Strolling towards the holiday . . .

We're in the homestretch now . . . The third week of Advent, and Christmas Day just days away. Buying, wrapping, baking, card-writing--nothing happening yet.

Still I feel I've been preparing for Christmas in a leisurely way. We've been decking the halls in our usual way, a little bit at a time, adding a few decorations every day. We've made some cookie dough ornaments (Libby and LeiLei were very creative in mixing paint colors, so all of theirs are a uniform charcoal gray.)
And we went on the annual Godmother's Christmas outing: this year to a performance of Black Nativity, the Langston Hughes re-telling of the Christmas story. The opening procession, a choir entering in darkness, each person carrying a lighted candle while singing "Go Tell it on the Mountain" was hauntingly beautiful. And from there on in, the program had the simplicity of a Christmas pageant, but enhanced a million times by gorgeous music and singing. The emotional center of the production is the dance of Mary giving birth, to African drumming, and it was performed beautifully and with great intensity by a young woman who was a dance major at BAA, according to Kit.

Libby was entranced. LeiLei fell asleep around the time Joseph and Mary started the journey to Bethlehem, but woke up at the end and applauded furiously.

This year Black Nativity was performed in the Tremont Temple. I had never been inside before. It is a wonderful, impressive space--with an equally impressive history.
http://www.tremonttemple.com/History.htm

Sad day in history

This is the anniversary of John Lennon's death.
That night I was home alone, reading in bed, and for some unknown reason, because I never listened to the radio at night, I turned on the radio. Within a minute, I heard Oedipus (BCN night d.j. at the time) say "There's a report that John Lennon has been shot." I was horrified and distraught.
Pierre came home and I said, "John has been shot. I'm scared", and we listened together, and then the next report said he was dead.
I was devastated. The next few days were a blur of crying, listening to tributes and Beatles music, and mourning, not just for John, but for that part of my life. The Beatles were the major (ok, one of the two major, the other being Little Women!) influence on my artistic/social/philosophical development.
I still miss him.
It was especially awful, having it happen during the holiday season, because I associated the Beatles with Christmas anyway--not sure why, perhaps because they appeared on the American scene in late November, perhaps because Yellow Submarine came out during the holiday season, perhaps because of the Christmas records they produced for fan club members. Oh, and John's song "Happy Christmas/War is Over"
Anyway, years have passed; now the anniversary is a day when I look back and remember loved ones who can't be found at Christmas anymore, but whose spirits are still very much a part of this special time.
http://www.guntheranderson.com/v/data/happychr.htm
http://www.johnlennon.com/

LeiLei's wintry firsts

It is amazing to see my Beihei baby experience her first winter. Yesterday LeiLei saw snow for the first time! She and Libby were both excited, and ran outside. I watched from the front window and saw Libby instructing LeiLei in how best to enjoy snow, how to stamp your foot in it to leave your boot-print, how to catch snowflakes on your tongue. After about ten minutes they both ran back in, Libby continuing to lecture: "and when it's deeper, LeiLei, you can make a snow angel . . . " And Leilei whimpering, "Cold . . . cold . . . " Being a child of the tropics, being this cold is a new, harsh reality.

I took both girls to meet Santa at a Sunday breakfast organized for this purpose by our church. Heretofore, Libby had steadfastly refused to approach Santa, though she wanted to, because she was too scared. Leilei, though apprehensive, was willing to try, so they both sat on Santa's lap together! Another example of the benefit to Libby of having an adventurous sidekick!

Leilei is getting a crash course in Santa Claus. It is the fourth time I've initiated a child into the Santa cult, and as always, with mixed feelings of delight and guilt. Delight, because I love Santa, and actually never stopped believing, and guilt, because I believe in scrupulous honesty, and my rational self knows I am telling outright lies to a child. While I live happily in a state of cognitive dissonance (which explains a lot!), it is not a condition I want to pass on to the young ones.

With Julian, I actually entertained the thought of being upfront about Santa being a spirit, a story, and nothing more. That lasted through his first Christmas, when he was an infant, and didn't understand anything anyway. Mrs. Simeone, who I am told actually reads this blog (thank you!) may remember she advised me at the time that this was not the way to go!

Of course, by the next Christmas, Julian was a Santa fan, and I have been pushing Santa ever since. I rationalize it now by noting his origins as Saint Nicholas--of course, plenty of people would consider that a myth as well--in fact, the whole Christmas story might be included in that world view.

But I firmly believe that myth, story, and imagination make up not a secondary, lesser, or "alternate" reality, but the most essential reality. To deprive my kids of it, in the name of truth, would be to deny an entire component of truth--and to deprive them of one of the best survival skills of all: to make up your own story.

What follows is from Betty Smith's "A Tree Grows in Brooklyn"; I read it in a favorite blog, Chattering Mind.http://www.beliefnet.com/blogs/chatteringmind/ It gives a slightly different look at why belief in Santa is good for a child:

In the passage an immigrant grandma, Mary Rommely, explains to her daughter, a young mother, how to raise a child. Mary reviews the importance of the Bible, and the need to read Shakespeare, fairy tales, and myths aloud to every child, then she adds this: "Oh, and you must not forget the Kris Kringle. The child must believe in him until she reaches the age of six."

"Mother, I know there are no ghosts or fairies. I would be teaching the child foolish lies."

Mary spoke sharply. "You do not know whether there are not ghosts on earth or angels in heaven."

"I know there is no Santa Claus."

"Yet, you must teach the child that these things are so."

"Why? When I, myself, do not believe?"

"Because," explained Mary Rommely simply, "the child must have a valuable thing which is called imagination. The child must have a secret world in which live things that never were. It is necessary that she believe. She must start out believing in things not of this world. Then when the world becomes too ugly for living in, the child can reach back and live in her imagination. I, myself, even in this day and at my age, have great need of recalling the miraculous lives of the Saints and the great miracles that have come to pass on earth. Only by having these things in my mind can I live beyond what I have to live for."

"The child will grow up and find out things for herself. She will know that I lied. She will be disappointed."

"That is what is called learning the truth. It is a good thing to learn the truth one's self. To first believe with all your heart, and then not to believe, is good too. It fattens the emotions and makes them to stretch. When as a woman life and people disappoint her, she will have had practice in disappointment and it will not come so hard. In teaching your child, do not forget that suffering is good too. It makes a person rich in character."

All that, and he brings presents, too! Happy Advent, everyone!

Libby is six!

How did my darling baby girl achieve this exalted age so quickly????? She celebrated on her birthday, November 17, with a family party at a restaurant, (the kind where the waiters sing happy birthday to you--) and that Sunday, with a fairy princess "friend" party.

Highlights of the F.P party included:
Libby getting to wear her Halloween costume again.

LeiLei getting to wear HER costime (black cat) again, but this time with a princess gown and crown over it. By the end of the party, she was sweating.

Cramming many lovely princessess and their parents, and some fairy godmothers (Jane and Sarah) into our living room. The more the merrier, but also, the more the crazier!

Apart from the crowded craziness, there were many successful aspects to this party. The treasure hunt went quite well, I thought. Also, present opening making use of a chair for the birthday girl, and another for the girl giving the gift , focused attention on each gift, and made it easier to prompt Libby to say "thank you"!

Watching her sit on her birthday throne, I couldn't believe it had been five years since I first met my precious Libby. Though I had looked forward to and imagined the meeting so many times since getting her adorable referral photo, I was completely unprepared for the actual event. A major factor was learning the day before that she was Hep B positive, and therefore, I could refuse her referral. I said no, but the doctor insisted I talk to Pierre, and read information about Hep B, and not make my decision till the next day. I felt chilled, like when you find out someone is dead. I felt sick with fear. I even felt some sort of shame, like I was going to be burdening my family with a defective baby (it was a very disorienting time!) I couldn't wait to get the doctor and our guide out of my hotel room, to be alone and cry. Finally I practically pushed them out, and fell on my bed. I prayed to make the right decision, and immediately I felt "go ahead. Everything will be okay." And it was!

The next day, despite all my efforts at organization, I discovered I was missing a key piece of paperwork just as the babies were coming in. I had to race to my hotel room, and I saw Libby being carried in! I retrieved the document and ran back, and everyone in the room was standing there waiting for me (or so it seemed; this may be some kind of stress-related hallucination). Helen, our guide, stepped forward with Libby, and said, "Here is Zhu Ya Fang." I said "Hello, pretty girl", and asked if I could hold her. Helen said yes, "but Maureen, after this you will not be able to change your mind."

I had been prepared for tears, but Libby laughed. Her nannies showed how she liked to play, and how she could "talk". I had been prepared to learn to love my new baby, but I loved her immediately and completely.

That night in the hotel, I put her to bed in a portable crib. When she woke up crying in the night, I leaned over her and said, "Libby, are you ok?" She opened her eyes, and for about 3 seconds, she had a look of utmost incredulity and horror as she stared at my unfamiliar face--but then, I saw her expression change to recognition and relaxation. It was amazing! She knew me! What's more, she trusted me! I brought her into bed with me, and that was it. We were bonded. At least till she becomes a teenager.

Libby, you were probably born in the country--maybe that's why you want to be a farmer! The referral information said you were found on the steps of a guest house, and were about three months old. So from this I am guessing someone badly wanted you, enough to keep you for three months, maybe in secret. I worry that you might have been cold, because January in Anhui is wintry. I worry that at three months you felt fear, and sadness. I guess about all these things, and I will never know the truth.

But here's some things I do know, my special Dragon girl. Your birth parents must be smart and beautiful, creative and curious, like you. And I am the luckiest mom in the world, so very lucky that we found each other. It is the best kind of fairy princess story, because it is a dream come true. And we're living happily ever after.

