Questions Answered

Before I get started let me state the we will not be giving the DVD Annie to anyone at the shower this Saturday. Martina and I finally watched Annie from beginning to end and we noticed some language (in Annie!!) that would make it inappropriate to give it out at a church gathering. We did like the songs though.

Maybe instead of that DVD we will give a sham-wow to whomever comes closest to guessing Rachel's true age. As Vince from sham-wow says, "it's made in Germany. You know the Germans make good things..." At any rate, we now have a doctor's report on Rachel's true age and we will reveal it at the shower this Saturday. Maybe we can bring the drum from the sanctuary into the Fireside Room for a drum-roll when we announce it.

I entitled this entry as "Questions Answered" because obviously there have been many questions answered lately, but I wanted to address the questions many people have about Rachel and our decision to adopt, to adopt from India, and so on. Also, I hope to nudge some of you who have expressed an interest in also adopting a child from India.

First: why India? While I know that Indians aren't perfect, in my and Martina's personal experience with Indians, it seems as if this is the group that has the highest percentage of friendly people. That's it! Like I said, I know Indian's aren't perfect, but there you have it.

And here is a key concern, not only in adopting a child from India but adopting a child from anywhere, and I am totally serious here: no dirty diapers to change. Of course you can always adopt a newborn, where this won't apply, but one of the thrills I have had in the back of my mind is that I won't need to change any dirty diapers if we adopt Rachel, who looked at least 2 years old in our earliest picture of her. There might be some usual disgusting things that all parents must do in other areas, but dirty diapers will not be one of them.

(Speaking of bodily functions, I have a recent success story to report. As every adopting parent would admit if they were honest, the whole going-to-the-restroom-with-your-new-child-nearby is a certain fear. Well, as of yesterday coming home from work I proved I was up to the task. No details of course but you get the point.)

And the cost of adopting from India: pretty high. And I have no problem in giving specifics if someone were to ask me in person. We were told in one of the seminars we had to attend to try and not be offended by this question, but I see it as a perfectly reasonable question. And I am willing to give the benefit of the doubt if someone asks it the wrong way.

For example, "how much did you pay for your kid?" is a question I have asked to others, but only as a joke to someone who has their kid in their shopping cart as they leave Costco. The more appropriate way to ask would probably be something like "I am thinking of doing what you and Martina did in adopting a child from India. When I am done, about how much will I have paid?" The point is that Rachel or any adopted child is not a puppy and the cost question should keep that in mind, even if someone stumbles over their words in asking.

The good news on the cost is that whatever you spend winds up being a tax credit, meaning that once the adoption is final, you will get to count your expenses as part of your tax bill already paid! Check with your accountant to make sure -- meaning don't sue me if this doesn't apply to you. But I for one am not dreading April 15 as I used to.

And what about the whole "new parent" thing? What is it like? We're talking feelings here. The expression of feelings that make grown men who barely know each other hug one another. Well, as a new dad I can say it hasn't really sunk in yet. I have heard this is what it is like for some of the less feelings-endowed.

But Rachel is not really my first anyway. When I married Martina, she came complete with three wonderful kids who never needed to have a diaper changed as long as I have known them. As Martina said when we first met, "my kids are just great little people." And they were. I know they had a biological dad and I was the step-dad, but I feel as if I had some hand in raising them and I "feel family" with them. Great little people have now grown to be great adults.

One last question to answer: what about the whole "mixed race" thing. Martina and I are pretty traditional white, Christian, heteroexual, generally conservative people. And we adopted a child whose skin is darker than many African-Americans I know. How is that?

When we were going through the adoption process we were constantly asked how we were about this. We were going to have under our roof a child whom some would see as a different race. Honestly, it has never really registered with me as an issue at all. To this day it even bores me a little even to discuss it, but that is what a blog is for, right? Posting boring commentary? Yes, boring stuff, that racism issue. Really pretty boring... Ya know...

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Sorry, I just fell asleep on my keyboard! Seriously! Sorry for the gibberish. I guess that makes my point. Rachel is our child and I don't care about her skin color or perceived race. (I just hope the drool on my keyboard doesn't cause any problems.)

So there you have it: questions answered. Or at least some questions. I would definitely recommend doing this to anyone. Ask if you have any questions.


More of our pictures are going to be like this. Whenever Martina or I pull out our camera, Rachel has to take some pictures.






Here Rachel and I are posing on one of our ATV's that is not moving at all. Because Rachel is not 16 or older, that would be illegal, don't ya know...



