Emily Goes Green

First things first. Go over to Kara‘s blog and give her a virtual hug. She needs it right now.

Alrighty then … now that we got that bit out of the way …

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So the title of my latest rambling is “Emily Goes Green.” (Duh, sayeth the reader. The title is right there!)

And no, I don’t mean that I’m going “green with envy” … although the fact that my SIL is due to deliver by c-section in a mere 4 weeks might have me feeling more blue-ish/green (turquoise, if you will) for a spell. I just hope it’s not one of those spells that have me riding up and down and upside-down, much like a roller coaster.

Check out the "green" toilet in the Portland, OR airport!
Check out the "green" toilet in the Portland, OR airport!

Nah, I’m talking about the “social awareness” type of green. You know, save the environment, Mother Earth needs to be nurtured, etc. You see, I’ve always been “green” in some sort of way since my later years in high school. Did a lot of recycling of paper, plastic and aluminum for most of my life. Collected newspapers for school recycling projects. (Heck, I’ve also been known to use the Sunday Comics as wrapping paper!)

In fact, at work I’ve been called the paper recycle queen. I’ve collected the stupid d*mn banner sheets off of our printer / copy machines and have forced people to reuse the back of the banner sheets in our fax machines. I’ve encouraged people not to print up things that they can readily access off of their computer. I’ve helped to establish desktop faxing so there is less waste of paper. I’ve stopped buying bottled water and instead have been filling up my reusable water bottle from the filtered tap water in our cafeteria.

Here's a closer look at the "Green" toilet instructions!
Here's a closer look at the "Green" toilet instructions!

And I do all this because I know (even before watching “An Incon.venient Tr.uth” ) that mass consumption is going to be the death of our earth. (Go see “W.all-E“, by the way …)

So imagine my surprise when we went to pick up our rental car during our recent trip to San Diego (which, by the way … pictures are forthcoming!) and found out that the rental company assigned a hybrid vehicle to us. Yeah, I was ecstatic … because for the past couple years, Hubby & I have been thinking of getting a hybrid vehicle.

Let me preface this by saying a couple of things:

  1. We live in the Motor City, so everyone (and I do mean everyone) owns a vehicle because … G*d forbid, we have any reliable source of mass transportation (and no, the Pe.ople Mo.ver does NOT count) …
  2. Hubby works approximately an hour and a half away from where we live and has single-handedly put on over 200,000 miles on both of our cars over the past five years or less … AND
  3. Gas prices just SUCK

So yeah … having rented this vehicle just happened to provide us with a great opportunity for us to test-drive a hybrid. If only the first half hour wasn’t so damn funny … and I do mean funny as in “strange” and funny as in “ha ha!”

Now, Kara … I have to warn you, you’ve already heard this story … so, turn away if you must!

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Okay, picture this. It’s 11:45 pm California time (PST). Our friend J and I are waiting for Hubby outside in the rental car lot while he signs the paperwork. Hubby come out and excitedly tells me that they rented out a hybrid vehicle to us. And because we have about 5 bags (including our carry-ons) among us, Hubby said that he’d walk to the rental and then drive back to pick us up.

The Magic Key
The Magic Key

About ten minutes later, no car. Suddenly my mobile phone goes off and I immediately know that it’s Hubby. “I need your help,” he says. “Can you walk over to the car and take a look at something for me?” So I walk a couple hundred feet to the white To.yota Pr.ius, where Hubby has the car door open and is handing me a keychain containing two keyless entry remotes. “I can’t figure out how to get to the key out to start the car.”

I look at the little black rectangular keyless entry remotes and think that perhaps there’s some sort of button on it to “release” the key; much like some other cars do. After about 5 minutes of pushing and pulling and sliding different thingies on the remote, Hubby decides to walk back to our friend J so that the two of them can bring all our baggage over.

In the mean time, I slide into the driver’s seat to get to the compartment where the owner’s manual should be. And then I see this green, glow-in-the-dark rectangle by the steering wheel. No way … I remember thinking. It can’t be that easy.

