it's long-trust me.

Did you see this comment from Jim on the slideshow post?

There's nothing quite like the feeling of doing something God made you to do, is there Kate?

It is very, very true. God has been generous in His gifts to me. My favorite ones are the ones I get to use in theatre. I just love it! I'm more alert, more alive, more fully me when I'm doing theatre. I feel like more of my brain is being used--that connections are being made and all those right-brain left-brain highways are open and traffic is humming! I just...love it. I like teaching. But, I love theatre.

So why am I not doing more of it?

Well. (Settle in. Make sure your tea is hot and you have something to nibble if you're going to stick around for this one.)

I have been doing theatre for longer than I can remember. I was very fortunate to have parents who let me have lessons in all sorts of things--horseback riding, art classes, dance classes, voice lessons, soccer, swimming, skiing, clarinet, French horn, piano, drama classes...and I'm sure there are more. The skills that stuck are the ones that relate to the performing arts (I'm soo not a visual artist) and the horsey ones.

When I graduated from high school, I went to college to get my fall-back degree. (I was a psych major until I realized that all I could do with that was go to grad school and incur more debt. That's when I switched to education. Teaching is a no-brainer for me--it's easy and instinctual. I have so much babysitting, camp counseling, Sunday School/vbs/Bible study teaching, youth group leading, etc. experience that it was an easy switch. And, I have minors in psych and youth ministry.) BUT, since I went to a private, Christian college out of state I had to get a teaching job to pay off my debts. I could be an actor and starve, but I couldn't imagine being an actor and defaulting on my debts. Oldest child? Virgo? Just me?

When my debts were about a year away from being paid, I started looking at drama schools in England. I wanted to act. I wanted to live in England. (I thought.) What better way to cross two items off my list than to go to drama school there? My theory about single life has always been that I live it--and not sit around and wait to be spotted by Mr. Right. I think people should live so that there aren't things to regret in the future. This theory worked out well insofar as I have checked all the "selfish" things off my I'd-like-to list...but I'm still single, soo...there's a flaw in there somewhere.) I auditioned for a drama school, thinking I'd just go and scope things out to see how auditions for drama school worked and then the next year I could go and really nail the auditions...and got accepted to The Oxford School of Drama.

So I went. I left the best school a teacher could imagine and went. Drama school...that would be a blog of it's own.

I came back to the US and was able to support myself acting for four years. It was amazing--and hard. The hard part isn't the rejection. That really isn't something you take personally. It was exhausting constantly selling myself and constantly looking for a job. As soon as you land one, you need to start looking for the next one. But, I loved it.

Towards the end of that four years, I was talking to a friend on the phone. He was talking about how he had a new client whose Constitutional rights were being ignored. He was fired up and ready to slay dragons. He asked what I did that day.

I told him that my agent and I had been trying to decide how best to describe what color my hair was.

Now, that actually was an important thing. I am (or was when my hair still saw the sun) a natural blonde--albeit a "dark blonde". A big company wasn't hiring blondes for their tv adverts, but they really meant they weren't hiring BLONDES. They were in a non-blonde phase. So, having "dark blonde" on my cv was keeping me from auditions. But, putting "honey" as my hair color (an apt description) was too clever and too...twee. So, dark blonde it stayed.

But the juxtaposition of Constitutional rights with hair color highlighted how small my life had become. Everything in my life was about me--how I looked, what I wore, what I ate, where I went, how I sounded, how I felt. And, that is too small a life for me. I was feeling selfish.

Just as those niggles started, I landed the absolute best job of my life. The very best, BEST fit for me. I was working for a history museum. They paid me to read! I was immersed in social history of the early twentieth century. (I love social history.) I was developing living history programs for the summer. I was putting together programs to take into schools. I was a historical interpreter. (This is a person who speaks to you in character. I played two different roles. One was Sally Lane, a reporter. I had a bicycle and got to talk to people in general and children in particular about how my brother thought is was inappropriate for a girl to ride a bike--bicycles, fashion, women in the workplace, changing roles in society all at once. I got to interview people and tell them about the Wright Brothers. (I could do a whole post about the social implications of the bicycle.) The next summer I played Rose, a factory worker who won $10. I had a Sears catalogue and solicited opinions about what I should buy with my winnings. Being Rose was fun, but Sally was my favorite.) It was everything I loved and everything I was good at doing. I was acting, teaching, reading, writing, organizing...

That's when I felt called to adopt. Now, this isn't like Samuel being called. I didn't sit bolt upright in bed and hear God's voice audibly saying, "Kate, sweetheart, it's time to adopt. I know you love this acting thing. And, you're good at it. I made you that way. But now it's time to do something else. I know, I know--you thought that you'd be married first and then go adopt, but that's not what I want you to do. I don't want you to wait. I want to you start on that path now." But, I knew that was what I was supposed to do. It's both a complicated and incredibly simple thing. I don't know that I can explain it, but if it's happened to you, then you understand. It took thinking and talking and praying and I knew--I was supposed to get my ducks in a row and adopt.

So, I did. I went back to teaching to provide some financial stability. A part of me, a big part of me, was so sad to give up my perfect job, but I knew it was what I was supposed to do. I still miss it. I hope someday to be able to do it again.

Starting to adopt wasn't a big, emotional decision. It wasn't because I had a child-shaped hole in my heart. Yes, I wanted a family, but I didn't have the desperation, I wasn't at the breaking point that seems to send so many people towards adoption. I just knew that this was what I was meant to be doing. So, I did it.

My friend Lara says she gets great joy from being obedient. I can't say that that is true for me. I wish it were! Instead, obedience leaves me with an absence of guilt. That's good. And, I think, it gives me a peace and a security. When people marvel at my patience, I try to explain that I'm not being patient. This wasn't my plan. I am doing what I was told to do, so I trust that it will all come to fruition at the proper time. So, I'm not patiently waiting...I'm trustfully waiting.