Regarding sham-wow:
http://www.sham-wow.com/?videoID=ai187&bufferTime=5

To the Doctor!

Today we went to see Dr. Wong, Rachel's new pediatrician. She was wonderful! After an exam and some observations of Rachel's chattyness and drawing, Dr. Wong gave the opinion that Rachel is ....between 4 and 5 years old. But she ordered a bone age x-ray that should give us more specific information. I'm guessing closer to five than 4, but we'll see what the radiologist says. We may know by Friday. Here's hoping!

Because Rachel's records are so scatty, Dr. Wong ordered her to start over with new shots. She had FIVE!!!! today. Poor thing. She was not brave. Neither were Mary or Nathan. So, no shame in crying. Nathan kicked and screamed so bad once that the needle broke off in his little leg and Mary kicked the Dr. so hard in the ...a...groin....area that he stormed off and said, "forget it."

Annie on the other hand was totally brave. (BTW, Olivia is just like Aunt Annie. When I was with Ollie for her last set of shots and asked her if she was scared, she looked at me with contempt and said a simple "no." I was embarrassed for suggesting it.)

Next post should include Rachel's age!

--M

Height/Weight growth charts

I entered Rachel's height (40 inches) and weight (32.5lbs) on an American children's online chart http://pediatrics.about.com/library/growth_charts/ngirlstwo.htm and it showed her to be about 4 years old. I then entered her centimeters (101.6 cm) and kilograms (15kg) into an India Children's growth chart http://www.indiachildren.com/htwtc.htm and she came out at ....4 years old.

I asked the Kaiser pediatrician to order a bone age x-ray for next week so that we have it for her pediatric appointment on March 3rd. Hopefully, that will be approved and we can get some accurate information to go with our adoption forms going to the judge.
-Marty

Becoming part of the family

Annie and her new baby sister















Most of these pictures were taken by Rachel herself!

Taco with Daddy at Jack in the Box.

Baby James

Sister Mary Grace and baby Matthew. (No, she's not a nun, I just love the names Mary and Grace!)

We've had a wonderful past few days.

As you know, Rachel has been to court with Daddy. This actually a family tradition. Over the years all of the kids and a few of the grandkids have spent time in court with either me or Tom. I remember the judge calling me to the bench once to point out that Nathan, who I had stashed in the safety of the jury box, was beginning to snore. This will live in infamy. Rachel, for her part, just smiled a lot and said her trademark "hellloooo"!

Annie and James and Mary and Joe and the brood all came to visit. I think Rachel and Olivia are now best friends. They seem to be about the same age (five.) Both parted with many tears. I was sad for Rachel, but also delighted that she loves Olivia and that she is so close to her emotions. She does not seem to be an "institutionalized" child. I praise our Lord for placing her in such an excellent orphanage where she clearly was loved and well-taken care of.

Tom and I have been praying for this little child for the past year that she would be happy, safe, and loved while we waited out the bureaucrats who finally granted her release to us. Mommy and Daddy. Now, she is home for good. It feels like she has always been here.

Praise you, Lord Jesus!

--Marty

Two Weeks Today!

Rachel has been with us now for two whole weeks. The amount of English she speaks and the even huger amount she understands after 14 days is really astonishing. All my children to this point have been genius's (which I don't know how to spell, so they are smarter than me...), now I see that Rachel is following in this proud tradition.

She spoke to her Grampa Thurlow on the phone today. Saying "Hello, Grampa!" and "I love you!" Then she spoke rapid Marathi telling him all sorts of happy things. We can only guess, but I think it had to do with her excitement over her jean skirt with poodles all over it.

Tom finally finished his blog entry below and added pictures, so if you think you read it, try again. The only pers0n up on this that I know of is my precious Emily.

Tom is at "the Walmart" with Rachel right now buying some bananas and a trash can for her room. It bothers her silly that she has no place in her room to put trash. She has assigned a bottom drawer in her dresser for the bits of trash, like price tags from new socks. She hates mess. Weird. Anyway they are off buying a small trash can which she will pick out. This will be more exciting for her than for most people (um, like me.)

Annie is coming today with Baby James! So are the Webers. (The Beaches will be along in two weeks!) We are so excited. Pictures to follow.

love, M

Rachel In The U.S.A.

Before I get started I wanted to note the anemic response to the Birthday Pool that Martina posted a couple days ago. Did we mention there are prizes involved?

That's right: the prize for the person third away from guessing Rachel's age is the stub from my boarding pass on Rachel's return flight to the U.S. Suitable for framing!

