Category Archives: Aging

“Are you an old lady?!” The candle tunneling saga takes a turn.

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One of the things I looked forward to upon our return home this month was my nightly winter ritual of lighting a scented candle and reading for about an hour before bedtime. I hate the cold weather, and I strongly dislike short days, but I do enjoy cozying up in bed to a good book with the heat on, my covers over me, and a flickering and beautifully fragrant candle to soothe my senses.

Unfortunately, all of that sensual, soothing “me time” came to a halt one night last week when I realized that my semi new Voluspa Saijo Persimmon candle was starting to tunnel. How was this possible? Candle tunneling is the candle lover’s worst nightmare. I did all the right things: I made sure there was no draft in the room. I burned it for a minimum amount of time to allow the wax to melt evenly. I had the wick trimmed to the right length. What the heck was I doing wrong? So I immediately did a search on my phone to see what the culprit could be.

Unfortunately, it seems that candles do not like cold temperatures, either. A high quality scented candle prefers an ambient room temperature of somewhere between 65-75 F. What this means is: if a candle is lit while sitting in a temperature far below that (and yes, the thermostat in our rooms say that without the heat on, it’s somewhere between 40-50 F; we don’t keep the heat on in rooms we’re not using!), the candle fails to generate enough heat to melt the wax evenly. The heat then primarily melts the wax closest to the wick, leaving the edges of the candle solid and not burning properly. This uneven burning results in tunneling.

So what was I supposed to do, then, to prevent this from happening again — was I expected to turn the heat on in the room where I wanted to burn the candle and “prepare” the candle for lighting? That seemed so ridiculous. I get it when you want to turn the heat on in a room that you are preparing to enter, or for your spouse or even your dog or cat. But now I have to turn the heat on to prep the room.. for my CANDLE?

I was complaining about this to Chris earlier this week, and he gave me this bewildered look. “What are you, an old lady?” he exclaimed. “You’re researching causes for candle tunneling prevention?!”

He just doesn’t get it. When you have a fancy (read: expensive) and much loved candle which creates just the right room ambiance for you for your nightly bedtime reading ritual, you have to take care of it. You can’t just expect it to fix itself. I didn’t appreciate fancy candles ten years ago. But now, I wholly embrace them and everything they represent. Do I acknowledge this is a #firstworldproblem? Of course. But I have to take care of all my belongings!

I’m 39 today.

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A former boyfriend of one of my best friends used to say that Asians always look good, that they age well… until they don’t. He had this fictional graph where the X-axis showed one’s age, and the Y-axis was “good looks.” Asians were high on the chart as they aged… until they hit somewhere between 55-60. At that point, their “good looks” would come crashing down and they’d basically become a pile of leathery skin, endless wrinkles, liver spots, and grey hair.

I think I know what he was trying to say. The truth is that when the average person thinks of aging, they immediately think of things like white hair and wrinkles. But “aging” shows up differently for non-White people like Asians. For people who look like me, the things that stare back at you in the mirror, reminding you that you are no longer in your teens or 20s, are things like this: sun spots, freckles, teeny tiny fine lines, less fat on your face (yes, really), which means that your bones stick out more, and you start noticing “angles” on your face, like around your eyes and cheeks, that you never saw before. Of course, Asians will wrinkle. And of course, we will get grey/white hairs, as I already have some. But those are the things I see when I scrutinize my face now at age 39 that I never really took notice of until this time last year.

My metabolism is slowing down. Since I weaned off breastfeeding two years ago, I’ve never been able to totally work off the extra belly fat right in my lower abdomen; the flat stomach I once enjoyed seems to be just slightly out of my reach no matter how much cardio, exercise, and strength training I do. I’ll need to rethink my strategy on dealing with this in 2025. Sometimes now, when I eat very spicy hot food, which I love, I get more mucus in my throat — the same annoying side effect my mom has been telling me she’s been experiencing as she’s aging. That deters her from wanting to eat hot food, which she always loved and grew up loving.

