Missing brand-new black Uniqlo turtleneck from Japan is found after one year and three months!

Last year when we were coming back from Japan, we stuffed our car seat case with lots of extra things we had purchased there, which were mostly clothes and snacks. When we came back to New York and unpacked the car seat case, I was surprised to not find the Uniqlo ultra-warm Heat Tech black turtleneck I had purchased. It was brand new, never worn. I turned everything upside down to find it, yet the sweater was no where to be found. I became increasingly annoyed. I kept searching over the course of five days. Chris insisted that if it wasn’t there, it wasn’t there; he had seen me go through things more than four or five times and was pretty sure I had looked at everything. It was the one thing from our trip that was unaccounted for, and it bothered me to no end. I always hate it when I lose anything, even the smallest thing. It’s rarely about the value; for me, it’s about the mere principle of losing something. That sweater retails for about $25 USD in the States, and in Tokyo, I had gotten it for the equivalent of $9-10 USD. But I let go, as in reality, $9-10 isn’t an insane amount of money to lose.

Fast forward to today, and I asked our building porter to bring up our large suitcases in the building basement. I had seen an #ISO (# in search of) post in my local Buy-Nothing group for a car seat case for air travel. Chris confirmed he didn’t want to use ours anymore, so I decided to pass it on to the next Buy-Nothing neighbor. I had generously received ours from another neighbor, who had also only used it for one international trip. I took the car seat case out of the suitcase and fully unzipped it. I remembered the missing black sweater in this moment, and so, for good measure, I thoroughly patted down the inside of the car seat case one last time to ensure nothing was stuck in it. Suddenly, I felt a different cloth texture embedded in a compartment. Then, I turned the case upside down and shook the whole thing vigorously. And out came my black Uniqlo sweater, missing for the last year and three months!! I was so, so happy! I immediately picked it up and put it on, admiring myself wearing it in the mirror. My brand new black sweater was found!!

Sometimes, it’s the little things in life. And I truly do embrace these little things in the daily humdrum that is life. This one surprise find truly made my day today.

Family style eating goes awry (in a work setting)

I’ve spent almost 17 years working full time. My happiest times with my colleagues were likely for about two years while at my second company, and about 1.5 years at my last company. Both times, we had a good group of people of different backgrounds, from different parts of the country (and occasionally, world), most of whom loved food (and drink) and were just fun to be around. I didn’t always feel compelled to talk about only work with them. In both situations, I was often known as the “foodie,” so whenever group happy hours or dinners had to be arranged, I was given the responsibility (and privilege) to choose where we would eat/drink, and to make the reservation. Price was rarely an issue, and the company (or vendor) always paid for it. And most of those times, we would share food, and people would leave full and happy… and occasionally tipsy to drunk.

Well, fast forward to today, when I’m on my fifth year with my current company, and my entire team is fully remote. We don’t get to spend much in-person time together. If we have regular “catch-ups,” they are usually on Zoom and inevitably 99 percent about work. We don’t really know each other that well. Though most people know I’m into food and cooking, my manager has been told that he has to stay within really tight budget guidelines for team meals. So he half jokingly told me he doesn’t trust me choosing a restaurant for us, though he has no doubt it would be amazing. Given this, when we’ve had team meals out, he typically will choose a place off the cuff, and it’ll be fairly basic. Other people on the team have made side comments to me that our manager’s taste in food stinks (he is known for his addiction to Coke and eats way too much fast food, particularly chicken wings, burgers, and bad pizza), and that our team meals are rarely things to look forward to because of it. He has plenty of strengths; diversity in or knowledge of food is not one of them.

For this past Wednesday’s team meal, he chose a family-style Italian restaurant right next to our hotel. When I’ve had family-style Italian meals in the past with colleagues, the great thing was that whenever the powers-that-be ordered, we’d always have a good variety of dishes: starters, vegetables, pastas, proteins/plant-based proteins, dessert. I always felt like the meal was well rounded, and we always ate well. This time, however, it wasn’t that well rounded, and I felt limited because of the limited palates of my teammates.

