Torrefaction

Gigi's is where I buy most of my dolls and doll stuff here in Chicagoland. They're a mom-and-daughter operation and they've been in business for ages.  They're definitely an old-school shop, so you won't find much on their website, but they'll take care of anything you like over the phone, they have a strong presence at shows, and the shop itself is a dream.

The shop is up on Northwest Highway, in a nice area on (you guessed it) the northwest side of the city, right near the city limit.  I get there by taking 294 to the Touhey stop, then heading east on Touhey to NW Highway, and then southeast down to the shop.  From where I live in the southlands, it's about an hour's drive, and I cheerfully make this pilgrimage every couple of months (or more) because it's always a fun experience.

The shop is large, bright, and chock-full of beautiful things.  When you arrive they offer you coffee and cookies, and they'll look after your coat or anything you don't want to carry.  Whenever I've been there, at least two people were working behind the counter, and while they let you browse in peace they're always ready to help out or just to chat about dolls.

Going around the shop (in my head) clockwise, they have: Alex dolls; a case of Gene dolls; two wall-length bookcases full of plush toys and bears; a paper doll rack; a book rack; a glass case full of fancy barbies of various types.  In the middle of this section there's a case full of large, pretty cool porcelain artist's dolls that are too expensive for me to bother looking at, so I don't really remember exactly what's in there, but if you collect the really exclusive stuff, they've got it. Anyway, moving around the store, there's a whole lot of regular barbies on an open shelf set along with various action dolls, planet-of-the-apes dolls, etc - all those 12" movie tie-in things.  This is encircled by cases of dollhouse miniatures and dollhouses.

Next there's the nostalgia room, which is full of affordable, "as-is" dolls from the 70's and thereabouts -- Tiffany Taylor, Effanbee dolls of the world, Jem, Suzy Walker, Sweet Sue, Krissy, My friend Mandy, and so on.  Then there's the clothing room, which has a zillion doll outfits on hangers.  There are some particularly nice ones for older porcelain lady dolls--some of which will fit contemporary dolls, too, or can be altered to fit them.  I got a nice vintage white petticoat and chemise for one of my Tonner American Models recently. Connected to the clothes room is the wig & shoe room, which also has new bodies for antique porcelain heads and other parts and pieces.  Most of the wigs aren't for small dolls like Tyler or Tiny kitty, and a lot of them are in little-girl or baby styles, but last time I was in they had a couple very nice BJD wigs, too.

Moving along, they have a case marked "doll museum" that's full of all kinds of amazing stuff, none of it for sale, but tons of fun to look at. They've got a long case full of vintage alexanders, and another long case of contemporary alexanders--cissies and wendies and so on.  In between the alexanders is a wall of ethnic dolls, including those odd silk chinese-lady ones that are more like statues, because they can't be posed.  In the center of this area are cases with some amazing porcelain dolls, both contemporary and antique.

Then there's a section with all sorts of play dolls--inexpensive madeline dolls, some American Girls dolls, Ginny & Toni, Betsy McCall.  There's a case full of those Franklin Mint-type bride dolls.  And then there's a whole section devoted to Tonner dolls, from Tonner co. as well as Effanbee, plus a bunch of ready-to-wear outfits for Tyler and friends.

Here and there throughout the store are smaller displays with small collections of all kinds of different things, from porcelain half-lady pincushion dolls to R. John Wright felt dolls, to Pullips and Blythes.  (And there are probably 50 other types of dolls I haven't described here, because I can only remember so much!) There are some things they don't carry - I don't recall seeing many contemporary porcelain baby dolls (which I personally find hideous, so I don't miss 'em), although they do have some terrific antique ones (which are much cooler).  They're not eager to get on the BJD bandwagon, but they are going to carry Goudreau doll's "American BJD's" (if they ever arrive! I've got one reserved).  Sometimes you'll find stuff they bought from collectors--I found some great Kitty Collier outfits there, that turned out to have come from someone who got them on Ebay. 

They seem to have a good relationship with the doll creators, particularly Tonner and Odom, and are always sponsoring or hosting some event or other.  They're very good about keeping customers in the know--you can have a note added to your file and they'll call you when they get new stuff from whomever you collect.  And they have sales and discounts pretty frequently.  Oh, and when you check out they give you a bag of candy!

So if you're in the Chicago area, and want to be dazzled, you should stop in.

Posted by alchemist at 07:02 AM | Permalink | Comments (3)

So I'm playing Titan Quest, and it's fun and Diablo-like, which is great.  But playing it right after playing Oblivion for a long time (and getting bored & bogged down in Neverwinter Nights II) has got me questioning some standard RPG stuff.

1. Why does a tomb containing 4 sarcophogi have 6 skeletons and 2 zombies?  Are the extra ones visiting the 4 who belong there?

2. Why would a giant spider be carrying bag of gold?  (Actually, I've heard a good explanation for that - based on the giant crabs in Pirates/Black Kat:  That's all that's left of the last adventurer they ate) 

3. Why do zombies carry health potions?

I'm sure there are more, but that's what I've been noticing the most.  

