Let the madness begin

When we first started discussing home expansion, we were just messing around and we somehow came up with a number: LOTS

Then, we said, "Okay, let's really take this seriously and do a bit more serious math crunching and come up with a better guess." So, talking to a builder friend of ours and just do a bunch of handwaving with actual "facts" we came up with a new number: 2.0*LOTS

Then, we had the supervisor who did [Wifey]'s closet (I had built for her before she moved in) come and do a walkthrough and we went into much more detail. He spent about an hour and a half with us as he listened to what we wanted. It took about 30 minutes of arm twisting, but he totally guessed what it would take. He was very reluctant to give us a number, but we insisted because we had to know if we were insane. Turns out, we were. His estimation: 3.0*LOTS

Then, we hired an architect the superintendent recommended to do some initial drawings (for cheap) so we could get a better picture, based on actual drawings from a professional, what we wanted so he could give us a better guess. Okay, after some drawings from the architect: 4.5*LOTS

Still, we persisted!

Then, we hired the architect to do the FULL drawings on which a contract would be drawn against. And, the superintendent sent us out to do some shopping so we would know how much things would actually cost and why they would cost that much.

With the new, detailed drawings from the architect, he gave us a new number: 5.6*LOTS

Aye-Carumba!

We did some eliminations, the super got some alternative bids, we decided what we could and could not live with. Final number: 5.2*LOTS

Sigh.

Estimated to be 5 months of work, but we're assuming 6 months.

And here it begins.

Just add parents

I'm currently working on the photobook for our orphanage. I blogged about it a while back.

I'm one of those people who try to, when I complain about something, see if I can offer an alternative or an improvement to something I didn't like. In other words, put your money where your mouth is bub!

A few issues I had with the last photobook was:

• I wish I could have seen all the photopages.
• I wish there was more consistent recruitment of photobook submissions.
• It wasn't clear that the photobook actually got delivered.
• It took a while for the pictures of the orphanage nannies viewing the photobook to come back.
  

So, in mid-January I posted on our orphanage's Yahoo page an invitation for parents from our orphanage to submit photopages. Over a 4 week period, I picked up about 30 (or so) names of people/families wanting to participate.

Great!

Except, I and the families kinda farted around and forgot about it until recently. Err...

The deadline I gave them for submissions was June 1st. And of course, if you give someone 6 months, they won't get around to it unless they absolutely have to. I certainly didn't even start on my photobook page until the first page showed up last week. Then, a second page, then a third page, then I got off my duff and worked on my page.

I've scanned in the pages and posted them onto a password protected web page. But because of security & privacy concerns (heck I won't even post a picture of [the Girl] on my own blog), I can't let you (blog pals) see the pictures of the family photopages.

However, each page is just intriguing to me. In all the pages, the parents have included either the referral page or a picture taken shortly after Metcha Day so that the nannies at the orphanage can recognize the picture of the girls.

Whenever I see the referral pictures, whether in the photopages or any of those in a blog...and then I compare them to pictures of (their lives) now, I always think of the following words or phrases: compressed, expanded, full, family, busy, miles from home, blown up, blossom.

Yes! Blossom is the best word for what I think.

Whenever I see a referral photo, the child ususally isn't in a great mood. They've been plopped into some strange cutesy seat or rocker and the photographer is just trying to get them to look at the camera when the picture is taken (and with no tears!). Thus, the kids have this stunned or resigned look to their faces in the referrals.

In a way, that's where the word "compressed" comes from in my mind. You get this referral picture and the child looks...worried, pained, confused, unhappy? You think, of course my baby feels that way...but what does my baby really think? What is her personality? You don't know until you get her, a few days later she unfreezes, and then months later......she blossoms with a new life.

Yeah, I'm shelling out bucks putting together this photo album. But, in a selfish way, I get to see many, many examples where the frozen, dehydrated referral picture had "parents added to the photo" And then, this happy blossoming of a child is shown in the pictures the parents have submitted in their photopages.

You see them sledding in snow with other siblings.

You see them bouncing in a floatie in a pool.

You see them with aunts, uncles, grandparents.....a whole family set.

You see them going to a luau (wait, that would be us).

You see....a completely different life than a few of the orphanage photos they also include.

We do those photo pages to let the nannies know that every child they watch over has a potential and a chance once they get "out". We want to thank them for their efforts by showing the great progress that their kids have made.

And we want to show them how happy we are as parents. How they gave us a gift for those many months that we will only be able to thank them through photos.

When you get your referral, see if your orphanage (Yahoo) group has a photobook project. If not, volunteer, organize, be the courier.

And along the way, you will be the "just add parents".....like us.

Working without a net

One of the things I said to myself was that if I ever came back from my walkabout is that I would try to blog without a net.

