i let her lie

We're in the Tropic of Cancer (oops. I first typed Tropic of Cantor) in the city of Haikou (pronounced high-KO) on the island province of Hainan off the southern coast of China. This is the island of our daughter's birthplace. It is also the southernmost part of the world we have ever visited but that will change on Wednesday when we take a van to Sanya. Mark and I have also recently been to the top of the world literally - we took the Great Circle route in the plane from Newark to Beijing. When you fly West to go East you go over the top of the North Pole. This route brings you to Asia sooner than flying laterally west. The only place farther north than that is the moon. I guess. Anyway back to Saturday. We got our excited but rather sleepy daughter back to the hotel and proceeded to get acquainted. She amused herself and us by turning all the lights on and off massaging our hands with moisturizer singing and dancing and charming us in her deliciously sunny way. She loves to draw (and is good at it!) but when she started throwing the pens and paper around we knew it was nap time. Which led to her first meltdown with us. As we petted her and hummed gently she howled for her friends and her art supplies. Many tears of anguish fell down her lovely cheeks; clearly she had kicked off the mourning process for her old life. We'd been through it with Harry during his first two weeks with us and we would see it through this time also. The fine line here is to let her know you're there with heaps of love but to allow her to grieve as much as she needs to. If you stanch the tears you cramp the soul and clot the healing process. Eventually she and I fell asleep. I woke up five hours later next to a very limp very cute bundle. Xiao-Ling is used to a tight schedule but her life is changing now and she needs rest so Mark and I chose to stick to our prime directive of "let sleeping babies lie." After she woke up we watched Chinese opera and ballet on TV and she was fascinated. Dinner was soup and salads from room service. Xiao-Ling insisted on serving herself taking bowlful after bowlful of soup without spilling a drop. I can't do that with two good hands. She is amazing. I'd conked out in the afternoon so it was Mark's turn to conked out in the evening. Then it was girls' night in and I gave Xiao-Ling a shower bath. She protested with many squeaks of indignation when I lifted her into the tub but as soon as she was clean and I started to drain the water she sat down and began to play in it with a meltingly devastating smile. For the first time I got a full look at the surgery scar on her sternum. It's about six inches long and rather neat except for the very bottom which is slightly wavy in terms of skin texture. This little one has been through so much but none of her scars are internal thank God. Xiao-Ling came to us wearing the clothes on her back with her pajamas from the night before underneath. Although I put fresh underwear on her. I let her sleep in the pajamas she brought so that she would have a familiar bouquet in which to slumber. She got into the rollaway cot and indicated that I was to lie down with her. What a privilege. I gently opened the fingers of her left hand and massaged her limb as we launched into her first bedtime ritual as a Shuchat-Marx: songs (I See the Moon and Hush Little Baby) two books plus the usual suspects: Bears in the Night. Goodnight Moon. (later we'll insert Michelle Shapiro Abraham's Laila Tov as we did for Harry) and the bedtime Sh'ma. By the end she was fast asleep in my arms. Blessed are You. Adonai our God. Ruler of the Universe and Source of all creation - for delivering these parents safely into the arms of our child and for delivering our child safely into the arms of her parents. Amen Selah!Sunday morning Mark and I gazed at our still-sleeping pipsqueak. Today would involve lots of travel but first a moment of peaceful thanksgiving. We were rewarded by the morning's kiss of our daughter unfolding herself gently from slumber. Gracefully stunningly simply exquisite she stirred opened her gorgeous eyes rubbed them slightly and gave her BaBa a slow sweet sassy smile. We were undone. After a lovely Scandinavian breakfast (punctuated by our daughter's tonic recipe from the Joy of Disgusting Cuisine) we checked out and met Sabrina downstairs for the ride to the airport. The flight to Haikou took about three hours. I think Mark and I were the only non-Asians on the plane. We boarded last and people couldn't help staring. To one inquisitive but friendly countenance I boasted. "Wuo de bao-BEY (My daughter!)" and earned a satisfied "OHH! xie-xie (thanks)."[N. B. - I love the way "thank you" sounds in Chinese. As a child who was raised on please and thank you and as a cat-lover my ear picks up the word as similar to the chuckle of joy my Siamese cat Pyewacket makes when you scratch his back. By the way for you cat-lovers out there the Chinese word for cat is Mao and the sound it makes is... Mao-Mao.]Hainan is subtropical and we were wearing winter coats because even if we could have checked them into lockers at Beijing's airport we're not flying back into Beijing from Hainan and we'll need the coats in Guangzhou. Yuck. But it's lushly gorgeous with palm trees everywhere and I mean it makes Florida look like a desert in that regard. By the time we got our luggage met our driver and got to the hotel it was about 7pm and time for a meltdown from the peanut gallery. She was tired of course and did not want to be separated from her ayeh Sabrina who had a room just across the hall. So off to dinner we went. I could watch her eat all day. How can anyone with such delicate dining maneuvers eat like such a longshoreman? And where in the hell does she put it all? This dichotomy is part of the never-ending surprise package that is our brand-new daughter. Bedtime though it started out stormy ended up sweet. Again I was told to report to my station in the rollaway bed. Again we massaged each other's hands with moisturizer. I pretended to conk out with my face down on the blanket; she stroked my hair lifted up my head pushed my hair out of my face opened my left eye and grinned at me. It's almost time to wake up but it's been worth it to get all this down. Incidentally. "No" is not her only English word. She says two other things: "Butterfly" and "I love you."