Posted by alchemist at 11:50 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Susan Clements
Originally uploaded by marydell.

15 years ago today, my friend Susan Clements died in a campus shooting at IU, Bloomington Indiana. There's not a lot of info about her on the web--it happened back when you had to look in a newspaper to get any information about that kind of thing. But plenty of us remember her.

Susan came from a great family, who lived on the other end of my street when we were growing up. She and her fraternal twin sister N. were good at everything. They did their homework every day and practiced for their music lessons. Her older sister had a very dry sense of humor and was always cracking wise, and her younger sister I mainly remember from those days as sweet, and a bit of a tomboy. She had brothers too, but they were older and so they hung around with their own friends--maybe with my own older brothers, I don't remember.

Sus and N. went to a different school than me, but one summer we were all at school together. I was taking Math because I was terrible at it, and figured summer school would give me a better chance of passing, because the classes were designed for people who'd already flunked.  They were taking extra classes to get ahead on their college prep credits. And their dad was teaching, so he drove every day and I rode along. I rarely had fun at school but that was a fun summer. Sus and N. were the valedictorian and salutatorian of their high school class...I don't remember which was which but it was the subject of friendly rivalry between them.

They went to Notre Dame and I went to IU, but I worked at ND during the summers and N. and I would hang out at lunch, because she was working there too. Sus worked at Martin's grocery during the summers so I would see her and say hi to her there.  Both Susan and N. were the kind of friends where you could go a couple of years without running into each other, and then pick up right where you left off. 

After college we all went to grad school - N. went to a Chicago school for a PhD in a math-related discipline and Susan came to IU for a PhD in English.  I was pursuing an English Lit PhD as well, but I was taking out student loans while she had some sort of fellowship.  She was probably the best student in our class of 75 people--certainly, she was one of the top 10.  But she was never stuck-up about it--she was literally one of the sweetest, most down-to-earth people I've ever known, at the same time as being brilliantly gifted.  We weren't in most of the same classes and didn't live near each other--I'd been living off-campus near downtown since my junior year, while she was in the graduate student dorm on the other end of campus.  I would hang out up there, though, and once a week we would get together at a bar called Bear's Place for cheesecake and gossip.   She was developing a specialty in women's studies and wrote a terrific paper on Virginia Woolf; I remember it because one of her classmates read it at her memorial.

Susan had a steady boyfriend for about 4 years, but he wasn't nice to her and didn't make her happy.  I didn't know anything more specific than that.  At one point she had broken up with him, but he hassled her until she changed her mind and took him back.  After a year or so at IU--he was in school in California--she broke it off again, hoping that he would move on.  Around thanksgiving of 1991, he showed up for a surprise visit, staying for a few days, accompanying her to a class or two, and introducing himself to her professors as her boyfriend.  She didn't push back because she didn't want to make him angry, and she still cared about him and wanted to let him down as easy as possible.  When he went back to California she figured he'd gotten the message and it would be ok from then on.

She started dating Steven Molen in the spring semester, I think -- I got to know him then, anyway.  He was a year or two younger than her, cute, super nice, and also gifted.  A short story of his appeared in a Norton book that year called Flash Fiction--it was a good story, published in an important collection, back when the short-short was a new trend. I was envious but proud to have a real published author among my friends.  And Susan's friends were excited that she had found a boyfriend who seemed right for her. 

Her ex, (whose name I remember, but don't generally invoke) continued to call and hassle her, however.  One day I dropped by her room in the dorm to find her and Steven very upset, because she had just gotten a phone call from her ex. Susan had told him that it was really over, that she had a new boyfriend.  And he had told her that he was going to kill her.  He had gone on about it, telling her never to get married, never to have children, because she was going to die.

Susan wanted to think that he was just trying to upset her, and that he didn't mean it, but deep down she knew better, and she told her family, and she told the police.  Nobody knew what to do.  There was no witness to what he had said, and stalking wasn't illegal at the time.  He kept calling her, but he didn't repeat his threats; he was pleasant and acted like nothing had happened.  She worried, but she didn't talk about it; she cut her hair short so she would be harder to recognize, but she continued on with her life. 

After that it was exactly what you would expect; all of her classmates and professors got together in the faculty lounge and cried for hours, and tried to think of ways this could have been prevented.  But there's really no way to prevent someone from killing you, if they're willing to die in the process.  Indiana did pass a stalking law the next year, though; one of the first states to do so, as I recall.

I wish memories faded consistently.  I don't remember most of the hundreds of conversations Susan and I had over the years, just the ones when we talked about him.  I remember that she was a wonderful person, and that everyone felt that way about her, but the specifics get fuzzy as the years go by. She didn't do anything crazy or stupid or outrageous, to make herself the subject of the kind of funny stories that stay fresh in everyone's minds forever.  And since she was the helpful girl who'd say "give me the camera, I'll take pictures," at a party, I have a couple of dozen pictures taken by her, but only three of her.

