2011

So, the year is coming to an end, even though I feel that summer was just the other day. The last entry was a long time ago. IN A PINCH has grown into a big group of very nice neighbors sharing tips on how to get candle wax out of one's table cloths, and information on local concerts.

This year, I have reinvented myself as a CFO-for-rent, and have I have met quite a few interesting people. While it is hard to figure out people and businesses, I use my intuition to separate the gems from the pebbles. We'll see how well this scientific method works.

Switching topics, I have found that the word "massage" draws crowds. Thanks to the $25 one-hour massage in Palo Alto, I have seen so many friends this year. It is great to catch up with classmates from (almost) 20 years ago over massage and lunch. Time warps exist for sure, as it feels like "we haven't changed at all". Curiously, as I visit the campus, all the students look like my kids. I can only hope they don't see me and think that I look like their moms.

In a Pinch

My last blog entry was about neighbors connecting. Since then, we have created a social community through the use of a group email called IN A PINCH. Neighbors have looked for doll house materials, bridge partners, where to source shoe boxes, goat-sitters, sewing machines...you name it. It's interesting to see how much knowledge is stored in people's brains that can be shared effortlessly with the right medium.

Why I am up at 2:30 am is another story. Remember how this blog started? I had a dream about 5 years ago: the "dream me" was having so much fun working on things she liked, that she couldn't wait to jump out of bed to start her day. Well, the real me kind of caught up, and I find myself juggling a dozen business ideas. Now, if only the "raking in so much money" part would hurry up and catch on...

Don't worry...I haven't been up all night. Starting last morning with my son rushing out the door to school commenting that someone had left their lunch on the entrance table (turns out it was him), the day was a wrrrrr... Coffee in the neighboring village, pulling up for lunch at the WRONG museum and dashing to the right museum, catching up with friends with 14-months-old twins (cute!!! but boy am I glad that my kids are older..so much work), tea with another friend, conference calls, cooking dinner, talking to the dentist about my youngest's "fuzzy" unbrushed teeth, and on and on it goes. At 7:30, there I was, a rag doll with no steam. So, I dragged myself off to bed, and find myself awake in the middle of the night. Charlie is looking slightly annoyed that someone is keeping him from his beauty sleep, but I think he will survive. I wonder is all dogs sleep 20 hours a day.

Villagers

Today is Martin Luther King Jr.'s day. He had a dream, and so do I. My dream is to have a kind village where ever you are. This morning, I hop into my batmobile for a quick swim at the pool, before dashing over to discuss a concept with fellow villagers. The concept is simple. Help fellow villagers when you can how you can.

Having lived in a country for a couple of decades, where most 15-year-olds are taller than I am, in affluent neighborhoods where some people assume I am the nanny (and what's wrong with nannies? My kids wouldn't be who they are without the help of wonderful nannies), I am surprised at the prejudices and presumptions that trap people into isolation.

This morning, I chatted with a friend who tells me she stopped going to the local park with her grandchildren, because the younger moms (who all look like Barbie) turned their backs to her when she was chatting with them. She felt rejected because she was too old. Just because you don't wear a blonde pony tail and wear size 2 designer jeans, doesn't mean you're worthless for goodness' sake!

Beating the odds

My husband has a strange race going with time, especially when it comes to catching a plane. I arrive at the airport 2 and a half hours before a flight, and relax with a book in hand, basking in the satisfying reassurance of having a seat number attached to my ticket. My husband, thrives on the adrenalin rush that accompanies not knowing whether he'll miss his flight or not. When we travel together, he matches my style, as there is much to pay for if he doesn't. Tonight he is on his own. I offer to deposit him at the airport. He has ambitious plans of swimming some laps, going to his office, and visiting a neighbor who has just had hip surgery before hopping on the plane - all within 2 hours before schedule take off. The drive down to SFO is a nail-biting, lip-biting trip. "You are going to miss the flight", I almost say. But, experience has made him good at this race. He beats his record sprint to the check-in counter, while I wait at the curb in case he fails. As a police car aims a light beam at me to move on, my phone rings. "I'm on! See you soon."