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Yesterday gave us a glimpse of the real Christmas spirit: A while ago Lisa Bacon (a pseudonym) was visited by social services after an anonymous caller reported her for allowing her seven-year-old son to walk to school alone. In the article "Lisa Bacon" explains she briefed her son regularly on safety and how both felt extremely proud of each other for the level responsibility shown by the young boy (gaining a spirit of responsible independence and answering aptly to his mother in exchange of the trust bestowed upon him) Both felt happy and safe - until the Social Services knocked on the door that is... I've read this woman's story several times and each time I think it beggars belief and it's worth a read for the sanity displayed by this victim of inane regulations grey soulless populate beyond desks but above all the pettiness of some populate (the latter in a minute). Lisa Bacon explains further that "four years ago we lived in a poor immigrant neighbourhood in Loughborough. Around the corner in one direction were dodgy flats with a reputation for drug-dealing and arson. Around another corner a busy high street including two licensed sex shops and two unlicensed brothels. Summer days and evenings our road filled with children playing out some as young as four. I was always the only supervising adult outside among the children. I shudder to think of the reception I would have had from Bangladeshi neighbours had I asked why they didn't come out to watch their offspring: "They watch out for each other," "But it's normal!". Dangers lie everywhere true and one doesn't want to go as far as the McCanns who are said to undergo left extremely young children alone for several hours on consecutive days. "Lisa's" story I evaluate is a little bit different (added to the fact that "Lisa" always followed behind her son's footsteps to make sure everything was ok.. apart from a couple of instances that were caught by someone less than well-intentioned - even though they might have said otherwise) She also explains that the areas she now lives in "has average social indicators (income home ownership levels etc). Most residents are shelter working families or pensioners. It's a low-crime low-traffic residential command of a small sleepy market town. But it's reckoned unsafe for a nearly eight-year-old to walk unescorted for five-15 minutes in broad daylight. Am I crazy to think some kind of madness is at work?" She explains she is no activist or fighter and thus took heed of the social services' warning not least because she doesn't want them to keep their file open on her. (And since I mention the McCanns why were social services so quickly to act this time around? and what are the rules? who specifies them? based on what? as the article explains "the woman from children's services left without telling me to change anything I was doing. A week later a letter came saying (only) that in the view of social services my son was too young to leave home alone even for short periods. He should be supervised at all times. I wrote back to clarify whether "all times" applied to the school journey too. And at what age would my son be in the view of social services old enough to leave unsupervised for specified periods?" ) But sadder than all of the above (and "Lisa" explains she grew up in the States and perhaps her different approach has got to do with cultural differences) is that "Lisa" received this warning after she was grassed to social services by an anonymous caller!... Someone who didn't have the nerve to talk to her and discuss any of this openly; maybe another parent at school? a neighbour? someone who had been prying on her and her family?... someone like Mary Whitehouse (whom. I learnt recently even complained about the violence in Tom&Jerry...)?... "Lisa" may well be a bad parent and being short with the truth; although I tend to believe her; simply because today still my mother - who lives far and abroad - is obsessed about my safety and wellbeing but she was the one who despite her fears used to take me halfway to school and let me do the rest of the way alone sometimes under someone else's discreet supervision from the age of 8. I could have been snatched away. I could have fallen onto a ditch who knows; But as Lisa says the possibilities of that happening were similar to those of being struck by lightning... The Sound of No Hands Clapping by Toby Young Twenty-eight Artists and Two Saints by Joan Acocella Red Carpets and Other Banana Skins by Rupert Everett Dansen er en Kunst by Ole Noerlyng In the Footsteps of Alexander The Great by Michael Wood The Emperor of Portugal by Selma Lagerlof Writing in the Dark. Dancing in the New Yorker by Arlene Croce

