Kid stuff

The holidays started early at our house because we had to send Vivine's Christmas presents to Haiti in mid-November. We were not sure what was on her wish list, but we did the best we could with these items:


Christmas loot

• Set of bristle blocks
• Bear-shaped bean pillow
• Ruby slippers
• New black shoes for school
• My Little Ponies x 2
• Activity block
• Hannah Montana lip gloss
• Candy necklaces
• Lollipops

When I took these photos, I realized I hadn't posted pics of the completed paint job in Vivine's room.


So pretty!

We didn't have any furniture except the bed, so we started calling the room the pink prison cell. Then, a few days later, these items appeared...



One of the families at church has a (very well dressed) daughter who is one year older than Vivine. Last Sunday, they gave us what seemed like a small bag of clothes. It turned out it was the clothes that were small, not the bag. It had an entire child's wardrobe in it.

All we need now is the little girl!

Magnum opus

Bad bangs. Nice stole.

I knit this.

Let me say that again. I knit this. I plan to say that phrase many times in the next few weeks as I show off the fruits of 18 months of knitting labor. Here is how I picture it: Someone at the store will say, "Oh, what a nice scarf."

"I knit this," I will say humbly and meekly, while in my head I proclaim, "Behold, the Print O'The Wave stole, begotten through the tireless work of my nimble fingers! I am truly a master of the knitting craft!"

Not only is the stole a knitting masterpiece, but it also represents a year and a half of memories. (OK, I am a really slow knitter. A greater knitter would have only about three months of memories knitted into the same stole. It was my first lace, so I think 18-months is reasonable.) I had the hare-brained idea to knit lace in May of 2007, around the time of my brother's college graduation. He bought me the yarn as a birthday present. I was 25 at the time; now I am 27. I started knitting the stole during our drive to Yellowstone for vacation in 2007. I remember holding it when we first told our parents we were planning to adopt. I have taken it to Asheville for Jaime's wedding, home to Texas, and to Haiti twice. It has been to school with me for almost every class.

It is gorgeous, and I love it.


My Barack Obama "gazing into the future" stare.

The next portion of this post is for any fellow knitters who are interested in the knitty-gritty. (Ha!)

Pattern: Print O'The Wave Stole, by Eunny Jang (free download)
Yarn: Misti Alpace Lace (only 1.5 skeins!)
Needles: Size 2
Impressions: Knitting lace takes for-EV-er. It is soooo worth it. In the future, however, I will probably knit smaller lacy items, such as socks and hats. Before starting this project, I read that blocking was the best part of the lace-knitting experience. (For any non-knitters who have made it this far, blocking is the process of getting your knitting wet and stretching it out so it looks more pretty.) It was so true. The entire time I was knitting, I felt disappointed in the smushy looking garment coming off the needles. Blocking changed everything. See here:

Pre blocking:

Like a badly-arranged pile of blue spaghetti.

Post-blocking

See how it grows!


Close-up of blocking action.

My only remaining task is, like any good creator, to name my creation. I have considered "My Precious," and "The Golden One" (even though it is blue), but neither seems to really fit. Any thoughts?

Public realizes flip-flops just as good, cheaper than Crocs

...should have been the headline for this story.

This sad turn of affairs for the Crocs company gives me the chance I have been waiting for to express my deep feelings about rubber shoes. (For anyone new to 10 Cents a Word, I have deep feelings about a wide and unpredictable variety of trivial topics, including ketchup, parentheses, and the proper way to pronounce "hamburger.")

I must confess, I do own one pair of Crocs and one pair of knock-offs from Payless. I bought the Crocs a few years back because I am obsessed with shoes. I must own at least one pair of every popular fashion, regardless of how silly it looks. (Hint to anyone thinking ahead to Christmas - I don't yet have a pair of Uggs.) I bought the Payless knock-offs after I finally discovered a practical use for Crocs: keeping your feet protected and sweat-free in Haiti. (One of the original Crocs was lost temporarily. It showed up under the bed months later.)