The prize for the person second away from guessing Rachel's age is my Starbuck's gift card. This gift card was given to me for Christmas, starting with a balance of $15, and now it has a balance of $4.12. That's right! It might not be enough for a "Venti" anything but it will definitely get you a "Grande" Frapuccino, Mocha, Latte, or any coffee drink sold by participating Starbucks coffee houses worldwide.

On a more serious note, the grand prize will be the DVD "Annie." Winners will be announced at the shower that will be held for Rachel, February 28 at Grace Church in Napa. Admission is free.

Well, here we all are back in the U.S.A. Martina got a 1-day flu, so I took Rachel to court. I had one arraignment at 8:30 in Napa court, then two pre-trial conferences on the 10:00 calendar. Rachel sat quietly for the arraignment, which took about half a minute, then we left the courtroom. Before we left the bailiff in that department, who until now has not been gruff, but very business-like, gave me an expression that said "aw, she is so cute." I had never seen an emotional expression on that guy's face.

Then I went to the clerk's office downstairs, where from time to time Martina and I had told them about the adoption that was in the works. I also knew it would be a slow time in the clerk's office.

All clerks there was TOTALLY ENTHRALLED with Rachel. Swoons of "how cute" and "she is just adorable" filled the clerk's office. I think they even called out the supervisors and research attorneys. Swooning was all around.

Everyone was trying to meet her and shake her hand, and we will need to work on Rachel meeting people, shaking hands and saying "nice to meet you." She also might have been a little confused by some of the Hispanic women who tried talking Spanish to her. But it was almost a party there with Rachel as the toast of the town. As we left the clerk's office, someone shouted "Bye Gorgeous." I turned around and said "Are you talking to me?" Everyone had a big laugh, but I didn't think it was that hilarious that someone would refer to me as "gorgeous."

After a couple of local errands, Rachel and I returned for the 10:00 calendar in the courthouse, which was longer than the earlier court appearance. Rachel sat in the courtroom and was quiet and well-behaved. An hispanic woman tried whispering some Spanish to her.

When we were finished, we went downstairs to the clerk's office to finalize the paperwork for one of our clients. The clerks resumed their celebration of Rachel right where they left off, and now there were some people standing in line who also joined in the Rachel love-fest. It got so intense that I was almost worried someone would lift Rachel up on their shoulders and parade her around to wide acclaim. That's where I drew the line. No lifting her up on anyone's shoulders.

This got me thinking: it is too bad this is such a racist country. As Martina and I were taught in the many seminars and required readings that we had to experience before we could adopt, America is a thoroughly racist country. Thoroughly! Whites hate blacks and hispanics, hispanics hate Asians, who in turn hate Native Americans. No one can understand teenager language anymore. Indian-Americans and Native Americans are constantly annoyed at being confused for the other group. And Eskimos, well, they hate everyone because they are so eager to get drilling jobs in ANWAR, which keeps getting turned down by Congress. You get the picture. A cesspool of hate.

This really is an awful country -- racist to the core -- as exhibited by this parade of swooners in the Napa court clerk's office. (OK, I'll tone down the sarcasm now.)

Later on I took Rachel to our acreage and we planted a couple of olive trees and spread some straw (this is a soil erosion thing for rural land). Although she wasn't too happy to do any of this, she kept offering to help. Pictures to follow once I get the computer to cooperate.

At first Rachel wouldn't help me with my chores so I found a boulder for her to sit on and watch me work. I think she'll be a good union employee someday!

Once I got Rachel to help me plant the olive trees she insisted on doing work that I thought was too intense for her. Here she is shown carrying one of the posts used to stabilize the tree.

After we were done planting two olive trees we spread some straw around our property. Rachel helped out.

Rachel paused to take a rest next to one of the olive trees we just planted.

Later on Martina got Rachel suited up for bee-keeping, so that Rachel can help tend to the bee-hives on our property. This bee suit seems to fit Rachel perfectly!

Birthday Pool !!

Ok, here's the thing. Rachel's records are a most definite piece of fiction. As I posted before her records were written with one pen in the same writing over an 8 year period. (That's right 8 year period because the records have her receiving some of her immunizations prior to being born!)

So, I am in the process of setting up appointments with Kaiser for a pediatric evaluation and hopefully, a bone-age x-ray to establish her true age. According to her records she was born on July 17, 2001. That would make her 7 years, and nearly 7 months old. Some of you have now met her, so you may be at an advantage.

