I found this cool button on Catnap40's blog. You can't say that 10 Cents a Word isn't educational.
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Rebuttal
Every once in a while, a comment merits further intra-blog follow-up. I feel I must respond to Adam's comment on the hockey post. Adam is my younger brother who never grew out of being a pest. Here's what he wrote, with my responses.
"Good for you for trying things you'd normally not enjoy. Now you just need to try these things a few more times and you won't be afraid of anything: Now wait just a second. Who said I was afraid? Just because I don't like something doesn't mean I'm a scaredy cat.
Ketchup: Ketchup is nothing more than a chemistry mistake that never got corrected. The mere smell of it makes me want to gag. Why on earth would I ever put something that unnatural in my mouth?
Throwing Keys: I am against the throwing of all sharp, pointy, metal objects, including nails, forks, scissors and, yes, keys. I don't like shrapnel, either. So what?
24: You have me confused with someone else. I love me some Jack Bauer. At least, I did until he became a little wah-wah baby who stares misty-eyed at the ocean. I will start watching 24 again when JB finds his cajones.
Okra: Lots of people don't like okra. Considering I eat every other vegetable, I think my distaste for okra is allowable.
Cheeseburgers that are not plain and dry: See my opinion on ketchup. Same thing goes for mustard, mayonnaise and pickles. Hence my take on cheeseburgers.
Skinny hugs: Adam, you don't like skinny hugs either. You have felt the bone-on-bone collision that occurs when you hug a fellow hundred-pounder. It's more like two pieces of flint being knocked together than an expression of affection.
Bacon(are you the one that has a thing about bacon?) I don't think so. I prefer to eat bacon on top of something else, like a salad or sandwich. But I did consume two independent pieces of bacon just yesterday morning, so I guess that makes me normal.
Sushi: I am ambivalent about sushi. I don't understand why sushi-lovers always feel the need to proselytize me. It only makes me want to eat it less.
Playing a sport: I have no defense here. All I can say is that I choose not to play sports out of respect for those who do. I'm sure every teammate I ever played with in P.E. class would say that they would have been better off without me.
The following Christmas songs:
Carol of the Bells
Feliz Navidad
Thanks a lot for reminding me about those songs. Now I have them both stuck in my head. Would someone please throw some keys at me and put me out of my misery?
"Good for you for trying things you'd normally not enjoy. Now you just need to try these things a few more times and you won't be afraid of anything: Now wait just a second. Who said I was afraid? Just because I don't like something doesn't mean I'm a scaredy cat.
Ketchup: Ketchup is nothing more than a chemistry mistake that never got corrected. The mere smell of it makes me want to gag. Why on earth would I ever put something that unnatural in my mouth?
Throwing Keys: I am against the throwing of all sharp, pointy, metal objects, including nails, forks, scissors and, yes, keys. I don't like shrapnel, either. So what?
24: You have me confused with someone else. I love me some Jack Bauer. At least, I did until he became a little wah-wah baby who stares misty-eyed at the ocean. I will start watching 24 again when JB finds his cajones.
Okra: Lots of people don't like okra. Considering I eat every other vegetable, I think my distaste for okra is allowable.
Cheeseburgers that are not plain and dry: See my opinion on ketchup. Same thing goes for mustard, mayonnaise and pickles. Hence my take on cheeseburgers.
Skinny hugs: Adam, you don't like skinny hugs either. You have felt the bone-on-bone collision that occurs when you hug a fellow hundred-pounder. It's more like two pieces of flint being knocked together than an expression of affection.
Bacon(are you the one that has a thing about bacon?) I don't think so. I prefer to eat bacon on top of something else, like a salad or sandwich. But I did consume two independent pieces of bacon just yesterday morning, so I guess that makes me normal.
Sushi: I am ambivalent about sushi. I don't understand why sushi-lovers always feel the need to proselytize me. It only makes me want to eat it less.
Playing a sport: I have no defense here. All I can say is that I choose not to play sports out of respect for those who do. I'm sure every teammate I ever played with in P.E. class would say that they would have been better off without me.
The following Christmas songs:
Carol of the Bells
Feliz Navidad
Thanks a lot for reminding me about those songs. Now I have them both stuck in my head. Would someone please throw some keys at me and put me out of my misery?