Do I understand WHY it's taking so long, WHY I had to start when I did? No. Do I like being in this limbo? Not particularly. Do I feel patient? Not really. Is it even harder now that there is a possible d2b and I have to imagine her waiting day after day without her family when I feel so incredibly ready? Big yes to that one.

But I know that I am doing what I am supposed to be doing. And, until I'm told otherwise, I'm just going to keep doing it.

indulgent

I have a bit of an addictive personality. And, this weekend, I've indulged it...with pistachios and Heroes. And some m&m's. And Coke. (But, Coke is an on-going addiction and not limited to this weekend.)

Why can I afford the luxury of indulgence this weekend? It's because I have all of next week off from school! If you remember from this post, I thought this would be a good time to meet d2b. But...it seems that isn't in the cards. (I told you there's usually a better option...but I keep planning and working regardless.)

No news from new agency about Miss Possible. (Doesn't it feel like forever since she was first mentioned? It does to me. And there's been no news since then.) No reply from sw about updating US hs. No I-171H. Nothing really to work on here...except laundry. There's always laundry. I guess it's time to indulge in a little fluff-and-fold action.

pix as touted

Here are some pictures from our production of Seussical. We had over 20% of our school population involved. With limited resources, a borrowed performance space, and a lot of enthusiasm we managed to pull off a good show.

I didn't take the action pictures as I was otherwise occupied but thought you might like to see some of them. I'll add more when they're available--the production shots are only from the last third of the play. I'd like you to see my little Whos in action, too! (Slide won't let me put in my own music...and, funnily enough, "Oh the Thinks You Can Think" wasn't one of their choices...)

As the ending of the curtain speech goes, "Sit back, relax and enjoy, Seussical!"

borrowed esl story

We had *lots* of zero-English students enter our school this fall. One of the fifth grade students spoke his first voluntary sentence last week.

Teacher, after all but one of her students had returned from recess: Where is Do Gun?

Do Gun's friend, blurting excitedly, with great authority and enthusiasm: He in the closet eating Choco Pie!

My guess is that Do Gun refused to share that Choco Pie.

I think his friend just needed a little motivation to start speaking English. Oh, the power of a Choco Pie!

blah-g

I freely admit that the crickets chirping here are BORING. What's up with that?

Um, I guess...nothing.

I've got nothing here--no news, no angst, no highs, no lows, no nothing.

You don't believe me? Okay, I'll try. I keep trying to disabuse you people who cherish the notion that life here must be more interesting than life in your house. You're so, so wrong. (And you can eat key lime yogurt or fajita pitas from Chili's and get mail every day and shop and...) But, for you--I'll try.

Seussical is right on schedule to peak on Thursday night. If I do say so myself--and I only do because others said it first--pacing rehearsals is something I do exceptionally well. My casts are always ready and always at their best when we open. And yet, when people say in response to my replies that things are a little rough at rehearsal (because we had some rough patches with this one) that it always comes together in the end, I get really angry. It doesn't JUST come together. And there's a BIG difference between what I expect from a show and what most doting parents think is fantastic. I expect, and I get, more. They don't always know it, but I do. And, their children know it, too.

Hmm. I think crickets might be more palatable than self-congratulations. Sorry.

I love, love, love having theatre--in any form--to do. I am happier, have more energy and just have a better spirit. Watching my actors grow from play to play is a privilege. Seeing them carry over what they've learned onstage to their lives in school is gratifying. I love being able to share things like...

• the way I think a curtain call should be (fast and gracious and as the actor acknowledging the audience's thanks--not as the character or showing how hard you've worked)
• making your partners perfect instead of worrying about yourself
• continuing to tell the story and not go back no matter what
• that YOU are enough
  
• play, enjoy, smile
• if it's not yours, don't touch it
• if it falls, pick it up
• help each other
  
• be on time
• listen
• the best thing you can bring to the stage is confidence
• if you don't have confidence in yourself, then rely on your trust in me. You know that I want what is best for you and will not let you look foolish. Trust me. Trust the work you've done. Trust.
• and so much more...my senior integration project was on children and theatre...and I have much more to say now than I did then. (Yes, I hold strong beliefs on just about everything. And I like it that way. ;> I think passion is a good thing.)
  

Yeah. Preachy. Sorry. Cue the crickets.

Doing theatre feeds me. I know I've said that over and over. But, this time it's true quite literally. The moms in the cast took pity on my kazillionth lunch of peanut butter and crackers (little do they know I could happily live on peanut butter and Coca Cola) and set up a rota for cooking me dinners! How cool is that?

Oh. Not very nice of me to throw that in your faces. Cricket time.

My esl kiddos speak too much English to be funny any more. I'm bursting with pride with each new word and phrase..but they're not really good for cute stories. My little girl from South Korea continues to be fascinated with my eyes. She'll gaze up and then just giggle and say, "Blue!" The other day she asked me if I could see. I replied that yes, I could see her. A classmate explained that she wanted to know if I could see because my eyes were so big. She knew her "little eyes" could see so how could mine? I resisted the urge to turn into the wolf from Little Red Riding Hood (The better to see you with, my dear.).

Yeah. It was funny but doesn't really blog well. Chirp, chirp?

So. Sorry. Not very bloggy over here. Kinda blah. Not really BLAH...just not an abundance of blogging fodder. Maybe I can manage some pictures or something to string you along...

CHECK!

A "home visit" by a Russian social worker is exactly that--a visit to evaluate the home. The sw (E) was fast! (See--it's 11:10 and the visit is over and I've changed from hs clothes to cropped sweats and tee-shirt and read all your lovely comments from yesterday.) E didn't have any questions for me. She was just here to be sure that there was space for a child. She proclaimed by flat to be "very interesting". (This is because it has stairs, unlike most apartments here.)

Thanks for asking--my cats were on their best behaviour--Beazy is gorgeous and always makes a good impression...although she refuses to be stroked by strangers and Mia (yep--Hermia won out) was little and charming. They were napping in the window sill of my bedroom--the very picture of contentment.