What I mean by that is one of the reasons I almost chucked this whole blogging biz was that while I was working on a blog draft in my head, I was also (unfortunately) working on the disclaimers that had to accompany that posting:

Please, keep in mind that this only affects me.

I'm sorry if this offends you, please remember these are my thoughts, not yours.

Hey, you're my visitor, not my customers.

Okay, now you know that I don't mean it in a bad way.

I got so bummed that I felt I had to pre-defend myself in my thoughts, that I started thinking...."Is what I post really what I feel? Am I hiding something of my true self?" You know how...someone you thought you knew very well, starts blurting out things that just shock you because they happen to be mentally incapacitated (uhhh, drunk?).

[I know many of you have to censor yourself because you FOOLISHLY told your family about your blog - instead, you leave salty comments on other blogs!]

I remember [Wifey] saying that her grandfather, near the end of his life in a nursing home, and who was in and out of reality, would suddenly launch into these streams of racial epithets. They had NEVER heard him use those words. But obviously, deep in his subconcious, they existed.

So, I sometimes wonder if putting things that are meant to be in the "closet" of my mind onto the net was such a grand idea.

But then, I thought, well your eyes and your fingers had something to do with this....tumbling out of words, so it isn't an unconcious act.

Then why do I need to be pre-defensive?

Because no one likes to be hated. No one likes to be judged (oh, unless of course it's only in a positive light!). No one likes to be unpopular.

Okay, here's the plan. No more pre-apologies. With the flick of D-E-L-E-T-E I will smack away any snark. Yes, I will supress, quash, erase, exfoliate (that's not an accurate word, but it sounded nice) any snark, any negativity, any lecturing left in my comments. What? Not fair?

Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha.

But remember, deep inside.

I'm soft and mushy.

Meme

Okay, there's another new set of meme's going around. I got tagged by Tammy and then later by Stephanie, but I was going to write about this anyway (due to the previous round of meme's).

I actually have an interesting past experience with meme's, but at the time I didn't know they were called "meme's".

My story goes back to when I did software support for the Mega-lo-corp for two years. I did US and International support (all through electronic means).

We would get problem descriptions through an electronic database (written up by other Mega-lo-corp employees in each particular country) and I would have to deduce what the heck was going on with a computer.

I was always a good writer, but imagine spending two years doing this (doing debug through email). In essence, this is why I can churn out so many blog postings M-F (essentially a problem report and response is the size of my daily postings).

Anyway, just like in blog land, you start learning the personalities of the people on the "other end of the line". I had favorites in other countries, and in some instances I was their favorite in the US. We hit it off, in an electronic manner (hmmm, I wonder why this sounds familiar?). With certain people, I had put "voices" and mannerisms to their writing. (hmmm, I wonder why this sounds familiar?).

One particular gal though, from the UK, and I seemed to hit it off. Even buried within the text of problem description, questions back and forth, and then eventual problem resolution, we would insert pleasantries.* After all, if you're sitting in front of the computer screen all day long typing into a document and then sending it off somewhere in the world, you gotta have some sort of interaction with these people or you'll go bonkers.

And when this particular UK gal showed up to our site on some sort of junket she cooked up for herself, we REALLY got along. I remember we went to my favorite British Pub and we drank beer and just talked for 3 hours about anything and everything.

Well, at that point, we just ratcheted up the flirting to an obvious level. (and for full disclosure, this was something like 14 years ago)

You know, we exchanged some emails and some chats, but we fell into this interesting habit of sending each other lists of questions. Typically, the list would be 10-15 things we just thought up and would jot down. Then, we each would look expectantly in our email INBOX to see what question or what answers showed up. Some questions were mundane, and some were personal (I've since lost all email to this gal). Some examples might be:

1. When was your first serious kiss with the opposite sex?
2. Which is your favorite sibling?
3. What are your least favorite colors?
4. What is your favorite American/British food?

Anyway, along those lines. Some were more risque questions, I'm sure. But like I said, long gone emails.

Then one day, I asked her a question: "What is a secret that no one AT ALL knows?"

The answer she gave back to me stunned me. It was very personal (and I won't ever reveal it). But then, I revealed something to her that (at that time) was also very private because I felt I had made her very vulnerable.

After that answer, I sat back and thought about what had happened. Now, technically (because she told me), it was no longer a secret. Now, two people knew it. Did I cross the line in asking that question? No. She was an adult and could have said, "Well, if I tell you, then it won't be a secret." Then, she must have wanted to share it with me. Touching & troubling.

Things "progressed" and then I had to make the leap. I asked if I could come to London to see her, and she agreed.

The trip to London didn't turn out well. About two hours after she picked me up at the airport, we were sitting in her living room chatting, when her ex-boyfriend snuck up to her front door very quietly and slipped a birthday greeting card through the mail slot.

