J3 and I were in Albuquerque for the International Balloon Fiesta! Who knew such a wondrous event would take place in such an odd place. Anyway, we lucked out with the weather, and my oh my, the fields and sky were utterly magical! Highly recommend!

My coworker/friend R and I headed to Nevada City, CA for the Draft Horse Classic. Another grand adventure indeed!

My coworker/friend R and I headed to Nevada City, CA for the Draft Horse Classic. Another grand adventure indeed!

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about life. The last time I wrote, my friend C was in the hospital, expected to die within a few days. Miraculously, he battled his way out of there in two weeks and returned home. Days later, he was back in the hospital and then out again. I think this is what Stage IV cancer looks like– lots of ups and downs, things really are just day by day. In these moments, when death feels so real, I find myself particularly susceptible to quotes and self-help sites. I feel somber and yet more certain of perspective, like I’m able to better categorize the “small stuff” vs. the important stuff.

The situation with John is good– better than before. We are doing things together, but still, I feel a loss, an emptiness. Honestly I feel alone. I read a quote recently explaining that loneliness isn’t a lack of company but a lack of connection. He works a lot (still). In the past, I had so many people available and ready to fill the void of not having my best friend around. Now, people are busy with their own lives, their own projects, their own developments. And who can fault them? Life is complicated; people have their own BFFs. What void are they looking to fill?

When C was in the hospital, F was there the whole time. This is a woman who loves fashion and shopping and cooking and being at home with their two cats. But for two weeks, she never left the hospital. She didn’t care what she was wearing. She didn’t care what she was eating. I’ve commented before that she’s ridiculously co-dependent, and clearly, there are things about their relationship that I don’t envy. But there was something almost Notebook-esque about how she had to be there with him the whole time. He was cranky and irritable and she oftentimes didn’t understand medically what all was going on, but she would have it no other way than to be there at his bedside.

I see these snapshots of life– whether they are real life or in Hollywood movies– and they make me think of my marriage. If I were in the hospital, would he be there by my side? This seems like a simple enough question, and years ago, I would never have given it more than a second’s thought. I would have responded, almost instinctively (with a hint of incredulousness even), “of course! Duh!” Now, I’m not so sure. I think if I were dying, then yes, probably. If I weren’t dying but just hospitalized, yes, likely. How could I think such things? How could there be any doubt?

Relationships are about the big things, of course. In those big moments of life and death, who can you truly rely on? That list of people feels like it should be obvious, practically second nature. But beyond those big happenings, life is also, surprisingly, about the little things. Sure, people say don’t sweat the small stuff, but what if the small stuff are really indicators of big stuff?

What is important to him? What is important to me, and how do we honor those values for each other? I don’t like feeling pensive, because more often than not, it causes me to feel sad and down. The way I counteract my overthinking is to focus on keeping it together, outwardly in hopes of overriding the inward anxiety. Specifically, my tactics for coping include obsessing over things that only involve me– they way I dress (clothing), the way I look (skincare, makeup, exercise), the way I feel (eating, exercise), the way I think (classes)…

For example, every week I turn to Pinterest seeking style inspiration. Yes, it’s fun and it’s a hobby, but really? Spending HOURS a week trying on different outfits and concocting new combos in my mind? Is this too much? Oftentimes I think, well, what else would I do with my free time?

Maybe it’s a way to develop a skill, to be good at something. I should consider it a celebration following all those years I spent hiding. I would never complain about putting effort into looking and feeling nice… it is a luxury I feel so blessed to have now… but sometimes I wonder: is this purely a celebration, or is it some warped attempt to distract? Am I controlling myself to compensate for my lack of control in other realms of my life?

I read an article recently about perfectionism. I don’t think I’m a perfectionist (maybe about just a couple things), but there was a quote that resonated with me: The worse I feel about me, the more I need to be perfect. Lately, I have been feeling a stronger pull to change myself.

