The baby tooth that persisted… and finally fell out today

Posted on by
Reply

Dear Tooth 29,

We were together for so long, you and I. I got warned by my childhood dentist that if I were the average human, you’d stay with me and your opposite friend on the left side of my mouth, Tooth 20, until max, age 30, and then you’d both fall out. But you persisted! You never showed a smidgen of weakness or looseness… I thought that maybe, just maybe we could be together forever. Well, that was until tooth 30 decayed during pregnancy, requiring a root canal. And the root canal so close to you destabilized you, and alas, you became loose. That was in May 2022. Today is August 9, 2026. Since your foundation was destabilized, you stuck with me for another four years and three months. I kept thinking that you’d peace out sooner than that, but no, you tried to be as loyal as possible! I knew the end was coming very close when you completely uprooted on the inside of my mouth, and I could feel your teeny tiny roots sticking out every time I ran my tongue on the inside of my bite. So, I finally brushed my teeth tonight. And given you were squished in and not moving, I pushed you from the outside, and POP! Up you came! I loosened you from being wedged between the two neighboring teeth and out you came. A little blood came out, but not too much. The wound is fresh, still red, with a little hole there. But the tiring anticipation of waiting for you to finally fall out… is finally over. It was a bit anticlimactic, if I do say so myself. I had hoped that you would come out when I was in the comfort of my own home, maybe after flossing or brushing. And this is exactly what happened. A few weeks ago, I was scared that you might fall out at a work dinner — too much anxiety and stress there!

We had a long run together. I’m proud of how long you lasted. All dentists who have ever looked at my mouth feel the same. And well, Tooth 20 is still going strong, hanging out on the left side, the opposite side of my mouth from where you lived, firmly rooted in with its tiny roots in my gum tissue. I hope you will send it your best wishes to stay with me until my last breath. I really don’t need two holes in my gums, do I?

As for where you are now, I told Kaia that once you finally fell out that she’d be the first to find out and see you. And I kept my word. Chris finished reading bedtime stories to her this evening, and she asked me to come over for a good night hug and kiss. When I came over, I told her I had something interesting to show her. So I opened my mouth for Kaia to see. A big smile slowly crept over her face: “Your tooth fell out!” she whispered loudly. “Where is it?” I had you in the palm of my hand for her to see. She promptly picked you up, stared at you intently, and then tucked you under her pillow.

“My tooth!” she shrieked with joy. Well, sort of.

Now, she is wondering whether the tooth fairy will come visit her. I insisted that the tooth fairy would pay her a visit only when one of her own teeth fell out; she couldn’t lie and say this tooth was hers, even though it is a baby tooth! The tooth fairy will know!

Thanks for an amazing 40 years together. Okay, so maybe you came in when I was 1-ish year old and so we actually had 39ish years together if we had to be more precise, but the point is… thanks for sticking around for way longer than anyone thought you would. I will eternally be grateful. And Kaia is very, very grateful now to be taking good care of you under her pillow as she sleeps.

Sincerely,

Yvonne

Mourning for a version of a person that is gone

Posted on by
Reply

I was at lunch yesterday with my friend, telling her about the situation with my aunt. I told my friend that when I was little, I was obsessed with my aunt. Ultimately, my aunt is the reason that I love baking because she was the person who spent quality time in the kitchen with me. She’s the person who always proactively asked me about what I was learning in school, what I was interested in, and actually wanted to know me for me. Although my aunt is genuinely a good person and always had been, I know part of her love and interest for me was because she looked at me as the daughter she never had. She had three sons when each time, she really wanted a daughter. So I got all the cute hand sewn dresses and hand knit clothes she intended for her own. I got showered with endless girly gifts and jewelry that she would have loved for her own daughter. But once I got older, and once she came back from being away in Boston for a number of years, she was almost a different person. She officially converted to being a Jehovah’s Witness. Her main concern was the congregation and her “brothers and sisters.” And since at that time, I was a pre-teen/teen, I was changing a lot, too. At that point, I was finally seeing with greater clarity all the dysfunction in my family with eyes wide open. I also realized that at this point, she rarely wanted to acknowledge anything that was ever wrong. I could never have a deep conversation with her. Maybe it was always the case that this was impossible, but when I was in elementary school, that never would have even entered my mind given I was so young and immature. But it always made me sad that we could never have a real conversation together. It was impossible and still is impossible for us to have any meaningfully deep conversation about anything. I don’t know if she is incapable of it or if she just actively avoids it. I guess I will never know; it will always remain a mystery to me.