She kinda freaked out over that (sneaking up) and that it was from her ex (a few months removed).

Sometimes, I have incredible timing. And sometimes, it really, really sucks.

After that, things went downhill very quickly and she basically went into a shell. Oh well, you takes your chances sometimes.

But the interesting thing I learned from that trip was that what she said or how she answered the meme questions meant something completely different in person versus the written word. When she answered one of my questions, I would think, "Oh, ha-ha, yes clever." But when that same question was asked in person and answered, I realized, "Wow, she means something completely different than what I thought in the email."

That's why I've always wondered if "we would be friends in real life?". You see, we read these meme's and these posts and we assign a voice, we assign a face, and we assign an attitude to these words. But my experience was that in real life, that voice and that face may be very angry when answering those questions.

Something to ponder when zipping these little slices of life in blog posts and meme's.

Okay, my Six Odd Things About Me:

1. I dislike live artistic performances of ANY type (okay, the only exception is watching David Bowie from the 6th row). This is because of my years in high school drama and some summer jobs as a stage hand. I can not enjoy the actual performance, I'm always looking at the lights, the set, the blocking and figuring out who messed up. I like movies and CD's and DVD's because most of the mistakes have been cleaned up.
2. I thoroughly dislike phone conversations. I'd rather exchange long email with friends or talk to them in person. Conversations with my parents last about 3 minutes every two or three weeks. When a friend calls and wants to talk about something, I get ansty after about 5 minutes and try to find a way to end the phone call.
3. I get very emotionally attached to something I've had for a long time, even though it's old, busted, dirty, broken down. And, I just keep it around for years and years. I might keep something for 10 years before I finally throw it away. I still have all my college ID cards sitting in some drawer somewhere.
4. Sometimes, the only way I can fall asleep to is to start face-down. However, when I do that, part of my face has to be touching part of my hand or forearm. It's the back of my hand resting against my cheeks or my forehead or some part of my face. Or sometimes, I end up with no pillow and just my face resting on top of my hands that are one folded on top of the other. I think this goes back to my dorm room days when I had a very small bed and I didn't use a pillow for 3 years. So, I made my "hands" a crude pillow to rest my face until I fell asleep. No matter how hard I try not to touch my face my arms and hand automatically go towards my face.
5. I've worn another guy's clothes maybe twice in my entire life. It grosses me out to even think about wearing other people's clothes. Somehow, I think it's very unsanitary. The two times I did, I was desperate and had no choice in the matter.
6. My voice, when heard by me as I speak (in my head), sounds deeper than it is in real life. So, when I hear myself played back on video tape, I think that I have a: light, weak, girly voice. Of course, I despise hearing myself. But, it always makes me pause and think, "What a complete WIMP!" whenever I hear my own "real" voice.

There.

Now, I'm going to change this because.....as [the Girl] says, "Because I did."

I'm going to tag people and list their profession or general area they work in and ask them to create a 5 FAQ list for themselves.

For instance, I want to know from Sparky: Is it true that the majority of furniture factories in the U.S. are in Ohio and North Carolina? And, is it true that these factories have a common 3 week vacation schedule and when that occurs all furniture deliveries come to a screeching halt?

For instance, I want to know from Georgia: If I have something that needs to get somewhere absolutely in the fastest manner, does it matter if I: a) send it via my home mailbox b) drop it off at a big mail box that they usually have parked around office buildings c) go to the post office and drop it in the "mail for out of town" slot?

These are examples. I want you to think of 5 things that people typically don't know about your profession OR some questions people have asked you that you thought, "Well, no one has ever asked me that question, but I'm sure it's something many people think about".

So, I'm basing my tagging on your occupation (or at least my best guess as to your occupation):

Sparky (Furniture sales)
Georgia (Postal Service)
Kikalee (Graphic Arts)
Jacquie (Education)
Figlet (Travel)

I had some other people I wanted to tag, but ummmm, I don't know what they do in real life.

And, blah-blah-blah, pass it on if you want, blah-blah-blah.

*One particular gal, I can't remember if her name was Tasmin or Tamsin (shrug) had a funny quote in the problem report, "Well, customer thinks I'm a bimb0. Well, maybe he's right."

Also, I once put such a sarcastic reply in a problem report that a supervisor had to go into the database and scrub my comments. That is an extremely rare event. I know I make Ma proud every day!

The same coin

"The reverse side also has a reverse side"
Japanese Proverb

This is apropriate for some stuff I'm been reading lately and how it's made me feel. Because of the NY Times article concerning adoption, which I found fairly decent, it's caused a lot of stirred up feelings and postings to come up to the surface.