We started with a caesar salad with croutons, which I loved because the caesar dressing was particularly pungent with extra, extra garlic. We got a “Tour of Italy” plate, which was essentially a mixed plate of cold cuts, antipasti, cut baguettes, and cheeses — this was pretty disappointing looking, and I didn’t touch this. Then, for mains we had… pasta. Just pasta. No parmigiano. No vegetables. Nothing else. Our manager chose four pastas: baked ziti (this felt like it was for toddlers with how basic it was; I wouldn’t even order or make this for Kaia), spaghetti bolognese, meatballs with vodka sauce and spaghetti, and carbonara. I insisted from the beginning that we must have clam linguine. The table was silent. No one wanted to eat clam linguine with me other than one other colleague. My boss conceded and said we’d get a smaller portion of the clam linguine just for my one clam-eating colleague and me. One colleague said she had a shellfish allergy. Another said shellfish made her mouth itchy. A third said she’d have some (just one bite; she ended up taking none). A fourth insisted she would try “just a small bite” and didn’t touch it. On a team of eight people, only two of us ate the clam linguine. It was freaking delicious, by far the best pasta on the table. There was so much leftover clam linguine (well, actually, we had so much leftover of ALL the pasta) that would ultimately go into the garbage bin. It always hurts a little to see how much food waste we generate at these team meals. But that is the way with corporate life and corporate dining out in general, sadly. We were served family style, so everyone got a little bit of each pasta (minus the clam linguine, which the two of us served ourselves) on our plates doled out by our server. But almost every single person looked like s/he barely ate half their plate. I had felt bloated most of the day, so I only ate my clam linguine and a bite each of the other pastas.

It feels spoiled and bratty to complain about this, especially given I’m traveling on my company’s dime and won’t be paying for any of my meals during this work trip. But I couldn’t help but feel annoyed at how unadventurous my colleagues were in terms of their palates and what they were willing to eat. I felt like I was the “different” one and slightly being “othered” once again, and in this case, it’s crazy because it’s just clams in pasta we are talking about! It’s like they generally lack curiosity about different foods… and perhaps it could even be extended to say that they lack curiosity about other cultures and the world outside their own bubbles. I mean, how else did we get into the crappy predicament we are in with our current government?

When your toddler tugs at your leg (and heart)

Since my first work trip this year in January when I went to Las Vegas, I decided to start recording short videos of myself to have Chris share with Kaia while I was away. I did the same while in Denver this week, and Chris always says she loves them. Chris also shares videos of Kaia talking about all kinds of things, as well as demanding a “video of mummy.” She was at backup care at her old school today since her current school is closed for parent-teacher conferences today. I got back in time to fully unpack, get dinner ready, and pick her up. She wasn’t expecting me at pickup time, but when she saw me enter the classroom, she wordlessly ran up to me and wrapped her arms around me. Then, she motioned her legs to indicate she wanted me to pick her up. I held her tightly while asking her temporary teacher how her day was, gathered her belongings, and we left.

Pookster didn’t say too much on the way home, but when I asked her if she missed me, she vigorously nodded her head to say yes. And when we got back home to eat dinner together, I had to break the news to her that Chris and I would be going out for a comedy show to see Kumail Nanjiani that evening, so her former teacher/babysitter would be coming to watch her. Unlike last week when she took the news in stride and confidently said she’d show her babysitter her toys and books, this time, she stuck her lower lip out and looked like she was going to cry.

“I don’t WANT mummy to go out and see friends!” Kaia yelled. She always thinks that when Chris and I go out without her, it’s “to see friends.”

Then when the babysitter arrived, Kaia got really upset and started balling. She was sobbing like crazy, demanding endless hugs and kisses from both of us. She kept pulling my leg and saying she wanted to come, too. Chris explained to the babysitter that Kaia hadn’t seen me since Monday morning, and I’d literally just come back about two hours ago. So Pookster only got to see me for less than an hour before I’d leave again. I felt terrible, but there was nothing else to be done. We went out, and Kaia had the evening with the babysitter.