I told my friend all this. She paused for a while and then looked up at me and said, “Wow. Do you think that some of this frustration is because you never really allowed yourself to mourn the version of her you loved that is gone?”

I didn’t know what to say to this. I suppose I never looked at it this way. It makes sense my friend would hear it this way since she’s a deeply feeling and empathetic person. I guess my friend is partly right: my aunt and I will never have that sweet, simple relationship we had when I was a toddler, kindergartener, or elementary school-age child, where it was easy and always just about baking, having fun shopping and doing playground outings, or enjoying treats together. But as I mentioned here earlier, I am not sure she was ever capable of having a deeper, meaningful relationship with me. So this second part is not a “loss” per se, but more something I wished we could have had that we just never did and never will have.

It reminded me of what my therapist said to me when I was pregnant and due to give birth any day. She told me that I should give myself the time, permission, and grace to mourn the relationship with my mom and dad I wish I could have had, but never got to have and never will have. It’s the same with my aunt: I do wish we had a different, better, and deeper relationship than what we have now. But this will never be. And we just have to work with what we have because c’est la vie.

Unusual dreams after an annoying week

Posted on by
Reply

I told Chris the end of the aunt debacle. And he chuckled, saying that he anticipated I would have funny dreams last night as a result of all this. And well, he was right. Last night, I dreamt that I was at a hospital, watching at least half a dozen women all in labor and about to give birth. Somehow, I knew that all of them were purposely impregnated by the same creepy, cunning, and manipulative man. This guy’s intent was to spread as many of his sperm (and thus offspring) into the world as quickly as possible! And somehow, this man was so cunning that despite not being a doctor, he was posing as the obstetrician delivering every single one of these babies himself!

I was unclear what my relationship was to this man or any of these women. But I was watching all of this happen without any ability to effect any change whatsoever. So all I ended up feeling was angry, frustrated, and powerless. I guess that’s a good summary of how I feel with my aunt… and my family overall — most of the time.

The “family dinner” saga continues

Posted on by
Reply

And, it did not end with my request to not have M come over. This is what she replied with:

“Sorry, I forgot about that. Can I come with my sister (not actual sister because in the Jehovah’s Witness cultish world, every person in the congregation is a sibling) because I am staying at her house?”

This desire to invite other people to all her meals will never, ever die, even when it’s to my house. Even when the house is owned by someone else, she still wants this random extra person to come. I don’t care that this person is housing my aunt in her place; I asked for my aunt to come over to my house for dinner. Why does this have to be so hard?!

I let the text sit for a day because I was having an irritating day at work, and I really didn’t want my pissy work temperament to transfer over to my aunt. Then, I did what most seemingly logical circa-2026 people do: I told ChatGPT Pro my situation and asked it to come up with a measured, firm, direct response that wasn’t passive aggressive or mad. And this is what it came up with, which I sent:

“Hi (Auntie) – I’m really looking forward to having you over on Sunday. I planned this dinner as a family-only gathering, so I’m not able to include additional guests this time. I hope you understand, and I’d still really love for you to come.”

A day later, she sent me a text saying that she is old, needs someone with her, and since I am coming to San Francisco at the end of the month, she will see me then.

To be honest, I was expecting this. She just needs to have a JW crutch with her at all times. She’s very capable of navigating the subway at her age. It would be an early dinner, and there would still be plenty of light out by the time she left here. So, as a last ditch effort, I told her that I would pay for her Uber ride to and from my house.

