RIP Zip

Even though I hardly remember a time when there were no animals at my home growing up -- from dogs to cats to birds to fish. Including piranha! And snakes! -- I have never considered myself a pet person. Part of it is because ours were always outdoor pets, and outdoor duties went to my brothers (that's how it worked in my family). Beyond that, though, I've always been nervous about their sudden movements and start at fuzzy (or wet!) nuzzlings. And I'm not a huge fan of all the shedding.

Our dalmation, Zip (or Zipper, as I like to call him), didn't really have sudden movements. He was a beast and you could see -- and smell -- him coming a block away. When he got to you, he'd wag his tail so excitedly that you'd sometimes get a rather painful lashing. He was infinitely playful and cheerful, and never realized his own strength. I admit that I was scared of him in his early adulthood because he seemed so unpredictable.

As he got older, Zipper never lost his exuberance, never forgot about us. He would run to the gate whenever I came back to my parents' house, and whine until I reached over the fence to pet him. Then he'd sneeze -- always big, wet sneezes -- and get his slobber and fur all over my arms and pant legs.  Yum.

He got older and older. And arthritic. It gradually became harder for him to get up and run to me when I came over to my dad's house. My brother moved back home and started taking better care of Zipper, and he got better. But he didn't get younger. After my brother got back from a trip recently, he sent a concerned email to the familiy to let us know that Zipper would barely move and could hardly control his bladder or bowels anymore. I came to see him a couple of days after that and saw that he had weakened considerably since the last time I saw him. Still, my little Zipper came to greet me. He leaned all his weight into my leg, like he always did -- but was so wobbly that he ended up rolling over and ended up on his side. I helped him to his stomach, cleaned him up a bit, and took this picture. 



We said goodbye Zip last Saturday. It was so difficult to see him at the vet's -- my brother had to carry him into and out of the car -- his breathing had become so labored. He still hobbled around the room, sniffing at the different scents and chewing up pet treats. The veterinarian confirmed that there was nothing we could do that would restore him, and that the summer heat was probably making it more difficult for him...so we decided that it was time. I made sure to look into his face for a long, long while. So that I would remember him. So that he would know that he was loved. I think he knew.

I thought about what a luxury it is to be able to say goodbye to a loved one. I'm glad I got that opportunity with the Zipper. I'm glad I got to be there with my brother, that he didn't have to make the decision alone. We both agreed that Zip's quality of life wasn't very good at that point. That he had had a good -- no, great -- life, that he had brought us all a lot of happiness in all the ten or twelve years he was with us. That we were doing the right thing.

But it still sucked.

For the rest of the weekend I kept my mind and hands occupied with a lot of cleaning and ironing. The couple times I pulled up that picture on my phone, tears would well up and flow over. But I couldn't help it -- I mean, c'mon: that is one good looking doggy.

On Monday, I passed a woman walking her dog and mentally shook my head at the thought of her one day having to say goodbye to it, and that's why I could never have my own pet. But then it hit me: if I extended that thought to people, jobs, books, projects -- or anything, really -- I would never do anything. Or know anyone. Anything or anyone meaningful, that is. Just because something ends doesn't mean it's not worth having at all. Actually, it makes the time you have with that something even more precious.

I still don't see myself as a pet person, but I learned in that brief moment that memories are not lost; I can treasure them in my heart and mind. And, more importantly, I am not afraid of loving again, of loving more. And that's a very good thing.

Thanks for helping me realize that, little Zipper. I love you and miss you.

Read: On the Road

Oh my stars it took me so long to read this book! If I count from the first time I picked it up -- during a bout of homesickness-slash-patriotism while living in Japan -- and couldn't get past that fabulous quote about Roman candles, it's been 10 years. Yikes!

Last summer I was struck again by wanting to know more about America through the eyes of out great artists, and get some insights into why they were considered such good artists.

Blame it on the LA Times Travel section, those slender six or so pages that I look forward to each week. There was a great article about the wonders of Northern California, Monterey and Carmel and Big Sur. and I was at the library and picked up a copy of Cannery Row. Then there was the exhibit at the Hammer. Which reminded me about this broadcast, which I'd heard on NPR a few years ago. And, surprisingly, my library had the CD and DVD.  And that is how the universe conspired to draw me back to Kerouac.

I got past the Roman candles this time -- but still, the book wasn't a breeze for me. It took a lot of perseverance (a lot of renewals and even an overdue fine), but I can finally call this one done. I still don't really identify with much of it. But I appreciate a glimpse into that time, both in the life of America and in the life of a carefree young man.

I was actually much reminded of my younger brother as I read On the Road. I got a random call from him one summer weekend: between the last rest stop and the gas station from which he called me, he'd lost his wallet and GPS; he didn't know what to do. I told him to put on his best smile and get on the good graces of a kind person who might fill up his gas tank. He was successful, and rode back to the stop to see if someone might have found his wallet and GPS. No luck. So he headed home. So much for the impromptu road trip on his new motorcycle, right?