Thanksgiving Eve

The house is (thankfully) quiet. My new system for putting the little ones to bed seems to be working. So I'll take the opportunity to list some highlights of the birthday month, instead of washing the dishes or making some unlikely concoction called "turkey brine", which Pierre has requested I prepare while he's on the road retrieving Julian and Julian's new dog, for Thanksgiving.

In no particular order, here are the highlights:

1. Dylan concert on my birthday weekend. I went with Ed, of course, and with a friend of Lisa's, Marion. The set list was wonderful, combining old and new stuff, all re-imagined and re-interpreted by my hero, the king of second and third chances. The opening band, The Raconteurs, was a big, happy surprise to me--I'd never really heard of them, and loved their dramatic, LOUD, idiosynchratic material. A cover of Cher's Bang Bang, for example!

2. My birthday party, which I threw for myself. The theme, Late Bloomer, was intended to go along with the party activity, which was to be bulb planting. It rained torrentially all day, however, so no bulb planting, but lots of fun with good friends, nontheless.

3. My tire blowing out on my way home to my birthday party--I had just picked Libby up from a school friend's party, and since my own party was due to start in an hour, had raced out of the house without my cell phone. So . . . no phone, me and Libby, flat tire, pounding rain, party coming up . . . But wait, miraculously this happened right in front of the Newtonville Fire Department! Two firemen, Lorne and Tony, changed my tire in about 3 minutes, wished me happy birthday, and sent me on my way! An excellent birthday present.

4. My Harold Pinter lecture at the Brookline Center for Adult Ed. When I told a friend I was doing this, she said "Is he the one who wrote all those dreary plays?" I said, I guess, but this lecture is about his substantial contribution to cinema. "And what do you know about this?" she asked skeptically. A good question, one I asked myself as I did my research. It reminded me of a joke Pinter told in an interview about his friend and fellow playwright Tom Stoppard, who was applying for a political reporting job at the BBC as a very young man. The interviewer asked him who the prime minister was (it wasn't the prime minister, but something equally no brainerish) and Stoppard, who didn't know, said "I said I was interested in politics, not obsessed by them!" I'm interested, but not obsessed by Pinter--but it was great fun watching some favorite old films again--the Pumpkin Eater, The Go-between . . .

Ok, here's the highlight of this highlight! One of the ladies who attended the lecture asked me if I had seen Antonia Fraser, Pinter's wife, at the Brookline Booksmith the night before. No, I hadn't even known she was in town, I replied, but I wish I had, I would have invtited her to this lecture. "Oh, I did invite her," the lady said, "but she told me she had to be in Washington D.C. tonight!" I was immediately struck with two thoughts: that I was grateful she hadn't come, as there was quite a bit of sort of scandalous stuff in my lecture about her, and I would have had to throw some of it out . . . and that it could be that Lady Fraser had actually TOLD Pinter about my lecture, if she had phoned him that night!!!!!! "Oh Harold, someone named Maureen Tripp is lecturing about your screenplays here tomorrow night . . . " "Can't imagine anyone would be interested in that old stuff," Harold (perhaps) might have snorted . . .

At an advanced age, and in not great health, Pinter is still acting (just finished a two week run of Krapp's Last Tape in London last month), and, of course, still speaking out: his Nobel Lecture is impassioned in spirit, language, and delivery:
You can see it online at:
http://www.haroldpinter.org
On to tackle the wretched turkey brine . . . Happy Thanksgiving to all!

Liver updates

Seeing as the fight against liver disease was the impetus for this blog, I thought I should include a few updates . . . some depressing news, and some good news.

First, check out this story: http://www.dnaindia.com/report.asp?NewsID=1057947
about students banned from school in Xinjiang province. Proof that denial and stigma can be as damaging, or more so, than the actual condition of being hep B positive.

Here's a more encouraging story: http://uk.biz.yahoo.com/07112006/244/novartis-china-east-meets-west-r-d.html
about the Swiss drug company's plans to build a huge r & d center in Shanghai, with an initial focus on infectious causes of cancer: like hep B virus.

So it goes, one step back, another step forward . . .

A Delightful Month!

"November is the most disagreeable month in the whole year," said Margaret, standing at the window one dull afternoon, looking out at the frostbitten garden."

"That's the reason I was born in it," observed Jo pensively, quite unconscious of the blot on her nose.

************************************************************************************
But, as Beth notes in the next paragraph, if something pleasant happens, November can be a delightful month! For me, it's a month of parties! First, my birthday (the 8th), then Libby's (the 17th)--not to mention, Auntie Gail's (22nd), my first friend Gigi's (18th), and of course, Louisa May herself (November 29th--it was her father Bronson's birthday as well) Scorpios rule!

Speaking of birthdays, Happy Birthday to my totally chic, politically savvy, gorgeous goddaughter Maria (Gigi's daughter) !
The girl has it all--looks, brains, style, and personality plus! Can you tell I'm proud to be her godmom? Her latest accomplishments include hanging out with Barak Obama and probably talking him into running for president (he announced the next day) and appearing in Teen Vogue (she's fierce!)

Happy Day of the Dead!

Not wanting to end the Halloween fun, I like to prolong the festivities by celebrating the Day of the Dead November 1 and November 2. Tonight I'll set an extra place at the table for any dead family members who want to stop by. Gail and I were talking about it today, and wondering if they all fight about it (being from MY family, I know there's some back and forth!), like "It's MY turn this year! No, it's MINE! Why doesn't she set more than one place?!!?"
To see how the Days of the Dead are supposed to be celebrated, check out this lovely website: http://dayofthedead.com/TraditionAltars.html
Many gorgeous photographs of altars, skeleton pastries, etc.
For those in the area who want to take part, my favorite hang-out, Forest Hills Cemetary holds a great celebration: http://www.foresthillstrust.org/calendar.html
Too bad it's on a school night, but I am tempted to go! And when it involves a party, I usually give in to temptation.

Halloween last night was LeiLei's first, and she loved it! What's not to love? Dress up like a kitty and get free candy! Kit and Kevin took the girls around for trick or treat, while I prepared the traditional soup served in a pumpkin shell, and Auntie Gail and Pierre gave out candy, more candy, extra bags of snack cookies and popcorn--we just stopped short of having to give out breath mints!!!!! We had the most kids ever! I'm sure the wonderful weather had something to do with it! Libby was a beautiful fairy princess in a custom-made gown by royal designer Kit Spy, and LeiLei's black cat costume suited her perfectly. (Make-up by Kit, of course.)
Watch this space for photos soon!

Harvest time

Last weekend LeiLei and her friend from the Behai SWI, XingXing, got together for apple picking! Naturally, the families of both girls came along for the fun. We met at an orchard in Sturbridge, almost a halfway stop for both families. The Charleton Orchard was part of a small farm, with a playground, animals, donuts--all the accoutrements of successful apple-picking!

The girls hadn't seen each other since July, and were very happy to be reunited. At one point, Xing Xing hugged LeiLei, who seemed a little embarrassed, but totally happy. LeiLei grabbed her hand, and said "come on!' and they skipped off together, like the "old" friends they are.

Libby had a reunion the previous weekend with some of the girls from our adoption journey. The fifth year anniversary of that trip happened to coincide with the Autumn Moon Festival weekend. Ling Le's mom and dad were the hosts for a wonderful lantern-making party. Libby, Ling Le, Nora, and Lily (and assorted siblings) made real lanterns from red paper, reflective tape and star stickers. They hung the lanterns from sticks, and we set off for Larz Anderson Park to see the full moon, and walk around with the lanterns.

The Harvest moon was spectacular that night! It was huge, and from the top of the hill at the park we seemed so close to the Jade Rabbit and the Lady in the Moon. The girls sang songs (they all seemed to know the MeiMei ones!) and swung their lanterns. Carlo, Ling Le's dad, heroically lit and re-lit candles, as we adults clustered around him, trying to block the evening breeze.

I noticed that this was the first year Libby really entered into the spirit of the reunion. She actually ran out of the car toward LingLe's house, she posed for photographs--she was engaged, and had fun! Whether this is the natural progression of things, or whether she feels more at ease going into social situations with a sidekick, I'm not sure. LeiLei, of course, had no trouble marching into the middle of things, and feeling instantly at home!

These gathering together times remind me of how very lucky I am to have my "littles." Through them I've met all these other families, the members of which have enriched my life so much. Janie and Chuck, and their daughters Maura and Katie; Tina and Carlo, Eileen, Moira, and LingLe, Yuan, Lily, Nora, Helen, and Lily: all warm, funny, and kind people--and Libby and LeiLei made meeting them possible. A very rich harvest indeed, (to paraphrase Marmee in Little Women!)

Death takes a holiday, episode 3

Ok, once I got back home, urban life, in all its uproarious complexity, resumed . . . And I experienced my third (that I know of) brush with death, the other two being the time I jumped across the train tracks, and the time I got hit by a car. This time I was walking towards the Acorn pre-school, engrossed in my thoughts, when I heard five pops! Unmistakably gun-shots, close by. Looking up (because when engrossed in my thoughts, I tend to look down) I saw four young men, teenagers, running toward me and laughing mischievously. One of them was carrying a gun!

In a matter of seconds, the following monologue ran through my mind:
"ohmigod, these kids have a gun! but they're laughing! plus, they have already shot the gun, so I must be safe! They won't shoot me. WAIT, what about those school shootings! These guys might shoot me just for fun!!!! Quick! Duck down the alley! Should I hide behind this pillar? Or might they come down the alley after me???? Best to keep running! Hey you, guy-walking-up-the-alley!!!! Go back!!!!"

I ran into the school, and told everyone to stay inside, keep the kids inside, and call the police. After a minute or two, while the largely Chinese-speaking staff tried to find someone who could understand panting, sweating, hysterical English-speaking me, this was done. A little while later, I went home with Leilei. That night I saw a brief news report on the shooting (one guy was shot, one bus window hit). Life went on.

