jaysaint Getting it all down on paper…

This morning I wrote our “statement of intent.” It’s a letter to the Chinese adoption authorities explaining why adoption, why China, what kind of child you hope to get and lots of promises that you’ll take loving care of the baby. This is a one-page document that has to cover a lot of territory, including practical stuff like addresses and citizenship information. So the room for additional information is short. It’s an interesting comment on Chinese culture that there’s a section prioritized for education — how much do we have and how do we plan to educate our child?

I felt more moved than I expected writing our statement, and I really enjoyed spending time with it.

It made me think that maybe I should be writing statements of intent for other important choices in my life. I certainly felt focused and well-directed when I finished. So when I want a new job, or just when I want to instill a good habit (or break a bad one) perhaps I’ll start with a one-page declarative document. I think I can leave the citizenship information out.

Here’s some unrelated stuff:

I visited the Microsoft campus for the first time last week. The campus was gorgeous — verdant, lush, hyper-green. The best part of it, though, was that it smelled distinctly of eucalyptus. So nice, they even have waterfalls. The interior is a bit more run down, which makes sense as the campus has been down for a while. It did make me laugh that it’s really hard to get BlackBerry reception there, so we all had to go into the hallways by the window and wave them around.

After our meetings we went to a very fancy-pants dinner that once again confirmed for me that I usually like what comes out of my kitchen as well as I like what cost $100 at a posh restaurant. Of course, I didn’t have to wash the dishes (or pay) so I had a very nice time. And the service was no less than exquisite. I did fumble badly in jumping on the fish special without listening carefully. The accompanying sauce sounded so lovely (tomatoes, olives, capers, wine) that I missed that it was a whole fish. Nothing like trying to make intelligent chatter with important partners (I think I was trying to sound like I’m used to talking about sailing when the main course came) while de-boning your meal. I actually did a terrifically clean job of getting out the filet, but felt a little nervous about fishsplatter until it was done.

Another noteable event: the flight to Seattle.
First: A Bad Sign.
During takeoff it quickly became clear that the man in the middle seat brought nothing to entertain himself. No books. No magazines. No music. No games. No Sudoku. Nothing. What he did have: someone to talk to. Me. He was from Venezuela and persistent. My earphones did not deter him. Determined magazine reading did not deter him. Avid in-flight movie watching did not deter him. Here’s some sample dialogue:
Him: So my friends say to me…
Me:
Him: So my friends say to me…
Me: Sorry? I couldn’t hear you through my headphones (Assume posture of having taken them out very temporarily, earbud hovering an inch from my ear.)
Him: So my friends say to me, “Are you going to see cattle?” And I say, “NO!!! See-attle!”

He also asked me a lot about electricity costs and hydroelectric power in the US.

For a while I did manage to hold him off by bobbing my head to the music on my iPod, and he spent some quality time with the guy in the window seat. When he turned back to me I snuck a peek at window guy and saw that he’d put on those big noise cancellation headphones. He looked like a helicopter pilot. All I could do was raise my eyebrows at him in silent tribute. Well played, window man.

Anyway, we soldiered on to Washington. And then. Believe it or not. 10 feet from the runway (I’m not exaggerating). I got to experience my first aborted landing. At first I thought the jolt I felt was the wheels touching down, and then I realized I was being pushed backward instead of forward, which meant we weren’t stopping, we were shooting up into the sky. And that we did at an impressive clip and angle. By the time I finshed saying, “What? What?” we were back in the clouds. The pilot came on and got all pilot-y, saying, “Sorry folks, we had a little traffic confusion there. We’ll circle around and get you on the ground.” And I thought: I wonder if the people in first class heard them yell “Jesus Christ!” from the cockpit when they saw the plane/luggage truck/moose on the runway.

I knew that we would be okay, because sometimes my life can seem to be full of cruel jokes but I knew there was no way I was going to check out next to the “See Cattle” guy.

Meme I just made up: Go to Wikipedia, click on “Random article” and post the intros (or the whole thing, if it’s a short one) to the first three you get.

1. Iorlas
Iorlas is a minor character in J.R.R Tolkien’s novel The Lord of the Rings.

He is Bergil’s uncle from Lossarnach, presumably Beregond’s brother. He is only mentioned by Bergil and never appears in person, though he likely fights in the siege of the city and the battles of the Pelennor Fields and the Black Gate.

In the Peter Jackson film, there is a similarly named character named Irolas (played by Ian Hughes). He is an officer of Minas Tirith who appears after Faramir retreats from Osgiliath.

2. Transcarga
Transcarga (International Airways) is a cargo airline based in Caracas, Venezuela. It operates domestic charter cargo services.

3. Furze Platt School
Furze Platt School in Maidenhead is made up of two schools: Furze Platt Junior and Furze Platt Senior School.

Furze Platt Senior school has 6th form facilities, and is an ‘IT/Maths’ Specialist school, and has notably high levels of technology to boast in each classroom.

Furze Platt Senior has been successful, mainly due to new management, in turning the ‘tough’ image around into a very successful and influential secondary school. It is highly regarded by Ofsted and many other governing bodies.

I admit that I skipped two random entries. The first was on monkey hunting, and I’m just not into putting that in my journal. The second was 1921 in Ireland. And while I could be into putting that in my journal, just the first graf was super-long and would try your patience.

It’ a rainy rainy Sunday. There’s nothing better, to my mind, although I will be sad if it cancels our building’s annual cookout tonight. No one can believe an apartment building in New York has a group cookout, but we’re a very friendly bunch. There’s also a progressive Christmas party each year where anyone willing throws their doors open and the group moves from apartment to apartment throughout the night.

Here’s an unrelated question (in case anyone is actually reading on this rainy rainy Sunday): Does anyone think he or she could name the dates and addresses for every place s/he’s lived since s/he was 18? I’ve lived 11 different places, it seems, and am having a hard time imagining how I’m going to come up with the address of my first college apartment in particular.

We made the decision to be parents. We made the decision to adopt. We got approved by an adoption agency and social work agency. But nothing says “We’re doing this thing” like mailing two thousand dollars.

Yesterday I was coming back from a quick trip to the bank across the street from our office.

While I was waiting on the corner for the walk light, a woman went running by behind me. And she was not kidding around about that running, she was pounding down the sidewalk.

As I turned back around to face the street a cab drew up to the curb, the back window rolled down and none other than Billie Jean King stuck her head out to yell, “Go Girl!!!” at the runner.

If I could get Billie Jean King to personally cheer me on when I exercise I feel I could be ready for the 2008 Olympics.