This is one of them, taken about three months before she died. It was at a party for me and my friend Angie, who sort of share a birthday.  Susan was 23 years old here; she was in her second year of graduate studies and was starting to make a name for herself in the department.  Professors were getting interested in her as a scholar, not just as another face in the crowd.  Looking at her you would never know the strain she was under, and that's how she wanted it...she strove to be happy, and largely succeeded.

Posted by alchemist at 06:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (3)

All right, I guess it's my turn to invoke the wrath of assorted commentors...it's going around blogland right now.  For refs, see recent chatter at The Naked Ovary and at The Thin Pink Line and Wet Feet.

Anyway, let me start off by saying I'm ecstatic for Karen and for all adoptive parents who finally get a referral. Ec-fucking-static.  And I long for the day when that will be me. We're nearly done with our paperchase, and after that we're staring down the barrell of a wait that's getting longer daily.  I haven't ridden the infertility-go-round as long or as hard as a lot of other barren chicks, but TTC took such a toll on me & our relationship that we had to move out of our damn bedroom and into the former guest room because I just feel too unhappy in my old room.  And I loved, loved, loved that room five years ago when I painted it and got started trying to fill our new house with babies.  So I have had my share of pain in this, and there's more coming.

But I also feel a ton of empathy for women and men who dont' get to raise their children.  I can't imagine how painful that must be, but I REALLY REALLY TRY TO IMAGINE IT.  I believe this is my DUTY as a future mother, because my child will need to know everything she can about her first parents.  So I ask questions, and I read blogs, and I sit and think about it.  I'm not a saint; not by a long shot.  I don't want to share my child with another woman, no matter what.  But I HAVE TO!  I asked my body for a baby, and it told me to FUCK OFF.  So I'm asking the universe to bring me a child by another route, and that means I have to sacrifice something--a lot of somethings.

The main thing I have to give up - that I think all adoptive parents have to sacrifice - is the standard concept of family.  Adoption is not exactly the same as biological parenthood...it's just fricken not!  It's not WORSE, but it's not identical.  You're re-making your idea of family and of parenting when you adopt, and unless you're willing to do that, you'll always feel weird and uncomfortable about your child's origins and the underlying truth of the relationship.  I think loving a child means loving the parents who bore her, no matter how uncomfortable that is; no matter how unlikely it is that you'd have a relationship with them any other way.  The adoptions that I've seen that work the best are the ones that accept and adapt to the new reality of what family will be, rather than saying it's just another variant on the biological family.  I will never tell my daughter that I "carried her in my heart" or any of that, because I don't know her!  Another woman is carrying her, maybe right now, and that's the truth of the matter.

You know, I read the saddest story. It's being presented as a happy story - twins adopted separately from China, reunited because their adoptive parents found each other. Which is great for the twins, sort of, but here's the thing--they were abandoned separately. The first one was a day old, and perfectly healthy; the second one was left in the same spot a week later, and had a heart defect, so was adopted as a "waiting child" a year after her healthy sister was adopted. And here's what kills me about the story--if they were abandoned like that, it must be that the parents chose one child, because that's all they could manage, and gave up the other child. And then a week later they found out that the chosen child was sick, and so they couldn't manage to keep her either. How horrible to have to make that choice twice, and to know that you had given away the healthy child (who you could maybe afford to keep) and couldn't help the sick child. AUGH!!! What horrible, horrible circumstances that these people are in, and what horrible choices they have to make.

The comfort in all of this is that I feel like I'm in a partnership now, a partnership with a woman I may never meet.  She's going to have to make an excruciating choice, and leave her child in the hands of fate. And I'm going to be there to catch her, to catch her child, to make it so that, whether she knows it or not, her child will survive and be safe, and be loved, and learn to love her.  So I'm not alone in this process that basically flays everyone who goes through it.  And neither is she.  I hung Buddhist prayer flags for the baby's mother and father in the room that will eventually belong to the baby, because those prayers are carried on the wind--I don't need to know who to pray for; the wind will take them where they need to go.

So, the key to empathy?  Don't confuse it with guilt.  You see, I'm confident that I'm doing the right thing.  I'm helping out a child who needs help, and hopefully easing a spiritual wound for a woman whose burdens are heavier than mine.  I feel happy that I'm eventually going to be a mom, and sad that she's going to lose her child, all at the same time.  It's not difficult to feel this, although it makes me ache.  I'd love to feel pure happiness, but that went out the window along with my fertility, and so this more complex, layered feeling is the one I'm going to have for the rest of my life.  And that's how it should be.

Posted by alchemist at 03:40 PM | Permalink | Comments (22)

Wacom drawing
Originally uploaded by marydell.

Posted by alchemist at 07:05 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

At the food court yesterday, I went to the Chinese place.  Two Chinese women were working behind the counter...one taking orders and one ringing them up.

Me: Two orders of potstickers, please

Woman #1 to Woman #2:  Dos potstickers!

Woman #2: Dos potstickers?

Woman #1: Dos potstickers, por favor!

Woman #2 to me: Dos potstickers, I mean two potstickers, $5.15 please.

