Love story, part infinity

Greg Taylor (1975-2015)

My beloved husband, Greg Taylor, passed away on December 25, 2015, Christmas afternoon, around 2:30 pm.

I would like to share our love story.

We met on Craigslist (yes, Craigslist--they have a dating site). On a Sunday afternoon, September 23, 2007, I answered his personal ad and we exchanged our first emails. His personals posting had the heading as simply "hi" and the post was a list of funny and random things about him, including "I'm taller than you, even if you're tall."

I responded with "hi back" and a corresponding list, including "I'm shorter than you, even if you're short. But most people say I don't 'look' short."

We met for the first time on a Friday night, September 28, after work in front of the (now gone) Virgin Megastore in Union Square. I arrived first, and was listening to my iPod. As he approached, I removed my headphones, got flustered because he was so handsome, and my earbuds got tangled. I handed them to him to hold for a second, a gesture he for some reason found endearing and would mention for years later. We decided to walk and find a place to eat, and ended up at Yaffa Cafe on St. Mark's Street (also now gone). For many years later, on September 28 we would go back and meet in front of the Virgin Megastore, which eventually was turned into a Duane Reade drugstore (of course).

We sat in the back courtyard and talked and talked and talked. He was a fifth-grade teacher, I was a children's book editor, he was studying history in grad school, I was always thirsty to learn more about everything. I liked sushi, he didn't eat raw meat. I had gone skydiving, he preferred his feet on the ground. But we couldn't stop looking into each other's eyes. His eyes were the most beautiful blue-gray. He told me they changed colors in the light, and I later discovered that they were sometimes flecked with green.

I had a birthday party to attend later that night in the Williamsburg area of Brooklyn, and asked him if he wanted to come with me. When he agreed, I knew he liked me. (He had told me earlier that he hated Williamsburg.) He told me later that when I asked him to come with me, he knew I liked him, too.

Now here's the "falling in love" montage. Kissing like there was no tomorrow. Going for walks--he showed me his neighborhood in Brooklyn and we walked to the Brooklyn museum and watched a dog frolic in the jumping fountain. It was there that we took our first picture together:

This is also the hat he wore when we first met.

Meeting each other's friends. House and dog sitting out in New Jersey (he LOVED dogs). Teaching me to play golf (he LOVED golf). Drinking a lot of wine (he LOVED wine). Introducing me to opera. Going to parties and weddings together, going to lots and lots of diners. (Later, when we briefly were looking to buy an apartment, it was important to us that the neighborhood have a diner.) Emails, texts, phone calls. Making each other laugh. Holidays. Supporting each other's careers.

Dog sitting Maggie, Roxie, and Caesar

He would share the books I edited with his students, especially Grace Lin's Year of the Dog, and he would proudly tell his students that he was friends with the real-life Melody who was a character in the book. When I attended his school's holiday concert, he introduced me as Melody and I was a celebrity. I later spoke to his school about being a children's book editor.

We took a trip out to Iowa together, where he spent his summers as a kid. Showing off, he took us down a backroad where we promptly got stuck in the mud and he had to call his uncle for help--they laughed and said he was a city boy now. 

Not a smart thing to do in a rental PT Cruiser

He started flying out to my parents' home in Southern California with me and ended up falling in love with California, and especially my parents' backyard. (He wanted to live there. In my parents' basement.) We played a lot of tennis and golf.

His mother was diagnosed with cancer, and he flew out to stay with her for six weeks to care for her. I went to visit him while he was there and spent Thanksgiving with his family and stayed in his childhood home.

We moved in together into his tiny 5th-floor walk-up apartment in Park Slope. The two of us and his two cats, Venus and Serena, made a nice family. And then in October 2011 he proposed, on the same rock in Central Park where my parents got engaged.

We were married less than a year later on July 21, 2012, in my parents backyard.

It was a glorious day, and we were excited to start a life together as husband and wife. 

And then he was diagnosed with cancer, synovial sarcoma, about six months after our wedding. You can read about that initial journey here. Major surgery, long recovery, chemo, and then another long recovery.

Just as Greg was starting to regain his strength, we found out that his cancer had recurred in January 2014. We knew that with Greg's type of cancer, once it came back, there was no cure. At first, Greg didn't want any treatment--he didn't want to go through chemo again. We decided to travel--to Rome, and then Paris. Greg left the US for the first time (aside from Mexico) in February 2014 and we went to Rome and had a glorious week. Before he died, Greg wanted to walk where Augustus walked.

On the night before we were to leave for Paris, he was struck by excruciating tumor pain. We stayed in Rome for another week while we stabilized the pain, and then flew back to NY where he agreed to try a pill form of chemo. We were told that if the chemo worked, it would probably only work for 3-4 months. That pill ended up working for 18 months, and although he wasn't feeling great all the time, we were able to still have a relatively stable life. The chemo turned his facial pigmentation and hair snow white. He hated how his face looked and so he covered it with facial hair. Kids especially would stare at him--either thinking he was a pirate, or Santa, or, as we joked, a pirate Santa. Twice, once in our apartment lobby, and once at the Brooklyn Museum, he had a kid point to him and say, "Look! It's a pirate!"

