be gone

not that we'll miss you.

March 1st is the first day of spring according to the Ukr'n calendar...and I'm all in favor. I'm sure we'll have nothing but blue skies and sun now...

Happy Spring!!

Saturday's are like that

I'm going to go ahead and get myself in trouble right here and say this reminded me of my friend Gwen...
Now I'll tell you why... G used to say: Wear black- it'll make you look 10 pounds lighter... then she'd cackle evilly and say- so you look like you only weigh 198 instead of 208

And did you know G is coming to Europe this summer? And our paths won't cross. Where, I ask you, are her loyalties? Her priorities?
Oh- you mean that's not the issue. I reckon not. Sighhhh. But I had hoped.
Instead of Gwen, I'll see slices of France and Belgium... (feel sorry for me). For awhile I was getting a small specialty cookbook from every country I traipsed through; then I quit. But I think I'll see what I can find this summer.
For someone with a love/hate relationship with cooking, I sure do love cookbooks.
Actually- my love/hate relationship has a whole lot more to do with how fussy the eaters are than anything else. And believe me, if you're fussy, if there's going to be more than the usual kitchen stress going on- forget it. I'll see you after I get back from McDonald's.

We had a good day- went out to our village people. It's been quiet, peaceful out there the past 2 weeks- only Mom and a few of the kids plus the live-in border home- all the docile kind.
Today, Dad and the rest of the kids were back in full force, along with the usual assortment of people wondering in and out. Their kitchen is like the local coffee shop- come sit a spell, have some tea (Ok- so it's a tea shop), do a good bit of yacking, story-telling, fibbing, hand-waving, laughing, leave at your leisure. All this time, Mom is moving between the sink and the table, passing out bread, filling tea cups, buttering Jr's bread, shoving cats out the window, dishing up whatever's on the stove- today that was buckwheat (it's good with a little mayo on it) and spicy Korean carrot salad- the salad is out of sight delish. Lots of pepper and garlic with a few other things thrown in. Made with hot oil.
Their family is big plus there's usu a few extras living there so the table is big. Like a big long picnic table with a bench along the back and one end and an odd assortment of stools covering the rest of the area. My spot is at the back under the window- so I know about every cat that gets shoved out; Phyllis gets the end.
She had company today. A 60ish neighbor. He's about 5foot8, going to seed with a nose. And glasses. His nose and glasses are fascinating. He's the biggest liar, too. But the kind that tells hilarious stories... makes you wish you could write them down, along with the unique flavor that he is- it'd be a bestseller. (speaking of unique flavor- halitosis sort of fits, too... like I said, he's fascinating)
Today he got to telling about working as a baker- thankfully he's retired now. He was always partly drunk at work (I'm just quoting him- he was proud of that fact, actually)- so he'd forget some of the yeast (twice- each time they fined him nearly 50% of his month's wage- he didn't forget again, no matter how tipsy he was); then he forgot the rest of the water, turned on the mixer, it ground to a halt relatively fast and the dough was like cement. He dug all that dough out and divided it up amongst the other half dozen or so mixers (all huge, mind you) in the factory so as to avoid paying another fine. (I'm sure that day's bread was really special.)
Another thing they did regularly- each take a couple of the eggs they were supposed to be using in the bread- take a raw egg in its shell, tuck it into the middle of a loaf of unbaked bread, mark the loaf, run it through the oven on the conveyor; when it came back around, they'd each take their loaf and dig a perfectly cooked hot egg out of the middle.

Once the factory had too much yeast; bosses told them to mix it with boiling water and pour it into the sewer. I forget just how much, but it was a huge quantity of yeast. And they did it.

And there were a hundred other stories. Like Phyllis says, it's like going to see a play- people drift in, out and across the stage and we watch. And laugh. I did a lot of that today. Wish I'd gotten a pic of the nose... he wears it well.

one more after all

I'm no good at this...but I'll bet some of you are. Mental Floss' quiz today: Pro teams whose names don't end in 's'

what's this?

It's a stove. (bottom pic is best) Wood-fired. Don't see these so often. Our friend took us to see his mom and sister. Sister was in the kitchen making lunch. She has these big iron pots, narrower at the bottom than the top. There are holes in the front part of the stove (sort of like a shelf- opens up into the oven beneath); holes have concentric iron rings in them, sort of like man-hole covers. Take out enough rings (depending on pot size, desired heat) and set your pot down in the hole. She had a long-handled pole with a curved collar-thing at the business end; the collar fit around the bottoms of the pots and that's how she moved them around. It was fascinating to watch, for sure. The pix don't do it justice- could have sat and watched the fire awhile! It amazes me that all the food for a large family is done like this; she bakes bread here, too. It's a heap of work. Must be fun in the summer...

ok- last one tonight. Good night and Sweet dreams!

It was cold that day

these pix are from a few weeks ago. It was plumb cold that day. Karen and I out at the side of the road waiting for the bus. This is one of those stops that if they stop to pick up hitch-hikers, you jump in.

No, I don't know what was up with me... but might this be why the train conductor that night thought we were nuns? (It couldn't have been because of K's hot pink coat). I think I look mysterious

Or like some Mother Superior... or do they wear white? I'll have to check on that...