Fun facts. She knows her abc's, but not how to read. She can write her name in Marathi (its really pretty), and she knows the numbers 1-10 (thank's Holly for discovering this.) She also spontaneously burst into song at Raley's grocery store singing "Head, shoulders, knees, and toes" at the top of her lungs. She is waay cool, this child. I love her.
So, enter by adding a comment to this post or for the severly blog handicapped you may email me at mhatty@aol.com (Cindy, this means you!)

love, Rachel's mommy

Back Home In The Napa Whine Country

Here we are at home again. We made it. With a little money to spare – actually we just spent that money getting some clothing for Rachel. But we are home anyway.

See, a bunch of friends gave Rachel clothes, t-shirts, dresses, shoes, that kind of stuff – which was really appreciated by the way -- but everything wound up being too big. So we are just putting the clothes towards the back of her closet and feeding her lots of protein.

The trip back was almost an experience of its own. First off, our overpriced hotel, The Imperial, kind of redeemed itself. Apparently the crowd at the front desk thought Rachel was so cute they all went in on a Barbie doll for her. Rachel loves the doll, which is blond and lights up. I doubt the front desk people asked for input from the rotten old concierge. Still, the concierge was all smiles as we left, which made me wonder if he was really charmed by Rachel or just relieved to see us leave.

Then to the Delhi Gandhi Airport, which, considering it is named for Mahatma Gandhi, has a pretty decent food court. (Sorry, bad joke -- couldn’t resist. Joking about hunger-striking is really in bad taste, excuse the pun.)

When we all got to the Indian immigration desk we practically got a standing ovation from several immigration officers who realized we are adopting Rachel and bringing her to live with us in the US. One of the immigration officers said "God will bless you for adopting her." I said "He already has."

Another passenger making his way through said he was a journalist and when he heard that we are going to the US with our adopted child he said he wanted to do a story on us. He was a very friendly Indian guy with a turbine (I think that means he is a Sinkh). We all took photos of each other, arm in arm, with many smiles all around. Cynical traveler that I am, I checked to make sure I still had my wallet.

It was still there. The reporter told us he would be reporting on us on the following websites:

http://www.mediapunjab.com/
http://www.europepunjab.com/
http://www.aj-de-awaz.com/

and I can't read his writing on the fourth website. If anyone finds that we really are written about on any of these websites please let me know. I hope the reporter doesn't describe the adoptive parents as "disheveled" but that is kind of how we felt.

The flight home was OK, except everywhere that Singapore Airlines stopped, we had to get off the plane and go through security again. That got old. But Rachel managed to sleep most of the way, so she has gotten over the time change faster than Martina and me.

The next morning we slept right through our alarm clock and missed church. But Martina, Rachel and I went to visit several friends, including Chelene, Marlowe, Geneva, Holly, Walt, and Sharon. To my astonishment I heard that someone had disseminated this blog address throughout the church. I rushed home to re-read the blog and make sure none of my jokes were off-color. Well, not too off-color.

A number of people asked me about the restaurant that never gave us any silverware. On our last full day in Delhi, during our Delhi tour we stopped at the Sheraton Hotel, looking for a restaurant that serves foreign food, but mostly to Americans so it is not too intestinally-exhilarating, if you know what I mean.

We went to a place that served some familiar items, but everything was “kabob” this or "kabob" that. When our food was brought to us we noticed we had no silverware. “No problem,” Martina and I told each other. “We’re world travelers, we can do it. We’ll eat with our hands. Heck, we’ll even drink with our hands if that is how they do it here.”

I’m probably building this one up too much, but we survived the meal eating with our hands. Towards the end of the meal I told Martina that it would be a good joke if they waited until we finished and came to us and said “so sorry. We forgot your silverware. Here it is.”

Well, at least we had cups to drink from, not a pitcher to pour water into our hands to drink.

So that is our experience with the hand-eating restaurant and the trip in general. Not too horrifying, pretty expensive most of the time, and while two of us went there, three of us returned. It is good to be back – no, it is GREAT to be back! Martina and I feel like experts on Indian adoptions, so feel free to ask if you get the urge.

--Tom

Here is one of the first photos of Rachel after she got off the plane in San Francisco. Mary, Rachel's sister, and Joe, Rachel's brother-in-law, picked us up and brought us to Nathan's place where 14 family members welcomed Rachel. I couldn't resist asking Andrew, our 7-year old grandson if he could babysit his aunt someday.

Here is Rachel after a long day's travel in her new bed. That is her Dora The Explorer doll next to her.