She still declined.

Now, we know what this was really about.

As Kaia said when she was an early toddler learning to speak, “ALL DONE!”

A family dinner that cannot ever just be a family dinner

Posted on by
Reply

It doesn’t seem to matter who it is in my family, but everyone does something that truly, deeply drives me crazy. It reminds me of that Leo Tolstoy quote that you always see when it comes to families that was the first line of Anna Karenina: “All happy families are alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.” Dysfunction stems from a unique mix of human flaws, generational patterns, and unhealed wounds.

My aunt, my dad’s older brother’s wife, is currently in town, and she asked if we could get together while she was in New York. Of course I said yes, and several weeks ago, I asked her to come over for dinner this Sunday. She confirmed, and that was that. Well, that was not over, because out of nowhere today, she asks if instead of dinner at my place this Sunday that I go down to Manhattan Chinatown to meet her for dim sum with Chris and Kaia. I told her that wouldn’t be possible because of Kaia’s pre-scheduled extra-curricular activities. She then texts to see if Saturday dim sum would work; I replied back and said we already made plans.

I was getting more and more irritated with each response given we had already confirmed dinner at my place weeks in advance, and suddenly, she just wanted to change it. I know why she wants to change it: my aunt has this really frustrating habit of constantly inviting her random Jehovah’s Witnesses friends to almost all of our family dinners. It doesn’t matter if it’s just her son and family and me or all of the cousins and my parents, but she feels this urgent need to invite at least one to FOUR non-family people to any family meal. They are not part of our family, and they are people I will see once and completely forget about. Why does she constantly do this all the time? Even when I have explicitly asked her in the past when meeting for lunch in New York if it could just be us, lo and behold, she shows up with her New Jersey based friend I cannot stand called M, or one or two other random people I will have nothing to talk about with. M is a terrible person; she is a free loader. She makes sweeping, racist generalizations about groups of people she knows little to nothing about. And perhaps worst of all, M once explicitly said that “something was not right in the head” with Ed just years before he died. I truly wanted to punch her face in. And even after I confronted my aunt about how inappropriate and hurtful those comments were, she brushed me off, saying that M didn’t mean it that way and that I shouldn’t take it too seriously. My aunt has a true penchant for always ignoring serious issues and living a seemingly shallow life with no deep conversations ever possible. I told her I didn’t want M coming to any of our meals again. But of course, she ignored me and invited her anyway once against my wishes. We barely talked at that meal; I was PISSED. Part of the reason I wanted her to come over for dinner is to thwart any possibility of some random person showing up at my house because of her incessant “outside” invites.

So lo and behold, my aunt finally agrees over text to come for dinner at 5pm this Sunday. But the story’s not over because she has to text back: “Can I bring M with me, she wants to see Kaia.”

It’s like she’s deaf or suffering from amnesia that I strongly dislike this person. I simply responded back, “No, she is not invited. I have told you that I dislike her.” And I left it at that.

In the end, if she chooses not to come because of this, I truly don’t care. I’ve tried to be amenable and the “middle man” in too many of my family situations, and this is not a battle that I really feel strongly about. The level of delusion here is just beyond ridiculous. I do not want disrespectful, ignorant people in my house, and I am entitled to invite only who I want to my own house.

Donating whole blood for the first time

Posted on by
Reply

The first time I tried to donate blood was at a blood drive on my college campus, so sometime between 2004 and 2008. I stopped by the tent and asked if I could donate blood. They asked me what my blood type was, and I responded that I didn’t know (frankly, I still don’t even know today because your healthcare providers cannot tell you without charging you out of pocket for that knowledge. Isn’t that insane?!). They told me that I needed to know my blood type to donate blood. This didn’t make any sense to me, as how many people actually know their blood type (and at college age?!), so I didn’t think much of it and walked away.

Then I met Chris’s brother, who frequently donated whole blood and now plasma. He has talked about it a number of times with me and posts about doing it on Instagram. His active blood donation made me reconsider it. But for some reason, it still wasn’t enough to actually get me on a blood donation website to really look into it.

