup, living it up while I can!

The rest of the week was pretty up and down. My buds took me out to dinner and a play (Urinetown) on Wednesday night. The play was so different than any other: a bit over the top with the narrator frequently talking to the audience. It was a long day and late night, but well worth it. Beyond that, Marty’s condition is still really touch and go. He had a few days where he looked really bad, so there was another trip to the vet, changes in medication, and back and forth phone tag. He’s now in Stage 3 of 4 for chronic kidney disease. We ordered some lactated ringer bags (sugar water + electrolytes) to start administering subcutaneous fluids at home. The whole ordeal is super stressful, handling the logistics of home care, getting Marty to eat/drink (cooking and prepping a bunch of different foods), tracking all the meds and symptoms, plus of course, mentally preparing for end of life stuff. Bottom line: it’s hard to have a good day when Martin isn’t doing well. Our latest plan is to give him fluids daily (instead of every few days) and see if that improves his appetite. Until now, his appetite and lethargy have been frustrating. With the fluids, J cannot handle needles so I poke and he holds Marty still. The tricky thing with kidney disease is that the kidneys remove toxins from the body. We’ve had Marty on a low protein, low sodium canned food diet since fall, when we first learned of his renal failure, but with this latest bout, he just WILL NOT EAT much or anything at all. And bc his weight is already trim, he can’t exactly afford to have him skipping meals. And he’s so finicky now, he won’t eat the special kidney diet food, so we’re trying to weigh feeding him foods he’ll eat (right now: chicken, beef, cheese) knowing that those foods are also high in protein and hard for his body to process. I’m hoping he’ll show some consistent improvement this week. Fingers crossed.

Desperate Times, Desperate Measures

I’ve always been pretty straight up about my life of privilege. Life has blessed me in so many ways. Still, there are times when I feel overcome with desperation. Desperation is a weird emotion: I’m generally a very logical and practical person, but every now and then, emotion overtakes my good sense and I find myself wanting to believe what I want to believe. After John and I returned from our wonderful getaway last weekend in Santa Barbara, Martin started acting a little off. For the last six months, Marty’s issue-free living somehow fooled me in to thinking I no longer needed to worry about him. Wrong. The day we got back to town, he drank some puddle water at the park (he never does this), and the next morning, he had no appetite. His tummy started gurgling like crazy. Maybe he ate something? We gave him some Pepcid, and by evening, he was eating again. But the rest of the week, things were very touch and go: one day lethargic with low appetite; the next day seemingly better. By Thursday, we figured another vet visit was in order. Back to the drill: blood draw, urine draw, meds, pokes, etc. We gave him sub-q fluids plus anti-nausea and IV Pepcid. The blood work once again showed elevated creatine and BUN levels, indicative of dogs with chronic kidney disease. After I got home, I started researching kidney disease again. The thing is, we’ve known about his kidney disease since last fall, and yet, when he’s well, my mind just conveniently forgets that his kidneys are FAILING over time. It’s as if my brain deliberately denies the inevitable.

A few days ago, I came across a website with some homeopathic treatment plans for dogs with kidney disease. There were various recipes for the homemade raw food diet, plus anti-nausea foods, plus a kit of supplements and powders. I read the testimonials, and just like that I was ready to blow like $150 on the kit. I mentioned this to John, and he said we should try the diet first, but he cautioned that the testimonials might be fake, considering they are posted on the product’s website. And then it hit me: I know better. I know about online scams. I know how easy it is to post fake reviews and fake testimonials. And yet, I was so stressed and desperate to find SOMETHING or ANYTHING to heal Marty, that all my logic and common sense went out the window. Yesterday, I revisited that site and then decided to check some external forums. No one seemed convinced that the kit worked; at best, they just said it didn’t hurt. Some people said they emailed the owner and never received replies. Then I read a post about kidney disease: the organs don’t regenerate: they are on a one-way, irreversible decline. And then I just started to cry. I thought about my friend Chuck, who passed away two years ago from colon cancer. When he was first diagnosed with Stage IV, I remember how his wife researched all these things online about a juice diet or this and that to make the cancer go away. There’s hope and optimism, and then there’s denial. Here I am angry at my mother for so foolishly thinking that her parents will ever live independently again. And just a few weeks later, I’m on some website researching diets and ingredients to miraculously CURE Martin of kidney failure. The mind wants to believe what it wants to believe.