And if you were wondering, we'd had fried potatoes for lunch that day... and I love love LOVE those mean little things!

loaded baby...

spotted at the grocery store yesterday.

The first thing I noticed were all the toys/diversions at the front of the stroller for Baby. Like most babies here, though, Baby was so tightly wrapped up that there was not the slightest chance that Baby could ever reach out to touch or play with them... and you know what? That baby looked bored out of its gourd. Of course, Baby might have been about to drift off to sleep.

The much more remarkable thing, though, were the groceries... literally falling off the stroller. Mom's arms were completely full, too; not sure how she could still manage the stroller...and I'm even more curious about how she made it home.

So if you have kids- aren't you suddenly glad to have a car in your life? I've always admired parents who can actually manage to get on with some kind of life while keeping kids alive...

I'll bet Mom was just glad Baby was quietly bored.

the camera

there might have been a mention earlier about a camera that needed fixing... went to pick it up the other day. first shot just to make sure it really does work. Is this a good time to mention that they did it as a warranty repair... I was trying to pay and the guy was looking at me like I was a collie that had mastered the art of speech... but not comprehension. I know I told them when I dropped it off that it was NOT under warranty... besides, I never produced a warranty, so what was the deal? I finally decided- If that's the way you want it... and left.

So, outside. Yes, I did mention that camera...well if the place where the repair people AREN'T is in a scruffy area... this one is an even scruffier area. The complex the service center is in is not too bad... but it should be no surprise that they're all behind big fences with security guards. You can't get into that place if they don't have the gate open for you.

Oh yes- and we have snow.

sighhhhhhhhh

And when we won't have snow anymore, we will have mud... But- we are used to these things...

Outside, the sharp smell of coal smoke hit my nose. See the smoke coming out of that nearly-visible chimney over there? The fantastic thing about those little structures- they are sort of like storage sheds- all the same, for the most part, but there are rows and rows of them in that lot (and in lots of other similar lots)- they are little garages. Not very many apartment buildings have parking garages; if there are 20-30 buildings in any given area (I'm guessing- but the residential areas of this city are solid apt buildings), anywhere from 5 to 15 floors per building and say 10% of the residents have a car (again, a guess- not a lot of people have cars)- well, you're out of parking spots in no time flat. So, this is the answer. Our landlord in L'viv had a 30 min walk from his garage to their apt. Anyway- the more industrious have little coal burners in there and a heated garage! (You can even keep your chickens there... and I've seen one converted into a cozy little living space- the solution for a young married couple just getting started in life.)

I guess this car got evicted from its garage. Near Julie's we saw one of these several months ago. 1st day- it had been in an accident. Then the vandals came by- glass is the first to go, tires punctured. Next, they feel compelled to pound it in various places. And then they set fire to it. All within about 2 weeks' time. Then it disappeared.

ok- so the front of the garage lot.

Then out to the main road- tram tracks running through the pic.

Oh- and we've had a bit of ice on the sidewalks around here. It all got scared and melted away today though... right before the sun got busy somewhere else and it snowed... again... tomorrow's sidewalks should be interesting.

there was a tree still clinging to its leaves... didn't have the heart to tell it they don't do much good in this weather...

The tram stop... with a dose of graffitti. Graffitti has blossomed since the fall of Communism. It's 'Western' therefore we must have it.

Nosy cement mixers (also depressingly idle) spying on the neighbors.

So- yep, the camera works. And it's mine if I want it... now what should I say?? hmmmmm

;)

I know zip zero nothing about taking pix- aside from the fact that you have to push a button... so this should be fun

And I apologize... you're free to leave whenever you want. Don't tell me- you already have...

a brief look at TB

This started out at the bottom of last night's last post, but I'm giving it its own post since it's completely unrelated and it IS important. For one thing- this is a prime reason why you should not stop taking antibiotics until you've finished the full course that was prescribed...and you shouldn't be taking them unless they're really necessary... I have a few soap boxes- I guess some of you know what they are!- and this is one.

In other news- these 2 articles were on my feed reader tonight. I post the links here because, although most of us in the West don't know much about TB (thankfully), it is very much a part of life here. There are all kinds of reasons- some of them are actually blog-worthy, just not tonight. (We had a scare about a month ago when a lady we often visit, someone who sees 1001 people in and out of her house each year, was sick, likely diagnosis of TB; thankfully, it was just 'leftover' pneumonia (what is that, anyway?). I give you: tb article #1, #2 and #3. Consider yourselves lucky.