I was struck by the fact that every time I've had one of these brushes with death, I've had the same immediate thoughtlet--not verbal, too instantaneous to be a real thought, but it is something like, "I'm going to die, for a stupid reason." In the first case, I almost died because I HAD to get a newspaper before the train arrived (necessitating my leaping across the tracks, buying it, then leaping back again as the train pulled in); in the second case, because a car and I were playing a sort of chicken as I crossed the street, and he rounded the corner; in this latest case, because I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. So the part of death I object to, I guess, is the randomness of it, the banality of it--which leads to the question: is there any non-stupid reason for death? To be continued . . . if I'm ever in a philosophical mood.

When I haven't posted in this long, you know I've been having adventures . . .

Arizona update: I won an Ipod Nano in the raffle. Gave it to Kit when I got home, which made her very happy.

Perfect evening achieved: The last night in Arizona, I went out to dinner with about 14 other people, vendors and buyers. We went some place in Scottsdale, whose name I mysteriously don't remember. Perhaps too much wine? Or some mystical enchantment? We ate outside on a patio, the only party at the restaurant to do so. Apparently, the Arizona folks prefer to eat in air-conditioned comfort, but to me, this was like what you always imagine eating outside on a summer evening will be like, but never is: bug-free, perfect temperature (warm, but not enough to make one sweat unattractively), charming companions, preferably with some sort of European accents, good food and wine, stars visible under a canopy of leaves.

So . . . at one point I looked up at the stars and realized, this is the most perfect evening of my life! Not because it was in any way significant, but simply because all the conditions were ideal:
fourteen people assembled at a long table, several from Canada, one from Argentina by way of Romania (thus, accent requirements were fulfilled), excellent food and wine, lots of interesting conversation, lots of open-hearted laughter (as opposed to cynical, snide laughter, which makes me most uneasy). At the end of the evening we all embraced, exchanged cards, etc. And we will probably not have any personal contact again, except coincidentally. But for one evening, perfection!

To be continued . . .

Desert exploration

Yes, today I explored the desert. Several of us intrepid video librarian types drove into the Superstition Mountains, and did a little--a very little--hiking. I was very gungho about hiking till some cowpoke couple also hiking pointed out that my sandals were not very practical. "They're actually very comfortable," I blithely replied. "Yes, but they offer no protection against snakes. And scorpions," said the kindly lady cowpoke.

I gingerly tiptoed back to the parking lot. No, I stayed on the trail and took lots of pictures of the gorgeous mesas, buttes, cacti, and other flora and fauna, but I was very, very cautious!!!!

We stopped at Tortilla Flat, a tiny townkin which is basically a tourist trap, but very cute. We had lunch, took some more photos, and headed back to the media market. Just saw the last presentation of the market, on podcasting. To heck with the blog, now I want to podcast!!!!! Note to self: contact Kevo asap for tech assistance.

Now I'm waiting for the conclusion of the conference, the pinnacle of my experience here: the long-awaited raffle!!!! I have been diligent about filling out raffle tickets and leaving them with the vendors, so I fully expect to win something!!!! Stay tuned.

Still in Arizona!

The National Media Market has been a great opportunity to meet, greet, and eat . . . I've had lots of fun meeting vendors and other ed media folks . . . plus free lunch is provided daily . . . not to mention the opportunities to preview some excellent programs. At work I'm usually requesting previews for faculty members, and passing the videos on to them . . . not enough time for me to actually view them. Here, that's the whole raison d'etre: I can wander around to the various vendors, all of whom are installed in hotel rooms, which is a bit odd till you get used to it, and plunk myself down in front of their DVD players and monitors, and watch video to my heart's content. Did I mention the vendors often provide chocolate as well? It is a videophile's delight.

I've seen some excellent materials on China, Willa Cather, the age of AIDS, and many more topics. I particularly enjoyed seeing a documentary on packrats, which I realized as I was watching it, was produced by an Emerson alum. My favorite title so far: The Last House Standing, a documentary by a Shanghai filmmaker on a man who tries to hold on to his house as the government plans to destroy it. A wonderful study of an individual who has witnessed a great deal of Chinese history from his house.

Finally escaped the hotel tonight, and had a great non-hotel dinner of salad and pizza in the Old Town section of Scottsdale. Not only did I have a good meal, I got to ride in a PT Cruiser for the first time!!!! I was in heaven. Five of us went--two Canadians, a vendor from Montana, and a vendor from New York . . . it was lots of fun! Arizona seems like a very pleasant place . . . sort of clean and swept . . . lots of room, and cool cacti and palm trees (alas, none of them native) . . . a place I'd like to visit again.

I've been inspired to venture beyond the hotel again tomorrow--I have been really good, and visited nearly every vendor--and been to every professional development program! So tomorrow morning I may explore a bit . . . stay tuned!

Wow, I'm in Arizona!!!!!

Greetings from a dry, hot place . . .
I'm at the National Media Market which is taking place this year in Mesa, Arizona, which seems to be an oasis of hotels not far from Phoenix. I'm staying at the Hilton East; most conveniently, this is the location of the Media Market as well, so I can fall out of bed, stumble out the door, and immerse myself in all manner of educational media from early morning (far too early if you ask me) till night.

It is so fun! I am meeting people I know only from listservs or as voices on the phone--the mythical "Peter" from Medianet, the Films Media Group folks, Ursula from the NMM board, who was kind enough to award me a travel grant to this shindig . . .

I haven't been to Arizona since I was a kid . . . on one of my mom's previously described "educational" road trips! My memories of this area are grim. First, I got sick, so sick my mom had to carry me out of the car (I was, like, 11) to view the Grand Canyon. Then, FAR WORSE,
my mom got sick!!!! She was so sick she pulled off the road early and we got a motel room in Phoenix. She told my brother and me she was going to "sweat it out", which was a sort of family remedy for getting rid of sickness, and that we should go out to the pool so she could rest. Jerry and I wandered out in the noonday sun to the pool, and since we always stayed at the cheapest hotels, it was wretched. We sat there in the blazing sun, watching water-bugs skate over the surface of the water. Then we went back to the room, and watched TV, till my mom woke up, well enough to take us to dinner.

This hotel is much nicer! Fitness center, much cleaner pool with no bugs.

My flight was long enough for me to finish a book I loved: Moon Tide, by Dawn Tripp. She's a Tripp by marriage only, but has captured perfectly the landscape, people, and a critical time in the history of my beloved Westport. I must say I think the erotic relationships in the novel do not seem likely to have taken place between any of MY Westport ancestors . . . then again, what do I know? I was dazzled by her use of language, and can't wait to read her second novel, also set in Westport, The Season of Open Water. http://www.amazon.com/Moon-Tide-Dawn-Clifton-Tripp

Once again, I find myself digitally challenged, and unable to make a satisfactory link. Just go to amazon and look Dawn Tripp's books up there. Kevo, why can't I do this stuff????????

saying goodbye to summer

Last Sunday may have been my last dip in the ocean for this year. Sass and I spent the weekend at Camp Three Old Chicks, Sarah's beach house. If summer must end, this was the perfect way to say goodbye . Ocean swimming at noon and 5 p.m., a run or walk as early as we could manage it (meaning as early as I could manage to drag myself out of bed. S and S are inevitably up before me.) Plenty of wine and mah jongg and talking, on subjects ranging from work, family, how can we save the world, the causes of the Civil War, and can a gift ever be insulting? I drove home from South Lyme completely relaxed and renewed.

Our family week in Nantucket was also very relaxing--as relaxing as any vacation involving two adults, two teenagers, and two little kids could be--meaning, semi-relaxing. Pierre and I went to a wonderful restaurant, the Pearl, to celebrate our anniversary, and the rest of the time was spent biking, touring, sand-castle-building, and separating Libby and Lulu when things got too intense. The house we rented was much bigger than our regular house, a veritable beach palace! The people we rented it from were great--teachers on the island--really interesting people I hope we meet again. We had a very interesting conversation about the possiblility of doing a high school production of a P.G. Wodehouse play, with the genders reversed!

Besides being my honeymoon spot, Nantucket is also the place I happened to be when my mom died, and today is the anniversary of her death. This vacation was the first time I had been back to Nantucket since that day, so I had some bittersweet memories, but also happy thoughts of my mom, and a good feeling of closeness to her.

Ironically, given the subject of my previous post, my mom was always concerned with not appearing eccentric, although she called it other things, like "weird", "abnormal", "not like everyone else"--but I adored her for the very things that made her so unlike any other mothers I knew. She was an older mother, over forty when I was born, and she cried when people mistook me for her granddaughter--but I never thought of her as old at all. She was a working mother, when it wasn't common, and I was so proud of her work, as a special education teacher.
I loved that she was fearless, driving my brother and me across the country on "educational" trips, which included trying to find the Watts riots (thankfully she never located them), and driving into the private grounds of the White House (we were escorted out by the Secret Service). She was dramatic, funny, and made my childhood into a sort of miracle play, or Irish opera, maybe a soap opera sometimes. I miss her, and am proud to carry on her tradition of motherly eccentricity!

Here's a poem I read today that reminds me of the end of summer--the wistfulness and the exhilaration of the changing seasons, and passages of life.

Poem: "Long Afternoon at the Edge of Little Sister Pond" by Mary Oliver from Owls and Other Fantasies: Poems and Essays. © Beacon Press.
Long Afternoon at the Edge of Little Sister Pond

As for life
I'm humbled,
I'm without words
sufficient to say

how it has been hard as flint,
and soft as a spring pond
both of these
and over and over,

and long pale afternoons besides,
and so many mysteries
beautiful as eggs in a nest,
still unhatched

though warm and watched over
by something I have never seen--
a tree angel, perhaps,
of a ghost of holiness.