Yesterday morning, Martin ate like a champ. Today, all day he was lethargic and refusing to eat or drink. My mind started going down that all-too-familiar path of catastrophic thinking: what if he doesn’t eat; how can I give him the antibiotics if he won’t eat/drink; what exactly happens when a dog has full blown kidney failure? In the afternoon, J and I went to the movies in hopes breaking my cycle of worry. We went to see Entourage. At first, I was going to just go and watch in my sweat pants without any makeup on. Yes, I was that bummed about Marty. I didn’t even have the energy to be “presentable” when leaving the house. Then, I thought of Stacy Clinton and all her What Not to Wear wisdom (NEVER leave the house in workout clothes unless you are actually going to the gym). I knew too that I would be watching Emmanuelle Chriqui (Sloan) in the movie, and fuck, I cannot watch THE hottest woman on Earth while looking like a total schlump. Not that I’m trying to compete with her, but shit, looking good takes effort, and today just was not the day to wallow in self pity. So I actually changed and did my makeup and shit… all to watch the movie in a dark theater. Fucking mental games with myself. Anyway, after the movie (decent but predictable), we went back home and Martin was the same: seemingly weaker and disoriented. I started freaking out. I called the vet for more info.

So we went back to the vet this evening to pick up a bag of fluid and some IV meds. The tech gave us a demo, and we’re going to try administering fluids for Marty at home. In the waiting room, we saw an old yellow labbie. Her owner had her in a special lifting harness, bc her back end had zero strength. I was reminded of Remy: I’d purchased a very similar harness for when she had started to lose mobility. I wondered how much longer the lab would be around. Putting Remy down was truly one of the saddest days of my life. I still lose my shit when I think about how hard it was to say goodbye. She had bounced back from the edge so many damn times that it became hard for me to realize that one day she wouldn’t bounce back. So just like I tell my mother that my grandparents are in their 90s, I now tell myself that Martin is 15. Like my grandfather, he might be unusually strong and healthy, especially for his age. But in the end, immortality is a fantasy. And so we move forward keeping reality in check. Hopefully, the electrolytes will make Marty feel better, and they’ll bring back his appetite, but ultimately, he IS 15.

Of course, ten minutes before we headed out for the vet appointment, Martin started eating the bowl of chicken and rice and drinking his water. Keep plugging, Marty man!

New Programs for June

J and I took a road trip to Santa Barbara last weekend. I actually took Friday off, and it was kinda weird: even though I could feel myself creeping closer and closer to the edge, the three days away somehow quantified just how much I’d let myself stray beyond my “happy” zone. The thing is, all this time, logically, my challenges were pretty straightforward. I already knew what the answer was… or at least, what part of the answer was. Still, for whatever reason, bridging that gap from knowing to doing is just not always easy.

I don’t like to use the word “depressed,” bc I know it’s a medical term that can apply to very extreme cases of mental illness. I don’t want to discredit/dismiss people who suffer from severe depression and who really require external assistance. I know that in many cases, combating depression is not just something people can WILL to change. That said, my recent funk had been going on for some time, where I frequently felt exhausted, lethargic, irritable, and unusually indifferent. I was also having more stressful dreams… I considered going back to therapy.

The weekend getaway helped me refocus on Bubbey and Marty. I mean, I don’t think it’s any real surprise that exercising (especially when you’re out of shape) forces the brain to stop the overthinking and get back to basics. We hiked at Carpinteria State Beach Park and the next day, we rented bikes in Solvang. OMFG, all the huffing and puffing after just a few short minutes really proved to me that fuck, I need to get my shit together!!! Part of me is mad for letting myself get so fucking out of whack. I mean, hell, this ain’t my first rodeo, you know??? I really should know better. But I suppose there’s little point in crying over what’s already done. I have to move forward and make changes to my life. Now.

So today is June 1 . My birthday is a week away, and reflecting on all the people and experiences I have had until now, I want to apply some lessons I have learned. I want to live and act consistently with my values. I know, so many vague hippie dippy words. What does all this mean?