everything you never wanted to know about Ukr'n verbs

When a person gets something so amazing as a 5 year visa to stay somewhere, it's not because they're just waltzing around looking purty (ha- of course, maybe that IS why!!! I crack myself up even if you're not laughing)- so mine is for working on Ukr'n verbs... you know verbs- those things that mean action. Karen and I have long tossed around the idea of doing something with verbs. There is very little good material available for Eng speakers studying Ukr'n... esp not written by Eng speakers- this is vital since the Eng speaking mind just sort of arranges itself differently than the Ukr'n speaking mind- there are circles and swirls and all kinds of interesting little nooks and crannies in mine, anyway, where there is just nothing but solid black ink, narrowly spaced in the Ukr'n one...not to mention that they do dips and dives where I think it would be best, really, to just sail straight ahead.
So- enter the Ukr'n verbs project- where we look at the most frequently used verbs in Ukr'n, group them according to root verbs and talk about the various prefixes and how they change the meaning of the verb.
See- Eng builds sentences with lots of little words and phrases- in fact, English just loves phrases...adores them.
Ukr'n verbs are fantastic (and horrifying) in that there is likely 1 verb (no 2 or 4 or 10) for every tiny little nuance of meaning- if you're crying or suddenly crying or totally-completely-bawling-your-head-off crying; if you're going once or often; going out, going by, going through, going beyond, going across... each one is a different verb- same root but slap on a prefix and you've got yourself a new unique and very specific verb. There is perfective and imperfective, too. I love it because you can really express all kinds of fantastic nuances with just a twitch of the prefix... I hate it because there are acres of room for errors- like foreigners Just. Don't. Get. It.
So- we've taken a list of the 3000 mostly commonly occurring words in the Ukr'n lang, sorted out the verbs (there are 884!) and now are trying to begin to make order there. Wow. Wheee.
Geeky
Some stuff of note- the verb 'to hang yourself' occurs more frequently than: to hide, to announce, to be sick, to suffer, to perish, to cut, to drink (as in alcohol, not just any liquid), to clean. Interesting... Or depressing?
You can begin verbs with a double 'v' sound, since the letter в (Ukr'n 'v' sound) is also a prefix all by its powerful self.
Hit, beat, spank can all be portrayed by the same verb; add a prefix and you can kill, completely beat up, jam up (as in have a crowded bus).
How's this for tongue tricks? Sya-ya-ty- means 'to shine'; Vy-yee-zhdjzha-ty- to drive out of, away from. You can begin words with 'vzn...', 'vru...', 'hv...' and a host of other amazing and twisty combinations. All those things your 1st grade teacher told you were impossible- those sounds just can't be made together? Ha- Oh Yes They Can.
I could bore you to tears (or to sleep if I haven't already)- but trust me, it really is fascinating. It's also HUGE... What have we let ourselves in for?
I'm glad I have (are you reading this, Karen?) 5 years...

When Harry Potter Saved my Life

;)

Well, sort of. Living in a foreign country is exciting- at first. Then comes the part where you realize you're going uphill in a stickshift and you'd better shift down down dowwwwwnnnnnn- what you hope is that you've got enough momentum and umph to get to the top of the hill; better hope it's not too big a hill, too [speaking of- do any of you remember trying to make the hills and curves down by Shoals, IN, in Rachel J's stickshift Oh about the summer of '95, '96?;)]

So- some people are in 'head start'- these things happen to them sooner rather than later. I'm not- I'm slow. Always have been... proly always will be. I was sort of sailing, drifting, flying along merrily the whole first year I was here and into the 2nd year, not really aware of reality or something. Don't know just when it changed- I do know that the apartment we were living in at the time evoked a jumble of feelings in me- pre-Communist era, it could have been wonderful- very old, fairly well-kept, very high ceilings (18 feet, as I recall- is that logical?), neat old ceramic tile heating stoves in the 2 rooms and the kitchen; also cold as kraut, extremely dark (no surprise with those high high ceilings), all windows facing north and looking out onto a narrow street with another building too close to allow for any sunshine ever- I always felt like that place swallowed me whole and dumped me off in a dark pit. I still have visions of darkness with little tiny circles of light where the lamps were- and I have not been able to tolerate dark rooms, hallways, spaces at all ever since- except when I'm trying to sleep. I craved fresh veggies, esp leaf veggies for years afterwards. It took me awhile to realize that I was heading for big problems there- psychologically, emotionally. Part of my problem was the pressure of speaking and reading Ukrainian- I was relatively fluent, but I hated the fact that I was having to use it. Let's face it, if you're living some place long term, you do yourself no favors at all by clinging to another language exclusively. Of course, you can always quit- throw in the towel, say It's too much, I need to go home, I am going home. But, like a good friend has said, I was too stubborn to quit; I hate the thought of being a quitter. There are enough things in my life that were left undone, not done well enough, whatever. I wanted to make it; I knew I could... well, I hoped I could.

So, sometime- I'm not even sure just when it was- Feb? March? sometime about then- I was sort of keeping my head above water, barely. Bill and Vasyl came by. V is perceptive- a whole lot more perceptive than I'd ever given him credit for. His eyes were twinkling as they came in the door. He had a brown paper package- Just a little something for you, He says.

I rip into it. I mean, next to being with good- best, in fact- friends, mysterious packages are about as good as it can get.

And I found the first Harry Potter book, in Ukrainian- fresh off the press... and not cheap in local currency. I could have cried; or hugged him. I managed not to do either, but he did know just how much it meant to me. I read that book- the first thing I'd managed to really successfully read and understand in Ukrainian... and I've never looked back. It was the turning point for me.

That day a good friend become more special than ever... and Harry Potter did a good deed.

going back through various comics I saved...