"By the Power of Greyskull ..."
"By the Power of Greyskull ..."

But sure enough, I take the keyless remote and slide it right into the green rectangle. And suddenly there’s lights and a beeping noise as if I left the car door open (which I did) with the keys still in the ignition (which apparently the remote was the the key).

And yet … no sound of the car running. “Oh,” I say out loud, as I notice this big round button that says “Power” on it. Perhaps if I push the button …. but still nothing. By this time, Hubby & J are by my side, amazed that I even figured out how to get the keys in the car. And yet, every time any of us go to press the “Power” button, we would get no indication that the car was actually running.

So now it’s about 12:15 am PST, which … for those who just flew in from Michigan … is about 3:15 am EST, the three of us had poured over the d*mn owner’s manual with absolutely no idea on how to start the car. And all we wanna do is get to our hotel room so we can crash for the night. “This is ridiculous,” says Hubby. “I’m gonna ask the girl inside.” And so off he stalks.

Within 3 minutes he’s back at the car. “She says to press the brake while pushing the power button.” (Because that little bit of info is nowhere in the owner’s manual!) And so he complies. Bingo … the digital odometer finally appears as well as a slew of other important car features (climate control being my priority, of course!). “There we go,” says Hubby, as he starts to shift the car into drive.

The Funky Gear Shift (and the Park button, too!)
The Funky Gear Shift (and the Park button, too!)

“Wait,” I say to Hubby. “Are you sure it’s even running? I don’t hear a thing!”

“It is,” Hubby assures me. “The girl said the engine is extremely quiet, so it always tends to fool first-time hybrid users.” After that, he presses the brakes and places the car into “Drive.” And once he lets go of the gear shift, it promptly returns back into neutral. “Weird,” Hubby says and tries it again. And once again, the gear shift returns to the neutral position.

J and I look at each other and I know we’re both thinking the same thing: “How the h*ll do we get this car to move forward. Or backward. Or at all?!

“Oh, I get it,” says the driver. “I think the gear shift is a simple lever.” Sounds strange, but I knew that Hubby meant that really … the car could move either forward or reverse at the touch of a button. But because we’ve all gotten so used to the concept of a gear shift, the carmaker developed a contraption that works very similar to what we were familiar with. And once we all understood that, Hubby “pseudo-shifted” the car into Drive,” and finally got the car to move forward.

Wicked (and I mean WICKED) Interior
Wicked (and I mean WICKED) Interior

In the midst of our short drive to the hotel, we discovered other crazy things about the car. For instance, the digital display monitor is multi-functional and controls not only the interior climate but the radio tuner as well. And when the car is placed in reverse, the digital display monitor functions as the screen for the “backup camera” feature, which allows for a view of the car’s rear area. “How frickin’ cool,” we all think when we see it for the first time.

By the time we pull up to our hotel, it’s about 1:00 am PST (4:00 am EST, if you’re keeping track of how long our day has been). “Uh …,” says Hubby. “Now how do I put this sucker in park?” I glance over at the display and confirm that there is no “Park” option in the gear shift. I shrug my shoulders as Hubby and I both happen to catch this little sticker label right by the gear shift. “Push the ‘P’ button to place in Park,” Hubby reads out loud.

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So yeah … that was our first ever experience with a hybrid vehicle. I have no idea if this is what other hybrid vehicles are like, but this one certainly had the three of us simultaneously banging our heads up against the car window and laughing our a$$es off.

Making the world a little greener ...
Making the world a little greener ...

Now ask me if I’d ever drive another To.yota Pr.ius again, and the answer is a resounding yes. After figuring out how to work everything in the car, the little bugger was so d*mn cool. But the best part was … after about six days of driving the car essentially all over San Diego and as far up as Del Mar, we only used a half a tank of gas. That’s almost 250 miles of driving at a mere 4-5 gallons of gas.

