Zucchini “noodles” need to die

Living in a city full of very privileged people, I always hear a lot of judgment when it comes to foods that are “good” and “bad” for you, or even products and ingredients in bodycare that supposedly aren’t good for you. I know I am a judgmental person (and you probably are, too, whether you realize it or not), but one thing I never, ever do is judge what people are eating to their face — ever, unless I have something positive to say. I’m very aware of how food shaming can be hurtful because judging what someone is eating to their face is like judging their weight to their face. No one wants that.

I heard someone in the office saying a few months ago how toxic sodium fluoride is (yes, that active ingredient in most of your toothpastes that prevents cavities and plaque? Yeah, that). All breads, rices, and grains seem to be getting a bad rap because they are so full of carbs (it’s as though we’ve all forgotten that meat and fruit and vegetables also have carbs, too?). Someone recently said to me, and I had to try really, really hard to bite my tongue, “I just feel like a vegetable is always going to be healthier than a grain,” when letting me know proudly that she doesn’t have any bread, rice, or grain of any sort in her entire apartment. High protein grains like sprouted wheat and quinoa are on the holy grail list of what are “power” foods. And then there are these stupid things being done where people want to try to fake wheat and rice by making things like zucchini “noodles” and cauliflower “rice”… and then they complain that these things just aren’t as satisfying, or the result isn’t the same as having real spaghetti or real rice. Have they thought that maybe they aren’t the same because… they are not the same thing?!

I’m happy to do things like try raw kale chopped up in salads, green juices, quinoa in my porridge, or test out squash or sweet potato flour occasionally in a baking recipe, but I don’t think I can ever accept the demonization of things like wheat flour, rice, grains, or even fat. We’d all be a lot healthier and happier if we just ate a little bit of everything in moderation and stopped making it seem like carbs or fat will be the death of us. The constant neuroses that I am surrounded by in this city around “good” and “bad” foods will annoy me to no end.

Sleepy head

It’s been over two weeks since the wedding has passed, and yet I’m still struggling to wake up in the morning. All my body seems to want to do is stay in bed and sleep, even if it has had its seven hours. Maybe my body didn’t really consider the last week “rest” since it was still up and around with Chris’s parents being here, which means we were out every night and every weekend day doing something. And it hasn’t helped that work has been nonstop since I’ve come back. I need to adjust to being back in reality and not having a wedding to plan or look forward to or be in. Several of my clients and colleagues have told me that I’d have the wedding blues for at least a month or two after the wedding. Geez. Well, I hope I can still get my work outs in at least.

In-laws reunited

Today, we had brunch in San Clemente with my parents, Chris’s parents, and my aunt. It was an interesting lunch in that the usual things happened; my dad was sitting there awkwardly, not really talking much unless Chris’s dad said something to him first. My mom insisted on sitting next to my aunt and mostly talked to her the whole time, along with Chris trying his best to converse with the two of them. Then, there’s Chris’s mom and me, who are sitting on the other side of the table, and I’m listening to his mom talk about not wanting to eat such heavy food so that she can look good for the wedding photos.

And it all ended with my dad rushing up to the front at the beginning, pretending to get up and use the bathroom, and paying for the bill before anyone else had the chance to. It just gets more and more predictable and exacerbating every time.

Wedding luck

Today, we boarded a plane heading to LAX for our wedding week. Yet as wedding “luck” would have it, the day did not start so smoothly. We checked a bag full of wedding materials to discover that Chris had somehow lost his New York State ID, and it was nowhere to be found in any of his bags or his wallet. It was so unlike him because he’s usually very organized and efficient, so he was forced to go through the regular security line instead of the TSA pre-check line, and go through extra scrutinized security screenings. It was so frustrating just watching it happen; the TSA guard practically felt up his genitals. Yes, that’s what they do to you when you forget or lose your ID. Now you’ve been warned.

Then when gathering all our belongings to get off the flight when we landed, Chris managed to get my veil caught in the garment bag zipper, and in a poor attempt to undo it, I ripped the tulle at the bottom of the veil, resulting in a 2-inch long tear. Good thing that I looked up what to do in case the veil tears; you can always trust clear nail polish for these quick fixes.

Then the carry on roller handle decided to get stuck, and now, it cannot be retracted. It’s been so reliable for the last year or so since we got it.

Finally, my very trusted and many-times-used black travel bag decided that it was time for its strap to retire, and it broke while running errands today. Today was certainly one of those “this only happens during your wedding week” type of bad luck days.

“Every time you go away”

Somehow, every time I get ready to leave for a trip that requires me to take paid time off, everything at work starts to get very hectic and go to hell. Right now, we’re currently working on amendments to contracts and statements of work, potential upsell opportunities that are time sensitive, interviewing potential new team members, and it’s been completely chaotic. Every time I go away, it gets like this. It’s like my clients and internal teams know I am going away and need to speed things up. And when you add planning a three-day-wedding extravaganza, it all results in a lot of exhaustion at the end of the day.

When I am at work, I am really busy, and when I go home, I start my second job — wedding planning. Our wedding only has 75 people. I have no idea how I’d cope if it were double or triple. I guess there was a reason I am not ethnically Indian living in India. Then, I’d really have to hire a full-service wedding planner.

Parakeets and chicken and waffles

A few of my female colleagues have offered to have a mini bachelorette outing with me before I leave for the wedding, so yesterday, we discussed going to a fried chicken spot next Thursday to celebrate. And lo and behold, last night, I dreamt that I was at home in my backyard, enjoying the sunlight and taking care of two different parakeets, one blue and one pink and white, each in their own separate cages. They have cages that look just like the one that my Willie, my old pet parakeet, used to have when I was young. I left them alone for a bit and came back, and I notice that my mother has given both of them new food. One had a big piece of fried chicken on top of a waffle he was nibbling; the second had a mini hamburger.