This one is for my li'l Bro Ken. Once upon a time he was a (poor, neglected, underfed, all-alone-in-the-big-bad-world) college student. I can't exactly remember what I was doing at the time- still in college? Working? No idea. BUT- I was always the Big Sister. Period. And I had some free time and I had to go check on my poor helpless sibling... big surprise- there was laundry to do. Heaps. I've always loved to do laundry, this is just my thing (I think I also likely cleaned his apt that day- I hope he doesn't still hate me for it...)- Well, I head on down to the laundry room with his collection of quarters. About an hour later, I'm back. All done? he wants to know. Nope- out of quarters I say. WHAT? (him) Well, yeah- that's a lot of laundry you've got. Well that should have been plenty of quarters; I don't have any more- I'm not rich you know... how many loads did you do? Two should have done it...

This one- ha! this is for some dear old friends back in Indy. See we were there the day- the very first day- of Mr Hubby's retirement. Mrs Wife is an old hand at homemaking, she's a fantastic cook, she's on top of it...all... And we know her well enough to know that offering to do dishes and being refused means just that- No, but thanks for the offer. Because sometimes she'd say OK. So, lunch passes; Mr Hubby's a great joke teller- one of the best, in fact, and I'm sure we had some great laughs; but as I remember, Hubby was also sort of at home, if you get my meaning- like, Hmmm- I'm-not-so-used-to-having-you-around-all-day at home. Then the Clean Up. Dishes? No thanks. We fade back to the dining room... but not before we hear Mr Helpfully-Cheerfully-Retired-and-At-Home Hubby say Honey, this dish towel is wet. Do you know where I can get another; have you got any idea? (this is where Jane elbows me and says Let's go for a walk. And we did. And all was quiet when we got back...and they're still surviving retirement!)

Being sick is a good way to get caught up on sleep. At least it's a good excuse to lose the Battle of the Bed. Don't think that was Calvin's problem, though...

This last one... ooooo

Dedicated to the Red Thread Gang (mind you, with nothing more in mind than a shared dislike for chomping)

Dear Landon... you forgot something

It's been a good week, if a bit frenetic at times (did I use that word right? hmmmm... google is a great thing)
Tonya and the boys left Wed eve; we bid them good-bye after lunch and then I kept an eye on their f/b page till they got safely to London. Why is it that I- someone with no kids, no heavy-duty responsibilities in that sense- feel compelled to worry about a perfectly capable adult mother of 4-now-5 travelling with 2 of her brood? I don't know- but I did.
Speaking of T's kids, here are 2 of them! The 2 L's at the immigration Dr's office, waiting for Liam to have his checkup and hepatitis shot. Boys do not have to have a common language if they have gameboys... It is a good thing, though, that there are 2 gameboys...
It was pretty neat watching these 2. They love being brothers (for now, anyway); I'm amazed at the things boys do- punch, tackle, rough-house. You don't have to start life on the same continent to gravitate to these things.










so the above pic was taken at the Dr's office- the day that the embassy was so obstinately closed. The next day had the good sense to not be a holiday. So, while T and Li went off to do embassy things, Landon and I stayed home. First, he played cars and wars and robots and all kinds of things that 6 year old boys can think up to do- And tell me this, if you will- How on earth do they make the chug-chug-chug sound with their lips, tongue and who-knows-what-other parts of their oral cavity- you know, the one that can be a tank or a robot or a car or a tractor? How come you lose that ability as you grow older? Can you still do it? I didn't think so. Landon can... for hours.
Here he is with part of his collection of stuff... And don't you just love that missing tooth?














Well, besides cars, robots and gameboys, Landon LOVES Uno... I mean he is addicted to it. And if you think a 6 year old can't play Uno; if you think you have to be nice and not lay down the nasty cards because he's just a kid and don't play for blood- HA! Think again. The kid is a killer Uno player.

And one more Landon Uno factoid: His joy is in playing the game- he doesn't throw a fit when he gets the Draw Four card- he picks up his cards. He plays mean but takes his licks and keeps on going. I was impressed. (I also don't need to play Uno again for awhile, Thanks much.)

Ah yes... Landon forgot something... what was that?

cough sneeze hack blow

He forgot to take whatever was junking up his sinuses, nose and chest, that's what. And I've got it. I haven't spent this much time in bed in a long time- I'm sick of it. But it's about all that sounds good. Except hot tomato soup. And orange juice.

Thanks for the good times Landon!

This is the local cat- she lives downstairs in the entrance of the building, has her own little padded pet house down there. She's a good cat- purrs on command and responds favorably to attention but doesn't get obnoxious. Amazing... (and don't you love the green tint to the background? Don't ask me what it's from- it sure isn't green down there...)

Oh- and I heard tonight that Ecuador is about to declare bankruptcy... and Ukr is trying to beat them to it.

So what happens when a country goes bankrupt?

President's Day...

is an official holiday.

For real? For real... we found that out when we got to the American Embassy this am only to find that the only employees there were the guards... After getting up really early in order to compete with rush hour traffic and still be there as close to 8 am as possible... sighhh

So, what were we doing there? Remember this, this and this? (3 posts where I wrote about the adoptions we've been watching, in case you don't want to go look them up.) Well, E&M and kids got out of here long ago; T&T are just finishing up. Dad had to go back for work; Mom and their youngest biological child are still here...and now they have custody of their new son, too. (No pic of them yet.) So, all flights have been booked and they're fired up about leaving (I can't imagine why...); just have to do the last stuff- medical clearance and US visa. Off we go- and I go, too- there's a slight chance that I can be of some use and a very large chance that it'll be interesting as can be.

