So I had a bit of a meltdown yesterday… the contractor woes and delays just weren’t getting better, and I was finding myself completely preoccupied with house stuff while at work. I couldn’t concentrate, I couldn’t get shit done… I just couldn’t get firm answers from Jerry. Then the delays pissed my realtor off even more, and she practically started building a case to blacklist him everywhere. Finally, I decided I could not keep doing this– babysitting the contractor and his crew– seeing when they would arrive, when they would be at the home next. I can multi-task, but I do NOT like to nag and harp. I want people to have pride in their work and to feel their own sense of accountability. Sure, I understand the construction biz is a challenging one. You either don’t have any gigs, or you have too many commitments and I get that when you open up walls, sometimes you never know what’s behind them so slippage is common. But what I couldn’t handle was the flakiness and lack of communication. Last Friday, I had left maybe 4 messages on his cell and I never heard back until the following Tuesday. So while I liked the guy and felt his work quality was good and he was honest in explaining the construction tasks, he was extremely lacking in communicating scheduling expectations and delays.

Yesterday, after being on the phone for hours debating these issues and why they were unacceptable, I finally just told him, finish to XYZ tonight, and then let’s just call it done. I simply could not continue at this level of involvement and frustration.

When I got home, the floors looked fantastic. I talked with Jerry, and as “penance”, he offered himself and the crew for the entire day on Tuesday where they would install the base cabinets, finish the drywall, and lay the kitchen flooring. All of it done on Tuesday for $400. I told him I’d think about it, and let him know.

Then I set up appointments for today (Friday) with another contractor (getting Plan B in line) and an interior designer. I needed progress fast.

By evening, as I was researching new jobs to deal with my newfound disgruntlement at work. I couldn’t find shit. And then I felt trapped. And then John called, and I broke down in tears. It was just too much. All of it. The house projects, the emotional strain of befriending then firing my contractor, the starting over trying to recruit new contractors, the job situation (today is Take Your Dog to Work Day)… I just couldn’t take it anymore.

By late evening, I started itching around my waist. The bumps were coming back… three years ago, I got the shingles and the same itchiness and discomfort was returning. I had a complete meltdown.

So here we are today: Friday afternoon. I didn’t go to work. I was too unstable. This morning, I met with a new contractor and the interior designer. I have a new plan now. Carpets will install Monday. Kitchen will be mostly done by Tuesday. Then, I’m working with the designer who will propose a solution in one week. I’m taking a 2-week break afterwards from construction. Then, we’ll start on the master bath.

I often think about my resiliency and tolerance. Why did I have this meltdown? Why was my body reacting with a possible second bout of shingles? I have been feeling stressed and overwhelmed, but shouldn’t I be able to handle this and MORE? I’m disappointed. Part of my breakdown had to do with disappointment and self doubt. How was I not able to manage this contractor? How did this level of slippage occur? What more should I have done? And yet, this is just what happened. I tried to reel him in. I tried to communicate my expectations. I tried to get things in writing… I just don’t know what happened.

And now my body has shut down. So today I’m trying to take it easy. But still kind of trying to formulate a plan for moving forward– I know, people say I need to pace myself. Yet I see other people doing more. What’s their secret? How do I get there? I know, I’m a ball of contradictions: rest but don’t rest, do more. I can’t help it. I really want superpowers. Is that so much to ask?

Well, we did it! Somehow, even with a sick Bubbey, we managed to pack up all our shit, move with the help of 3 guys + truck, transfer all the refrigerated goods, load another 3 car-fulls of shit, and clear on our of Armada. Boy, what an ordeal.

Today, we both headed to Armada after work to pile up the last junk– fragiles, paintings, odds and ends. We had planned to hit the pool and hot tub on our final visit, but John forgot he already turned in the pool key and I had packed up my swimsuit. But luck was with us: John found my swimsuit– turns out he only found the top half (he thought it was a one-piece). Sure, the bottoms were missing but whatev. I threw on some soccer shorts and it was good enough. Also, we managed to tailgate another neighbor in. Haha, got my final soak. Oh how I will miss the water. :*(

I took some pictures, because I couldn’t believe how great we left the place– after 3.5 years. And it’s amazing how spacious a place can feel without all our crap. See for yourself.