Specifically, there have been pro and con sides to issues concerning adoption from adoptive Korean kids. And by "kids" I mean those in their 20's. Remember how I wrote about "A generation of..."? This is the generation of adoptive Korean kids, now in their mid-to-late 20's who have a voice in their adoption.

I've seen one adoptive child write about how she thinks international adoption should be severely clamped down. She gets me down. I totally disagree with her. But by the same token, how can I say that she is wrong when SHE is the one who is adopted? Wouldn't she know better than me?

Then, on the reverse side is an adopted Korean woman who says that her adoption (and subsequent rearing in whitebread America) was the best gift she could have ever gotten. Hooray for the girl who writes what I hope our daughter to feel 15 years from now!

Of course everything she writes is brilliant and on the spot. Because, it's what I want.

We certainly didn't go into adoption thinking, "I'm saving a heathen from a life of Oliver Twist". We wanted a kid. And then, there's this guilt THRUST upon you...am I tearing her away from her race? For me, there was absolutely no guilt in that since I'm....uhhh...yellow like my little sweetie. [Wifey] had no qualms because she just sees one color. After all, she married me didn't she?

But, I do realize that for those white-white couples such as yourselves (the reader) this is and has been a concern.

I've seen:

1. Adopted kids never interested in finding biological relations.
2. Adopted kids anguished and needing to find biological relations.
3. Biological parents anguishing over finding their biological children.
4. Biological parents not wanting ANY contact with the kids they gave up.

So basically, the whole gamut. Deep in our hearts. Wait, I don't speak for you. Deep in MY heart, I want us to be [1] and [4].

This post started off as me thinking that in the blogsphere, heck in life, you can find someone with whom you will totally disagree or totally agree with their point of view.

We try to find a way to discount those we disagree with; i.e. First, I'd like to point out that they are a POOP HEAD!

And, we want to hug those (tightly) that we agree with;

Gotta be careful of hating or embracing either side too closely as they are both sides of the same coin.

I've got a saying that I say to myself or people when they talk about how something turned out for them:

What I want and what I got are two separate things.

I'm not going to assume (glass half empty) that I'm ruining [the Girl]'s life by adopting her. I love that little kiddo so much. Sometimes, I have to shake my head as I think about mundane things like, "I wonder if she'll have bad zits just like me?" And then catch myself and remind myself that she didn't come from me and my genetics.

I'm going to assume (glass half full) that [the Girl] will forget (in every day thinking) that she's adopted and have to have those "head shaking moments" like I do and explicitly remember she's adopted.

I can't tell what the future will be. Maybe it will be all of the above ([1] and [2] and [3] and [4]). Everyone is different AND at different times.

I hope I can remember there's always another side to something I so dearly believe in.

Mars & Venus

Last year, [Wifey] and I had this talk

The girls and I are getting a group together at work. We're going to walk during lunchtime.

Unh-hunh

Yeah, instead of eating or lunches, we'll exercise together and all get more fit.

You're going to lose weight walking around during lunch?

I didn't say lose weight, I'm saying that we're going to get more fit.

Hunh. And how many of there are you?

[counting, counting, counting] Ummm, about 8. One of the gals has to man the front desk, so we'll have a rotating system.

Righhhht

What?

There is no way this is going to happen.

What?

It's too complex and the moment one of you can't make it, it'll fizzle out.

Well, you're being too negative. The beauty of this plan is that we pressure each other into showing up.

Yeah, right.

Whatever!

So, the very first official walk they had, all the planned participants showed up. Then, I kept asking [Wifey] how each week went (they were supposed to TRY to walk twice a week).

One time, one of the gals had to help out the girl manning the desk at lunchtime. So, they couldn't go because it wouldn't be fair to the girl who couldn't go.

One time, two people in the walk group got called out to site emergencies. So, the group held off their walking in respect for the two missing walkers.

One time, oops, they were so busy no one was around to organize the walkers.

One time, well, it was really hot.

I really hate being Mr. Negative, but I had it pegged from day one.

This is a recounting of me and my friend H while in college. I was getting up at 6:00 in the morning to swim laps at the school pool, which was right across the street from our dorms. So, my friend H asked me to call him each morning I was going swimming. I was a bit...skeptical, but okay, I did call him each morning.

He went with me for about 2 weeks, then he begged off one morning because he'd been up all night at the studio (architecture major). Then, the next morning he was too sleepy.

Then after the second "I'm too sleepy" cancellation, I quit calling him.

I just went swimming by myself. Screw him, I'm not his valet.

A few months later, the boys were out for Sunday dinner (dorms didn't serve Sunday dinner). My friend H says, "Hey Johnny, we ever going to get back to our swimming plan? Why don't you call me buddy?" I just looked at him and I swear it just blurted out of me, "Well, I would if you wouldn't keep quitting on me."