Right before pirate Santa decided to shave his beard off.

We went to the US Open, a few hockey games and baseball games, and took a trip down to Atlantic City to see Bob Dylan perform.

Through it all, Greg handled his illness with courage and grace. It wasn't easy by any means, but I was eternally grateful to him for how he accepted and dealt with his situation. He knew this cancer would probably kill him, and although he was terrified of dying, his goal was to get as many good days out of life as possible. He had always been loving and attentive and romantic, but these past three years, he became even more so. 

For my 40th birthday last year, because he knew he didn't have the energy to take me out or throw me a party, he threw me a cyber party instead. He got over 100 T-shirts made in our wedding colors (fuchsia and purple) with the Chinese character for "love" on the back, and my last name in Chinese "Ling" on the front, to match the tattoo on my shoulder. He sent them to friends and families all around the US, and asked them to take pictures of themselves in the shirts and email, Tweet, and Facebook the pictures to me on my birthday. Here are just a few:

He told me he needed to make sure to tell me how much he loved me as much as he could in the time he had left. He told me that I should feel comforted in knowing how much I made his life better. He told me how in awe he was that he had met me, that I had responded to that one Craigslist ad so many years ago. He left me love notes around the apartment, on my computer, in my wallet. We had so many silly inside jokes, and I'm mourning the passing of what was known only between us. And of the children we never had (he was SO GREAT with kids, and would have made an amazing father), of our future that has been cut short.

But, I'm also so so so grateful for the time we had together. I loved him unconditionally. I loved his all-enveloping hugs, his sweet kisses in the middle of the night. I think we probably laughed even more together in these past three years--it became almost a competition to make the other laugh. We made up funny dances and funny voices. He got more and more into music, especially Bob Dylan, the Beatles, and John Lennon (he admired the great love between John and Yoko), and also discovered a love for Elvis Presley, Kris Kristofferson, Motown. But, Bob Dylan above all.  

Gradually, the chemo stopped working, and Greg started having more and more pain. We tried one last chemo, which worked for two months, and we knew that we were running out of options. A few months ago, we found out that Greg had a spot in an immunotherapy trial at Sloan Kettering, and we jumped at the chance. It was a Phase 1 trial, never tested on humans, but we knew if there was someday going to be a cure, it was probably going to be through immunotherapy. But on the day he was due to start, they discovered that his liver levels were high, which disqualified him from the trial, and the doctor sent him over to the hospital to see if they could solve the problem so that he could start the trial.

He had a procedure done to help drain the bile from the liver (which they thought was causing the high levels). Unfortunately, his liver levels didn't improve, and other liver levels were starting to get high as well. We knew that he had at least one tumor in the liver, and that once the liver starts to go, it can end quickly.

Every night after I left the hospital to go home, he sent me a text. "I love you sweetheart. More than anything. You are such a superhero." His last text to me was, "You are the best thing to ever happen to me." He was the best thing to ever happen to me, too. 

Eventually, they started Greg on chemo while in the hospital, and he was released on December 23rd--we were thrilled to have him home for the holidays! This is the last picture we took together, in his hospital room while waiting for our ride home:

As my mother told Greg the last time she saw him, "You're still very handsome!"

After one night at home (Venus was ecstatic to have us both home again!), we ended up calling 911 and going to the ER in an ambulance on Christmas Eve. Greg had been struggling with nausea and ended up vomiting blood and fainting a few times. He was admitted into the ICU for observation, as they suspected internal bleeding. But, he appeared stable after getting fluids, with no symptoms aside from some weakness and dizziness.

But on Friday morning he suddenly started having seizures, and then started bleeding profusely internally. The doctors were able to stabilize him with a breathing tube and blood transfusions, but we knew there wasn't hope for a full recovery, and I knew Greg didn't want any drastic measures taken just to keep him alive. They removed the breathing tube and Greg rested peacefully for a few hours before passing on while I held his hand.

Over the two-week hospital stay, we knew that the end was coming--Greg said he didn't know if he had days, or weeks, or months, so he was going to focus on enjoying each minute with me. I'm going to focus on each minute at a time. And breathing. This last year especially, Greg was struggling, and his bad days were outnumbering his good days. Recently, he said that the pain and complications he was having were making it easier to let go. I know he is at peace now.

Greg did not want to have a funeral, but he will be buried in Iowa where he spent his summers. He wanted his body to rest under open skies.

If you want to offer some support, please donate money towards sarcoma research--if I may suggest, the Sarcoma Foundation of America: http://www.curesarcoma.org
or Mt. Sinai for Sarcoma research: https://philanthropy.mountsinai.org/waystogive. 