So- you get the picture. We arrive at the embassy and realize we'll be spending the afternoon re-booking flights... since the embassy thinks President's Day is big stuff...

Technically, I suppose this is the facilitator's fault- she gets paid to know stuff like that and make this long process as painless as possible. She's a really great person, though- hard to be too hard on her... especially when she's already obviously 'gotten it' from some other source; she didn't have a good rest of the day, for whatever reason.

Met another couple with their new daughter, age 6. She's a doll. It's been interesting watching these parents and the very deep and real bonds that have formed with children they just barely know- but have been loving from afar for awhile already. Except for 1 or 2, all the kids I've seen while knocking around Kyiv with E&M and T&T have been at least 6 years old. Communication is an issue. Often the child is quiet and watching everything with big big eyes... and pressed up tight against their new Mom or Dad. It's also been great watching them play- it amazes me how these kids interact with their new parents- peek-a-boo at any age, hand games, making faces, giggling, shy pokes and taps and lots of delighted laughing.

We've heard a lot of stories, too- how the different kids came to live in an orphanage- stories that make your heart ache, bring tears to your eyes. Children whose parents died- because of various things; children who were abandoned- (one tiny 5 year old weighed 22 pounds was abandoned at birth at the hosp; obviously has some sort of developmental problems but was as sweet as could be); children who were neglected and removed by the State. Ukr'n law states that if you're adopting a child who has siblings, you must take them, too- unless they're already in a stable home situation. One little boy, reunited with his younger brother after more than a year apart, told me: I always wondered what it would be like to have a family; now all my dreams are coming true. He'd spent the day with his new family doing normal family things- and in a quiet moment, while people were milling around and saying good-night and such- he tells me this. I wanted to bawl and hug him... instead I smiled and squeezed his shoulder.

Oh, these have been special days! Adoption certainly isn't for everyone- and you have to be emotionally and mentally ready for anything (the family getting the tiny 5 year old mentioned above?- they'd sponsored another child (or 2?), made visits and become very attached- only to arrive to the orphanage the last time and be informed that an Italian couple wanted those 2 kids and only those and, in spite of the children's pleas and tears, they went to Italy with people they didn't know... most likely because of a bribe paid to some official)- but Wow- what it is when it's right. I know some of you who read this have 'been there done that'- and I know, I've heard you say: We're the lucky ones, these kids are so special. But I'm here to tell you- You are also very special and the kids, too, are lucky. All the Best... and loads of hugs and whatever else it takes! xo

fyi

I've written about our family background a few times. Several months ago, I came across a link to a very interesting blog written by a man who grew up Amish; he's had some very thought-provoking posts lately- and often writes about his Amish background. I wanted to post a link here to his page and to some of his specific posts. With his permission, here they are:
home page
an Amish funeral
here and here and here (these 3 about 1 man- interesting look at the practice of 'law enforcement', excommunication in the church)

fly lady

That's me... cause I'm flying by today. And this is my website...and this is all you get... so forget your messy house, settle in and put your feet up cause fly lady just had an attitude adjustment and found out she likes herself better this way...
So, today was a day for errands. Around 1, decided to stop flying and have coffee... which I did- to the delightful accompaniment of some singer who either is or isn't driving home for Christmas. The next song wished us all a Merry Xmas and a Happy New Year...and then there was White Christmas. The first xmas song I heard here in Ukr was at McDondalds in Lviv with Jim and Caroline... in March... so I guess we're actually early still. Who knew.


So, fly out of the coffee shop, down to the underground passage...there's an older lady down there busking... you know, she was singing and you could give her money for it if you wanted- and let me tell you, she was good...very good. I bought batteries nearby just to hang around and listen. So, after the battery sale is completed, Mrs Busker abruptly stops, so I look. Well, that bane of a quiet and peacable life- a drunk- was hanging onto her- he must have had something very important to say. She didn't exactly look happy about it and people kept right on marching by, so I sort of ambled off to the side where I could, you know, keep an eye on things because I really had to install those batteries right then and there... he was rather a large person, so I wasn't too anxious to jump in but I had a hard time walking away, too... so I stayed and watched for a min or so. Just when Mrs B started to look truly distressed (how would you like a drunk literally hanging on you, blowing his smelly breath in your personal breathing space and pushing you?) and I decided she needed my help- in swoops a man from out of nowhere- young, about 30. He puts his arm around her shoulder, turns her away from Mr Drunk and starts earnestly talking to her. Mrs B looks like things are moving rather fast for her and the drunk looks confused and I decide to just hang around and make sure we don't have 2 bad guys here... But Mr 30-something is really nice, he sort of maneuvers her away from Mr D and then Mr D just looks confused and shuffles off... and Mrs B has a 100 hryvyn bill shoved in her hand by Mr 30-something and then he left, too. I smiled at her, she smiled back. It was too good to miss.