I wave to the police officer and head home, stopping by to pick up milk, eggs, and jam on the way. My remote oven, aka daughter, has the chicken roasting with mushrooms and carrots. We sit down for dinner, my daughter in her father's seat, imitating his love/hate relationship with cheese. Something tells me her father's hope of losing weight on this trip will not be answered. Switzerland and France are not exactly cheese-free, after all.

Happy New Year!

It's a new year and a new decade, a new start with lots of "1"s in front. Despite the drizzle this morning of 1/1/11, I take a plunge in the pool for my first few laps of the year, and feel mighty proud. As I see the raindrops hit the surface from below, there is a sense of calm that surrounds me. This year is going to be a good one. I know this because everyone I meet says so. Attitude is everything. When everyone says it's going to be good, well... it's going to be good.

As we visit friends and neighbors this evening, I hear the best line of the year. I don't know if you know, but I live in Marin County which is rumored to be the richest county in America on a per capita basis. Tonight I learn that it has the highest APA in the country as well. I think hard, but cannot figure it out. So, I have to ask what an APA is. I should have known. APA = asshole per acre. Happy New Year everyone!

December

December is a tough month for many. Closing that last deal, taking finals, trips here and there, buying gifts, etc. etc. Take a moment to relax and inhale...better yet, get a wuppa and take it to bed. www.mywuppa.com

You have to love technology. The website was put together by my co-founder and chief marketing officer/chief technology officer aka my son, who is 11-years-old and the future! No wonder we stagnate.

December is the month for parties - one of which I had on my calendar for tonight, but wasn't... My poor neighbor that I had promised to pick up -- harassed by phone calls and then a persistent ringing of doorbells, who kindly informs me the event is Sunday not tonight. Aghhhh!!!

So, I drive home and pop a wuppa into the microwave, and voila!! Wuppa life!

Patience

Sometimes I feel that Patience is my middle name. Especially tonight... After a couple of decades of being a mother and a wife, this past year is practically the first where I have not been a working mom. Let me rephrase that. It's the first year that I have worked this hard, and not been paid anything meaningful for the work.

Much as I love my new lifestyle and the brain training that accompanies the process of building something new that is meaningful to me and (dare I say?) the world, it puts me face-to-face with the mundane. In between the cleaning, laundry, cooking, taking care of the kids, and generally attempting to keep my family happy and at peace, I am also an entrepreneur in the making. Just because I have eight arms and a dozen eyes, and bottomless compassion for mankind and the universe, doesn't mean there is no limit to patience. My cooking may not look great tonight, but it actually tastes exponentially better than anything I have seen my better half cook in a long, long time. But a meaningful shrug of the Gallic shoulders and an expressive lift of the eyebrows have set me off. In addition, my rebellion-hormone-filled daughters and their remarks tops it.

So, here I am sitting in front of my PC with my headsets on - signalling to the world that I WANT TO BE LEFT ALONE - listening to music that soothes the soul.
My sister would be proud to learn that I am listening to her favorite band.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6OPf_cs1JYk&feature=related

Patience to the world. Amen.

11 lbs

Happy Thanksgiving to all of you!
My 11 lbs turkey was a big success, thanks to a decade of training. The organic turkey was brined in garlic, onion and salt water overnight, then patted dry, stuffed with apples and potatoes and 4 hours later....voila!

(must insert photo here)

The turkey is now gone - nobody had time to complain about leftovers. Despite the fact that my friend, who was born weighing in as much as our turkey (kudos to her mom!), did not participate in eating the bird (early childhood trauma of pet chicken appearing on dinner table), we managed to clean it all out in two meals. One thing for sure - turkey makes you sleepy. I have slept like a baby this long weekend.

Thanks to Lynn who told me about a book called The Secret Life of the Grown-up Brain, I now know that my brain is doing exactly what it should be doing at its stage in life. Our brains may not be as quick as younger brains, but they are wiser (unless you cannot outgrow your self-centered self, in which case, you simply turn into an old fool). I take comfort in this knowledge, and vow to be more empathetic to others.