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Ms. Nola Brinton
Someday I will look back on this time in my life and wonder how I did it. I will wonder how I woke up and got out of bed every day without Vivine, not knowing when or if she would be mine, not knowing whether she was sad or happy or tired or sick on any given day. Then I will remember people like Nola Brinton.
I have never met Nola Brinton. My mother-in-law Kris, who lives in St. Joseph, Mo., does Ms. Brinton's hair every week. A few months ago, my mother-in-law showed Ms. Brinton a picture of Vivine. She told her about our adoption and the lengthy process we must endure. I don't know what, but something made Ms. Brinton care deeply about Chad, Vivine and me. She started asking about Vivine so much that my mother-in-law gave her a picture of Vivine to keep. Then we got this letter in the mail:
Dear Chad and Lynde,
Congratulations on the privilege of adopting this precious little girl. I am looking at her picture and thank you for the pictures. She looks to be a happy and healthy little person and I can imagine how thrilled you are.
We hope time flies and she will be here as soon as possible. We are pleased to know that all the precautions are being taken for her safety, etc.
From what Kris tells me she will be coming into a wonderful home.
My prayers are with Vivine and her parents-to-be.
Love and Best Wishes,
Nola Brinton
P.S. Please forgive the paper and writing. I am 89 years old and (it is) difficult to write.
Who am I to merit the prayers and love of Ms. Nola Brinton? I imagine she has cares and concerns enough at 89-years-old without giving any thought to Chad and me. When I am 89, I will encourage someone the way she has encouraged me. I will listen for a story of a young woman who has chosen a difficult path, and I will write her a letter bestowing grace on her in the first-person plural.
Maybe when I look back on this time someday, I won't wonder at all how I made it. I'll know that I made it because of the strength I received from the prayers of Nola Brinton, and all the others like her.
Friday, February 22, 2008
Fun v. Funny
I have, on occasion, been accused of not being that much fun. The accusation usually results from a discovery by PC that I hate something beloved by 98 percent of the world. Beer. All-you-can-eat buffets. Butterflies. (They are insects, people! Get over it!) Still, in effort to be a better person, I have resolved to try something three times before I decide to hate it. (This is a huge departure from my previous philosophy of, "If I was going to like it, I would have tried it by now.") This new resolve led me to the St. Louis Blues hockey game on Tuesday night.
Let me be clear. I am not saying that hockey is bad (or beer or butterflies for that matter). It is just bad to me. I need sports that give me time to think about what's happening. Hockey is so fast that it always startles me when a goal is scored. Part of the problem is I can never spot the puck on the rink. It's like a cruel game of "Where's Waldo?" to me. I sit there clutching my knitting needles white-knuckled, furiously scanning the ice and trying to prepare for that moment when the air horn will explode in a deafening burst and the people around me will launch out of their chairs, sending nachos and beer flying in all directions. It always happens when I'm looking for the puck at the other end of the rink. When the commotion dies down, I feel like I was just in a car accident.
When PC and I left the Blues game Tuesday night, I had total hockey PTSD. I apologetically tried to explain why I just didn't have very much fun. The best I could come up with at the time was, "It's probably what you would feel like if you went to the ballet." That could be true, if the guy sitting next to you at the ballet sporadically punched you in the stomach during the show.
Tuesday night was my fourth professional hockey game, and I think it's safe to say I'm over it. If I had remembered that I had already been to three games in my life, I probably wouldn't have gone to the one on Tuesday. But I was trying to "Be Fun." I should have remembered what Popeye said: "I yam what I yam and that's all that I yam." Hey, I might not be fun, but at least I am funny.
Let me be clear. I am not saying that hockey is bad (or beer or butterflies for that matter). It is just bad to me. I need sports that give me time to think about what's happening. Hockey is so fast that it always startles me when a goal is scored. Part of the problem is I can never spot the puck on the rink. It's like a cruel game of "Where's Waldo?" to me. I sit there clutching my knitting needles white-knuckled, furiously scanning the ice and trying to prepare for that moment when the air horn will explode in a deafening burst and the people around me will launch out of their chairs, sending nachos and beer flying in all directions. It always happens when I'm looking for the puck at the other end of the rink. When the commotion dies down, I feel like I was just in a car accident.