My rep here, G, was nice enough to point out the Russian books and toys that I have--and had strategically placed to show that I had them but wasn't making a big deal about it. She also pointed out the baskets of socks, tights and underthings that were in d2b's room. That let me show the various sizes of dresses hanging in the closet (Suz, I laughed when I read your comment after the visit!) I was glad that they both seemed pleased that I was prepared and not displeased because I was preparing before the child arrived. (My friend V won't listen to any talk of Miss Possible until she's offical.)

And, in d2b's room she didn't bat an eye about the holes in the wall that are there because the curtain rod fell down this morning!! I had to pry it out of the wall. Sheesh. Hanging curtain rods. Looked like I was living in a crack house.

Both E and G laughed several times--when I said I went from living like a millionaire to living like a servant, when I pointed out I was using my sauna as a bookcase since the flat didn't have one--and were generally smiley and congenial.

AND, I think that E will be able to do my ppr's! It's iffy but sounds possible to me.

So--check! All I need now is my hs update from my other sw. And, news from my agency. Who is waiting for news from the MOE. I think.

check

• sub plans for tomorrow--check
• class informed (and warned not to hide behind the trashcans like Ramona did)--check though several students proclaimed their intentions to be sick tomorrow...
  
• cast told to expect rehearsal (only seven left...) even though I'm gone during school tomorrow--check
• rugs vacuumed and washed--check
• downstairs shower cleared of landlord's tasteless furnishings--check
• water ordered to be delivered early tomorrow--check
• cats' claws clipped so they cannot scratch the sw--check
• alarm set for plenty of time for final touches and zucchini muffins--check
• "gift" chosen (Kate, you will prepare a gift for this woman, no?) from drawer-o-gifts--check

The Russian sw comes tomorrow

p.s. I'm cherishing secret (well, not-so-secret anymore) hopes that this sw might be able to do my ppr's instead of flying in an American sw. A girl can hope, right?

post-worthy

Look-two in one day! Why? Because there's news!

Today I met with "the municipality" to arrange for my Russian hs to be done. The electricity was off, and we had long stair-filled corridors to negotiate. But, we got there and the person we met with was SO nice! She asked if it could be done tomorrow (!) but we settled on Wednesday.

I ended by saying I had a silly question. I said that I hadn't bought a bed because I didn't know if I'd be referred one little girl or two and asked if I needed that before my sw visit. They both thought I was nuts. (So, um, the answer is no--I don't have to buy a bed this weekend.)

See? News!

aww...THX!

Some very nice person nominated me for this:



I was tickled! But, when I went to the site to see my blog on the nomination list, I couldn't find it. Still, it's pretty cool to be able to add that nifty little icon to my collection. THANK YOU, nominator! ;>

I'll try to be more worthy and post-ful.

Nine more rehearsals 'till Seussial opens...

overruled

Votemom's objection re: infrequent posting is duly noted.

However, as previously stated:

a. I am crazy-busy with Seussical.
b. There is nothing else going on here. We're just in a holding pattern.
c. Even if there were adoption news, due to the unusual circs, I couldn't tell you much.
d. I'll tell you what I can when I can.

So, the objection is overruled.

;>

baseless suppositions

After I did my name quiz ala Jenni, I put in little Miss Possible's name. Oy, vey! She sounds like QUITE a handful if the quiz is even remotely correct. (The English name I picked out long ago to add to her name got a much better report.)

And, on the database, Miss Possible is described as "capricious". Okay, thought I, "Changeable. She must be multi-faceted. That will keep life interesting."

My best Russian friend looked at the entry and immediately said, "Oh! She's NAUGHTY!"

"Naughty?"

"That's what it says." She backtracks, "Well, maybe not exactly naughty..."

"Mischievous?"

"Nooo...More like, if she decides that she does not like porridge, she will not eat it--even if she is starving."

"So she's stubborn."

"No. Well. Maybe. That sounds so bad to say."

"Strong-willed?"

"Not really..."

So, according to highly unreliable internet information, Miss P is naughty, stubborn and quite a handful.

All of which, I'm sure, has made her a survivor. And that's a good thing.

more esl/tck

I really love teaching in an international school. I love teaching TCK (third culture kids) and ESL/EAL (English as a Second/Another Language)students. Here are some treasures from the last two days that show why:

Me, to student back from a trip: K, how was Norway?
K: Great! You could DRINK the water!

Y: Meez C, what you call the things we eat for your birthday? Black...
Me: Brownies
Y: Yeah, my mom wants to try those.

New Korean student: Why you big eye? Me small eye. You BIG eye. Why?

Same student: (laughing as she placed her hand on my arm) Meez C, you so white! You pink!

Same girlie again (she's just starting to use some English and it's priceless)...
Me: SM, how was after school?
SM: big, dramatic sigh
Me: Was it fun? Did you play with Lucy? (Lucy is a bulldog brought in for this week's pet care class. I had billed seeing Lucy as something great when SM didn't want to go.)
SM: sigh. Lucy, she good girl. But, I TIRED.

Both my Korean students, when they quiz me on Korean words: Oh! Good GIRL, Meez C!

(I know all I need to in Korean--shoes, jacket, out, goodbye...and I'm working on "be quiet".)

We were playing triominoes the other morning. Two of the ESL students (Germany and Holland) were playing with me. Holland kept trying and trying to put his triomino in places it wouldn't fit. I'd tell him, "I think you gotta choose, buddy." This happened twice. The third time he tried, Germany shook his head, smiled and said kindly, "Gotta choose, buddy."

See? Life is good in second grade.

tiding you over

Yeah, I know. It *seemed* like all sorts of things should've started happening. But, really...there's not much new.