For example, I felt like I was eating a bunch of junk and getting bloated, so I went on a quasi-diet of sorts (10 days? 2 weeks) and lost 3 lbs. I’ve noticed that recently, I’ve been feeling more dissatisfied too with what I see in the mirror– it’s always something: the hair, the freckles, the scars, the Dumbo ears, the bulgy shoulders… I have to actively remind myself of how far I’ve come to overcome the scrutiny. Then there are all these psychoanalytical questions. Do I have a confidence issue? Am I starving for attention? Why do I call myself a latch-key kid? How do these feelings of loneliness fit in with my ideals of feminism, of independence, of self-sufficiency? See why I have to distract myself with activities?

Today, I feel fine about myself. The pimple on my nose and freckles on my ears aren’t bothering me today. I’m feeling ok about my relationship. We have good moments– the weekend in SLO, the chocolate dipping party this weekend, breakfast/dinner at home yesterday. But I want Noah and Allie. It doesn’t have to be all consuming, but the relationship should be more than it is. He’ll argue this, but he’s stingy with his time. He doesn’t even admit to “working a lot” until he clocks in 70+ hrs/week. But it’s not even about the quantity. Whatever, he never gets it. And then he just pulls out examples where supposedly I neglect him, because I have a shitload of household chores to get done. Maybe I should just clump housework with my regular job, and then we are both workaholics. In the end, I just want acknowledgement that work gets top billing. Just come clean by admitting that much. Don’t make me demonstrate/prove the case.

So maybe now this has turned into a case of having to be right. A big no-no for relationships. I dunno. Things are the way they are. I eat dinner alone, because I eat light during the day and get too hungry to wait for him to get home 7p or later. I go to the bboy dance-off alone, because he’s not interested and because he has to work. I go to the spa alone, because he doesn’t want to go and has to work. I go horseback riding alone, because he already went last week (the first time in several months) and took photos and he has to work. I’m going to be taking a harmonica class alone, because he’s not interested. I’m taking a financial investment class alone, because he is not interested.

I’m not saying he should accompany me on every activity, but let’s just list out the activities that I do and see which are done alone and which are done with him:

– walk the dogs in the p.m.
– yoga class
– Bay Area Geek Girl dinner or any other tech related talk
– shopping
– horseback riding
– watching tv before he gets home (movies, WNTW, SATC)
– crafts
– household chores
– biking with Benny/Tina (1x/week)
– class during the week

He does these things alone:
– walk the dogs in a.m.
– grocery shop
– cooking 3x/week
– gym
– watching tv before bed

Yeah, he invites me to go with on some of these but 1) I sleep in because I have insomnia and I wake up around 6 a.m. to feed the dogs 2) Grocery shopping is a chore to me– I’m not about to add yet another chore to my list. 3) I don’t like Tosh 2.0 and whatever other crap he watches.

We do these things together:
– activities with friends (3x/month)
– concert/show/open mic (2x/month)
– biking (3x/month)
– movie (1-2x/month)
– meals (4x/week)
– weekend travel (1x/month)

Does this seem balanced? I dunno. Now my head hurts thinking about all this shit. And my friend is coming over this afternoon. She looks dangerously skinny to me and well, I’m planning to talk to her about it. I didn’t think I was stressed, but I had a dream about the talk the other night. Hope she is receptive.

Life goes on.

Maybe we’re just getting to that age now… that age when death becomes a very plausible reality. I’ve mentioned our friends C & F before. John used to work with the hubby– they are about 20 years older than we. The four of us used to live about 15 minutes away, and they frequently invited us over for dinner. While we didn’t exactly connect the same way we do with our peers, they were always very warm and generous and kind.

Four years ago, C was diagnosed with stage IV colon cancer. Every year prior to that, he’d gone in for his yearly colonoscopy. The results always came back clean. Then, all of the sudden he started having aches and pains. After running tests, doctors learned that cancer had spread all over the body– to his lungs, his kidneys… The colon cancer had gone undetected for so long, because it had developed on the outside of the colon. Back then, doctors gave him two years to live. Since then, he continued to work while also seeking experimental treatment all over the world.

We lost touch in the years following. Chemo and radiation took its toll on C. He no longer had the energy to cook and entertain and host parties. Without him leading the charge and with us moving farther away, the interactions grew sparse. I thought of them often, but I was too lazy to reach out.