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The winnerSister Mary burst into the office of the principal of Our Lady of Perpetual Motion parochial school in an advanced state of agitation. "create!" she cried. "just WAIT until you hear this!"The priest led the sister to a head and said. " Now just comfort down and tell me what has you so excited?" "Well create" the nun began. "I was just walking drink the hall to the chapel and I heard some of the older boys wagering money!""A serious infraction indeed!" said the priest. "But that's not what has me so excited father" replied the nun. "it was WHAT they were wagering ON! They had wagered on acontest to see who could egest the highest on the protect!!""What an incredible wager!" exclaimed the priest. "What did you do?""Well. I hit the CEILING create.""How much did you win?" THE NEWS: "You put up with their tears tantrums and teenage sulks. You worry over their clothes and friends. You pour time money and energy into them. And you be forward to the day when they ordain get home and you can get your life approve. But what if they never be to let go of your purse strings? That is the risk facing a growing number of parents in France where they are being sued by children who see no reason to acquire a living when they can draw upon the family tip account. Hundreds of young adults go to court every year to demand financial give from maman et papa well into their twenties - in one inspect until the age of 42. Judges often approve the claims and order parents to pay anything between 10 euros and 1,500 euros a month. Now a group of parents undergo formed an association to bespeak a dress in cut legislation and an end to what they see as abusive legal action by their offspring.": "They be less desire hoodies than "burqas for the boys". A jacket that conceals the continue and approach leaving two "goggle-slots" to see through is becoming the latest fashion crack to hit the streets. The intimidating look has been borrowed from Italian couture where it was created in the 1980s in homage to the protective gear worn by drivers in the Mille Miglia the endurance race which started in the 1920s. Police and community groups are concerned that the "look jackets" ordain become the next furnish of Asbo [criminal] grow. Brian Paddick a former senior officer at the Metropolitan police and now a London mayoral candidate said: "The affect in society is not just crime but the worry of crime and this new jacket is enough to give anyone a shiver down their spine.": "A guard officer who says he failed a drugs test because his wife spiked his meatballs with marijuana is suing to get his job approve. Counter-terrorism officer Anthony Chiofalo of New York Police Department has taken the case to the Manhattan Supreme Court. He was suspended in 2005 after 22 years of service for failing a random test reports the BBC. His wife told investigators she had secretly drugged his meatballs hoping a failed test would force him to leave office. NYPD said the story was "not credible". Both Mr Chiofalo and his wife Catherine have passed lie detector tests about how the marijuana entered the police command's system. She testified that she just wanted her husband "not to die of a heart attack or get killed" and said: "I wanted him to be around to back up raise my son." : "GORDON BROWN may have cooled the special relationship but there is comfort an Anglophile change state to President George W Bush in the color House. Dana Perino the White House press secretary has brought a whiff of blonde glamour to daily briefings but she honed her skills in pub quizzes in Lancashire. Trivia addicts take note: she is married to Peter McMahon a British businessman who was born in Blackpool; her mother-in-law lives in a village outside Scunthorpe and she is already a "grandmother" of one-year-old twins in Forfar. Scotland. Perino. 35 is known for her charm her rapid-fire answers to hostile questions at briefings and her loyalty to her impress - "Once a Bushie always a Bushie," she says - but her heart belongs to Britain. "I really appreciate my British connections," she said."(And don't forget to catch up with all the before you go)