Seussical is taking all sorts of time--in rehearsal every day after school and all day (10-4) on Saturdays. There's just not much left after that...and I still have to plan lessons (okay, that's pretty easy), get ready for Friday's conferences, organize costumes/props/sets, choreograph everything, and do all sorts of little things that no one realizes needs to be done.

I am waiting to hear what to do about my new homestudies...

So...it's incredibly busy but there's not much news. Stay tuned...

ETA: Nach, as soon as I'd posted the news about no news, a rep from my agency called with a list of documents we had to present to the municipality to start the ball on my Russian hs...and then asked if I could go tomorrow. Um, no. I don't HAVE any of that paperwork. I need a new lease from the consulate, a new letter explaining the lease is for me, my registration card back (it expired yesterday and needs a new stamp...until they decide on the new registration cards for diplomats and then I'll get a whole new card) and a translated copy of my passport. Don't have any of that handy. It's possible we'll go Thursday after rehearsal or next week.

SO! That's the news. Are you tided over now?

How we deal with a new flat is a whole 'nother kettle of fish. Hello expensive visit from US sw!

goofball

Do you want to know how big of a goof I am?

I just clicked on my blog (yes, this one--my own blog) to see if there was any news about the little girl I told you about.

Ummm...there wasn't.

it's possible

That's a song from Seussical. One of my favorite students of all time (yes, there are many...)is singing that song (...It's possible. Anything's possible...) in the play. She's playing Jojo, the thinker who saves Who in Horton Hears a Who. (Didn't see the movie. Have no inclination to do so. Mr. Carey, stop ruining my Seuss!) The song is actually based on the book McElligot's Pool where even the most unlikely things are possible.

It seems like there could be a possibility of a possibility of a little elephant coming home. I got a call from Ann Marie (How great is that? A call that could end up being the call and it came from my friend.) telling me that new agency was trying to get a hold of me. Through the static we managed to figure things out.

Why did they want to talk to me? There is a little girl who might be available...but it's an unusual situation (what isn't in Russian adoption?) that I won't elaborate on here. And, please don't ask. I'll tell you what I can, when I can.

Suffice to say, it's in another region so I'd have to redo that paperwork. (But, I'm happy it's in this region instead of the anticipated one.)
She's older than my age range, so I need a hs update.
Because I've moved I likely need to fly in a sw again for that update.
I need a Russian hs, too. No clue about cost or timeline there.

I am calm, quiet and a little detached. Ann Marie is bouncing around like a cheerleader whose name has just been announced as a finalist for starring role in Bring It On, Again. (She's a great cheerleader.)

I told you I'd tell you. And this isn't even news, really...

yes and no

Yes, I'm still alive and well.
No, there really isn't anything blogworthy to report.

Yes, school has started and so has the musical.
Yes, both are going well.
No, I'm still not used to being back to sleeping on my school schedule.
No, I don't have a minute spare with rehearsals after school M-F and all day (for me--two different half-day groups) Saturday.

Yes, my car came home.
No, it's not here now.
Yes, it was leaking worse than before after the 20,000r, two-month repair job.
No, I'm not happy that it's costing another 10,000r for them to replace the pipes they were supposed to have already replaced.

No, I haven't been able to go visit my girls in 3.10 in ages.
Yes, I'm feeling like I've abandoned them.
No, I haven't abandoned them.
Yes, I will get there as soon as is humanly possible.

No, I haven't given up blogging.
Yes, there will be something more interesting to report soon. (There just has to be.)

No, there is no adoption news.
Yes, of course I'll tell you when there is!

true!

Last Thursday, one of our teachers met a little six-year-old girl who introduced herself as Alesya. When asked for her patronym, the little girl said it was Petochka.

The teacher commented skeptically that Petochka was an unusual name.

The little girl was quick to reassure her. She said she'd even write it for my friend. She wrote:

Алися П.

П is "P". A period is called a "tochka".

Gotta love it!

shattered

That means more than exhausted...not broken into infinitesimal pieces.

First week with students finished.

Four students with zero English (German, Dutch and two from South Korea). Boy:girl ratio is 3:1. Three students who are more than a year too young for second grade. (Parents, no matter how brilliant you child is, age does make a difference. And, actually, they may not be brilliant. They just may have gotten there sooner. Classmates generally catch-up and things even out by fourth grade or so. Please, please don't push your child ahead just because he/she is a good reader. Please.)

Musical auditions start Monday--no scripts, no theatre, and many third-grade parents worried about balancing homework and rehearsals.

Haven't checked personal e-mail in a week.

No phone. All you can hear on this end is static.

I slept THIRTEEN hours last night. And was in bed for about fifteen.

Lending the computer to a colleague who wants to watch the basketball gold-medal final.

Will be back soon...just not sure when.

Kate!

ps No adoption news. No car news, either.

it's time to put on make-up

You Are Kermit

Hi, ho! Lovable and friendly, you get along well with everyone you know. You're a big thinker, and sometimes you over think life's problems. Don't worry - everyone knows it's not easy being green. Just remember, time's fun when you're having flies!

The Muppet Personality Test

chalkboard beckons

Tomorrow is my last day of summer vacation. I am back in school on Wednesday. How crazy is that?! (Actually, I've already been back to start sorting things out in my new classroom.) It's been nice knowing you...

Since I know I'll be busy in the next few days and weeks (Seussical starts four days after school starts...) I'm going to ask you ap's--all of you lurkers (you can stay anonymous if you want to), too--to pitch in and tell me what Becky suggested in her most recent, beautiful post:

How old was your child when s/he came home?
What was the best thing you did to foster attachment?
What would you do differently?

These are questions I've asked many, many people during "the journey". Even if I've asked you this previously, I'd love to have you answer here. Having this in one place would be great! I am, of course, particularly interested in hearing from ap's of school-aged children and siblings. But, I think everyone's experiences are great to have stored in my back pocket. I've got lots of ideas and research stored away already. But, I'd love to hear what proved true for you! (It's especially nice that so many of you have hit the one- and two- years mark!)