Greg started his care at Mt. Sinai with Dr. Robert Maki and Nurse Practitioner Linda Ahn (who is now at Sloan Kettering). They made the whole process more comforting for both of us, and even though I wish we had never had to meet them, I'm thankful they were in our lives. 

I'm grateful to his many doctors and nurses--at Mt. Sinai, at Memorial Sloan Kettering, and at New York Methodist. They have such a tough, important job, and see suffering and death every day.

I'm also so blessed to have such loving friends and family and colleagues, including the authors and illustrators I work with, who have supported us over the years and are mourning the loss of Greg, too. This isn't a unique journey that we traveled on--what's devastating is that so many people are touched by tragedy.

I know Greg didn't want a big deal made of his death. But, for my own healing, I wanted to acknowledge publicly what an extraordinary man he was. He was full of passions--whether it was golf, wine, watches, jewelry, opera, American history, Chinese history, Andy Kaufman, dogs, cats, lacrosse, soccer...or me!--when he loved something, he loved it with all of himself, and learned everything he could. He was supremely moral, had a kind heart, and was sometimes loyal to a fault. He was sardonic, sarcastic, self-deprecating, and silly. He could put kids at ease in seconds. He had a deep voice that got higher and lighter when he was in pain--I knew he was feeling strong when his voice was deep. He was ticklish, and especially hated when I touched his feet. He watched the same movies over and over again, memorized the best lines, and would constantly call me to watch funny scenes. He also loved pointing out continuity errors. When he was in pain, he told me it helped him when I held his hand. 

His favorite books were The Plague by Albert Camus, and Sophie's Choice by William Styron. His favorite song was "Love Minus Zero" by Bob Dylan. His favorite movie was "Deer Hunter." 

People loved to tease him--he had the kind of personality that made people feel like he could take it. But he was sometimes sensitive about it. Sometimes he just wanted people to be nice to him. He was ferocious (but nice!) when dealing with customer service, and usually got what he wanted. He hated being told what to do, but I knew he took everything in, even when he was arguing (and when he was arguing, he always sounded angrier than he really was), and was able to keep an open mind. He was always so proud of me and my career, and embarrassed me by boasting about me to everyone he knew. And he was an astonishingly good teacher--so many of his students stayed in touch with him, and I feel lucky to have met so many of them. He made a difference in their lives. He made a difference in the world. 

Although he was an introvert at heart, he was the mayor of his old block. He knew everyone and they knew him. He was buddies with all of the shop keepers--one of them helped him get up the stairs of his apartment when he came home after his surgery. They always asked me how he was doing after his surgery. He made Brooklyn into a small town. Although his time was cut short, he had a rich, fulfilling life, and so many people who loved him.

The day after his death, I remembered that he had wanted to make me a music mix before he died, and I was feeling bereft that he hadn't been able to do it. But I checked my computer just in case, and there it was, a playlist called "For Alvina" and it was like he was giving me a hug and a message from the great beyond. The last two songs on the mix are "Shelter from the Storm" and "Across the Universe."

For those of you who have read this far, thank you for bearing with me. My mother is with me now, and I've been surrounded by friends, both virtually and in person. Greg and my dear friends Donna and Daniel were with me at the hospital when he died, and took care of me that night and the next day.

And just to leave this on a note of levity, albeit one that I'm finding profound right now, this is a silly email Greg sent me while I was at work and then out to dinner about a month ago. Venus is our one remaining cat (Serena also passed away from cancer about a year ago). Warning, there is cursing ahead!:

I'm very lonely.  Venus is also lonely.  The two of us are acting like our worlds have been destroyed.  

While we cuddled - more like held on to one another as the universe battered us - she said, "Dad?"

I said, "What is it, sweetie?"

"I miss Alvina."

I said, "I do too, Venus.  I miss her too."

She asked, "Is it always going to be like this?  Is it always going to hurt this much?"

I explained to her that it will always hurt but that we will get better at dealing with it.  Eventually the wound will heal and a scar will grow in its place, making us stronger.

She said, "What?"

"Ugh," I said.  "Right now we hurt because the wound is so new.  As time passes the wound will close and a scar will form." 

She replied, "What are you talking about?  I don't have any open wounds.  I said I miss Alvina."

"It's a metaphor," I said.  "We are wounded EMOTIONALLY.  We will develop EMOTIONAL scars."

She said, "I have no idea what a metaphor is.  A metaphor?  What the fuck is a metaphor!  I'm a fucking cat.  Stop treating me like a human being, because I'm not a human being.  Also, STOP TOUCHING ME!"  

Then she swatted at me and jumped off the bed and ran into the other room.

Venus and I both miss Greg. I wait for the wound to close and the scars to form.

Love story, part 2

The rock. The day before.

A week ago, on a warm Sunday afternoon in October, Greg proposed to me on a rock in Central Park.