When we got back from our comedy show, the babysitter told us that Kaia eventually calmed down, but she didn’t want to play or read or do anything with her. She lied on our bed for a bit, cuddling “mummy’s sweater.” Then, she demanded the babysitter change her into her pajamas. She got help with peeing in the potty, then went straight to bed alone. I suppose this is Kaia’s way of coping as a three-year-old, when she’s upset she doesn’t get mummy and daddy, but she doesn’t have a say in the matter.

Kaia stayed in her bed until just past 4am, when she walked into our room with her goodie bag and overalls (current obsession, thanks to Ms. Rachel), and tapped my face to wake me up. I pulled her into the bed and under the covers, where she held onto me tighter than she ever has before. It almost felt like she thought that the tighter she held onto me, then I’d never leave her side again. For a while, I just looked at her little face as she peered into my eyes with this huge grin. My baby was so happy to see me and be with me again, and I felt so touched. These are those moments of motherhood where I just feel like I’m going to melt into a pool of joy. These are the moments I look at her and think, wow. I’m just in awe of how someone so small and sweet can fill my heart with such immense love. Kaia Pookie is truly my greatest blessing and joy. I hope she always knows that. I remind her every day before bed.

Later this morning, once Kaia was all ready for school, Chris asked me what time Kaia came over. I told him. “You have to send her back!” he insisted. The last two nights, she apparently didn’t come to the bed at all while I was away. But given it was already past 4am, and given I hadn’t seen her since Monday, I indulged her and enjoyed the moment of snuggling with my sweet baby. Of course, I want to set boundaries with her, but other times, I just want to enjoy the moment and let my Kaia Pookie enjoy her safe place, which is in her parents’ bed, right in between the two people she loves the most.

Fashionista – everywhere in the U.S. except in New York City

I’ve been called a lot of adjectives, positive and negative, over the course of my life. But “fashionable” or “trendy” are not words that I had ever been called until I started working at my last company. When I used to travel to my last company’s headquarters in San Francisco, I would usually be the most dressed up person in a meeting or conference room. I’d walk through a sea of hoodies, Patagonia fleeces, or North Face pullovers. This was also the case while walking on the streets of downtown San Francisco. It’s almost as though no one even attempted to look nice for work and just wanted to give the “I don’t care what I am wearing” vibe off. Everyone just wanted to look like everyone else! It wasn’t even like I was wearing expensive or tailored clothing; I’d just happen to be wearing a dress or a skirt, and everyone would shower me with compliments on how pretty my outfit was. Then, at my current company, we had a team offsite last year in San Francisco. On my team, I was voted one of the most fashionable, which I found laugh-out-loud funny, as that could not be farther from the truth.

I was reminded of this when I went out for coffee yesterday morning in downtown Denver with a colleague. We were at a coffee shop and grabbed our lattes when they were ready. And as we walked out, a woman almost chased me out to tap me on my shoulder.

“Hey! Sorry to bother you, but I absolutely love your boots!” the woman nearly squealed. “Where did you get them from? They are so cute!”

I thanked her for the compliment and told her that they were from Nordstrom and are actually Nordstrom brand, and I’d purchased them last year during a Black Friday sale. Unfortunately, I couldn’t say I got them from some exotic, foreign place custom made and designed, though I’m sure that would have sounded very impressive. She thanked me for letting her know, and my colleague and I went on our merry way back to our workshop.

“No one ever thinks I am fashionable in New York,” I told my colleague from Texas. “I am only ‘fashionable’ when I go to other U.S. cities!”