But on to bigger and better. Before driving home, we had dinner at our favorite hole-in-the-wall Vietnamese bun place. The new adventures of Goodbers begin again!

Never say never, right? John and I said we didn’t believe in the institution of marriage; six and a half years in, we tied the knot. We said we weren’t ready to buy a home; two days later, we were under contract. We said we disliked children… now, in our mid-30’s, we’re essentially new parents. And the child’s name is Laura (you’ll see when you come visit). And what a huge fucking time sink she is!! Every fucking day, there’s something that has to be handled with Laura. During the day, I’m making calls, going to her “games”, and meeting with her “teachers”. At night, I’m researching what options are best for her, getting her the supplies she needs to have a productive, happy life.

At this point, I’m telling my boss, “Yeah, Laura’s got a game tonight. I’m heading over. Tomorrow there’s a PTA conference. The day after, it’s piano lessons.” Ok, if you haven’t figured it out by now, Laura is our new house. But I’m thinking this must be what parenting is like… only worse. At least Laura is deaf/mute.

So what’s on tap for this weekend? Early moving, confirming bathroom materials, putting on a lockbox for the contractors. We still haven’t decided on the damn kitchen cabinets: we’re down to one final competing product; otherwise, Ikea, here we come! My contractor is a great guy, very thorough but goddamn, he doesn’t return calls or reply to emails. I’m trying to decide whether that’s a deal breaker.

In other news, the Reston home is finally under new management. God people, whatever you do, avoid McGrath at all costs. My contract with them terminated May 31, and guess what? My tenant received an email June 1 asking to schedule an inspection in late June. That’s what I’m talking about: they are perpetually disorganized. The head doesn’t talk to any of the limbs/organs. A complete fucking mess. I hope the new property management company is more competent, because seriously, at that point, I might as well have just managed the property myself from Cali and that STILL would have been 10 times better. Ugh. Anyway…

Today the landlord of our current place is coming over for an inspection. Not really sure how she’s going to inspect given that most everything is in boxes all over the frickin’ place, but whatever. Then, we’re taking the pups to their new pad. Can’t wait to see them frolic in the yard. They’re going to love all the sunshine too.

Ok, well time to start the day.

Saw this in my twitter feed this morning: Sorry, Man, You’re Too Short (Am I A Bad Feminist?)

I have such a complicated relationship with my family. Maybe this is how it is for everyone (yes? no?), but honestly speaking, every time I’m about to visit my peeps, I feel a tremendous sense of dread. And then I feel guilty about my lack of enthusiasm, because I know they really are good people with good intentions. It’s just that there’s so much pressure, and I can’t say whether it’s a cultural thing or just something specific to my family but it’s this idea that one person’s happiness or sense of fulfillment relies solely on other people.

So on Monday, John and I arrived at my grandfather’s house. My parents weren’t due to arrive in Taiwan until evening. I sat down and probably had the longest “conversation” of my life with my grandfather. I put conversation in quotes, because in actuality, he only speaks Taiwanese, and I only speak Mandarin and English. We really can’t communicate in any true sense… well, I suppose I can understand certain words in Taiwanese, but really, I’m only grasping the highlights. Regardless, he immediately jumped into what’s been troubling him. He’s 89 years old. My father is his first child and oldest son. Johnny is my father’s first child and oldest son. Grandfather said my brother still hasn’t married. The family introduces lots of “qualified” women, but he rejects all of them. My grandfather said I need to talk to Johnny to urge him to settle down. My grandfather fears that he will die before seeing a great-grandson from my brother. His only hope now is me and John. So right off the bat, I’m stressed. Welcome home to Taiwan, right?

The thing is, I despise this old school mentality… this notion of continuing the line, of having children for other people. Everything about it rubs me the wrong way. And yet, there he sits before me, all old and fragile– my grandfather who has endured such hardship and made so many sacrifices. I respect his candidness. I understand that he is asking me for something that I have the capacity to give. But I will not. He’s not a bad person for wanting these things. But I’m so adamant about my choices and my life. I wish I could give him what he wants, but I have made my choice and no matter how much he asks, I will not yield. So there we sit. All I can do is listen and hold firm. We are at an impasse, and that’s just where we will have to stay.