Cheers, duckies!

Olympics 2

I love the US coverage of the Olympics. You can see almost anything and anyone you want. MSNBC, USA, Oxygen...they all have different sports and different perspectives. Yesterday by flipping amongst those channels I saw equestrian events (yea!), fencing, swimming, volleyball, beach volleyball (Russia's first two-woman team vs. Australia)...

When watching in the UK, I got to see rowing. ROWING. The same race over and over...because that's where they medalled. (sp?) Really. The Olympic games continued, but we'd get to "have another look at" the. same. race. that we'd seen over. and. over.

(Language note: Things that Americans take--a shower, a walk, a look, a nap, etc.--Brits have. Interesting, huh? I think it all goes back to the British empire and the sense of ownership that gave. Americans are more active, conquering the wilderness and taming the frontier. We're a younger country and it's reflected in our speech.)

Even if you're only following the primetime US medal contenders, you get to see a wider range of sports and more competitors.

Team handball and boxing have been very big on the Russian channel, Sport. (Seriously, I do have questions about the sports that are in the Summer Olympics. Handball? Beach volleyball? Come on.)

The women's gymnastics qualifier is on live right now (on Russian tv). This round has (I think) Romania, China, Spain, Venezuela, and Canada. Guess who the Russian sport channel are covering to the exclusion of everyone else. China. I would've thought we'd get to see Romania...The only way I know Canada is even in this round is that I heard the announcer in the background. Interesting...

I was encouraged to hear the way the Chinese crowd and teammates cheered on a fallen gymnast. If you read this post, you'll remember thet Russian audience that would have nothing to do with skaters once they'd fallen. There were no encouraging cheers, no rooting for them to overcome the mistake and finish the routine. It really was powerful.

In the book Two Worlds of Childhood, Bronfenbrenner notes that one of the most commonly used disciplinary methods used by Russian mothers (it was in the Dr. Spock equivalent here) is withdrawl of affection. I've seen this and it's so much more, much deeper, much...colder than just ignoring an unwanted behavior. And, that seems to be the way they cheer for their athletes.

Also interesting was that once the Chinese gymnast fell I got to see Romania on floor and Hungary on beam.

(There must be a group competing right now who aren't with a team, but are wanting to qualify for individual competition.)

Final parenthetical supposition proved correct by the following diagram showing mixed groups three and four in the first subdivision:

Off to take a shower before subdivision two starts in half an hour. Wonder if and who we'll see on Russian television...

Olympics

Did I show you this picture I took when the Olympic torch came through St. Petersburg? (If so, just marvel in its beauty once again. I like this picture and am not going to go check.)


I love watching the Olympics! I, like so many others, am partial to figure skating in the Winter Olympics and gymnastics in the Summer Olympics. I also love watching equestrian events. For the last two summer Olympics, I was living in England. I had no idea how biased sports reporting is. When watching gymnastics in 2000, there was a huge roar that went up from the crowd. The presenter (they present rather than commentate) said, "That's just the Americans cheering for one of their gymnasts." And then they didn't show us what had happened!

I am very happy to have US coverage of the Olympics. I know that it's biased--it has to be. But, Americans have big hearts. We love a good determination-filled story--and an underdog. I feel like the coverage on US television is more representative of the entire games, that we get to follow not only the stories of US athletes, but also stories of athletes from around the world--especially those that are very skilled or have faced enormous odds.

And I get to see why the Americans are cheering.

Volleyball is on right now. I don't even care about volleyball, but it's the Olympics, it's live, and I'm watching it. Japan is looking tough--passing well and blocking our 6'7" (seriously) player. But the crowd, the CROWD is oohhh-ing the big rallies and chanting "U-S-A!"

It sounds like the Olympics to me.

(ps How 'bout the little nine-year-old boy who accompanied Yao Ming and the Chinese flag at the opening ceremony? He was trapped in the Sichuan earthquake last May and, after getting free, went back and helped to free two classmates from the rubble. When asked why he went back (Who would ask why he went back? Of course you go back!), he replied, "Well, you see, I am a leader in the class. That was my responsibility." Way to go, Lin Hao!)

reply

1. The floors are *not* wood. They are plastic. They are photographs of wood put on plastic. I was surprised at how nice they looked in the photos. They don't look or feel nice in person.

2. No sun really is a big deal for me. It's August and I've been treating SAD for the last six weeks. I know what to do--get out, exercise, eat a banana, take some St. John's wort. But, the thing is, when you're in the middle of SAD, sometimes that seems too hard. Sometimes you just want to sit around in your pajamas...and you wonder how necessary a shower really is. (But, if you don't shower, you won't go out and take a walk or buy bananas. Tricky, eh? It all hinges on the bathroom. Get to the bathroom--that's where both the shower and the St. John's wort are.)

Mind over matter. Get up. Move. Clean. Eat. Do. I just have to be much more purposeful about these things when there is no sun. And sometimes I do just sit in my pajamas--but not two days in a row. I wonder, if I'm treating myself like it's January now, what January in this flat will actually be like.

3. I'm glad you liked my cozification of the living room. I do, too. It's a nice place to sit around in your pajamas. ;>

boxes & later

I don't really have before and after pix of the inside of my new flat...because I never saw it "before" and I don't know if I'll ever make it to "after". But, I do have pix of "boxes" and "later" (which I just took for you today).

(I hate it when a television epi starts exactly the way the epi before it ended, so that was a JOKE!)

You enter the house and come into the kitchen. The entry is very tight. My desk wouldn't fit. You creep around a giant standing closet, hugging the wall, and come into the kitchen.

<-Here is the box- (and stupidity-) filled kitchen
and there it is later -->
(less stupid but far from brilliant). The person who designed it made it sound good on paper...but didn't make it very functional.


Can you see the edge of the round table in the boxed picture? It took up soooo much room! It extended further than the tumble dryer and went all the way to the 'fridge. That made it impossible to get into the cabinet below and really difficult to get around the kitchen.