Although we never found anything missing, we are pretty sure our house got broken into while we were gone. The burglar covered his or her tracks by attaching an "It's a Girl" balloon on our mailbox, cleaning the kitchen, sweeping off our back deck and hanging up this "Welcome home" sign on our fireplace. We weren't fooled and we called the cops immediately.

Just kidding Holly! Thanks for the homecoming!

Delhi Is Not Hong Kong

We searched for Delhi versions of all our standard American hang-outs and came up dry. I took a late afternoon cabride in search of an American-style mall and also struck out. Let’s face it: even the most well-heeled traveler needs to find a place that reminds them of home. If we were in Hong Kong, no problem. Go hang out at Tsim Cha Tsui (or however it is spelled), or one of the shopping centers next to a Metro stop. But alas, Delhi is not Hong Kong. There is really nothing here that makes an American feel like home. I managed to find a Starbucks Frappucino bottle and that was a great accomplishment. I’ll have to settle for that. We are ready to go home.

But Delhi is not a total bust. The prices are actually OK. Take for example this over-priced hotel we are at: The Imperial. If we stayed in a hotel like this in the US it would probably be over $600 a night, whereas we are paying only $350 a night. Maybe the concierge accounts for the lower price, I don't know.

And the taxi cab rides are not so bad either. This cab ride we took for 4 hours touring the city cost us only $14. Of course that taxi took us to a horribly-overpriced restaurant where they never gave us any silverware (more on that later), but that wasn't the driver's fault.

So basically Delhi is a good, fairly-inexpensive place to go. Just barely exotic enough to impress people that you have been there, but not too far off. And the Delhi Belly thing, well, diarrhea is diarrhea, no matter what clever or glamorous nickname it is given. A sprint to the toilet in Mexico is the same as a sprint to the toilet in India. Well, maybe a little slower in Mexico because you're wearing sandels, but you get the point.

--Tom

Prayer

I realized today as I was dozing off that we have given a bit of a travelogue of our adventures in India. We’ve also given you a peek into our bonding with this amazing child. However, we have forgotten to write what is very much in our hearts. This entire adventure and the miracle of Rachel is all because the Lord is so very good.

We have been praying constantly throughout this journey, especially here in India. As we are surrounded by idol after idol on the walls, in the streets, everywhere, we keep thanking the one true God for His choosing us to parent this little child. We have prayed with her at every meal and at bedtime and sometimes in between. I believe in that future day when she has her own very personal relationship with the Savior. Tom is a real prayer warrior. We prayed at the orphanage, the courthouse, the American Embassy (repeatedly) and the doctor’s office. Our Lord Jesus answered by smoothing the way.

I’m more of a coward. If I said grace in a restaurant it would have been something like, “Thank you, Lord for this food. Amen.” But Tommy prays here in public just as if we were at home at our own dinner table. He thanks Jesus for our marriage, our brave little child, our trip, and of course, our food. Waiters are often standing by waiting for him to finish. I have the most wonderful husband in the world. I wish that all who know him could know his love for our Lord also.

So, we go home tomorrow beginning with a taxi at 4 a.m. to Gandhi International Airport. Then on to Singapore, Hong Kong, and San Francisco. I’m sure we will be praying the entire way.

I can’t wait to get home!

Love, M

Hangin out with Rachel

We gave the camera to Rachel and she took this picture of Martina and me. It might have left out our faces but that was actually OK. My hair was messed up and Martina was mid-blink so she would have looked weird anyway.










Now this photo shows a loyal wife. An otherwise unremarkable photo, but notice that it cuts off my spare tire. All wives should learn from Martina how to take pictures of their husbands.







India Gate in the background.

I had to get this picture of the dressed-up guy in the traditional Indian get-up. The guy next to him invited himself into the picture and I didn't have the heart to tell him to move a few feet to the left.

Some adorable pictures of Rachel.

Rachel about to have another bubble bath, so of course she was all smiles.

This was such a big smile that you can't tell Rachel is missing a front tooth!

Our day trip around Delhi

India Gate from another direction. This monument is very famous.

It became a challenge to take pictures of each other and not have someone walk into the shot. Here Martina got a picture of me, and I think I was sucking in my stomach successfully but this Indian guy wanted to be a part of the picture too.

Some street scenes.

Gee, I wonder why Delhi has so many brown-outs. You think it might have something to do with the electricity over-loads like this one?

A few years ago I could do this without a drop of sweat, like this guy.

More street scenes.

Another famous monument. This time two people wandered into the shot.