I’m an obstinate, opinionated person but god, this was an uncomfortable setting. And the discomfort has only grown worse as my other family members continue to ask whether I will bear children and whether I have reconnected with Johnny. It’s so fucking irksome that they even ask about either. Regarding Johnny, they know that we have been estranged since 2003; yet, they refuse to accept the status quo. Sure, maybe I am being immature but I learned long ago that in order preserve my own sanity, I simply could not continue communicating with him. And so, another life decision that goes misunderstood and judged. Sure, it wouldn’t kill me to try to make amends, but why. I have determined that the relationship adds nothing to my life. I can live without. If he feels otherwise, the ball is in his court. I don’t feel motivated to try again.

And my family here is huge: my grandfather, an uncle, 3 aunts, 9 cousins, 6 nieces/nephews. Save for the little ones, every person I see asks these same two questions: when are you having kids, and did you see your brother? I’m trying to let these jabs roll off my back without feeling a need to defend my position or decision. I’m getting better, but the situation is extremely annoying.

Add to that, not just simple questioning but prodding and poking by my aunts. Oh your brother is so excited to see you. Oh, he was preparing to take you around Taipei but you never called. Oh, your parents just want one thing in this world to make them happy, and you refuse to give them a grandchild. I know, I should just let these things enter one ear and exit the other, but I take responsibility and accountability very seriously. And even if I don’t coddle/pamper my parents the way a “good Chinese daughter” is supposed to, I do feel it’s important to be good to them.

My aunts always ask why I am so detached from my parents. How come when I see them, I don’t baby them: I don’t offer them something to drink, a massage, or a tasty bite? It’s like my every move is watched and judged. They say things like, you should treat your parents with the same sweetness you treat your husband. I mean, that’s the thing: my relationships with John and my friends are totally different from those with my parents and brother. Not only that, I don’t believe in coddling– whether it’s my parents coddling Johnny, my cousin coddling her kid, or whatever. I mean, I hardly even coddle Remy and Martin and they’re the easiest relationship EVER!

Then my aunt was getting all huffy with me yesterday, because turns out her daughter has been dating this guy she met in college for 5 years. Her mom just discovered last year, and she is like on a warpath to break up the relationship. Why? Because 1) he’s short (and the genetic implications of this for progeny disturbs her) and 2) his family has no money. Meanwhile, he treats my cousin very well, and obviously, five years later, something is there. Not good enough. So just to clarify: she’d rather sacrifice the happiness of her own daughter for the future good life of her unborn grandchild. See what I have to deal with? This is the kind of old school, provincial mentality that just drives me nuts. And even if it’s so incredibly off the wall, exposure to it, even for a few days, wears on me. My aunt got super upset when I tried to argue that it’s her daughter’s choice and rejecting someone because he’s short (my height: 5’5″ or 160 cm) is ludicrous. She’s even going to have my dad talk to my cousin to put some “sense” into her. Unbelievable. And that’s the way they roll over here. My only hope is that the situation boils down to the talk with uncle vs. 5 established years of dating. It shouldn’t even come close. Don’t disappoint me, cousin.

I was just cleaning out my email and guess what I found from last week? This email excerpt was timestamped Thursday, April 29 at 10:21 a.m.

in other news, john and i have started house hunting… it’s going slowly because we’re commitment-phobes. imagine that. plus can’t buy shit for $700k. but it’s fun moguling and checking out staged homes.

Little did I know, six hours later, John would drive down from the city to view the house for possible consideration of putting in an offer. Exactly, 12 hours later, we would sit in my realtor’s office and draft the offer.

I guess every now and then, we make these spur-of-the-moment decisions (e.g. moving to Shanghai). So far, we haven’t been burned yet. Life is good to us.

