LA or Bust

This is a continuation of a previous blog in April "Should I stay or Go" about my youngest bro Matt's March wedding in LA. Skyping w/my folks it just seemed like me and Z would be missing out not to go to LA. Sure I had a crap experience with flying over an ocean for Andy's wedding, but I guess in the end Im a hopeful optimist or a sucker for punishment. Maybe a little of both.

 

Uncle David's



Great Grandma Bernice, Chino Hills



 The flight was from Kaohsiung to Tokyo and then on to LAX. This was right after the devastating earthquake and radioactivity scare/meltdown so my flight to Narita was empty. My row and the rows in front and behind were empty. Japan Airline was by far the cleanest plane Ive ever been on and the food was the absolute best. The miso soup alone was worth the trip, the tea was top. The wine was free. I wish I could of stayed with them to LAX. We had 3 hours to kill in Narita and spent most of the time in the kid playroom. The CNN footage of people standing in Depression Era lines trying to get out of Tokyo was not in my terminal. We took American Air to LAX, the plane was full. The crew was old, 40s + and not looking too great, but I had to hand it to them for not laying off female staff who looked like drag queens or should be pouring coffee in a diner in the middle of North Dakota. Finally, real people for once, I would not be the most haggard looking person on the plane.

Z was a nightmare. She could not get comfortable enough sleep so there was no way in hell she would let me sleep. She verbally abused me the whole time, “youre driving me crazy!” Where did you learn that I asked her later? I asked the stewardess for a small bottle of Merlot and whipped out a 10$ bill. She said, “oh we take credit card.” My shocked face immediately made her react and she said, “here its on me.” “Bless you!” I said in relief and just about drank from the bottle. I was her biggest fan the rest of the flight. Obviously she belonged to the sisterhood of mothers who understand.

Outside San Diego

Dad and Ed picked us up at the airport and we waited for some time for a shuttle bus to their hotel, then drove to Aunt Stella, which felt like my home in LA.  I have so many warm memories from that house. Whenever we made road trips to LA to see family, we always stayed there. The upstairs, the house in the back yard (use to be a play house now converted to an extra bedroom) has this nostalgic musty smell that I always associated with a kind of comfort, so nice to go back to that.

The missing element was Uncle Bob who lost his battle to cancer. When I left 3 years ago he was starting to waste away. I endured the gut wrenching video Stella made of his memorial and in the end he was an emaciated, skeleton version of his former self. Stella's story is hard to listen to. The hours of sleepless nights nursing him, all the natural cures that they had tried, she hoped until the end of his miraculous recovery. She is very matter of fact about some of the more unpleasant details. Now she in her self sacrificial fashion is taking care of a friend who is suffering from breast cancer. I was sleeping in the bed Uncle Bob died in, which didnt creep me out at all. In fact I was wearing his jeans the first 3 days I was in LA. My co-worker told me the weather was warm, so I brought all my best spring/summer clothes and it was flipping cold. I was stuck in Uncle Bob's favorite jeans until my Aunt Terry blessed me with a bag of assorted quality hand me downs (and a new purse).


 The first week was all spending time with my niece and extended relatives. I didnt get to see my other brothers until the last weekend, the weekend of the wedding. David and Terry was seriously cool and drove down to see us a few times that week. We had brunch at a fish and chips place with freshly caught fish in Little Tokyo. I bought my dress for the wedding at the Garment District for 10 bucks. It was a size or 2 too big, but I wasnt complaining. The weather really made it difficult to actually do alot of the things we wanted, rainy, cold, misterable grey skies, so un-sunny southern Cali. One of my personal highlights was hangin with my dear cousin Jonathan who was more like a brother. He was kickin it in the other house (what can I call it?) in Stella's backyard. Another dude had died there from cancer. Jonathan is a total rastafarian, kindred spirit, who is helpful and full of interesting stories. He was a paremedic who worked Hollywood parties, like Oscar and Emmy after parties and he has been in jail for 6 months and the things he saw and learned were intense and educational. "In jail everyone is so cool." He should write it all down. I enjoyed just soaking it all in. Aunt  Stella, along with her lush homemade cooking and huge servings, kept the wine supply ever flowing, so for those 2 weeks, I ate and drank like a queen. It was great to have folks watch Z and Emma while I could have adult conversations with wine, etc with Jonathan. I also got to hang with cousin Stephanie and her kids, she took us on a sunset walk, I needed the exercsie after her mom's wonderful cooking.

As for the wedding...Matt’s wedding was beautiful. His bride Carmel (who I adored from the first—unlike Cristi) was stunning. She has asked me to be a bridesmaid, but the dresses were 200US+ and Im just too “old” to be a bridesmaid. Im more of a woman than maiden. Z and Emma were little flower girls and in their element.

For  my LA photo album click here.