1. Set stronger boundaries with work. I have struggled all my life with drawing this line. It’s complicated but obviously, these habits are tied to how I equate achievements with success and how I identify myself through work. I did minimal work while I was in Santa Barbara. I’ve started carpooling with a coworker in hopes of setting more stringent start/end times to my work day. I am also trying to exercise at lunch. The activity doesn’t have to be intense, but I HAVE to leave my desk and go outside.

2. Exercise. Yes, activity makes all the difference. I’ve witnessed the positive results before with myself (Hello, Fitbit!!), with John, and with Marty. It’s a no brainer. Tracy Andersen arms are coming soon. 🙂

3. Network. Eight months after pulling out of the job market, I can already feel my anti-social tendencies creeping back in. The thing is, I need to continue attending events, not only to keep my hard-earned networking/social skills sharp, but also to find new sources of inspiration. On Wednesday, I’m going to a Lean-In circle meeting in Palo Alto. The topic is social entrepreneurship.

4. Write. This blog is as much for you (ha!) as it is for me. 🙂 Getting some of my thoughts down in writing somehow clears the mental clutter and makes room for more productive and creative thoughts.

I have other things that I’m working on, but four is good for now. Pics below from our weekend getaway.[FAG id=7439]

Peruvian Posse in NorCal

I’d been in a funk lately. For me, the telltale signs are mostly related to my inactivity: I stop doing all my hobbies, so no exercising, no craft clubs, no wool felting, no ktv, no ukulele, and no planning. For Memorial Day weekend, my buddy P and her clan from Peru (as well as her new beau) were traveling to the Bay Area. For a few weeks beforehand, she’d been trying to see if J and I would be in town, but the most I was willing to commit to was that they were welcome to stay at our house, but we weren’t sure if we were going to head out of town on a way overdue QT trip or what. Well finally, the week of, I confirmed that indeed we were sticking around. Normally, I’d be super excited and enthusiastic. After all, I’d met her sister a few years back, and we also traveled together in NYC. This time around, her sis now has a cute baby girl in tow, and this trip would also be my first time meeting P’s new man C… but I just wasn’t feeling my usual level of energy and anticipation. And the last time P and I were together, we had put Remy down during her visit. Yes, I was def due to for a new, happier last memory.

So yeah, I didn’t plan a damn thing for their arrival and stay. But you know what? It all worked out just fine. I mean, the weekend was packed, and the Houseboat was definitely at max capacity (five adult guests + an 18-month old) with seven adults total, a dog, and a baby. But the most important thing is that we had a great time! And turns out, the time with friends, some traveling, some wine, and beautiful destinations helped get me out of my head a little. We didn’t have much private time to catch up, but I was glad to see P happy. Her beau is handsome, attentive, considerate, and reliable. I’m comforted knowing that she’s with someone who seems like a good, caring person.

Other observations: the crew arrived Friday night. Immediately, I noticed the very different cultural differences re: family interactions. Whenever I visit with my family, things are super low-key, serious, quiet, and mellow. OMG, the Peruvians are hyper, chatty, and uber animated! First, P was doting over the baby like crazy. Baby M is very cute but still. P was gushing all over her, speaking to her a million miles a minute in Spanish. Then, P and her sister are so sweet together. I mean, clearly very close. The total opposite of me and Johnny. Families can be so different.

On Saturday, the clan headed up to SF for Alcatraz and Fisherman’s Wharf. J and I stayed home. I don’t know what we did. Just hung around and took Marty to the park I think. At night, the group returned for dinner. We BBQed, and her beau’s friends came over from Sunnyvale. That all went pretty well except that after midnight, most everyone seemed beat and ready for bed, but the guests would NOT leave. I mean, we had people rolling out the foam mattress in the living room and someone else was falling asleep on the couch, and still, the guests didn’t get the hint. Very odd.

Finally, on Sunday, we all headed up to Napa. Damn, that place is expensive, but shit, so freaking beautiful. Another fun day: we hit up some wineries I’d never visited before… on the advice of P’s friend who used to live in Napa. Nice finds, and I’m going to remember them for my next batch of out-of-towners. Another very long day, where we got home after dark. Then another friend of theirs came over and stayed awhile. J and I retired to the bedroom to rest, and then we zonked out. Man, all that social interaction and traveling is exhausting for introverts like us!

