If you’re on a Mac, I found this just wonderful method of saving pages as PDFs. First, download OmniWeb here. Open it and go to your page. Hit Cmd+Option+Shift+S. Pick a destination. And you’re done. I went into my System Prefs and remapped “Save As PDF…” (caps and dots necessary) to Command+Shift+S so I could do it easier with one hand, and just numbered the PDFs as I went along. I just plowed through 76 pages of my blog in about 15 minutes. Better still, it saves the whole page as a single-page PDF rather than inserting unnecessary page breaks. Credit for this discovery goes to term at the Ars forum.

On Windows or other OS? Grab Firefox and the Print Pages to PDF extension. This one might even be easier, because it can save all open tabs as PDFs. Alas, it’s not available on Mac.

Now I’m going to go see if there’s an easy way to batch-crop PDFs.

UPDATE: Thanks to dakwar on the MacRumors forum for this easy batch-cropping step-by-step. Works great. Only caveat: It requires Acrobat Pro. No Acrobat Pro? Sorry, you’re on your own.

Yesterday took a dramatic turn for the better when someone (we still don’t know who) made the decision to transfer us down the hall from our four-bed, semi-private “pod” to a two-bed room, where the other bed was vacant and exceptionally unlikely to be filled. So basically, we got what was essentially a private room. With a door. And a bathroom. And densely engineered, cushioned chairs that folded out into not-very-comfortable-but-at-least-mostly-horizontal beds.

El still refused to consider the crib, but she was much calmer overall and would sleep if being held. So we took turns walking her around, sitting down when she fell asleep for as long as she’d let us, and then crashing while the other did the same. It’s not a routine I’d recommend for fun, but it was a hell of a lot better than the night before.

Now she’s asleep upstairs, probably on the rocking chair in Mommy’s arms, who I most fervently hope is also asleep. She’s still in some pain, and very unhappy about the restraints she has to wear to prevent her from digging in her mouth, but overall just immeasurably better.

Me, I’ve got a dishwasher to unload. But I wanted to say thanks to you all for your thoughts and prayers and offers of help. The next few weeks are going to continue to be tough, so we may take you up on your offers. (Who wants to rake our leaves? Don’t all speak at once.) But for now we’re just ecstatic to be home.

Who am I kidding? “Ecstatic” doesn’t even cover it. I showered today after being awake and unwashed for most of the previous 52 hours. I may have cried a little.

Very frustrated with facilities and staff here. Even after half a night of El’s screaming, none of the nursing assistants made any effort to figure out what was going on; we had to push them repeatedly to revise pain meds. We also had to make a special request to get a chair that wasn’t hard wood even though they knew she was refusing to be in the crib, forcing us to hold her.

It’s also a ridiculous pain to just get off the floor, thanks to some administrative genius’s decision to make the elevator that leads right to this ward off limits to anyone but staff.

Just lots of short-sightedness going around, which of course is twice as irritating when we haven’t slept.

I’m sure at some point we’ll be getting out of here.

I just have no idea when.

This is, as you might imagine, rather stressful for us.

The surgery itself is no big deal. The only part of the palate that’s open is the soft palate, toward the back of her mouth, so it’s a pretty simple procedure as these things go. And the guy performing the surgery is the head of the plastic surgery department so, you know, he’s qualified.

But she’s our kid, you know? And right now she’s completely in someone else’s hands, in a situation that, while routine, still has room for mishap. She’s completely under, and has a breathing tube taking care of that respiration thing for her. I have a beeper in my pocket (a beeper!) but no other connection to her or what’s going on. So forgive me for being a little tense.

I need to go distract myself now, because I don’t have felt food to do it for me. Will update when I can.

Here’s me: “Well, I could write a blog post. Or I could sleep.”

Sorry about that. But really, there hasn’t been much to tell. The Small Human continues to develop as expected: She eats, she excretes, she radiates adorable cuteness. You know, her standard M.O.

The big change recently is that she’s starting to walk. Like, a lot. Here, look:

(Yeah, that’s Flash. Sorry. Blame Facebook.)

Aside from that, we went up to Chicago this past weekend to visit PawPaw and Gram, and introduce Eleanor to all her Chicago aunts, uncles, and cousins. She did remarkably well, in spite of fighting a cold and suffering the occasional moment of overstimulation. She even did pretty darn well through the six-hour car ride. As a result, you Rybickis who are coming out to the Clambake this weekend will get some Eleanor time.