Every day I walk out into the world
To be dazzled, then to be reflective.
It suffices, it is all comfort--
along with human love,

dog love, water love, little-serpent love,
sunburst love, or love for that smallest of birds
flying among the scarlet flowers.
There is hardly time to think about

stopping, and lying down at last
to the long afterlife, to the tenderness
yet to come, when
time will brim over the singular pond, and become forever,

and we will pretend to melt away into the leaves.
As for death,
I can't wait to be the hummingbird,
can you?

http://www.poets.org/poet.php/prmPID/265

Graduation/trees/anniversaries: Eccentric musings

Libby had her pre-school graduation yesterday. It was wonderful--the kids sang and danced, then put on purple caps and gowns and received "diplomas". Libby was a little worried that she wouldn't be able to curtsy properly, but she did, and she was so charming and radiant in the performances that I couldn't stop smiling as I watched!

After graduation, and pizza, cookies, and ice cream, we drove home. As always, getting home was chaotic and nerve-jangling. I escaped to the back yard to lie in my hammock, my favorite refuge, just to settle myself down before tackling the second shift. I looked upward, and instead of my gorgeous green canopy, I stared into . . . nothingness. Blank sky.

Someone had cut down my tree. It was a dead tree. But it still had leaves, and many birds and animals had homes in it.

So I leapt up, screaming and swearing--not usually my style, but I was shocked and horrified.

Pierre expressed great annoyance at my outcry. Really, he was pissed off. He said I was eccentric, that only a crazy person would get so upset over a tree that was dead, and a safety hazard to boot, and that it was further confirmation that I am weird. This was really the crux of the matter, my eccentricity.

I truly don't think of myself that way at all. Unconventional maybe, creative, perhaps a bit immature, but eccentric? Weird? Crazy? No, I don't agree with that assessment, and I don't like it.

I asked my friend Ed if he thought I was eccentric. "Yes," he said, "but that's a good thing!"
Not reassured, I asked my friend Gail. "Yes," she said, "but so am I!"
I asked my friend Regina at work today, and she took a while to answer, so I knew before she said it . . . she thought I was eccentric too.

Last night I dreamed that I was watching a news report about the Catholic Church, and it was an expose of how they had built a school in an inner city neighborhood, and how the school had imposed its beliefs on the students, and not respected their culture . . . I stood up in my living room, where various friends and family had assembled, and said "I'm SICK of people putting down other people who try to do the right thing!!!!! No one else built a school!!! No one else provided a free education!!!! (this was a dream remember) So they made some mistakes!!!! Why not acknowledge that they tried to do something good?!!!?"

I thought when I woke up this was because of a long talk I had with my friend Katrina who is producing a documentary on the New England slave trade, about racism, white people's guilt over slavery. But now I think it is about the "eccentric"label too. Words are so powerful, and yet they can be so flexible. My eccentricity over the tree could be, in someone else's eyes, sensitivity. Why can't people be more positive? Why can't we all just get along?????? Someone said to me a few weeks ago, "There's a blessedness about you," and I didn't know what he meant exactly, but perhaps it was a more positive way of saying "you're so eccentric!" I like it much better!

So, the tree is gone (my neighbor and Pierre had apparently planned this together, but Pierre hadn't known when it was going to happen), and my 25th wedding anniversary is on the horizon. We're off to revisit the scene of the honeymoon, Nantucket, near Surfside Beach. For my feelings on the eve of this anniversary trip, see the cover of the August 28, 2006 New Yorker. So appropos, if you color the kids' hair black, and give them ponytails.

Happy Anniversary to me, goodbye to my tree, congratulations to my beautiful Libby!

Lulu/Leilei

Lulu already has an exceedingly long name: Eleanor Grace XiLe Tripp Spy, plus the most complicated naming history of anyone in our family. First we called her Lele (like the French article, doubled), then we changed to Lulu (which we found adorable), now she wishes to be called Leilei (like the Hawaiian flower garland)!

Ever since her reunion visit with XingXing (who called her Leilei) Lulu/Leilei has insisted on being called what apparently was her actual nickname in China. "This-a not-a Lulu", she says, pointing at herself. "This-a Leilei." She says Leilei slowly, and emphatically, as if to a very slow learner (me, her mom. Who does, in fact, tend to be a slow learner.)

So what's in a name, anyway? Shakespeare says a rose would be a rose no matter what . . . but Anne of Green Gables said something else, something like a rose would NOT be as lovely if it were called a skunk cabbage . . . I shall have to look it up, but that's the sense of it, and I am on Anne's wavelength all the way.

Lulu's (hence, I shall refer to her in writing as Lulu, but probably as Leilei in life, until I can convince her otherwise!) names have enormous significance to me, and, apparently, to her. Her Chinese name, XiLe, means "hoping for happiness". It is such a lovely name that I regret that I didn't keep it as her first name. And Leilei, I think, represents identity to Lulu. It is what she calls herself, what the first people who loved and cared for her called her. It is her only treasure, what she brought with her from China.

I thought after the fact that I should never have given Lulu another name. "Eleanor" was a hotly contested choice, and was basically the only name I liked that the rest of the family tolerated. It means, I think, "shining light", and my girl Lulu is all about the energy of a sunbean, or a flash of lightning. It also happens to be the name of a powerful queen, Eleanor of Aquitaine, a woman I wouldn't mind my daughter emulating in some respects! So my name for her is important, too; my way of claiming her for my own, and a way of wishing her a certain kind of future.

Then, "Grace". That's after my mom, of course, whose middle name it was. Kit has her first name, "Rose" as a middle name. Libby's middle name is "Audrey", after my beloved aunt. So these names are important--handles the girls can grab hold of, to keep them steady, and remind them of strong women who went before them, and, as my mom wrote to me, will love them "from wherever I am"!

All the kids got stuck with "Tripp" as one of their middle names. Again, an act of claiming. I'm the only one in the family with a different last name, and I like to be linked with them that way.

"Lulu"--well, it's a nickname, and like my old nickname, Skyppi, it may have served its purpose. I can't give it up too easily, though--I had it printed, at great expense, on all the adoption announcments! And it suits her so well! Maybe someday she will agree . . .
For now, her name is Eleanor XiLe, and she calls herself Leilei, but everyone knows her as Lulu.

Anyone who wants to help me find the Anne Shirley quote can check online:
www.literature.org/authors/montgomery-lucy-maud/anne-of-green-gables
(I think) (my links don't always link! where is kevo when I need help???!!!!)

Slowing summer down . . .

Alice and the Hatter:
Alice: What a funny watch! It tells the day of the month, and doesn't tell what o'clock it is!
Hatter: Why should it? Does your watch tell you what year it is?
Alice: Of course not, but that's because it stays the same year for such a long time together.
Hatter: . . . which is just the case with mine.

You all know this: Time management is a problem for me. I don't like watching the clock, don't like watching the calendar . . . don't wear a watch, and recently moved my kitchen clock to a somewhat more out-of-the-way location so I wouldn't catch sight of it without trying. But even in my peculiar wonderland, time passes. Summer's slipping away, and though I try to hold to the concept of the astronomical end of summer, Sept. 21, years of academic conditioning have led me to sense summer's psychological end, during these precious last weeks of August.

I have a checklist for summer, and time is running out.
On the plus side, I have been to the beach, and been swimming in the ocean several times, though not nearly enough.
The little summer house (glorified tent) is set up, and I have spent many pleasant hours reading in the yard, in the evening.
I've spent good time in my hammock, my absolute favorite spot at home.

But . . . I missed Shakespeare on the Common this year--first time ever, haven't been to Jacob's Pillow yet, haven't made much of a dent in my "summer reading" list--soon to be converted to my "fall reading" list, haven't been to a Red Sox game.

Feeling urgency about filling up summer seems counterproductive--summer should be about relaxing, being outdoors as much as possible, preferably with friends and family, watching the Meteor Showers, hugging trees--Therefore, I resolve to celebrate the rest of August appropriately. For example, by trying NOT to fit too much into a day, or into a season.

Wishing you all a relaxing end-of-summer! Let us wander, sip, look off into space . . .
And eat popsicles and ice cream (check out Christina's in Cambridge!) www.christinasicecream.com

And buy a pie at Allandale Farm. www.allandalefarm.com

Swing on the swings at Milennium Park. http://kitingusa.com

Drink ice coffee! Ok, I'll stop now . . .

Thinking I'm too old for this . . .

Invariably, people (as opposed to friends-who-know-me) , upon learning that I recently adopted a 4 year old, blurt out some variation of "you must be crazy!" Meaning, I think, that at 53 I am too old to want to parent a little kid. One commuting acquaintance, when I told her I was planning to adopt Lulu, actually said "but isn't there an age limit????!!!" (to which I wittily replied, "Oh, I'm actually much younger than I look!) The lady sitting next to me on the train snorted.

But I digress. My response when people ask "Why would you want to do this (parenting) all over again?" is to ask, in what I hope is a tactful way, "Why wouldn't I?" Life is 10 times more fun and exciting when you're exploring it with a child.

Except when it's not. Yesterday Pierre and I took the little ones to the Newport Folk Festival. This was all my idea. Last weekend we had gone to the Lowell Folk Festival, and had a grand time: lots of good music, good food, fun train rides to and from venues, free and plentiful crafts and games for kids. So I thought the fun would continue in Newport . . .

Wrong. While the day was clear and lovely and we did get to hear excellent sets by Madeleine Peyroux, the Meters, and the Indigo Girls, the whole thing was experienced through a miasma of complaining, requests to revisit the portapotties, open rebellion, and physical torture perpetrated by lemonade-guzzling Thing One and Thing Two (my new names for Libby and Lulu!)

