Midnight Snack at 9

Life is fun. Here are a few reasons why.

This is the alphabet according to Tucker:

a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y n z

His perfectly logical question: "Why are there two "n's" in the alphabet? Haven't you always wondered the same thing? And why God's name is "Harold" and what in the world a "one horse soap-n-sleigh" is?

Today I got a much needed sleep in. I keep planning to a) go to bed earlier and b) wake up later but life doesn't work that way, most of the time. Which is fine. If you want to live a fuller life, just pretend you're leaving the country in less than two months...or better yet, do it...you're a lot more likely to take the crazy opportunities that present themselves.

A few nights ago I almost made it. I had been writing and just having a sort of pleasant, boring kind of evening, and I looked up, saw that it was 9 pm, and decided, "Tonight's the night. I'm going to bed early. I'm getting some sleep." Then Masha walked in. Since she's recovering from her operation she keeps weirder hours than usual and sleeps for most of the hours other people are awake. Naturally she wants to be awake during the hours other people want to be asleep, and she wants other people to be awake at those times too. Other people means me.

She also wanted pancakes. She has been pining for pancakes for days, ever since that jar of apple jam made its home on our kitchen table. So she whipped up a batch of kefir pancakes with her amazing whipping up skils and I got my little collection of saggy candles, and we put a nice, mellow cd in the stereo, and had what she called a "midnight snack." "Midnight for some people," she added.

I was very glad. I didn't want to sleep that much after all. At 10, Cheryl dropped in. She ate the three tiny remaining pancakes (Masha and I had no trouble doing away with the rest) and visited with us.

Well, for now, I'll once more attemp going home and going to sleep. May your days be full of tea-time conversations and your nights with candlelight pancakes...

Having Tea

Ok, this is for Masha, because she's had a leg operation and I think she needs cheering up. Not that she's not a strong woman and all that, but strong women still need cheering up ;) Be cheered, Mash.

I'm glad Masha is back. (She was gone for her operation and stayed at the Gollans for a few days.) Human beings are very weird creatures and when you are living by yourself you forget how weird other human beings are and begin to think you are the only one who is weird, which can drive a person to a New and Dangerous Level of Weirdness.

You begin to talk to yourself in the mirror to make sure your self is still ok. Sometimes it is, and sometimes it isn't. You start to analyze normal actions like cooking dinner until they appear trivial and ridiculous (going to all that trouble to make food for yourself that you are going to eat by yourself? Come on, have some cookies.) Something inside you wants to have a cup of tea, but what's the point of having tea when no one else is around?

I'm learning this about tea. The point is not tea. The point is people and conversation and friendship. The same goes for coffee. Americans have these drinks so that they can get energy to keep working. Ukrainians have them so that they can relax and enjoy each other. Which I think is absolutely brilliant.

When I came home on Thursday afternoon, a girl named Anya was at our house, having tea with Masha. I had been cleaning and I was stinky and dirty, so I went to change and then came back and Anya asked if she could make me a cup of tea. Masha was tired from her operation and went to lay down. So Anya grabbed some mugs and made tea for the two of us. She handed me my tea and then sat down with Masha's giant red mug.

"I took the biggest mug so that I could talk with you longer," she said.

I like that.

So the next day, when Masha was using her laptop in the schoolroom at the Crowes, I asked if she wanted a coffee. Deb and I have coffee while we're cleaning the kitchen, sort of snatching a gulp here and there...usually there are several mugs of luke warm coffee mixed in with all the other counter-clutter.

"Do you want a coffee?" I asked.

She was sitting with her leg (which was stitched up like a grotesque rag doll) propped on a stool and her computer in her lap, and she gave me a look that was close to her "sassy" look but not quite there. It was more of a "testy" look.

"Well, if you will have it with me," she said.

*Mental Culture Shift*

"Well, yeah, I will!"

And we did. And I liked it.

So now she is home and we can have tea more often. And we can go to other people's houses and have tea, like Saturday night when we went to Jono's for supper (and coffee later) and sang Ukrainian/Russian karaoke. And other people can come to our house and have tea, like Sunday afternoon when Cheryl came over and spent the evening curled up on our couch and then it rained deliciously and was cold out.

So that's one of the reasons I am glad Masha's home and glad that I am in Ukraine. As long as we have "tea" I won't be in too much danger rattling around the house like a babushka and possibly losing all my marbles.

A Nice Song

"At the foot of the cross
Where grace and mercy meet
You have shown me your love
By the judgement you received

And you've won my heart
Yes, you've won my heart
Now I can
Trade these ashes in for beauty
And wear forgiveness like a crown
Coming to kiss the feet of mercy
I lay every burden down
At the foot of the cross

At the foot of the cross
Where I am made complete
You have given me life
Through the death you bore for me

And you've won my heart..."

At the Foot of the Cross (Kathryn Scott)

That song has been on my mind a lot lately and I really love it. I commented to Deb this morning that it's weird how I can be struggling with so many things and at the same time be so happy with life. When you have hope in Jesus for eternity and you know He's going to redeem all things, you don't have to be afraid or worried about the painful or scary stuff. Of course I'm still learning this...but I know it's true.