I think it is called the Red Gate or something. Well something Red anyway. Very famous.

This place looked famous but I have no idea what it is. I almost made up something clever to impress you, but my honesty won out.

This is part of the Indian capitol complex.

Kind of a round, curvy Parliament building.

More of the same capitol building, and this guy wanted to be in the picture.

This is a famous gate in front of the main capitol rotunda building. Several people wanted to be in this picture and we did not have the nerve to tell them to skedaddle.

This guy wouldn't remove himself from an otherwise nice shot of this capitol building. At least we got him before he sucked in his gut. Serves him right...

This is that round, curvy Parliament building again.

Thursday in Delhi

Here is a photo of Rachel in one of her first bubble-baths. She just LOVES bubble-baths.

Today we were supposed to go to the Taj Mahal but after a nice but expensive breakfast we realized that we were experiencing the "Delhi Belly" which is probably a more ubiquitous Indian landmark. So we stayed in the hotel room and nursed our sickness.

We did manage to go out shopping today, but it was more like being picked on for four blocks. In the process we learned how totally worthless our over-priced hotel's concierge was. We wanted a basic American-style shopping experience where we could buy some supplies for the trip home. You know, batteries for the camera, vitamin C, t-shirts for Rachel. More Pepsid would be nice. In other words, no handicrafts or haggling or offers to take us to a better shopping area etc. etc. etc. The concierge gave us a map and told us we could find anything we wanted about four blocks away. Once we were on the street we were covered with people offering to sell us various carved goods, necklaces, shoe-shines, and on and on and on. For FOUR BLOCKS! One guy never got the message that I did not want to buy his carved snake and I almost grabbed it and threw it into traffic. But I restrained myself and kept saying "No!"

We did see one sad thing, however. As we turned a corner to make our way back to the hotel we could barely see through our entourage an Indian guy in an almost-nice business suit face down on the ground, totally still. A small group of people around him looked at him but kind of shrugged their shoulders. We couldn't tell how long that guy had been down there on the ground like that, but when someone turned him over he seemed to be kind of stiff.

I wanted to try some CPR because I thought the guy was having a heart attack, but Martina, viewer of many more CSI episodes than I, said, "no, he is already dead. RM has already set in." She walked on and I decided to stay with her. I hope she was right. But so far as I could tell no one else was doing anything helpful. And of course we were still covered with this swarm of solicitors, so we were really in full retreat mode anyway. Who knows, if I started pumping on that guy's chest someone might have offered to sell me some used surgical gloves or maybe they would want to offer us all a ride to a hospital further away than the one nearby. Or maybe sell me that carved snake to use in clearing that guy's throat, or who knows... It was all pretty bad.

And what about the people in Delhi? Not just the pests, but the average guy or gal here? The Raj and Indira 6-pack. I for one have noticed many differences between this crowd and the people from Pune. Much more western dress here, and it seems as if the facial features in Pune were more of a Pakistani/Persian mix, whereas here in Delhi it looks as if there is more of a mix with Chinese features. And lighter skin color.

And that head-wagging is not so prevelent here. Oh, that's right, we never explained that. In Pune we started noticing that instead of nodding yes, the people there would wag their head, so that the top of the head would go one way left or right and the chin the other way. I tried to do it myself but Martina told me my neck needed to stay still and the head needed to just wag on its own. And by the time I had this perfected we flew to Delhi where I can't use it as much. The next time I am in the US and meet someone from the Mumbai area I will give it a try to see if I still have the touch. Good thing we have Rachel so I can use it on her.

And speaking of Rachel, she is really loosening up, so much so that we almost miss that shy, quiet girl we picked up at the orphanage a few days ago. She is constantly talking Marathi to us, and we are trying our best to understand her and talk English back to her. Kind of like that movie, 1941, where the German soldier and the Japanese submarine guys are all talking their own languages to each other and they all seemed to understand each other. (The viewer understands too because there are English subtitles. That movie was a classic!) Anyway, Rachel is so energetic and constant that we are nick-naming her "Our Little Monsoon."

Well, tomorrow is our last full day here and then we go home. Everything seems to be paid up, including our return air tickets (Rachel's ticket had to be paid separately -- long story there). I never did care for Neal Diamond music but the tune "Coming To America" is totally stuck in my mind. And not the elevator-music version without vocals -- in my mind Neal Diamond is singing away with that voice of his. Yes, that, well, horsey Neal Diamond voice... It goes on and on... Some people like his voice. I guess.

Till tomorrow!

--Tom

Pics to go with the last two days