So, this morning, I drive my son to the SF Music Conservatory, and wait in the van for an hour reading up on the Male Brain, which explains a lot of stuff, that I already knew (except I now know they can't help it).

The Economy is Recovering

Today, my gut instinct tells me that we are in recovery mode. This morning, we ran out of milk, and so I decide it's time to go to Costco. After working on a presentation, I take a 30-minute plunge in the local pool, and then drive north. Costco is packed as I have never seen before. I sense that everyone is tired of being penny pinching. They are carefully splurging, which is very different from simply splurging. Even I opt for an organic turkey which costs twice as much as a normal hormone-happy turkey.

As I arrive home and chat with a friend about my experience, she says that is exactly what CNBC as saying: people are tired of being stingy. Let's hope we all lift the tide again.

Senior Moment

My friend just became a proud homeowner. She came over to talk it over tonight. One thing leads to another, and soon, we are chatting about many random things. At some point, she says "What the hell was I going to say?". It happens, a lot more often than before. I am happy to share in her senior moment. It's most embarrassing when you are trying to impress someone. Since, neither of us are even dreaming of doing this to each other anymore, we look at each other in silent appreciation of the thought that has been lost forever. It does not deter us though.

We continue on our path of remodeling her house from top to bottom.

November

The day starts like a typical weekday for me. I awake, and slither my way into the shower stall, emerging semi-human. I make coffee, warm up the milk, shake a little cocoa in, and survey the kitchen for crumbs to be swept.

After checking my email, and downing my cafe mocha, I whirl my vacuum cleaner around, hang the laundry on the clean tech dryer (aka the laundry drying rack), and tackle more emails. This morning, I have a power walk with an acquaintance in town. Charlie knows something is up and gets ready too. We make it down together to the first cross street, where Charlie stalls. This forces me to take him home, hop into my batmobile and speed down to the meeting point. Gorgeous weather and intriguing conversation ensue.

In the afternoon, I head into San Francisco to meet a delightful person to discuss business. My phone rings, which I silence with apologies. Two hours later, I hear my youngest on voice mail asking for a ride home from school since he has his trombone and cannot manage that and his back pack on a bike. I summon help from my spouse, who swoops up the baby who has practically turned into an ice cream. The pain of thinking of the wait in front of school alone.... His siblings are right in their cool critique - why didn't he call papa in the first place? Why did he not think ahead? He spends hours at the library anyway, what's the difference spending it in front of school? HOWEVER, my heart aches and I feel bad as I zoom home to check his pulse. OBVIOUSLY, he lives and is NOT AT ALL traumatized.

Small Claims Court, etc.

In pursuit of justice, I soar into the small claims court this afternoon. Little do people know that earlier this morning, I have trekked to the pediatrician with child in tow to find that he is actually NOT choking to death, and has NO strep germs. Nor do they know that I have been on a call to figure out complex solar finance structures, and figure out what RMBS securitization entails, while cooking a chicken in the oven for lunch.

Charlie is front and center in court - the case should be remembered as Charlie vs Delta Air Lines. The horrible ordeals endured by Charlie and my friends who had to care for him were revealed despite feeble attempts by Delta Air Lines to deflect attention to unrelated issues. I thought of wearing "before" and "after" photos of Charlie on my T-shirt, but other issues prevented me from getting my act together. So, to save the defendant from humiliation, the court has taken the case into "submission" (whatever that means) and the order will be mailed. I can smell victory, but my stomach hurts like crazy. I didn't think I was nervous, but I suppose I was. A whopping $3700 of claims - at one point, the judge asks whether "this is for the dog", to which I reply that the dog is still alive albeit very neurotic. She hastens to clarify that she did not mean it that way, but simply wanted to know if all $3700 was for the dog's travel arrangements, which they unfortunately are.