Wrong.  I later found out that on the way home he'd called our youngest brother ("Dude, spot me some cash"), met up for the exchange at the house, where he grabbed his passport and was promptly off all over again.  "I couldn't help it," he told me, "the road was just calling to me." 

He had a great time up north, making new friends, checking out different neighborhoods, and came to love San Francisco.  And knowing that I would have simply called the trip a fail had it been my lost wallet and GPS, I admired my brother's fearlessness in an entirely new way. A few weeks later, he posted to his Facebook wall that he'd just received a package in the mail: his wallet!  It was sent back by a young man who had the same first name, and the same appreciation for the unknowns, both good and bad, of being on the road.  A kindred spirit.

As I returned to the novel after my brother's experience, I was able to appreciate that semi-fictional cross-country roadtrippin' in a new way, too.  Of course I recommended it to my brother.

Though I might have hinted otherwise above, it actually is one of my dreams to do a California (or Pacific Northwest) coast road trip one of these days, and, eventually, a cross-country road trip, sometime in my life.  I've got bookmarks and plans and to-dos galore; all's left is the time off and the actual going.  It might be nice to have an extended trip at home (instead of always going abroad) one of these years.  Could be 2012, right?  We'll see.

Hangin' out

Back from a spontaneous night out with my dad and bro, as documented here courtesy of Instagram:

It was my Dad's first time on Metro Rail and I daresay he enjoyed it! His round trip fate cost less than it cost my bro to park when he met us in town--score. We ate at my second choice restaurant because the place I really wanted to go is now closed--boo. It was fun nonetheless, and topped off by a crowded Yogurtland stop (coconut, mango, and plain, with graham crunch cereal, mochi, and fruit).

It's good to hang with my guys every now and then. :)

Kauai revisited

I mentioned briefly that I went to Hawaii last summer.  I needed to get away on the heels of having called off the engagement, and my folks gladly let me tag along.  I'd never spent so much time with just my parents before, which made the week interesting, intense, and insightful all at once.  We had a good time overall, and now that I look back on it as the last trip I took with my mom, it's so much more meaningful.

[beach, kauai]

[shaved ice]

[poolside]

[4th of july]

[eating in]

In addition to hanging out by the pool and going to the beach, we took a ukelele lesson and went on a boat/snorkeling tour.  We attended an orientation of events at the resort, and the tour struck my mom's interest.  She harly ever suggested activities (she always did what everyone else wanted to do), and I knew that she wouldn't have mentioned it if I wasn't on the trip, so I went along (despite my own inclinations to wallow).  It was a splurge.  We woke up early the next morning and headed out to sea and over about 14 miles of the Napili Coast.  I'm glad we had a chance to see Kaua'i from that point of view -- looking inland we saw kayakers and hikers, tons of waterfalls, the mountains and vegetation, and with us out at sea, as dolphins (my first time!); we even stopped for a bit of snorkeling.  My poor dad got a bit seasick, but my mom and I loved it.

[folks, napili coast tour]

[napili coast, kauai]

I remember sitting on the boat on the bumpy way back, wind and water whipping my face.  I simply closed my eyes and held on, letting nature have its way.  I felt vulnerable yet free and strong and able... a bit scared, out of my element, but at peace.  Later my mom said that she saw the expression on my face and knew I was in a good place, enjoying the moment.  (There are tears in my eyes as I remember and type that.)  Of course she knew, because she knew me: she was my mom.

[me and mom, kauai 2010]

[pink plumeria, picked by mom]

[sunset, kauai]

I don't know much these days.  The person that I always thought would be there, so much so that I never accounted for her absence, is now gone.  I wanted her to see me get married, I wanted her to see me become a mother, I wanted her to hold and take naps with her grandchild.  And I can't even say that at least she knew who I would marry.  How strange, yet how natural, is it to mourn the future, those things that will never be?

49 Days

Halloween was especially on the periphery this year because of my mom's passing.  Last weekend marked a milestone in the mourning process: 49 days.  We -- my family, my aunt, my cousins -- had been going to the gravesite and then the temple for the past six Sundays.  On the 49th day extended family and friends are invited to come to the temple and join in the ceremony and a vegetarian meal afterwards. 

The first 49 days is believed by Buddhists to be an important period, during which time the deceased is reincarnated and makes their transition to the new life.  Prayers are offered to guide and support the spirit.

Because of my personal religious beliefs -- but moreover because I know my mom didn't believe in reincarnation -- I don't put much stock in the meaning of the ritual (had to find out about it online).  I attended more for the cultural aspect of the mourning process, which establishes certain intervals at which the family comes together to grieve and also celebrate the deceased:  we went back to the grave three days after the burial, then once a week for seven weeks; the extended family will come together again at 100 days, and again at the year.  The increased intervals are meant to "ease" the presence of the deceased out of daily life.  I like that we're not expected to jump back into our regular schedules right after the funeral or after the bereavement leave allocated by work.  I like that it's a yearlong process, and that we will continue to meet each year on my mom's death anniversary.  And always on her birthday, and Mother's Day.

