Category Archives: Contemplation

I was almost 40 years old when I discovered glass nail files

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I’ve had a nail and cuticle picking habit since I was about 12 years old. I have a feeling that some of it is genetic, as both my dad and Ed are nail and cuticle pickers. I tried all kinds of things to resolve this: I tried different nail oils and creams. I cut and filed my nails down really short (which is actually more hygienic given I cook so much). Chris and my friend even yelled at me regularly when they’d catch me picking. Nothing ever helped other than getting manicures, which tended to get very expensive and is a huge time commitment. There was a period in my mid-twenties when I actually did my own nails regularly in between having different vendor partners pay for manicures. But then I got too impatient and let it go. I realized that if I liked the way my nails looked (perfect, polished, manicured), then I wouldn’t be tempted to pick at them. And then once Kaia was born, the idea of doing my own nails or going to a salon just seemed like too much — too much time, too much money, too much dedication. Plus, regular nail polish doesn’t last long when you have kid responsibilities and cook regularly. I don’t want the risk of flaking nail polish into our food!

So I was reading about DIY “natural manicures last year. I found some kits that were in the $40-60 range, and this all seemed crazy to me. But then when I read the reviews for these kits, I realized that the key part that everyone raved about was the glass nail file — this seemed to be the real game changer. I vaguely remember buying (and breaking…) a glass nail file back in my 20s. The reviews say that if you commit to using a glass nail file, you don’t even have to cut your nails anymore. You file in one direction, and your nails will be super shiny and nice without any product.

I found highly rated glass nail files on Amazon late last year. I even brought them to Australia/the Philippines. Once I used them, I couldn’t believe it had taken me this long to find them. My nails no longer had the annoying jagged edges that would snag like when I file with a (terrible!) cardboard or plastic nail file. The nail tips actually were shiny because of the glass; I couldn’t believe it. So because of this one change, I’ve actually stopped picking at my nails since December. I still pick at my cuticles, but that’s another problem to be addressed. It’s one thing at a time!

I’m still oiling my cuticles regularly to prevent the dryness (which then tempts me to pick at them), but my nails have honestly never been better. What a find that’s benefited my nail health – glass nail files!

The necessity of soup at the Chinese dining table: an ode to my paternal grandma

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Growing up, I remember there was almost always a massive stockpot full of some kind of broth or soup on the stove. Sometimes, it was a gentle herbal chicken soup. Occasionally, it was a thick and packed jook/congee with lots of different proteins, like chicken, pork, tofu skins, shredded dried and rehydrated scallops. Other times, it was a ginseng-based tonic meant to “cool” our bodies from eating too many rich foods. Regardless of what was in the big pot, I grew up knowing that soup was an integral part of our diet at home. It was rare to have a day when there was no full stockpot on the stove. It was an everyday occurrence to hear my grandma, mom, or aunt insist that Ed and I “drink soup.”

Soup was the antidote to everything. You ate too much fried food? Drink soup. You aren’t feeling well? Drink soup. You’re feeling sluggish or tired? Drink soup. Traditional Chinese Medicine (TCM) has a soup or tonic for pretty much anything you can complain about.

I started getting back into thinking about soup more regularly after I gave birth to Kaia in December 2021. My aunt had lovingly sent me ingredients to make a specific Chinese chicken wine soup (雞酒湯 ji jiu tang), which she insisted would nourish my body to recover quickly from childbirth, while also simultaneously helping my body to produce more milk for my baby (debatable, but it was still tasty). Two years ago, I started being more intentional about making soup. And this year, I am trying to make soup even more often. It’s delicious, nourishing, tasty, and given it’s been so cold this winter, who could say no to a hot bowl of soup? Soup rounds out any meal. In China, there is a saying called san cai yi tang (三菜一汤), meaning “three dishes and one soup,” which is a foundational principle of a balanced, home-cooked Chinese meal that is meant to be shared. It’s typically a meat/protein, one vegetable, one tofu/egg/seafood dish, alongside a nutritious soup. The soup type can vary depending on how it complements the other dishes at the table, but more often than not at home, the soup is a very simple broth that is lightly flavored and seasoned.