As I walk in the door to the house, said dog greets me, and immediately climbs up on the sofa and rests his chin on the cushions. Visions of Charlie and Snoopy overlap as I imagine the psychiatrist asking about post-trauma impacts.

2 months

It is exactly 2 months since we came back from the summer in France. My screensaver has photos from the summer. It feels so close yet so far away now, and so much fun (granted, the cleaning, shopping and laundry have faded into the background of memory in a place labeled "trauma"). What is left is the essence - the growing nieces, nephews, kids, and the extensive uncle, aunt, cousins, parents, grandparents in law. The history that we have been through and continue to walk through together... photos are great in capturing the moment.

This week, I have been good. I have cleaned, shopped, and laundered (as I have done for the past couple of decades), and have done my swimming/meditation every day. I now know who comes when to do what at the pool. I have also deactivated from Facebook after being accused twice of stalking my daughter. Now really... who has time for that kind of crap? In addition, it had started to feel like too much information on everyone. I have been told about the virtues of Twitter, but am not convinced enough. Pork ribs and root vegetables for dinner ensure that no cold germs should attack me.

OMG ETC.

A friend of mine was nice enough to tell me she gets bits and pieces of my life through this blog.

The quest for passion and livelihood continues. The most recent reincarnation is in marrying clean tech with finance. I find myself zooming up and down the 280 highway in pursuit of the perfect combination of good for the Earth and good for the family.

I am happy to learn that the Mill Valley Refuse which services garbage collection in my neighborhood has incorporated composting. I now have a little pot with a lid for my tea bags, coffee grinds, chicken bones and such. Compared to Japan, where we use tea leaves and newspaper strips to sweep up dust, and coffee grinds to deodorize cigarette butts, the US has always been very decadent in its garbage disposal.

After a 30 minute dip in the local pool, I stop by the library to pick up a book to discover my true self. Just like Eat, Pray, Love, the author of this book finds herself in the bathroom praying for help. I find this so typical of women. Why don't we just plunk ourselves in the living room to ask for salvation??? No, we have to go to the least favored chamber of the house to break down. Have we not evolved from the days when we waded out to the fields to give birth to life?

Silicon Valley

I have been zooming up and down the Pacific strip between Tiburon and San Jose. I am now convinced that clean tech is the next Messiah. So, I peddle my ware to get my foot in the door so to speak. During the course of "networking", I meet many, many interesting people, some more interesting than others. What strikes me as very unique and great, is the openness of people in Silicon Valley. In traditional finance, folks don't let others in on what they know. They spread their elbows out wide parallel to the Earth, and deter others from getting in. In Silicon Valley, people seem to know that what comes 'round goes 'round, and are very open about introducing newcomers to their contacts. This is what probably makes Silicon Valley great, despite having no natural advantage to being the innovation capital of the world.

Excel

My HP17BII, which I acquired in 1992 is out of battery. I have been lazy and have not replaced the batteries. So, when my 12-year-old daughter asks me a math question, I open Excel and add a formula: = avg(A1:A6).

???~!!!

My excel does not understand this simple function. And, now I know why. It understands French! I should have typed = Moyenne(A1:A6)... I wonder therefore whether numbers are feminine (which they are not). Maybe, average is feminine, which we are certainly not!!!

Back

We have been back in the Bay Area for exactly 7 days. The difference is striking. Baguettes are close to $3 here, while they are 0.90 euro in France. Cars are big and shiny here, while they are small there. People are very straightforwardly nice here, while they are quirky nice there.

We have decided to go off cheese and wine for a while. The kids say they cannot bear eating the cheese here, when they still have the French cheese lingering on their palates. I thought I should give my liver a break. Tonight, I break down and pour myself a glass. Not bad I say, as the full moon rises over the East Bay and the night settles in. In France, I was afraid I would not think so, but in fact, it is very nice to be back in California. Charlie evidently thinks the same. His appetite is good, and his coat is thick and smooth. Good thing I bought weight control food for him at Costco.