So next, we stop at the electronics store to ask where to take P's old camera to have it fixed. Well, I'm thinking it's up north at a certain place, just don't have the address anymore and it's a shot in the dark, basically, trying to get there- better to ask I decide. Mr 20-something- very friendly, helpful, eager and so forth- he's just that. Gives me an address but has no idea how to get there. Can't find the street on my map. He finds it online and prints the page off for me... see how helpful and all that he is? Of course, this is at a completely different location than I had in mind... hmmm... well- off I go.
It starts to drizzle.
I get off the metro at the right stop and head down a big hill. Looking at my map. A few turns but things aren't quite matching up with the map... finally figure out just where I am- and the street that I want should be right here- like between this corner and that bridge up there- head off towards the bridge- on the wrong side of the street- very busy street and no crosswalk (and in case you're wondering, you can now get hefty fines for jay-walking in Kyiv...and there are people around to tell their sad tales of that)- so what to do??? I'm tired. It's drizzling... dart across the first 3 lanes and wait in the middle- a line of cars cresting the hill at the bridge and I decide- you'd better go now cause there's another mess coming from the other direction- so off I go... right in front of... pass out
you got it
a cop...
fly, lady, fly...
I nearly ran up the hill. Risked a glance over my shoulder-the cop has pulled over and turned his overhead lights on... I'm in shock...(I mean- I do not need to have that kind of hassle on a foreign passport, I can tell you that much)
I kept moving- uphill (this might explain how I missed something vital)- anyway- I never did find out what that dude had pulled over for but not me...I think I lost a few years off my life right then, though
So, on I go. Over the bridge- this isn't right. Re-examine the map. Two, in fact. I obviously missed my street. Back I go. No street. I must be in a twilight zone... did the cop scare me so bad that I actually disapparated or something? Am I still where I was? Yup.
hmmmm
Then I see people materializing *poof* onto the sidewalk in front of me... just about where I landed when I was fleeing from that cop. On closer investigation, I see



a set of steps,

does this look like someplace you'd go looking for an electronics repair store?

a secret passageway,

a parking lot at the end of it...

and a street out in front of that. The poor street just sort of dies there but it is there...

It's nearly magic, really, the way they've gone and hidden that street down there in some other dimension nearly.

So- find my building- security guard out front. Can't get past him without paying in blood- tell him what I need. Oh, he says; They moved. To Obolon metro stop (this, I might add, is where I thought I needed to go to begin with but because sweet nice still-has-acne just-out-of-school Mr Helpful says otherwise, I've come here)

Wow. Mr Security Guard writes down the exact address for me, tells me which tram I'll need and a whole lot of other helpful stuff... I do the last 20 min in reverse. Including the jay-walking. Excluding the cop and the hunt for the street. Hoof it all the way back to the train station and start again.

It starts to rain.

Wade through puddles, turn corners, talk to tram drivers, passengers, people on the street- fly lady's wings are getting tired and I just don't want to do any more of this extra stuff...

More security guards, gates, doors, armed complexes (well it feels like it)- ahhhh- a nice well-lit reception room, people who are helpful and really truly know what they're doing, paperwork, receipts... call back in a week. I'm gone.

It rains harder.

One more errand- looking for a bus that our very dear and very truly very nice friend insists exists... and all the nice people at the very muddy and puddly bus stop say- Up There. Where- in the sky or what? You think I really can fly? There are no more lines of people waiting for buses, no more spots at the curb for buses to pull up to... but plenty of muck to wade through. There are just no more options for this potential bus.

And it's getting dark by now.

The bus is a phantom... it must be. I leave. Someone will have to disillusion it... or me... or something.

It starts to snow.

I go home.

It snows more... and more...

And the canal out front's freezing again.

On the up side, our from-out-of-town friend can't leave town tonight after all, has more job training tomorrow and we have a very pleasant post-supper chat with him. He's the dad of these dolls.

Oh- and I had fake baked nachos for supper... with lots of salsa and cheese.

Fly on, lady, fly on...

chatting with Miss JM

Awhile ago, I chatted via webcam and skype with my little Owen nephie... he's got such a deep voice and I hadn't ever chatted much with him; when I last saw him, he was only 1 1/2 after all.

Well tonight I called my sis- it's her birthday today!! :) Somebody urgently needed Momma's help so Miss JennaMae sat down in front of the webcam and began telling stories- like lots of them. Mind you, I couldn't get every word- but it was hilarious. I've hardly ever chatted with her, either- she's always been too bouncy and such, can't slow down long enough to really focus you know. Well tonight... tonight was a good one. After a few minutes, I started saving screen shots from the cam which I just now cropped. Here she is!

she was mostly telling about her little sis, Miki, being sick- apparently it's been memorable... she also covered Madagascar, making cookies with Maxine and Daudy (GrossDaudy)'s death. Needless to say, the facial expressions were the highlight of the conversation!