Makes me wanna paint the whole world green …

Blue Steel*

My day started of with Hubby not feeling so well. We’re still in San Diego and, as of the end of today, we have two more days left to enjoy sunny California. I feel bad that he’s got the scratchy throat and the hacking cough (which has progressively gotten worse), because I’m pretty darn sure I was the one who gave it to him.

I tried to convince him to stay in the hotel room today and sleep, but Hubby insisted he wanted to return back for the second day of the San Diego Comicon. Apparently his love for all things Comics (which, by the way, is the main reason we’re here in SD) superceded his need to get some well-needed rest.

The next silly thing I did after dropping Hubby and our friend J was drive down a one-way street. But I swear to G*d … the street was two way five feet ago! And then, in a blink of an eye, I’m suddenly dashing cars headed straight towards me. Probably not a wise thing to do, especially in the midst of morning rush hour traffic (and not to mention Comicon traffic as well).

Last night, however, I vowed that nothing … including almost getting into a head-on car crash … would spoil my day today. That’s because today, I had plans to meet up with Kara.

As I approached the strawberry blonde gal studying in the cafe at the La Jolla mall we agreed to meet at, I was suddenly struck with such an almost indescribable feeling. It was like seeing someone I hadn’t seen in a very very long time. And, at the same time, meeting someone for the very first time. Which, in essence, is the truth.

I’ve never met Kara in real life before, but by reading and commenting on each other’s blogs, we both agreed that we felt we knew each other … really got each other. And that was what made it seem like we’ve been the oldest and bestest of friends. Or,as we joked around, that we have been really good friends for like twenty or so “internet years.” You know … kind of like dog years in comparison to human years.

So getting to really know one another, that is without the barrier of cyberspace, felt like a total piece of cake. I mean seriously … the minute we started talking, we talked about everything. Even the things we couldn’t really talk about on our blogs or comments.

And we especially talked about all the emotions we had about our inability to have children of our own flesh and blood. And it was raw … and sometimes tearful (okay, Kara … I’ll admit it! I was the tearful one! 🙂 ), but yet it was like a breath of fresh air. Because you know what? For once in my life, I was eager to talk about what a number IF has done to me. And how it’s wreaked havoc on my otherwise normal existence. Or how it’s changed me from a normally upbeat and happy person to such a jaded and sadly disappointed mess. And I could cry about it and not feel ashamed for who I am and what I’ve become. Because Kara understood. Without hugging me or saying a word … I just knew she knew the shoes I was walking in. And I hope I did the same for her.

So after like, more than an hour of gabbing at this cafe … Kara insisted that we head out towards the beach. Because really … I was perfectly content in sitting at this place and talking. But since I had already confessed to her (and the rest of the blog world) that I love the ocean and the beach, she was intent in bring me to the coast. And after a beautiful drive up the coast, we ended up at Il Fornaio, a wonderful Italian restaurant in Del Mar that has this amazing view of the ocean. We then proceded to devour the excellent breads and thin-crust pizzas we ordered. And we continued to talk non-stop. We talked about our parents and family. We talked about our love of 80’s music. And, oh … we talked about how our cute waiter with dark hair and gorgeous eyes reminded us of B.en Sti.ller with his trademark “Blue Steel” look in the movie, Zoolan.der. Lucky for us, he was a nice guy who, not only provided us with more of their excellent bread to take home, but also was more than willing to take a picture for us. (It’s just too bad that I still can’t download any of my pics until I get home … grrr!)

After lunch, Kara and I had to part ways. And yes, I was incredibly sad to say goodbye. And even though my Hubby’s love of comics got us to visit San Diego, being able to meet Kara in person totally made my day and … I’m being totally honest here now … made my entire vacation!

So Kara … whenever you make it out to Michigan, you and Duane are more than welcome to visit us. And then we’ll plan a Michigan IF blogger round up. Or better yet … when should we start planning our trip to Las Vegas with the other bloggie friends?!

Ack … I miss you already!

* Again, pictures to follow once I get back home. 🙂

Sun-soaked*

I am home. Or at least where I feel like Hubby & I should be if we ever could afford to move out of Michigan.