There’s not much else to tell. She’s doing as well as we can expect. She’s an amazingly adaptable and good-tempered child. She’s still not terribly fond of going to sleep. She’s still not speaking much, though she does seem to be understanding more. She’s still wonderfully (and sometimes maddeningly) clingy—a good sign for attachment purposes. She’s still surprising and sweet and adorable. <shrug> What can you do?

[Reminder: If you're not following me on Instagram or her on Facebook, you can see my Instagram feed online here: http://ink361.com/#/users/2929469/photos -- by popular demand I try to post new pics of her there as often as I can.]

Until about two years later, when I was preparing to move to Chicago. In retrospect, it became clear that he was simply sad that a new friend was leaving town, but the way he chose to express this was…contentious. As personable and welcoming as he could be, he could also be the biggest, nastiest dickhead you’ve ever met. Following an evening when he verbally flayed me for my reasons for the move, I washed my hands of him.

It took about three years for me to realize that a lot of what he’d been saying was spot on. So I wrote him a letter, extended an olive branch, and we renewed our friendship, stronger than ever. Over the next decade or so, we remained extremely close. He was one of the very few Clevelanders to visit us in California. We played a lot of poker. We drank a lot of whiskey. I named him Best Man at my wedding. He gave a killer toast. He was in town for a chilly barbecue on the 4th of July in California when we discussed moving back to Cleveland. He was ecstatic.

But just a couple years later, things started to go downhill for him. He bought a house that ended up needing a lot of work. Then he lost his job just as the economy was imploding. As a teacher in a Catholic school, the jobs simply weren’t there. He successfully completed a Masters program, but it seemed to make no difference for the job prospects. He started drinking more. He fell out with one girlfriend, then another. He started to feel like the world was out to get him, I think, and when he developed a massive misunderstanding about how I and our other friends thought of him, he relinquished virtually all contact with us and would not be persuaded that he was still welcome.

After something like two years of unemployment, he lost his house and moved in with his parents. This was, it turned out, a good development. He told me he felt like he was helping them by being there. Though his relationship with them was never great, I think he felt like he was needed again. He was writing more, he said, and seemed to be using his improving relationship with his parents as fuel for reaching out to other estranged friends. Our relationship didn’t improve much, but it seemed that he was making an effort to be more understanding — or at least more communicative. (His maddeningly cryptic emails are the stuff of legend.) So all in all, it seemed that things were getting better. Slowly, but noticeably.

Then his father died.

And a few days later — sometime around when we were driving to Hong Kong to return from China — he went into the garage and put a gun to his head.

One of the things that makes suicide such a reprehensibly selfish act is that we have no way of knowing at this point what he was thinking. But I have my suspicions: I think that he probably felt, once his father died, that he was somehow poisonous to everyone he was around. This is the way he thought of himself, and I could imagine this loss simply being too much to handle. They say that people on antidepressants have a higher risk of suicide shortly after they start taking the pills; there’s no definite explanation, but the theory is that once they start feeling better, a bad day — or other setback — feels so much worse. It’s a perspective thing; part of depression is that you don’t realize how bad you really feel. So once you start to feel better, it becomes clearer how bad the bad times really are. And some people can’t handle that. I suspect something similar happened here.

That is, of course, no excuse. I don’t know that there is an excuse for suicide — not like this, not for a person with friends and family and others willing and able to help one’s situation. As I say, it’s reprehensible, and another reason why is that it leaves those around you with nothing but questions. Questions, and regret.

Could we have done more to prevent this? The real pisser is that yes, we could have. There is always more that could have been done. Those left behind can imagine so many ways things could have been different, ways they could have tried to help, each more outlandish than the last. Could we have forced him into rehab for alcoholism? Should we have invited him into our homes instead of allowing him to move in with his parents? Should we have kept in better contact, simply not let him pull away in spite of any abuse he may have dealt out in response?

But that’s the emotional response. Practically speaking, I really believe all his (former or current) friends did as much as they possibly could. You extend what help you can, to the best of your ability, and you hope it’s enough. In this case, it wasn’t, but that’s his problem, not ours. I’m sorry if that sounds callous, but suicide is a callous business.

One of the things I hate about this situation is that my feelings about Brian right now are all negative: anger, regret, frustration at not being able to tell him what a dumbass he was for even seriously thinking about it. And that colors my older memories, the better ones. And there are many, because when he was at his best he was a remarkable person.

And so, though he specifically requested no ceremony be made following his death (such a cruel blow to his family, who lost father and brother in a handful of days), these are the memories I plan to keep.