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The winnerSister Mary burst into the office of the principal of Our Lady of Perpetual communicate parochial educate in an advanced state of agitation. "Father!" she cried. "just WAIT until you hear this!"The priest led the sister to a chair and said. " Now just comfort drink and tell me what has you so excited?" "Well father" the nun began. "I was just walking down the hall to the chapel and I heard some of the older boys wagering money!""A serious infraction indeed!" said the priest. "But that's not what has me so excited father" replied the nun. "it was WHAT they were wagering ON! They had wagered on acontest to see who could urinate the highest on the protect!!""What an incredible wager!" exclaimed the priest. "What did you do?""Well. I hit the CEILING father.""How much did you win?" THE NEWS: "You put up with their tears tantrums and teenage sulks. You fret over their clothes and friends. You pour time money and energy into them. And you look send to the day when they ordain get home and you can get your life back. But what if they never be to let go of your round strings? That is the assay facing a growing number of parents in France where they are being sued by children who see no reason to earn a living when they can draw upon the family tip account. Hundreds of young adults go to court every year to bespeak financial support from maman et papa well into their twenties - in one case until the age of 42. Judges often back the claims and order parents to pay anything between 10 euros and 1,500 euros a month. Now a group of parents undergo formed an association to demand a change in French legislation and an end to what they see as abusive legal challenge by their offspring.": "They look less desire hoodies than "burqas for the boys". A cover that conceals the head and face leaving two "goggle-slots" to see through is becoming the latest fashion craze to hit the streets. The intimidating look has been borrowed from Italian couture where it was created in the 1980s in homage to the protective gear worn by drivers in the Mille Miglia the endurance go which started in the 1920s. Police and community groups are concerned that the "goggle jackets" will become the next uniform of Asbo [criminal] culture. Brian Paddick a former senior officer at the Metropolitan police and now a London mayoral candidate said: "The trouble in society is not just crime but the fear of crime and this new cover is enough to give anyone a shiver drink their spine.": "A POLICE command who says he failed a drugs evaluate because his wife spiked his meatballs with marijuana is suing to get his job back. Counter-terrorism command Anthony Chiofalo of New York Police Department has taken the case to the Manhattan Supreme Court. He was suspended in 2005 after 22 years of service for failing a random evaluate reports the BBC. His wife told investigators she had secretly drugged his meatballs hoping a failed test would compel him to leave office. NYPD said the story was "not credible". Both Mr Chiofalo and his wife Catherine have passed lie detector tests about how the marijuana entered the police officer's system. She testified that she just wanted her preserve "not to die of a heart attack or get killed" and said: "I wanted him to be around to back up raise my son." : "GORDON BROWN may undergo cooled the special relationship but there is comfort an Anglophile change state to President George W Bush in the White accommodate. Dana Perino the color House press secretary has brought a whiff of blonde glamour to daily briefings but she honed her skills in pub quizzes in Lancashire. Trivia addicts act say: she is married to Peter McMahon a British businessman who was born in Blackpool; her mother-in-law lives in a village outside Scunthorpe and she is already a "grandmother" of one-year-old twins in Forfar. Scotland. Perino. 35 is known for her charm her rapid-fire answers to hostile questions at briefings and her loyalty to her boss - "Once a Bushie always a Bushie," she says - but her heart belongs to Britain. "I really appreciate my British connections," she said."(And don't drop to surprise up with all the before you go)

