After I got my GPS unit all fixed and back to normal on July 4, the rest of that holiday weekend was awesome: it was all about the me time. I slept in, I hung with the pups, I sunbathed on the deck, I did some yard work, played around with Photoshop, hit the pool… it was the quite possibly the best three days of chill I’ve had in a long time.

Of course, that doesn’t mean the weekend was entirely without incident. Ugh. God, these stupid pricks in my neighborhood… five fucking overprivileged, elitest assholes were at the pool all day Sunday, from like 9 – 5. Seriously. So for whatever reason, there were some Mexican landscapers working that day and well, at some point during those 8 hours, they busted out the leaf blower. So lazy ass dickwad and friends basically started yelling at the Latino woman blasting the leaves near the pool fence. “What the fuck are you doing? What are you doing? Can’t you see…” blah, blah, blah. At first, she didn’t even know he was talking to her. I mean, he practically got the attention of the entire neighborhood with his obscene hollering. Since he was off that day, apparently, so was the entire rest of the world. Needless to say, she was forced to stop even though our home owners association hires her for that job. Wtf?

Who the hell did he think he was? It’s all about having the cake and eating it too. Pisses me off. Like the snobby community wants all the pretty flower beds and manicured lawns and bullshit plantings, but they don’t want to see the work that’s involved with creating their little Disneyland, right? Fucking moron. I wanted to yell back to shut the fuck up and go laze around on his couch since he obviously wasn’t using the pool to swim.

Also, I want to point out that all weekend long, someone in our community was doing home renovations, meaning I could hear a frickin’ radial saw and pounding construction noise all damn day. Did he bitch and moan and yell at those people? I think not. Racist pig. I was disgusted.

So on that delightful, happy note…. aren’t you glad for the update? No really, my weekend was otherwise glorious. Assholes just tick me off.

Oh man. I spent all fucking day trying to restore the North America maps on my stupid Garmin StreetPilot C330. At work, I used my GPS to play around with some new GPS data prepped by our GIS specialist and in the process of adding new data, I erased the standard maps that came with the unit. Jesus Christ. You have no idea what a fucking pain it has been trying to get this shit back. Garmin certainly does not make this shit easy. No restore. No hard reset. Sure, you can download the City Navigator North America NT or whatever, but you have to pay like $100, even if it’s the version that came with the unit. All day, I tell you. I was on all kinds of sketchy sites, fiddling with torrents and rars and zips… I must have been living on Mars, because all of it is new to me!

And then the stupid SD slot is buggy as hell. Pop the card in, pop the card out. Sometimes it’s recognized, sometimes not. A total crapshoot. But now as the fireworks are going off at 9:30 this evening, I’ve got it all back. Thank goodness. Now I can actually chill out this holiday weekend.

So last night Tina and I saw Cabaret at a small theater in the city. Respectable attempt but that musical is just way too lavish to pull off in a mini theater with a 15 x 8 ft. stage. Ain’t cutting it. Cabaret definitely is a production where you have to go all out. Oh well. Live and learn. Cozy theaters are ideal for one-person shows like comedy stand ups, but they’re totally inadequate for productions with full casts. For those, I want the full effect with complete immersion.

I have a lot on my mind these days. This evening, I feel like a horrible daughter. My father called around dinnertime today asking me to research renewing the business license for his rental condo in DC. The thing is, my parents are fairly low maintenance. They rarely ask me for anything, but every time they DO ask, my father always couches it as “my English no good so… ” blah, blah. I don’t know if he’s trying to be self-deprecating or what but it just pisses me off! I mean, stop making excuses! Hello, he was a prominent OB/GYN for 30 years! His English is good enough for that, and now he’s retired so why can he not get a better handle on figuring out the system? Am I accusing him of being lazy? Am I so self-centered I can’t even help my own father on such a minor request? I know, I came across so bratty, but I’m just so frustrated. The guy is super competent, super smart. When he asks me computer problems, I write everything down step by step. I email the directions. Yet, he and my mother never follow the directions. It’s as if they don’t even read the fucking email. When I call to follow up, it’s always “I’m old; I don’t know computers; I can’t type…” Well you sure as hell figure it out to monitor your stocks and to do your trading transactions! I know it’s hard. I lived in Shanghai and couldn’t even read but why is he letting himself lose that edge? Whatever happened to “hit the iron while it’s hot” and “sharpen the knife?”