I remember Christmas parties. Brian was legendary for his Christmas parties, which gathered a huge and ever-changing group of smart, funny, talented individuals to eat great food, drink great drink, and sing and play Christmas songs. Friends, family, colleagues, former student, and passing acquaintances were all welcome. For many years it was one of the highlights of the season for me.

I remember poker games, when he would play with brutal recklessness and (usually) good humor. He taught me to play, and for years we gathered a weekly group in my parents’ basement for nights of cards that could last until the sun came up.

I remember sitting on the floor of his house, smoking long-stemmed pipes and debating religion, politics, love, and anything else that seemed worthy of debate. I suspect a great deal of wine and/or whiskey was consumed.

I remember him making bacon-infused mashed potatoes in the kitchen of our rental house in San Francisco. Yesterday I saw the recipe he wrote out for us, to attempt to recreate the majesty.

I remember near-weekly breakfasts at the diner near his house, where he would shamelessly flirt with the waitresses (no matter the age, ethnicity, or body type) and devour corned beef hash and eggs while we gossiped about news of the day. Later I would attempt to resume these get-togethers as a way of jump-starting our relationship, but they never took.

I remember sitting in on one of his classes and realizing that, yes, he really was a phenomenal teacher of religion. Though he felt his relationship with the divine had soured, he was in the seminary once upon a time, and retained a passion for religion, and the knowledge to back it up.

I remember sending letters back and forth from Chicago or San Francisco, often written on the insides of whiskey boxes, full of literary allusions and snippets of poetry.

I have a picture that I took at a going-away party before he went to teach English in China for a year. He’s standing in front of a bonfire, head-high staff in one hand, hand-rolled cigarette in the other, smirking self-deprecatingly at something one of the other partiers was saying.

That was Brian in a nutshell. And though right now I’m angry, frustrated, disappointed, and hurt, that’s the Brian i’ll remember.

However, there’s not really much to report since the last update. Sleeping is still a challenge, though her schedule does seem to be improving. Still, we’re operating at a pretty severe sleep deficit at this point so it’s hard to find the mental bandwidth to blog just now.

Two bits of news: Kim’s parents came in for a quick visit on her birthday, and Eleanor behaved pretty much just as we’d hope, by which I mean she was just a little shy with them and turned to us for encouragement. It’s a good sign for the progression of her attachment, and it might — might — mean we could get to have visitors sooner than we thought. But first we need to get her sleep worked out, which could be weeks yet.

The other news is that we had to take her to the doctor today for her first exam…as well as five vaccinations…and two blood draws. Kim was on restraint duty for the injections, which was traumatizing enough. (El’s reaction when the nurse came back into the room with stickers for her was absolutely priceless. Heart-wrenching, but priceless. She may have been attempting to project herself elsewhere in time and space.)

Of course, that meant I was on restraint duty for the blood draws. I’m not entirely positive but I’m pretty sure we were in that chair for about a month and a half. I got to be a human straitjacket: one arm holding one of hers next to her body and her body next to mine; that hand holding her elbow; the other hand holding her wrist; chin and jaw trying to keep her head from whipping around while she demonstrated her impressive lung capacity. I also got to see the phlebotomist digging around a little in search of her tiny veins.

In case you don’t have kids, let me be explicit: This Sucks. You know that she’s terrified and miserable but you also know it has to be done to keep her healthy. Your heart is breaking for her but you have to be strong both physically and mentally, for her and for yourself. And of course the thought is constantly running through your head that she is never going to forgive you for the trauma you’re associated with here.

Fortunately, she allowed each of us to soothe her after her respective experiences, and after a lot of hiccuping, some ice cream, and a nap in the car, she appeared to have either forgiven or forgotten. Or perhaps just failed to recognize our role in all of this and just blames it all on the doctors.

I’m OK with this.

Just a few pics today, for those of you not on Facebook or Instagram. We’ll be taking more once we’re more awake, no doubt.

Our daughter, our little bundle of boundless love, is doing her best to help Mama and Baba experience the hidden secrets of the universe via extreme sleep deprivation. The last couple of days, she’s gone to bed around 7:30, popped back up around 11 and 12, and then come fully awake about two, clapping and laughing and ready to play.

This is challenging.

The girl is the most adorable human I’ve ever met, but that counts for surprisingly little when you’re working from a two-plus-week sleep deficit and you’re worried you’ll fall asleep on your feet and drop her.

