I’m running in the hotel gym that overlooks the pool. There are no pretty bodies in the pool, just kids and the occasional mom and the attendant who pointed my way to the gym. When I say pretty bodies I mean fit adult women with a pretty face. And that is sexist of me to write. As I’m running, slowly, without pop in my legs and I think it’s really unfair to be short and with a bald spot. I’m glad the pod of a treadmill with it’s TV on CNN blocks the view of myself in the mirror as it spares me from my husky self. The is nothing young and good skin about me at 51. But I do work. ...

Lydia and Elisa had birthdays this week with Lydia becoming a teenager and Elisa turning nine. I’m feeling grateful for having these two beautiful, smart, caring daughters Four years apart they are at such different stages. Elisa holds my hand when we walk to the market and she cuddles up next to me when we watch a TV show. She’s outgoing and talks a lot. She likes to snoop around the house and was always to first of my kids to detect if I was dating someone new (fortunately, not a too frequent occurrence). She’s becoming less picky about what she eats and she is nostalgic for the meals and activities we used to do way back when she was seven. She finds silly things silly and funny things funny and dramatic things dramatic. All evidenced in her love for the Jackie Chan/Chris Tucker Rush Hour series. Lydia is also caring and has grown up so much these past 18 months but she’s not so interested in holding hands or public signs of affection. She shows her love with jabs, the tell tale Allio sense of humor the cuts sharp and sometimes cross the line. For instance, we were talking about her mom’s upcoming birthday. I was proposing a countdown. Every day a big WeChat posts with “120 days until 50” combined with an unflattering picture. It’s kind of mean, but instead of stopping there we came up with “50 years of bad hair styles” and “Things that didn’t exist when mom was born” ending with dirt. Birthday party wise, we celebrated Lydia’s birthday last Tuesday. She helped the ayi make roast chicken and mashed potatoes. It is a similar to what we’ve had for Thanksgiving and I was pleased to see her picking up on the tradition. Elisa is on vacation with her mom and the other kids and will have a celebration tonight. My gift is supposedly packed. When she’s back, I will through her another little party including her nostalgically favorite ice cream cake. ...

The Serial podcast taught us that memories are fallible and yet it is with these memories that we live. I am in the fourth or fifth or sixth grade and home from school. I wanted to get some kind of musical instrument for school. I always wanted to play some kind of instrument but neither had the skill or vocation. To my surprise my dad gave me $4 to buy an instrument. I excitedly walked down to grand avenue and into a music shop. $4 wasn’t getting anything. I was disappointed, I really wanted a guitar or a sax or who knows what. I went into Ben Franklins. They had a flute. It cost maybe $2. It was plastic. Against my better judgement I bought it. I spend the rest of the money, again against my better guilt infused judgment on a plastic car and gum. I walked home, not so excitedly. The gum, like treats now, not delivering on it’s promise. When I got home my dad’s mood was different. A mood I forever learned to read. He asked what I got, I want to say he asked for his change too. I showed him the car and the flute. He was outraged and wanted to know where I spent the rest of the $4. I told him gum. That did not help. He stepped on the car and crushed it. He snapped the flute in half. I don’t remember what happened next, I guess I went downstairs without dinner. Later he would apologize for breaking the plastic flute. ...

I wake up at 8am and walk a half mile to Starbucks where I order an Americano. I prefer a brewed coffee but I don’t want them to make a pot just for me and if they already have made it could be stale. Negotiation. My card doesn’t work which annoys me but not as much as it used to. Progress. I sit down with my Americano and text the kids saying that I will see them for lunch but that I won’t do the 10am basketball. It is father’s day, 2017. Acceptance Father’s day this year fell on the week that the kids were with Yang and in my normal wo is me mode I wasn’t going to say anything. But the kids and overtly Elisa and Lydia were looking forward to father’s day with Elisa telling me two weeks ago that she already had my present and would I like to know what it was. So I got on a mobike and met them at an American style mall and we had lunch at an Italian restaurant. I ate a lot. The manager stopped by and Yang knew him from back when we used to go to the same restaurant in another location; pre-Elisa days. I had no idea who he was. I shook his hand, one of those weird man shakes. Lydia found it funny and weird and I’m reminded of my dad. We are going into the back door JCPenny at Tanforan mall. A man my dad knows is loading a van or something and they exchange greetings. But in what would now be called bro man speak with a couple vulgarities mixed in. I was like, wo, what is that. Never knew my dad had a personality. Door opened. I don’t think I ever saw that kind of personality from him pop out again. In fact it is hard for me to think of times where he seemed to be enjoying himself. No music. Laughter? Maybe watching The Newlywed Game on TV but even then I cannot say I detected enjoyment or joy. Joy was measured by the lack and negative emotions. Maybe that was as good as it got for him. Represent. I spent the weekend trying to organize the clutter of my apartment. A lot of the clutter is from the kids. Drawings. Leaving books and small toys around. I found a drawing from last year’s father’s day that Lydia made but did not quite complete. It showed her smiling, looking into my eyes, and giving me a gift and saying “I love you” under the title “imagined”. Below that she had another picture where she is handing a gift but looking away and saying “here”. The title below is “actual”. Been there. After lunch and a frappachino the kids and Yang go to a movie. I hug Lydia which isn’t something I do enough of. I hug Aidan who I also don’t hug much now that he is 14. Elisa is grabbing on my arm wanting her hug. They turn to go inside and then Aidan looks back. “Tell your dad happy father’s day” he says. I will. Generations. I walk back home. It takes me about an hour but I have nothing else to do. I listen to podcasts and music which I enjoy even if no one can tell. ...