Then he got all upset that I was annoyed. He explained that whenever he calls places to get more information, the damn automated answering service never understands what he says. And when he does finally get to a person, that person doesn’t understand and doesn’t help him. So fine. I understand that, and I’m sorry for the shitty experience. But the computer problems? There’s no excuse. I mean, I take the time to write out the instructions, he should at least try to follow them. Sigh. I’m just so stressed about everything that’s going on. My best friend is depressed and I can’t help her. My other friend has terminal cancer and his wife is flipping out. My parents are getting older, and I’m on the other side of the country. I call every week and there’s nothing to say. And then my father asks for help, and I get all impatient. Why? Am I trying to teach him a lesson? Am I applying the whole “teach a man to fish” principle? Seems ridiculous doesn’t it? Honestly, I don’t know why I give attitude. That’s just how I interact with my parents. I need to cut the crap. I mean, I have good intentions but whatever. They’re old. Just do it for them. Guess that’s my conclusion. So fine. I’m calling the DC government first thing tomorrow morning to figure out the license renewal fee (can’t believe they don’t post that shit online). And I’m researching PC Anywhere tonight so I can set it up remote access on their computer in August. I know MSN offers remote access, but I can’t even get them to follow the steps to log onto IM! Fucking A.

In other news, I’ve been hearing a lot about the link between forgiveness and attaining true happiness. My brother emailed me on my birthday, and I never replied. I still haven’t really spoken to him since probably 2003 when he lived with us. I just don’t want to deal with him on any level. Intrinsically, I suppose this means that I don’t forgive him for being a spoiled, inconsiderate ass. But all this talk of learning to forgive…. My response? What about accountability? What about learning to be a decent, responsible, considerate person? Fuck forgiveness. Seriously.

Sigh. I finally did it. After months of deliberation, I finally wrote a letter enclosing contact information for my skin clinic to the lady at work. Jesus. I must have written the letter ten different times– just couldn’t get the tone right. In the end, I kept things brief: I just told her I had struggled with shitty skin for 15 years and this place helped me…

I put the envelope on her desk during lunch, and then the rest of the afternoon, I walked around on pins and needles. I know, what was the big fucking deal really? I don’t know. I guess it’s such a personal and sensitive subject: I didn’t want to hurt her feelings and yet I felt so guilty having sat on a possible solution for so long… I was so nervous my hands went numb.

In the end, she sent me a quick email thanking me for the contact and saying that she appreciated help from people who knew what a pain all of this was. What a relief. I hope the clinic helps her.

In other news, a few of my friends are going through some tough times right now. My best friend from high school is having a hell of a time dealing with the loss of her father a couple months ago, all while juggling the pressures and stress of veterinary medicine. She has shit insurance also and I sometimes forget that outside of California, coverage isn’t so great when it comes to mental and emotional health services. Thankfully, my days at LifeLine Shanghai came in handy today. I browsed the site for their international headquarters and came across a link to Befrienders Worldwide, which offers hotlines offering emotional support. Thank goodness for nonprofits I tell you.

It’s been a rough week: I’ve been feeling rather fatigued. Last weekend, I was busy dealing with another SQL Server intrusion to our database at work. Pain in the ass. Stayed up late into the night trying to troubleshoot. Thankfully, I resolved the issue… well, for now. I need my web developer to get on it man.