I have a profound respect for single parents. The only way we’re staying even remotely coherent is by trading off nighttime duties and spelling each other during the day just to get a few moments to recharge. I couldn’t imagine doing this without Kim’s help.

On the plus side, this jet lag-induced sleeplessness is going to make the normal late-night soothings that are sure to come feel so much easier. So we have that going for us.

And fortunately the rest of this experience is so positive that it’s easy to forget the nighttime misery. Well, most of the time. In all seriousness, this kid is a joy and we continue to feel so fortunate that we found each other. But boy are we looking forward to something resembling a full night’s sleep.

And now, pictures!

But now that we are home, I figured I’d open it back up for general viewing. Feel free to follow along with our adventures.

I’d write more but my body still thinks it’s five in the morning. I’ll have more coherent thoughts soon…ish.

I have no idea what I’m saying.

Whilst I try to keep her entertained and me caffeinated, please enjoy this photo, taken mere seconds after Eleanor officially became a U.S. citizen.

And here’s one more, of Her Highness the Most Royal Princess Rufflebutt, after having surveyed her new domain and having found it adequate.

We are fried.

Eleanor has been amazing but she’s starting to lose it now. We’ll update more once we get our brains back together, but I just wanted to say we made it and we’re well and we’re grateful for all your support.

Love, -joe and Kim and Eleanor

But then, on the other hand, we are now traveling with Baroness Squirmy Von Squirmington (of the Easthampton Von Squirmingtons) so who knows?

Will try to update from Newark if there’s time!

No time or access for long updates today. Leaving at 5:30 fir the three-hour drive to Hong Kong, then to Newark, then HOME.

Will try to update when we get home, if brain still works. That is, after all, more than 24 hours from now.

Love to all,
-joe & Kim

The most memorable part of the day for me was the electronics mall. Our guide, myself, and a couple other guys headed out to see if we could score some cheap geek stuff. And oh, did we ever. The electronics mall nearby is five floors of tiny stalls shoehorned together, selling anything having to do with anything that uses a battery or has a screen. In two hours we saw about seventy-five percent of one floor — and according to our guide this was one of the smaller such malls in town. My compatriots bought iPhone cases ($1.20ish), “Sony” earbuds (about $4), Bluetooth keyboards (about $12) and a zoom lens for an iPad (maybe $15).

Me, I got a nice webcam, a retro phone handset for my iPhone, and two retractable travel cables with iPhone, Kindle, and mini-USB connectors. Total cost: 85 Yuan — about thirteen dollars.

Afterward, my ladies and I went out for more souvenirs and stumbled on a shop we hadn’t seen yet, one with more authentic stuff than most of the tchotchke stands on the island. Kim was very excited to find a handmade crocheted doll for Eleanor (have you ever tried to find an Asian doll in Cleveland?) and we got some other fun stuff for L’s room and such.

(I have to say, though, my favorite souvenir is one we found yesterday: a shelf lamp in the shape of a beautiful book, with a woodcut on the front that the light shines softly through. It opens and closes like a book to give off more or less light. It’s very cool. It’s also a beautiful red color — the color of good fortune in China — and features lovely, subtle, stylized rabbits in the woodcut, which is appropriate for Eleanor since she was born in the year of the Rabbit.)

And speaking of Eleanor: she’s recently learned that she can walk if we’re holding her hands. This is very exciting for her. Very. Exciting. In fact, it’s so exciting that it’s pretty much the only thing she wants to do now. Food, play, bottles — who needs them? She’s got two feet and knows how to use them.

Fortunately the hallways in the hotel are long enough to wear her out pretty quickly. Unfortunately, her height is such that they wear our backs out pretty quickly too. We walk together when we can, each of us holding a hand, but she seems to prefer just one driver.

When we simply can’t handle the walk, we sit across from each other on the floor and let her plunge headlong from one to the other. She would do this for hours if we let her.

Meanwhile, we find ourself thinking a lot about going home. This has been a wonderful trip, full of happiness and laughter and adventures. We will look back fondly and look forward to returning. But, you know, it’s time to go home. We have one day of relaxation, then one very long day of travel. We’re sad to leave, but home can’t come soon enough.