Now, some of you might remember this blog post from over five years ago. In it, I talked about how my parents met, and how they got engaged on a rock in Central Park. Well, Greg remembered that story well, and crafted a plan.

I was busy with work all weekend (I had three novels to edit), but Greg asked me to come out to a fundraiser with him on Sunday afternoon. He said it was for a charter school his friends Pat and Frank supported. I actually had a ton of work and was a bit distressed and said, "I really don't think I can go." He asked if I could go "for just a few hours"--he said I could meet them later if I didn't have time to go to the whole thing, so I agreed to do that. "But I reserve the right to leave early" I said. At around 1 pm, after dressing in a jacket and tie (he had me pick his tie after presenting me with a few options), Greg left the apartment, and I told him I'd meet him around 4:15. He told me to take the Q train to 57th and 7th, and then to call/text him to find out where they were, and if I couldn't reach him, to text Pat.

When I got there, I tried calling Greg but he didn't pick up, and then texted both him and Pat. Pat texted back right way, and it turned out that she and Frank were at the station to pick me up. She said Greg had gone ahead, and we would just walk about 10 minutes in the park to get there.

It was around then that I was suspecting something might be up, but didn't want to assume/hope too much.

Pat and I chatted on the way (she told me ALL about the fundraiser), and then a few minutes later Pat pulled me aside. She pulled a piece of paper out of her bag. "I'm supposed to give you this" she said. On the paper was the picture of my parents on the rock that I had posted in that blog post:

My parents, Fall 2006

Of course, then I was pretty sure I knew what was about to happen.

"And now I'm supposed to give you this," Pat said, and handed me a homemade card with photos of me on the front. Inside were song lyrics for this song (with a few of the details crossed out to match how we met-- "London New York," for example.):


And then Pat said, "Here, listen to this," handing me her iPod and headphones, playing the song for me to hear. 

"Now, follow me," and we kept walking.

Pat took this picture of me on the walk

I was listening to the song (which was quite beautiful and touching) while trying to remember where that rock was--I kept scanning the park (which was quite crowded due to the lovely weather) to see if I could find Greg. Finally, we turned a corner around the rink, and there he was, looking very dashing in the pink tie I had unwittingly selected for him, and I think I basically ran to him.

It's kind of a blur after that, but I recall Greg saying, "So, there's no fundraiser," and then he brought me over to sit on the rock (the same rock my parents were sitting on in the photo), and handed me a little box wrapped in a bow. As I was opening it, he asked me to marry him. "Of course I'll marry you," is what I think I said.

Opening the box with the ring

Pat and Frank were taking pictures the entire time, and Greg said there was quite a crowd of spectators around who applauded, although I didn't register any of that.* He said he had to keep asking people not to sit on that rock for an hour or so before I got there. He decided that pacing back and forth on it and looking possibly crazy was the best technique for keeping unsuspecting picnickers away.

Anyway, Greg told me later that he had read that blog post about my parents' proposal a while ago (he said he had pretty much decided that was what he was going to do when he first heard the story), and then wandered around Central Park with the photo of my parents on the rock, comparing background trees and branches and tiny rock features until he was certain he'd found the exact one.

Oh, it was a glorious day. And, as my father told me after hearing the story, "Now your marriage will be as solid as rock!"



*Apparently, there was a plane sky writing at the same time, and people had stopped to look up to see what was going on. Then, they looked down at us and saw what was going on, and applauded. We found out later that the writing spelled "Last Chance"--ha!

Felix and Adrian's wedding

Two weekends ago I flew up to New Hampshire for Felix (my older brother) and Adrian's wedding. It was a very intimate, casual, and beautiful ceremony and lunch (yummy, too!) in the small town of Sandwich, New Hampshire where Adrian grew up. There were about 15 friends and family in total in attendance. After a lovely exchanging of the vows in front of the fireplace, and a champagne toast, we sat down for lunch. With three tables, Felix and Adrian were able to rotate after each course.

Here's an animoto video of the day:



The bride and groom were practically beaming in happiness the whole time.

Best wishes for a wonderful life together, Felix and Adrian!

Dad ran a marathon!!!

Yesterday, in San Diego, CA, my 69-year-old father ran the Rock 'n' Roll marathon. He finished in a little over 6 hours. He was inspired by my roommate and me running last year, and I'm so proud of him. (And part of me is a bit relieved, too--I couldn't help but feel a little responsible for his decision to run, and my mother wouldn't have been very happy with me if he had hurt himself training.) We talked about running one together next year (My mom didn't seem too happy when I told her our plan). We'll see!

I'm sorry I couldn't be there with him, but I saw the pictures on my brother's flickr page. Here are a few:

at mile 10

mom and dad at the finish line

happy to be finished

Congratulations, Dad! You're incredible!!!!