To placate them, I fed them ice cream, allowed them to get insanely expensive painted "tattoos",
played endless games of Animal Rummy . . . finally, desperately, I decided I'd let them do anything they wanted, short of hurting themselves or others, so I could watch and listen to the Indigo Girls. I gave them a whole box of graham crackers. They fell upon in, ripping it open, like a scene from Lord of the Flies. Once they realized I wasn't going to intervene, they crammed 4 and 5 layers of entire cracker slabs in their mouths. Libby sat on my lap, facing me, trying out different ways of chewing the crackers into a foul paste. I sat there, stoicly singing along with the I.G. Only when she started letting the paste dribble onto my clothing did I react, and by then the show was over. We began the long march to the shuttle buses to the parking lot. I felt I had aged 10 years over the course of the day.

On the way home, they fell asleep in the car. Pierre carried Libby, I carried Lulu, and we gratefully deposited them in their beds, still in their sundresses. Looking at them, so angelic when they're sleeping, I was so happy to be doing it over again.

But when next summer comes around, I want everyone who cares about me to remind me I do NOT want to go to the Newport Folk Festival with small children EVER AGAIN!!!!!

Lulu goes to school

Today was Lulu's first full day at the Acorn Preschool. Thank God she is finally in an air-conditioned place. The weather here is terribly hot.

Now Lulu, Libby, and I will commute together. What fun! This morning's highlights included riding on an un-airconditioned bus, holding both girls on my lap, at their insistence. When I asked the driver if we could open a window, he told me they are bolted shut! HUH? Is this safe? As the bus ride approached sauna-like conditions, I noted the one poster on the bus:
"Our buses are too cool for words!
We have responded to our customers' requests for comfortable conditions.
If this bus is not cool, please call customer service, blah blah blah"

Dialing my cell phone with sweaty fingers, balancing the slippery, because also sweating girls, I called customer service, and got a busy signal.
An elderly Chinese woman kept fanning me with her fan, which helped me avoid passing out.
Libby and Lulu ran through all the Chinese folk songs they know, at top volume, enchanting the elderly fanning lady, but annoying everyone else.

We staggered off the bus, made our way to the Orange Line.

It was cool! There were seats! Immediately the girls began squabbling over identical plastic bags of Cinnamon Toast Crunch. "thisa mine!" (Lulu) "No, this one is mine!!!!" (Libby). Lulu
smacked me, and Libby kicked me repeatedly as I tried to keep them separated, as we traveled to New England Medical Center. (Please, no parenting tips. I know all the right things to do, they just don't work under these adverse conditions. )

Lulu arrived 1/2 hour late at school. I arrived 40 minutes late at work. Sigh.

Lulu updates . . .

Lulu's good luck continues!
the most miraculous thing yet is her reunion with her dear friend from the Behai orphanage! When Lulu's caretakers brought her to us in Nanning, they told us about her good friend XingXing, who had been adopted several months earlier by an American family. We had wanted to find them ever since, and . . . we did!!!! Even more wonderful, they live in Conneticut--they could have been anywhere, but they are relatively close. And more amazing still, their adoption group was meeting in the Boston area this past weekend, so we got to meet them, and Xing Xing and Lulu had a very special reunion! Lulu hung back at first, but soon was eating breakfast happily with "my Xing Xing." Of course, Lulu wept piteously when we left, calling for Xing Xing . . . but we promised her we would meet again, hopefully soon! We're going to plan an excursion to Mystic, which will be a good half-way point for both families to meet.

Translation of Lulu's special book continues . . . it appears to be a diary of her days at school, in the "Little Sisters" class. Much of Lulu's behavior--her desire to keep things and special people to herself, love of mischief, and opposition to things she doesn't want to do--is very recognizable! It's good to know that these things are part of her temperment, and not traumatic reactions to her adoption. Xing Xing has a book too, so these books must have been something the teacher prepared for them in preparation for their adoptions. Again, lucky, lucky Lulu.

Finally, Lulu has been baptized! She wore a gorgeous white qipao (traditional silk Chinese dress) which Kit searched high and low for in Chinatown. White is not a good color for children to wear, according to Chinese tradition, but Kit, a tenacious shopper, finally found one at Kim's "other"store in the Prudential. Libby, not to outdone in the fashion department, wore a gold qipao. Everyone else looked equally smart.

The baptism went well, and Lulu cooperated fully, beaming as Father Tony doused her head with water. Filled with the Holy Spirit, her behavior improved markedly throughout the day, and Father Tony gave us a bottle to sprinkle on her when needed.

thank you , thank you, to Lulu's godmom Gail, goddad Uncle Peter, and C.W. (Christian Witness, or as we smart-alecks say, Christian Witless) Sass! Note two godmothers! Again Lulu lucks out!!!! They are both awesome, smart, fun, strong women, and probably the two most nurturing moms I know! Uncle Peter is no slouch either--a great dad, and nephew-in-law. Thank you also to the dear friends and family who celebrated with us, in person, or in spirit!

Don'a bitch! and other Luluisms; also, what I did on my summer vacation

Lulu is learning English quickly, but so far she speaks with a faintly Italian accent. As in "don'a pinch!" "don'a hit!", and her all-purpose phrase, a combination of don't hit/pinch/mess with me: "don'a bitch!" I believe, and hope, that she is merging the sounds of pinch and touch. She also says "scusa me!" for "excuse me", and "thassa my!" for "that's mine." She is concise and emphatic in her expression, good qualities!

My "vacation" is over, and I am back to work. It was lovely being home. I especially enjoyed the freedom from feeling pressured to go to sleep! When I'm working, I feel I am rushing through the evening, trying to get to bed by the official deadline. So I can get up on time, of course. Why doesn't it work???? Already, I am in trouble for being late to the office.

Highlights of my summer vacation, besides the obvious ones of Lulu and China, include:

June 26: A trip to Concord to attend the service for Hawthorne's wife and daughter, Sophia and Una, who were brought there from London to be re-interred in the Hawthorne gravesite. After Nathaniel's death, Sophia and their three children went to live in London, where Sophia and Una died and were buried. Hawthorne's youngest daughter, Rose, converted to Catholicism and founded the Dominican Sisters of Hawthorne, and somehow the Dominican order became responsible for the gravesite. Recently, a tree planted next to their graves fell over, damaging Una's grave. When the sisters were notified that the grave would need extensive and costly repairs, they decided to bring Sophia and Una's bodies back to Concord.

So, of course, being a total Hawthorne freak, a firm believer in poetic justice, and a seeker of examples of eternal love, I had to go. I brought Gail and Lulu along.

It was a beautiful, meaningful ceremony, attended by Hawthorne's descendants, Dominican nuns, and fans like me, with readings from Nathaniel's and Sophia's love letters, poetry by Thoreau, and musical selections from the period. Also, fabulous food. I sat there, basking in the language and the music, with my beautiful Lulu on my lap, and thought happily how much like good fiction life can be: the eternal love affair between two artists, their reunion after death via the intersession of Catholic nuns, a 4 year old Chinese girl transported from tropical Nanning to a literary welcome home for a 19th century family . . .

Another glorious highlight: on July 4, visiting my very first friend, Gigi, and her family, including my gorgeous goddaughter Maria, Gigi's husband Ben, and Gigi's mom Marge, who was my Girl Scout leader, my hostess at countless sleepovers, lunches, "happenings" . . . and the person who introduced me, via Gigi, to Little Women, The Fairy Doll, and many other wonderful books--
while Libby and Lulu ran around and around the house, we talked, and watched the World Cup match between Germany and Italy. We were rooting for Italy! What a game! Now on to Sunday, when Italy goes against France. Hmmmmm . . . who to support???? For family's sake, Vive la France!

For more about the Hawthornes, look at Megan Marshall's The Peabody Sisters.

What I learned on my summer vacation, so far . . .

My friend Lisa and I celebrated the solstice by attending a beer tasting at Blanchard's in West Roxbury, for beer is truly the taste of summer. Though we have attended several wine tastings at Blanchards, this was our first beer tasting. It seemed a little strange at first, drinking tiny cups of beer one after the other, and trying to talk seriously about yeast and hops and fermentation . . . but I soon got used to it, and tasted enthusiastically, though I ended up buying only a sampler from my favorite beer-brewers, Smuttynose. Here's what I learned from the guy at the Smuttynose table: the history of the IPAs, and the dog on Brown Dog Ale is named Olive, and belongs to the brewery's owner. www.smuttynose.com


I resumed my Chinese studies this week. My extremely patient teacher, Hongchen Wang, www.newenglandchinese.com met with me to review my study of Mandarin, and develop a plan of study for the future. We decided that learning phrases to use with Lulu will be an excellent focus, so every week I will note things I want to say to her, try to translate them, and then confirm the translations with Hongchen. I've come up with many, many things I want to say: "too hot!" "that's sharp!" "that's dangerous!" "be careful!", "don't make a mess!" "clean up!", "be nice!", "don't hit . . . bite . . .hurt . . . touch", "dirty!", and "put that back!"

I had my first class today in a course called Behind the Scenes at Westport Rivers Winery. www.westportrivers.com In the six class meetings we will find out about growing and harvesting grapes, making wine, vineyard operation . . . plus we get to taste lots of wine! Today we talked about terroir, the sort of gestalt of wine, the interaction of location, climate, soil, grape varieties . . . everyone else in the class is like the people in Sideways--they know all about wine already--but I love being a beginner, and I love being in Westport, and especially on a farm. It's in the genes, y'know, since generations of my family have lived and farmed this lovely landscape. Today, standing in the vineyard, looking down at the Westport River, I felt so comfortable, and so content. I thought to myself, "This really is where I belong." My own terroir. And when I walked back from the vineyard, one of the other women in the class spotted Libby and Lulu playing under the trees (Gail was kind enough--saintly!--to entertain them for the two hours I was in class), and said "Look at those cute little girls!" and I said, "those are MY girls!"--at that moment I felt very happy, and grateful, and blessed indeed. I wish you all a beautiful summer!

Cow hunting, cat shaving, and more!

Happy Bloomsday, everyone!