At the same time, I’ve had some difficulty concentrating this week at work. John and I met up with our friend for happy hour. His wife was totally stressed: she had nothing to say, didn’t want anything to eat… was visibly worried. He shed some more light on his status: the cancer has spread to his kidney, liver, and lung– yeah, pretty advanced and very serious. My previous entry about him having had symptoms for 6-8 months was wrong. His main problem was constipation on and off and then occasional puking. I don’t know: it’s a moot point now. But I guess part of the disconnect was that he doesn’t tell his wife everything. And then some misinformation occurs when she transfers information to me. Long story short, the doctors saw some signs earlier on, but they had attributed them to other things. So now we’re talking stage 4 (of 4) adenocarcinoma. It’s important to be hopeful, but frankly, I’m really scared and really sad.

In the trivial issues of my own life, I recently went back on the Pill. I know, woo hoo. I had had enough with the cramps and full-blown periods, so on my last visit to Planned Parenthood (which I LOVE btw), I got hooked up. And since I’m a vain beotch, I asked my doc a million questions about the impact of the Pill on my skin. She didn’t seem the least bit worried. I mean, hello: severe, disfiguring acne!! But whatev. She said that particular pill would be fine. And now I think I actually have to contend with a host of other issues. For one thing, I’ve been stuffing my face this last week. Maybe it’s the stress, maybe the meds… I’m really not sure. What I do know, however, is that DB– which was previously within reach– has now eluded me again. Sure, it could be the ice cream or chocolate or fried rice or pork ribs. Fucking A.

Plus, my skin has been itchy as hell. It’s like the goddamn shingles all over again, except all frickin’ over: back, shoulders, scalp, legs. Twice this week I was so damn itchy, I couldn’t sleep. At work, I know my coworkers were thinking I was Pigpen or something. Finally, I had Bubs apply Benedryl cream to my back last night. Freakface tried to apply it WITHOUT using his fingers. Yeah, in other words, he took off the cap, and then I felt the scratchy tube opening scraping against my skin. Jesus, it’s not like I have leprosy. Fucker. After I yelled at him, he used his fingers but in very swift slapping motions so as to minimize the skin-skin contact. Nice. Gotta love the hubby. In sickness and in health my ass. But whatever. That cream gave me some much needed relief. No itching at work today. Yay.

So I’m glad the weekend is almost here. I need to sleep in and just decompress. Feel really stressed out with all the crap that’s going on. Btw, I finally drafted a letter to the coworker with acne. I wrote and re-wrote that damn thing a million times because I just couldn’t get the right feel across. But Tina helped me, so I think it’s ready. And I gotta do it. I really hope my clinic can help her. I wonder if she’ll come talk to me after she reads my letter. I’ll probably break down and cry like those people on the ProActiv commercials. I don’t know if it’s the damn birth control pills or what but I’m a big wuss these days. Need to toughen up!

In spite of my lighthearted earlier post (about stuffing my face), life really doesn’t get any easier. In my teens, I really thought I knew it all. Every bit of drama back then was real: after all, if I’d felt it in my heart and in my gut and in my soul, it was most certainly (and undeniably) true. In my 20s, I realized just how little I knew in my teens. The world really was so much bigger than just me. My eyes opened in wonderment, and there was this sense that I was seeing outside the ivory tower of my youth (finally). There was so much to do, so much to conquer, and it was just a matter of finding the right path. Now I’m in my 30s. The idealism is not as fervent as it used to be. I’ve witnessed problems with the system, and I’m no longer certain there will always be solutions. While the resiliency and fortitude of human beings continues to astound me, I see a new fragility that I rarely noticed before.

Today I learned that my friend has cancer. By no means is he a young chap (he turned 50 last year), but neither do I consider him outside our generation (though by numbers, I suppose he is). For the last 6-8 months, he’s had trouble with his bowels and trouble keeping his food down. How long has this been going on, you ask? Yes! Half a year at least! I recall his wife telling me a few months ago that he was having odd issues. I told her then that he needed to see the doctor. He’s a smart guy, and admittedly, sometimes his wife is overly neurotic, borderline hypochondriacal (can you believe that’s a word?) so I didn’t push it. But certainly, whenever she mentioned some health-related symptom, I advised her to get him to the doctor. Long story short, doctors found a 4-cm tumor in his stomach last week. His kidney and liver numbers looked strange, so they ran more tests. Today, his wife told me one kidney is completely shot and now they are testing his liver to see exactly what kind of cancer this is. I asked what the doctors recommended– surgery? Chemo seems to be the only option now. So what does this mean exactly? I have no idea. His wife is Indonesian-Chinese. English is her second language. Considering that medicine is difficult enough to understand even for someone with English as a first language, I can’t imagine how overcome she is with anxiety, not only having just learned that her husband is gravely ill but also not fully understanding his condition.