Happy Holidays, one and all

As a Christmas present to himself (and the whole family, I guess), my father purchased a brand-new, state-of-the-art Karaoke machine. Now, we already had a Karaoke machine, but I guess it was time for an upgrade. (For those of you who wonder where I get my love of Karaoke and singing, it's in my genes!)

So two night ago, before waching a video, the family settled down to test out the new machine. As Ben sang U2's "With or Without You" my father looked and listened to the lyrics, shook his head sadly and said, "I can't live with or without you? Aw, that...that...sucks!"

So true.

It's been great being back. Despite a brief bout with what seemed to be a 24-hour bug which I'm blaming on exhaustion, things are looking up. Got a massage, facial, and haircut; went shopping; am eating lots of good food; watched movies (United 93 and Pursuit of Happyness); played games; picked fruit; read; good talks. Oh, and sleep. Lots of sleep.

Merry Christmas greetings from Southern California, where it's finally warm and sunny and Southern California-like. I wish everyone happiness, health, and peace.

She's ba-ack

Update 12/9: added pics

crying Amanda and Aunt Marjorie"2G"--the cousins

"1G"--the parents

our crazy tour bus: home for a week

the view from the top of Taipei 101

Cousin JoAnn, me, Ben, and cousin Rich

I'm back from Taiwan! I got back late Tuesday night, but managed to stay awake during the majority of my flight, so was able to fall asleep after I got home and slept soundly till 8 am. It was a good trip. Not great, but good. I'm not sure it was quite the vacation I needed at the time, because it was overscheduled and not very relaxing. But it was still fun.

I arrived in Taiwan on Sunday morning, met some of my relatives at the airport who also arrived that morning, then was off the the hotel where the rest of my relatives were staying, got on the tour bus, and was off. It seemed that every minute of the tour was scheduled. Wake up call at 7. Breakfast at 7:30. Load the bus at 8:30. We were at a different hotel every night, so each morning we had to pack up all of our luggage and go. But it was a good way to see the whole island, and bus time was time to catch up with relatives I hadn't seen in a while, nap, play cards (Taiwanese poker, hearts, gin), video games (Bust a Move!), eat snacks, watch movies--some good (Princess Bride! Snakes on a Plane!), some bad (Snakes on a Plane!), some pirated (Snakes on a Plane!). We made plenty of restroom stops at these tourist traps where the same assortment of snacks and knicknacks were on display, and the vendors called out to us as we walked by "Ni hao! Ni cong nali lai?" (Hello! Where are you from?) Most people guessed that I was from Singapore or Malaysia. It seemed that a few aunts bought some kind of snack at each stop, and once we got back on the bus, the bags of snacks would be passed around--always something different. Mochi, sesame candy, mooncakes, crackers, oranges, etc. My cousin Andrew bought a different milk tea or coffee project at every convenience store we passed. I got a papaya milk from 7-11 and BBQ ribs-flavored Ruffles. We saw a dam, waterfalls, a gorge, swam in hot springs, played ping pong, pool, video games, worked out, watched HBO in hotel rooms, went to night markets, shopped, went to museums, Tsunah, an Aborigine village, Taoyuan, Hualian, Kenting, Tainan, Taichung, Taipei. It was a packed trip, to be sure. The food was the best part. Breakfast buffets at the hotel every morning--congee every day! We didn't have a Thanksgiving dinner, but we did pig out at a fancy buffet dinner in Tainan.

Things I learned on this trip that I never knew before:

1) The crease I've always had on my arm, about an inch above my inner elbow, is apparently a sign of aborigine blood. My mother also has the mark, and said that when she was younger her classmates would tease her about it. It wasn't desirable to have aborigine blood. My father and younger brother do not have the mark. Not sure about my older brother. My mother said that my father's nose is a sign of Dutch blood.

2) When my mother told her mother that she was engaged, my grandmother was worried, because she had not yet met my father (since they had gotten engaged so quickly). So she asked my mother where my father went to college, and then called some friends/professors she knew there to check up on him, see if he was a good guy, check his transcripts. Everything confirmed that he was not bad, so she approved of the match.

3) I remember both more and less Chinese than I thought.

4) Ben can read on buses and cars--I had thought that he got carsick like me.

5) There is a Thai instrument that was made from human femur bones, traditionally made from people who have died violent deaths.

6) The Taiwanese Atayal aborigine people used to have a tradition of head hunting and tattooing.

7) I like smelly tofu.

8) I can't eat enough wax apples and kong xin cai (water spinach).

wax apples

9) It seems that Taiwanese Americans look younger than the Taiwanese who grew up in Taiwan, at least in my family.

10) Distant cousins who live in Taiwan have read my blog, particularly my Love Story post and Marathon post.

11) One (or more) of my aunts is obsessed with marriage, and doesn't think women can be happy if they don't get married. She also thinks that whiter skin is prettier than dark skin, and thinks I'm lighter now than I was nine years ago when I lived in Taiwan. She can't understand why I'm not married.