The month is speeding by, as Junes usually do. I'm enjoying being at home, getting to know Lulu, and taking care of business that I have put off till this blessed time of "family leave." Thus, the cat has been shaved (by the no-nonsense folks at Dolittle's Pet Grooming, Jamaica Plain: anyone needing pet washing/brushing/shaving, accompanied by a stern lecture regarding the importance of regular pet grooming would do well to consult them: www.dolittles.net)

Along those lines, the dog has a new vet, long-delayed dental work has been endured, etc.

And, as Junes usually do, the month has been chockful of celebrations: congratulations and best wishes to Kit's pals Bessie and Lizzie, her boyfriend Kevin, and my beloved former Girl Scout and co-leader, Jane!

Lulu's fourth birthday was June 8!!!! we had a small (but not low-key) party, featuring a cake from Kit's bakery, and some gifts. Lulu loved all her gifts so much that we only gave her some of them and put the others away for some other occasion, lest she be overwhelmed with pleasure and excitement.

Another June theme: cow-hunting in Boston. Libby, Lulu, and I have had a grand time looking at the life-size cow sculptures that have appeared throughout the city. We now know they are going to be auctioned off to benefit the Jimmy Fund, but at first we only knew that cows were appearing in Copley Square, on Boston Common . . . We had a great afternoon of free entertainment, walking through Copley Square and seeing the cows up close. There are over 100 cows throughout the city, so we have a whole season of fun ahead. My favorite cow so far:
the Light Within (for Virginia Woolf), in front of the BPL. You can see her, and other cows at http://boston.cowparade.com

I'm going to try to add photos from China to the appropriate blog entries . . . wish me luck, and check back entries to see if it worked . . . good night!

Lulu update:

Just like big sister did, Lulu has giardia, a common parasitic disease. Both girls had watched , riveted, as I prepared the stool sample--not quite as yucky a procedure as you might imagine, but yucky enough. Libby was quite excited that it resulted in a diagnosis that will require Lulu to take bad-tasting medicine.

Lulu has met her gastroenterologist, Dr. Maureen Jonas. She is Libby's liver doc, too. Dr. Jonas said Lulu looks very healthy, her liver functions are normal, and, like Libby, she simply has to have her blood checked every six months or so. Whoohoo!

For the past few mornings I've been meeting with Libby's wonderful teacher, Lai Chan, who is translating "Lulu's book" (the hand-written and illustrated journal we were given when we met Lulu for the first time) for me. We're trying to work on one page at a time, with Lai Chan translating, and me writing down what she says. So far we've learned that the book was lovingly put together by Lulu's teacher, whose family name, like Lulu's, is Guo. I think this indicates she must be a "graduate" of the Behai orphanage, now working there. It is going to be fascinating, learning about Lulu's life in Behai. I feel profoundly grateful to have this book--a true treasure.

Slowly, slowly, I'm waking up to my former life, Before Lulu and Nanning. I've been able to talk and email with some friends, and even had the pleasure of a delightful evening out with Anne, Lou, and their beautiful daughters. It was such a treat participating in interesting adult conversation, and at the same time, enjoying the company of four adorable and spirited (but impeccably behaved!) Chinese girls (my two, and A & L's two).

So I feel I'm on the way back to life as I knew it--with the added joy of my little Lulu!
Good night!

Bu cu Lulu

Bu cu means, I think "don't cry" in Mandarin. This is what I say to Lulu whenever she cries, which is whenever I try to make her do something she doesn't want to do . . . especially go to bed.

I don't really know what language Lulu speaks. I was told, via Matthew, who got it from the orphanage nannys, that she spoke Cantonese. But when I brought her to Libby's school, where most of the staff and students speak Cantonese as their first language, she didn't respond to questions or conversation in Cantonese. Libby's teacher Lai Chan said she seemed to respond more to Mandarin. I have heard Lulu sing a bit in Mandarin, but when I speak Mandarin to her, she doesn't seem to get it, though she finds it amusing. Of course, this was a frequent response when I attempted to speak Mandarin in China!

So I conclude that Lulu probably speaks a regional dialogue, but may have been learning Mandarin in school. At any rate, we're developing our own Lulu lexicon--"bu hao" provokes peals of laughter, and repeated shrieks of "bu hao, bu hao!" --I tried to use this as short-hand for "don't do that!" but instead it has become a huge joke. Boo-boos are also referred to as "bu haos", and Lulu herself is often addressed as Miss Bu Hao.

In English, Lulu can say Mama, Bebe (means Libby), Tigger, Daddy . . . but usually she hollers "Ayah!" whenever she needs help. This means "Nanny" or "Auntie", so I have stopped answering to it. So after a few "Ayah!"s, she will yell "Mama!" in an equally imperious tone. Her absolute mastery of one English word, "No!", is pretty age-appropriate, I guess.

Meanwhile Auntie Gail and I spend most lunch hours trying to learn Lulu's language. We were working on Cantonese, but have given it up, and are now listening to Pimsleur's Basic Mandarin series. Lulu listens along with us, repeating phrases like "Qingwen, ni hui shuo putongua ma?" (Excuse me, do you speak Chinese?) and chuckling to herself.

Goodnight, and zai jian!

We're home!

When last I typed, we were in the Sino-Soviet Hotel. Then off to the Beijing Airport AGAIN, this time to fly to Newark.

Ok, this is the most amazing thing: Libby slept the entire flight! This is the most she has EVER slept at one time, even as a baby! Continental Airlines had Pierre and Lulu seated in one place, and Libby and me in another--(actually, they originally had us all seated separately, going and returning, and we had to cause a ruckus to even get to sit with the kids at all), so I really lucked out, and got to read, doze, etc.

We were met at the airport by Kit, Kevin, and Kevin's dad, Gerry, who kindly volunteered to drive us all, bag and baggage, back to Dow Road. Gerry told us how he's traveling to Ireland in a few weeks--he's been there several times, and has family there, and he made it so inviting that I believe we will have to travel there someday . . . but not right away. Right now we have to settle back in, and get Lulu acclimated to her new environment.

Lulu acclimation report: On the not-so-great part: Last night, she didn't like her new bed. She did take immediately to Kit, and insisted on sleeping in Kit's bed, with her. Of course, Libby insisted on joining them. After much thrashing, Kit noticed Libby trying to quietly smother Lulu with a pillow, so Libby had to be transferred to another bed. After hours of bed-switching, everyone fell asleep, around 4 a.m. or so.

On the plus side: she wore underpants today, for the first time since she joined the family! She also picked up a broom, and tried to clean the place up! A fruitless task, I could tell her, but I am glad she is ambitious!

1 in the morning on our first full day home: Lulu is sleeping now, after hours of cajoling, in her own bed. Libby conked out early in the afternoon, so will probably get her second wind in a few hours. I'm going to go to bed while peace reigns, and while there's still a vacant spot. Good night!

Ni hao from Beijing, I think . . .

Hmmm . . . we left Guangzhou yesterday . . . I think . . .
I do know we got up, packed, had a late lunch, drove en masse to the American embassy, and did the final paperwork for the adoptions--so Lulu is now an official Tripp-Spy; also, an American citizen, due to my holding my hand up while a bureaucrat said something official.

After that, it all gets hazy.
We drove to the airport, amid thunder and lightning. Our flight was delayed. We spent several hours at the airport, playing with modeling clay I had cleverly packed for just such an occasion. We were surrounded by curious and friendly Chinese travelers, and I got to practice my Mandarin. I gave one guy a Harvard tee-shirt, which I had cleverly packed for just such an occasion, and he gave me something--I don't know what, because the plane was boarding, so I threw his gift in my bag, and ran as fast as one can run hauling a kid and assorted heavy bags and parcels.

Note to self: never, ever again travel with more than one carry-on. Never. And never again buy any souvenir or trinket larger than a pearl.

Ok, then I think we sat in the plane, with no air conditioning, for oh, two or three hours. Then they said the flight was cancelled. Then we sat there for about half an hour. Then they said ok, we're going. (Pierre may have to edit this sequence of events later, as I am not good with details at the best of times, and I'm now NOT at my best.)

So we flew for about, oh three hours, then they said we couldn't land at Beijing, the weather was too bad, and we would land some other Godforsaken place, I think it is called Tianzhou. (note to self: look up someday.)

Then we took a bus from the plane to the airport, and sat there for awhile. Then we were going to go to another hotel to wait for a few hours, but no! then we were going to Beijing again! So we took a bus out to the plane, and got on, and after awhile we got to Beijing. Maybe around 6:00 A.M. or so. Then we waited in the Beijing airport, and wheeled the kids around on luggage carts for, ummmm, maybe an hour. Because by this point my cleverly packed bag of tricks was empty. Then a bus came and brought us to the Sino-Swiss Hotel. We took showers, we ate breakfast, I went to the business center to write this, and here I am! I think. I'm really not sure, it all seems like a queasy sort of nightmare!

So, I think the next time I blog it will be from the U.S.A. We are scheduled to fly out of Beijing to Newark, then on to Boston. What a long, strange trip it's been! Zai jian for now!

Free time

In our last episode, I was sick, and denied meds. After blogging last night, I sought out the 24 hour hotel doc, who examined me and gave me antibiotics, an expectorant, and cough syrup. Woohoo! Thus, I am much better today! Thank God for 5 star hotels!

This is truly the best hotel I will ever stay in: check out the website www.whiteswanhotel.com to see for yourself! Do I feel guilty living, even temporarily, in the lap of luxury, while less than a mile away, children only a little older than Libby sell flowers on the street outside restaurants at all hours of night? Well, yes--but I was surely grateful for the amenities last night.


Today we woke up, had the enormous White Swan breakfast, and hit the streets of Guangzhou to buy Chinese clothing for Lulu and Libby, to prepare for the traditional "red couch" photo for which all adopted Chinese babies/kids must pose, however unhappily. We got two gorgous purple silk outfits, traditional shoes, and a plethora of other "souveniers"--trinkets, gee-gaws, what-have-yous. After that we went to the pool, then changed the kids into their new outfits.