[family at 49]

To me, the larger gatherings are more for the "outer" circles of family and friends, where I am not so much mourning or remembering but simply "showing face."  For me and for my immediate family, it's not, "See ya!" until 100 days.  We continue to grieve, both as a unit and individually.  I do so by allowing the laughs and tears to come as they may, and by (re)turning to words -- self-help books, memoirs, articles, and yes, even my own.

Halloween

It's probably my least favorite 'holiday,' but I simply must post a picture of the Goo's first Halloween.

[monkey, crawling]

[monkey, getting up]

[monkey, standing]

[monkey, playing]

He went trick-or-treating around the block with his parents, while Ifixed myself a quiet dinner (leftovers, I admit) and called it an early night.  

In keeping with the Goo's costume, here are some old Halloween pictures I found, from about two years ago (?).  It's the last dress-up party I went to, hosted by Monkey+Banana.  I came as Jack Skellington: work clothes + hand-knitted mask.

  [mini pumpkins]

 [mr. monkey]

[mrs. banana + me]

 [costumed college crew]

Mourning

My mom passed away two weeks ago. Two days after I got back from vacation in Japan.

After a surreal week of making decisions and being present and getting very little sleep, I am shifting over to retreat mode: quietly. thinking. remembering. laughing. crying. and slowly: sorting. cleaning. giving away. keeping. smelling. loving.

The words will come back here, sooner or later; my mom would have wanted them to.

I'm around. If you know how to get a hold of me, feel free to reach out.

Getaway

What do the following items have in common?

[clothes]

[books]

Kinda random, huh?  Well, here's another big hint:

[swim + snorkel]

I'm in Hawaii -- Kaua'i, to be exact.  With my folks. A last-minute getaway.  I brought my laptop, which means in addition to reading and writing the few postcards I've already purchased, I will be catching up on my ninja animation as well as keeping up with the blogging.  Woot.

I found some sparklers at the local supermarket, so we're off to have our own little show out on the balcony.  Happy 4th of July!

Graduation weekend

Since we had such a good time wine tasting over Memorial Day weekend, and I knew we'd be nearby again for my brother's graduation, I suggested to my family to head up a day early and relax before going to the Saturday ceremony.  Everyone agreed, and a family road trip was born.

We only went to two wineries, but that's cool.

[melville vineyards]

We got to spend time doing other things, like walking around Solvang (where we stayed) and watching the US vs. UK match.

[team usa]

The weather was gorgeous at graduation.  We spread a blanket on the lawn and relaxed.  And then were lucky enough to catch our grad at both processional and recessional.

[congrats]

We ended the night with a lovely dinner at Tupelo Junction on State Street (I hear the Bloody Marys are good, but I can only vouch for the blackberry mint mojito) before the long ride home.

[cheers!]

I was beat after just two days: traveling with family is always adventuresome, always yielding funny stories and good memories.  Thanks for giving us a reason to do the road trip, brother -- and congratulations!  Time to go job hunting...

May 5th menu

When it's my turn to cook, it can be a very long day.  Sometimes I have the meal planned in advance, but more often than not I am public transporting home, driving to market for ingredients, and heading to my brother's or folks' to wash + chop and then cook.  Lately I've been going to the farmers market during lunch and letting my findings there dictate the menu.  I couldn't be bothered yesterday, and it wasn't until the end of the work day that I realized it was both Cinco de Mayo and Kodomo no Hi. 

Luckily my brother and sis'-in-law had all the goods for guac; we cheated a bit by buying a rotisserie chicken.  Even after a stop at home and two markets, we had dinner on the table by 7:00.  Thanks especially to DC, who came to pick me up, and always offers helping hands.

I'm not sure if Mexican and Japanese cuisines go together, but in the spirit of multiculturalism we had a little bit of each last night.

Beverage: Michelada (made with dark or light beer)

[my first michelada]

Appetizers: Guacamole + chips; Somen {cold noodles + sauce}

Mains: Chicken soft tacos;  Hamachi Kama {yellowtail collar} + rice

Dessert: Ice cream!

Banquets and birthdays

It's been Celebration Central round these parts lately.  The past week and a half, in a flash:

[last wedding of the year]

[a 21st birthday]

[thanksgiving]

[chinese banquet birthday dinner]

The fridge is full of all kinds of leftovers!

Phew!  We're all caught up!  Upon the suggestion of M+M I've reformatted the memory card on my DSLR and am now able to upload pictures without the USB cable.  Makes life loads easier.  Which will affect my blogging.  For the better.  I hope.