the Blethering Spot

The time has come at last!

Have you been curious about our Big Secret? Have you lain awake at night, perplexed, cudgelling your brains? Have you written me emails, begging me to confide in you? Have you alternately shouted, begged, whined and pleaded? Have you knit your brow in consternation?

Yes.

Yes, you have.

But the wait is over, readers. Here it is, what we have all been waiting for.

Isn’t it shocking?

It’s true. Here’s the story. Better go get some cookies, because it’s a long one.

Right from the beginning of our marriage, we planned to adopt. We thought we might have two or three children, then adopt. For the first ten years or so, the whole concept of adoption just seemed a million miles away. We talked about it every couple of years, but we were too busy making ends meet to really think about it. It was still the “someday” plan, but it was pretty remote. And looking, even casually, at the cost of adoption paperwork left us reeling.

But this fall / winter, we started talking about it again, this time seriously. It was triggered, actually, by a “So, are you guys having more?” kind of conversation with Christy. When I was relating the conversation to Mr Gwen, later, he said matter-of-factly, “Well, we will have more, when we adopt. Right?”

We looked at each other for a moment, and one of us (I don’t remember which) said, “You know, what’s stopping us from doing it now? What are we waiting for?”

And suddenly, from that moment on, we began seeing adoption everywhere we went. If I clicked on “Next Blog,” it would be an adoption blog. If we turned on the radio, it would be a news story about adoption. If we read a book, adoption would be the main theme. It was almost freaky, the way we saw it everywhere we turned.

It didn’t take long for us to start feeling pretty confused and unsure of ourselves. We researched adoption, and the reality of it is *not* the same as the romantic idea of taking in a sweet, lost little orphan and living happily ever after. In real adoption, you’re dealing with attachment disorders, abuse, institutionalized children, FAS, grief, post-traumatic stress, AIDS, learning disabilities and major behavioural challenges. We felt very drawn towards Ethiopia, but we weren’t sure that we should adopt transracially. Are we, a Caucasian family living in northern BC, equipped to bring up a child from another culture? And just how, exactly, are we planning to fund this?

So, if you remember, we went to Edmonton in January for Break Forth. Remember?

Before we went, we seriously prayed. We prayed. We prayed. And we prayed some more. Because even if adoption is a wonderful thing, if G0d isn’t specifically telling us to do it, it won’t work. We needed some clarity of vision, some “yes-this-is-what-I’m-saying” kind of direct guidance about it. And what do you think was one of the major themes at the conference?

That’s right, adoption. And not just adoption in general — oh, no, it was very specific — Ethiopian adoption.

So here we go! It’s going to be a long, looooooooooooong row to hoe. Ethiopia is one of the least expensive, and one of the quickest, countries out there in terms of adoptions, but it will still be a very long wait, particularly the fund-raising aspect of it. Patience does *not* come easy to me, but it’s one of the biggest things we’ll need! We’re expecting it to be about a 2-3 year process, so I will have plenty of time to learn to wait.

That’s it. There it is. Stick around, it will be a fun ride! And, as always, we would appreciate your prayers.

Attention: Joni!

I have found it. The coffee. The coffee of the bright future, the coffee of hope and the coffee of peace. It’s Ethical Bean’s Family Blend. It’s fantastic coffee, 100% organic, fair trade certified, and proceeds benefit the Adoptive Families Association of BC. It’s based in Vancouver, and they actually have given their contracts to shipping companies based on the availability of hybrid vehicles.

What’s not to like?

Note: this is the last day to get your name in for the bloggy giveaway! Winners will be announced on the evening of March 1. Bonne chance!

Am feeling distinctly celebratory today, as my G00g1e Ad$en$e* account has finally topped $100. This, dear readers, is fabulous news for a northwestern BC girl who has recently set up a new savings account to fund A Certain Something Which Shall Shortly Be Announced.

I remembered that my quirky, ebullient and marvellously celebrated sister hosted a yarn giveaway when she reached $100, in a gesture of benevolence.

I’m all for benevolence, readers. So I went poking around the house and found the following items.

*yes, I am a little paranoid

I’m off today. HALLELUJAH! I have a sick child at home, so we are all still hanging around in our PJs, drinking herbal tea and playing chess. It’s a lovely day, the sun is shining, and there is no hint that it could possibly snow any more — at least for today.

Watched “Sicko” last night, which is the Michael Moore movie about American health care. Six words describe this movie: THANK GOD I LIVE IN CANADA. All my friendly American readers, how do you manage it? I would be terrified, even if I was insured. I cannot, CANNOT believe that hospitals actually refuse care to people. And that you actually have to PAY THE HOSPITAL when you are discharged! And that even if you are insured, you have to pay a deductible! Kee-razy. I just can’t imagine. Oh, Tommy, you are my hero.

In other news…. am working a charter tonight. I like charters.

Good bye! I’m off to whup my children in a game of Rat A Tat Cat.

I’m off my feed lately. (Sadly, only figuratively. I still have no trouble packing away 3 squares and multiple snacks. But that’s another entry.)