Uniquely female burdens

Last year when I was in Denver for work, I got an unexpected message from a friend’s friend saying that she and her family had actually moved here from New York, and that she’d like to catch up if possible. Unfortunately at that time, all my evenings were packed with pre-booked work events, so I wasn’t able to get away. It was a bit unexpected, to be frank, that she reached out. While I’d never really considered her a friend while in New York, I did see her from time to time at mutual friends’ events, and we did get along. We’d tried hanging out once before with our partners, but we never did much more than that. So when she reached out, I figured she was having a difficult time transitioning from urban to suburban life, coupled with transitioning into motherhood (her daughter is about six months younger than Kaia). She probably wanted to see a familiar face.

So this time ahead of this trip, I reached out to see if she could meet. We did have a decent amount in common on paper: we both love food, desserts, travel, and now we’re both mothers, so we’d have that to bond over. She immediately accepted and we made plans for dinner, which ended up happening last night. I was really touched; she actually drove almost an hour to see me (Denver traffic can be crazy during rush hour), and we spent three hours discussing marriage, motherhood, work, travel, moving, and life in general. I honestly couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen her, but it felt really good to have a deep chat… and to get away from colleagues for a night.

Sometimes, I think about all the trials and tribulations that women have to go through just to procreate, and I cannot believe that women still want to bear children. This friend had three miscarriages: two happened before her daughter was conceived; the third happened last year, before her current pregnancy. Miscarriages are more common than they are not, but her first one was particularly traumatic. At around 11 weeks of pregnancy, she started bleeding profusely. She drove herself to the hospital, where they confirmed she had miscarried. She was given the option of having a dilation and curettage (D&C) to remove the dead fetal tissue from her uterus, or letting it expel itself naturally. Her father, who is a doctor, advised her against the D&C, and suggested she just go home and let it happen naturally. Well, it just got worse from there: the next two days, everything she sat or lied on was soaked with pools of blood, and she basically laid on her bathroom floor most of that time, experiencing painful contractions for almost 48 hours. These are one of those scary miscarriage stories that no one warns you about, that for some women when they have miscarriages, regardless of whether it’s first trimester or not, they can actually go into labor.

The thought is just beyond sad and excruciating — to go through labor without seeing a living, breathing baby at the end. I think of all the women who have had stillbirths, where they know their fetus is dead, but they still have to go through the labor and “give birth” to a dead baby. The mere thought brings me to tears. And somehow, even after this horrible and painful experience, this friend kept trekking along to try to conceive. She went on to experience a second miscarriage, a viable pregnancy and birth and baby, and then a THIRD miscarriage, and finally a second viable pregnancy, and she’s still here and excited to be pregnant. It just shows how much burden women have to bear, literally on their own, and how resilient we all are. It takes a lot emotionally, mentally, physically, to go through all this stress and loss. It likely raises cortisol levels and puts you on the defensive for everything. In the end, we vacillate between surviving and thriving.

But it sounds like since she’s moved down to the southern suburbs of Denver, she’s been mostly in survival mode. She has no friends here. She works fully remotely. She has a sister and their family who live in a nearby suburb, but that’s it. She misses walking (people drive everywhere here, like in most of the U.S.) and going from store to store to restaurant by foot. She feels isolated and like she does 90 percent-plus of all the child rearing. When she saw me for dinner last night, it was the only time since they’d moved here that she’d actually gone out to dinner, alone without her daughter, to catch up with a friend. While she’s excited for her second baby, she’s terrified what it will mean for the division of labor at home, her marriage, and the effect it will have on her daughter, who is extremely attached to her and who has had an assortment of frustrating health issues since birth.

I hear these stories, and I realize even more how lucky I am. Although IVF was certainly no walk on the beach, I went through just one stimulation cycle. I’ve never had a physically painful miscarriage experience (though I do still mourn my “vanishing twin”). I had a straightforward pregnancy and child birth. I was lucky and privileged to have a healthy, easy-going baby in Kaia Pookie. Kaia Pookie, knock on wood, is still thriving and impressing (while simultaneously infuriating) Chris and me every single day with all she learns and knows. I’m also lucky to have a partner who has done his share and tries to make sure I’m not carrying all the burden of child rearing. At the same time, it makes me sad and angry that women who are as smart, accomplished, well educated, and confident like this friend still allow themselves to be put into situations where they have to bear the brunt of all stereotypical gender roles, such as child rearing and the mental load of maintaining a functional household – much against their own wishes. Are men really that ill equipped for the current century, or are women just so desperate to have heterosexual partners to procreate with that we “settle” in that regard?