Hubby & I, along with our good friend J are here in San Diego, Cali. We arrived around 11:00 Tuesday night and spent the following day at the beach. Well, at least some of the day.

We started the day out driving up to La Jolla where we had a late breakfast. The minute I stepped out of the rental car, I suddenly felt giddy. I turned to J and said, “I can already smell the ocean.” The complete happiness around being close to the ocean must have been really evident, because this led to quite a discussion around my apparent need to constantly be around a body of water.

“It’s the Cancerian in me,” I explained to J. “I just have this longing to be around water.” Which is so true; the desire to constantly be close to a river, a lake or an ocean. “That, and the fact that I’m such an Island Girl at heart,” making reference to the fact that I’m 100% Filipino.

“Which is rather funny,” said J, “seeing that you were born here in the US and have never lived in the Philippines.” I could hear my Hubby chucking. After all, he was actually born in the Philippine Islands and moved to the US when he was 5 years old.

“Yes,” I said to J. “I know. It is rather odd.” I explained to J that somehow being around water makes me feel so content. And happy. And less anxious or highly stress. Like I do when I’m back in my regular environment. “It’s like I let go of my Type-A personality when I’m in places like this.”

“I had no idea you were Type-A,” J deadpanned. And we all knew that was furthest from the truth.

But there’s really something about being around the water that calms my anxiety. As we all sat on our towels later that afternoon on Pacific Beach, I felt peaceful. After playing in the waves, Hubby & I plopped down next to J, who was reading a book. We laid down on our towels, pulled out our books and proceeded to do the same thing.

As I lay in the sun-soaked beach, I took in all the action around me. The chatter of the families around us … the toddler next to us who was shoveling sand to make a castle … the sound of the waves crashing onto the shore and then retreating back into the ocean.

Wow, I thought to myself. Reading a good book and being at the beach?!  Next to Hubby, these are the other two loves of my life.

That’s when I turned to Hubby and said to him softly, “I’m home.

* Unfortunately, I forgot to bring the appropriate cables to download any of the pics I’ve taken thus far … so check back next week when I get back to MI to see some amazing beach photos I’ve taken. Ack! How un-Type A was that?!

A "Hula"-va Birthday

Happy Birthday, dear Hubby of mine! I know I’m a day late in posting my birthday wishes to you on my blog, but as you already know … we had one busy weekend!

First there was heading out to the movies on Friday night to watch “The D.ark Kn.ight” which you and I agreed was awesome. Too bad He.ath Ledg.er won’t be around to reprise his role as the Jok.er … 🙁

And then Saturday … on your actual birthday … we spent the day in Ann Arbor, our stomping grounds during the fall football seasons for the Wolverines. Wasn’t it fun checking out the Ann Arbor Art Fair? I love going to there every year because it always reminds me of the summers when we were still dating and the fun and interesting conversations we’d always have on the way to and from the Art Fair. I just find it humorous that we always come back from the Art Fair with more books from Shaman Drum Bookshop and clothing on sale from the various boutiques than we do actual art work! It’s just so sad that very few indie record stores (that actually sell vinyl) exist in the area anymore …

Ann Arbor will always bring back such fond memories of us and our college years … when we would spend countless hours driving back and forth from Oakland University and the University of Michigan, just so we’d be able to spend time together. Remember the times we’d risk life and limb in the dead of winter just to make it to each other’s place? Apparently not much has change in the eighteen years since we’ve been together (not to mention the twenty LONG years that we’ve been friends).

Okay, so that’s not exactly true. I mean, geez … we did age twenty years since then. We finished college and we’ve managed to have pretty successful careers. We got married and we bought our house. We’ve managed, between the two of us, to fill our house with books. And movies. And music. Not to mention photo albums. And cool electronic gadgets. And computers (many of which have been relegated to the computer “graveyard”). And pets, which have become our little mutt of a family.