A part of me is so angry. Why the fuck did he wait so goddamn long? What kind of emotion or force would keep someone who is facing daily, blatant signs of trouble from seeking medical attention? I’m so frustrated and crazed and puzzled by what could have been critical six months! And yet, here he is and now we know. What now? How quickly life can change. One minute you’re twiddling your thumbs. The next minute, you are faced with a deadline– one you never realized was so damn close.

His poor wife. She was utterly distraught on the phone. What to do? Wait for answers. Follow doctor orders, and fight as hard as fucking possible. Hope the doctors and medical instruments and fancy expensive facilities can change the course. Is that what faith is? The hope for a miracle, the hope for a drop of good news in a sea of bad?

Six weeks later, BBD is still going strong. Below is just a sampling of his recent dinner creations. Now you know why DB (dancer’s body) has eluded me for so long. Regardless, like I said, whatever it takes to keep Bubbey home. I’m scouring the job boards nightly for part-time/contract work to supplement my paltry government salary…

black bean burritos
pulled pork sandwiches
homemade cheeseburgers with asparagus side
pot roast with veggies
walnut pesto baked shells with cheese/broccoli side
cod with potatoes
chicken soup
mango shrimp skewers
pork chops with raspberry glaze
angel hair pasta with homemade spaghetti meat sauce
salad with homemade dressing

other tasties:
blackberry jam
strawberry jam
pickles
mozzarella + tomatoes
key lime pie (for my b-day)

I’m keeping record of performances I’ve seen since moving back to the States, so here’s my list:

Kathleen Madigan
Josh Rogan
Judah ?
Cirque Ka
Miss Saigon
Showboat
Annie Get Your Gun
Beauty and the Beast x 2
Little Women
Cirque Kooza
Man of La Mancha
A Thousand Clowns
American Sound
The Odd Couple
Steel Magnolias
Little Women
Little Shop of Horrors
Les Miserables
My Fair Lady
Cabaret x 2
The Kamau Bell Curve
7 Sins
Phantom of the Opera

My buddy Tina and I planned ahead. Big time. We purchased tickets for Phantom of the Opera way back in November for a June 14 show. Yes, that’s how hard core I am about theater. She’d been raving about this particular show, and as life would have it, she had to miss it. Her father had back surgery in Bangkok (that’s where her parents live). So, despite months of anticipation, she wasn’t able to attend. Total bummer. But her hubby joined, so the three of us drove 2+ hours to Sac. Yes, it was too far. The show was quite good, but I have to say, it’s not among my favs. The opera parts are just a tad too cacophonous for me. Lesson learned. Sacramento is reserved for the creme de la creme, i.e. Les Mis or Cabaret. Speaking of Cabaret, I’m going to see it at the SF PLayhouse next month. Love Goldstar, my source for discount event tickets. It’s wonderful for small venue performances.

What else is happening… let’s see. I took my second sick day ever at the District. John was sick last weekend, and he passed the stinging eyes, nasal congestion on to me. Hurray. My method of treatment involved baking myself under the hot summer rays, and now my abdomen is red. I hope to be well enough to work tomorrow though. Love my job, you know. Can’t be away from it for long.

I finally broke my weight barrier by the way. In recent months, I had packed on as much as ten pounds… I’ve shed five now, so things are good. The previous situation was nothing desperate really, but you know me… dancer’s body, that’s the goal. Now that hip hop class is officially over, I’m moving onto advanced yoga and well hip hop in the privacy of my own home (got a hip hop DVD for my b-day). Tonight I’m hitting the pool.