The red couch photo op was crazy, with crying babies, frenzied parents, and, in the middle of it all, camera-phobic Libby. Somehow the pictures got taken.

Dinner was pizza on an evening boat cruise along the Pearl River. Guangzhou at night is splendidly alight with neon--some of it very creative and dazzling. It was a nice way to end our day--our last full day and night in this city.

Libby and Mom time was spent at the game room. Libby has become quite an air hockey ace!

Tomorrow we visit the American consulate, then fly to Beijing, arriving late at night. We are staying in a hotel close to the airport, and will fly back home the next day. So our trip is nearly at an end.

Poor Lulu is in for an awful shock, when she finally reaches her permanent home, and realizes it is a far cry from the hotel rooms in which she's been living. I know I will suffer a reverse culture shock, too--I'll be driving more than I'm walking, cooking and cleaning instead of just eating, and dealing with people who don't invariably treat me to warm smiles and courteous speech!

But it will be wonderful to see all our family and friends--I have missed you all. I can't wait to introduce you to our darling Lulu. Good night!

De-briefing and decompressing in Guangzhou

Yesterday, Sunday, was our last day in Nanning. Matthew took us for one more early hunting expedition at the Senior Market, where I bought more pearls. I have surely purchased more jewelry on this trip than in my entire life up to this point! Can't help it, as pearls will forever remind me of my little pearl from Beihai.

After that, we had a wild ride to the airport--wilder even than usual because our driver overslept. We said sad good-bys to Matthew, and I cried my traditional cry as we took off from Nanning Airport. I promised Lulu we will come back someday, and make the trip to Behai next time. (She was asleep, so missed my weepy spiel) Our flight was short and uneventful. A very nice guide named Elvin met us at the airport, and escorted us to the fabulous White Swan Hotel, where we rejoined our original travel group from Wide Horizons. The McCormacks, (Mr Ono, as Libby calls Terry--because at first she said Oh no! whenever she saw him, and Pamie), and Pierre, Libby, and me were the only families who went to Nanning--the other 12 families went to a different province after Beijing. It is sort of bizarre trouping about in a huge gang again. Libby likes it, though, because two other older American kids are traveling with the group. The three of them hang out in the back of the tour bus, always the coolest place to be!

Here I should say that I am uncharacteristically, and hideously SICK with some sort of viral thing, so my impressions of Guangzhou so far may be a tad distorted.

Last night we had the only truly horrible meal of our trip. Actually, my food was pretty good, but for some unknown reason, we HAD to eat at a restaurant which had lost power. Therefore, they had to cook each dish separately, over an open flame stove. Thus, as they cooked each dish, it was served to all who had ordered it. One of the babies, Grace, had her first birthday, so her dad had bought a cake. This was served first, as it required no cooking. Then everyone who had rice was served, then everyone who had noodles, etc, etc. Also, the only light was candlelight. Also, there was no air conditioning. Also, the floor was wet, probably because of the drenching rain which has been falling since Typhoon Pearl. So . . . it was like eating dinner in a darkened sauna. For me, quite miserable.

I stumbled back to the hotel, filled out forms for the counselate,begged off Libby and Mom time, and went to sleep.

Woke up not much better, but hauled myself out of bed to sample the much raved over White Swan breakfast, and it WAS worth it--delicious, everything you could want, Western and Chinese. Then we walked in the rain to get the required medical exams for the babies. Lulu was unfazed by the poking and prodding, and was pronounced adorable by everyone. One doctor was concerned that she couldn't talk, because Lulu was uncharacteristically silent, but I assured her she could and does talk, quite a lot!

After this, I begged Dr. Steve, the physician traveling with the group, to examine me, and hopefully prescribe drugs!
Alas, after the exam he told me it is "just" a bad cold and bronchitis, and basically, to suck it up! Dismayed,I told Pierre to take the kids to the White Swan's playroom, and I slept for a couple of hours. After that I felt well enough to go with the group to the Six Banyan Trees Buddhist temple, where the babies were blessed by monks. I loved being there five years ago with Libby, and was so happy to return. Just like last time, I lit incense and prayed at the Mother Goddess' shrine (I don't know how to write her name; it is pronounce Gui-lin). I wanted to stay longer, but this is the problem with trouping about in a gang--its always rush back to the bus!

Then we went to the same jade factory showroom I visited with Libby on my last trip, and of course, I had to buy lots of jade! Because jade reminds me of my beautiful treasure from Anqing City. I did my famous negotiating (Matthew has taught me well) and believe I did quite well--bracelets for the girls, and two for myself, including one special one that I knew had to be mine as soon as I put it on.

On to dinner at a restaurant called, interestingly, the Black Swan! Good Cantonese food.

Back to the hotel, tub, story and bed for Lulu. Libby and Mom time tonight was a game of checkers in--where else?--the White Swan's game room. Libby also played air hockey with her beloved Jazz (who turned up here today), and enjoyed some ice cream. I had a pina colada while I lost (only partly on purpose) our checkers game.

I have heard rumors that cough syrup and even perhaps stronger drugs are available from the guest clinic in the hotel! Stay tuned. Till then, good night!

Last day in Nanning

Today we spent our last full day in this beautiful city. Matthew brought us to the Guangxi Provincial Museum, which exhibits artifacts from the 25 or so ethnic minority groups who live in the province. Actually Guangxi is not a province, but a Zhuang Autonomous Region, Zhuang being the largest of the minority groups iin the region. We saw huge bronze drums, made over 2,000 years ago, as well as crafts and clothing from the various minority cultures. Behind the museum is a wonderful garden, which contains replicas of some of the disticntive types of architecture associated with some of these cultures, including a wooden rain-and-wind bridge, typical of the Dong nationality. They believe that excellence in workmanship and design, especially in architecture, will ensure a good afterlife. The bridge is so beautiful, and so skillfully made, that no nails are used. I purchased a little model of this bridge, which I must now lug around with me (in a special wooden suitcase) for the rest of the trip.

After a quick stop at our favorite Nanning hang-out--yup, Walmart--where we purchased more cute, cheap kids' clothing, we followed our routine--lunch, nap for Lulu and Pierre, pool time for Libby and me. Alas, I am uncharacteristically under the weather, so sat by the pool today, while Libby swam with her idol, Jazz.

It was Pamie McCormack's birthday, so after dinner, we joined Terry, Pamie, and the adorable Caroline for birthday cake. Then Libby and I took our evening stroll, followed by our last visit (this trip, anyway) to the lounge bar.

Tomorrow we'll say good-by to Matthew, and to the city where we met our precious Lulu for the first time. I will miss the friendly people here, the bicycles and the motor-bikes, the sun parasols, the greenery and flowers everywhere--Nanning is a garden of a city. I will feel sorry to take Lulu away from this place, where so many different kinds of people have lived peacefully for so long, and where differences are respected, even celebrated. I regret we couldn't visit Lulu's beach city, Beihai, where she was born, and lived for nearly 4 years, her whole life. Next time. I promised Libby we'd come back to China, and I promise the same to Lulu, aka Eleanor Grace Xile Tripp Spy. Good night!

I should pack tonight, but think I will go to bed, and try to get better, in time for our flight tomorrow. Good night!

Dream Time in Nanning

After breakfast, Libby and I headed to the senior market to do some more hunting. I bought some jade, after some negotiation, and was quite pleased with my purchases. Libby and I stopped to talk to many people in the market and on the street, giving me plenty of opportunities to practice my Mandarin, and to take some nice pictures.

We hurried back to meet Matthew for our trip to the zoo, with the McCormack family, with whom we've been traveling. They have adopted an adorable little girl named Caroline, who is 3. The Nanning Zoo is beautifully landscaped, and has many relatively well-maintained exhibits. We saw white tigers, lions, ostriches, zebras, and some very entertaining monkeys. We also saw performances of bears, elephants, and dolphins. Many school groups were at the zoo, and we had fun saying "hello" to the kids. It was very hot today, but Matthew had arranged for us to ride in an oversized golf cart sort of thing; it was a pretty comfortable way to see the zoo.

After the zoo, Pierre, Libby, Lulu, and I took a cab to . . . Pizza Hut! One of two in Nanning. It was quite a classy joint--we were greeted warmly at the entrance, and waited on by about 5 uniformed staff. The pizza was--well, like Pizza Hut--but the decor and ambiance were very modern Chinese. After lunch we tried to walk back to the hotel, but got a little lost, so got to see more of life in Nanning. In a park we stopped to listen to men playing banjo-like instruments--one man using a mah jongg tile as a pick. Speaking of mah jongg, I disrupted a game by asking to take a photograph. The guys told me no, but I whined and wheedled, and took it anyway. As soon as I did, they scrambled the tiles all over again--and the picture didn't come out anyway--I guess they cursed it with their magic mah jongg powers.

Back at the hotel, Libby and I hit the pool--Jazz was there, so Libby was happy! Then we went to dinner with the McCormacks and Matthew at Food Street, which is the place we ate on our first night in Nanning. Remember the duck beaks? With Matthew ordering for us, our dinner was much better!

Matthew had arranged for Pierre and me to get massages from a young woman who is a nurse at Nanning Hospital. She was an excellent masseuse, although my enjoyment of my massage was somewhat tempered by the girls' standing next to me for a good part of it, Libby actually climbing on the bed for a good close look, then playing her electronic game next to my head. When it was Pierre's turn, I took Libby out for our regular Mom and Libby time--a walk in the warm Nanning evening, followed by drinks in the bar--Sprite for her, Irish coffee for me.

