New home visit

After months enduring the new homeowner’s life, from picking what shade of grey-eggshell to paint the house to what type of wood to redo the floors in, my couple friend in Long Island City has finally finished and deemed the apartment worthy of a visit, and how flattering to find out that Chris and I are the first friends (after their visiting friend from California) to see the apartment. For the last four months, they’ve spent almost every weekend working on shopping and picking out furniture, building furniture, overseeing construction, and figuring out how to lay out their apartment, and it’s basically been like a full-time job on top of having an actual full-time job. The idea of being a homeowner just based on what they shared with us today makes my head spin. These are all the little benefits of renting and not owning; someone else has to deal with these issues and not me.

And on my end, because I knew I would see them soon, I wanted to get them a housewarming gift, but I had no idea what their home style was and was worried if I picked out something decorative that would’t go with their current look. I toiled over multiple ideas and finally settled on a set of Portuguese ceramic bowls, with the look of cracked glass inside them. These are the kinds of things I’d like, and they look very sophisticated. Plus, they’re dishwasher safe and are a faded blue color, so they’d go with lots of things. Who doesn’t need bowls to eat out of? I got a gift receipt just in case, but I told them that in the event they didn’t like them, I’d just take them for myself and get them another gift. 🙂 But they ended up really liking them and keeping them.

“These make our kitchen seem more adult like!” My friend exclaimed.

Positive demeanor

During a meeting with my manager today, we were discussing some potential road blocks I may encounter since my ramp period has ended. A number of customers probably won’t want to talk to me and will ignore my emails, so he told me not to take it personally and to try my best.

“One of the reasons we hired you (other than being smart) is that you have a very friendly, positive demeanor,” he said smiling (or smirking?). “You’re the kind of person who customers want to meet and want to talk to, so make sure you show your winning smile and make them want to engage with you!”

Considering I was raised by two glass-half-empty parents, it’s actually a bit comical that I come across this way to new people I meet, especially at prospective jobs. Or, maybe I just have everyone fooled?

Off with the shoes

If there’s one thing I respect above anything else in an Asian household, it’s that shoes always, always go off as soon as you enter the house. Nothing is dirtier than trampling all over someone’s house with your outside shoes on. It’s absolutely disgusting. Without even knowing it, we all step on the filthiest things: sidewalks that have had dog poop and urine covered in them and simply wiped off; endless spit, insects, cigarette buds and ashes, gasoline and dirt from the streets. Many studies on dirt, grime, and germs over the last couple years have shown that the bottoms of our shoes have even had traces of e. coli. No one wants e. coli, even the non-Asians. Even Martha Stewart advocated for a shoes-off household, and we all know how much I love and respect Martha Stewart. Crafting for a living would be my dream.

This apartment that we’re moving into is supposed to be fully cleaned before we move in; even the windows are getting a washing, both on the inside and out. I pressed the leasing agent about how clean it would be. All I could think about were all the disgusting feet that have walked through this apartment for viewings and how dirty the bottoms of their shoes were. I want all the counters sanitized and the floors swept and mopped… because if I move in and feel any bit of grime under my feet, I will probably abandon all the packed boxes and luggage and just start mopping. Really.

 

Dim sum in Brooklyn

Today at a dim sum palace in Brooklyn Chinatown, it was like the typical Chinese restaurant situation where you see disparate groups of people all seated at the same round table with a Lazy Susan: an Asian woman with her brown husband, a Chinese couple with their four-year-old who won’t sit still unless he has his iPad in front of him with a handful of Pepperidge Farm goldfish, and two older Asian female friends with a random eight-year-old girl who refuses to eat or speak. Except in this case, we were all technically the same party. My aunt always insists on inviting random Jehovah’s Witness Chinese friends to our family meals. It’s like her thing. She always treats them, and she probably never gets treated back, and she really doesn’t care; her generosity seriously knows no bounds. My cousin and his wife didn’t acknowledge or even say hi to the random Chinese friend my aunt met in China who joined us for lunch. The eight-year-old girl stared into space and didn’t touch any of the food that her mom’s friend, who took her to this restaurant, put on her dish, and Chris and I happily ordered away and got all our favorite dim sum dishes, and then some.

That’s a day in the life of the extended Wong family meal. Fun, fun, fun.

Moving

We’re about 90 percent of the way there to finalizing a lease on a new apartment. It’s been a long search with lots of really terrible places, but this new place we will be moving into, if nothing catastrophic happens, will be the first home that Chris and I will have picked out together and decorate together. It will really be our own home.

We were thinking about what we’ll miss most about our current apartment, where he’s lived for seven years, and I for over five years. He said he’ll miss the shower pressure from the shower head the most… not that our new shower head won’t be as good, but it will just be new, whereas the other was familiar.

I think that’s what I’ll miss the most — the familiarity, the oddities of this apartment I can expect, like the fact that there’s a working chimney we never use as a chimney, but instead use the fireplace as an area to store our wine and liquor. There’s the big mirror in the lounge room that I’ve always enjoyed for partially vain reasons, but also because it makes our small, cozy living room space seem much bigger and more open than it actually is. I will miss the exposed brick in this apartment, and even those odd cut out windows in the living room and bedroom where you can see the light from the other room when you look up. It’s always comforting to have a routine where things are familiar, and I will miss that. But then at this new place, I will find a new routine, and that inevitably will become a new comfort.