H's face was crestfallen. I just verbally slapped him in front of the boys.

My friend W laughed and said out loud, "Johnny, the reason I like you so much is you say what's exactly on your mind."

I wasn't planning on humiliating H in public, but I dragged my ass up at 6:00 in the morning AND I had to call a sleepy guy who quit on me. I had better things to do with my time than be a human snooze button.

That comes down to my take on men and women.

Women are "go-team-go" and "we're in this together". They want to work towards a common goal. They want it to be a team effort where everyone wins!*

Guys? They're more into: "My [male organ] is bigger than your [male organ]" and "screw you, I'm outta here."

[Wifey] has since repeated these group-events-which-fizzle-out with her co-workers.

A plan to walk a high school track after work? 3 times, then it got too cold and no one could make it.

A plan to bring old clothes for a clothes exchange for charity? One time, then no one wanted to show their ugly, old clothes in public.

Is it something ingrained into little girls that they must get along and that boys must dominate each other?

Maybe.

*There was a episode of "King of the Hill" (which does really mirror Texans) in which Bobby's soccer team came in second at a tournament. But at the end of the tournament, the winners and all the losers got ribbons. As the granola soccer coach explained to Hank, "There are no losers, we're all WINNERS! Yea!" Hank almost puked at that.

Soccer Mom-ster

A few years ago, the national news channels were all on the common warpath (in their stories) about kids being overextended. This was the story of the month where they hammered this subject to death.

I kept thinking:

Well, it's their (the family's) fault for overextending themselves.

AND

Wait, will I be one of those families one day without realizing it?

By watching "The Wiggles" [Wifey] is convinced that [the Girl] loves dance. So being a good Mom, she signed her up for toddler's "dance", which I have absolutely no idea what that entails. I'm not really sure [Wifey] can even tell me (and she's actually watched the one hour sessions).

Okay, well, there's Part 1 of a potential over-extension.

Then, for the summer season coming up, [Wifey] wants to sign [the Girl] up for swimming classes. Well, I know that [the Girl] has never been a big fan of pools of water. She'll get in, but she'll be very nervous and not happy to be there. Oh, but [the Girl] needs to be prepared in case we get asked over to my realtor's pool this summer.

Part 2 of a potential over-extension.

Then, because it's been ice skating season on TV and the recent Olympics, [the Girl] has been facinated/obsessed with figure skating. [Wifey] finds out (or is reminded cause I KNOW I told her) that I know how to ice skate. Great, [Wifey] starts asking me as to which weekend we're going to the ice rink. I ask her...."What for?" She says, "So you can start teaching [the Girl] how to ice skate."

Whoa, timeout here. I know how to ice skate cause I taught myself after several years of clutching to the sides of an ice rink in Houston. I didn't say I ENJOYED it.

Oh. [Wifey]'s face falls.

Okay, she's going to look into signing up [the Girl] for ice skating lessons.

Part 3 of a potential over-extension.

And then, she's talking about signing up for ski lessons if/when we go skiing next winter.

What?

[Wifey] can't ski. I can ski very well....however I've had to give it up because I've had foot/boot problems and haven't found a boot or bootfitter to make the problem go away.

Momma, who doesn't know how to ski, is going to drag her child up the mountain and thrust her into ski class?

Part 4 of a potential over-extension.

On one hand, I can appreciate and really feel great that [Wifey] is looking out for her girl. She wants to give her every opportunity to enjoy something that she's interested in. Or in this case, what she seems interested in.

On the other hand, I just wonder how much input a three year old can take? I try not to say, "Well, I never did that at her age, so it's way too early" because I don't want to be one of those parents limiting their kid's potential (and fun).

But, the "common sense" meter in my head is saying OVERLOAD.

You guys grab [Wifey]'s feet, I'll grab her arms, and maybe we can hold [Wifey] down until [the Girl] gets to the age of 5 without becoming a dancing-swimmer-ice-skating-skier.

Pointing the plane down

That's the phrase I use when I see people I know or like making what I think is a bad, bad, bad decision.

This stems from a very special summer my junior year in college. I was going to summer school to take a very difficult course that the juniors and seniors above me had told me was a flunk-out course, one that made you or broke you in electrical engineering.

So, we were put up in a coed dorm, that was usually the all-women's dorm during the regular school year. The guys and gals were segregated by floors. The only exception (which I still haven't figured out why they did this) was the first floor, where I had my room. The front half of the floor were women and the back half of the hallway were men.

My roommate was a guy who I had known the previous two years in my "regular" dorm and we had agreed to be roommates.

I had no idea how sleazy of a roommate he would turn out to be.

On the guy's side of the floor were a mix of freshmen, some sophomores, and some juniors (like myself and my roommate). On the girl's side of the floor were ALL freshmen girls. And to top it off, about two-thirds of them were sco-pro girls. Sco-Pro means scholastic probationary girls. They had to go to summer school and average a C grade point to be admitted into regular school in the fall.