On Monday, we hit up Sausalito. We had some BBQd oysters from Fish, right along the water. Pretty tasty. Yeah, we did a lot that weekend. But now we need a vacation from the holiday weekend.[FAG id=7437]

Doggie Daycare

Last Saturday, I received a text message from my realtor friend. D and I were in close contact five years ago when we bought our house, but since then, she herself moved, had two kids, adopted a dog, and got preggers with her third child. After she had her two boys, we kinda just fell out of touch. As I mentioned in an earlier post, she frequently hosted big parties and sometimes invited me over for family/kiddie time, but it just didn’t feel like the right “season” for our friendship. Whatever.

So her text last week basically told me she was due the next day with her third child, and her dog sitter had bailed due to a medical issue in her family. Could I take her 85-lb, 3 y/o lab for a week or two while she gave birth and had time to bond with the family? First of all, to be honest, I have a slight bad taste in my mouth bc in the three years that they have had the dog, they have tried at least twice to give him away. Annoying. I mean, everyone knows labs are a crazy amount of work. Sure, there’s the whole glorified Old Yeller scenario: how cute would it be to have a puppy and my child grow up together, blah, blah, blah. Yeah, maybe I feel like them adopting him in the first place was a bit irresponsible. Like, have a better understanding of what you’re getting yourself into regarding parenting (multiple kids) and pet adoption. But whatever. Not everything can be fully anticipated. That’s life. So long story short, I replied that John just returned (two days prior) from a month away dealing with elder care issues, and we were already dogsitting his sister’s dog. We could possibly do Wednesday after that dog went home and then see. I had a dog sitter recommendation for her, but minutes later, I felt like that wasn’t a viable option due to my sitter having three dogs of her own plus living in a 500 sf apartment.

So for some illogical, emotional reason, I thought back to last fall when Martin was having all his kidney and bladder issues, and I had to ask like ten people about dog sitting for our trip to Taiwan. It was so stressful worrying about finding him a place. So I said to D that we could have the three dogs meet that afternoon and then see. So they came over, the non-Martin dogs were a bit growly. We all walked over to the park to get them acclimated, and the lab was HYPERSPAZ. Panting so loudly I couldn’t even hear the conversation, and just super energetic. Like thinking back to Remy and Martin’s younger years, I can’t even remember seeing a dog with so much energy and strength. Thirty minutes later, despite realizing that he’s going to be a ton of work, J and I agreed to take him. Then they schlepped in all his shit: a huge bag of dog food, a monster tote of supplies and toys, and then a 4 x 2 crate (formerly Martin’s airline crate). All plopped in my small family room. And yes, I had just deep cleaned my house that morning– mopped, vacuumed, everything. Fucking A. It’s one of those moments where you kinda don’t want to do something, but you do it bc you feel it needs to be done. Afterwards, there’s a tinge of regret. But whatever. We agreed and that’s that.

Now it’s one week later. B is a very sweet dog. John’s sister’s dog went home on Wednesday, and we’re down to two again. B and Martin are fine together. With J now on leave of absence from work, having B is helpful for giving us routine: up early to walk them and play fetch, etc. He slobbers and drools all over our wood floors when he drinks, and he sheds like crazy, but he’s really growing on me. He is eager to please, and the panting is subsiding somewhat. Maybe he is feeling more settled now. But the thing that really bugs me is, he’s been with us for a week. Not ONCE have we heard from the family. No text checking in 24 hrs later to see if the THREE dogs were doing ok together. No text asking if B is ok, if WE are ok, if the arrangement is still acceptable for us. I mean, no, we don’t have kids, but hell, there is a LOT going on in our lives right now. The elder care shit, even if we aren’t there in MD, is a huge mental worry. J not working, though financially feasible, is still something we are trying to figure out. We have decided to sell our house in Virginia bc the property management company SUCKS. I had to get our current roof here in MV repaired, and the work didn’t resolve the issue. Meanwhile, work is busy. I had a dream last night that my father died. I mean, there’s a lot emotionally and mentally that is going on. And all this time, while there is no inquiry with her dog, on FB, there are all these posts about winning recognition awards, the baby being late, the baby finally coming, and then the baby is here (but please, no visitors), photo shoot day, etc. WTF, people? Congrats on your baby. I get that parenthood is intense, but please, spare me the entitlement:

Thanks for calls and messages. I cannot get to them just yet. Lots of after pains for mommy… But baby is doing well. Please no visitors yet… Road to recovery has no shortcuts. Feel free to drop off a meal or pick up boys, especially B, to spend a couple of hours in the park. We cannot wait to share our new bundle of joy and her story with you all soon. Please keep sending your healing energy and prayers…

I can’t help but feel disappointed. Maybe I would give some more slack if these words were for close friends only, but for all? It’s a bit much, and frankly, pretty self-centered. In the end, I got sucked in. I responded to a perceived urgency. It’s my own damn fault. And to be clear, the scenario wasn’t the same as J and me leaving the country and needing dog care. The baby wasn’t even born yet! Whatever. I’m not going to use B like some pawn that gets shuttled back and forth from sitter to sitter. He’s already an anxious dog.

Oh well. My Peruvian posse is visiting for Memorial Day: four adults and one baby plus J, Martin, and me. It’s gonna be a full house on the houseboat. We’ll have B until then, and then he’ll have to go back. Hopefully, ten days will be sufficient for baby bonding and re-acclimation. [FAG id=7435]

Livin’ La Vida Loca in Miami

Oh shit, my blogging is all out of whack. I never wrote a recap of Miami…

My college bud J and I had a great time catching up in Miami. He flew in for less than 48 hours, but we did and saw a ton. And that’s kinda how he likes to roll. Several years ago, John and I met up with him in Austin for a 3-day weekend. We travel very well together: a lot of hanging out over meals, walking around, checking out parks, and then finding local food joints and music spots. Incidentally, J was telling me how this trip was oddly meant to be: in March, he had entered and won the NCAA bball office pool, and Duke won this year, so this last minute splurge was our little toast to Duke! Haha, who knew the alma mater would pay us back this way?

So Thursday night, he got in pretty late. We hit up a local bar and scarffed down uber greasy mac and cheese and other unhealthy bar food. Then we chatted all the way home. Eventually, he crashed but I was still wired, up til 4a!! The next morning, I was sooo tired but I was up at the crack of dawn doing work remotely. Some huge donor announcement where everyone at the school was freaking out for no damn reason. Seriously, I did my parts and then all morning long, while I was trying to pay attention in the sessions, the boss kept sending me text messages and this and that. I was getting so annoyed, again, with this feigned importance.

The sessions wrapped around noon; I went back up to the room and then J was stressing about not working Friday afternoon. See? I told you we’re both fucking workaholics. I ended up taking a nap, bc I was so damn tired. And he was glad to squeeze in a few more hours of work. Finally, at like 5p, we were ready to hit up South Beach. Except that the front desk told us rush hour traffic across the bridge was no joke. Ugh! So instead, we decided to walk from the Financial District north towards the bridge (7 miles). We stopped at a park or two and then grabbed happy hour bites along the waterfront. The funny thing about J is that he works for a tech/software company, but he’s super low tech. Never once when we were hanging out did he ever bust out his Blackberry. It was initially a little weird considering phones are so damn ubiquitous in Silicon Valley, but after awhile, it was refreshing to actually have someone’s undivided attention. Wow, imagine that.

We talked a lot about work and life. He hates his work, and yet many years in, he’s still there doing patent law. He’s terribly unhappy, and the high stress and long hours have taken a toll: he appears thinner than the last time I saw him, and he looks tired. It really made me wonder: why is life such a goddamn conundrum for so many people? I feel like we’re all smart, driven, and resourceful individuals, and yet we just can’t seem to get this shit right. And while we procrastinate and flounder grinding through day to day, we only prolong the damage and self destruction. I know money is necessary for survival: it affords us security and flexibilty and freedom, plus so many material comforts. It’s critical, but how much and at what cost? Meanwhile time just keeps ticking…

I worry about my friend. At times, I listen to him and I see this miserable picture. He’s single: paid off his school loans, doesn’t have debt, no spouse/sig other, no kids. If ANYone could up and leave and try something entirely new, it seems he would be that person. But as he explains, being an attorney has exacerbated his already worrisome and neurotic nature. Working in law, he’s constantly planning against things going wrong, protecting for worst-case scenarios. Consequently, risk is now something that is scarier than ever to him, bc he has to zone in on it and obsess over it in his daily work. J has always had an enormously high threshold for pain, but somehow I feel like he’s nearing a tipping point. I am hopeful that he will break the cycle soon.