With this in mind, we assembled the following list of things we plan to never take for granted again:

• Air conditioning
• Humidity below ninety-eight percent
• Ice in drinks
• Being in similar time zones to family and friends
• Walking or driving without fearing for one’s life
• Diners
• Couches with cushions
• Being understood
• Non-negotiable pricing
• Drinkable water
• The ability to eat raw produce
• Uncensored internet
• Blue sky
• Sleep
• Coffee
• Closets and dressers
• Sturdy cribs
• Recognizable food products
• Real bacon
• Appliances, especially dishwashers
• Western pharmacies
• Our cats
• Open space
• Home cooked meals
• The predictability of everything around us

At the same time, we already know there are many things we’ll miss a lot. Such as:

• Almost everything about Chongqing
• Never having to clean our room
• Not even momentarily thinking about work
• Ridiculously cheap electronics
• Walking everywhere
• Bao for breakfast
• The surprised giggles when we say “thank you” in Mandarin
• The gorgeous Asian architecture
• The supermarkets
• Creative transportation by the locals
• Awesome t-shirts
• The beautiful faces of the children
• Red and gold lanterns
• The newness of everything around us

In the balance, I think home wins. But we’ll be back.

And now, some random photos from the last day or two:

Today, we have have Eleanor for one week…our weekaversary?

This morning we went to our embassy appointment. All the paperwork has been submitted for Eleanor’s visa. Picking up the visa is the final step before we go home. That should happen tomorrow at 1530. We head back home Wednesday morning!

We both have mixed emotions about returning home. This has been an amazing trip. It’s one we’ll never forget. As I said in my last blog post, China is amazing. We’ve seen things that I never dreamt of seeing, but we’ve also slept in strange beds and eaten unusual food for the last two weeks. I am craving fresh veggies and the smell of my own sheets. I am also craving fabric softener and clothing out of a dryer (they don’t use either here). I will be happy to select my clothes out of a closet rather than a suit case.

Joe and I are already planning a trip back to China. In my version, we head back in a couple of years to adopt another baby. In Joe’s version, we come back in 16 years or so for Eleanor’s heritage trip. Either way, we are coming back.

Eleanor is doing great! She eats like a champ and is pretty happy overall. She seems to only get crabby right before sleep times and meal times. She’s babbling more now that she’s getting used to us and she happily shrieks fairly frequently. I am looking forward to getting home and getting her used to some sort of schedule. This has been hard on her, but she is showing that she is an adventurous and curious little girl.

As we say many times every day, we are so lucky.

I took video.

We assume no responsibility for any effects that this magnitude of cuteness may have on you, your mental status, the local wildlife, or your fertility.

You have been warned.

Furthermore, I took a look at our hot water dispenser and discovered a crimp in the supply line. It now seems to be working, or at least mostly working.

The bedding is still damp, even after we asked for new linens last night, but our guide says that’s just the environment, so we can deal. And the food is a dramatic step down from either of our two previous hotels, but it is nourishing and plentiful.

As for the exam, it was reasonably quick and painless. L handled the poking and prodding wonderfully, and only cried when the doctor busted out the tongue depressor, which thankfully was the final test. I think it helped that MaMa is a nurse and knew what to do to keep her still so that insertions into ears and other orifices could be as quick as possible. It also helped that she didn’t need a TB test — so no needles.

I’m pleased that the doctors who examined her seemed to be observing sterile procedure, unlike the doc we saw walking the halls in shorts, sandals, a lab coat, and nothing else.

Guangzhou is funny. This is where the US Embassy is, which means that all US couples adopting from China need to pass through here. As a result: so many white people! It’s become a bit jarring to hear native English speakers after a 10 days of Mandarin or broken English. I feel like we’ll suffer culture shock once we get home. I know blue sky is going to seem magical.

And now, a few more pictures. Here’s a view from the third floor courtyard in our hotel:

Here’s the reverse view. See the tiny sliver of a corner of the arch right above the column? That’s our room. The only window in our room, in fact.

And here is our baobei (“precious,” or more accurately, “The Preciousss”) after her medical exam.

Incidentally, speaking of medical issues, we’re astonished by how quickly Eleanor has healed from the heat rash and random scrapes she had from the orphanage. Do all kids heal crazy fast? Because we’re pretty sure she’s Wolverine.

The day started well enough; Eleanor had a rough night last night but woke in a fairly good mood. We hung around the hotel and had Happy Family Ball time (look it up) (wait, probably better not to) until our guide arrived with Eleanor’s passport, to take us to the airport at 2:00.

At least, that was the plan.

Turns out, this morning someone carried out a huge bank heist in Chingqing, and much of the city was blocked off or drastically congested due to police searches. As a result, our guide wasn’t able to get to the adoption center to pick up the passport. Not a big deal, since they can just courier it over, and we had another form of ID for her that was acceptable for domestic travel. But it added just a little additional stress to the already stressful prospect of taking our new child on her first air trip.

