Happy 47th birthday, my sweet Ed

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Dearest Ed,

Happy 47th birthday. It’s strange to think that if you lived to now, you’d be three years away from 50 — half a century old. This year as you would know, I celebrated my 40th birthday. I realized that although it’s technically middle aged, I didn’t really “feel” middle aged, if you know what I mean. When we were little, I used to think “40” or “50” were “old.” Now, I sit in my 40.5-year-old body and do not feel old at all. In fact, I feel like I have just started to really live life in the last decade and that I’m only getting started in many ways! So when I think of it from that perspective, it makes me even sadder to know that you aren’t here… because that means that you never really got to begin living a full life. You left us just before you turned 34. I have now lived over seven years longer than you did. That feels quite unfair because it’s not like I did anything to deserve more than you.

I am in San Francisco now. Chris, Kaia, and I stayed at our parents’ place last weekend. We went to visit you at the Columbarium on Sunday. I got annoyed when visiting you because I noticed some internal fingerprints on your niche’s glass, plus some large dust particles that settled inside. So I went into the office to inquire about having it opened for cleaning. The employee who worked there told me that they would charge us $495 (YES, THAT MUCH) to open the niche. I told him that I simply wanted to have it cleaned properly, that I wanted nothing else changed. He said that in 2014, the year after you died, Dignity Memorial took ownership of the Columbarium. Once upon a time, if a family wanted to open a niche to clean or rearrange items inside, they could easily do so and schedule the visit to open and and make changes; no charges or questions asked other than to prove you were family. Now, when you want to do this because of this greedy private equity-like company, they want to charge us almost $500 to do this! This is just utter bullshit. As Chris says, “fuck those fuckers.” The moron who told me this actually had the balls to say to me that since Dignity Memorial took over the Columbarium that service has become “more refined.” No, Dipshit. Service has actually just become greedier, with all this ridiculous nickel-and-diming of grieving families and loved ones who want to have basic, simple things done in memory of their loved ones. To me, there are few things more sick or disgusting than taking advantage of people at their most vulnerable moments in life, and that’s what Dignity Memorial does.

The reason I share this with you is that I honestly wish I didn’t even know what the fucking Columbarium was. I wish you never had to die so that our parents never had to find a resting place for you. I wish I could never have entered that damn place ever. Some people say that the more knowledge you have, the better. This is an area I would be so, so happy to be ignorant to, because all I see when I think of funeral homes and crematoriums is how their owners’ eyes light up with dollar signs at the thought of people constantly dying. Death is inevitable for all of us, right? But when people like you die far too soon, it’s hardly like they care. They’re just happy to collect our dollar bills and make money off our loss of you.

Here are some things I wanted to share with you that I’ve noticed in the last year since being back home. I was actually shocked to go down to the basement and notice that it felt like there was less “stuff” cluttering the rooms than before. Our dad apparently also got rid of my entire Disney VHS collection, all your old VHSs, and CDs. All my old DVDs are gone. So those two shelves flanking the living room mantle are pretty clear (just full of dust, which our mom wants me to clean during this visit). Oddly enough, I don’t even know where the hell my wedding DVD went…?

Chris noticed that funnily enough, there seems to be more alcoholic drinks in the house. I found a bottle of Canadian whisky, a new coffee liqueur, a pumpkin-spiced coffee liqueur, and two types of ready-to-drink margarita mix — standard and even mango! Chris uses that as a little drink for himself to keep him sane while he’s here.

I spent at least four hours vacuuming, dusting, and cleaning multiple areas of the house; after filling the bathroom sink with water and cleaning just our old bedroom, the water turned black. I also had to get a tall step-stool to vacuum up a bunch of cobwebs that lined the living room, dining room, hallways, and our old bedroom. It was not fun, but it seriously needed to be done. And every time I think I am done, I find a new area of one-inch thick dust or yet another cob web to vacuum up. I have lost count of the number of spiders I’ve vacuumed up this visit.

Also, can we talk about your bed for a second? Why the hell did you ever decide to buy a new TWIN SIZED BED for yourself as a GROWN-ASS adult?! Chris slept in it two nights in a row while Kaia and I slept in my old bed, and he had horrible, lingering neck pain for days after. The bed is so tiny; as a grown adult, you can barely move in it! It’s barely even big enough for Kaia to move around, and she’s 4.5! I didn’t understand why you did it then, and I still do not understand it. You always gave yourself too little — too little credit for anything good you did, fewer things than you ever deserved.