When PC and I left the Blues game Tuesday night, I had total hockey PTSD. I apologetically tried to explain why I just didn't have very much fun. The best I could come up with at the time was, "It's probably what you would feel like if you went to the ballet." That could be true, if the guy sitting next to you at the ballet sporadically punched you in the stomach during the show.
Tuesday night was my fourth professional hockey game, and I think it's safe to say I'm over it. If I had remembered that I had already been to three games in my life, I probably wouldn't have gone to the one on Tuesday. But I was trying to "Be Fun." I should have remembered what Popeye said: "I yam what I yam and that's all that I yam." Hey, I might not be fun, but at least I am funny.
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Soapfest: The Final Chapter
Where HAVE I been the last week? Would you believe me if I said I spent all that time counting soap? OK, I did a few other things, too. But the final soap count did drag on like the last part of a J.R.R. Tolkien novel. Just when I thought I had things wrapped up, I'd find some unaccounted-for soaps.
Gandalf sez: "The collecting of soaps is over, but the time to count them has just begun"
In the end, I got 1,365 items. My original goal was 500, so I am quite pleased with the Soapfest haul. I only bought maybe 50 of those myself. The rest came from these blog readers (in the order in which I remember them):
The soap you donated will be assembled into individual hygiene kits and shipped to Haiti in the spring. The staff of House of Hope will give the kits to the children who live there, the kids who live in the neighborhood and, most importantly, their parents, who often do without things like soap so that they can feed their families. Think about it: "If I go buy some soap, then I can wash up and go apply for a job today, or maybe go to church. But there won't be any money left to eat dinner tonight." That's what it's like in Haiti.
If you want to continue to help House of Hope, you can read their list of needs on their Web site. I will probably have another Soapfest this summer, but not before I get much more organized. Until then, think of Haiti and say a prayer every time you shower, brush your teeth or wash your hands.
Gandalf sez: "The collecting of soaps is over, but the time to count them has just begun"
In the end, I got 1,365 items. My original goal was 500, so I am quite pleased with the Soapfest haul. I only bought maybe 50 of those myself. The rest came from these blog readers (in the order in which I remember them):
Bonnie and JohnOh, man, I feel like I'm forgetting a bunch of people! Please speak up if I left you out, and don't take it personally.
Lucy G.
Kris and Jeff
Kris's clients at the beauty shop
Kris's friends from church
Mary T.
Tracy H.
Jaime McK.
Melissa W.
Kelly and John
Julie G.
Dad, Kerry and Peapod
Mom and Blake
Jenni and James
Mrs. M's third-grade class at Lindbergh Elementary (plus some of the Lindbergh staff)
Shane the piano man
Various people at Hope Lutheran who left soap anonymously on PC's desk
Jason's Clan
The soap you donated will be assembled into individual hygiene kits and shipped to Haiti in the spring. The staff of House of Hope will give the kits to the children who live there, the kids who live in the neighborhood and, most importantly, their parents, who often do without things like soap so that they can feed their families. Think about it: "If I go buy some soap, then I can wash up and go apply for a job today, or maybe go to church. But there won't be any money left to eat dinner tonight." That's what it's like in Haiti.
If you want to continue to help House of Hope, you can read their list of needs on their Web site. I will probably have another Soapfest this summer, but not before I get much more organized. Until then, think of Haiti and say a prayer every time you shower, brush your teeth or wash your hands.
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Love letters
From the Soapfest archives
What a Soapfest this has been! Getting involved in the ministry of House of Hope has shown me just how easy it really is to help people in need. The times I have said, "I can do that!" far outnumber the times I have asked, "What can I do?" I hope those of you who participated in Soapfest feel the same way.
To prove my point, I want to share some of the letters I received today from a few of Mrs. M's third graders at Lindbergh Elementary in St. Joseph, Mo. These children are exactly the same age as many of the girls who live at House of Hope. Here's what they wrote:
I wanted to Donate soap because I wanted to help out Vivne and all her friends. I got them Just for them there brannew! I though I would help out My mom bough them at Sally's I think.Love, Alexus
to: Lynde and Chad
Feb. 11, 2008Dear Lynde and Chad,
I didn't donate Soap because I forgot to bring some soap that's why. I also want to say I laernd alot about Haiti. I hope Vivine and her friends get lots of soap to wash them selfs. I hope Vivine goes with you soon.Sincerely,
Lauren E.