But it’s all okay. I’d like to think I am smarter now, wiser, that I see life with more shades of colors and all its nuances. Unlike in my early life, there’s really no such thing as something or anything that is all good or all bad, all “hero” or all “villain.” Every person in our life is part villain, part hero, whether we want to admit it out loud or not. I have more perspective now. I’ve never had a single moment when I wished I were in my teens or 20s again. I like having more money and more financial stability. I’m a lot more confident in literally everything I do, from the way I walk on the street to how I conduct myself at work. I tolerate far less bullshit, abuse, and questionable treatment from literally everyone and anyone. It takes time to be comfortable in one’s skin. And so here I am, in my 40th year, happy to grab life by the balls and make sure that every moment is a moment worth living and speaking my truth.

I’m so fortunate and privileged to have the life I’ve had, full of meaningful, fun, vibrant experiences, travels, people, and tastes. Sometimes, I cannot believe how much fun I have had in my life, what good fortunes I’ve been able to enjoy, the kindnesses I’ve experienced all around from those closest to me as well as total strangers in everyday life and struggles (like the ones who stop and try to coax my child when she refuses to walk and wants to lie on the dirty sidewalk…). I hope that things will only get better from here on out, even with all my sun spots, fine lines, and grey hairs coming in. And I can only hope that my daughter will appreciate me for all of it.

Everyone’s aging this Christmas… and every day of the year

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It’s Christmas day today, and Chris’s 43rd birthday. Chris has been telling everyone that he’s been loving his 40s and that his younger brother, who is turning 40 next September, should be embracing this new era of his life. Chris’s aunt and uncle hosted Christmas at their house. We did as we usually did and had lunch/dinner potluck style, so everyone brought a bunch of dishes to share. Given that we had a good chunk of the family away in Canada this year, there were fewer people to eat the food, so there was probably far more food than we really needed. In addition, some of the kids are slightly picky eaters, so Chris’s aunt made some plainer dishes like penne with tomato sauce and sausages in buns to ensure they ate.

Chris’s aunt just turned 70. She told me that she is feeling her age: simple tasks that were easy to do make her tired now. She has had her three grandsons over more often for babysitting because her older son’s place is undergoing some unanticipated renovations due to water damage; sometimes, she’s even had them overnight. She’s gotten stressed feeding them because they are so picky; one of them claims he’s allergic to vegetables or anything green. But she said that with age, she’s also realized she has to just let things go. “Let them!” she’s said to me about her new attitude when people say or do things she doesn’t like or she can’t stand. She said that there’s a podcast she wants to listen to that is literally called, “Let them.” His aunt said that hosting Christmas and events is tiring, but someone has to do it, and she still wants people to enjoy. So it’s worth it in the end. Though this year, she said, she wanted to make things a bit simpler and use disposable cups and plates. “It’s just one less thing to fuss over!” she said. If it’s easier for everyone, why not? Sure, it’s less environmentally friendly, but it’s just a couple days a year.

It makes me wonder, though, when it’s really our generations’ turn to do the bulk of the work for “hosting.” I think it really should be… NOW. Granted, Chris and I don’t live here, so it’s not like we could do it (plus, we already cook a big chunk of the dishes for the gatherings). But I think that given our parents’ generation is getting older and many are already in their 70s, it really should be more on us to do the work for hosting, whether it’s using our spaces (really, Chris’s cousins’ or Chris’s brother’s), setting up, organizing, laying out the food spreads, cleaning up. It’s why whenever Chris’s parents host, I try to do what I can to help set up, cook, and clean up. It especially makes up for the fact that their youngest son doesn’t do any of the above and just rolls in like he’s a guest. Sometimes, I can’t understand why it seems like everyone in the family of our generation is helpful when their parents host, literally every year and every time… except for Chris’s younger brother. Where did things go wrong here?