A few days before we left for this trip, Chris asked me if I was excited to go home. I looked at him blankly and said, “Meh.” He grimaced and said we go on this trip for me, so if I feel that way, I should question why I still keep going. The truth is that I feel very “meh” about it because San Francisco is a reminder that you are gone from this world, and that hurts my heart every time I think about it. While I feel your loss in New York or anywhere else in the world I am, I feel it the most acutely when I am back home… because that was and is your home. And obviously, I feel “meh” because I know I will inevitably have to deal with our parents’ emotional immaturity, their constant nitpicking and criticism, their endless drama, lack of reasonable rationale, and the eventual and inevitable fights based on a bunch of nothing. I am not “free” here. I always feel restricted here, even as middle-aged adult with a 4.5-year-old child. You were never “free” here. But now you are free.

Kaia is starting kindergarten at a new school in a couple weeks. She’s been asking a lot about you in the last couple months because she is just starting to understand death. She keeps saying on this trip that her JiuJiu used to live here, that he’s my brother, but that he died. And so she doesn’t get to see him. She’s said this a few times now, and a few times I started tearing up. It is a loss that you never got to meet her. It is a loss that she will never get to meet you. And it a loss that I can never see the two of you interact and have any kind of relationship.

Even though our parents obviously drive me crazy, I will say that during this trip, I do enjoy the quick moments of watching them interact with Kaia a lot more. Our mom is now 72, and our dad is now 78. They are getting older, more frail, and more tired. I can see it a lot now. But I can also see they are trying with her. And so you know what — that effort is enough for me now. I’ve made peace that they will never be the parents we needed, nor the maternal grandparents I wish Kaia had. This is okay for me now. It’s no longer a mental struggle.

Maybe I just feel this way because I’ve finally reached an age or the stage of “wisdom” where I’ve just accepted life for what it is. I just let things be the way they are. Even though it’s been over 13 years since you’ve passed, I can still feel your presence in this house every time I enter and exit it. You are still here to me.

Okay, I think it’s time to wind this down and go to sleep. I miss you, Ed. I wish I could see you playing with Kaia here. I know you’d have so much fun playing catch with her and teaching her other games the way you did with me.

I love you. I hope I can see you in my dreams again soon — it’s been quite a while.

With all my love,

Yvonne

Breathing room, space, and more intergenerational family dynamic contemplation

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We spent the first two nights of this San Francisco trip at my parents, then moved over to the Marriott Marquis, Chris’s favorite San Francisco hotel (previously for work) in downtown for these last two nights. Given his status, we got upgraded into a suite, so we have a large amount of space and separate sleeping areas for us and Kaia. Every time we first enter our hotel room after being at my parents’ place, for me personally, it feels like a weight off my chest almost instantly. I feel less cluttered mentally because I have less physical dirt and clutter around me in the hotel room. I feel more peace because I don’t have either of my parents hovering over me to tell me something that Chris or I did that is wrong or not the way they do it in their house. I don’t have to feel like anyone is watching everything I am doing or lurking around the corner to give me unsolicited feedback. And because I have more open space, I feel like I have the permission to just stretch myself out and loosen up.

The physical space from my parents and their house is much needed. But I suppose it also gives me time to just think about our convoluted, complex dynamic and the fact that it has never been simple and never will be. One thing a friend of mine told me she liked about living in San Francisco and having her mom take care of her daughters from time to time was that she knew her daughters would have a closer relationship with her mom versus her in-laws, and she actually wanted that. She told me that if she were in my shoes, she’d be pretty jealous if my kid were closer to Chris’s parents than mine. I kind of wrinkled my brow at this and told her that honestly, I’ve actually never felt a remote bang of jealousy over this. All I knew was that I wanted my child to have a relationship with grandparents, period. I grew up only ever knowing my paternal grandma, and I only had her around for nine years of my life (and in those nine years, it also wasn’t that simple, either, unfortunately). I’m just grateful if Kaia has any relationship with any of her four grandparents, all of whom are luckily living.