So finally, I was reading the news last week, which said that the American Red cross declared a rare national blood supply crisis as donations hit a four-year summer low. The most urgent need is for those with a blood type O positive or O negative, but they really want all blood donations to increase. Given I have zero idea what my blood type is, I figured that maybe this was the final wakeup call to finally get my butt into a blood donation center. I am a healthy, physically active 40-year-old woman. They must need my blood, right?! So I looked up New York Blood Center, made my appointment for this afternoon, and went.

I’m not really sure what took me so long to do this — likely lack of prioritizing and just laziness. But regardless, I finally did it! I went in, filled out a digital questionnaire, then got called into a room so they could clear me for the blood donation. They took my temperature, blood pressure, and pricked my finger to measure my iron level. I cleared all three.

Then, they brought me to a very comfortable adjustable recliner chair and sat me down. They told me to expect that the whole blood draw would take anywhere from 5-20 minutes depending on how healthy and hydrated I was. And after the first sharp prick, it all seemed like any other blood draw I’d gotten… just that the needle was stuck in there longer. While hooked up, they also put a continuous blood pressure monitor on you to ensure you aren’t about to pass out. And as the blood gets drawn, this interesting little digital device called a Hemaflow scale that has a seesaw-like attachment moves back and forth, which serves as an electronic scale and mixer. The Hemaflow scale gently rocks the blood bag back and forth to thoroughly mix the fresh blood with an anticoagulant solution, which prevents clots and ensures accurate volume measurement.

Time flew really quickly — I was connected for just under five minutes when the machine beeped. The assistant looked at the measurement: I had donated 511ml of whole blood! That was much faster than I anticipated! They asked me to sit for fifteen minutes for monitoring to ensure I felt okay and wasn’t dizzy. Then to ensure my hydration, they offered me my choice of apple, orange, or cranberry juice (I chose the third option and saved some sips for Pookster at pickup). Finally as I left to go, they gave me instructions for what to do in the next day (no strenuous exercise for 24 hours, eat iron-rich foods), and let me know I could login to my portal in 2-3 days to check my blood type (YES, FINALLY!). They also said I could take as many snacks in the food area at the front to fuel myself on the way out. I grabbed two packets of cashews.

They told me I can donate whole blood every two months. But after I consulted with my therapist, aka ChatGPT Pro, I was advised that as a physically active, petite, menstruating woman that to donate whole blood on this schedule was absolutely not recommended, as it could severely deplete my iron stores. So it said that at most, I could schedule to donate whole blood twice a year. Though if my blood type matches needs, I could consider platelet or plasma donation, but that would require a bigger time investment — as in, 2-3 hours each visit. So, not a five-minute blood draw. I guess I will wait and see what my blood type is and go from there.

Now, I can finally check off “blood donation” from my list of things to do before I die. The next question, though, is how often will I continue doing this, and what variations (plasma?) might I consider in the future depending on my blood type?

Mufasa, our new robo vacuum-mop

Posted on by
Reply

Chris and I don’t really see eye to eye on cleaning. And when I say that, what I really mean is that my slightly impossible standard of cleanliness can pretty much never be met. And it doesn’t help when said husband doesn’t consider things dirty unless they look dirty. Years ago when I was trying to get him to commit to cleaning more, I suggested that he vacuum and mop the floors of the apartment every month. He completely balked at this and refused. So, we settled on every other month, which I was never happy with. Lots of spot / area cleaning had to be done, especially in the kitchen and around Kaia’s eating area (the inevitably little person messes!). Within days of mopping, the floors always felt sticky to me once again. It’s a huge reason I prefer wearing slippers; the slippers prevent my feet from knowing how dirty the floor beneath me is.