To be frank, the reason these girls were sco-pro was that they partied very hard in high school.

Oh, we had some fun together that summer.

But, back to my roommate. He had many sleazy attributes I never realized. Let me cut to the chase: He was good looking. He was suave. He was the rich, pampered son of an oil executive. He was the ultimate ladies man (which I hadn't considered because he was majoring in Mechanical Engineering). I later learned that he was a big cheat and cheated his way through his freshman and sophomore years.

Anyhoo, that's not even the point of this story.

The point is that he had a very nice girlfriend on the third floor that he'd been dating for 2 years. And then, one day.....he tells me that he's been sleeping with the girlfriend (highschool sweethearts!) of the freshman guy across the hall from us. He was so proud of the fact that he could be smiling at this guy across the hall from us and finding new places on campus where he and this guy's girlfriend could have sex.

Yeah, pathetic.

And then, there were a few freshmen girls (on the same floor as the girl he was cheating with) who had crushes on him (I told ya, he was suave).

One of them, her name was Robin, and her roommate both had crushes on my roommate. (Did I mention he was goodlooking AND rich?) Robin was my drinking buddy. She was there because she graduated with honors from high school and wanted to get started on college. And, she thought my roommate was a real great guy. Ahem.

During one of my drinking sessions (whilst very drunk), I mumbled the words, "Listen, you want to stay away from [roommate]. He's not a very nice guy. You don't really want to get involved with him."

I think I stayed within the "guy code". The guy code wouldn't allow me to tell her, "Listen, he's got a girlfriend Jan on the third floor and he's cheating with Melissa on your floor." The guy code (even when drunk) says I can say, "Just stay away, please."

So, what does she do? She goes to my roommate and says, "I don't understand why Johnny is telling me to stay away from you. Are things okay between you guys?"

Sigh. Why is it that women have to FRICKIN try to "fix" things! Oh wait, I think I have a blog posting about that coming up.

Later in the week, he called me on it. A guy will take on another guy and find out what's going on, rather than hold it in. It was mano-a-mano time in the dorm room. Well, he had ever right to be mad at me. I had to apologize and say that I was totally in the wrong and violated a "trust". (Oh, it made for a tense rest of the summer living together)

That taught me a lesson I've tried to stick by:

If a person is doing the totally wrong thing, just let them go. Let them "point the plane down" and take their chances. They wouldn't believe you even if you swore it was in their best interests. They will think YOU are nuts.

About 6 months later, Robin and I were getting tipsy drunk. She started recounting what a scoundrel my ex-roommate was. And then, she started crying when she remembered how I tried to warn her away - that she betrayed me by going to him with what I warned her about.

I told her that it was no big deal. All was forgiven.

I'd learned my lesson.

Walkabout

"We were on a break! We were on a break!"
Ross Geller, "Friends"

If you're reading this post, it means that I'm back from my "walkabout".

I originally planned to end my blogging adventures one month after our return from A2. However, things just caught up to me and suddenly, on a Saturday night, something told me to hit the Delete Blog button.

However, first I tried to follow the Blogspot instructions to compress all my postings into one file so I could save it. Well, I pretty much munged that up pretty badly. Since I knew I was eventually going to close up shop (one day), I'd been archiving my singular posts.

Oh well, I was going to walk away from blogging and what a way to go hunh? Then about two hours later, I started regretting it. Actually, about 1 hour after I did so, some people started sending emails. I guess they were worried I had gone off the deep end or something "bad" had happened. To all you folks, thanks. It means a lot to me that you took the time to send me email (more on that later). Well, I really didn't know if I was coming back.

So, I decided to work my way back by restoring my old postings. I did have copies of my posts, but they required me to hand-copy each one of them up onto blogspot. I did so because...well, you can't understand why I am here, unless you've read some of where I came from (uhhh, that is if I decided to come back). That's why you would see groups of 5 old posts all of a sudden just reappear. I had to copy the text literally from one web browser to another and then upload the pictures (what a frickin pain in the butt). That effort, in itself, almost made me pull the plug again!

But why the mysterious disappearance? As mentioned many people wrote to me very concerned. No problems with the family. No problems with the kiddo. No problems with the job (well - hmmmm, other than I hate my particular job). Just a handful of minor things added up to the urge that I needed to walk away from the blog for a while.