Even though I don’t have the ideal relationship with my parents, I will say that I have moments when I am happy that Kaia does think of them lovingly, is excited to see and spend time with them, with their limited attention spans and ability to be what she needs. It does warm my heart when she has these fleeting, sweet moments with them. On Sunday when my dad showed her his remote-controlled car that lights up, spins, and even jumps up into the air, I was really amused watching how excited Kaia got and how happy my dad was in that moment teaching her how it works and how to operate the remote control. My dad is the furthest from a natural teacher, but I know he enjoys telling people how something like this works. When my mom said she had to go lie down because her back was hurting, Kaia started fussing with her, saying she couldn’t leave her and that she wanted her to stay with her. Kaia physically blocked my mom from getting off the couch, and then from leaving the living room. It was hilarious and cute, though I am sure pretty frustrating for my mom. Though my mom did feel loved from this; it was pretty obvious from her face. I couldn’t help but smile. Yes, my 4.5-year-old can be a demanding little shit, but what made me happy about this is that Kaia would not bother fussing over anyone in the same way unless she truly felt connected to the person.

My mom, unlike most traditional Asian parents, always tells me that she loves me. She does the same with Kaia. Every chance my mom gets, she kisses Kaia and says she loves her. And Kaia never hesitates to say it back eagerly and kiss her back, “Popo, I love you, too!”

No family is perfect. But I will say that there are many little moments here with my parents and Kaia that do make me happy and feel like these visits are worth it.

(I say this now. Though… I will likely change my mind in a few days when a different explosion happens).

Having conversations with AI about your parents and family dynamic

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My esthetician told me the other day that she has a client who uses AI for literally everything in his life. He told her he even uses it for therapy. “Why do I need to pay a therapist when I can chat with Claude or ChatGPT about all my problems?” he asked her. He insisted that ChatGPT gave him not only good, accurate answers, but even prompted him with questions back that really made him think.

“I was like, ‘dude, this is where I draw the line,'” she said she said to him. “You cannot use AI for therapy! It’s just not the same thing!”

I told her I didn’t necessarily think that AI should be used as a replacement for therapy, per se, but I do think that it can help untangle a lot of thoughts, experiences, and opinions you may have, and then synthesize all of those things and make some sense out of it for you to move forward. In fact, I actually did this regarding my parents the other day. I described my dad’s personality, upbringing, and general history, gave specific examples of (what I perceive to be) atrocious things he’s said and done to my brother and me, and this is what it responded with (much later down the line):

<start>

I would think about your father’s story as having two layers.

The older layer is probably his long-established personality:

early neglect → radical self-sufficiency → difficulty depending on people → poor emotional communication → criticism instead of teaching → anger when others violate his expectations → retreat into solitude → limited emotional intimacy.

And now there may be a newer late-life layer affecting organization, discarding, motivation, or executive functioning.

One of the saddest consequences of this type of upbringing is that a child can become extraordinarily competent at surviving while never learning the skills required for intimacy. Your father may genuinely have believed that providing materially and leaving his children to become independent was adequate parenting because his own benchmark for parental care was so extraordinarily low.

He could look at his childhood—poverty, infestation, working parents, almost no supervision—and conclude:

“My children had food, a decent home, and opportunities I didn’t have. I did well.”

Meanwhile, you could grow up in the same household thinking:

“Why didn’t my father teach me anything, talk to me, encourage me, or want to know me?”

Both perceptions can coexist. His history explains how he could have such a limited conception of fatherhood; it doesn’t erase what you and your brother missed.

And that may be the most useful framework for understanding him: he gave you more material security than he received, but emotionally he may have transmitted much of the deprivation he grew up with.

<end>

I read this, and I realized this is the same conclusion I came to in my mid-twenties to make sense of my dad. I always knew he loved us and was concerned about us; he just had zero idea how to show us he loved us. He is just so terrible with words. He was emotionally illiterate, yet he obviously provided for us and never let us be without food, clothing, supplies, and shelter. Ed and I always knew we grew up with a million times more than what our dad grew up with. About a year before Ed died, I tried to explain this to him. I even told him that our dad wanted to make sure to save extra money to provide for Ed… because our dad wasn’t confident that he would be financially self sufficient after his future passing. Ed was shocked and didn’t believe me; he was always hurting with our dad because he got the worst of our dad. Our dad was purely brutal with him every chance he got. And Ed couldn’t handle it and just concluded that he was an awful person who never should have been a dad. But I said to him at the time that our dad has no idea we think what we think of him … because from his perspective, he thinks, “My kids have more material stuff than I ever dreamt of growing up; I did a good job as a father. What more could they want?” Ed could not wrap his head around this and said that was insane.