Several years ago, I toyed with the idea of becoming a realtor. Since my parents love to mogul, in the very least, this was a skill/expertise that could come in extremely handy for the family. But after looking over all the materials and certifications, I decided it all sounded too laborious and tedious. And in many ways, I saw myself coming up short: like I didn’t quite have the gregarious/salesperson personality for the job… Yeah, I could probably handle the tedious stuff pretty well but talking to strangers? Ugh. Still, if I were a realtor, let me tell you, I found my realtor alter ego. My realtor is my latest BFF. Seriously, this woman is on the ball. Super prepared, very thorough, and she asks lots of questions, noting our needs, our wants, pros, and cons. And she lines shit up and coordinates things like nobody’s business.

Realistically, John and I had been “researching” housing in this area for well over a year. Frankly, going to open houses had almost become a hobby for us. Like my/our fascination with Stacy and Clinton, we were just continually amazed by how “put together” these people’s spaces were. Or at least, how incredibly polished the work of these stagers/interior decorators could be! These setups blew me away! Yeah, like world-class art collections at MoMA and the Prado rarely elicit any effect but this shit?

Like I said, we’d been looking rather casually for a long time. Then my parents visited at the end of March/early April, and we started working with our hardcore realtor. In a few weeks, we clocked in DAYS learning about the process, the documents, evaluating homes, locations, etc. We never intended to buy before May 1. Sure, dad kept reminding us of the federal and state tax credits but whatever, we were commitment-phobes. Plus, we liked our big nest egg. It allowed for freedom in an entirely different way, for example, John’s 10-month hiatus.

Then on April 29, I toured five properties in South Bay. I don’t know how this happened, but somehow, our price range now enabled us to purchase a single-family home instead of a condo. What a huge fucking difference, especially given our run-ins with home owners’ associations in Virginia AND in California. We were fed up with their bullshit! Long story short, John drove down after work on Thursday to see a home I thought could work. And just like that, we put in an offer at midnight. Yup, that’s the way we roll: resist, resist, resist, then bam! Buy it NOW and on the LAST POSSIBLE DAY!

Interestingly, the owners are an interracial couple: Chinese (American?) woman + Caucasian man. They divorced last year and had intended to put the home up for sale in the winter, but moving stuff out took longer than usual. So, the property didn’t go to market until late March. Meanwhile, it sat vacant…

I couldn’t help but wonder about the owners, who they were, how their relationship had evolved, and why it had ended. The guy had moved to the city; the woman had moved back east. This property was just dragging things on for them.

The day before us, another party had submitted an offer. The owners submitted a counter-offer. We then squeezed in OUR offer. John and I agreed to bid, but after we submitted the docs, we were nervous and uncertain and regretful as hell. The next day (April 30), I awoke with a major stomach ache. When I headed into work, I convinced myself that there was no way we would beat out the other party. The owners would simply sign, and we’d be out (and free again)! On the other hand, John had a feeling we would get it. Shortly after noon, my realtor called to congratulate us. I think even she was surprised they accepted, because we had offered significantly less than their asking price. But like I said, in a weird way, the owners’ marital misfortune was our opportunity, because they were motivated to have all this shit over and done.

As soon as our realtor broke the news, I was in shock. Like omfg, are you serious? What the hell have I done? We’re not even fixer uppers and the place doesn’t have a maxed out kitchen, which was one of our top 5 wants! It was crazy. I didn’t feel good about it at all. But later that day, I went by the house again and slowly, I accepted. Since then, I’ve gone to the house every day. And thankfully, we are both loving it more and more.

And I am so thankful my realtor is on the ball. She’s got meetings lined up this week with contractors to give us estimates on the work we want done, ideas on how to do it; I’m meeting a freaking interior designer too! Would be great to start fresh. I want it to look like HGTV! Is that so much to ask?

Actually, now John and I are really stressing. We don’t have ideas. We just know from a line-up what we like, but we could never verbalize or come up with creative ideas on how we want to do shit. I mean, windows, flooring, the fireplace facade… I don’t fucking know. Wall colors, rug colors… yup. This is going to be a shitload of work. And on top of that, we’re having to get all our shit in gear for closing, we’re going to Taiwan next month, AND then we’re going to have to move. Holy fuck, right?

Yes, we’re excited. But we’re also apprehensive and stressed. I need to start reclaiming control immediately. Yes, I have started packing already. Well, what do you expect? I need to effing downsize. Seriously. No games this time. This is another chance to be the minimalist I’ve always wanted to be. Fingers crossed.