But let’s not forget the one thing that has always filled our home and our hearts since that incredible day almost 12 years ago. And that’s the love that we have for one another. The one thing in my life that I am most grateful for. I thank my luck stars every day that we share the same love for one another, the same heart.

So today … err, or rather yesterday … I want to wish you a wonderful birthday. May the fun and happiness we’ve had in Ann Arbor and in every moment of our lives … continue for years and years (and years) to come.

Birth. School. Work. Death.

Kudos to anyone that can remember the name of the 80’s band that recorded the title of this post.

My last post had me pulling this song out of thin air. It was the whole rinse and repeat life cycle that I’ve been living in for so long that had me chanting the chorus (and subsequent title) of this song.

I remember singing this song in high school thinking, “Oh G*d. Is this all I have to look forward to after college?” The thought of just working day in and day out for the rest of my life just seemed pretty, well … boring.

Now realistically I know that life is not broken down into just those four stages. There are many more milestones to pass before we can get from one stage to the next. Going through school alone takes, at the very least, 12 years of our lives.

Personally, I can remember a lot of “firsts” during those years. The first day at school. The first time I got a bad grade. My first crush. My first boy/girl dance. My first kiss. My first job; which was also my first time being discriminated upon simply because of my ethnicity. My first road trip; which was followed shortly by my first speeding ticket. And I certainly remember the sense of accomplishment I felt after surviving all those “firsts.”

And then there was my graduation from college, which would symbolize the end of my formal education. I distinctly remember how wide open the world seemed after that moment; so many opportunities available within my reach. I could have traveled the world at that time. I could have continued on to get my masters in Nursing (which I still could, I suppose). But the truth is, I chose the path of which I thought was of least resistance.

The Asian-American in me did what every good Filipina does. I lined up a job right away and started my orientation before even attending my official graduation ceremony … before even taking the NCLEX (RN licensing board exam). Hubby & I got engaged shortly after that and then the focus was on saving money for the wedding and for a house.

I don’t regret the choice I made, because quite frankly, I had a lot of fun those first few years after college. I had an awesome job with awesome co-workers. I moved out my parents’ home (against their wishes, mind you) and into my own apartment. And of course, had the joys of being newly engaged and planning a wedding.

And then the fairy tale wedding. A gathering of family (trust me, there was a lot of extended family) and friends from both parents’ side as well as our own. Great music, good food, and just pure joy and happiness. It was, and I can honestly say this without prejudice, the best day of my life thus far.

We found our house within months of our wedding and moved in the day after Thanksgiving that year. We didn’t have much to fill the home at the time, but it was our own abode. Our first home.

Ten years later, we have filled that house, and have pretty much outgrown it. Too much junk for two pack rats that tend to keep everything. Too much clutter to constantly be picking up after. Two cats and a dog inhabit the home and shed all over our furniture and our clothes. We have shelves among shelves (not to mention random stacks) of books. We have a lawn that we can barely take care of, because quite frankly, we just hate yard work.

And that’s because we’re work-aholics. While I’m not in love with my job, I’m good at it and I constantly have ideas to make processes flow better … which tends to get me in trouble sometimes. But I’m appreciated at work … and that makes the world of difference, knowing that I am making a difference.

And Hubby? While he tends to downplay his talent, I consider him very innovative and groundbreaking with his design. He has this love of typography (that I have since picked up) that, in my mind, makes for smart and witty design. I respect him immensely because, as a Filipino-American … going into an industry that isn’t related to health care or engineering or accounting (at least here in the Midwest), is a sacrilege. Unfortunately, since moving to a smaller ad agency with more conservative clients, he has not had that much opportunity to do the innovative design work that he loves to do. And that simultaneously frustrates him and pushes him to work harder. And longer.

So what am I getting at with my rantings about the life cycles … and particularly work? Well, it goes back to the song. And where I’m at. Or rather, where I’m stuck at. It’s that part of life that comes after love and marriage. Yup, that baby carriage. Or in my case, the lack of one.