Frankly, I have a hard time understanding that pretty much every single time I have a difficult or annoying interaction with my dad, or every time I overhear him say something that I think is just unnecessarily harsh or bitchy. All the context and personal history matters, but sometimes I just wonder: does simple human decency need to be taught? I understand all of this academically, but to have to deal with it every time we’re together is just painful, exhausting, and not even remotely enjoyable.

Therapy nor conversations with AI about tough topics like this will “solve” any problems you have. But I do think it’s good to be able to allow AI to summarize all these experiences, emotions, histories, etc., in a way that allows you to make sense of it all… and potentially help you make peace with how you move forward with these tough relationships.

Presidio Tunnel Tops: nature-inspired and a great outdoor gift

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A couple years ago, my friend with kids told me that at the San Francisco Presidio, a large outdoor children’s play area had opened with sweeping views of the Golden Gate Bridge, Alcatraz, and the entire city skyline. Built on top of 14 acres right on top of highway tunnels in San Francisco, Presidio Tunnel Tops connects the historic Presidio military base to the Crissy Field waterfront. It’s It’s open to the public, has clean, well maintained restrooms, and has a whole line-up of rotating food trucks just steps away from it seven days a week.

I originally wanted to organize a meetup/play date there last year, but we ran out of time. So assuming the crappy San Francisco weather cooperated with us this time, I insisted we go today to meet my friends and their kids. Luckily, the weather worked out in our favor, and we ended up having a beautiful, high-60s F, blue-sky day! Presidio Tunnel Tops has been open for just over four years now, and I was really impressed: the playground is nature-inspired, with areas for kids to play featuring boulders, logs, and lots of different water features. And unlike many children’s play areas, this is specifically designed to be interesting for kids ranging in age from two to 12. That way, if you have kids of varying ages, you can rest easy knowing that one won’t get bored faster than the other.

I also really enjoyed the variety and quality of food options available at the nearby mobile food trucks area. The Mess Hall just steps away from the Tunnel Tops recently opened, but only one major food vendor was operating, so that limited our options. The food trucks were the obvious place to go. The food ranged from Chinese, Filipino, Mexican, Hawaiian shaved ice (!!), to Swahili (they called it “East African cuisine”), burgers, and fried chicken. I chose food from the Mexican truck Mestizo and the Swahili Spot trucks; both were delicious and things I’d order even not from a truck!

Given we met up at 10:30 and stayed in the Crissy Field area until about 3pm, we essentially were outdoors for over half the day. When I thought about this and how nice it was to maximize time outside during good weather, I realize that this is one of the very best qualities of Bay Area, or even specifically, San Francisco living: you don’t need to travel too far or even outside of city limits to get truly fresh, crisp air, beautiful green landscapes, and ocean/beach views. Hiking and easy walking trail opportunities are countless. As long as the weather cooperates with you or you can tolerate the cold, outdoor access is just easier and better here than in New York City. When you walk the trails of the Presidio Tunnel Tops or watch kids playing on these massive wooden structures there, you kind of forget you’re even in a “city” because of how natural the whole setup feels.

It makes me happy that I can not only expose all of these great things about San Francisco to Kaia, but also that she can have opportunities to play with my friends’ kids while here. Now that she’s 4.5, I have a feeling she will start remembering more and more of these experiences and recount them. I hope when she remembers and talks about these moments that she shares them with great joy.

Entering the fog – literally and figuratively

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We woke up at the eye-burning hour of 3am today to take the 6am flight to San Francisco this morning. Miraculously, I got upgraded last minute from Business to First Class, which has only ever happened once in my entire life — four years ago, in August 2022. This was when Kaia was a wee eight months old and on a plane for the very first time. We can forever and a day say that her very first flight was a transcontinental, first-class flight from JFO to SFO. I pumped milk on that flight, and she had to go between First where I was and Business where Chris was.