All you need is love

This morning, we deposit our niece at the train station in Antibes. Two weeks together. I find her unchanged from the first time I saw her 16 years ago - the same sweet child. Normally full of life, she is not feeling well this morning, as she needs to face the real world tomorrow. 23 years older than she is, I feel the same heading back in two days. Life is not easy, but full of love.

As we look for train 6174 car 5, we run the full length of the station twice, only to find that she is in train 6074 car 5 after all. I thank my stars for having supplied me with the required exercise for the day.

It rains all day, and our roof leaks in several spots. For a grand house 50 years old, this is not too bad. We prepare for our departure in our own ways - I face the world with mucho laundry, mucho nap, and mucho wine. Others with mucho violin and mucho computing.

Tomorrow will be full of sun, according to the young lady at the supermarket cashier. I sure hope she is right.

Been there, Done that

Today was a been there done that kind of day. Tomorrow my niece leaves to Paris, and she wants to say she's been to Italy. So do my kids, and so do I. So we take the train to Monaco and connect to Ventimiglia, which is the first stop in Italy where the train of the Principality of Monaco deposits us. Fridays are market days. We descend on the Italian town, and head to Pasta Basta, which we learn is a restauraunt featured in Nice-Matin, and is also featured when you Google Ventimiglia. Anyhow, we ate 6 full plates of pasta, which were all good, and said "Basta" to the place, and strolled off to the market. This summer is very much Roman in fashion. Young and old are wearing Gladiator sandals with Roman tunics and Turkish pants. It feels a little like the '80s with Olivia Newton John and Travolta. The kids bargain in French, Italian, English and Mandarin (as the Chinese have penatrated Italy). I acquire a half kilo of Gorgonzola, which is much appreciated back home. Speaking of home, my mobile phone was destroyed upon the return of Julien from violin camp. It was found in the washing machine the morning after. I forgot to borrow my husband's, and my niece forgot hers as well. None of us remember our house phone number. When we finally return to Antibes, I call my husband's office number in San Francisco, then my sister's in Paris, leaving messages to please get in touch with us. My niece calls her friend in Paris to get our number in Biot as well. In an hour, we are transported home thanks to my sister-in-law and her boyfriend, showing off our Roman outfits and our cheese.

Tonight is rabbit, which turns out coming from Carrefour with the head attached. My sister-in-law turns green in the face, and I summon my husband (her brother) who gleefully attacks the head. I hear him call my name and wisely run the other way. As predicted, he comes with the head of the rabbit attached to a fork, with an entourage consisting of my youngest son and my sister-in-law's vegetarian boyfriend giggling like infants. They spend the next 30 minutes traumatizing all around them with the rabbit head before succumbing to the charm of Gorgonzola. I am convinced that the French are all savage Gaulois, like the Asterix and Obelix cartoon I have studied this summer.

As I wind down, my husband comments that I have spent the day doing things I don't like - riding crowded trains, eating heavy food, and shopping. But I love watching the children having fun doing all this. And so, I feel content tonight.

Anti-climax

My in-laws came and went. It was great fun having my parent-in-laws and my uncle and aunt-in-laws over for the week (or weekend for some). It's always a little bit of an anti-climax when guests leave. The send-off is bitter sweet, the meal preparation lulls for lunch, and the laundry needs to be done, but then there is the quiet again, and one has to face the real world.

Never mind that! There is a bottle of Chardonnay chilled for aperitifs. Two chickens are roasting side by side in the oven, one with miso/ginger and the other with Dijon mustard mayonnaise - an east meets west kind of dinner.

Tonight, we have a quiet household - three girls including my niece who is as sweet as pie, and our 11-year-old baby son. They too are anti-climaxing in their own little rooms, and at the same time gearing up for the next set of guests to arrive. Even Charlie looks a little melancholic. Maxime is vigilant - after giving a sorrowful hug good-bye to his great-uncle and aunt, he turns to me and says, "I am going to try my best to make a good impression on my cousins this weekend!" That's the spirit, I think, as we play a game of mille borne.