I’m in a taxi having just left the Hangzhou airport and feeling relieved that with my limited to no Chinese language skills that I’m on my way. I am often reminded here that I’m working without a net and this is most evident when I’m travelling alone. As I was making my way in the taxi line I was beating myself up for everything that could and may still go wrong. And then I was reminded of a new song that I like. It essentially goes that if you want to fight in the ditch, then have it, I’m going to be up here, taking the high road. I’ve been thinking about this a lot as I climb out of that ditch even sometimes it feels like I’m climbing against mud in a rainstorm. ...

I am on a mobike riding to Chaoyang park to meet Aidan and Lydia. The bike hits a bump and the basketball pops up from the front of bike basket. I catch and and place it back down all in a semi continuous motion feeling somewhat coordinated for once. And then focusing on not hitting another bump I get to the park, a massive urban park on the order of Golden Gate Park. There is a sea of mobikes and other bike sharing brands. I notice people are dressing like it is summer which I like and why not, it is 85F outside. Aidan and Lydia are already warming up on the court, waiting for me. They have the half court to themselves which surprises me in the complex of six or so full courts. I pay my 20 RMB and join them. I should be warmed up from the bike ride but I settle for taking set shots and moving in straight lines. Lydia is dressed to play, she’s been asking me to help her with it and we’ve been doing some dribbling and passing drills after dinner. She is somewhat coordinated but struggles to dribble with her left hand and is pushing her shots. She does look the part, long and lean with black knee length shorts. Long and lean is relative when it comes to Allios and Aidan is more like me. Squat. But he moves well, zigging and zagging. He loves the step back three pointer and the underhanded driving layup. We play a game of 21 and and game of red-white-blue. I win. Hey, I won’t be able to do this much longer. During the second game a few other people join our court and shoot around. I take same jumpers and make around five mid rangers in a row now that my knees and shoulders are warm. Aidan says, “wait, aren’t you like 50, you shouldn’t be able to move like that”. Now, is that a compliment? More people join our court and start a game of five and five without asking us. It is a bit rude but we are almost done anyway. I’m trying not to let others rudeness get to me these days. I get a ride share car for Aidan and Lydia and they head to their mom’s home. I decide to walk home, past the park goers, kite flyings, roller bladers, and bikers. It is labor day weekend here. The next day Sabrina and I would explore the forgotten and kind of forgettable Temple of the Moon in the west of Beijing. We then biked through the ulta modern western finance district, through hutongs, and then along the main East/West street that cuts between Tiananmen Square and Forbidden City. As we get close we can see the square and forbidden city are all decked out. Flags blowing in the wind and then a water fountain show not unlike one might expect in vegas. It was a reminder of what a cool place this can be. ...

Gratitude is the new Zen and I find my gratitude with a bit of spite. I am feeling grateful to be picking up Elisa after school which I only get to do maybe twice a semester. I have an afternoon of fun planned. Video game arcade, dairy queen ice cream, and Chinese “hamburgers” for dinner. A am grateful for the anticipation of joy and it did turn out to be a great father and daughter afternoon. But as I wait I am also spiteful. The reason I needed to pick up Elisa was because her mom did not give the Ayi (nanny) her scheduled day off over the weekend so I needed to take a half day off my work to pick up Elisa. The mom didn’t do it because she wanted to go snowboarding for the weekend leaving two of her three kids behind. Last I checked the mountains are opened all week and the mom doesn’t really work during the week. So, how’s that for spite? ...