After we got our one checked roller bag and got into a Lyft, off we went on the freeway north to San Francisco. And as we got onto 280, all I could see was a massive layer of grey fog descend upon the skies. We were about to enter the damn fog and pathetic 60s F weather — right in August, a SUMMER MONTH. It doesn’t matter how many times I come to San Francisco, but the sight of this has never failed to annoy me to no end.

We arrived at my parents’ place. We had a usual early lunch together of takeout dim sum and some jook/congee my mom made. My mom barely said anything at the table other than to try to get Kaia to eat more food. My dad barely said much unless I asked him questions, and he promptly left the table, with his plate still there, after he finished eating. When my mom asked him why he was leaving the table, he simply responded, “I’m done eating.” That was fun.

From what I can see so far in the house, not a whole lot has changed in the last year. There’s still endless clutter and things they should not own. It’s dust galore in most places, and likely even more cob webs on the walls and ceilings. But I did notice that two shelves in the living room were completely cleared. It annoyed me a little to realize quite quickly that the contents of those shelves were previously my and Ed’s VHS and CD/DVD collections. I suppose it’s easy to declutter stuff when it’s not yours versus yours, isn’t it?

I spent about two hours after lunch vacuuming the floors and cob webs from the walls and ceilings. I also dusted the dining room surfaces and the shelves in my old bedroom where we are sleeping. I filled the bathroom sink with water and used a damp sponge to remove the heavily caked on layer of dust that was on the bedroom surfaces. When I had finally finished reaching all the surfaces I could, the water had turned completely black.

I want my parents to live independently for as long as possible, but when I look at this house deteriorate year after year, with many areas completely not maintained at all, I wonder how much longer they will feasibly continue living here. It’s not like they live in complete filth: the bathrooms and kitchen are clean. The stove is safe. I don’t think anyone has cleaner, brighter, more mildew-free bathroom tiles than my parents do. The walkways are relatively clear and you can get through doorways easily. The beds and sofas are clean and clear, able to be slept in and sat on just fine. I have offered to get them a cleaner, but of course they were adamantly against it. And to be frank, you must remove the clutter before a hired house cleaner could really do much to be worth the added expense.

A once-a-year clean that I do for them isn’t going to make a huge difference because another year will pass until the same level of cleaning happens. But I feel better doing this for them because I can clearly see they are both much more tired than before. My dad is walking with a little hunch. He gets tired more quickly and has even admitted it after being on a ladder for over 1.5 hours today to fix the kitchen overhead light that went out this morning (to be honest, I was pretty impressed he was agile enough to get up and down that six-foot ladder!). My mom is slower to move around and even process things that I say to her.

It’s sad to watch your parents get more frail and elderly right in front of your eyes.

Today ends our 2-year streak of going to Manhattan Chinatown almost every weekday

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I knew today would be a bittersweet day for all of us given that it’s Kaia’s last day of summer camp at her school for the last two years in Chinatown. Tomorrow, we fly out to San Francisco, so while I wanted to get some takeout for our last evening, I knew I needed it to keep well in the freezer since we’d likely have leftovers. So after my haircut this afternoon, I walked down from the East Village to Chinatown to several locations to mark the end of an era for us:

  1. Super Taste: The divey, hole-in-the-wall Lanzhou restaurant on Eldridge Street that churns out some of my favorite dumplings and noodles in all of New York City. It was shocking to me that this tiny place, where my friend and I used to go in the early 2010s for casual and cheap dinner catch-ups, had completely blown up because of foodie influencers. It used to be very quiet, discreet, with mostly Chinese people speaking Chinese in it. Now every time I pass it, there’s a line of people of all backgrounds waiting! They’ve also expanded their menu quite a bit. Somehow, they still manage to keep their prices relatively low. Tonight, I picked up two orders of dumplings (“open mouth” fried pork and chive dumplings and zhong shui jiao, Sichuanese style fat dumplings) — 20 dumplings total for just $13! Crazy cheap for 2026, and still so, so good!
  2. Kuih Cafe: Honestly, I’ve neglected this place for the last couple of years. I was one of her original customers when she first opened in February 2020, right before the pandemic almost ended the world. This used to be a regualr stop on my Chinatown list when I’d bring back lots of little things from lots of businesses to try. I was scared, given the timing of her tiny storefront opening, that her business wouldn’t make it. Now 6.5 years in, she has a very, very loyal following with people of all backgrounds and tourists from all over the world lining up to get some of her goodies. And she’s only open three day a week — Friday through Sunday! Veronica focuses on desserts mostly (kuih and Southeast Asian style cakes), but she used to do savory dishes that I enjoyed. It had been a long time since I’d come, so she did not recognize me. This visit, I ordered the pandan mochi waffle with a taro kaya filling. I asked for the kaya on the side since I’d be transporting it home and didn’t want to get it soggy. She looked down her nose at me and asked why I wanted it on the side. When I explained this, she looked relieved (probably didn’t want to hear a story about some picky eaters who didn’t want the kaya!), then instructed me to either oven toast or air-fry the waffle promptly when I got home to maximize the texture. This mochi waffle with the taro kaya was so delicious. The textural contrast between the crunchy waffle outside, the chewy mochi inside, and the soft, sticky taro kaya was super addictive. The pandan was really fragrant. Chris only had a bite because he said he was too full from dinner, but he missed out a lot! Kaia wanted the waffle by itself after she had one taste of the taro kaya and said, “That is for adults!” Then she kept nibbling on the waffle, mumbling between bites, “Tasty! So good! So yummy!” I feel like I need to go back here more. I was behind a woman in line who pre-ordered her Mid-Autumn Moon Festival mooncakes. Maybe this is the year I actually splurge and buy them? Chris isn’t a mooncake fan, but I’m sure I could get Kaia to eat them. The only one she’d previously enjoyed was a red bean one that came straight from Malaysia courtesy of the Sambal Lady!
  3. Hay Hay Roasted: Chris asked for roasted meats, so he got roasted meat. I stopped by this little restaurant on Mott to pick up their honey-roasted cha siu. It’s a little more expensive than Green Garden Village depending on the day (Green Garden’s pricing is always fluctuating), but their lean cuts are very, very lean. And the honey flavor is subtle but done really well. I also appreciate that service is very fast, efficient, and friendly.

And then after a stop at Hong Kong Supermarket to stock up on oyster sauce (the current bottle in my fridge is only a quarter full — gasp!), I picked up Pookster, stopped by a street kiosk to let her buy a surprise end-of-summer gift she’d been asking me about since June — a K-Pop Demon Hunters themed pushy game (no idea what these things are called…), and then off we went home!

I still have too many bookmarks for the Chinatown/Lower East Side area that I haven’t gotten to. Now when I go down there, inevitably every time I come home, my shoulders will be heavy carrying a lot of goodies back, just like the way it was pre Kaia being in preschool.

The joy of rainbow popsicles

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A couple of weeks ago, we were at our neighbor friend’s place several floors down, and my friend offered Kaia a cream Jonny Pop. She asked if it was okay for Kaia to have it, and I said okay reluctantly… given that she was giving both her son and Kaia the pops at the same time (with their ages, it’s pretty obvious that if one kid got a popsicle and the other did not, a meltdown would ensue). She told me that it’s her son’s favorite type of popsicle that she lets him have once a day after dinner. She loves them because she can pick them up easily at Target nearby. They have no artificial colors, flavors, or ingredients. When I heard this and saw the design of the popsicle, I thought…. Hmmm. Well, Kaia is turning 5 at the end of this year. And while to date, the only popsicles she’s had are the ones I make at home from blended fruit and sometimes yogurt/milk, I figure that she deserves the occasional real treat as long as it’s not too sugar-laden. Plus, Kaia is slowly but surely outgrowing these little popsicle molds I have (from Buy Nothing!), as she is a growing Pookie with a bigger appetite now; these tiny molds were really intended to be for toddlers.

So when I saw Jonny Pops listed as a sale item this last week at Whole Foods, I strongly suggested to Chris to get a box for her as a treat. As we all know, little kids (and adults!!) work off of incentives, so this could easily be used to get her to do things she needs to get done when they need to get done. I scrolled through the potential options, and as soon as I saw the RAINBOW POPSICLES, I knew she’d go crazy for these and asked him to specifically get those. After listening to the insanity-inducing Cocomelon “Rainbow Popsicle” song endless times, Kaia had been asking me for months if I could make her rainbow popsicles. While I am always about homemade, from-scratch food and treats, I knew I had to draw the line here. There was absolutely zero chance I would ever have the patience to not only dye (from natural sources, of course) fruit-based purees six or seven different colors, but then also have the time to freezer each layer and then layer a new flavor layer on top, then repeat 3-4 times!