Over the course of the day and evening, Matthew talked about his work with Girls Global Education Fund, where he started out as a volunteer, but now works as paid staff. (His adoption work is just a parttime gig.) You can read about it at www.ggef.org Basically, they provide scholarships to girls who wouldn't be able to attend school otherwise. We also talked about the phenomenon of international adoption, how Matthew feels the availability of abandoned girls grew out of government policy, and how Chinese mothers are misrepresented in the U.S. as heartless women who "throw their babies away." He said he knows that, on the contrary, such decisions are painful, often made under pressure, and result in lifetimes of heartache for birth mothers. He feels his work with adoptive families builds friendships, increases understanding, and creates a bridge for adopted Chinese girls to explore their heritage as they grow up. Matthew is so much more than the "cool guide" I thought he was at the beginning of the week--he is that, but he has a very serious, humanitarian mission.

Also today, he talked about the economic growth in China, especially in the cities, and how it is a "dream time", when life is very good for many, but without any idea of how it can be sustained, it seems like a dream, from which people will someday have to wake up. This week in Nanning has seemed very dreamlike to me, as well--so our toast tonight was "to dream time in Nanning." In a few days, when we've said good-by to this green city, it will all seem like a lovely dream, filled with palm trees, friendly people, .70 cab rides, and relaxing days with our beautiful Chinese daughters.

Good night!

The most wonderful girls born in China!

This morning, after breakfast, Matthew the Guide arrived to take us to Green Mountain Park. This is a major tourist attraction of Nanning, and it was truly a beautiful place. It is a big park, and we saw only a small part of it, including the Palm Arboretum and the pagoda tower, from which we got what Matthew calls a "bird's view" of Nanning City. I wish we could have spent the whole day there, but our outing ended with a great lunch in a spectacular setting, at a very traditional Chinese tea garden house. We ate on a terrace overlooking a lovely lake. Matthew said that "slowness" is a Nanning ideal--that you should be eat slowly, to enjoy your meal, and walk slowly, to enjoy the sights and sounds, so that a lunch at such a "house in the wood" is a great pleasure. After lunch, we fed the carp in the pond. It was actually sort of disturbing to me, as there were so many carp crowding around us, they were practically stacked on top of one another. They were beautiful, but horrible in their appetite. Of course, everyone else thought it was great fun!

After lunch, we headed back to the hotel, and I took the girls to the pool. Libby's idol, Jazz from Chicago showed up, and Lulu even went into the water and played in the pool with Pierre.. She seems to be a bit of a Daddy's girl! This suits Libby fine!

After a while, though, Lulu had a bit of a meltdown. She began crying, and I thought she was just tired and/or cold, but when I tried to take her back to our room, she became very agitated and cried bitterly. She kept saying things that I couldn't understand at all, so I asked the locker-room attendant if she understood, but alas, the attendant spoke Mandarin only. She did try to calm Lulu, saying "gasou wo", etc. (tell me what's wrong), but either Lulu didn't understand, or wouldn't say. I felt helpless to comfort her, not a good feeling. Eventually she calmed down, and we walked back to the hotel. I bought her an Apple piano to cheer her up. This is a truly bizarre toy, which features a tiny keyboard, and four Teletubbie-like characters, who play tunes like "Jingle Bells", when you press their antennae. The package says it is "the best welcoming toy for children". Of course, when Libby arrived back at the room, nothing would do but I had to go back to the store and get one for her. Cacophony reigned in the room, till we went to dinner.

After the drama of the afternoon, we decided to eat in the hotel. Libby loves the hotel's spaghetti (she thinks it is the best she has ever had!), Lulu loves the congee, and Pierre and I love the noodle soup, so it was a good meal. Our toast for the evening: "to the most wonderful girls ever born in China!"

Libby-and-Mom time was a walk around the neighborhood in the evening. It is very relaxing, walking under the palms, and watching the bicycles, who far outnumber the cars at that time. Then we had a snack at the bar--cookies and Sprite for Libby, and Irish coffee for me. Libby said that she loves her mei-mei only a little, "less than the size of a cherry." (?) She also confided that she does not miss Adam, a boy who left her school, because "he always hurt me.", and wondered why "teachers yell at kids". After this interesting conversation, we retired to the room, where Lulu and Pierre were already sleeping.

Off to the zoo tomorrow! Good night!

Nanning Days with Eleanor AKA Le-le

Our Nanning days seem to have settled into a pattern: breakfast at the hotel, where Eleanor Xile scarfs down congee, and Libby eats noodles, while Pierre and I eat more conventional American breakfasts. Then we head for the People's Park, where we admire the gorgeous tropical landscaping, feed the carp, and people-watch. Today a man passed by with a homemade-looking guitar, and Pierre played it a little. Often we see musicians, violinists especially, and dancers. There is a large Zhuang ethnic population here, who are noted for their music. Another prominent minority group, the Miao people, have their own distinctive music and customs, and we have seen some of them practicing dances in the park. Today, though, we saw only an elderly couple ballroom dancing, and they were very good!

However, before we went to the park, Matthew the Guide took us to Walmart! Normally such places make me feel crazed and ill, and I wasn't too thrilled to go today, but . . . Walmart in the U.S. doesn't have an extensive supermarket, with a live fish market, including live turtles! The fruit and produce department was huge, filled with exotic specimens we couldn't identify. All this was mixed in with kids' clothing, TVs, etc. We got lots of cute, cheap clothes for the girls.

We have been having lunch at the hotel. They serve excellent noodle soup, and since the Mingyuan Xindu Hotel is obviously a center for adoptive families, it's fun to watch happy, but exhausted parents, accompanied by new babies, new older kids, and possibly a few siblings, wander into the room, and collapse. We have met lots of great people--one of the advantages of traveling without a big group. There are families from Italy, from the Netherlands, and from all parts of the U.S. It makes me think about the international community of adopted Chinese girls, who share a birthplace, but will grow up in so many different environments.

After lunch, Pierre and Xile took a nap, so Libby and I had our Mom-and-Libby time at the pool. This is another popular socializing spot for the adoptive families. The only other person I have ever seen there is a guy we call Mr. Laps, who swims back and forth for about an hour. Today we met a guy from Chicago, who adopted his third daughter from China a few days ago, who was at the pool with his girls. Libby greatly admired his oldest, Jazz, who is 9. "Mom, can we give her our room number?" she whispered as we were leaving. (We did)

This evening Matthew the Guide took us to a Miao ethnic restaurant, where we had great food, as usual, but also were treated to Miao singing and dancing. As part of the floor show, the guy we're traveling with, Terry, was called upon to be the groom in a mock Miao wedding. It actually turned out to be a pretty strenuous role to play, involving standing on a sort of balance beam, drinking toasts in various poses with the bride, and carrying her around the room! I think Pierre was quite relieved not to have been drafted.

Apparently a killer typhoon is headed for Guangzhao, and so are we, eventually. I think the typhoon is expected to hit the coastal regions tomorrow morning. Stay tuned . . .

It can't be worse than the flooding in Massachusetts, which has made the Chinese news. We are hoping and praying that our friends and family are ok.

Eleanor Xile is MUCH happier today. She is laughing and smiling, and in fact, is getting quite silly, so should fit right in with the rest of the family. She still refuses to wear underpants, but has given up sleeping in her shoes. (I think she was given new shoes when she left the orphanage, and she was very protective of them for the first day or so.) Her caregivers called her Le-le, so we do too. I think this nickname may morph into Lulu.

Libby and I had another Mom-and-Libby time at night, after Le-le went to bed. We went to the lobby bar,(Libby had Sprite, and I had a "martini" which I think was actually a Manhattan), and talked about life with Le-le. Libby said she kind of likes her mei-mei, but not that much! Le-le is wary of Libby, but not about to be pushed around! Show-down in the future, I think. Probably on the 14 hour flight home!

Good night, and zai jian!

Eleanor Grace Xile Tripp Spy is officially part of our family!

This morning Xile woke up very sad, and cried a little bit, but cheered up considerably when we went to breakfast. She is a great eater!

After breakfast, we completed all the paperwork, gave our donation to the orphanage, distributed gifts to orphanage staff, then answered a few questions, got Xile's footprint in red ink on a document, met with the Provincial Notary, answered a few more questions, distributed a few more gifts, and paid fees, and . . . Xile was ours.

We spent the rest of the morning at People's Park, a short walk from our hotel. It costs about .50 for all of us to enter, and once inside, there's lots to see and do. We fed giant carp, rented a little motor-boat, which Libby steered expertly around the lagoon, and I had an adventurous time asking people where the rest-rooms were.

We had a very good lunch at the hotel, and Xile again ate like a champ. Then we took the girls to the pool. Libby had fun "swimming" with a floatie, and Xile was happy to wade in the shallow water. Then, back in the room, Xile took a nap, while Libby and I enjoyed Mom-and-me time, playing games on PBS Kids website.

Tonight I could no longer face the buffet at the hotel, so I asked one of the hotel staff to suggest a restaurant. She told me to try Rain Stone, on Xin Min Road. It took about a half hour for us to walk there, and it was a wonderful, interesting walk. We passed many little shops, braved the crazed motor skooters and bikes to cross several streets, and enjoyed the lovely tropical evening. The restaurant was very pretty, with green rattan chairs, and green and orange lanterns. The food was good, and the service was excellent, especially since no one spoke any English, and my Mandarin didn't seem to work. I did manage to get them to understand beer, though they had a good laugh over my mispronunciation! Whatever we ordered worked out fine, especially for Xile, the eating machine!

Libby fell asleep, so we took a cab back to the hotel. Guess how much it cost? Seven yuan, which is about .90!!!! Nanning would be a good place to retire, as everything is ridiculously inexpensive, and tipping is sort of insulting. Most people decline tips.

Tomorrow Matthew the Guide has promised us a trip to Walmart, which Pierre actually seems to be looking forward to. I may skip out and go to the zoo or something--except there's always the possibility that Mattthew will throw something good in at the last minute.

Good night!