Friends you make in your youth vs. friends in your adulthood

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One of my good friends from my last company has been in town this week for work, so I met her for breakfast this morning after over a year of not seeing her. We talked a lot about work, the tech industry in general, layoffs and disguised PIPs (“performance improvement plans”), health insurance, politics, and family. I still remember when I met this friend over a Zoom call for the first time about seven years ago. I had been at the company for about six months; she had started a few months after me. But as soon as we started talking, I knew we clicked. It was like love at first conversation. I remember loving the sound of her boisterous laugh and loving how unrestrained it was. We were both loud, opinionated, laughed a lot, and loved food, cooking, and travel. She was like my West Coast equivalent on my team at the time. And since then, we’ve always confided in each other regarding all the work bullshit and hypocrisies around us. We no longer work at the same company, but we’ve stayed in touch. She’s one of a small handful of former colleagues from my last company who I still chat with and see. 

I was thinking a lot about friends I’ve made in my adulthood vs. friends I’ve made in childhood (K-12), and especially thinking about friends I’ve made in the last seven or so years of my life. The friends I’ve made in adulthood, as you’d predict, have values that more align to what I have. Relatively speaking, they are no-nonsense, ‘say what they think and mean’ people and don’t really tolerate much bullshit. They don’t say something to your face and say something different behind it. My good friends from childhood avoid confrontation like the plague; my adulthood friends confront stupid shit head on and stop it before it spirals out of control. They’re all striving to do something important with their lives and contribute to society. A lot of the friends I have kept from my childhood days are friends because of legacy; if I met them today, we’d unlikely “click” and become good friends. But I think all that is to say that different friends serve different purposes in your life. The friends you meet today and spend at most a couple hours a month with are less likely (due to time constraints) to reach the same comfort level of friends you’ve spent literally hundreds of hours with during your childhood; the context is just different. I’m lucky to have a happy and healthy selection of friends from both childhood and adulthood to keep me grounded. 

New friends in your 30s – an investment of time and energy

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This late afternoon, I met up with a new friend I met at the Sambal Lady’s Rendang Hang in mid October. While that event was fun and the food was delicious, I had to balance all the food and the bits of socializing with running around and making sure Kaia didn’t get her hands on anyone’s beer or ended up tearing all of Auria’s plants up. Kaia’s silliness and running around led me to the table of this friend that I ended up meeting with today. She clearly liked children, seemed friendly and outgoing, and like she could be someone I’d get along with. So after some chatting interspersed with running after Kaia, I suggested we exchange contact information (on Instagram first, just in case she thought I was some freak) and maybe meet up in the future. 

We met at a cafe in Nolita and had house-blended ube lattes while discussing the election, politics, life in multiple parts of the world, familial expectations, mental and physical health, college, work, family, and travel. We really packed a lot into almost 2.5 hours of conversation. I found the conversation really stimulating, like the kind of conversation I wish I had more of but don’t have the opportunity to have as much as I’d like given my remote work situation, child rearing, and general life responsibilities. Part of it is that I find it refreshing and stimulating to chat with people who work outside of my tech industry bubble; I learn about industries I have little to no exposure to, and that is always enjoyable and humbling to me. But the other part of it is that I love meeting people who have had very different experiences than my own in general. My friend has lived in four different countries throughout her life, and so she brings an interesting perspective to U.S. politics and also just life philosophy. 

I’m turning 39 in a couple months, and many would already consider me “middle aged.” As I’ve gotten older, especially into my 30s, I’ve realized how much harder it’s been to make friends. We don’t have the endless amounts of leisure time we once had while in school or during summers or school breaks. So now, when I meet people who I find genuinely interesting, even if it’s for just a few minutes, I’ve realized I should take the leap and suggest meeting up for a coffee or meal. The worst thing that could happen is they say no or ghost me, and well, I’m tough and confident enough in my own skin now to not let that bother me if it were to happen. Life is short, and I’ve thought about that more so at two specific junctures of my life: when Ed died, and then after I gave birth to Kaia. Our time should be spent with people we care about who we respect and want to spend time with, people who make us feel full and full of life. So, that’s what I am trying to do with the few new friends I have been lucky to make in the last several years — make a real effort to be in touch with them and spend time with them, getting to know them deeply. 