Back in the “Mile High City”

For the last three years, I’ve come to Denver once a year in Q1 for work. The last two years, it has been for my company’s annual sales and success kickoff. This year, it’s for my company’s go-to-market value selling workshops. We’ve always been based in downtown Denver for these events, and so it’s given me time to walk around and see what’s here, especially since the last time I was here was in November 2012 with Chris. The first year I came for work in 2023, I walked up and down downtown, and it was like a ghost town. It didn’t matter if it was peak lunch time or around early dinner time/get-off-work time, but I barely saw anyone on the streets. It felt pretty eerie. Last year when I came, there was a bit more life. I definitely wasn’t totally alone, but it was still quiet. This year as I’ve walked the streets in the morning and during lunch time, it actually felt like a semi-busy downtown. I saw lots of people having coffee, at cafes, grabbing lunch with colleagues, coming in and out of office buildings.

I always make sure to do morning workouts while traveling for work and stick with my usual exercise routine as much as possible, so I brought my workout gear. This morning, I went up to the top floor gym, where the hotel had a large, separate yoga room that was flooded with natural light. Although I do a semi-rigorous workout every weekday, which consists about 30-40 minutes of cardio and 30-40 minutes of strength/pilates/barre, here, I could actually feel that I was “mile high.” The last two years, I didn’t feel the altitude, but this year, I was breathing much harder on the treadmill and sweating buckets more than I normally do. Denver is 5,200+ feet above sea level, so it makes sense that my body was working harder than it normally does.

As my colleague said, we should take it all in stride: our workouts are more efficient here! If we workout for 60 minutes at higher altitude, that’s like 120 minutes at sea level, so we’re doing our bodies a favor! I suppose that’s one way to be positive.

Kids events in NYC – plenty are free, as long as you keep track and jump on them!

One of the greatest things about living in New York City and raising kids is the fact that there are endless playgrounds and kid-related activities — as long as you do the research, know where to look, and also jump on events quickly! Most of the free or low-cost events are, predictably, very high in demand and popular, so for you to get tickets to these events will require you to be on all the email or text lists and to act on them almost immediately. In the last couple of years, I’d been more on top of keeping up with Lincoln Center free or low cost events for Kaia in mind, but this year, I haven’t been as good about checking their website and opening all their emails in a timely manner. My friend, who has a child who is a similar age to Kaia, told me today that there was a new Beethoven kids event at the Chamber Music Society at Lincoln Center for May that he and his wife would be interested in taking their toddler to, and asked if I’d be interested. I saw that there was a steep processing fee to book the tickets online, so I called the venue to ask if I could go to the box office to get around the processing fees. She told me that I could actually forgo the processing fees if I just booked with her on the phone right there. But I wasn’t sure if my friend had a specific time in mind, or if he had purchased their tickets yet. So I asked her how many tickets were remaining. Well, the seating that my friend originally wanted had only TWO tickets left (there are five of us!), and the seating before had five left, which would have been an exact fit. The first performance of the day at 11am had already sold out. And this event had just been socialized the day before!

I ended up booking all five of our tickets for the 1pm showing on that May date. But it just goes to show how quick anything that is both kid-related and low-cost/free will go here in New York City. There’s always seemingly someone else who is more click-happy than you are!

Fun coffee shops during work travel

What makes work travel so fun is not so much prepping for meetings and transiting through airports and being in Ubers; it’s actually getting to discover and do new things, including eating and drinking new things. When I used to do work travel frequently pre-pandemic, even when I used to visit cities that people would oftentimes say were boring or lackluster, I always managed to find some restaurant or cafe that I liked, and that would be my “me” time to relax and enjoy a fun, new coffee drink or a new local dish.