12) Taipei has a great subway system now.

Added on 12/7:
13) KFC has the best egg custard

banana egg custard from KFC

14) My family has a temple that honors our ancestors called the Hwang family temple, and my mother's relatives who maintain it own a golf ball company

Hwang family temple

golf balls

That's all I have for now. At any rate, it's good to be back. I always love coming back to New York after vacation--a sure sign to me that I consider New York to be home.

I haven't really been jetlagged much--I've been getting a bit tired in the afternoon, but not horribly so. I hope I can fend it off. I'll try to post some pictures tomorrow--I took over 400 of them. Now it's time for bed!

I'm leaving on a jet plane...

In a little over an hour, I'll be leaving for the airport on my way to Taipei, Taiwan for a family reunion. My mother's side of the family, who all live in the U.S., try to get together at least once a year. Last year we took a tour of the Canadian Rocky Mountains, and this year we're off to Taiwan and taking a tour around the island. I haven't been since I lived there for about a year and a half after college--about nine years ago. No doubt it's changed a lot. I'm looking forward to reconnecting with cousins I haven't seen in a while, to eating delicious food (although I'll miss my Thanksgiving stuffing and mashed potatoes and cranberry sauce), and I'm even looking forward to the long plane ride so that I can sleep and read--although not simultaneously.

I'm not sure what my internet access will be like during the tour, so you may not hear from me for a few weeks (I'm back to NY on the evening of the 28th). But if I can, I'll post.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

Love Story

I knew they had met in NYC at a Taiwanese singles Christmas party.

My father was looking for a wife. He knew he wanted to marry a fellow Taiwanese, and he wanted her to be strong, independent, and smart. And she had to believe in Taiwan independence, too. He was living in Atlanta, Georgia at the time, but friends recommended that he go to NYC to look, so he did. His plan at this Christmas party was to dance with every woman there, rank them in order of preference, and then starting from his top choice, work down the list and ask each woman out until one of them said yes.

"What number was mom ranked?" we asked him when we were kids.

"Number one, of course!" he said.

As a child, I had always pictured a Jane Austen-esque party of hundreds of people, fancy gowns, and formal ballroom dancing, and wondered how my father managed to dance with every woman there. But of course in reality it was a smallish party, with 10-12 women.

What I knew: they met, three months later got engaged, three months after that they were married. And they're still married today, over 36 years later.

What I didn't know until their visit this past week: they got engaged on a rock in Central Park.

On Labor Day Monday, my parents and I walked from my apartment to Central Park on a beautiful, mild summer day. Our destination was my office, and then lunch, then the MoMA. My mother told me to take my usual route, but we took a few detours, checking out the remote-control sailboats, the Alice in Wonderland Statue, Bethesda fountain. Then we walked through the Mall, and tried to find the rock that my father had proposed on so many years ago. They didn't know exactly where the rock was, but they knew that it was near the street, because they had gone to the Park after a dentist appointment that my mother had. Of course, she didn't remember where her dentist's office was, but I guessed it was South of the park. My father went to a cluster of big rocks off the Mall, but my mother didn't think that was right. Then I took them to the rocks above the Trump ice-skating rink, and my father said it seemed right. My mother wasn't convinced, but they sat down on the rock next to each other, and she seemed content to believe.

The curiosities of health

I'm taking a break from working at home, editing a manuscript on my kitchen table. I love these work-at-home days, one of the perks of being an editor. Of course, it's just as well because...

This morning I went to the doctor and apparently I have a slight case of bronchitis, and inflamation of the lymph nodes and other nodes, etc. It's kinda surprising, because all things considered, I don't feel that sick. And, in fact, I ran 10 miles on Sunday and 3.5 miles last night. I did feel like I was coming down with something at the end of last week, but I guess I convinced myself that it was allergies. I am a strong believer in the power of your mind to heal your body. I tend to ignore sicknesses or "fend them off" (I heart Airborne!) and in general I don't get sick very often. And when I do, I try to power through it and try not to complain about it. I used to scoff at my whiney friends who would wallow in their sicknesses.

I also don't usually go to the doctor when I'm sick, but last night I discovered a lump on my neck that was weird (like little marbles under my skin), and Sachin said over and over, Go to the doctor. Go to the doctor. Get it checked out. Go to the doctor. I guess that's one thing good (one of many!) about significant others: they make you do things you should do that you don't really want to do. I've had this kind of thing before, although usually on my throat, not the side of my neck, so although I wasn't too worried, I also knew it was probably the type of thing that would require antibiotics, and I was right.