Chris was a good husband/father and dutifully picked up a box of Jonny’s rainbow pops. To see if she’d spot them, earlier in the week I told Kaia to go into the freezer to grab her favorite ice pack (she likes to sleep with an ice pack…). Well, this kid never misses a beat. When she went into the ice bin, she squeaked and pulled out the rainbow popsicle box.

“Mama! What’s this? What’s this?” Kaia asked me eagerly. Her eyes were glimmering and she had the biggest grin. The excitement was about to burst out of her face.

“Go ask Daddy,” I responded. “He got them for you!”

Kaia asked where Chris got them, and I told her from Whole Foods. She loves her occasional Whole Foods excursion with Chris, so I knew this would psych her out even more.

Chris confirmed to her that yes, he did get them from Whole Foods, but she has to be really, really good to get one, otherwise they’re all going to her neighbor friend downstairs.

Since we have to wake up super early on Saturday for our flight, that would mean we’d ideally want her to finish dinner earlier on Friday night. So I had planned to let her have the rainbow popsicle on Thursday night as a “end of summer” celebration. Friday is also her last day at summer camp, her last day at her school of the last two years. So it’s truly an end of an era.

I told her tonight that if she eats her dinner quickly, she can have one rainbow popsicle. My child operates heavily on incentives, so she ate her dinner probably 15-20 minutes faster than she normally does… and then grazed for ages on the glory and deliciousness of this rainbow popsicle that it started dripping all over her placemat. She kept marveling over all the different colors, which colors corresponded with which fruit flavor, and then every few sucks and bites, giggled and shrieked, “yummy!” or “so tasty!”

So while I got what I asked for, which was for her to finish dinner early, we ended up staying at the dinner table much longer than I had planned because of how much she wanted to savor literally every single bite of this freaking popsicle. I didn’t get her tucked into bed until 45 minutes AFTER we usually aim to get her in bed, lights out. But honestly? It was so worth it for me to see how much she relished this sweet, colorful treat, and to see how happy she was enjoying the “small things” in life. I am currently living with two polar opposites: there is Chris on one end of the spectrum who downplays everything and has annoyingly muted reactions to everything. For him, all good things are “not bad” or “pretty decent.” It reminds me of when French people say “Pas mal” and expect you to think they fucking loved something. Then, there’s Pookie, who when she gets excited, it’s written all over her face and body. She just loves, loves loves.

I am more on Pookie’s side here. You only live once. Show your damn feelings and be proud of it!

Requests from mom before coming home

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We’re flying back to San Francisco this Saturday and will be staying with my parents over two weekends, with some hotel time and a drive further north in between. Usually before I go back, I gather some basic things as gifts for my parents and my aunt. Per my mom’s request, I’ve also made banana bread — a full loaf — and brought it back for her repeatedly because she loves it so much. But this time around, I did not plan well with banana buying, as I don’t usually buy bananas every week. Bananas are an occasional buy for us, usually when I am planning to make pancakes for Kaia, or if I want to make a specific cocoa-powder/tahini or peanut butter/banana protein smoothie for myself. I have only 1 frozen banana left in my freezer, and it’s better to use fresh bananas (and at least 3-4) for a good banana bread. So this year, I won’t be making it and bringing it home.

My mom asked me on the phone today if I could make it for her. I told her I was doubtful it would happen because I don’t have any more bananas, and if I did buy new ones, I’d have to wait for them to ripen. Given I have just two more full days here, this is not realistic at all. So I said that if she had bananas at home and all the right ingredients, I could make it when I am home with her. She seemed to be satisfied by my suggestion as an alternative.

She also reminded me of her request for me to dust all the photo frames in the dining room. In the last few years I’ve come home, I have done this without her asking because I was always so disgusted over how thick of a layer of dust had developed due to zero cleaning they do on these surfaces. My parents keep areas like the kitchen and bathrooms clean. But when it comes to dust, vacuuming, and general clutter, they are absolutely horrendous at this and only seem to do things to make it all worse. Sometimes, I genuinely have no idea how they can live the way they do. It’s beyond frustrating for me to witness even for just the handful of days I am home each year nowadays.