Other incidents in South Beach: we arrived around 7:30p. I threw off my shoes and walked on the beach, headed for the water. Aahh, so much warmer than back West. There were lots of hard bodies in SB. I think there was a CrossFit class going on also. Take it easy, meatheads. For dinner, we hit up a local Cuban chain restaurant, where I ordered a super tasty chicken special. The meat had been slow cooked for like 30 hrs.

Interestingly, my entire time in Florida, I wanted to try Lyft, the Uber competitor. My buddy D recently used the service and loved it. He sent me a referral link with a $20 credit. I’ve never actually used Uber myself. I don’t like their vibe: the CEO is an asshole. I read something recently where he gave some inappropriate/lame response to an incident where a female passenger was driven somewhere remote and raped by the driver. So yeah, I was stoked to try Lyft and I figured having a buddy would be the perfect opportunity to give the service a try. Nope, J flat out refused on grounds that it was not legit and too risky. Yup, a total glimpse into what he had revealed earlier. No Lyft for me this time.

On Saturday, we got up early to hit up Vizcaya House and Gardens, some part-time home for a wealthy agriculture industrialist from a long time ago. I really like historic mansions with gardens. The architecture of this one felt a little on the creepy, decrepit side, but the property location was stellar: right there on the water. As I prepared to leave for the hotel then airport, I received a message that my flight was delayed 2 hours. Fine, we walked around a bit more and then instead of cabbing back to the hotel, we took the free Miami trolley. Yeah, we figured out the route and schedule NOT by looking shit up with our phones but by reading the posted schedules and guidelines at the busstop!! Kicking it old school.

The rest of the day was pretty long. The delayed flight was even MORE delayed (no explanations from AA and we sat on the tarmac forEVER), causing me to arrive in SFO too late to get Marty. Yup, another night with the sitter.

Overall though, Miami was a productive and fun trip. I learned a lot at the conference; I made some contacts; I got shit done; and we squeezed in a ton of fun activities. Oh, I almost forgot to give a shoutout to my bud E, who met up for dinner and drinks my very first night there. E and I met two years ago at the BlogHer conference. She runs the genius MommyMafia blog, which btw has taken off crazy in two very short years. E is originally from southern California, but she’s been in Miami for a decade plus (??) now. We’ve been in touch on and off since we first met (we met up for BlogHer last year in San Jose), so when I was on her turf, she was sweet enough to meet up for dinner at a Peruvian spot (where she was sweatin’ our waiter Ramses), and then she showed me around the famous Delano Hotel in South Beach. That’s where we sipped champagne sitting at a table IN the pool. I also admired the beautiful flowy white curtains in the hotel lobby and imagined that I was in the Ricky Martin video that was shot there years ago. 🙂 It was so fun seeing E again. I can honestly say that the Vicky from a few years back would never have reached out to someone I’d met at an event and asked her to hang out. But I’m glad that I adopted some new game-changing practices from my yearlong sabbatical. We had a great time, and I hope the next time she’s in the Bay Area, she’ll hit me up!

As for my buddy J, we’ll see how things go for him at work over the next several months… Who knows, maybe he’ll surprise me like he did by agreeing to meet up last minute in Florida![FAG id=7430]

The Mathematics of Friendship

You know that phrase, “Any friend of yours is a friend of mine”? Yeah, it sounds lovely and all, but you know what? That shit is NOT TRUE.