Started doing Pilates this week, and I am HATING it. Yes, hating it, I say. I am not enjoying contorting my body into odd angled shapes, nor balancing my powerhouse core, nor curling into a “C” and throwing my poor self all over the unforgiving floor. I fear for my health. I have gotten a dedicated fitness partner, however, so I will have to use all my powers of ingenuity to worm my way out of this commitment. (Why? do I promise to do things like this? Why?)

Am going to Vancouver AGAIN next week, and I’m grumpy about that, too. I won’t have any time to cruise around, and I had so hoped to buy a couple baby gifts while I was there. Looks like I’ll be staring at these things for the entire trip:

1. airports
2. airplanes
3. a white board with clever phrases all over it like “manage what you own” and “safety: our top priority,” etc.
4. take-out Chinese
5. shuttle buses
6. the view from the hotel room
7. airports
8. airplanes

Friends have said to me in the past, “Ooh, you get to go to the city all the time! You’re so lucky!”

Meh. Little do they know that all we do is spend half our time on planes and buses, and the other half stuck in a corporate establishment where everyone is minding their Ps and Qs. Sometimes during these meetings I have an insane urge to let out a huge ripper, or belch loudly, or shout out “POO!” just to lighten the atmosphere.

Last week I was possessed by a rogue Spirit of De-Cluttering, and I actually packed away all the papers and books from our homeschooling endeavor. It felt good. Sadly the spirit was cast out shortly thereafter, and I have settled back into my position on the couch.

This takes the cake for the stupidest, most inane post ever to be posted on the Blethering Place. My apologies to you all.

I am taking my sorry self off to bed to read Calvin and Hobbes. Good night.

After reading Horton Hears a Who several years ago, I was dead impressed with Dr. Seuss. So when I saw this title while browsing shelves in the library, I had to pick it up.

The thing you have to know about Dr. Seuss is, he is a truly pedagogical author. This means that not only his subject matter and setting, but his voice, sense of humor, and perspective are keenly appealing to children. As with other children’s writers, it also means that the picturesque and the ridiculous are mixed in equal parts with the oddly touching – just as the protagonist and the antagonist are the same person.

Now, when Tweetle Beetles fight, it’s called a Tweetle Beetle Battle. And when they battle in a puddle, it’s a Tweetle Beetle Puddle Battle. AND when Tweetle Beetles battle with paddles in a puddle, they call it a Tweetle Beetle Puddle Paddle Battle. AND when Beetles battle Beetles in a Puddle Paddle Battle, and the beetle battle’s puddle is a puddle in a bottle, they call this a Tweetle Beetle Bottle Puddle Paddle Battle Muddle. AND when Tweetles fight these battles in a bottle with their paddles, and the bottle’s on a poodle, and the poodle’s eating noodles, they call this a Muddle Puddle Tweetle Poodle Beetle Noodle Bottle Paddle Battle. AND–”
“Now wait a minute, Mr. Socks Fox!

The main players on the stage are the Fox and Mr. Knox (who is, interestingly, initially referred to simply as “Knox”). Throughout the book the Fox attempts to get Knox to say extremely difficult Tongue-twisters that progress in complexity, culminating in a description of a Tweetle Beetle Battle: Knox has been upset repeatedly throughout the book (“I can’t blab / such blibber blubber! / My tongue isn’t / made of rubber”) and finally explodes and pushes the Fox into the battle, simultaneously obtaining revenge and terminating the Fox’s dissertation on the beetles:

The reflections of the glorious contented past or the glittering champagne-coloured future are portrayed in a strange and specific way – the events of the book are impossible to date. The year is never mentioned. At different times I thought it was set in the 1980’s, the late 1960’s, the 1990’s, and the ’50s. It’s an effective way of temporally displacing the reader in order to manufacture sympathy with — and, conversely, distance from — the narrator.

Knox is a weird dude. He’s severely emotionally distant from everyone around him, and has an unnervingly amoral approach to life. He’s mild-mannered and apathetic, and sinks himself into fantasy constantly. I was not sure which he most reminded me of – Bartleby the Scrivener or Walter Mitty.

Very well, sir.
Step this way.
We’ll find another game to play.

Flashes of the profound come thick and fast in this book. Written as a verbal exchange, it is a mild series of observances about the performance of daily life as the narrator sees it pass in front of him. There are many characters that enter and exit the stage before him, and his descriptions of them are hilarious, quick-witted, misguided, sobering.

Sue sews rose
on Slow Joe Crow’s clothes.
Fox sews hose
on Slow Joe Crow’s nose.

Hola! We are home!

• Hours stood in line to see Third Day: 2.5
• Number of mp3s hoping to purchase from Break Forth: 6
• Lowest temperature in Edmonton: -42 C
• Number of flights spent sipping wine in business class: 3
• Average daily temperature in Cancun: 25 C
• Number of iguanas sighted: approx. 12
• Number of geckos sighted: unlimited
• Favourite Spanish phrase learned: Senor! Dos Equis Ambar, por favor!
• Number of coral reefs snorkelled over: 1
  
• Number of stingrays sighted, like, SIX TINY FEET below our tender and defenseless selves: 1