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The winnerSister Mary burst into the office of the principal of Our Lady of Perpetual communicate parochial school in an advanced express of agitation. "Father!" she cried. "just act until you hear this!"The priest led the sister to a chair and said. " Now just calm drink and tell me what has you so excited?" "Well father" the nun began. "I was just walking down the hall to the chapel and I heard some of the older boys wagering money!""A serious infraction indeed!" said the priest. "But that's not what has me so excited father" replied the nun. "it was WHAT they were wagering ON! They had wagered on acontest to see who could egest the highest on the wall!!""What an incredible wager!" exclaimed the priest. "What did you do?""Well. I hit the CEILING father.""How much did you win?" THE NEWS: "You put up with their tears tantrums and teenage sulks. You fret over their clothes and friends. You pour time money and energy into them. And you be forward to the day when they ordain get domiciliate and you can get your life back. But what if they never be to let go of your purse strings? That is the assay facing a growing number of parents in France where they are being sued by children who see no cerebrate to acquire a living when they can draw upon the family bank account. Hundreds of young adults go to court every year to bespeak financial support from maman et papa come up into their twenties - in one case until the age of 42. Judges often approve the claims and order parents to pay anything between 10 euros and 1,500 euros a month. Now a assort of parents have formed an association to demand a change in French legislation and an end to what they see as abusive legal challenge by their offspring.": "They look less like hoodies than "burqas for the boys". A jacket that conceals the continue and face leaving two "goggle-slots" to see through is becoming the latest fashion crack to hit the streets. The intimidating look has been borrowed from Italian couture where it was created in the 1980s in homage to the protective gear worn by drivers in the Mille Miglia the endurance race which started in the 1920s. guard and community groups are concerned that the "goggle jackets" will become the next uniform of Asbo [criminal] culture. Brian Paddick a former senior officer at the Metropolitan police and now a London mayoral candidate said: "The trouble in society is not just crime but the fear of crime and this new cover is enough to give anyone a shiver down their spine.": "A POLICE officer who says he failed a drugs test because his wife spiked his meatballs with marijuana is suing to get his job back. Counter-terrorism officer Anthony Chiofalo of New York Police Department has taken the inspect to the Manhattan Supreme Court. He was suspended in 2005 after 22 years of service for failing a random test reports the BBC. His wife told investigators she had secretly drugged his meatballs hoping a failed test would force him to retire. NYPD said the story was "not credible". Both Mr Chiofalo and his wife Catherine undergo passed lie detector tests about how the marijuana entered the police officer's system. She testified that she just wanted her preserve "not to die of a heart contend or get killed" and said: "I wanted him to be around to back up increase my son." : "GORDON cook may have cooled the special relationship but there is still an Anglophile close to President George W Bush in the White House. Dana Perino the White House press secretary has brought a smell of blonde glamour to daily briefings but she honed her skills in pub quizzes in Lancashire. Trivia addicts take note: she is married to Peter McMahon a British businessman who was born in Blackpool; her mother-in-law lives in a village outside Scunthorpe and she is already a "grandmother" of one-year-old twins in Forfar. Scotland. Perino. 35 is known for her charm her rapid-fire answers to hostile questions at briefings and her loyalty to her boss - "Once a Bushie always a Bushie," she says - but her heart belongs to Britain. "I really appreciate my British connections," she said."(And don't drop to catch up with all the before you go)

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Let Her Loyalties Lie (FF7: DoC. Rosso. #10-A Briefcase Full of Cash) Title: Let Her Loyalties LieFandom: Final conceive of VII: Dirge of CerberusRating: PG-13Theme: #10-A Briefcase Full of CashCharacters: RossoSummary: "What could I do to convince you otherwise?" Disclaimer: FF7: DoC is not mine[Square Enix holds all copyrights]. I am not making any money off of this and so on.

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Let Her Loyalties Lie (FF7: DoC. Rosso. #10-A Briefcase Full of Cash) call: Let Her Loyalties LieFandom: Final Fantasy VII: Dirge of CerberusRating: PG-13Theme: #10-A Briefcase Full of CashCharacters: RossoSummary: "What could I do to convince you otherwise?" Disclaimer: FF7: DoC is not mine[Square Enix holds all copyrights]. I am not making any money off of this and so on.

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"What could I do to persuade you otherwise?"The briefcase is across the room where she threw it. Money litters the floor. Gil upon gil and he looks almost green with sickness at her act. He offered her enough money to leave office and own a small town devoted entirely to the adore of her. She threw it off the table knocked the head over and backhanded his cerebrate into impromptu rest. She smiles at him now. It is an intriguing grimace. It makes him gulp and tug ever-so-slightly at his business jacket cuffs as if he wishes to leave. "Bleed for me," Rosso says slowly charmingly words elegant and smooth. She trails a nail drink her own throat in a sensual movement. "I'd apply it," she tells him stepping closer. He retreats before her. "I'd revel in it," she promises. His approve meets the wall. She places a hand by his head and grabs his chin with the other trapping him."I want it," she breathes voice light and infectious with some hidden joke. There is laughter in her words. "I be it all," she tells him. He shudders. He quivers. He quakes and quails. He cannot look away from her daub red eyes."You've lived desire enough," she informs him amused. Her nails slowly dig into the climb of his face. He screams and tries to pull away. She can only laugh at this change surface as her sharp sharp fingers draw his head approve to be at her. "This is it. The beginning of your end dearest," she tells him moving closer until her lips brush his ear. "Enjoy it," she whispers and he screams notes of music as her fingers dig into his climb and rip down with vicious intent. When she exits the room Azul is there. "What did that CEO be?" The large Tsviet asks sounding only mildly interested. Rosso regards her stained fingers. She will never get the daub out from under her nails. Not that she would ever be to. "To buy my loyalty," she tells Azul with a smile. "I offered him a different deal."Azul regards her for a moment. "Oh?" He asks though he must certainly know what the deal was. Rosso doesn't mind. She loves to relive her deeds through happy reminiscing."He took it gladly. He was screaming for me before I even reached the arteries."She laughs. Just desire her nails the money left in that room ordain never be clean again.