Why would she feed these parakeets fried chicken and meat? I thought. This stuff is going to kill them!! Of course, they didn’t mind because they were just gobbling it all up. I guess this food sure beats having seeds, vegetables, and fruit.

Hello again

Somehow, I managed to sleep 10 hours last night. I actually woke up in time to head to the hotel gym, but I remembered seeing Ed happy vividly, so I decided to stay in bed to see if he’d come back. Unfortunately, what I thought would be a happy dream ended up being more of the past pain I keep repressing.

In my dream, I was at home again in my bedroom. I heard my dad talking to my mom in the kitchen. He’s having a very negative conversation with my mom during which he’s sharply criticizing someone. The more I listen, the more I realize he’s talking about Ed. “That kid is good for nothing,” my dad says to my mom in his harsh tone. “He’s not smart, he’s not polite, and he’s not anything. He’s just demented.”

As soon as I heard him call my brother demented, I ran out of my room and yelled back. “He’s not demented!” I screamed. “How dare you criticize and put down your own son! What kind of role model are you?”

It’s as though I am not there, though. I feel like I am a ghost because neither of my parents react at all to my yelling and even my presence. To them, I don’t seem to exist.

I went back to my room feeling helpless, unheard, and ignored. Out of nowhere, Ed came out of a corner and made eye contact with me, and I immediately got excited and ran up to him to hug him and hold him. From his eyes, I could tell he heard everything. He looked like he was full of despondency in his heart.

“It’s okay, Ed,” I whispered into his ear as I held him tightly. “Nothing he just said is true. He’s just lying. He’s full of lies and hate. Nothing that he said is true. I believe in you. I love you. Do you know that?”

But Ed doesn’t say anything. He just stands there as we hold each other. I rub his back and I smell that long-sleeved white shirt he’s wearing, a shirt that he oftentimes wore; it was like his default shirt. It smells just like him. It’s as though he’s really there with me, and we are really together.

It was a really terrible start to my morning. I still have these moments like this morning when I keep asking myself if he really is gone, and I get choked up remembering that this is my reality now – a life without him.

Random catch up

Last night, I dreamt that I ran into a former colleague who left my company last year. He was pretty frustrated with the technology situation and his role here, and so he decided to leave and join a very high profile up and coming startup. I really enjoyed talking with him when he was working here, so it was sad when he left.

In my dream, we caught up by beginning with small talk, and he confided in me that he was actually in the middle of a very intense and messy divorce. His wife, who he has twin sons with, apparently had been a not-so-perfect stay-at-home mom by having some mutual friend over… in their bed while he was at work in Manhattan during the weekdays, and he had caught her in bed with the guy on a day he came home early from work. It was a crazy conversation, especially since I hadn’t seen him in so long.

This dream just goes to show what a chaotic and senseless week I had. This made no sense at all.

Annoyed FedEx delivery guy

I had stems of 24 large cymbidium orchids sent to my mom for her birthday. When I placed the order, which I thought I got a pretty good deal on since cymbidiums are one of the most expensive orchids to buy, I envisioned my mother’s face ecstatically opening the box to uncover these fat, beautiful cymbidium faces, freckled with fuchsia and yellow and staring back at her. I anticipated that given the long life of orchids, the blooms would last her until the time she and my dad departed San Francisco to drive down to San Clemente for our wedding. Little did I know that the path to get to her would not be so smooth and bright.

On Friday morning, the FedEx delivery guy comes to my parents’ house and rings the bell. No one answers at around 9:39am, when he attempted the delivery. He rang again, and still no answer. So what does he decide to do instead of calling the recipient to ask when she would be home so he could re-attempt the delivery? Meh, no problem. He just takes the box, throws it over the gate, and drives off!

My parents come home about two hours later to discover what appears to be a very large florist box sitting in the middle of their staircase. My dad later told me the box was dented on one side, and when they took it in and opened it, six of these very beautiful (and expensive) blooms immediately fall off. Some of the petals had fallen off and had been smashed. Someone had mishandled these poor orchids, and this was just not right.

I online chatted The Bouqs and complained about this shortly after my mom called me, and immediately received a full credit back and numerous apologies. I just kept on imagining a FedEx delivery guy being so frustrated that the recipient was not home and then taking the liberty of throwing the freaking box over the gate. What the heck was he thinking?!

 

Death, Take Two

I had a dream that Ed died again. Chris and I rushed on a flight back home, and when we arrived at the Columbarium to prepare the funeral arrangements with my parents, my aunt, and my cousin, the funeral director says that their next open slot for a funeral and viewing would not be for another two months. I immediately was confused and angry, and I asked my dad how he couldn’t have known about this before I decided to fly home. He seemed nonchalant and made it seem like it wasn’t a big deal at all. “How could you not have known this or even asked?” I said to him. My dad stared back at me blankly. He obviously had no control of the situation, nor did he feel the need or desire to take any control.

I turned to Chris and said to him that we would need to come back in two months for the funeral. He whips out his work phone and says that in two months, he will be fully booked up with work travel, which will even include weekend conferences. There is absolutely no order or understanding here, and I lashed out at him for being so flippant about my own brother’s funeral, particularly given the circumstances of his death.

Then, I looked over at the funeral director and got angry with him for telling us this. “So what is it — do you just have a massive refrigerator that stores dead bodies for months at at time?” I said to him in disbelief. “How can you even plan funerals that far in advance? Are you just having people’s families scheduling when their loved ones will get unplugged or pushing people off bridges on certain dates?”

The funeral director also looks at me expressionless and says nothing to my questions. Everyone in the room thinks I am the crazy one there. But I think they are all crazy.