The good news is that she handled it like a champ, flirting with everyone in view and not fussing at all during takeoff and landing. (We theorized that her cleft palate allows her sinuses to equalize pressure instantly. Unexpected bonus!) She had a couple very minor and brief meltdowns, but aside from incessant squirming managed the flight very well, even when the 1.5-hour flight turned into a 2-hour flight due to a delay on the tarmac.

Still, it was of course a relief to finally exit the plane for our final stop before heading home. We were thrilled to see our bag come out early on the carousel, knowing we could get back to the hotel in time to get her to a reasonable bedtime.

Trouble is, that was “bag,” singular. And we checked two. And once everyone else on our flight had left and our second bag hadn’t appeared it became clear something wasn’t quite right. a very nice baggage host approached us and asked if there was a problem. We gave him the number of the absent bag, and he peeked behind the curtain to see if it just hadn’t made it onto the conveyor. That gave us a momentary hope, which was soon dashed when he informed us we’d have to go to the baggage office and fill out a form.

Have you ever lost a bag? Have you ever lost a bag in a city where you speak only the barest minimum of the language, and the locals speak only slightly better English?

It’s a blast.

After about half an hour of very careful negotiation, we submitted our form, crossed our fingers, and headed out to find our ride. A very nice gentleman who didn’t speak a lick of English was holding a sign for us, escorted us to a large, rickety, manual transmission Vanagon-like transport, and squeaked us across the city to our hotel.

The Victory Hotel is one of a handful of hotels on Shamian island, a delightful little French Colonial area where the US Embassy used to be located. The island — as best as we could see in the dark — seems lovely, draped with hanging moss, ornate metalwork, and a French vibe. We had high hopes for the hotel.

Let me back up a moment. I haven’t said much about the hotel we were staying at in Chongqing. It was a Le Méridien, a high-end Starwood property, based in a bustling shopping district. It was stylish, well-appointed, and supremely comfortable. Honestly, it was one of the best hotels I’ve ever stayed at, and I’ve done a lot of traveling for business. Everyone seemed to know our names and how long we were staying. Everyone offered to fetch things for us, even when we weren’t with Eleanor. When we pressed the button for the elevator, a light lit up to show us which door to wait at. It’s was that kind of place.

The Victory? The lobby smells like a wet dishrag. There is apparently a new building and an old building; I sincerely hope we’re in the old building; otherwise I fear for the health of anyone staying there. We got in late enough that we just wanted to order room service. Kim’s tuna croissant looked like dog food — used dog food. The beef brisket in my noodles was unexpectedly…crunchy. Our bed is ominously damp.

I wish I were exaggerating. The best part: it’s about five dollars cheaper a night than the Le Méridien.

There are upsides to this location, fortunately: for one, there are faucets for purified (oh god I hope) drinking water, which means we no longer have to brush our teeth with bottled water, which has been a bit of an annoyance. There’s also a fascinating contraption called a Rabbit which dispenses hot and cold purified water, eliminating the need for the electric kettle. [UPDATE: When it's working. Which it isn't. Which we just discovered when L woke up in desperate need of a bottle. Awesome!]  And the room is a suite, which should make rooming with The Small Human a little easier. And, um. Free Internet?

Hey, at least it’s only for five days.

In all seriousness, we’re here and we’re healthy and we have little to complain about. I’m sure everything will seem better, and drier, in the morning. Meanwhile, we made it here with the only really important piece of baggage we have, now.

Anyway, I wish I’d thought to try what you see in this video earlier, but by the time I’d thought of it she was already wearing herself out. Still, if you turn up your sound you can hear her — and though you’ll have to take my word for it, I assure you that she really is trying to sing. She only has vocalized like this when music she likes is playing loud enough for her to hear.

Today we head for Guangzhou, our last stop in China, where we’ll rejoin our group, have Eleanor’s medical tests, visit the US embassy for her papers, and do some more sightseeing. I sure hope all the other families are doing as well as we are. Otherwise they’re likely to hate us with a white-hot fury.

On the other hand, L had a hard time last night, so maybe the joke will be on us.

Seriously, why don’t these things come with instruction manuals?

Ni hao!

There are not enough words to describe how full of love I am right now.

I am so in love with our baby. She is now reaching out to us both. She is quick to smile, quick to laugh, and falls asleep easily. She loves to eat almost everything, but especially baby mum-mums. Our box is running low and we are going to need to find an alternate soon! She had her first Popsicle today at the zoo and enjoyed it after getting used to the cold. She is just too precious for words, especially when she sings. Her little voice melts my heart.