The place I stumbled upon on my last Boston trip that I knew I wanted to go back to this time around was Phin Coffee House. It happens to be just a few minutes walk away from my customer’s office, and it’s also got a Vietnamese spin to it. This comfortable, trendy cafe has different variations of Vietnamese coffee, a few matcha and hojicha latte options, as well as a decent selection of breakfast and lunch items. They also offer free Wi-Fi, and ample, spacious seating. Last time, I kept it simple and just got the Vietnamese iced coffee since it’s classic. This time, I decided to get their Boston cream latte, which is a creamy Vietnamese iced coffee with your choice of whipped milk. I chose oat, and when it was presented to me, it was almost like a totally whipped coffee drink! I loved it from the very first sip — it was strong, creamy, and not too sweet, but sweet enough. If I’d had more time, I would have wanted to get a second one — that was how good this was.

If I’m lucky, I’ll be back in the next couple months and hope to get this drink again, along with maybe a matcha or hojicha latte, too, and even a quick bite!

Boston: Hello, again. I’m ready to eat you!

It’s my second time to Boston in six months. I’m here again to meet the same customer I met back in September, and I also had dinner tonight with the same friend I met with back in September. It’s always a fun thing to come back to a familiar city where there are people you know and want to see again. And it’s also especially fun to try new foods here (and revisit both old and new favorites).

When I reached out to my friend to see what she wanted to have for dinner when we met, she told me that I had come at a good time because it’s actually Dine Out Boston the next two weeks. So she sent me the website and suggested I choose a place walking distance from my hotel, and she’d meet me there. I chose a trendy, upscale Mexican spot called Taco Azul, which had recently opened its second location in the historic Beacon Hill area. The menu was very simple: guacamole and queso, freshly fried blue corn tortilla chips, a selection of tacos with freshly made blue corn tortillas, and two dessert options. The drinks were incredible: I had a classic margarita while my friend had a watermelon sugar margarita, and both were extremely well made, with just the right amount of sweet, tart, and alcoholic zing. This margarita was likely the best margarita I’ve had in years. The tortillas for the tacos themselves were so fresh and so delicious; I could have easily eaten just the tortillas on their own and been happy. And the fillings we chose — beef birria, shrimp al pastor, and crispy fish — were well executed and delicious.

If you asked me back in my college years from 2004 to 2008, if I would suggest any Mexican restaurants in Boston, I would have scoffed at you and said that was a crazy idea. Now, Mexican cuisine is taking over New York and Boston, and there seems to be endless options from both the no-frills/cheap end of the spectrum, all the way to the high-end, “tasting menu”-esque restaurants.

The Pookster’s big smile

Kaia keeps coming to our bed in the middle of the night. Since around the time she’s turned 3, she’s become a lot more clingy to me. She’s exhibited a lot more baby tendencies, like wanting to be fed by us or held. And yes, I do indulge her. She is my baby after all, even if she is technically not a baby anymore. Though I missed her the last several days while I was away, I was happy to have some adult time, even if that meant being in a lot of back to back work sessions. I sent Chris a short video of me talking to her in Chinese a few of the days to keep her entertained. When I arrived home, just past midnight last night, I unpacked my bag and went into our bathroom to brush my teeth. I heard her sneak into our bedroom. She got on the bed and under the covers, assuming it was just Chris. She originally had herself positioned next to him, her head on his pillow. But she heard someone making noises in the bathroom and kept peering over to see who it was. When she realized it was me, she moved over to my side of the bed and on my pillow. When I got to the bed, her eyes were wide open and she gave me the biggest, happiest grin I’d seen her give in the middle of the night. She reached out to hug me. I told her I was back, but now it was very late, so she had to quickly go to sleep. She cuddled with me and fell asleep.

It was a long day of waiting for a delayed flight. But that moment of seeing her big, fat smile in the darkness made the journey worth it.