This made me think back to my CA trip. My mother, as usual, brought me to see a Taiwanese doctor who tested my energy levels and took a blood sample and looked at it under a microscope. Apparently, my health had deteriorated since my last visit, and my blood was unhealthy--all clumped together with microscopic bugs in it. He said my immune system was down and that even though I felt healthy, that he tends to see health issues before they manifest themselves as symptoms. He prescribed some herbal medicine for me, which I have reluctantly been taking. I couldn't help but wonder if he had predicted this sickness, or if the mere suggestion that I wasn't healthy was enough for my brain to allow myself to get sick. And I wondered if stretching myself by running was what aggravated the sickness. And I wondered if the flooding on Thursday night was what caused it--if the water had jarred loose mold and dust from the building that caused my symptoms, first allergies, then cold, then bronchitis. And I wondered if living in the city, in general, was taking a toll on my health.

Who knows. At any rate, I'm supposed to take it easy (lucky for me to have already scheduled a work-at-home day today so I don't really have to leave my apartment), and no running for 5 days or so, which is okay since I should be fine in time for the half marathon on the 27th. She prescribed me an inhaler for when I do run again--cool! I've never used one of those before. I wonder if they're illegal to use for the marathon.

And now back to work again...although I may need to squeeze a nap into my day, too. I haven't slept well, and last night I was so congested that I would let out little moans involuntarily that would wake me up. Weird. My doctor suggested taking Claritin before bed to help me sleep. I'll see how tonight goes.

Stay healthy, people!

No Candy and Me

It's been a week and a half since my birthday, but I wanted to say thanks to everyone who made it a great birthday weekend, even birthday week. I don't actually care too much about my birthday, but then again, it's nice to throw a party, and it's nice to see and hear from family and friends. I used my 2nd annual rooftop birthday party this year to also start raising money for Fred's Team. As I've mentioned, I'm running the NYC marathon this November and am raising money for pediatric cancer research. I'll be starting my big fundraising push after I run the half marathon in NY at the end of August, but in the meantime if you want to help me out by donating, you can do so here. I'm running in honor of Grace Lin's husband Robert, who was also the inspiration for the Robert's Snow fundraiser that raised over $100,000 for the past two years. We're not having that fundraiser this year, so if you want to contribute, please donate for me running over 26 miles!

I raised $431 dollars from having a raffle at my party (thank you to everyone who contributed), and when added to the internet donations, over $600 (raffle money isn't yet online) so far. So I'm closer to my $2500 goal. A great birthday present! And on my actual birthday, Sachin surprised me with tickets to see The Producers and took me to a wonderful dinner at Gramercy Tavern--the perfect cap to the perfect weekend, which started off with a cupcake surprise from Grace.

But all that wasn't what I was intending to post about...what I really wanted to post about is CANDY. Candy, candy, candy. For the past two years, I've eaten tons of candy at my birthday party. Most of my friends know why, but a few asked me, "What's up with all the candy?" Well, here's the story. About five years ago I went home for the Christmas holiday. Whenever I go home to Southern California, my mother inevitably takes me to a new doctor or two she's seeing. It may be reflexology, chiropracy, or accupuncture, etc. At any rate, this trip she took me to see two different doctors, and as they were pushing the pressure points on my feet and measuring my energy levels through my fingers, respectively, both doctors asked, "Do you eat a lot of candy?" "Uhhh, well, no, well, maybe, well..." Well, yes, actually, I do. At that time, up until recently I had been roommates with Grace and Jon, and we all loved candy and sweets. There would be pound bags of Smarties everywhere, chocolate, sour candy, nerds, everything. I also had a candy drawer at work, and would eat candy throughout the day. I've always had a sweet tooth, partially spurred, I think, because my parents never had sweets in the house and forbade me from eating candy. So of course I ate it every chance I had.

Well, even though part of me suspected that my mother had tipped off both doctors, I realized that I really did eat too much candy, and it couldn't be good for me. So I decided to stop. Just like that, cold turkey, as one of my New Year's resolutions. I had guidelines, of course, and I didn't give up sweet things altogether, just candy. Candy was defined mostly by whether or not something was found in the candy section of the supermarket, and also by the intent. For example, mints were okay, because the intent was to freshen my breath. Also, if it was an ingredient in another type of food, it was okay. So, for example, I could eat chocolate chip cookies, or even cookies with M&Ms in them, or ice cream mixed with Butterfingers, because the candy in those examples was secondary to the main ingredient. So for one whole year, I didn't eat any candy. None. And to be honest, to my surprise it wasn't that hard. It was hardest when the candy was free (it's extremely hard for me to resist free food of any kind, even when I'm not hungry), such as in the many candy dishes people had at work. So anyway, because I did so well I decided to continue my resolution the following year, but as a reward (because a lifetime without candy seemed a dark life indeed) I decided I would eat candy one day a year, on my birthday. This proved successful, and for the last three years, for my last three birthdays, that is what I've done. (The picture above is from my birthday last year.) I start eating candy at midnight the night before my birthday, and continue until midnight the night of my birthday. And I enjoy every piece. This year, I started with Grape Heads that my friend Mat bought me (under my specific instructions--I had spied them in a convenient store on the corner of the where he was staying at the time). I also overdosed on Rainbow Nerds, chewy Spree, Bottle Caps, SweetTarts, M&Ms, this funny "make your own ice cream cone" candy (pictured here) that Saho brought me, and more. I think I'll continue this resolution for as a long as I can. I enjoy the candy more that way--I don't take it for granted (although I must say my teeth and sides of my mouth do take a beating). It has been tempting to watch my coworkers eat the candy in front of me (I've been bringing the leftover candy into work--and there's still more!). But I AM STRONG! I AM WOMAN! And I like to abide by the rules of my own making.