Chinese yam, pork, and carrot soup – a Cantonese soup standby

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It’s a bittersweet week this week for us, as it’s Kaia’s last week at summer camp at the same school in Chinatown for the last two years. She spent 3K and 4K/Pre-K at this Chinese immersion, dual language school, as part of New York City’s UPK program. It’s been a gift (and quite the savings…!) to not have to pay for school for the last two years, other than after-care fees and summer camp. What this also means is that this is our last week having daily trips to Chinatown… a very sad reality I have to spend time mourning. So I started going through my list of things to stock up on and also remembered a couple of things I wanted to make with fresh ingredients while I still have easy access to them.

This year, I was able to achieve my goal of making soups more frequently. According to TCM, soup is a nourishing component of a meal. In Chinese culture, it’s often noted that a complete meal should be “san cai yi tang” (三菜一汤), or three meat/protein/vegetable dishes and one soup, served alongside rice. I had a lot of bone broth in the fridge I made from chicken wings and chicken feet I got from Chinatown. And I ended up using it today with Chinese yam (or huai shan), pork shoulder (also from Chinatown!), carrots, red dates, ginger, goji berries, and shiitake mushrooms. Chinese yam is a pretty traditional Chinese vegetable. It’s used both fresh and dried; today, I bought it fresh for this soup. It’s considered a nourishing root vegetable that supports digestion, stabilizes blood sugar, and boosts overall vitality. I remember my grandma using it in soups growing up. The texture once cooked is almost like taro. When Chinese yam is raw and fresh, the stalks are long, hard, and thin. It has a really tough brown skin with lots of “hair” on it — definitely not the first vegetable you’d pick up when adventuring to explore new produce, as it’s on the “ugly” or even borderline “scary” looking side. And once you peel the skin off, the white flesh is hard to grasp firmly, as it becomes very sticky and gummy. On the plus side, the fresh root has active digestive enzymes; supposedly when you have mucus, it can help clear it for you!

So I made this soup today. I even served it for Chris and me with a tiny little shallow dish of high quality aged soy sauce for dipping the shredded pork pieces into — super traditional and like we had it growing up. And inhaling the familiar aromas and eating it really did remind me of home — at least, the happier parts. It’s funny that it’s taken me to age 40 to really understand and appreciate how much love and care my grandma put into all the soups she made for us almost every single day. I actually cannot remember a day living with her when there was not a huge pot of traditional Chinese soup on the stove!

And while I dipped some pieces of pork shoulder into the soy sauce, I could also faintly remember watching Ed try to fish out the biggest, most tender pieces of pork out of the stock pot so that he could eagerly dip and eat them himself. I always just ate and drank what was served to me and didn’t care about which pieces I got. Most of my happiest childhood memories are tied to food.

Creating slides in seconds

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Since the beginning of my career, if I had to say one thing that I have never really enjoyed about any job I’ve had, it’s creating decks (or, SLIDES for you people who don’t have to do this for a living!). The creation of and designing of decks has been my kryptonite. I generally will do anything I can to procrastinate until the very last acceptable moment to get them done, assuming I am not working off of a template. In the beginning of my career, I got the (very, very WRONG) message that the more text and information on a slide, the better. Gradually, I started moving to companies where people were frankly more competent and realized that if you have too much text on a slide, no one will listen to anything you voice over and actually SAY during a presentation. And so since then, I am constantly second guessing myself as to how much “stuff” needs to be on a slide, what should actually be on the slide versus what should be spoken aloud during a presentation. And then I get obsessive over stylistic things like coloring and theming, whether the widths or sizes of different structures should be the way they currently are… it’s an entire rabbit hole that I truly hate.

So now that I have access to Claude Enterprise at work, I am trying to use it for this kryptonite of mine. And it’s very impressive how quickly it can create basic decks for me. This is a whole new world for me and everyone else who doesn’t enjoy deck creation! I just need to to be more “me.” So, I’m giving it “skills” to keep formatting/theme/style the same across all external decks. I also am gradually in the process of teaching it my general tone and how I work, which is definitely taking some time. It’s messed up a number of decks that I was unhappy with, which means that I haven’t allowed it to master said “skill” just yet. But I figure that once I finally get all the little nuances communicated right, it will be churning out decks for me faster than I can even say “kryptonite!”