View from aunt Stella's house, East LA



To go to Matt's Wedding or Not to Go

I wavered back and forth deciding if I should make the journey to LA for my youngest bro Matt’s wedding. I had a valid case not to go. The expense of 2 tickets (62,000NT as compared to last years 42,000 NT to Denver during Chinese NY—I waited til the last moment to buy). Taking time off work and the small paycheck, plus if I exceeded 5 days which I did I lost my bonus (not as big as Kid Castle, but the light at the end of the tunnel).


The biggest reason not to go was Id been down this road before. When I was in grad school in England, my bro Andy got married. I was just starting my dissertation, I used my student loan money (which I am still paying off) to fly from York to London and a direct flight from Heathrow to DIA. Then the next day w/my family and then betrothed on a flight to Vegas.

It just felt wrong. A Vegas wedding. Who goes to Vegas on purpose to get married? Andy. And of course at the over the top Bellagio, (think Oceans 11 to the power of 4 sequels). The Bellagio was gorgeous , my dress was gorgeous. My then betrothed and I argued most of the time. Andy the groom dissed his wife and guests by watching the NBA playoffs in some private room. His then wife was intoxicated before the ceremony began. I still cried when they exchanged vows, perhaps it was the only semblance of a meaningful moment in the whole experience, that or the jet lag. It was a fast, plastic ceremony. In and out, next couple, conveyer belt, lunch box feeling. The DJ thought we were Italians and kept making jokes about it, the food was bland and the beer and champagne were not free.

I vowed never again to fly over an ocean for a bro’s wedding (I have 4 brothers). Andy and Cristi divorced 2 years later due to Cristi’s alcoholism and Andy’s control issues (which were tied to keeping her drunk driving under control). The subsequent divorce was horrendous.

The karmic bonus for going home to Andy’s April wedding was I got pregnant. My then on and off betrothed of ten years and I took a familiar hike and found a nice place on the side of a foothill and thought we’re getting married anyways lets just stop using protection and see what happens. I didn’t expect it all to work that fast, I guess neither did he. After the deed was done, when we drove back down the mountain we both were quite sure about the enormity of what happened-- how special that we were aware of it. That we both just knew. The relationship pretty much fell apart from then on, but that’s another story.

Funky Town

Its been ages since Ive blogged or written anything. Went to LA and back, than a weekend in Taipei. With work and Z, just so strapped for time like everyone, Im brain dead by the end of the day. I feel like Ive been in a creative funk, lost my passion or something of my self expression which worms its way out in sometimes not so fun ways (throat issues) and sometimes productive (boring) ways, school worksheets or posters. Having said that I did start some paintings Ive been meaning to paint for some time. I started writing about my Borneo and Cali trips and havent finished them. I will , I will!

I  was getting bored of myself and my hair was getting on my nerves so I had it all cut off, chin length and it feels great. It feels more like me, easy breezy, no maintenance. Blessings to all the people who immediately said " I love it!" and to all of you who just stared and didnt say anything or hesitated and didnt compliment me at all (" you cut your hair"), you all suck! My daughter came with me to the hair salon and being the honest type yelled, "Its so ugly, you look like a boy! Mom-boy! Mom-boy!" Is this what living in Taiwan does to girls? Gender rules are so clearly and sharply defined--all girls have long hair and like pink. Thats pretty much how Toys R Us looks like.

Im happy I can make time to go to the gym which is not very expressive. On Wednesday night I went to my Latin dance class, having looked forward to it all week. The teacher is an aborignal, and  a real dancer, not like these aerobics instructors. She throws alot of choreography at us and its good brain work as much as a sweaty and sexy workout. Im dripping in her class.She is very sultry, comfortable in her body and its  a joy to play to music that way, sometimes she ends the second half of the class in a sexy strip tease class which is awsome. She makes fun of us the whole time and Im laughing in her mimicing us. For the most part the Taiwanese women are pretty tight in their hips, no real grinding, but they are graceful. Jenny our instrucor gets down and dirty and I love it. Its the most action I get all week.

Anyway, last Wed night we had a sub and she was one of  these jazzersize instructors, and I knew I would get no real workout and just get frustrated at her boringness so I left after 5 minutes to the spin class. The spin class had me dripping sweat in no time, but it was so soulless, non expressive, the instuctor  was shouting at us and the seat was killing me. I think a workout should be personal, expressive, creative, mental (as in using my brain, and well maybe  a little crazy too.)

Today I went to the Dr for a sore throat cough, plus electroshock therapy on my shoulders. Seeing the Dr,plus meds, plus heating pad on my shoulder followed by electroshocking them for 20 minutes and massage cost me 150NT and the next time I go for my shoulders and neck will be 50NT. Z will start Karate on Thurs and I know where I will be, getting shocked. Im gonna ask them if they can place those circular pads on other places of my body (I have my reasons), just to see what happens.

When I wakeup, my shoulders and neck are so stiff. It has forced me to do yoga in the morning which is a good thing and of course I feel like a million bucks afterwards, but if I can save a little cash on trips to the masseuse by electro shocking my muscle memory back into place, I'll do it.

Z is in the garden with her Chinese grandpa and Id better go get her its getting dark.