I made a simple home-style soup today called yuanzi tang (圆子汤), or pork meatball soup. I was inspired to make it because this blog post by Xueci Cheng, a recipe developer I follow, talked about how integral soup was to her family’s meals in Sichuan growing up. It reminded me of how I ate with my family growing up. And similar to me, she also had forgotten how soup was always at the dinner table at home, as she had moved away to Germany, and soup had mostly been forgotten as a thing to have at a meal. So she made this same soup, and she said when her parents made it for them all during their visit to see her in Germany, they immediately said at the first sip once it was finished cooking that it “tasted like home 家的味道.” This soup is really simple. There’s no required broth base, as it’s mostly flavored by the fat and flavor from the pork meatballs you make (though I did use a cup of dashi I happened to have in my fridge). But after I seasoned it, it really did remind me of the simpler, light home-style soups my grandma used to make when I was little.

My paternal grandma passed in 1995. If she were alive today, she’d be 109 going on 110 this September. Her only granddaughter just turned 40 last month — that’s me. I wonder how she’d feel knowing that even 31 years after her death that I still think about her and her cooking often. I wonder if she’d be pleased to know how much of an impact she’s had on my life and the way I view food, cooking, and our shared culture. She never thought cooking was that great of a skill; for her, it was just something she knew and did. It fed her family (and around Lunar New Year, it fed her friends), and that was enough for her. But in these moments when I taste things that remind me of her and her cooking, I do find myself missing her and wishing we could share that same taste together.

Bonding over the mental load of deciding what to cook

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My friend who loves to cook and experiment in the kitchen messaged me yesterday, telling me that she was inspired to finally browse Mala Market’s website after reading about this chili garlic noodle recipe she wanted to make. The special Sichuan chili flakes needed for the specific flavor of these noodles had to be from this website, the recipe insisted, so she said she would have no choice but to finally make the leap and buy from here. She remembered I originally told her about the website around this time last year, right before the stupid President Dipshit tariffs got announced. I told her I made a big order from the site right before the tariffs would be official to avoid any tariff hikes. I had zero regrets because everything I got was extremely high quality and made all of our stomachs happier.

She said she felt like she had fallen into a rabbit hole with Mala Market. She would browse a page looking for one thing and then eventually want to buy five other things that were linked to that page. “There’s too many things I want to make!” my friend told me, laughing. “How do you decide what to make and when? And then so there are many MORE things to try out and make!”

“The mental load of deciding what to make, when, is real,” I lamented to her, also laughing. “This is a real struggle every day!”

“I think you’re the only person I know who understands this who I can talk about it with,” she confessed. “Whenever I tell this to other people, they look at me like I’m crazy.”

“And that’s why we were meant to be,” I responded back.

I still don’t know how or why it took me until November 2023 to find a friend like this, but these types of conversations always make my heart feel warm. She’s like my kitchen sister, if something like that even exists.

Getting a response to your airline complaint

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I was telling a colleague on the way to the airport Friday that as soon as I got on my DFW-LGA flight and got WiFi, the first thing I would do was write a complaint about my flight cancellation/lack of comped hotel to American Airlines. She chuckled a bit, remembering how seething I was when I first told her the story. And she said while rolling her eyes, “Well, good luck with that! Who knows if they will even respond to you!”

“I have Executive Platinum status!” I said to her, indignantly. “I KNOW they will reply to me. I’m more just wondering how quickly they will, and what they will offer.”

I wrote that complaint in their portal on Friday afternoon. By Saturday afternoon, I already received a response with an apology, a request for my Charlotte hotel receipt, my mailing address for them to send a reimbursement check, plus 2,500 miles automatically added to my account for the pain and inconvenience I experienced. To be honest, I was expecting a response within two weeks; the fact that they responded in about 24 hours was actually quite impressive. Now, I just want to know when I can expect that check.

It’s very true that we live in an unjust and classist world. And they likely wouldn’t have been as quick or generous if I didn’t have Executive Platinum status. But in these moments when I get screwed, I have to play some card and get something out of them. Was a comped hotel really even worth wasting an entire two days of my life, though…?

Changing attitudes and demeanor with age at work

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It’s funny to think that this June will mark 18 years of full time work for me. That isn’t that long in the grand scheme of life. I’m 40, after all, and supposedly at the “prime” of my working years. But to say that I have 18 years of work experience sounds like a lot. I haven’t really “climbed” the career ladder, so to speak, in any externally admirable or impressive way. But when I reflect back on my working years, I realize that I’ve learned a lot about corporate America, work politics, and how luck plays a huge role in how “well” you do in our “dog eat dog” world. I am definitely not the same green, naive person I was when I was 22 and entered some tech startup in a questionable building near Union Square. As time has gone on, I’ve definitely become a lot more assertive, direct, sarcastic, and even snarky. I also just want to do what I want to do, and I care less about impressing others. That’s likely cost me promotions and/or raises, but I still have what I need, so it’s not like I’m going bankrupt because of my attitude.