Here she was telling me: Princess thinks my hand is an ice cream cone! (Princess is the dog- was licking her hand)

Miki had a few things to say, too... she's the sick-o... poor kid

Ah- my sis! So, hope your Birthday was only getting better, Sweet Sis-o-Mine! xo

smuggling revisited

Heard an interesting tale last month... true story about someone I know...only I can't remember which someone exactly- but as you'll soon see, that's not all that important. Remember this? And how it happens every time the trains cross from here into Poland? And how our dear Fellow Ukrn's (well, OK- so I use this term somewhat loosely since I'm not exactly a Ukrn and since I don't actually know any smugglers...but I have been in close proximity with a few)- so they love to smuggle- or some of them do. Pirated/fakes/whatever-you-want-to-call-it goods made here, packaged with a famous name brand label, smuggled into Poland and then sold for supposed instant profit.
So, my acquaintance had been here in Ukr visiting us, in fact (imagine). He takes the train back to Poland where he tells this rather interesting story. Finally got through all the Customs stuff, Border Patrol is off the train, train is moving once more...and even more importantly, the toilet has been opened for business again... in he goes. At some point during his 'stay' in that little tiny room, the ceiling suddenly opens up and a lady drops down out of there, nearly on top of him... no joke... Just a smuggler, getting all her wares together into one bag again...
I heard this story from someone who'd been on the train and watched the whole thing happen. (important point- vodka is often carried on the smuggler's body, in sealed clear plastic food storage-type bags- long and narrow. Then the smuggler lines his sleeves, pant legs, whatever with the bags... you get the pic.) So, this one woman has been strapping them all over herself- like she looked like one of those life-size helium balloons by the time she was done- all taped on with packing tape. She can barely move- can't really bend her arms or legs-and the weight... mamma mia... and it's hot... like really hot... with all that plastic and such. Well at this particular border crossing, all passengers had to get off the train and walk through the customs area. This woman gets part way but then tips over... and there she is, rocking around like a turtle on its back... and she can't get up. No. She. Can't. (this was pre-Obama, apparently) Pre-Bob the Builder, too (and if you get that connection, you've got a 3 year old in your life!) The border guards are standing around laughing. Falling over themselves laughing. No one lends a hand- they know what the problem is. Finally the man in charge says, Lady, if you can get up on your own and walk across the border, you're in; if not, we ship you back. Well, this is just the motivation Miss Turtle needs- with a final heroic heave, sweat pouring off of her, up she gets and toddles off. And true to their word, they let her go...

More meandering

I've never actually played this game but have heard (and seen) a whole lot about it. So, when I saw this, I had to look! For the Catan fans out there... check this out! :)

This is the school my dad attended as a boy... pic showed up in a photostream feed and I thought it looked familiar; Mom confirmed that it is the one- about 1 1/2 mi from Daudy's farm. It has fallen into major disrepair; my childhood memories of it are a tad less rundown! This is just in front of the school; taking the road just barely visible at the right side of the pic would take you to Daudy B's. The other road in the pic is a windy, meandering piece of work. I've always liked the area- quiet and very rural. Homes are well-kept.

This one is dedicated to Ethel... who isn't on a diet, per se... but close enough. I feel for her. I really do. So enjoy your peppermint tea Miss E and hang in there!

And this is me just now... flickering away like the cheapest of light bulbs... here I thought that was because of the poor electric supply/wiring... who knew it might be the light bulb's fault?!?!?!

hook, line and sinker

I bit- the new (for me) blog virus...

Lucky you! The first five people to respond to this post will get something made by me! My choice. For you. This offer does have some restrictions and limitations:

1. I make no guarantees that you will like what I make!
2. What I create will be just for you.
3. It'll be done this year. (might be a little while)
4. You have no clue what it's going to be. It may be a story. It may be poetry or an article on properly cleaning your face before a masque. I may draw or paint something. I may bake you something and mail it to you. Who knows? Not you, that's for sure!
5. I reserve the right to do something extremely strange. The catch? Oh, the catch is that you must repost this on your blog and offer the same to the first 5 people who do the same on your blog.

The first 5 people to do so and leave a comment telling me they did win a FAB-U-LOUS homemade gift by me! Oh, and be sure to post a picture of what you win when you get it!So....who will be the first 5 people?????

I've been catching up with various things all evening- had another white sheet moment- am eating soda crackers to compensate. I think this is fitting, though... I hear ya, Linus, I hear ya

and the next time someone asks why I wear glasses, I have a new answer all ready for them...

part of catching up is clearing out my google reader feeds- where I found this post on what we call 'avto-stopom'- as in, I went there 'avto-stopom'- it means you didn't have a bus ticket, you just hung out beside the road and flagged down whoever would stop. Oh, so you think that's hitch-hiking??? hmmm- well, it sort of is- only here, there is often a spot where many people collect who are heading in a general direction. Any driver looking for a bit of help with gas $$ swings by and fills up with passengers if they're heading his way. Here, we sometimes hold a sign with our destination on it (as opposed to the driver posting a sign). We've had some interesting rides that way... some forgettable ones, too. The DC people must be might generous if they don't want a few bucks, that's all I have to say about them...

more google reader stuff. Mental Floss 50 States quiz... fun

this Bizarro made me LOL go Louis L'Amour!!!