Here, on the right, is more evidence of stupidity. The opened cabinets in the picture on the right aren't really cabinets. Instead, they are a water heater, a drying rack, a dishwasher and a washing machine. And those cabinets on the far right? Really difficult to open.


That's a clothes drying rack opened to try to show you how small the kitchen is. (With the stupid table it couldn't fit.) The kitchen photographs much larger than it is because I can stand in the living room to take the pictures. Still, with that round table taken down, it's much better. (Behind the door is the downstairs shower room and sauna that is now storage.)



This was and is the living room. The couch was crammed under the window with the tv in the corner. The table took up most of the room. There was an armchair under the stairs.

I undecorated and re-arranged furniture, putting the table under the window and the couch and chair grouped around the fireplace. I moved the tv and my computer to this area and added a rug. The dresser, which was in my bedroom in my last flat, now holds dvd's and a few videos--movies in the top drawer, tv in the middle, children's in the bottom. I couldn't really do anything with the landlord's china cabinet, though I was tempted to fill it with books. Instead, my books are in the baskets by the window...and the blue tubs under the stairs...and the boxes in the sauna. The cheap, yellow fabric of the couch and chair are encased in my slipcovers and new pillow cases from IKE@. My pb striped pillows always make me happy.

This is my favorite room in the house.



This is the room at the top of the stairs. It is meant to be the computer room. I tried to use it that way. But, there are no windows in this room. It was just too depressing to spend as much time up there as I spend on the computer. So, now it's the kitten's room. Eventually it could be a guest room (the taupe-slipcovered couch pulls out into a bed...though not a comfy one) or just more storage. Again, this room is s-m-a-l-l. I don't know why they didn't make two good-sized bedrooms with windows and a nice, large bathroom out of this top floor instead of putting in useless rooms and miniscule bathrooms.



This is my bedroom. It's a nice, large room. The wardrobe is ridiculous. I cannot even touch the hanging bar when I stand on my tiptoes.




At the end of the stairs, there was another couch. ANOTHER couch. There are four couches and two big armchairs in this place. I moved this one into the shower in the downstairs bath. I put my laundry stuff in its place--the rolling hamper and ironing board. Now, I've swapped that and moved the laundry things to my room and suitcases to this space. The catbox is behind the door. There is no room for it in my (now) polka-dotted bathroom that is the size of an airplane bathroom with a tub stuck on the side. Seriously. The only thing you can't see in the picture is the sink.

And this darling room (ha!) is the one for d2b. Yep. This could be why I got so upset. But, we moved the armchair to the useless computer room and then I moved the couch and covered it with the duvet cover from my last flat's guest room. Not knowing if I'll be here when she/they come home or if I'll be moving to another flat, I didn't buy a bed. (In the other flat, the second bedroom has a bed. Shocker.) And, since I don't know if "d" is singular or plural yet, I don't know if I need a twin bed or bunkbeds. Either way, it will go where the couch is in the boxed picture. That spot now is filled with orphanage donations...which I can deliver when my car is fixed. (Some are for Christmas. 'Most every time I go to the store, I pick something up either for the girls in 3.10 or for Christmas presents.) But, you can see that the tote bag from France is hanging on the doorknob, Noah's ark is on the wall, the doll's cradle is filled with friends (no dolls until I know what d2b looks like...), and the closet is organized.


And that's it! I hope you liked the tour. I think I've done a good job with what I had...and knowing that this temporary home needs to feel more home than temporary.

p.s. This post took forever to compile...though I have no doubt it will not publish as it previewed... so enjoy!

new flat

Okay, okay...but it's not as exciting as you are making it out to be.

Here's my building again.

But, instead of having the top four windows on the left-hand side, now you go in through the center gate (under the middle balcony) and enter the courtyard. (It's too narrow between the back of the part of the building I used to live in and the center part of the building for me to take a picture of it all. It's a narrow, rectangular space. Below is about one-third of the courtyard.) These doors used to belong to the stable. (Obviously, they're being restored as we photographed.) I walk through the tunnel to the right of the doors.

Coming out of the tunnel, the courtyard greenspace we were teased with is on the left (I didn't take this picture--the realtor did in November. There were people on the benches the day I did this photo-essay for you, so I didn't photograph it. I am not suitably dressed to go out of the house and re-take this picture for you today.) but I go to the right, through this little tunnel

into my courtyard, turning right again after the tunnel. That's my door on the far right. Can you see that my flat is below ground-level from these pix? You go two step down from the entry level. Nice security bars. And I really do have the nicest windows. The door on the left, under my bedroom and beside my living room, has a loud beeping security system. And, as we can tell by the white plates, neither of those cars parked right outside my flat is mine.

And these are my noisy upstairs neighbors. I can hear e-v-e-r-ything that goes on up there. Seriously. Sometimes I wake up thinking there's someone in my room. (That hasn't happened in a while. I must be acclimating.)

This is what you see if you stand with your back against my door. (Remember, it is my own door. That's very nice! It's one of those little things that ex-pat living makes me appreciate.)You can't see this much sky from inside the house. Wasn't it a beautiful sky this day?

This is looking up, to try to show you the well-like quality of my courtyard.
See what I mean when I said that I went from the family's rooms to the working part of the house? I bought a shopping cart (I call them babushka bags) to get groceries from the street to my door--with a hand still free for d2b. In the winter I'm going to use a sled. ;>

I don't really have before and after pix of the inside of my new flat...because I never saw it "before" and I don't know if I'll ever make it to "after". But, I do have pix of "boxes" and "later" (which I just took for you today). I'll post those for you tomorrow. I'd do a slide show, but I think I need to commentate.

reasoned

Beazy (my cat--named for Beatrice in Much Ado) is bored and a little depressed since we've moved. She can't watch birds anymore. She's got no patches of sunshine in which to doze. And this place just smells weird-which is unsettling.