Posted by alchemist at 06:17 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

It's good that I'm actually getting my teeth into the book, and putting words on disk, but I hate having to push forward through the most incredibly crappy dialogue ever. Bad diologue is painful enough to read when someone else wrote it.

I totally rock at plotting.  I'm pretty good at characterization.  I can generally muddle my way through scene structure.  And I suck like an industrial-grade Hoover at dialogue.  I suppose this is what I get for spending my formative years writing poetry.

Unfortunately, as with so many things in life, the only way out is through.  So I'm putting my clunky, blather-laden scenes down on paper so I can push my fairly engaging characters through my cool plot arc/meat grinder and watch them come out at the other end, deeply changed, yet-still-flawed, with nothing memorable to say for themselves.

Then I'll do a second draft and hopefully learn something about dialogue between now and then. In the meantime, I soldier on.  The knitty among you will understand how I feel  about this when I say:  Imagine knitting your first Fair Isle sweater, using colors you hate, in a yarn that catches on your skin a little bit. And knowing that you can't switch to the pretty, soft yarn until you've mastered the pattern and are ready to knit a second sweater.

Partly in the service of my terrible first draft, and partly because it's fun, I've been reading the wonderful Jane Espenson's blog. She wrote a lot of the funniest Buffy episodes, and her blog is full of succinct lessons about writing.  In particular, she breaks down bits of dialogue and explains exactly what makes them work, or not work.  There's also nice slices of LA life in there, and answers to all kinds of interesting questions about how to make it as a TV writer. Writers of all stripes should check it out.  

Posted by alchemist at 08:40 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Frequently, when I tell people we hope to adopt a baby from China, they'll respond with a version of this statement:

"Oh, that's great!  Chinese babies are soooo cute!" 

Variants range from the fairly innocuous to the egregious.

"My friend adopted a little girl from China and she is just so adorable!"

"Oh, they're so cute!  I want one too!" 

"Those girls are just like little China dolls!"

"Yeah, she won't look like you, but how could you NOT want one when they're so darling?"
 

So, what's the right way to respond to this?

1. "That's right - we don't want one of those ugly American babies!"

2. "Sure, they're cute when they're little, but once they get big, they'll bite your foot right off!"

Posted by alchemist at 06:14 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

My friend's receiving her M.S. in Clinical Psych tomorrow - I'm going to see her walk for it.  This will be my first-ever commencement.  When I got my B.A. my folks were in Europe, and I'm not a big ceremony person anyway (I got married at court, thank you very much), so I skipped it.  And my M.A....well, I didn't get my M.A.  I left grad school after 2 year's worth of M.A. work and an additional year toward an M.F.A. in poetry (yup, that's right, poetry).  If I had finished the paper I was writing on "Dissolution of the Narrative Self in Edgar Allen Poe" and passed a French test, I would have my M.A., but by the time I was leaving school in 1993 academics had become pretty meaningless to me.  And I sucked at French.

I wasn't cut out for grad school...I like hard work, and to study in order to further my work.  And I enjoy abstract knowledge - I read history, psychology, and science for fun.  But when the work IS the getting of abstract knowledge...well, then it's just a drag.  When I moved to Chicago I figured I'd make a living as an editor or proofreader, but after a couple of weeks in the city I discovered that people would pay me just to type on a computer.  Like, $15 an hour to put addresses into a spreadsheet.  How crazy is that?  I've loved computers since I was a kid playing "adventure" on the campus mainframe...I never imagined that I could get paid for my hobby.

So, my original life plan was to get my PhD and become a lit professor.  I didn't really expect I'd find anyone to marry, since I have a quirk or two and had generally been unlucky in love.  But I was determined to have a baby eventually...I figured I'd get some friendly fellow to knock me up if I reached 35 without a steady boyfriend.   The way it's really worked out, I've been with my husband 10 years this month (married for 6.5 of those years), but I don't have an advanced degree, I've become a monster of corporate coggery, and I'm infertile.  So it's all backwards.  I'm happier this way, I think, and certainly wealthier than expected, but confused.

Moving along to the shrunken heads...my friend is going to be a therapist.  Already is, actually, because part of her program involves a practicum, where you do the job with supervision from older wiser types.  I figure she should have something whimsical to take the edge off when she's had a bad day at the office.  I couldn't find any good shrunken heads on the internet (nothing affordable and not gross/made of goat skin, that is) so I decided to make her some.  These are about 3" across and they're made of crayola model magic clay, plus beads and yarn.  There's a largeish wood bead in the center of the head with beading wire strung through it and out the top of the head so they can hang from a hook. The "hair" is just knotted around the wire after the head is dry and then the knot is glued down to the head with glue-all. Model magic dries in 24 hours, no baking or any of that crap...nifty!  Kiddie art supplies are always more fun than the grown up equivalents.

I'm gonna have to make some more of these so I can keep 'em for myself. 

Posted by alchemist at 09:12 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

I want to make it clear - I think that it’s FABULOUS that Illinois goes the extra few miles to make sure we’re providing a good home for a child.  However, it’s still a pain in the butt!  My brother’s in Indiana and their home study was way simpler.