So when I saw Chris’s parent’s robo-vacuum, which they named Modi (“we have to put Modi to work!” his mom said), working their house back in December, I was intrigued. I was even more intrigued when they told me it actually had a mop function. The vacuum was one thing, but a combined vacuum mop would be a total game changer. I asked ChatGPT Pro to research the best options for us here given our living situation — in a NYC 2-bedroom apartment with two adults and a 4-year-old — and it gave me this suggestion that also had its own wood cleaner. Amazon Prime Day came in June, and we bought this thing. And Chris decided to name it Mufasa, after the son he never had. He also told Kaia that this was her little brother. She now calls him “Mufasi!” She also enjoys watching him in action. Given how much it cost, I told Chris that we better be running it at least every week as a vacuum with water, and every other week with the proper wood cleaner!

After cooking today, I used one of the pre-set programs to have it do a moderate vacuum/mopping of the kitchen floor. If you must know, the pre-set program, which Chris named, is called, “Post YThi Cooking Mess.” And while Mufasa did miss one small caked on spot, I will say that my bare feet walking over it were pretty satisfied with the results afterwards. I am very much looking forward to what the floor looks and feels like once we finally use the wood cleaner in the mix!

Xia pi 虾皮 aka “shrimp skin”

Posted on by
Reply

Although I’ve been cooking since I was a teen, I am most definitely always learning about new ingredients, techniques, dishes, and recipes. When it comes to ingredients, it can get really overwhelming even in a single cuisine. Chinese cuisine could easily be hundreds of different cuisines across the entire country. Although “Eight Great Traditions” of cuisines are recognized across China, I still think this is simplifying the country too much given exactly how large it is and how many influences different parts have given their neighboring countries.

For a long while in the back of my mind, I’d been wanting to buy some xia pi 虾皮 or literally “shrimp skin” when translated into English. These are not actually shrimp skins, but are teeny tiny translucent sun-dried shrimp, just a bit bigger than a peppercorn, that are used as a savory, umami-rich condiment in Chinese cooking. They add a strong, salty sea flavor to dishes like soups and stir-fries. Given its strong umami flavor, they can replace salt in a dish and would definitely require you reduce any added salt/soy sauce to a dish. And because these shrimp are sun-dried, they make for great long-term storage in your fridge or freezer, and can even be used directly from the freezer and added to stocks and stir-fries. I got reminded of xia pi again when I was at the Elmhurst Chinese supermarket I used to frequent when living in the area yesterday. I saw them in packs of half a pound in the refrigerator section and decided that today I’d finally buy some and use. I am looking forward to adding them to near-future soups, vegetable stir-fries, and even an omelet.

I love discovering and trying out new ingredients to make. But I definitely need to balance it with all my other seemingly endless ingredients at home! This is definitely a “first world” problem or challenge, but at least it’s a fun one!

An annoying restaurant concept pivot to cater to the area

Posted on by
Reply

One of the things I love looking at every week is what new restaurants are opening up across the city. I subscribe to a few mailing lists. I keep track of Eater and Infatuation for New York City. I also get a lot of food content (predictably) via my @yvonnemeetsfood Instagram handle. As someone with a young child, I am far less interested nowadays in four-dollar-sign restaurants, potential Michelin-rated restaurants, or tasting menus (though I will say that our one tasting menu at Yingtao last year was truly incredible and finally propelled me to make my first — and so far only — order at Mala Market!). I am more interested in cuisines lesser represented, interesting fusion twists, and small independent bakeries and holes-in-the-wall. If they are a bakery, massive brownie points from me for having sourdough starter as a base, and/or milling their own grains and wheat.

So when I read about Unglo Thai opening just a few blocks from my apartment on the Upper West Side, and merely steps away from the Lincoln Center, I was in total shock. The original restaurant concept was a funky, modern Thai restaurant that featured traditional (and “elevated”) Thai barbecue. I just couldn’t believe that something that traditionally Thai, creative, or unique would be opening directly across the street from the Lincoln Center, and on the Upper West Side, of all places. I may live on the Upper West Side, but I unfortunately find myself repeating often that this area is likely one of the most boring neighborhoods in the city for food. Nothing particularly unique interesting ever opens first here. Occasionally places will open their second or third location on the Upper West Side (I am specifically looking at Salt & Straw from Portland, Oregon, or Radio Bakery, originally from Greenpoint, Brooklyn), but nothing fun and cool ever starts on the Upper West Side.