I am going to be away on referral and court and pick-up trips in the next year (!), and Beazy will be alone for weeks.

Beazy likes company. She likes to be with people. Well, Beazy likes to be with me. Her favorite days are Saturdays when we just loll around. (She's an excellent loll-er and napper.) She'll be lonely without me.

D2b will likely want to play with Beazy, who will likely not want to play with d2b.

A new kitten would be too fragile for d2b.

Introducing a cat to a new kitten takes time. A young kitten is more easily tolerated than an older cat when introduced into a home.

So we got a kitten last Friday.

Her name is still undecided, but I'm leaning towards Hermia and calling her Mia. Miranda and Olivia and Thisbe are all in the running, too. I think Russian kittens look like little foxes--very pointed noses and big ears. This little kitten also resembles a house elf...


Beazy (my gorgeous, loyal cat) is not impressed and is desperately trying to spot birds instead.

quick "btw"

I have always had lots of little people in my life. I was a summer-nanny, camp counselor, youth group leader, Sunday school/vbs/children's choir/drama/dance teacher and youth theatre dirctor all throughout high school and college...and beyond.

I just saw one of my little people buy her first place, (which actually wasn't a nighmare) thanks to hgtv. (It was just background noise while I checked your blogs.) Fun! She has grown (no surprise) into a very lovely, gracious woman. Welcome home, Meg!

Hi, Gram!

Hi, Gramma!

Sending you lots of love from Russia.

Kate xoxo

(The rest of you are witnessing my sister teaching my dear, sweet Gramma how to find my blog. I hope Aims wrote it down, step by step, and left it by the computer for her. Say hi to her and make her feel welcome.)

Come back soon and often!

(The rest of you can, too.)

potential coolness

We don't have school the last week in October. I think that would be an excellent time for a referral trip. God and I have been chatting about this. I'm not sure yet if He agrees, but He knows my feelings on the matter. I'm just waiting to hear back if there's a better option. (Usually there is...)

I heard 15 July that my papers were being sent for translation. Agency girl estimates 2-4 weeks for translation. She also estimates (off the record) a wait of 4-6 months, with most recent family with same age/gender/health specs waiting only three months.

We could be translated by now. Then, if we wait August, September and October...it's possible, but a little fast. Ann Marie, however has had feelings all along that things would go quickly once the papers were back in Russia.

Let's keep thinking. If we DO go in the last week of October, then it's POSSIBLE that we could have court 3 December. That would be 1000 days since the day I announced my plans to adopt to the world right here on this very blog.

That would be cool. Fast. But very, very cool.

(The Seige of Leningrad during WWII lasted 900 days. If we heard something on 18 of August, that will be 900 days. I guess we could hear that my documents were translated then...but that won't really make me feel like the seige has ended.)

smell smoke?

Okay, so I lied. I didn't knowingly lie to you. And, I'm not completely sure I've lied to you. (Which would mean that this post telling you that I lied is actually a lie.) But I think I've previously presented you with untrue information.

Remember this recent post about referrals? (I so enjoyed reading what others pictured The Waiting-for-Referral Place to be like!) Well. Things are different.

It used to be that you were registered and then waited for a referral.

But, there's a law that says that a family must be matched and presented with a referral before they've been registered for x days (I think x = 90...Jim?). Because so many people have similar requests for age/health requirements, it is not always possible to do this. So, either a family could be presented with a referral who does not match their requests or they are not given a referral within x days. Either the law is broken in the x-factor, or an unsuitable referral is given.

To avoid either of those situations, some regions (or some agencies...I don't really know) have started to do things a little backwards. What is actually going to happen with my dossier is that it will be translated and then held by new agency's workerman, S. (I don't think he will actually hold it in his hand all the time. I think it will be in his office.) When S knows that there is a child/ren who match my requests (I don't know how he knows this. Spideysense?) then my dossier will be registered and I'll be officially given the referral and invited to meet her/them.

I'm kinda bummed about this. I know it doesn't really matter, in this case, if the horse is pulling the cart (I was going to say troika instead to give it a Russian flavour, but thought it might be stretching the horse-before-the-cart cliche too far for it to be recognized. Opinions?) or nudging it from behind...but...it messes up my mental picture. I guess it basically works the same...that the piles I've imagined are in S's office and he has the pictures of PAP's from Tricia's war room plastered around...but...it just feels...backwards.

And, what about all the piles from other agencies? They're not in S's office. (Please--it's not that big.) So, how do we fit those people into the mental picture? Where exactly are their documents? In THEIR agency's offices? (This region has many agencies working in it.)

If someone from another agency has the same requests I do, and a match becomes available, does S, his Spideysense a-tingling, go rummaging wildly through the piles, shouting my name at three perfectly-manicured women assistants? Do they all race to find my dossier, and then pass it to S who grabs it and simultaneously attempts to hurdle the metal wastebasket and put on his jacket? When he fails to clear the bin and bangs his shin and has to hop and mutter expletives, do the well-shod women retrieve spilled paperwork from the floor and stuff it back in the folder, even as S heads out the door? Does S then sprint for the MOE's office, limping slightly, in a fierce competition with other limping, swearing facilitators whose jackets aren't quite on to get me registered before those other people? Is it just The Amazing Race after all?

And it means that my big goal of REGISTRATION! is not really for trues. I guess, instead, it's when my stuff is translated and neatly piled in S's office (surely the piles there are neater...I can't imagine those three women letting it get too messy...) and my picture's up in the war room.

But is so ephemeral. (I know that means short-lived. But it sounds like it should mean fairy-like, elusive, insubstantial, amorphous. But those words that actually mean that don't have the sound I want. Just humour me.) I don't think they'll tell me when that is. So, we won't get to have the registration party after all. I guess the party will just have to wait. Shocker, eh?

one in a million?

I have been neglecting my duty as provider of silly-little-quizes lately. Here's a quickie:

HowManyOfMe.com

There are 9 people with my name in the U.S.A. How many have your name?