We chose our home study agency because compared to some others we talked to, they require less paper up front, they do more of the writing for you, and they cost less.  When time is of the essence, hearing that we have to write our autobiographies just as part of applying is not encouraging.  Our agency was more into questionnaires, forms, and talking to us and taking notes, and their fees are reasonable.

So:

HSA=home study agency,

IAA=international adoption agency.  Really I could make this just “AA” but people would come here from google looking for something else and be mad.

SW=social worker

FUN: this is where we have EXTRA FUN trying to fulfill the requirement.

These are the steps we've finished, in not quite chronological order:

1. Fill out HSA application form.
2. Fill out HSA adoption applicant financial statement.  Make sure it matches IAA financial statement, which is formatted completely differently and includes different categories
3. Get HR at work to fill out HSA employment verification form letter.  Make sure it matches differently formatted IAA employment verification letter.  FUN:  My employer is smallish, so I went to a gal I know in HR, told her about the adoption, and promptly got everything I needed.  Hub’s employer is largeish, so he went to his management, who forwarded the form to the HR department, which is in another state.  HR filled the form in, putting “CANNOT DISCLOSE” in all the fields other than Hub’s job title, and sent it to HSA like that.  Hub had to get a new copy of the form from HSA, fax it to HR in the other state with another piece of paper okaying disclosure, and then wait until our SW told us it was ok
4. Go to infant/child CPR class.  Hear about numerous horrifying things that happen to infants and children.  Practice on plastic people with no arms or legs.
5. Go to daylong “Our Rainbow Families” class sponsored by HSA (this is coming up, so will report on that later). FUN: Hearing name of class inspires friends to ask questions ranging from "oh, you're adopting a gay baby?" to "does that mean they serve ice cream in the class?"
   
6. Get scanned fingerprints taken by Identix in  odd school-bus company lunchroom setting. Wait for Illinois State Police (ISP) to receive prints and produce our state clearance. (This is not to be confused with the local city clearance our IAA wants).  FUN:  Hub’s clearance arrives within 2 weeks.  Mine does not.  After another week I call Identix.  They are based in Springfield, IL, which has been hit by a tornado that very week, so their office is light-staffed and their phone system recommends calling...some other time.  Calling ISP nets me a “We don’t have any record of anyone with your name requesting a check” and wanting to know my tracking number, which the Identix scanner guy did not give me.  A week later, call Identix again, get through, nice lady looks up my tracking number and calls ISP for me, and whaddya know, the prints were processed just a couple of days before.  Receive clearance in mail about 4 days later.
7. Send ink fingerprint cards (also done by Identix at same appointment as above, but handed off to us) to FBI for federal criminal background check.  Wait 6 weeks for response.  Worry about whether other people could be using my fingers for crime while I sleep.  Receive clearance at last.
8. Pass another background check, this one fingerprint-free, showing that we have no record of child abuse (this was entirely handled by HSA so was easy).
9. Get medical forms filled in by doctor.  HSA was flexible about the forms and so we were able to give our SW a copy of our IAA medical form, with an addendum showing that we’d passed a TB test.
10. Write statement of guardianship - that is, who would raise the child in the event of our deaths.  This entailed actually talking this over together to make a decision (we are fortunate to have more than one excellent option) and then talking to the person in question.
11. Give SW a copy of everything we’ve got in the IAA dossier so far so everything matches up
12. Make house presentable for SW visit
13. Read gov’t website listing tons and tons of recall alerts.  Verify that none of the recall items are in our home.  This wasn’t so bad because we don’t have any baby stuff yet, so could check off whole categories quickly.
14. Feel bad that the stairs to the basement (where the study/future playroom is) don’t have a bannister at the moment, but don’t actually fix it.
15. Give IAA’s home study guide to SW
16. Fill out DCFS application...we're not applying for a foster license but many of the forms are the same.
    
17. Line up 3 personal references and pester them to make sure they don’t delay filling out the referral form when they recieve it (our HSA has them fill in a form rather than writing a free-form reference letter).
18. Fill out vast “basic information questionnaire” about our marriage & values & stuff.  FUN:  one question:  “how do you feel about your sex life?”
19. Find veterinarian for our ridiculously healthy cat, get rabies vaccination & certificate proving same.  (Happy thing: vet says that if he had to guess he’d figure the cat was about 4 years old...in fact, he’s 11)  Also get distemper vaccination, although not needed for HSA...my first kitty died of distemper.  I was about 3 and thought it meant she’d had a temper tantrum.  Which didn’t stop me from going right on having my own tantrums. FUN:  Ahab (the cat) didn’t mind getting a shot, but HATED being out of the house, in the car, etc.  Hub (who took care of the whole vet visit by himself; my hero!) felt guilty for days afterward and totally spoiled Ahab with petting.  On the plus side, it made Hub stop worrying about attaching to a child, since he’s got so much empathy for kitty.
20. Fill out DCFS vehicle insurance certification.
21. Install a smoke detector in basement.  Check batteries in upstairs smoke detector
22. Send I-600A form to us-cis.  Include cover letter saying there are two adults in the house, listing enclosures, and indicating that home study will follow.  Include filing fee plus my fingerprint fee plus hub’s fingerprint fee on a money order, even though the form says a personal check is ok.  SW assures us that a personal check is NOT ok and I believe her.  One month later, recieve reciept, yay!  (This just means I didn't f*&k up the form, not that they're processing it or anything...they need the finished HS for that)
    