This restaurant opened about a year ago, and I saved it as a “to try” spot for a future theater night with a friend. Well, last night was a Summer for the City Festival Orchestra night, and it was also a belated birthday dinner for my good friend. So I booked this restaurant about a month ago, thinking we would have Thai BBQ. And then two days before, I checked the menu… to only find out that after a few months, they weren’t doing so well. I guess it was all a little too authentic and too true to Thai cuisine for the uppity, stick-up-your-butt old fuddy-duds of the Upper West Side / arts crowd. So they had to pivot to “elevated Thai comfort food.” I was not very happy about this, as I was very much looking forward to a Thai BBQ meal so close to home. But I figured the menu was still more interesting than your average pad thai/pad see ew/green/red/yellow curry, so I’d stick with it.

I was happy I stuck with this decision. My two favorite dishes we ordered were the kua rib fingers, described as “wok-tossed wagyu rib fingers with southern Thai “kua” curry paste.” It was rich, sticky, and super fragrant and flavorful with makrut lime leaf and lemongrass featured prominently. I also loved the pomelo salad, which had the pomelo pieces cut thick and sectioned, with a pla-ra dressing with tomatoes, shallots, culantro (yes, CU-lantro! It was so good and pungent with really thick leaves!), mint, and crispy school prawns.

Although I may have been ready for Thai barbecue on the Upper West Side, especially by the Lincoln Center, unfortunately this area was not quite ready for it. The Upper West Side has a long way to go before it becomes a destination dining neighborhood (other than for Tatiana, which I may never successfully get a reservation at because it’s so freaking competitive). I am still sad Unglo’s original concept did not survive, but I do think what they pivoted to is still delicious with real Thai flavors worth trying and even going back to for a delicious evening.

Summer for the City 2026 – Festival Orchestra of Lincoln Center: A Mother’s Love

Posted on by
Reply

For the last three years, I’ve been able to enjoy at least one pay-what-you-wish performance at the Lincoln Center’s Summer for the City arts series. The performances I’ve seen have ranged from orchestral performances to modern opera, but they’ve all been a little escape from my day to day life and a way to appreciate the arts scene at an affordable price just steps away from my apartment. Whenever I have gone, I feel very lucky that I can walk five minutes to David Geffen Hall and five minutes back. Ever since we moved to this part of the city, I always consider it a privilege that we live so close to a global performing arts space.

Tonight, my friend and I had dinner to celebrate her belated 40th birthday, and to see the Festival Orchestra of Lincoln Center perform “A Mother’s Love,” a series of mother-child inspired orchestral performances. What I had forgotten about and was reminded of was that there was a guest performance by Abel Selaocoe, a famous South African cellist/vocalist tonight. As soon as I heard his voice over the cello, there were goosebumps all along my arms. I could tell my friend was called to attention because her eyes immediately widened, and we were trying to see Abel’s mouth move from our far right seats. He was singing in his native language over his cello, but he also did quite a bit of throat singing, which I am not used to hearing. He used this deep, guttural voice that seemed to bring out more than a single pitch at the same time. It was such a strange and ear-catching thing to be able to listen to in person, and in a performance hall as renowned as David Geffen Hall.

My friend went a little nuts after, especially since she loves to sing and sang with a group at her high school. She could not stop talking about this cellist’s throat singing. And all I could hear was the sound of his voice in my head after. I immediately made a mental note to look this performer up on Spotify and ‘favorite’ his available music so I could listen to it in the background while working.

My friend and I don’t get out at night that often, but this was a great reason to be out. Every time I walk home from these performances, I feel thankful to live in this great, diverse, art-filled city, and to live so freaking close to the Lincoln Center.