Dear, Lynde and Chad
I am happy that you are shipping soap to Haiti. Does Vivine like it there Do the girls like it there. I leard that haiti has trash every wear and even some kids do not have shos on. Why do the road measy and I leard that how you fix your car is by fliping it over and then you fix it Why do they do that. Do you guys like Haiti. Some people leard and told me Haiti is not a very safe place is that true. Write Back.Love, Harley
Thanks to everyone who helped out with Soapfest. I still have soap to count, but I think it's safe to estimate that the total will break 1,000. I'll have details tomorrow about what to do if you still want to send soap or other stuff to help House of Hope.
Monday, February 11, 2008
The soap fumes are making me giddy
It's like the 12 days of Soapfest around here. Each day brings more good surprises. Today I arrived home from work and discovered that Soapy Claus left these for me.
It's a Soapfest miracle!
I counted the loot I had as of Sunday, before I had to evacuate the soaps to House of Hope's St. Louis headquarters. Eight hundred eighty-seven soaps, all collected through one wishful little blog. I mean, WOW! Seriously, I didn't ask anyone else for soap except you, and it's a good thing, too. The soaps were starting to take over. They had their own room, for goodness' sake!
Soapfest ends on Valentine's Day. Will we get a thousand soaps? Will the shampoos and the bar soaps ever settle their sudsy battle for domination? Will the winners demand their own chartered flight to Haiti? It's all too much.
Sing with me: "887 bars of soap on the wall! 887 bars of soap..."
It's a Soapfest miracle!
I counted the loot I had as of Sunday, before I had to evacuate the soaps to House of Hope's St. Louis headquarters. Eight hundred eighty-seven soaps, all collected through one wishful little blog. I mean, WOW! Seriously, I didn't ask anyone else for soap except you, and it's a good thing, too. The soaps were starting to take over. They had their own room, for goodness' sake!
Soapfest ends on Valentine's Day. Will we get a thousand soaps? Will the shampoos and the bar soaps ever settle their sudsy battle for domination? Will the winners demand their own chartered flight to Haiti? It's all too much.
Sing with me: "887 bars of soap on the wall! 887 bars of soap..."
Friday, February 8, 2008
Soapfest has wings
My sister-in-law, Jenni, teaches third grade in St. Joseph, Mo. Today I got this e-mail from her.
Hey Lynde I just wanted to let you know that there are a couple of soap boxes on the way sent from some very special people. My mom mailed the boxes, so they have her return address, but I wanted to let you know the story behind the box. I talked to my third graders and shared information about Haiti with them. They decided that they wanted to help you with your Soap Fest. So, my third graders collected soap (and other various bathroom products) to send to Vivine. They are all so excited to be able to help. They talked about it for days, told their parents about it and even convinced some of them to go shopping just for Vivine. Some of the kids gave the soap they got as Christmas presents (little pink and purple shaped flowers and princess crowns), others brought whatever they could find around the house. I know some of the stuff you won't be able to send, but I wanted to send it to you anyway. This really helped to teach my class about helping others in need and gave me a chance to teach them about another country. We pulled out the maps, Chad sent us his Haiti video and we watched that, and some of my students even checked out books about Haiti from the library. I have another small bundle of more soap my students brought and will be sending that soon. My students wanted me to tell you that they hope this helps you meet your goal and that it helps the people in Haiti.I wish I could have had her for my teacher when I was in third grade!
:) Jenni
The wee small hours
Bear with me. School is kicking my butt right now. I have a funny story about a chair-massaging machine and some photos of more soap lurking in the wings. But considering that it's almost 1 a.m. and I just wondered how to spell both "chair" (with an 'i,' right?) and "story" (that's one r, folks), I'm going to go to bed now.
When I was in college I regularly stayed up late studying then woke for 8 a.m. classes and/or work with far fewer debilitating effects. Maybe the coffee was stronger then. Maybe my blood was thicker. I certainly didn't look like this all the time:
Taken with laptop cam at 12:55 a.m.
My, what a difference five years makes. Tomorrow after my accounting exam, I'm headed to Sephora to look for anti-grad-school creams. Something that will fight wrinkles and under-eye bags and maybe is laced with speed.