23. Go to a total of five SW meetings - one for both of us, then just Hub, then just me, then both of us at the house, then one last one for both at the office.
24. Write a big check to HSA

Posted by alchemist at 06:16 PM | Permalink | Comments (4)

So I arrived in the office this morning to discover that it's "take your kids to work day."  ARG!  I love kids, yadda yadda, but I wasn't in the mood for a whole passel of them running, playing, yelling, etc in my actual work area all day.  Particularly because a lot of my job requires attention to detail. And because I'm still getting used to being INFERTILE.  I spent a lot of time today typing the same crap over and over because I kept screwing up.

I could have put on my headphones or asked the parents on the team to set the kids up somewhere other than our communal table, but I actually do love kids and I don't want to be Cranky Infertile Woman, so I made nice and just stayed late to get my work done after the kids were gone.

So...in the midst of the pandemonium, one of the dads says to me & another co-worker who's still young & single, "This is the world's greatest birth control, right here, huh?  After this you'll never want to have kids, huh?  I'm telling you, world's greatest birth control."

This guy knows my situation - his sister's also adopting from China.  So I sucked it up and gave a wan smile and said "uh-huh" but what I wanted to say is "Actually, you FUCKING MORON, being IN-FUCKING-FERTILE is the world's greatest fucking birth control! YOU FUCKING MORON!!!!!"

But, I didn't.  Let's hear it for take your fucking kids to fucking work day. 

Posted by alchemist at 09:19 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

I should Not:

1. Eat Oreo Cookies.  Even the vanilla ones.

2. Play Frozen Bubble when I should be writing

3. Read blogs when I should be writing

4. Watch tivo when I should be writing

5. Forget to put on sunscreen

Posted by alchemist at 07:56 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Gardening seems like a good antidote for my infertility-based bummage.  I mean, it won't make me pregnant but it's girly and it's about new life and what have you, and it gives me a (probably false) sense that I'm not a total failure as a woman.  So I'm going to fling myself into it as soon as I can.  The temp's a little too unpredictable yet for anything crazy like rose cultivating, though - killing things isn't going to cheer me up--so I decided I'd get to work on the landscaping side of the equation, carting dirt around in a wheelbarrow, de-rocking the space behind the garage, or whatever else needs doing. Even though that's a teeny bit less girly than coaxing tender seedlings up to the sun, etc.

This is the hideous shrub group - a Juniper with 3 thorn bushes sort of woven into it.  This was here when we bought the house, so it's not really our fault, although I didn't keep up with the pruning last year because it seemed pointless.  I've been limited in what I could do to give it a nice shape. The lower parts of the juniper are masses of dead twigs with the vaguest hint of greenery on the outside, so I can't cut far into it when I prune...or can I?

Meet my new toy, the DeWalt Reciprocating saw.  I opted for the DeWalt instead of the SawZall because the Dewalt is way cuter.  Seriously, that was my whole decision process.  The SawZall weighs the same and does the same thing, but is ugly.  My uterus may be misshapen but damnit, my power tools WILL be pleasing to the eye!

Even the saw blades are yellow!  How adorable is that? 

So the saw and I made this big heap of branches...

...and here's my cute little Juniper bush!  Yay!

Posted by alchemist at 08:11 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)

Took the day off to plow through a heap of paperchasing.  Got the I-600-a form sent in (even though the home study is still in progress--our social worker said to go ahead and file now), picked up my police clearance report.  Called to nag various folks - doctor, work references - so hopefully those chunks of paper will be ready soon too.  Left a message attempting to sign up for our home study agency's required adoption class.  Spent 3 hours last night learning infant cpr.  We can't schedule our last home study meeting until we've assembled everything our social worker needs to see, so that's still hanging over us.

I'd really hoped to have all of the needed stuff for the home study pulled together by the end of March, but it's not looking like that'll happen.  Hopefully within a couple of weeks, though.  Identix is checking to see what happened to my fingerprints, since they didn't apparently end up making it to the Illinois State Police, although Hub's did and he was cleared.  The FBI has another set of our prints which will take a few/several weeks to produce a result.  Once LCFS has all that they can finish the home study, which will then be sent off to USCIS for the biggest most important clearance.

Thus far, here are things that make managing the paper mountain a little easier.  Some of them cost money, so take this for what it's worth to you:

1. a laser printer.  Dear God I love my laser printer.  I print everything out, over and over and over.