I have NEVER, however, worn a pair of Crocs to work. That is just wrong on so many levels. Crocs are silly. They clearly were designed to catch attention and cause laughter, much like slap bracelets or those plastic pacifiers people used to wear in middle school. Crocs are appropriate for elementary school, vacations at the beach, and maybe a late-night run to Walgreens for ice cream. You could, on occasion, get away with wearing Crocs to the mall if you were accompanied by children or on your way to the beach. I firmly believe that any situation too fancy for flip-flops also precludes the wearing of Crocs. Sorry, nurses and teachers, but this means you. And, FYI, putting little plastic "gems" on your Crocs does not make them fancier.


While we're at it, let's all stop wearing panty hose with our "fancy" sandals.

Haiti Dangerous

This story is just heartbreaking. A school in Port-Au-Prince collapsed with all the children inside. It was not anywhere near Vivine's neighborhood. She lives down the mountainside in an area that is rarely affected by flooding or landslides, which apparently contributed to this school's collapse.

Still, life in Haiti is dangerous for everyone. A family whose blog I follow just went through a horrible ordeal; the baby they planned to adopt from Haiti got sick in the orphanage, then went to the hospital, had a reaction to some medication and died. The adoptive mom wrote:

What I wouldn't give right now to be waiting. How I long to be beside myself with frustration toward the Haitian adoption process. I so wish I was agonizing over the paperwork as it moved at a snail's pace thru the system. I would give anything for the pain and tears of having to say goodbye after a visit to see her as we continue to long for the day when she actually gets to come home to us.

That certainly puts our ordeal into perspective, though I still want my little girl to come home soon! Pray she stays safe until then.

While you were deciding...

Somehow, the election's being done with has relieved a huge metaphorical weight from my shoulders. At least, now, one thing in my life is DECIDED, you know? This blog post will be like a long exhale of the past few weeks' experiences. Try to hold your breath while you read, and you will know how I've felt recently.

First of all, I kind of, sort of got offered a promotion because the girl who has the job is thinking about leaving, and I have been asked to take her place if she does. OK, in writing it doesn't look so awesome. But I have decided to take as compliment the fact that I am my boss's first choice to replace this girl, even if she doesn't leave. She's a great girl, and it's a great job. So we'll see...

Secondly, I have a new friend on the bus. An annoying friend. Remember the guy in middle school who wanted you to check out his calculator because you could do really cool stuff on it like play Tetris, so it was just like a Gameboy, only smarter? It's not exactly the same as that, but it's close. I have tried to send him subtle signals that I do not enjoy talking to strangers. Isn't having your headphones on (or earbuds, in my case), like, the universal "Don't talk to me" signal? If you have on your iPod AND you're reading a book, then clearly you do not want to be messed with. And for anyone who is thinking, "What if you're missing a great opportunity to tell him about Jesus?" don't worry, I checked. He is a devout church-goer. Insert earbuds now.

Thirdly, speaking of buses, I am acutely pissed that Proposition M did not pass in St. Louis County. The measure would have used new sales tax to fill a budget gap at Metro St. Louis, the company that runs the buses and the small-but-promising light rail system. Because of the shortfall, Metro will have to close bus lines and shorten the light-rail hours next year. Annoying friends aside, I still love my bus. It gives me back two hours of sanity each day that I would otherwise spend infuriated behind the wheel of my Camry. I think people who voted against Prop M should have to put bumper stickers on their cars so the rest of us know whom to ram when we start to feel a little road rage. To all you SUV drivers out there who will pay $200 to fill up your tank but not a quarter-cent extra per dollar at the Galleria, be warned. If I lose my bus, it's on!

Finally, and most magnificently, I recently observed the birth of a human. Some of my co-workers on the maternity floor asked me to do it because they thought I was a little too sheltered when it came to baby-having. (There's some good irony there if you know me REALLY well.) I have seen lots of stuff in the four years I have worked at the hospital, but this was truly unique. I would love to give a detailed account, but that would both violate patient confidentiality and gross out everyone. I will say this: We all owe our moms a big fat apology. Mom, I'm sorry. Just know if there was any other way out of your uterus, I would have taken it.