And here Hubby & I lay. Stuck in the “work” cycle of our lives. Our lives revolve around what we do best in life … which is work. Many family members and friends claim that we devote too much of our lives to work. That there is more to life than working. And for them, there probably is. They have family to tend to. They have children to care for, to raise … to be responsible for. They have other priorities in life.

While being childless certainly makes a big difference in the priorities of our daily life. And while it’s also the largest disappointment in my life that I can’t produce a biological child of my own … that’s not the only reason I feel stuck.

It’s that feeling of being alone. Because, in my humble opinion, being childless (and not by choice) tends to lead to a somewhat isolated life. Yes, I realize that this is no different than most people with a life-threatening disease or condition may feel. And I know it’s no different than, let’s say the loss of a child. While I, in no way, mean to belittle these circumstances … it’s just that it goes back to the “physical-ness” of these events. These are things that people can actually see. Or touch. Or understand why someone would feel so hurt or heartbroken. These are things that people can actually “put a finger on” when it comes to expressing sympathy for someone.

With being infertile (and therefore childless, in my case), most people cannot comprehend the pain that comes with being left childless. Most people that I have encountered that see we are without kids automatically assume that it’s by choice. And since we spend so much time at work, that we’re just not “settled down enough” to start a family. Thus the conversation always turns to why we don’t want kids … which of course, is furthest from the truth. And the subsequent nodding and vacant stares from these same people, as we vaguely explain that we’re “still waiting for our miracle.”

And so that’s how the isolation begins. We’ve either became isolated because a) we’ve refused to fully divulge our infertility issues, or b) we have told them too much and have thus eliminated about 90% of conversation with those who do have children. Because really … how can life with children not encompass every aspect of a person’s life? How can one with children not be able to bring up what their sons or daughters are up to? Or how their children are taken into consideration when deciding on simple things … like what they’re going to do for dinner. Or even more complex things … like deciding on which presidential candidate will best help their children’s future.

Depending on the person or persons, I can handle conversations like that. And I can have great conversations with certain people and relay to them that not everyone can identify with how it’s like to live a life with kids. But for the majority of people … I find that I’m too nice of a person to push the subject. And besides, I hate confrontation.

In addition to being stuck, to remain childless, especially after this past birthday, has also created the feeling of being “left behind.” Over the past ten or so years, Hubby & I have encountered many couples who have since gotten married and subsequently started their family right away. Some of those couples have also had issues trying to get pregnant, but had ultimately been successful. We’ve watched other family members and friends move forward toward the next milestones in their lives … their first pregnancy, their first child followed by many “firsts” for that child (first smile, first word, first step, etc). While Hubby & I are simply left in the shadows.

Ironically, Hubby & I were one of the first couple among our friends and family to get engaged. The first ones to plan a wedding. The first ones to get married. I can say, hopefully without sounding arrogant, that we were a couple that many of our friends and family looked up to. We were not the usual older Asian couples that most of us grew up around. They were more afraid to show any type of affection amongst the conservative Filipino peers. And they, at many times, communicated with double-edged passive-aggressive tones with each other. We, on the other hand, were a couple that weren’t afraid to show some PDA. We were a couple that geniunely listened to each other and communicated openly. And to the parents of our Filipino friends and family, we were used as “good Filipino-American examples”: Happily married after finishing college and establishing our careers.

And now … we’re the ones left behind. We’re the ones looking up to those family and friends who have now gone through all the milestones in life that we have … and now have surpassed us. We’re the one’s on the outside looking in. We’re the ones that long for the children that aren’t coming. We’re waiting for the next milestone to surpass, to knock my wedding day off its pedestal as the best day of my life. The next stage in the cycle of life …

And if we keep going in the childless direction we are at … perhaps the next stage in life will be that very last one.

Yes … realistically I know life is not all about milestones and stages. Life is exactly what we make of it. And how we want to fill those times in between these moments is much more important the milestones that we pass.

I’m just trying to feel my way around the filler time. And trying to find a way to feel less isolated and less like a fifth grader who just failed sex ed.