On a related note, CANDY AND ME is a book by Hilary Lifton that I read a few years ago. It's a "candy memoir" about her life and the role candy plays in it, and it's funny, poignant, fully enjoyable, and a book I totally related to. I liked it so much that I went to the Web site for it after finishing the book, and even posted a few of my own candy memories. Mine are about Alexander the Grape (now called Grape-Heads), and Sugar and Jello Mix. See them here. The author got my permission to print my Alexander the Grape candy memory in the paperback edition of her book, but I'm a little ashamed to say that I haven't actually bought/seen a copy to check to see if it's there. I will, though!

I'm going up to Boston this weekend to visit with Grace, Anna, Libby, Meghan, and Linda (I hope), and I'm going to overdose on something similar to Alexander the Grape--it's small and round and cute and delicious: blueberries! We're going blueberry picking. Perhaps my next post will be Blueberries for Al.

Vegas, baby, Vegas

I had used the title (Vegas, baby, Vegas) in the subject line in an email I sent Sachin when we were planning the trip, and weeks later he asked me if it was a line from a movie. Uhh, helloooo? Swingers! But he had never seen it, and thought it a weird coincidence that I used the same exact line as his friend who had sent out an email about his bachelor party a few months earlier. Anyway, Swingers was actually on tv while we were there, but we only caught the end of it. I love that movie.
Just wanted to share some pics from our Vegas trip for, as I mentioned earlier, my brother Felix and his wife Erika's renewal of their wedding vows. The ceremony was sweet and silly and appropriate, and we had a fun dinner afterwards at Quarks, the Star Trek-themed restaurant where we had a little too much to drink and got a bit nauseated afterwards on the ride.




Sachin and I hiked to In-n-Out on our first day there--had to do it (his first trip--to both Vegas and In-n-Out). I didn't think we could walk there, as I had always driven there before, and other people expressed doubt that we could walk there as well, but as we were carless, we took on the challenge. It's hard to walk in a non-pedestrian-designed city, and it proved to be an adventure, but we made it there and back (had to climb up the sides of a freeway overpast to do it), and it was worth it.

Also ventured out with my parents to Old Town/downtown Las Vegas, where I had never been. Pretty cool. Overall, I ate too much, drank too much, sat in the sun too much--in other words, the perfect vacation.

Now on to my birthday festivities!

Trudging on.

I did the full park loop the morning of the Fourth. I didn't wake up as early as I would have liked, because I had gone out on the lower east side to hang out on my friend's rooftop and drink beer. (Also saw Devil Wears Prada that night--liked it! It was exactly what I wanted/expected.)

I wasn't going to go out that night, because I knew I wanted to run in the morning, but I also don't want to start resenting my running. After talking to some people who have trained and run the marathon, some commented that they never want to run it again because it took over their lives. I don't want this to take over my life. I don't want to regret or resent entering. Then again, I also don't want to die when I actually run it. Everything is about balance.

I left my apartment around 9:30 am. It was 79 degrees out when I woke up half an hour earlier, and 81 degrees and rising when I left. But it didn't feel as hot as Saturday--it was overcast and pretty breezy. But I still felt like I was wading through water, sluggish, slow. But as I ran slowly around the Park, I realized that it's so much more rewarding if it's hard. That's obvious, I guess, but when I'm running after not enough sleep, 60% humidity, rising thermometer, I feel that I'm accomplishing something more. Like acquiring a book when the negotiations were a struggle, finding new love and hope after your heart was broken, writing that editorial letter when you didn't know where to start, having fun at a party you didn't want to go to, making it work in a brand-new city or brand-new job. One of the most beautiful moments of my life is getting on the ferry to Cosa Mui in Thailand about 9 years ago after a grueling 10-hour, crowded, uncomfortable bus ride from Bangkok. After waiting, exhausted, in the ferry station for about an hour, we finally got on the ferry to the island and suddenly everything was transformed. The water was impossibly blue, the sky equally so with perfect white fluffy clouds. We could see schools of glittering silver fish skim the surface of the water, and life was good.

My brother and his wife are celebrating their five-year anniversary this weekend in Las Vegas (101 degrees and counting!). They've had some challenging moments in their marriage, especially in this last year, but they've said that will make this celebration that much sweeter. I'm looking forward to being there to share it with them.