When I wake up groggily in the morning I remember that the Spirit that raised Christ Jesus from the dead probably won't have a problem raising me from bed in the morning. And sure enough, I sit up, rub my eyes, slip on my shuffly houseshoes, and there I am, up for another day.

Speaking of another new day...there will be one soon and I promised myself I'd go to bed earlier and get some sleep tonight, so since I don't know where this blog post was going anyway...I'll end.

All Roads DO NOT Lead to Kiev

This weekend I decided to go on another little adventure to Kiev. Nadia said she wanted to take me to the Botanical Gardens while the lilacs are blooming, and it didn't take much persuading...

As often happens on these experimental excursions, I got a little more adventure than I planned on :)

After a late pancake breakfast that nearly succeeded in rendering us immobile and useless, Masha and I spent the rest of Saturday cleaning up our yard. The owner is letting us stay for free, provided that we clean up and do some odd jobs around the yard. So we moved sand, raked, swept, and hauled leaves, twigs, and hundreds of nut shells out of the yard on old blankets.

Masha cut the crop of cheery yellow flowers out front with a scythe. I was enthralled. She let me try, and I managed to sort of get the hang of it while still retaining all limbs and personal appendages. It was fun. I kept thinking of the Far Side comics about the Grim Reaper...I can't picture them now.

I was a little sad to see the flowers go (they were weeds-- pretty weeds, but weeds.) She left a patch in front of my window because I like waking up to them in the morning. It helps to have something nice to look at first thing when you wake up.

But on to the important stuff.

I planned to head to Kiev in the afternoon when our work was done, but by the time I'd scrubbed off the grime and soothed the nettle stings and messed with my hair and gone to the Crowes to call Mom for Mother's Day (seeing as I'd be gone on Sunday) it was evening. I wanted to dress up a little (not by Ukrainian standards maybe) because it's such sunny weather and I've hardly worn a skirt in months.

I didn't know when the last Marshrutka was, and I was getting a little concerned that I was too late. So after the call home, Bruce drove me to the bus station to cut the walking time.

Luckily, I'd barely been standing there two minutes when a bus drove up with a "Kaniv-Kiev" sign on it, just like the ones I always take. I hopped on, relishing the swish of my white skirt and the neatness of my small brown shoes after wearing tennis shoes for six weeks. Free as a bird. Experienced traveler. Sun on my face, wind in my hair, etc, etc.

I took a seat by the window and the bus pulled out. I sat happily contemplating the new green of the great outdoors shining in the sun, enjoying the comfortable warmth, the faces of the people we passed, the smells of summer coming on. I started composing a poem in my head and got absorbed in trying to write it down against the bump and bounce of the Marshrutka.

Spring had changed the landscape so drastically since my last trip to Kiev...no more snow, no more drab brown. Green everywhere. Growth. In fact, everything looked so different I began to wonder if I'd...no, no. Surely there's more than one route to Kiev.

I thought it might be worth a bus ride to nowhere just to see these sights. The ride was so peaceful. I shoved aside my internal warning signals and just enjoyed the ride. Besides, I reasoned, Kaniv is just on the outskirts of Kiev; I'll manage to get there somehow.

Apparently, my premonitons were correct, but my reasoning dreadfully flawed. I've never seen Kaniv on a map. I just figured that if they put it with Kiev on the sign, the two must be close together, right? Kaniv must just be a suburb. The bus might not get me there, but it would at least accomplish some of the goal.

No such luck! I still haven't looked at a map, but I now know that Kaniv is a number of kilometers in a much different direction than Kiev. I've also discovered that Marshruktas don't run from Kaniv to Rzhishchiv in the evening, at least after 7 o'clock.

The bus driver pointed out the station, but after asking around a bit I found it to be closed. Nearby there were babushkas selling vegetables, and the sun wasn't going down yet, so I didn't feel too worried. I called Bruce. He said to call Daniel for translation. I called Daniel. Daniel talked to a babushka on the phone, the babushka conferred with a nearby taxi driver, and in the end, I had my first Urkainian taxi ride back to Rzhishchiv.

The ride home was surprisingly pleasant. The taxi driver was friendly, but calm, and I didn't feel uncomfortable at all. He couldn't speak a bit of English, but he spoke Russian in slow and simple fragments for my benefit and we chatted all the way home about taxi driving, and his daughter who works in a bank (I think), and my home in America, and what was growing in the fields we passed, and about the holiday.

There was no Kiev that night! The taxi stopped right in front of my house, because it's directly on the way to the bus station, so I got out feeling like a queen. Of course the taxi fee was royal too, but I'd say it was worth the experience. I don't get out of Rzhishchiv often, and I'm sure I would never have seen Kaniv otherwise. The taxi driver asked me if I took a photo while I was there...which I should have!

Early Sunday morning I started over, carefully inquiring after the destination of my Marshrutka. Nadia and I spent two days running hither and yon over Kiev and I took the subway by myself for the first time, (and never got lost more than a few minutes at a time). I'm so glad I got to go, but it's nice to be back in my quiet little Rzhishchiv again.

Rumple and me

Here I am, holding Rumplestiltskin the hedgehog. Apparently hedgehogs carry diseases, but I didn't know or think about that. I guess we'll be ok. I did wash my hands after touching...