Writer's Block
What started this downhill spiral was the fact that I couldn't get ONE post written to my satisfaction. I went through about 5 revisions and couldn't get it right, yet I felt it was very important. I also felt this odd [self-imposed] pressure to get it out by Monday*. Then, I needed something for Tuesday and then Wednesday...... Now, let me put this out there that this is self-imposed pressure. I pride myself on being dependable. Monday-through-Friday, I had to have something each day. I decided I was heaping too much pressure on myself. I started blogging as a way to get some stuff off my chest. I did accomplish that, but then, I added a completely new pressure to myself. Of my own doing. Sigh.

Distracting from being Daddy
Before the blog world, I would get into these game ruts. I would purchase some computer game and have to play it from beginning to end. Sometimes to finish a game took 3 weeks, sometimes 3 months. I would just be totally obsessed about finishing the game. And, this is where blogging has taken over. I've been bothered recently by [the Girl] coming home and looking up towards our "old study" saying, "Daddy please come down". Once I came home from work, I would head towards the study and work on blog drafts. I started wondering how much Daddy I was being for my little girl.

Now, you might ask....uhh, aren't you typing this posting? Aren't you taking away from your child's time? No. During walkabout, I'm telling myself to only blog when she's in bed. While she's awake and about the house, I'm not going to blog. If/when she needs me, I'll be there. When she's in bed, then I'll blog. One of the key points here is that I have no "Monday deadline" and I can start and stop at my leisure.

I've also tried to be sitting on the couch waiting for her when she comes in the house from the garage. Of course, I might have a glass of w(h)ine in my hand, but the point is I'm trying to make the effort to spend more time with my girl.

I don't want life to turn out to be "Cat's Cradle" from Harry Chapin.

Salt in the wound
It's been increasingly tough for me to write about [the Girl] and our family whilst reading the pain and suffering of those who are waiting for their referrals. No one has written me with any bitter comments about anything I've put down. However, it's hard to write stories of happiness that we experience as I know it stings the hearts of the friends I've made. They tell me that they want to read about it, but some of their heartfelt comments about how that joy (of mine I put down in a posting) makes their hearts ache even more for their child....I feel that ache also.

I think there was wave of bummed out bloggers and it just hit me that week. Just as I read about you waiting parents who can't bear to walk by the baby's room because it's just so painful. I started thinking about if my daily postings would fall into that category.

Here, let me tell you again about how much of a shining light [the Girl] is in our lives. Oh, ummm, you're still waiting? Ooopsie?


Farting around
This blogging thing has me really slacking in my house duties. The other night, [Wifey] asked me if I'd like to start packing the pantry (to get ready for the expansion). Ummm, no, don't feel like it (I have to work on a post). She asked me if I'd like to finish up packing part of the kitchen. Ummm, no I've got something to do (work on a post or read blogs). She asked me if I'd like to finish packing the original study so we could move our bedroom there. Ummm, no...I have some stuff to take care of (blogging). So, I've been a real non-partner in our housework. I needed to stop posting until after our house is all torn up and all my duties are done.

Too many ideas, not enough action
At one point, I had something like 35+ draft titles. What that means is I would think of something I need to write a post about, jot down some clever title and then "get to it later". And then, when I saw this big, long list of things to blog about, it became...demoralizing. I just couldn't find the enthusiasm to write about any one thing, and yet I knew it existed because I had an empty draft (but with a clever title!) to show for it. I scrapped EVERYTHING.

Apologies in advance
I was working out a post in my head that had nothing to do with adoption. It had to do with the differences in the sexes. And while I was writing the post, I had to think and insert all these "I'm sorry if this offends you" or "Please note that this doesn't mean you" disclaimers in the mental writing I was doing! I'm apologizing to imaginary critics for an imaginary post in my head! I've always tried to emphasis how I think each person's blog is there business. And yet, I read of groups on one side of an issue taking a person's blog and using that as ammo in a war of rage. I had to walk away to rebuild the confidence in myself - that I didn't have to apologize for putting down my own opinion and thoughts (in my own freakin blog for Chrissakes!)

It's all about Cher
Maybe....walking away was about being a Drama Queen and seeing how many people cared that I was gone. I thought of this as people were sending me emails inquiring as to if things were going well. I've always thought that curtain calls were pathetic. I think the initial applause is enough. But maybe...the ego is what it is and needs the "stroke". You gotta admit you had to google that quote to see what the hell it was about. I've always that a lot about that one statement by the British explorer. Fatalistic, yet gallant. Symbolic, but too late. Maybe....that's me.

Pendulum
When I first pulled the plug, I immediately regretted it. And then, something happened. I started writing and writing and writing. Without that silly self-imposed deadline, I wrote without concern. I wrote without warnings. And most importantly, I wrote without checking my spelling! After all, if I didn't have any readers, who cared about the spelling! And then, Stephanie queried me and asked if I was done farting around. And you know what I told her? I said that I did want to come back right off the bat. But a few weeks later, I really didn't care about coming back....and that felt very uplifting. But, then I was going to wait a few more weeks later to see where my changing feelings finally settled.