In my first several years of attending my different companies’ annual sales and success kickoffs (SSKO), I used to make this huge effort to meet as many people as I could, to schmooze with leaders and people “above me” in the corporate ladder to make sure they knew who I was and we had some level of camaraderie. That’s the advice you’re always given — you have to politic in the world of politics. But in the last couple years, I feel so much less inclined to do this. I am in a fully remote role. I don’t get to see my direct teammates (who I mostly like) at all. So when I’m at this once-a-year-event when I can see almost everyone on my team in the same place, I kind of just want to see and chat with them. I can be myself around them. I can be as sarcastic, snarky, and jokey as I want, and they appreciate it and get it (at least the ones I like).

But of course, I still meet new people. I meet people I’ve worked with over Zoom in person finally. I have random chats with people I bump into, and all of that is fun for me. I an extraverted introvert, after all. But having worked remotely for six years now, these events are definitely draining because you’re essentially on — all day long, and far beyond work hours due to evening social events. I feel mentally tired coming back home from SSKO and feel this deep need to decompress and stretch both my mind and body out.

When I’ve flown home from these events in the last few years, I’ve thought a lot about the workplace in general. And I’ve always wondered but never quite pinpointed: how much of “work” is your actual day to day responsibilities and customer requests versus just internal politicking — creating a brand for yourself, making your name and accomplishments known, elevating yourself against your peers and advocating for yourself in terms of recognition, raises, promotions, President’s Club? I don’t know what the percentage is obviously. But what I do know for sure is that if there is just one thing I cannot stand about work, it’s the constant internal politics, which exist anywhere and everywhere as long as there are people. It’s my least favorite thing about the corporate world. Your work will never be enough, and it will never speak for itself even if you are the best.

I also wonder to myself what the feeling will be like one day when I no longer work for a company, for “the White man.” I wonder how much of a weight off my chest that will be, and how it will contribute to my quality of life. Or, will I become one of those people who misses what I hate (that’s also called masochism) and tries to go back into it….?!

Winter Storm Fern on Sunday, a Snow Day (no school) Monday, and evolving views on snow

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In the winter of 2004, it was my first real, snowy winter that I’d ever experienced in my life. I was 18, in my first-year at Wellesley, and we had a beautiful snow fall that blanketed the entire suburban campus. I was preparing for my first real New England winter: I had bought a thick winter coat and a pair of big, bulky, waterproof snow boots. I was so excited to see the snow fall. My first time watching the snowfall, I really did feel like I was in a snow globe. And when the snow fall stopped, my friend and I immediately went outside to Severance Green, this vast lawn with a huge hill, for some sledding (using dining hall trays we temporarily stole from inside). We had to take advantage of the snow while it was still light and fluffy, and before it froze over into hard (and uncomfortable) ice.

I couldn’t believe how much fun it was to be in the snow for the first time. I was giggling like crazy. A friend and I made snowballs and threw them at fellow classmates. We all made snow angels and went down the hill “sledding” more times than we could count. My friend took lots of photos of my first real snow experience. She’s originally from Arkansas and had seen snow countless times, so she was thoroughly amused at how child-like and glee-filled I was to experience this all for the first time.

Since then, I do not have the same excited feeling about snow. I do enjoy watching it fall… while I am in the comfort of my heated home with a hot beverage in hand. I have very little desire to go outside and play with it. I get grossed out by how the snow is plowed in New York City and how that prevents me from getting into cars when I need to, and the black ice is terrifying to me. I know several colleagues who have had very painful falls from black ice in New York; one of whom actually broke her femur and had to have a very intense (and likely expensive) surgery that kept her out of the office for almost two months. But I do know Kaia likes it. I like how she gets excited by snow, creating snow balls, and getting snow thrown at her. It’s cute and funny. But outside of her enjoyment of it, I stay away from it. Maybe that’s just me getting old and senile. Or, what is more likely the case: I just want to avoid freezing temperatures as much as possible. And if I am making snowmen or snowballs, my hands are just going to freeze over.

Winter Storm Fern came as expected yesterday. The Department of Education announced early on Sunday that schools would be closed the next day (today). Given Kaia is in 4K/Pre-K, she has no ‘remote learning’ option, so this just meant we were with her the whole day and had to find ways to entertain her between work.