I am in love with my husband. Joe is an amazing dad. He is so kind and gentle with Eleanor. He sings and rocks her like he’s been doing it forever. I especially love the look on his face when Eleanor reaches out to him…it is magical.

I am in love with the Chinese people. They are kind and have an amazing sense of humor. They are quick to smile and everyone seems to have a joke to tell. People are definitely curious about us, and frequently talk to us to practice their English. It is very clear that the Chinese people love babies. We can’t take Eleanor anywhere without people talking to her and fawning over her.

I love Chinese cities. Both Beijing and Chongqing are huge, and both cities have expanded greatly in the last 10-15 years. It can be hard to find buildings older than this. The people are polite and, aside from bars on all the windows, there doesn’t seem to be much evidence of crime. The cities are not as clean as someplace like Chicago, but there are constantly sanitation workers out picking up garbage and such. The ground is filthy due to people spitting…a lot…even inside. Plus many of the little kids wear split-crotch pants and can be seen peeing and pooping right out in public. There is no “5 second” rule in China. If it hits the ground, don’t eat it. The stores are fascinating and the skyline massive. These are cities that go on forever. This is an energetic and active place.

I love our guides both in Beijing and Chongqing. I feel safe and comfortable with them. We have seen some amazing sites since we have been here, thanks to the people guiding us around. Today at the zoo, our guide Michael even carried our hot little bundle of joy since Joe and I were clearly melting from the heat. These gentlemen have navigated the Chinese adoption system for us so that we can focus on Eleanor. I will forever be grateful.

I love Chinese super markets. They sell everything. The packaging is awesome. They are huge. They are crowded and noisy. Unfortunately, they don’t have baby mum-mums. I also wish I had the opportunity to try out the produce. We’re not supposed to eat the produce unless it’s cooked and we have no way to cook it.

I love Chinese shirts with English sayings. My favorite so far as been “Puma racer! Run fast!” with a picture of a bike on it. They’re awesome.

I love bandanas. They are good for catching excess juice and formula. They wash easily and dry quickly.

The list could go on forever, but you get my point. Life. Is. Good.

The list of things I don’t love is pretty short: wicked heat, baby constipation, being sick during the most awesome trip ever, and the lack of Facebook.

Another thing I love is the sound of my baby waking up…which is what she’s doing right now! I’m off to be a mommy.

I also took a couple short videos of the immediate area. This one is the front of the hotel at night, lest you doubt me when I say Chongqing is like Vegas. That building with the waterfall effect? That’s a bank. The Chinese Agricultural Bank, in fact.

Finally, here’s one for the Ventrescas and anyone else who is aghast at the idea that they don’t have car seats here: Chongqing traffic. This is not a particularly strong example, but pay special notice to the merging procedure. Is there room in the next lane for the front of your car? Then put it there, brother!

Today we took a brief tour through some of Chongqing’s old areas. Now we’re off for a little walk with the girl and then some dinner. She’s getting more comfortable every moment, and we finally figured out why she was having trouble with the bottle: apparently at the orphanage they serve their bottles much hotter than you’d think. This is no problem since hotel rooms in China all come with electric kettles. It’s a relief to finally have her eating the way they told us she did. To be clear, we weren’t concerned about her eating enough food; she is whatever the opposite of a picky eater is. But she just wasn’t interested in the bottle, which they told us she was. So it was a small concern, now alleviated.

Okay then, we’re off. More soon.

Love to you all,
-joe and Kim

Anyway, here’s as much update as I can muster. Yesterday afternoon we headed across town to the adoption agency, where we would meet the caretakers from the orphanage. And oh, also, our daughter.

The way our guide explained it, I was under the impression that we’d start in the waiting area, move into an office, and then they would bring Eleanor to us. However, as we were sitting, I noticed a woman walk in with a small girl. A very cute, small girl. Our cute, small girl!

The next few moments are kind of a haze. But I do remember this: Eleanor did so very not want to leave her caretaker. As soon as we picked her up she pretty much lost her s…tuff. Of course, that kind of sucked…but it was also a very good sign. It tells us that a.) she’s able to attach to adults, which not all orphans do; and b.) they’re taking good enough care of her that she really preferred the company of her nanny.

So for the next half hour or so, while we processed some paperwork, she would basically freak every time she saw or heard her nanny. However, once we left, she started to quiet down. And then Kim had the very mom-psychic idea to shove a Cheerio in her face. From then she was ours.