Then last Friday afternoon, we received word from another ex-coworker that C had been in the hospital since Tuesday. There were perforations in his intestines; toxic fluids leaked throughout his abdominal cavity causing severe infection. Surgery was not an option as doctors feared he would die on the operating table. The prognosis was 24-48 hours.

When we arrived at his hospital room, he looked surprisingly well. He was completely coherent and lucid. He had lots of tubes, but he was fully aware. I always remembered C as a vibrant and gregarious person. Like I said, he was always hosting parties, cooking up some fancy Michelin-level meal from scratch, listening to music, watching movies on his projection screen in his living room. Even though at work, John said he was oftentimes grouchy and sometimes difficult, outside of the office, he was clearly someone who loved to be around people. And he was a kind and generous man. They didn’t have kids, but I always saw stacks of donation mailings on the dining room table.

By contrast, his hospital room was so sterile and cold and white. The sunlight in his room was strong and oddly unforgiving. C said he was ill-rested and visibly, we could see he was very uncomfortable. He knew doctors were predicting the end. A lot of visitors came to see him, but the tone was solemn and silent. No chatter, no music, no tv playing in the background. I struggled with what to say. Frequently, we would all just sit there in silence.

The last few nights, I’ve been thinking, “What would someone else do under such circumstances.” He’s not ready to die, but doctors say nothing can be done. Limited time and yet, zero mobility. He misses his cats. He’s scared. Call after call, he explains the news. What must that be like?

And on top of that, it’s been days and NO ONE from his family has arrived. His spouse’s sisters have flown in from Singapore and Indonesia. Where are his brothers and sister? No one knows what’s up with that.

Meanwhile, C is hanging on… already doctors are surprised he has lasted til now, but even so, the situation is tenuous at best. This morning his white blood cell counts jumped so high that doctors decided to risk external infection by inserting an abdominal drain to pipe out the infection and pus. The physician reiterated that the drain does not cure/repair the problem, which is his perforated/broken bowels.

John and I have gone to see C & F the last three days. I know we aren’t very close, and the visits are extremely uncomfortable for John. But I just thought of how social C always was… and somehow I just felt like having a lot of people there would comfort him, especially in the absence of his family.

I want to be hopeful, but the reality is that he has been in stage 4 for a long time now. Small measures may buy him more time, but… not much.

I just can’t stop thinking about what it must feel like to not be ready for death. When astronauts go to space, do they spend their time before the launch thinking they might not come back? Do they have some kind of bucket list that they make sure gets done before take off? Do they say goodbye as if it’s their last? Maybe there’s higher likelihood of astronauts returning from space than not. I dunno. For some reason, death makes me think of people who go to space.

Thankfully, F is doing much better than I had expected. Four years ago, she was an utter mess– completely paralyzed by the news. Obsessed and yet completely immobilized by it. Fortunately since then, she has become stronger. She still has difficulty understanding what is happening medically/technically, but she clearly gains strength from the support of her sisters, so I’m very glad they are here. F will be ok. Still, this is someone who has relied very heavily on her husband for nearly two decades. She’s an immigrant from Indonesia with limited English literacy– she has never held a job, and it’s fair to say, she is completely co-dependent. Undoubtedly, the transition will be tough, but she will be ok.

So needless to say, this has been a stressful weekend. I’m still holding out hope.

So I turned 36 earlier this month… it’s the year of the dragon, so my age is a multiple of 12 (for the 12 Chinese zodiac signs). For the most part, my birthday passed blissfully… I mean, I DID struggle with the reality of being closer to 40 than to 30, but what can be done?