I tried to make a couple snow balls and throw them at her this early afternoon when we came back from lunch. It was cute to see her laugh and try to escape. But my hands got so frigid so quickly that it almost felt like the numbness was going to lead to frost bite in seconds. But even with Kaia, while she gets amused by seeing snow falling and seeing snow piled up, we can tell she doesn’t love it. She has said repeatedly she hates the cold. And how can we blame her given we 100 percent agree with her hatred of the bitter cold?

Winter is cold, and getting even colder, plus a secret love of boots

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For years here in New York, winter hasn’t been a true “winter.” We haven’t had much snow relatively speaking due to global warming. December through March has been a milder weather period; it has always been cold, but just not as freezing as we expect. Snow has been sparse, so Kaia has had very few times to make and throw snow balls or build a snowman. But this winter, it has most definitely been cold. It snowed last weekend; the temperatures have been in the ‘teens and low twenties Fahrenheit. And Kaia is NOT a fan. As she is becoming more and more verbal by the day, she’s definitely making her opinions known.

She has protested almost every other day of boot wearing. “I don’t wanna wear boots! I wanna wear shoes!” She hates the high-top nature of the winter boots I bought her; she probably dislikes how her ankles can feel trapped in them. I can relate to that feeling, but I have since gotten used to wearing boots since moving to the East Coast.

Kaia told us multiple times this past week, “I don’t like winter. I want spring and summer. I want to wear sandals! I want it to be warm!” We agree with her; we also tell her that neither of us likes winter much, either. But winter does not last forever, and before she knows it, spring will be here, and she can shed all her thick layers and boots and wear regular shoes and dresses again.

I’ve adjusted to living in a four-season part of the country and world. I actually don’t mind it much. It does require more different types of clothing (and a very different skincare regimen in winter due to dryness!), but now that I’ve been here almost 18 years, this is my long-time current “normal.” One thing I have secretly embraced but never said out loud is that the best thing about living in a four-season place is that… I actually love boots! For someone who doesn’t like winter, this sounds kind of funny. But to be fair, most of my boots are autumn/winter boots, so it doesn’t necessarily have to be freezing cold to wear them. I still remember back in 2003 when the Wellesley recruiter came out from Boston to San Francisco, and she told me that she had at least ten pairs of boots — all for different types of cold/weather, occasion, and environment! My mind was boggled at the time when she shared this, but now, I completely understand. I myself have three different pairs of dressy boots, along with one pair of super casual, long Uggs (which I basically live in when it’s cold but not wet outside), one pair of rain/waterproof boots, and one pair of fall duck-style boots (which really need to be retired, after ten-plus years of wear, because I found out while in Denmark that one shoe has a hole in it!). So I have seven pairs of boots myself, which is kind of hilarious. I love all types of boots: I like the leather boots, the suede ones, the heeled ones, the flat ones. I like the Chelsea style boots, the tall knee-high ones, the slouch style boots, and even the chunky combat style ones. I could easily waste an hour on Nordstrom’s website staring at all their boots and wondering which ones would be comfortable and still look good in whatever weather. But then I think that if we end up moving to a warmer weather place, how often would I really wear all these boots, if at all?

Kaia doesn’t currently share my love of boots, but who knows — maybe she will embrace them as she realizes that you absolutely need these in cold weather climates. Or maybe she will shun them and refuse to ever live in a cold weather place ever again.

“Maybe you can do this every year now!”

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I was telling a colleague about my birthday party after she asked. She saw the pictures and videos I posted on Instagram and was telling me how amazing the food presentation looked, and she said she wasn’t surprised I’d have such a crazy spread given it was my 40th. I told her I’d actually never thrown myself a real birthday party before this past Saturday; it took only 40 years for me to plan and host my own birthday party. I told her that planning it was so easy and fun, made especially smooth by the restaurant manager at Patok by Rach. And so she said to me, half jokingly, “So, this means that you’ll do a birthday party every year now, right?”