2. a shredder.  Printouts that have been superseded by later printouts (like ferinstance, an updated version of the adoption petition) go in the shredder.  That way I don't have to worry that I've got the wrong version of something in my "real" pile

3. extra copies of everything.  We bought 5 copies each of our birth certificates & marriage certificate.  That way we can attach them to anything where there's any question about needing them, and if someone just needs to see them, we have spares handy.  The passport folks send your certs back when they've finished, by the way.

4. manila envelopes.  These are the bomb.  Every piece of paper I've got is in a manila clasp envelope, with the contents marked on the outside.  e.g: "CCAI application--completed (photocopy)", "LCFS adoption info kit"  "Docs in progress" "birth and marriage certs" etc etc etc.  Whenever I'm getting a form or filing ready, it gets its own manila envelope, and I list what's needed on the outside.  Once I've assembled everything in the envelope I carry it with me to FedEx (see #8),  photocopy everything (see #9), and put the originals into the FedEx envelope and the photocopies into my manila envelope for easy reference later on.

5. Sharpie markers in every color of the rainbow.  Officially, for writing on the envelopes.  unofficially, because sharpies rock! 

6. A multi-level to-do list.  Sections for "ASAP," "Soon," "Whenever," and "Done."  When I complete something I move it to the "Done" section.  It helps a lot to look at everything that's finished when I'm feeling swamped.

7. Mini Post-it notes.  When I'm filling something out, I use bright heart-shaped post-its (I know, gaack, cute, but hey! I like hearts!) to flag everything I can't fill in or that needs Hub's signature.  I write what's needed on the post-it and pull each one off as I take care of that item.  That way I can fill stuff out in multiple passes, without having to reread the whole form looking for blanks every time.

8. Fed-Ex, for every piece of paperwork that has to go in the mail.  Yeah, it costs 18 bucks to send something, but the peace of mind that comes from being able to track it and see who signed for it is worth it.

9. Photocopies.  Everything I send or give to someone else, I copy first.  That way I can refer to it if I need it later and make sure things like financial statements match up perfectly.

10. A dedicated "Adoption Stuff" folder on my computer, *backed up* to an external drive.  All the documents I've created or downloaded (pdfs etc), go in here.  I'm not obsessive enough to have scanned all my paper-only stuff (yet!) but I have keyed in my own versions of a couple of things that I only had on paper initially.  The LCFS biographical questionairre, for instance--it's about 8 pages of questions, and I don't like writing by hand.  So I created a fillable word doc of it, filled it in on the computer, and saved it to my Adoption Stuff folder. 

11. An alternate project.  It helps to have more than one thing that I'm focusing on.  Even though some days it seems like my freelance work is cutting into my paperchasing time, at other times it's a real relief to *have to* think about writing and art  for a while instead of adoption.

Posted by alchemist at 05:45 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

1. The bright colors.  Being tall and wearing a 1x doesn't make me feel conspicuous enough, so I'm delighted that designers avail themselves of every color in the PAAS Easter-Egg-Decorating pallete.

2. The high waisted pants.  As belly buttons move outward, they also apparently move upward by several inches, and it's nice of the designers to notice this. 

3. The wide, boxy cuts.  Women gain weight evenly all the way around, like sausages, and it's so great to have clothing that reflects this.

4. The short shirts.  My poochy belly wants the world to see it, damn it!  So I'm glad no-one thinks to make a shirt long enough to cover it.  It's particularly edifying to find a shirt wider than it is long.

5. The waist-to-hip ratio.  Although I weigh 200 pounds and am shaped exactly like a voluptuous potato, I like to imagine that my waist and hips are in the same proportion as a swimsuit model, so I'm glad designers keep nipping in those waists.  Nothing's so calming as the sound of the extra fabric around my hips flapping gently in the breeze when I wear pants that fit comfortably in the waist.

6. Dart-free construction.  Rather than sew shirts to fit boobs, designers just make the whole shirt bigger.  So flattering, and gives me plenty of fun opportunities to talk about how I'm not pregnant.

Posted by alchemist at 12:13 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)

So I'm writing this...thing. It's not worthy yet of being called a novel, or a draft of same.  But it's a thing and I've been working on it for a while.

Of course I've bitten off way more than I can chew.  It's what I like to do...take on an impossible task, and wrestle it into submission.  It's how I learn best but it doesn't always work; sometimes I'm the one who ends up hitting the mat.  So this thing has 3 major POV characters and covers a couple hundred years of future history--flashbacks, hidden connections, the works.  I've been wrestling with the best way to get into the full draft--really get into it.  Not writing bits and pieces, like I've been doing, and not outlining, but sitting and writing the thing from one end to the other.  It's like trying to catch a water balloon.

This morning I finally figured out how to do it.  I've been focused on plot, and that ever-elusive bangup first chapter, the thing that'll hook the reader and drag them kicking and thrashing into the book the thing.  But trying to plot this up front is like trying to detail a clay pot before actually throwing it.  Instead, I need to focus on story--the chronological progression of events--and get everything down in draft form in the order it happens in my fictional world.  As long as I mostly choose the right POV character for each scene, I should be able to use the chronological draft to piece together a workable plot for the second draft.