The life of Benji Button continued on its usual trajectory. The week before, I went on my long anticipated cattle drive in Parkfield, CA. My four days as a star in City Slickers definitely were an adventure. Temps were in the high 90s, and we clocked in about 6 hours/day of riding. Thankfully, those weekly riding lessons paid off and I eked by with minimal soreness in the butt and legs. Then again, Butt Butt’r might have been my savior! Overall, I was good with nearly all of the cowboy livin’ (the heat was actually nice with the breezes and tree shade)… the only dealbreaker for a repeat? The camping. Well, what I call camping. Yes, staff cooked our meals and we had hot showers and real toilets, but STILL. Anytime I’m not sleeping in my Westin bed (perfected after years of product research), I call it camping. Yes, crappy beds at cheap hotels also count. 🙂 Needless to say, I missed my bed– maybe even more than I missed unlimited internet!! And I should also clarify that this was the FIRST time ever that I traveled without my laptop. Yes, I am THAT ridiculous. Just call me fuckin’ Kim Kardashian, ok?

On a more serious note, the experience really reminded me that there are all sorts of ways people make a living. So often I forget and assume that everyone is college-educated, mid to upper class, and white collar. So NOT true. One person I met– he was the sweetest guy ever. Why do I say this? Uh, the dude was away from his wife for 4 short days, and he bought a subscription to some e-cards service so that he could queue up daily e-cards for the wife. If you’re rolling your eyes, let’s just remember that The Notebook is one of my favorite movies, so f off. Anyway, Andrew and I were talking about our childhood. He was telling me how he was raised by a single mom, and they traveled throughout California doing migrant farm labor starting at the age of 3– he picked cotton in the fields!! Then, he was saying how this cattle drive was on his bucket list, and to do it, he had to forgo all gifts/presents/vacations/splurges for the next two years.

I felt so ridiculous. I mean, truthfully, I found the site, thought about it for a few minutes, and then bam, booked it without further thought. And afterwards, I proceeded to buy myself a riding helmet, riding pants, and fucking expensive cowboy boots…

I know, my father always says “life is unfair.” But Jesus, call it like it is: I am a spoiled white collar brat. My life is cake. I need to do something about this.

John and I dropped off the parents at the airport, and then immediately headed over to the Maker Faire. That place was fucking mobbed. Seriously, it took us about 45 min just to get in the front gate. Lines were wrapped all the way around the parking lot. This is what happens I suppose with events with cult-live followings.

John tries to go every year, and this year he convinced me by trying to sell the whole “craft” angle. The good news is that I actually met and spoke with JH, the creator of WoolBuddy!! It was pretty darn cool. I told him my parents were just in town, and mom and I did WoolBuddies. I didn’t show him the pictures, but I’ll leave that up to his imagination. Truth be told, mom’s owl was deformed. It looked more like an owl-parrot hybrid, and dad even went so far as to describe it like a rabbit, so needless to say, that one needed some help.

What else. We found an artist that we really liked, and we actually purchased two of her prints. Of course, leave it to us to pick out a print of the Golden Gate Bridge that features two lesbians. Yes, I thought one of the members of the couple had a strange “guy” haircut, and it wasn’t until we had left the artist’s stall that we both realized the artwork featured a same-sex couple. Not that we are anti-gay, but well, it was supposed to be in our living room representing us in some forced way. 😉 Long story short, I went back to the artist and asked to exchange the piece for another. My explanation was that the colors were too dark for where I wanted to hang it. Issue averted, but man, leave it to us to fuck up the initial selection. See for yourself: Original purchase One and Two. Replacement print. Her work is very fun.

We also purchased these fun lil Japanese paper toys called Piperoids. Basically, they are movable toys created from paper pipes. We made these the other night. Totally crafty and cute.

The parentals were in town earlier this month on their annual pilgrimage to the Houseboat. Of course, I was stressed the entire week prior and the week during, wracking my brain, trying to figure out what the hell to do with them for a week. Fortunately, from the last time they were here, the house at least had had some dramatic improvements with the outdoor space dressed up and some of the indoor spaces decorated a bit. The house just was a bit more lived in, which I think made them just more settled and comfortable. They liked what the landscapers had done with the backyard and such.

As usual, we gave up our Westin bed for the week. Luckily, I found an air mattress on Amazon (just two days before their arrival) for us in the guest room, and with the memory foam mattress topper, that thing was pretty damn comfy. No comparison to the Westin bed which still has the heated mattress topper, but nonetheless, the air mattress was a clear upgrade from the crappy futon to which many past visitors have been subjected (Sorry!).