Speaking of the pool, last night we took the dogs with us. Immediately upon entering the gate, they went nuts. Picked up a scent and just went crazy. Turned out, a raccoon had gone up a tree. And it was a big guy too. He was essentially stuck in the tree, and both dogs started scratching and jumping on the trunk. I’ve read that coons can get quite violent with dogs, so I started getting very nervous. I called both dogs, but they totally ignored me. Instinct had kicked in and they were in a total zone. Then the top of the tree started swaying around as the coon repositioned himself. I could have sworn he was about to fall out of the tree and get cornered by the dogs. Let me tell you, the whole incident was but a few minutes but I was stressed. I finally grabbed a hold of the dogs, spanked them for not coming when called, and we left. Stupid fuckers. They are going to get themselves slashed for real. No more pool time for them. Apparently, they never learned their lesson from the skunk and now they’ve moved on to more dangerous critters.

Ok, so my last post was a tad bitchy. And to come clean, I didn’t handle the situation in an optimal way. In fact, I failed miserably at this particular instance of anger management. Our couples therapist Linda surely would have been disappointed. And John is now totally traumatized. When he first saw the live post, he called for doom. And now he says I’ve got him embroiled in a scandal. Such the drama queen.

So first, apologies to my dear friend and her fiance (who definitely thinks I’m loony now). Yes, I should have broached my issues directly and before posting my scathing tirade of an entry. Somehow the visit pushed my Johnny buttons and well, enough said. I’m not proud.

In other, less dramatic news, I turned 32 on Sunday. John and I spent the weekend in Vancouver, BC. Omg, what a beautiful city… I’m in love. Totally reminded me a bit of Seattle, Portland, Hong Kong, and Shanghai all in one. The weather was a cold and misty, but I just loved Vancity: lush and green, peaceful yet bustling, and tons of good food from all over. Gotta love a place with Bubble tea, sushi, and Thai.

Public transportation was pretty good too. The elevated rail (SkyTrain) was somewhat limited, but there were lots of Prius taxis (hurray!) and the electric public buses were ultra clean. And the Canadians are so frickin’ laid back. We didn’t have exact change (coins only) for the bus, and the driver just told us to have it next time. No big deal. In the US, we would’ve gotten kicked to the curb for sure.

This was a mini-vacation, but I was all stressed out. You see, two nights before departure, I discovered that my passport had expired on April 1. Yes, I know. How could I let something like this slip through the cracks? Don’t worry, it’s on the Google calendar now: once every ten years, renew the f-ing passport.

Apparently, the US had recently implemented some new policy (Western Hemisphere Travel Initiative) requiring passports even for travel to Canada and Mexico. Long story short, after researching all this crap online, I nearly canceled my trip. I had it all planned out with Bubs. If they denied me access, he was to proceed and leave me behind. Birthday or no birthday: after all, the hotel was fully paid via Priceline. Thankfully, I had the nerve to just try to get through at the ticket counter. No one fucking cared. Yeah, I had to get into a separate line for international documents check but whatev: the agents checked my license and birth certificate, I went through additional security, and that was it.

Bottom line? All this urgent expedited same-day passport processing bullshit is a total scam. Well for travel to Canada at least. On the trip back home, the Canadian United airlines agent, Tony Scott (I’m sending him a letter of kudos, btw) was the sweetest gem of a guy. Bumped us up to an earlier flight and even gave us Economy Plus seating… free. Now that is class and service. I’ve fully returned to United’s corner.

Of course, the US Customs and Borders agent was not so pleasant. She chastised me for knowingly traveling with an expired passport. Thankfully, the agent standing next to her tempered her irritation saying, “Well, we can’t keep someone who is a citizen from entering, so just advise her to renew the passport, and off she goes.” Yes, I got lucky. But you know what? The WHTI is so lame. Doesn’t make me feel any safer. And seriously, it’s yet another paperwork hassle. Current processing times for passports is 4 weeks. Rush service is 3 weeks. Either way, my shit is in the mail as we speak. Getting that crap renewed ASAP.