The thing is, whether we want to admit it or not, relationships are one-to-one: just because person A clicks with person B and person B clicks with person C, that doesn’t mean A connects with C. What’s that rule in mathematics? Commutative or associative? I can’t remember. In math, regrouping the elements (like in multiplication) doesn’t necessarily change the result, but with friendships, groupings can vary. I remember, as a kid, my friendships were so chock full of drama. For example, N and I were buds; J and I were buds; But N and J were NOT buds. Even as a kid, I noticed the ridiculousness of having to manage multiple, discrete worlds.  It felt needlessly political, complicated, and quite honestly, a huge waste of time (it was eating into my study time!). Oftentimes too, I was the odd one out: T was friends with me and C, but C and I didn’t click. “Sharing” a friend didn’t bother me too much, except for those times when I felt deliberately excluded and I had FOMO (fear of missing out). In college, the multiple, yet separate circles got even more extreme. But the good news is that eventually, I just didn’t mind being excluded. I guess you could say I got comfortable with being uncomfortable. I mean, we did our things together, but heck, my friends roamed wild. They had great, fun experiences with their friends in other cliques. Likewise, so did I. In the end, I came to see that maybe this is how it’s supposed to be all along: Sometimes, we can all play in the sandbox. Other times, we’re on the jungle gym with these people, jumping rope with these other people, and playing kickball with a third set of people. And people can move around, and create a new equilibrium. This laissez-faire approach can work out pretty well with people governing themselves and feeling out what works for them.

That said, there’s definitely a balance with friendships, weighing effort vs. ease. I feel like I expend a lot of effort, but there is also a natural ease. Like, there’s effort with planning and with communicating, but an ease in comfort and familiarity…which makes things worthwhile.

Sometimes, I’ve noticed there’s discrepancy between people’s personalities “on paper” and how they are IRL (in real life). A few years ago, my buddy D started dating this lady who, on paper, sounded absolutely amazeballs. I could not wait to meet her, bc I was so sure we would get along. After all, D was my bud, and he thought the world of her. Sadly, IRL? The complete opposite! I thought she was the most boring person ever, and Jesus Christ, she had so many goddamn rules about everything– what to wear inside the house, outside the house, what/where to eat, on and on!! After she entered the picture, D and I stopped being friends. Somehow, the ease was gone: we rarely hung out with him solo and hanging with her required so much damn effort with her overkill “stipulations.”

That kind of segues into the next question: how much do you tolerate your good friend’s bud/spouse/sig other/child? On one hand, to some extent, respecting someone who is important to your friend is a form of honoring your friendship. But what if that person does some annoying shit? What if, in your ideal world, you would prefer NOT to spend time with that person?

Seriously, what’s the protocol? Do you
A) Suck it up?
B) Subtly limit interaction, so you mostly spend time with your friend solo?
C) Make some kind of PC comment that illustrates your disappointment in his/her behavior (but not the person)?
D) Honestly explain that you don’t particularly like the other person, and you would prefer to just do things one-on one?

Am I overthinking? Probably. That’s what happens when I get a lot of me time, and Bubbey’s not around to flesh out these mental exercises with me.

In general, I consider myself a pretty laid-back friend. I don’t get jealous about my friends having other friends, another life, and/or doing fun things without me. I really don’t care about being included or excluded, probably bc I’m pretty good about enjoying my personal time and/or staying busy. That said, when I plan/organize parties for a special occasion, I frequently mix my circles, because we’re all adults and I’m not going to overthink or micromanage who gets along with whom. I determine the guest list, and I’m fucking unapologetic about it. If people are uncomfortable with the other attendees, they always have an out: they’re welcome to skip out. No questions asked.

And I’ve definitely been on both the host and invitee sides of the equation. For example, my realtor friend used to always invite me to big parties with her friends (clients), or she always wanted to do family meetings instead of one-on-one. I didn’t really click with any of her other guests at a few of her parties, and then the joint time with her kiddies was so-so, so I started just declining on all those invites. I don’t expect her to throw multiple small parties to accommodate me, but at the same time, she shouldn’t have expectations for me to attend all the group crap. Anyway, for some reason, I’ve been chewing on these topics recently. Guess it all boils down to choices and choosing how to spend time.