So.

If you see this post, it means I'm BACK**.

I've got a completely new set of rules for myself.

I've been doing a lot of thinking and writing. In fact, I just might do a lot of more of this. i.e. In the future, I might just stop posting for two or three weeks and write freely with no time or mental constraints.

*How many of you post M-F? It's a lot of work to have something for every day. The only other person I can think of is Karen.

**[early for Sparky***]

***[And some of you - Ahem - owe me pimp pictures]

April 15th

[Scrubbed Comments]

Eliza2006 said...

Welcome back!

Tiffany

10:23 PM

Kate said...

Happy birthday, [the Girl]! And welcome back, Johnny!

10:27 PM

Sparky said...

Is this real time? Is that a cake? Yumm! Happy birthday little one and welcome back my friend.

10:40 PM

Panotchr said...

Happy Birthday, [the Girl], from North Carolina!

11:35 PM

Jenny said...

( Gasp, Shudder, is it a photo of kidlet #1?) Happy Birthday [the Girl]! I love the Elmo doll. Hope it was a grand and glorious day.
Jenny V

2:12 AM

Scott and Karen said...

Happy Birthday [the Girl]! We all should've known that our pleading wouldn't bring your Daddy back -- it just took a very adorable little girl clutching Elmo and eyeing her birthday cake and loot to do it.

(Nice to see you in real time, J.)

~Karen

5:29 AM

~ Alison & Mali ~ said...

Aw - Happy Birthday, [the Girl]! & WB Johnny. It just wasn't the same w/out u . . .

6:32 AM

Miss Cellania said...

Happy Birthday! Three is a glorious year. Thanks for posting this, Johnny.

7:02 AM

Lisa & Jeff said...

Sending big Birthday wishes to [the Girl]! Glad to see your back Johnny!

7:21 AM

Kikilia said...

Welcome back!

&

Happy Birthday!

Kikilia

7:45 AM

Jacquie said...

Holy s*$t!!! You're back! And with cake. Oh happy day!

Happy Birthday [the Girl]!

8:09 AM

Holly said...

HAPPY HAPPY BIRTHDAY, [THE GIRL]!!!
She is precious~
Hope your family is having a great Easter!

11:42 AM

L. said...

Awwww....

Happy, happy!

5:30 PM

Tammy said...

Happy birthday [the Girl]!

Johnny - Great to see you bloggin' again.

Congrats on being DTC for #2.

Tammy

6:32 PM

Shana said...

Happy Happy 3rd Birthday, beautiful [the Girl]! Hope you had lots of fun at your party in the park! 3 is such a fun year- enjoy!

xoxo,
Shana :)

9:47 PM

Karen and Jon said...

Happy Happy Birthday [the Girl]!!!

10:32 PM

Perrin said...

Oh please tell Miss [the Girl] Happy Birthday! Big Three. How exciting.

P.S. Welcome back.

9:16 AM

Julie said...

Happy B-Day, [the Girl]--and nice to see something from you, Johnny!

9:47 AM

Lauri said...

Happy Birthday [the Girl]- Age 3 is an excellent age to be

10:30 AM

Kim said...

Happy birthday to [the Girl]!

Nice to see you, J.

10:46 AM

Stephanie said...

WOW, so glad to see you back. Happy 3rd birthday to your daughter!

1:31 PM

Kristin said...

hey... you're back! happy birthday to you [the Girl]... 3 is going to be an exciting year!

7:26 PM

Carrie said...

Happy Birthday [the Girl]!!!!

Welcome Back!!!!

7:37 PM

Georgia and Jeff said...

I still check your blog from time to time. I even enjoyed the re-runs. Glad to hear from you again.

9:02 PM

Karyn said...

Happy Birthday to [the Girl]!

Welcome back to Johnny!

9:45 PM

Aimee said...

Love that Elmo is part of the action!

10:11 PM

Stephanie V said...

Johnny, my buddy-my pal, so glad you're back. Can't wait to hear the new stuff!

Give [the Girl] big smooches for me!

10:25 PM

Sparky said...

Ahem! It's Tuesday. I'm ready for a new live post please. PLEEEEAAAASE!!!!

9:23 AM

Space Mom said...

Happy Birthday [the Girl]!!!!

10:33 AM

Bridget said...

Happy third birthday! yeehaw!

2:25 PM

One Lucky Mom said...

Welcome back and Happy Birthday, [the Girl]!

5:26 PM

Figlet said...

You're back! This is good. Very good. And I'm not sure why but this pic makes me teary.

9:28 PM

Susan said...

Happy Birthday [the Girl]! Welcome back Johnny! I hope it was a happy day for her (and you guys, too)

Now, to catch up on the rest of the posts..

Susan