It's true

In case you haven't heard (via Facebook or text messaging or my dad calling you), we are going to Haiti next week to get Vivine! We leave Tuesday, the visa appointment is Thursday, and (God willing) we will come home on Saturday. All three of us.

PC and I have declared today, Saturday, Sunday and Monday the Happy Days. Right now is the perfect time in our lives. We've gotten what we wanted, but we haven't had to deal with any of the ramifications. It's like that great feeling between being accepted to college and the first day of school, or between getting a new job and your first day of work. For the past two years, a sour, cynical, shriveled old hag has been living inside me, keeping me from hoping too much for this. She constantly reminded me that it could all. go. wrong. But now that we know Vivine is coming home, I don't need her anymore. She has been evicted. I feel like a new person. The hard times are over. Let the good times roll!

Oh, it gets better

So....someone from the orphanage took the missing paper to the U.S. Embassy today. It was exactly the paper they need. It just wasn't in the right language. Apparently, the American Embassy has this annoying rule about documents having to be in English. Details, details.

Our lawyer is getting the document translated and should return to the Embassy tomorrow. And I am really, really being a big person here and not posting a snarky remark about the education of lawyers in Haiti.

The saga continues

On Thursday, I got an e-mail from the U.S. Embassy. It stated that our dossier was missing an important paper it has to have for the "final review." After an evening of stressful phone calls back and forth to Haiti, we think we have things sorted out. Our lawyer is supposed to go to the Embassy on Monday and take the needed paper.

I swear, this thing is dragging on longer than the summer "thriller" plots on Days of our Lives. You know, the ones where a woman takes three weeks to fall down an elevator shaft, her lover takes three weeks to realize she's missing, her husband takes another three weeks to realize she's cheating and then the fire department takes until Christmas to pull her out. Pray for us. And pass the wine.

Seattle, the nice town

PC and I just got back from a great vacation in Seattle. We visited my bro, aka Bubba, whom I definitely don't see often enough. It was so much fun! It was like being a kid again, only better because now we have the Internet.

Seattle is such a nice town, y'all! On Friday, I left my purse at Starbucks and didn't notice until we got back to Bubba's apartment. I freaked because my purse contained everything someone needed to steal my identity in about 3.5 seconds. (It also contained my gold princess phone, which I confess I was more worried about losing than my identity.) Anywho, somebody at Starbucks turned my purse in and didn't touch anything - not even the $34 cash in my wallet!

Seattle is also a very quiet place. Everyone talks like they're telling secrets all the time. Bubba and I are Texans, and Hedgpeths, which means we have two volumes: loud and louder. We did a lot of catching up, all of which was overheard by every patron of every coffee shop, restaurant and movie theater we entered over the course of five days. I hope we at least sounded entertaining, if not smart.

Amazingly, it didn't rain once our entire trip. The sun shined every day, which ruined PC's and my plans to find a real vampire. Oh yes, we're reading the Twilight series, and we were totally stoked about spending five days in the Cullens' backyard. Alas, they must have all stayed inside to avoid twinkling in the sun. (Twilight vampires don't rot - they sparkle.). We didn't even see a lousy werewolf. But it was not a total loss, because the nice weather let us enjoy lots of other fun stuff:


At the waterfront, holding the cargo ships.


Bubba at the beach, looking tall.


We built this awesome fort. Not really, but we did discover it and climb in.

We found an old-school slide, the kind you can break your leg on. Ready, set, go!


Whee!


That's how it's done.



View from Bubba's balcony. For real, dude.


Kodak moment.


PC came, too.


View of Mount Ranier, which Bubba climbed earlier this year.

Haiti mail

Received Friday in response to my latest nagging:

Dear Mrs. Langdon,

Please be informed that your file is presently under review. As soon as a decision is reached you will be notified.

We thank you for your patience.

Regards,

Department of Homeland Security/JF
U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services

It's the first time in 26 months that anyone on the other side of the adoption process has thanked me for being patient. Or e-mailed me just to keep me updated. Thanks, USCIS! (Now, can we speed this thing along?)

Miscellaneous

Topic One: Vah-Vah-Velour

This weekend I got out the Rubbermaid tub of winter clothes and started the Biannual Closet Switch-Out. (I could write a whole 'nother blog entry about how much I love putting things in Rubbermaid tubs. One of my goals is to leave all of my possessions in five Rubbermaid tubs just before I die. One tub will be Coach purses. One will be keepsakes and newspaper clips. The other three will probably be yarn.)

I tend to forget what clothes I have from season to season, so unpacking seasonal stuff feels like getting new clothes. Tonight I was delighted to rediscover my old faithful friend, the velour jumpsuit. I actually have two velour jumpsuits, one in each of my signature colors: brown and gray. How do I describe my relationship with the velour jumpsuit? Guilty pleasure? Unrepented sin? Let's face it, the velour jumpsuit just barely passes as Decent. It's 80 percent Hoochie Mama, 5 percent Camel Toe and 15 percent I-Just-Don't-Give-A-Damn. When I wear it out in public, I feel a like I did in seventh grade when I wore a midriff to Casual Day at church. I know I'm "pushing it," as my dad would say. This year, I'll try to limit my velour jumpsuit-wearing to at-home hours only. But if you see me at Walgreens buying ice cream and razor blades in a velour jumpsuit, don't judge me.

Topic Two: The Power of Negative Thinking

I went to the chiropractor yesterday for the first time in months. (I only go if it hurts real bad.) He told me to drink less alcohol and coffee, but mainly less coffee. I told him I could do it the other way around, but I could not decrease my coffee intake. Then he asked me if I had "problems producing a positive creative image." Huh? "When you visualize the future, do you only envision negative things happening?" he asked. Wow! I thought. Can you fix that by cracking my back? Because it sure would be nice not to spend the entire day visualizing my daughter growing older by the second while I'm missing the opportunity to be her mommy, which will probably make it that much harder for her as she tries to adjust to her new life in America. Instead, I said, "Maybe," and he said, "Well, it's just what the book says to ask." This morning I had my usual amount of coffee, and the usual amount of fearful thoughts about the adoption. But, hey, my back felt a lot better.

Topic Three: The perfect Chai

"Chai" is Russian for Tea. I drank eight cups of tea a day when I studied abroad in Russia. My favorite brand was called "Ahmad." It was an English tea imported to Russia. It tasted strong, brisk and bold and was sooooo comforting. I brought a little bit home with me, but, golly, that was eight years ago and I drank it up pretty quick. I had almost forgotten about it until today when I saw it the hospital gift shop, of all places. I was so enraptured that I strolled right into the back office and personally thanked the gift shop manager for ordering it. Tonight I had a cup. Lord, have mercy, it took me right back to the Motherland. The box even has Russian wording on the back describing the flavor and ingredients.

So this is how emotionally parched I am right now - I feel like finding this tea in the hospital gift shop was a SIGN. It was a little love note from Heaven saying, "See! I haven't forgotten you. I know you think your life is crazy and disjointed and makes no sense, but it's all going to come together." I mean, dang, if my favorite English tea from Russian can find its way to a little hospital gift shop in St. Louis where I happen to be working eight years later, then I can find my way in this world, too. Right?

No news

We're waiting on approval from U.S. immigration. They will send us an e-mail when they've decided. I am checking my e-mail approximately 86 times a day so we definitely won't miss it.

That's all.