Day 2 of the Conference

OMG, I got zero sleep last night. Yes, I practically had a slumber party all by myself. You see, yesterday morning, I just had to try the in-room espresso machine, bc well fuck, that shit is free. Nevermind that I am super duper HYPERsensitive to caffeine. I figured, heck, I had all damn day to let that shit process through my body. Well, the conference ran 1 – 7p, and then since the pool was closed (major banker hours), I ended up hanging in my room doing work. Then I blogged. Then, whatever, whatever, the next thing I know, it’s fucking 4:30a and I have to get up before 8 to hop in the shower and continue my free-a-thon with the continental breakfast. I know, it’s my own damn fault. I kill myself.

Day 2 of the conference was good except that I kept getting bullshit work email, so that was distracting. And then the conference did this experimental live streaming session with panelists in the UK. The audio sucked, and then on top of that, it like required too much brain power for me to decipher their accents. I know, the Brit accent isn’t that severe, but I’m a tard. Too much brain power. Even though I zoned out on some of the sessions, I did much better today making connections, i.e. spamming people with my business cards.

I have to say, the higher ed scene is an interesting space. It actually feels very high school. The development people are all the cheerleader/cool kids with their school spirit and leadership and involvement (both as students and as alums). The communications people are a lot of ex-journos, so extroverted and curious. The data/techie people are more in the weeds. So the morning keynote yesterday was this Ken-doll-esque sports captain dude with two Ivy League degrees. He’s the CEO of a data aggregation platform that we actually use at my school. For my own professional dev challenge, I knew I had to make the connection. Well all day yesterday, people swarmed around him. I felt intimidated, not only by his academic pedigree but you know, big dog CEO plus he’s all JFK and shit. I dunno. So today, I finally caught him in a solo moment, engrossed on his phone and laptop, and then I went in for the kill. I said that I really enjoyed his talk yesterday, and he replied, “Why?” Yeah, I had to do a double take! What an unexpected reply. It was fine: I explained my connection to his company, that I used his tool last night, blah, blah. I think I played it cool, but I was def a little thrown off. And of course, he later introduced me to another client. In a very high school fashion, she barely gave me two seconds to exchange cards. That’s what I mean. More so than any other industry conference I have attended, this conference really has a strange way of transporting me back to high school with all its awkward and insecure moments.

And let me just say… those development people? Always so beautiful and polished and confident. I mean, it makes sense. They’re the schmoozers, right? I remember a few years back, I toyed with this idea of working in sales. I was convinced that a sales gig would give me super powers, and I would finally be able to stop being inconvenienced by my discomfort and social awkwardness. When I mentioned this to J and all my friends, they all just shook their heads, without a second of hesitation. I mean, radical honesty is radical honesty. They didn’t see it. I actually think I could do it. I might not be super good at it, and it might drain me, but I think I could definitely learn and improve enough to be decent. I mean I did cold calls at the fuel cell startup, and I was ok. Then again, I admit, it would probably never come naturally. Still, how cool to have that charisma and instant magnetism. Haha, listen to me. What it must be like to be cool and popular. Sigh, sigh! See??? Back in high school again.

Anyway, like I said, I met a lot of people today. I happened to sit next to a UC Santa Cruz person, and then she introduced me to a Mills College lady and a guy from UCLA. Interestingly, all of them were former journalists. Isn’t that sad? Fucking news, man. No one cares anymore about the cold hard facts. People just want to see fluffed, sensationalized crap. And social totally aids and abets that shift. We went to a ceviche spot together for lunch. I also met the ED of Marketing and Comm for Texas A&M. Wow, the way he described Galveston there on the ocean. Sounded beautiful PLUS their mascot is a mini horse. I mean, I’m sold!! Texas anyone?

So my bud Josh flies in tonight. Kinda late, so I’m going to research some food options for a late dinner. I managed to squeeze in some pool and hot tub time earlier as soon as the sessions let out. Still cloudy outside but the pool was nice. I dunno why more people don’t go in the pool. They just lay around, and there’s no f-ing sun!! Doesn’t make sense. I went in the hot tub too. It was super hot (yay!) and cloudy as hell. So kinda gross, but I made the best of it. Incidentally, I just discovered a foosball table in the next building. Love foosball. We’ll see if J is up for a game later.