this from Neatorama- for all my I-can't-get-enough-of-trams-in-my-real-life pals... (direct link to page make sure to click on the Eng lang button if you want it to make sense)

making cheese... I think I might figure out how to make real honest-to-goodness cheddar cheese. Yes, you can buy 'cheddar cheese' here, but believe me, in this case, it belongs in quotes... it tastes like every other cheese... And I do miss cheddar cheese... sharp cheddar cheese... oh. my.

and this one; now if I only knew why eating raw onions make me sick... and what to do about that (since the national food here seems to be salads made with raw onions); well ok- one thing you can do is dice the nasty things and then put them in a small kettle, cover with equal parts white vinegar and water, liberally sprinkle with black pepper and then bring to a boil. Remove from heat, rinse onions and use. Sure they have a slightly different taste but they're tolerable... in fact, they're not too bad like this... and double in fact- Alleykat, I totally take issue with you on your recent point made somewhere that we always eat hamburgers with raw onions so as not to get sick because of anti-bacterial properties of said villainous onions... you won't get sick eating a hamburger that's got raw onions on it because.... (bom-ba-duh-bom) You won't eat it!!! hahahahahaha Well, I won't get sick.... (and does anyone else recall a certain 3 year old who looked like he was 8 helping chop raw onions in the salad dept at Menom one year? So what's up with that, anyway- I mean, why were we doing it???- well anyway, he put matchsticks in his mouth... can't remember how that was supposed to work, but we were all so desperate that we tried it...)

Yes, there is more important stuff going on; I think it's called a mental health break... or some such thing.

Vernon Daudy

It wasn't a long wait... My little brother, Ken, skyped an hour ago with the news; I'm glad he and Miss and the boys could be there this weekend. My little sis, Gina, is looking for tickets to fly back. They were still trying to get in touch with my other brother, Paul. Dad and Mom are with Dad's family.

Last night before going to sleep, I was remembering Grandpa. We always called him 'Vernon Daudy'- 'daudy' is 'grandpa' in their/our dialect; Vernon is my dad's only brother and making his name part of Grandpa's title made it clear to us kids which Grandpa we were talking about, a common practice among the Amish. He was always a big gentle man (I thought of him as big; in reality, he wasn't all that big... just bigger than me). He loved to hold little kids and I'm sure I had 'knee time' when I was little. I was born when Mom and Dad still lived with them, but Mom and Dad moved to a separate place fairly soon after that. When I was little and we'd go to their place, he was always out working- I remember walking back across the pastures with (Aunt Luella? Uncle Vernon? Dad? not even sure who now) looking for Grandpa, finding him back there in a field or a pasture... we roamed Grandpa's cow barn, too. It was an amazing place- in my memory. I loved to be down in the 'kee schtall' when they were milking... and I loved to hang around the tank where they cooled off the milk cans- they milked by hand, poured the milk by the bucketful through a filter into big metal cans, then fitted a lid down onto the cans and stood them in a tank of cold water. Someone told us we'd drown (this is how I remember it, at any rate) if we got into that tank and I was fascinated by it. There was a stock tank down in the lower part of the barn, too, that fascinated me even more- I suppose it was 'drownier' or something- it was certainly dark. Later, Grandpa and Grandma built a 'Daudy Haus' (Grandpa House) just up the hill from their big old house and moved into that so that Uncle Vernon could live in the big house with his family. In the early years after moving into that smaller house, Grandpa still spent lots of time outside and stopping by the house wouldn't necessarily find you Grandpa. The last times I was there, though, he was nearly always sitting in his big chair in the living room. He looked cold a lot and had slowed down so much. After I graduated from high school, I never was around that part of the state so much again, so the changes were more dramatic. But Grandpa was there, in the living room- he liked to hear about what was going on. Where are you? What are you doing? Is it interesting? I think he suffered from depression the last several years- sometimes sitting there and crying. Most recently, they were worried that he'd fall- he already had and with no phone in the house, there was no way to get help fast if there was a need. People had to stop by often to check on them. And they did. Uncle V and his large family just down the hill on the home place- they have one daughter, Susan who is the unabashed pet of the whole family- and she's a cute sweet little thing. Our cousin Ray and his also large family right across the road from them. And then several daughters and their families nearby; my dad about 20 min by car- they all checked in frequently.
Our family history includes awkward times, especially with my dad's family- but Daudy's love towards us grandkids was never a question.
He was 88 and 4 months. In April, he and Grandma would have been married 68 years.
I have one pic of him- a not-very-good one from my brother's wedding- taken from a distance. Dad's side of the family has never been keen on having pix taken- but the wedding photographer, a friend of Ken and Miss', pretended not to know and just shot away at the reception. The pic is somewhere in my stuff at Dad and Mom's. Last night, I was really wishing I'd insisted on getting pix of all 4 grandparents when I was home...

Just after my 'big career change'- back in 1994- a soon-to-be coworker and I were driving through the town I've always thought of as my 'hometown' even though I've never lived in it. We were headed down the side street by the dentist's office- she'd never seen a lot of Amish people and we may have even been up at Mom's parents that day, don't remember. There was an Amish man walking down the sidewalk with his back to us and she was noticing him. I said There goes someone's cute little Amish grandpa. We drove past and I looked back and pulled over. It was my Vernon Daudy. He was glad to see us. :)