It’s not an awful idea. Though I would be unlikely to book out an entire restaurant in the next year or so for a non-milestone birthday year.. or pay for it all. But when I think about it, the focus would be less on the fact that it’s my birthday, but more an excuse to get people together. Whenever Chris or my friends would groan about things like bridal or baby showers, my response would always be that it’s far less about “showering” someone with gifts, and much more about just having togetherness, which no one does as much of anymore. Since the pandemic, people have led far more isolated lives, whether it’s because they live farther from people they care about, or because they simply have no desire to initiate get-togethers. Vivek Murthy, the former U.S. Surgeon General and an internal medicine doctor, has said in a podcast I listened to that the biggest epidemic he’s worried about… is loneliness. And it would be so easy for us to resolve that by being less formal or rigid about having our houses perfectly cleaned or planning get-togethers with extensive menus or programming months in advance; we can be more spontaneous with some friends and family and just lay out some crackers and cheese or pizza, and get people together just for the sake of it. And it would create warmth and connection just like that.

So who knows – maybe I’ll do something more casual and simple like that for a future birthday of mine if I am so inclined. It could even be a cupcake party — Kaia would love it!

The odds of getting the exact same birthday gift from two different people

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As the years go on, gift receiving isn’t as exciting as it once was when you were a child. As a child, getting gifts was what made Christmases and birthdays so sparkly and exciting. You’d always wonder if your parents, siblings, cousins, aunts, uncles, and other family friends would give you things you actually wanted (or never even realized you wanted!). There’s the excitement in the anticipation, then even more excitement in the unwrapping or unveiling of gifts from fancy gift boxes and bags. And then, you’d finally get to enjoy your presents!

As I’ve gotten older, I also have gained more power and control over what I have and own, as well as what I can afford to buy for myself — whether that’s everyday essentials, the occasional indulges through experiences, or true splurge/indulgent items (the latter of which I pretty much never do because… well, Asian guilt/practicality). If I really want something, I can just buy it now. I don’t need to wait for a special occasion or nudge a good friend or Chris to buy it for me. That’s the beauty of earning your own money! Plus, as I’ve gotten older, naturally I’ve just gotten fewer and fewer gifts. I no longer exchange Christmas gifts with almost any friend; I give some very close friends (and their kids) birthday gifts, or treat them to special (higher priced) birthday meals. We don’t really “need” as much stuff as we get older.

So when I decided to have this 40th birthday party for myself, I wasn’t sure what anyone would get me, if anything. I figured some close friends would give me some splurge-worthy items, but I wasn’t sure what. One friend got me a very expensive ticket to see Maybe Happy Ending on Broadway, which I very much appreciated. Another friend got me my favorite Burlap & Barrel spices and Rancho Gordo beans (how could I not have appreciated these?!). But then something unexpected happened: a best friend and Chris’s friend got me the same high-end Shun knife: my friend got me the 8-inch, and Chris’s friend got me the 6-inch. I was floored not only at the generosity of the gifts, but also: how the heck did two people totally unrelated to and unaware of the other get me the same fancy gift…?!

They are technically not the same knife because one is two inches longer than the other, but for me, they are essentially the same. Given my hand size, I am more comfortable using a 6-inch santoku-style knife for everyday cutting and chopping needs. So I felt bad, but I think I will have to ask my friend if she can return the 8-inch she got me… and perhaps replace it with something else splurge-worthy I’d normally never get myself. Maybe it could be a Le Creuset bakeware set? I’m truly grateful for my gifts, especially these really pricey ones that no one ever needed to get me. And I know the way my friend thought about it: she specifically wanted to get me a gift that she knew I’d never buy for myself, but would really appreciate. I’m so grateful and genuinely touched.

Embracing middle-aged-dom by organizing all my Chinese herbs

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Yesterday, I spent about an hour labeling glass jars in Chinese and English, and then emptying all my Chinese herbs out of their plastic bags and into the glasses. My herb bag was becoming a total mess, especially once I started buying more around the time my best friend had a baby, and I wanted to make her a few tonics. So I promised myself that once we got back from our month away that I’d finally set aside time to get all these organized. I hated the feeling of disorganization and clutter: I feel like as I’ve gotten older, I’ve gotten more annoyed and disgusted by clutter and dirtiness.

Once I got all the labeling done and the herbs into their appropriate jars, I felt this deep sense of satisfaction. This is what it means to get older: to feel satisfied about organization and cleanliness. In some way, it kind of reminded me of all the endless glass jars my grandma used to store in the cupboard at home. She had an even larger and more complex herb collection, which she used very frequently for soups and tonics for all of us. I never thought I’d ever be like her, but here we are with a growing Chinese dried herb collection that resembles hers!

I’ll be using some of these dried herbs for pork bone lotus root soup today — also a soup that she made fairly often when I was growing up. It’s a soup that reminds me of home — soothing, homey, and almost medicinal in a happy, nourishing way.