Tea obsession

When I was growing up, a familiar and comforting smell was the strong scent of French roast coffee wafting through the house as my dad brewed his standard two cups of coffee to start the day. Because I always loved the smell and would tell my dad how good it was, he would smile proudly and say that one day, I’d become just like him and be a coffee drinker.

Well, I quashed that pretty quickly when I got to college and decided I didn’t really care for coffee unless it was the occasional latte or cappuccino. What I really learned to love, and I’m not sure where it started, was tea, and tea of all kinds. And it became a bit of an obsession. I was having tea gifted to me from places like China, Taiwan, and Japan. Then, i started traveling and buying tea on my own. The collection of Mariage Freres tea I have from France has gotten a little absurd, and Chris added to that collection today by bringing home two more varieties from his Paris work trip. I picked up some very grassy senchas in Japan. And my mother-in-law lovingly brings me back my favorite standard English Breakfast tea from Australia because Dilmah, a Sri Lankan tea company, doesn’t distribute to the U.S. It’s the smoothest English tea I’ve had, especially with some milk.

A friend of mine told me he wanted to get into tea, and asked me what brands I’d recommend. I hesitated for a second and realized other than Ten Ren, which sells good Taiwanese tea in the U.S… there were no brands I’d readily recommend to him that are widely available here because most of the brands I drink and own are from travels abroad. I guess there are a few matchas, and you’re sometimes able to find Mariage Freres in tins at Dean and Deluca, but I’ve heard from acquaintances that the tea from these tins can taste stale.

I guess I’m the uppity one now.

Mentoring appreciation event

Tonight, I went to my mentoring organization’s end-of-year appreciation event for some drinks, appetizers, and mingling with the program coordinators. While it was enjoyable and in a lively venue, what I didn’t expect to happen was to run into a former colleague who had left my last company just over a year ago. She was one of the very few people I spoke to and liked — at least, for decent small talk in the kitchen. And since it’s been over a year, she really let it rip when it came to how screwed up things were from an organizational standpoint, not to mention how the technology didn’t even work (and barely existed), and lastly, the level of overt sexism that was rampant there.

It’s really amazing when you’re colleagues and you have no idea that this person you speak with every week has all the same opinions that you do, and you learn them all much later. But the world keeps turning, and the sexism and delusional thinking continues.

Family leave in medical industry

Whenever I chat with my friend who is in a neurology residency program, I always feel a little guilty talking about my life — everything from the trips I am taking to the flexibility of my job to the fact that I can work remotely (doctors… can’t really work remotely). But today, I actually got angry at her industry when she told me that at the current hospital where she’s working, there is no recognized family leave, maternal or paternal. When the doctors in the hospital have a baby, they have to take time out of their sick leave (which is only about a week and a half) and their vacation time (that’s only two-ish weeks). Then, they have to make up that time later. 

“What the fuck?” I just blurted it out, not that my friend minds my occasional potty mouth, but I was just in total shock and disgust. I know at this point, I really should not be surprised at all; the U.S. is the only industrialized country in the world to have zero legal paid family leave (wasn’t it only Papua New Guinea that didn’t… and it’s sad to even put ourselves in the same category as them?) and to not recognize that new parents should be with their children. But it hurts even more to think that those in the medical profession, people who are devoting their lives to the health and wellness of others, can’t even take care of themselves and their new family members, and their lives are discounted.

It’s no wonder doctors are committing suicide and burning out at faster rates than the average person. Their lives and even their babies’ lives don’t matter to their employers.

Secrets, secrets

I called my mom this evening on her mobile phone. I actually noticed that the last two times I’d called her in the last week at times when she’s usually home, she wasn’t. But I figured it was just because she was out and about. Today, I found out that she and my dad have been in Las Vegas for the last week, and she never even told me she went. “Oh, I just wanted you to know that your dad and I were in Las Vegas for the last week, and we’re coming home today,” she said nonchalantly. “This is confidential, so you know not to tell anyone.”

I always respond this way: no one cares where you go. No one will be jealous the way you think. But this time, I just said “okay,” in my usual annoyed tone, and she told me not to give her attitude.

So my parents love to keep secrets, to warn all the time not to tell anyone anything, not to share information. She even told me not to tell anyone I was looking for a new job when I was (yes, because looking for a new job or going to Las Vegas is likened to… you know, murdering someone or robbing a bank). Now, they’re even keeping more secrets from me. Before, the only things they never told me was information about what was happening with Ed when he was around.

We all know how that turned out. No good can come of this. They will never learn. Ever.

Furniture

In addition to the madness of looking for a new apartment in a place as infuriating and fast paced as Manhattan, the other frustrating thing that awaits shortly after we choose our new place is… what furniture are we going to put into it? For the most part, we’ve decided that the majority of our furniture in our current apartment will not come with us, not because we don’t like it, but more because it was bought specifically for the shape and quirks of this apartment, so if we’re lucky, we’ll be able to sell at least some of it to the next tenant who moves in here.

I visited my friend’s new apartment yesterday, and he showed me the new dresser that he got from West Elm that I thought was nice; he told me it was a good deal. I’ve never seriously looked at furniture there, so tonight, I decided to take a look at their website to see what we could potentially buy for the new place this summer. And again, I had the same shock I had back in 2008 when my then roommate and I went furniture shopping; things are THIS expensive, really? The night stand tables that I liked cost… $299 each?! How is this even possible?!

Maybe I will end up spending time on Craigslist this summer, too, in an effort to save money and get cheaper things and at the same time drive myself even crazier.