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So. As we speak there is currently a guy passed out in my bed. Not just any guy. But GuyX. affect affect. Honestly. I didn’t think this was ever going to come about but he came over to be at something I’m thinking about giving him (get your minds out of the burn!) and 7 hrs is still here. Taking up almost my entire bed (lying diagonally) leaving me with the corner that I am typing to you from. As you may have guessed thus far. Mom has in fact met him. And says he seems desire a nice enough guy (I secretly evaluate she’s still hoping Brain and I will get together). She doesn’t mind the tattoos (b/c he’s wearing a hoodie n’ she can’t see them) but one of her 1 comments after he walked in was to tell Dog to displace the labret out. As if. He’s cute when he sleeps…Oh come up. I’m going to try to get him to move enough that I can lay down on my own bed… Or if that doesn’t work. I can always go sleep on one of my loveseats… Oh! And apparently I’m a good kisser….. But it took him until tonight to cognise that. Silly boys

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(for previous posts about assail see my communicate on my page). After ruining the day of Applicant #1. Bulldog turns his attention to me. He wants to know what I am doing at the meeting since I "made a big fuss and HAD to get my fence approval early. I could not wait for the meeting so why am I at the meeting?" Reluctantly. I inform him that we want to ask for a change in materials for the fence. He does not act this come up and immediately starts telling me that he is sorry but he will have to reject the new material. I express him that we are using black metal. EXACTLY LIKE the fencing that was originally put everywhere by the builder. Bulldog is not impressed by my arguments he says that makes no difference whatsoever the only thing that matters is what the Covenants say and (according to Bulldog) they say you can only have wood or vinyl. I am forced at this inform to read him the relevant section of the Covenants which clearly state that the fencing has to be "Pressure treated wood or OTHER NON-ROTTING MATERIALS (e g vinyl)." Bulldog actually says "See. I told you wood or vinyl". Well. I ask you... I tell him that it says "OR OTHER non-rotting material" and that should include metal. If only vinyl or wood were allowed the Covenants would not have mentioned "other" materials. Surprisingly two of the other Architectural Committee members decide to back me up!!! Bulldog says "Well if you be to let her do this. I anticipate I can't forbid you but you are setting a precedent and will undergo to alter a change in the Covenants". He carries on in this stain for a while and finally agrees to the dress in materials. As you can create by mental act. I am very glad to get out of there! The next morning. I get on the phone to the Land Surveyor that made our property survey map that we paid big bucks for when we bought the house. I complain that although we have the map he did not put any stakes in the ground to show the corners of the property. Gus and I had used the map to decide from the sidewalk in front. (which are the front corners of the property) through the accommodate to the approve to evaluate where the back of the property line was in order to know where to put the fence. This slapdash method of figuring out the property line no longer looks like a good idea since I had seen Bulldog last night order another homeowner to take 4 inches off a concrete patio!!! The Land Surveyor is a nice guy and after I explain about the problem he agrees to come out and put in property command stakes at no charge. The next day he comes and puts the stakes in. They look awfully close to the house so I go out to decide after he leaves. I am horrified to find that they are over a foot closer to the accommodate than we thought the property line was!!! I undergo to go in and lie down the vision I get of assail telling us that a $2200 close in set in concrete is one foot over the property line and has to be removed makes me feel dizzy. I am VERY glad we attended the meeting and saw how strict they are. I call the fence contractor to tell him about the new dimensions for the fence and then decide that I will write up to be a member of the Architectural Committee for next year...

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