She zoned out on the ride back to the hotel, then was clearly overwhelmed (though not crying much) when we got here. For a couple hours she wouldn’t let us do anything but feed her. I mean, we could pick her up and hold her, but she was just clearly not at all interested and would start fussing immediately, and pushing away. And man, she is both strong and limber. She pushes away hard.

But then, like a light switch, all of a sudden she was digging our company. She was actually reaching up to be held, and clinging tightly when she was. She almost fell asleep doing this:

And then she crashed at her normal bedtime (8-8:30). In the morning she woke early (5:00ish) and fussed, but completely accepted our comfort. And pretty much all day today she’s just gotten more and more comfortable with us. We even went out into the mall next door to pick up some things. She was a champ.

(This is probably getting incredibly boring for those of you who aren’t parents. But hey, this is my blog. I can be That Guy here if I wanna. Deal.)

This afternoon we also went back to the adoption center to sign the last papers. They had a little ceremony for us transferring guardianship of Eleanor. It was kind of cute. They gave us a gift of beautiful chopsticks, which we’ll probably hold to give to L for a significant birthday or event. And they took an official family photo for the file. I think we’ll get a copy.

Afterward is when we went to the mall. I feel like I’m forgetting something. Oh, we took her to breakfast this morning, which she dug a lot. And dinner tonight, which she did not. I think she slept shorter last night than she’s used to, so she was crashing out on us at dinner. We kept it relatively low-key for the other diners but left a disaster for the cleaning staff. Sorry, folks. (What I did learn at dinner: my daughter seriously digs tiramisu.)

But wow, is everyone here so friendly. This morning, they just comped our breakfast because the staff was so enamored of Eleanor. At dinner, one of the hostesses held her for a bit and just fawned over her. And this was after we’d already destroyed our table.

It’s not just the baby, though that certainly helps. Everywhere we’re going, people want to try out their English on us. I keep trying to explain to people that a.) their English is great, and b.) we really should be speaking their language. But that’s a hard concept to communicate simply. I wish we’d taken some basic classes before coming. My handful of phrases don’t help much with the (few) folks who speak no English whatsoever.

For lunch today I pantomimed a chicken.

That’s as good a note to end on as any, I guess. But I’ll leave you with what you’ve probably been coming here for anyway: more pictures!

More when brain resumes functioning.

It’s 11:45 am here now, and we’re just killing time until 1:20, when we head out to the adoption agency and, y’know, get a kid. This morning we had a spectacular breakfast in this spectacular hotel’s spectacular restaurant.

Then we went to Walmart.

The most important purchase was this stroller:

Yes, it says “Happy Dino.” Yes, it has a picture of a bunny. Why do you think we got it? This is primarily for local and airport use, just a light, cheap thing that’s easy to carry and won’t be a major loss if we lose it.

We also got some bottled water, since Chinese municipal water has explosive results in the American gastrointestinal arena. (We actually have to brush our teeth with bottled water. They breed their bugs strong over here.)

What we did not get: any of the live turtles, frogs, or eels in the seafood section. (See Instagram for proof.) Nor any chicken feet. Maybe next time.

Safe in Chongqing. City is awesome. Like New York, San Fran, and Vegas rolled into one. Hotel is brand new and gorgeous. Huge mall behind it the size of Garfield Heights. Locals giggle at us a lot.

Today was lower key than previous days but still busy. Went to a very old part of Beijing, rode rickshaws, dined with a local family, visited the Hard Rock Cafe. Seriously. A wedding was going on there. Guests were leaving with centerpieces while we waited outside. I asked to take a picture of one, thinking Monica might find it interesting. So he gave it to Kim. She later traded it for a silk scarf at a fashion knock-off store. It looked like this:

Then went to the airport to come to Chongqing. And I think we’re up to speed.

Tomorrow at 10:00 (Monday, or 10:00pm Sunday to you Clevelanders), we meet with our guide to fill out some paperwork. At 1:30 we head over to the local adoption center. At 2:00 we walk out with a small, strange human.

Help.

No, I kid. Honestly, I think we’re as ready as it’s possible to be. Not saying that’s all that ready, of course.

Provided I have the mental bandwidth, I will try to post some pictures tomorrow so they’ll be waiting for you when you awaken on Monday. Meanwhile, please enjoy these:

The lobby of our hotel:

Our room:

And another shot of our room:

Notice anything unusual?