Anyway, the visit itself went fine. I spent the weekend with them, taking them to some new Chinese restaurants and then during the week, I took off two days. One night mom and I made Woolbuddies; we did a bit of shopping, paperwork/logistical stuff, cooking at home, and then pretty much the trip was over. Oh well, on Friday I took them to the DeYoung Observatory in Golden Gate Park. It was a nice day, and I packed some fruit, so we sat outside afterwards and soaked in the sunshine. For lunch, I took them to Burma Superstar, and wow, that was a tasty, pleasant surprise. I’ve been craving their fermented tea leaf salad ever since. I was just happy though to have my parents try something new and actually like it.

The good news is that my parents seem to be healthy. We went for nightly walks around the neighborhood, and they certainly held their own while walking through Golden Gate Park. They are noticeably slower when they walk but thankfully, they are still truckin’ along.

And of course I should mention that no trip ends without the obligatory incident where mom tries to give me her old clothes. Every now and then, there’s something worth wearing but usually, it’s fuddy duddy shit that’s oversized and totally not age appropriate. Jesus, if my father tells me one more time that I should wear “more professional” attire (“like suits from Kasper”), I’m going to fucking scream. I’m not 65+, for crying out loud!!!  And in my office, no one fucking shows up to work in suits. Seriously, we wear JEANS!! What can I do but shake my head in disbelief.

John and I celebrated nine years of marriage last month (hence the items listed in the title). Thankfully, he’s been feeling really well lately, and hell I am living it up while I can. 🙂

He even planned our weekend celebration in Yosemite (first time ever!). What a beautiful, magical place (even for out-of-shape pudgers like ourselves). We had a great time, but now we’re back onto a new program: detox and exercise. Hope to be back in tip top by my birthday next month. Fingers crossed. No games.

Good weekends– they have felt rather few and far between, so I suppose the good ones are worth writing about. Truth be told, I’ve started 3 or 4 draft posts in the last several months, and none of them got to the “publish” mode. Why? Perhaps I’m starting to self-censor? Ugh, I hate the thought of that. But I admit, those four drafts were started in anger. Really, I was so pissed and annoyed when I sat down to write those. I was feeling a host of emotions with each one– but all of my feelings were negative and bitter. For one reason or another, I decided to let my words simmer. And the result is that I don’t want to revisit those drafts today.

Today, I want to talk about my good weekend. John and I pretty much just kept to ourselves for 2.5 days but it was kinda nice. Friday night we went to the movies and my god, the theater was mobbed. Damn Hunger Games. Nope, we went to see Friends with Kids. I thoroughly enjoyed the storytelling… well all the way up until the end. The ending felt a bit sudden but other than that, great movie. We were one of maybe 3 couples in the whole theater. Everyone else was there for Hunger Games. I know, we’re fucking behind the times. We got waffle fries and popcorn and basically got ourselves sick off theater food. That shit is so gross, but hey, there’s always a time and a place for everything, right?

Saturday was errand day. I know, nothing exciting but we’ve been procrastinating for AGES on a Costco run and Saturday we just bit the bullet and went in like warriors. We also FINALLY redeemed our Costco Amex bucks. God, what a f-ing pain they make that whole procedure. Regardless, stocked up and now we’re ready for our visitors Monday and Tuesday. Saturday night we watched a foreign film on Netflix. It was so different and amusing from the usual Hollywood bullshit. Well done.

Sunday, John got up hours before I did and I awoke to breakfast in bed. Fucking awesome. One of those “I Love My Life” moments, you know? At noon, I headed to the ranch, which was wet and muddy. Our riding group went on the paved road and trails at the adjacent park. I’m finally getting ahold of this “collected” riding idea. What a huge difference a “collected” horse makes. Smooth riding today! Now we can begin the cattle drive countdown!

This afternoon Bubs and I got the house ready for our visitors. J and K are coming on Monday. It’s been 6 years since we’ve seen J and maybe 4-5 since we’ve seen K. We’re thrilled to have them over. Hope their first time to the SF Bay area impresses!