OMFG. Pollen counts are currently through the roof! Consequently, I have not breathed through my nose in the last three weeks. And I am all jacked up on Zyrtec and Flonase. Wtf! Burning eyes, swollen nose, itchy face… Fucking A. Thankfully, there was a cancellation, and I am going to see the Ear Nose Throat doctor tomorrow. I mean, already I have seen the family practitioner, an allergist (twice), and you know what? It’s now time for the big guns. Seriously. I cannot live like this. It’s screwing up my productivity, not to mention cramping my style. Who can be seen in public with a swollen nose? I feel like a goddamn elephant seal. Ok fine. Enough groaning. I’m just sayin’.

Anyway, in other news, after my parents left, John and I jetted to Atlanta the very next day. I was in town for a tech conference that was– as always– so energizing and inspiring. I learned so much in the three days. Outside of the sessions, John and I walked around downtown in search of tasties, and we spent a couple hours at the world’s largest aquarium. Super impressive. Yeah, ticket prices were definitely steep, but that 6.3-million gallon tank containing 4 whale sharks is pretty damn cool. Good times. I came back and cranked out a shitload of Yelp reviews for ATL. The bummer about the conference? No Anderson Cooper sighting, damnit. Some friends insist he is gay, but like I said, he has never confirmed either way. In other words, shut the hell up and let me have my fantasy encounter. As an AC stalker on Twitter informed me, he’s actually based in NYC. Well fuck.

So this week, I’m back at work feeling ready to take on new challenges. I already have a million ideas floating in my head. I had a meeting with the head head honcho today– it went ok. The one thing I can’t stand about my workplace? Conservatism, fear, and stodginess. Seriously. And I don’t mean political conservatism. I mean that they are so damn out-of-touch and out-of-date. Like telecommuting is still a novel concept. Really? In 2010? Like we aren’t even debating true telecommuting… we’re still stuck on the VPN sub-policy. The biggest concern? People will log in and their kids will hop on the computer and delete agency files. Give me a fucking break. The insane level of fear is so damn paralyzing. It really is painful to observe. And unfortunately, it only exacerbates those stereotypes about government workers. Ugh.

Ok well I’m drifting off to sleep now. More this weekend hopefully.

Omg, I am so freaking tired. Parents came in Wednesday morning. I worked from home after picking them up at the airport. Thursday, I went to work. Friday, I took the day off. I had forgotten that yesterday was Good Friday, so we went to the California Academy of Sciences and omfg, it was like entering a Chuck E. Cheese. Holy shit, there are a lot of kids. I have no idea where they all came from… And people aren’t just having like one kid. They are having like 3+. Seriously, I saw several women lugging around 3 little ones each. Honestly, is life so boring and unstimulating that kids are needed to crank things up ten notches? I mean, a double stroller, a baby sack, monster diaper bags. Insane. Why?

The museum was a frickin’ mad house. I mean, sure, nice, “innovative” museum with some unusual exhibits but way. too. crowded. We were in and out in 1:45. Would I recommend the museum to others? Sure, why not. But only in the middle of the week. Otherwise, just watch Life or Planet Earth in HD. Way more comfortable and probably even more compelling and informative.

Long story short, yesterday was all rush, rush. After the museum (damn, SF was drizzly, windy, and cold!), we hit a dim sum place in Millbrae. Flower Court or something. Place was so damn packed, they only offered valet parking. Rip off. And the food wasn’t even that good! I hate dim sum. So overrated, and who gets full on tray after tray of just bite-sized morsels. I know, I’m sounding like a cantankerous geezer now. I’m just sayin’, dim sum is lame.

After lunch, we then scurried down to Mountain View to check out some properties with a realtor. Saw four places. Two were pretty nice but after all was said and done, John and I still didn’t feel compelled to give up our current rental to buy a newer place that lacked a yard, a pool/hot tub, and next door park access. But we found an agent who seems totally on the ball, so at least that’s a good thing.