When I was in college I regularly stayed up late studying then woke for 8 a.m. classes and/or work with far fewer debilitating effects. Maybe the coffee was stronger then. Maybe my blood was thicker. I certainly didn't look like this all the time:
Taken with laptop cam at 12:55 a.m.
My, what a difference five years makes. Tomorrow after my accounting exam, I'm headed to Sephora to look for anti-grad-school creams. Something that will fight wrinkles and under-eye bags and maybe is laced with speed.
Sunday, February 3, 2008
Butter Week
Celebrating Mardis Gras the Russian way.
Russians call the week before Lent starts "Maslenitsa." It literally translates as "Butter Week." The Orthodox are hard core, you see; they go totally vegan for Lent. The week before, they rid their homes of all things buttery by fixing piles of delicious, thin, greasy pancakes called "bliny" (that's "BLEEN-ee" for you gringos).
Bliny can be tricky to make, especially if you only make them once a year like I do. But I was in the bliny zone today. Unlike the bliny of years past, the 2008 bliny were neither burnt nor rubbery.
Golden like the springtime sun.
These bliny really took me back to the winter of 2002, when I was a foreign exchange student in Russia. Alas for hot tea, shawls, the metric system and long walks in the park with Kathy...
I wrote this bliny recipe in Russian while watching my host mom cook.
PC remarked earlier: "So you're going to blog about bliny but not about Barack?!"
Sigh. Yes, we went to hear Barack Obama speak last night at the Edward Jones Dome. It was the first time I can recall attending a political rally as a spectator rather than a journalist. As we walked up to the dome, I felt liberated. No man-on-the-street interviews ("So, Mrs. Lincoln, how did you like the play?"), no freaking out because I missed a word in the second sentence of the speech, no calling up the opposition at 9:30 p.m. just to get "both sides" ("I already know your position on this issue, but can you restate it in new words so I can have a fresh quote?"). It felt a little bit like the time I saw my favorite Ivanov painting in a museum and realized how much better it looked in person than in print.
Then we actually got inside, and I learned what crappy seats spectators get. Actually, we didn't get seats at all, just a square foot of floor space to stand on behind the press risers. If I jumped up and down, I could just barely see this:
That's him, I swear.
The speech sounded good, but I am still decidedly undecided. If you really want my vote, bring some Barcaloungers to town next time!
Saturday, February 2, 2008
Soapfest part deux
A large congregation of soaps has amassed in the guest bedroom at Chez Langdon.
Can you guys take down that Beverly Hills 90210 wallpaper while you're in there?
I think they're starting to make soap babies in there. How else do you explain the sudden appearance of a new breed of "conditioning shampoos?"
Seriously, Soapfest has a life of its own now. The soap is arriving via mail and anonymous donations at church faster than I can count it. I had 473 items on Tuesday, but another box landed here on Wednesday.
This is all wonderful news! I have probably already exceeded my goal of 500 items, and it's just now Groundhog Day! Soapfest continues for another 12 days, so please keep it coming! I particularly need washcloths. For full Soapfest background, click here.
Post script
As the Asheville Citizen-Times' former Ace Weather Reporter, I can't resist telling you that it snowed like crazy in St. Louis this week. Of all the Langdons, Bear CLEARLY enjoyed it the most.
"Aw, Mom, can't I stay out just a little *shiver* longer?"
Can you guys take down that Beverly Hills 90210 wallpaper while you're in there?
I think they're starting to make soap babies in there. How else do you explain the sudden appearance of a new breed of "conditioning shampoos?"
 | + |  | = |  |
Seriously, Soapfest has a life of its own now. The soap is arriving via mail and anonymous donations at church faster than I can count it. I had 473 items on Tuesday, but another box landed here on Wednesday.
This is all wonderful news! I have probably already exceeded my goal of 500 items, and it's just now Groundhog Day! Soapfest continues for another 12 days, so please keep it coming! I particularly need washcloths. For full Soapfest background, click here.
Post script
As the Asheville Citizen-Times' former Ace Weather Reporter, I can't resist telling you that it snowed like crazy in St. Louis this week. Of all the Langdons, Bear CLEARLY enjoyed it the most.
"Aw, Mom, can't I stay out just a little *shiver* longer?"
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