This is good.  This is exciting.  I finally have a door into this thing, instead of an endless series of windows.

Posted by alchemist at 08:28 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I've been thinking a bit about positive adoption language.  I see how some phrases like "to give up for adoption" carry a judgement within the words.  But I'm not sure it serves everyone to discuss adoption only in terms that are pro-adoption and free of emotional freight.  Adoptees and firstmoms in particular have a lot of grief to work through, as well as possibly regret and confusion--you know, negative stuff.  Requiring everyone to use vocabulary that's essentially pro-adoption doesn't seem like it addresses those issues.

I'm picturing this conversation in my future: 

"Mom, why did my real mom give me up?"

"Birthmother, dear. She's called your birthmother.  I'm your real mother."

"Ok, why did my birthmother give me up?"

"She didn't give you up, sweetheart, she made an adoption plan for you and chose to terminate her parental rights." 

"Gosh, suddenly I feel much better about this, thanks!"

I'm not saying positive adoption language is inherently bad, it's just that I'm not sure what words are best for the negative side of adoption.  And for adoption to be a positive force, the negatives have to be discussed and honored.  I think kids (and adults) are smart enough to absorb explanations and not just be limited by simple words.  Maybe instead of the suggested positive language we could substitute phrases that own the complexity of the situation.  And call it "truthful adoption language."

I'd sure love to hear what folks out there think about this--particularly "triad" members. 

Posted by alchemist at 08:10 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

I'm not sentimental or religious enough to say that God is choosing a child for us, and that his timing is perfect, and all that stuff.  Many adoptive parents do feel this way, and I'm not saying they're wrong.  It may be that I'm thinking the same thoughts but using different language to express it.

See, I've been reading archived posts at The Thin Pink Line, and this one really got me thinking:

I’d love to hear if I’m being ridiculous about this. Cuz… to me… it seemed so fucked up to hear that, “We adopted you , because I couldn’t have my own”.. ok fine… but then sobs after sobs about how angry she is that she couldn’t have her own, how empty she feels, what a failure she is, how angry she is at P. because she could have one but didn’t appreciate it, and how grateful I should be that they rescued me from that. 

Wow.  I can't imagine treating a child like this...adopted, bio, clone, niece, nephew, bratty neighbor...any child.  Not simply because it's, y'know, wrong to abuse children (emotionally or otherwise), but because it's such a cockeyed way to think about this in the first place.

I actually have a pretty simple take on the whole infertility thing.  I didn't go very far down the infertility path before deciding to go for adoption.  I could still try Lupron, I could have surgery to find out once and for all if I have endometriosis (and then try Lupron! not a lot of options there).  Maybe my tubes are blocked.  Maybe surgery could correct the uterine abnormality that maybe has nothing to do with the problem but could maybe cause a miscarriage if I maybe could solve whatever the problem is.

What it boils down to is, I don't care what I could do any more.  I'm cooked.  I'm 38 and I just want to be a mom, and I'm tired of feeling bad about myself after years of TTC.  Do you other infertile folks out there ever think maybe you just don't know how to have sex?  Like maybe when you snuck a peek at The Joy of Sex when you were 12 you accidentally picked up the TOTALLY BOGUS edition and have been doing it wrong all these years? I keep thinking "you know, we used to think we were pretty good at this, but apparently we totally SUCK at it, because...NO BABY!"  So yeah, I'm tired of that.  I miss angst-free sex.  And I have a low tolerance for invasive gynocological procedures...a very low tolerance.  The one transvag ultrasound I had was, um, stressful. 

So, how does adoption fit in?  For me, as a means for acquiring a baby, adoption is not as easy as just getting laid and subsequently giving birth would be.  Except that I don't live in imaginary-land, where that would actually work. As a process to go through, adoption seems easier to me than treating my infertility, because of my particular ooogie-woogies about the medical stuff, and because of the high likelihood that it would also not work, while depriving me of most of my spare money.  When it comes to raising an adopted child as opposed to a bio child (jeez, is there a good term for this that doesn't sound stupid?  That is, all children are biological life forms, but "genetically-linked" is just ridiculous, and "my own" is crappy...help?), there's a host of issues that we'll need to work through as a family, sure.  But, a bio child would potentially inherit any number of bad genetic creepy things that have been wandering the family tree for a while, so it's not like raising a child I birthed myself would be issue-free. 

But no matter what - here's the important bit - an adoped child may seem different to me than a bio one, but not less, or "second best." I won't get to say "you have my grandmother's eyes," but big whoop.  She'll have her own grandmother's eyes and that's just as cool.  Would I rather I could have a baby for $7000, and get to be with her from her first heartbeat, as opposed to spending 2 or 3 times that much and missing out on her whole first year?  Yeah, sure.  But whatever path leads me to my baby, that's the right path.  And I say, screw the (supposedly) easy, simple, organic process of conception; hooray for the hard, expensive, scary path of adoption, because that, as it turns out, is how I roll.

Posted by alchemist at 12:12 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)