Losing hair – the areas of concern for aging men and women

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While on a customer call with a colleague this morning, we waited for our customer to join and made some small talk. My colleague asked how Kaia was doing since I told him that I had to pick her up early at school the previous day due to a fever she had. I shared with him that she was at home with us today, and Chris and I were tag teaming between meetings to care for her. He laughed and said, “Yeah, it never gets easier. And my kids are the reason I have bags under my eyes that won’t go away and far less hair on my head!” 

I told him that while all that may have a hint of truth to it, he and the male species were not alone in their hair loss. While men lose the hair on their head, women start losing hair in our eyebrows, I lamented. I was certainly not immune to this. In fact, I remembered that at some point in my mid-30s, I started plucking my eyebrows far less frequently… because the hairs just weren’t growing back, or were growing back far more slowly. I’d never had thick, well defined eyebrows in my life, but once my mid-30s hit and then pregnancy and childbirth, it’s like it’s been all downhill for my eyebrows ever since. 

He chuckled at my comment. “Yeah, but at least with women, you can just draw them back on and it can still look natural. Men can’t draw back the hairs on their head and make it look believable!” 

Well, touche. He wins. 

2024 is coming to a close, and there’s so much more food to make!

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I remember when I was young, and I used to think that each day, especially the crappy and boring days, were so, so long. And now, each year in my adulthood, I keep thinking time passes too quickly. It’s exactly as people say: the older you get, the quicker you think time goes by because so much has already happened in your life. The younger you are, the less that has happened in your life since you’ve lived fewer years, so time feels like it takes forever to pass.

I looked at the calendar late last week and was shocked to see that I have only four more weeks in New York for the remainder of this year. We’ll be in Europe Thanksgiving week. Then, we have barely one week left before we head to Australia for the Christmas season. My immediate thought was: What are all the things I need to get done before we leave for the Southern Hemisphere? And what else do I really want to cook before the end of the year? What do I want to use up in my freezer?!

For the last part, I know I wanted to make bread at least twice before the end of the year, so I started that process on Friday. I started my brioche dough, which I did 60% white flour, 40% whole wheat flour for variety/health (I mean, yeah... you CAN give brioche more nutrition by using whole grains, believe it or not!), on Friday night. I let it rest (and ferment) in the fridge until Sunday afternoon, when I rolled it out, proofed it a second time, then baked it last night. The house, as always, smelled like heaven, and for two weeks, we have fresh, homemade brioche to enjoy. I will likely freeze one loaf to either enjoy the week before we leave for Europe, or our only week here in December.

I also wanted to make shrimp scampi, so I have defrosted my wild gulf shrimp from Butcherbox in the fridge for tomorrow. I want to have some of our Borgatti’s porcini ravioli, and also make the Italian sausage from Calabria Pork Store in a pasta dish (with butternut squash?) before end of year. If I have time, I also want to try out a garlic knots recipe, maybe challah again if I’m feeling super ambitious with time. If I did that, I could freeze a challah loaf so that it’s ready for defrosting in January upon our return. So many possibilities!

Our freezer is stuffed. And I need to un-stuff it before we leave. A full freezer is always a sign of richness to me. So right now, I feel very, very rich. We’re very privileged to have a full freezer and pantry.

Holiday purchase at Costco this season: Meyer’s Limited Edition Holiday Soap!

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On Sunday on our way back home from Albany, we stopped at Costco for our second time this year to stock up on household staples and produce. We picked up olive oil, avocado oil, a large jar of sun-dried tomatoes, toilet paper (of course), facial tissue, and a decent amount of fruit and vegetables. As for seasonal things we got, Chris got 1.5 pounds of peppermint bark, and I picked up… Meyer’s Limited Edition set of hand soaps, in four different holiday scents: pine, peppermint, snowdrop (who knows what this smells like, but I’ll take a chance on it!), and gingerbread.

I was telling my friend over dinner about this purchase. I said that this is how you know you’re really an adult and care about things that matter: you go to Costco and are inundated by all the holiday/Christmas seasonal items, from house decor to treats, and the one thing you “indulge” on is a bunch of holiday-scented liquid hand soap. Ten years ago, if someone gave me soap or toilet paper, I’d wonder what the hell kind of “gift” it was. Now, assuming it’s high quality, I’d think, ‘Wow, that’s so thoughtful (and practical) of you to think of getting that for me!’