After 2.5 hours with the realtor, we headed farther south yet– down to San Jose. I know, who ever goes that far south, right? Met up with my parents’ friends who used to live in Frederick like 25 years ago. Yeah, was a crazy reunion. The last time I’d seen these folks, I was probably 7 years old. Ancient history, man. It was the weirdest thing though, being in their house. It was so characteristically Chinese. I can’t even explain– it’s just that sometimes, when you step into a home, you just know Chinese people live there. It’s a certain kind of decoration, the slipper cabinet at the door, the chaotic placement of things… Is it fair to say that the Pottery Barn/Crate and Barrel look is characteristically American? I mean, everything just always has to go, you know? Every time I enter my American friends’ homes, there’s just such Martha Stewart perfectionism. I dunno how people do it, really. It must be exhausting making a perfect home. Anyway, yesterday was a long day.

Today, thankfully, the weather warmed and dried a bit. We took mom to the farmer’s market this morning. Then the Chinese market. More seafood. I made Vietnamese spring rolls for lunch, and dad kept asking where the meat was (uh, they’re salad rolls– get over it). As if giving me a compliment, he said, “Well at least I finished it.” Gee thanks. You ate one vegetarian plate. Let me give you a medal. My dad is a goof.

In other news, John has hung around home most of today… waiting for his iPad to arrive via UPS. He must have checked UPS tracking every 5 minutes. They made him wait until 4, but now he’s getting the thing all set up. Completely enthralled by his latest toy.

I finally replaced my laptop battery… the original had lasted about 4 years, and then it was starting to cause random shut-downs and blue screens. I went for a generic replacement. So far, so good, but the true test remains to be seen. Hope the blue screens finally go away.

I spoke to my paternal grandfather the other day. He’s sounding a lot older than I remember. I’m trying now to arrange a quick trip back to Taiwan in May. I’m such a vacation hoarder, but I’m afraid about waiting too long… Ek, too much going on.

Wow, so apparently, now that my blog migration is complete, it seems I’ll be writing a new post every few days. Lucky for you… Nah seriously, I can just feel an entire truckload of issues piling up. Perhaps it’s the end of the quarter. Or maybe I’m just fucking due for a third quarter-life crisis… is that even possible? Oh fuck, that’s right: I’m 33. Guess calling it a quarter-life crisis is far too euphemistic. So fine, third-life crisis. It’s time.

The thing is, I spent a lot of time online the past several days. Yeah I know, aren’t I already online 24/7? True but what I’m trying to say is, I spent many hours reading about other people’s lives. This guy I knew in Shanghai. He’s a writer. He’s getting a book published. His wife is a superstar corpo. They have 2 adorable mutts, and they live in the French Concession in Shanghai. They document their lives with writings and with gorgeous photos. I wish I were them. I wish I had photos to document such a rich and vibrant and luscious life, but I don’t. I take crapass photos and I also look insincere or deformed in my photos. Seriously, you have no idea how many hours I have spent trying to “learn” how to be photogenic. My conclusion? It cannot be learned by me. My face just isn’t shaped right.

Then the other day on twitter, I came across a travel blogger. Not even 30 years old, she has traveled the world four times over. And she had turned her passion into her job. She’s a perpetual observer, learner, traveler. I wish I were her.

Last night, I got a LinkedIn update about someone I knew in Shanghai. She had been a “tai tai” until her boyfriend of eight years left her. Then, she moved to Hong Kong, and now a mere four years later, she is running her very own PR company. Her site has all kinds of crazy pictures of swanky parties, fashion events, celebs. Uber posh. How fucking glamorous and thrilling to run your own successful company and wine/dine with beautiful people at fancy places in HK? I want to be a hipster corpo too! Man, maybe I’ve been watching too much Entourage. I’m just sayin’…

“You can be whatever/whoever you want to be.” Is that really true? Does that really apply? I mean, aren’t some people just destined to live safe, boring lives? Sure, some might argue that John and I up and left for Shanghai back in 2003. We were adventurers. True, but god, that was six years ago. What have I done in the last year that has even moderately impresses myself? or that convinces me that I am alive and not going through the motions? Ugh, it’s so difficult not to sound like a spoiled brat. I know I am surrounded by love but still, I find myself wondering: is there more? These people who trigger my insecurities… certainly, they are happy. How could they not be?

What’s it going to take?