So, here I am, admitting that what my mom says is true: with age comes wisdom, and wisdom says that Meyer’s holiday soap is a good and practical thing to buy at Costco as we approach the holidays.

Signs of getting older: not being able to easily thread a needle

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When I was young, my mom would ask me to help thread a needle whenever she was mending clothes. All clothes get worn, of course, but with the occasional hole or button that would come out, she was always quick to fix these for herself and for us. Even after I moved out for college and then work, whenever I’d be back home and she’d need to do a small sewing job, she’d ask me to thread the needle. “My eyes can’t see it as well as yours; you have good young eyes,” she’d say.

I always did it easily and on the first try. I never had any difficulty doing it, and that’s also why she needed my help. If she did it herself, she said, she’d be sitting there for ten minutes or more just trying to get the tiny thread into the tiny hole. We didn’t have needle threaders at home to help us, so we just had our bare fingers and eyes to do the work.

In the last month or so, Chris has had a couple of holes that have popped up in his pants, and he’d ask me to fix them. So I’d do it, but it suddenly hit me that it wasn’t as fast or easy to thread the needle anymore. Even though I am slightly near-sighted, as in I have trouble seeing long distances, I suddenly realized that seeing this closely was becoming a small challenge. The first time, it took me five tries to thread the needle with my naked eye. The second time today was even worse: I tried at least ten times before I got it through. Part of it was because the thread’s end was ragged and limp, but the other part was that I just couldn’t see the hole properly and align it with the end of the thread. And so after I finished the sewing job, I went digging in my sewing kit and luckily found two needle threaders (which I likely procured from snatching the sewing kits from high end hotels; it’s the little things in life!). I quickly learned how to use them, and I decided that from now on whenever I have to sew, I will just reach for them first and not waste any time. There’s no reason to make anything harder for myself than it needs to be, and I just have to face the fact that while I am getting older, so are my eyes.

A growing awareness of mortality

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I’m almost done reading the book I am currently on, Matrescence. While I am not totally sure I would recommend the book, as it does tend to get on a number of tangents that are hard to follow at times, and it seems a bit like rambling at others as opposed to cohesively strung together thoughts, it does bring up a number of thoughts I’ve had about becoming a mother and about life in general. One thought that I was ruminating on after Kaia was born was that becoming a parent really does force you to think about your own mortality quite a bit. As a parent, you bring life into the world with the awareness that your goal, as ironic as it may be, is to raise that tiny blob into an independent adult who will one day not need you. And at some point, assuming all goes well and nothing tragic happens, is that that adult will one day live in a world without you in it; your child will outlive you, and you will die before they will. They will die after you (hopefully…. please). So becoming a parent makes you even more painfully cognizant of the fact that you will one day die, that your life on this earth is finite. It will come to an end. And so with that thought and fact is another thought: how are you going to make this life and all the moments that make it up worth it?

But that’s also another reason that it’s important for us as parents to have passions outside of our children, as all-consuming as parenting can be. One day, soon enough, Kaia will not want to spend that much time with us, and we should not expect her to fulfill all our needs and spend all her free time with us. I think that’s something that’s lost amongst many parents of our parents generation… like my own mom. In my early twenties, my mom used to get angry if she knew I was taking time off work to do anything other than go home and spend time with her. She used to call me selfish and threaten to make me pay her back for my college tuition (oftentimes used as a threat, as always). She said that all my vacation time should be spent with her. When I’d come home and spend time with friends, she would get angry and say that it wasn’t necessary and that I should be with her (you know, at home doing nothing). And at that time, I could not coherently verbalize why I thought that was wrong. But now, it makes perfect sense to me why all that talk did not sit well with me. As a parent, you are not just a parent. You are (potentially) a spouse, a sibling, a friend, a colleague, a citizen of the world. You also play other roles. And as your kids grow up, spread their wings, and fly away, you should also grow up and get back in contact with your own self and what you like to do and spend time on.