Now I'm off to try the anticipated names of d2b along with some popular Russian first names. Ahh...a Saturday in the summer.

houston, we have internet!

And that is a very good thing because I've just finished season two of Joan of Arcadia and there is no season three. (Highly rec that show. Well-written and well-acted. Clever. It amazes me that a group of people who have a very different world view from mine can come up with a show that, when viewed through my own world view, lines up in all the essentials. It's thoughtful and very nicely done. Season one is brilliant. Season two is good. Mary Steenburgen doesn't ruin it the way you'd think.)

We do not yet have car. It seems the wrong part was sent from the US--though they were quick to tell me that they ordered the correct part. It might be finished in the next two weeks. Right now it's sitting at the mechanics all taken apart and filled with orphanage donations.

Two more weeks until school...and I have loads to catch up on in that time.

three weeks

It has been three weeks since I had internet.

I realize every time I'm internet-less how I use the computer. I, apparently, jump up and check things when they pop into my head--questions raised by reading or watching tv, quick e-mails to people, checking in on blogs and forums, paying bills, browsing through e-bay and amazon... I don't set aside a chunk of time and do everything at once. I've had to resort to lists of what needs to be checked online...and often once I get to school I don't feel like bothering anymore. I have to log into and out of school when I am here. It was scary to see three hours disappear one afternoon with me on the computer--and I hadn't checked in with any forums or with all my bloggy pals! I've been more efficient since then.

I have three weeks left until school starts.

How is that possible? Only three weeks? I don't really know where the summer went. I think waiting around for my car and my internet has made the summer just vanish.

I have been in my new apartment for three weeks.

Things are unpacked. The boxes are gone. The apartment has been undecorated and made as kateish as possible without a trip to make a few purchases from Santa House or the dreaded IKEA. Drawers are tidy. (Yes, the insides of my drawers and cupboards are often more organized than the outsides.) And, yesterday the upholstery cleaner came. He cleaned the yucky divans and chairs with baking soda and vinegar. Now, I'm all about natural cleaning products (Helllloooo, METHOD! Has anyone tried their new Method Kid stuff? I freely admit to being a Method addict. I lurve it. Many people, who thought I was crazy for asking for it, have brought me Method when they've visited. I am forever grateful.), but this didn't really make the yucky furniture look cleaner. It still looks kind of grimy and there are definite dark-spots from previous tenants. Still, I know it's cleaner, and that counts for something.

I have this thing about dirt. I don't think all dirt is created equally. My dirt is somehow less dirty than other people's dirt. I thought this was something that all people believed (not that *my* dirt was less dirty, but that one's own dirt was somehow superior to other people's dirt), until I bought a house. The same time I moved, a good, good friend moved to a new apartment. We were comparing notes and I said that I was really tired of cleaning. He was puzzled--I had just moved in so what was there to clean? I explained that I didn't feel like a new place was mine until I'd cleaned it. I needed to remove the previous owner's dirt. He said that he did the opposite with a new place--claiming it by scattering his stuff around and generally making a mess. I told him it was people like him who made people like me.

My own messes are liveable. Friend-dirt is tolerable. Stranger-dirt creeps me out. Hair, nail clippings, germs....gross.

At any rate, the furniture is cleaned and slipcovered. I'm not a fan of the slipcover look, but when living in rented accomodation, I need it. (Take note, S.) It's not only a stranger-dirt barrier but also keeps both my visual and tactile sensibilities at peace. Peace is a good thing to have in a home.

Yes, yes. I know. I will post pix as soon as I've have internet at home.

It's been three weeks since I've had internet.

Did I mention that?

tv

I do not have any English-speaking television channels. Usually, my slingbox would provide the background noise I need (I find that mindless English in the background is more comforting than silence right now), but I have no internet access. So I have no slingbox. I still sit down in front of the tv and flip through the channels. It's ridiculous!! WHY do I do this? It's nuts.

There are some shows that were originally in English that have been poorly dubbed into Russian. These are the shows I try to find. The ones that are well-dubbed are useless to me. But, on the poorly dubbed shows you can hear the English underneath the Russian dubbing. It's actually maddening to listen to and I can't last much more than 10 minutes. If they speak in short sentences, I can hear the English before the Russian starts. But, if it's wordy, I'm lost.

I've watched part of two episodes of Buffy this way (never was a Buffy fan...) and part of three X-files. On X-files they have one man and one woman doing all the dubbing. This is okay if it's Mulder and Scully, but the scene with Mulder and Skinner was impossible for me to follow. Unfortunately, it looks like the movie will be well-dubbed. I'll just have to wait until a copy shows up on the streets here in English.

I have many friends who say they learned English by watching films. HOW? I have a pretty good ear, but I am not learning any new words...or very few. I am able to clearly hear words I know, but my vocabulary is not increasing.

I've finished all the X-files. Again. And am ready for an intellectual discussion of the last two seasons. (But Carla's a little busy right now and she's my kindred xfilesian spirit here so I'll wait.)

Meanwhile, I started The House by the Dvina and it's excellent. If you're looking for a good read, give this a whirl.

the waiting place

If you read the comments other people leave, you'll remember that Allison referenced Oh, The Places You'll Go recently in her elephant-spotting. In that book, Dr. Seuss describes The Waiting Place as "a most useless place".

...for people just waiting
Waiting for a train to go
or a bus to come or a plane to go
or the mail to come or the rain to go
or the phone to ring or the snow to snow
or waiting around for a Yes or No
or waiting for their hair to grow...

Dr. Seuss always has a knack for summing things up, doesn't he? (Aside: I'm directing/choreographing Seussical at school this fall.)

I'm trying to be useful while I wait, or at the very least gracious.

I received an e-mail yesterday that said my dossier was on its way to Russia for translation (2-4 weeks--I'm hoping it's on the shorter end, since some of it actually is in Russian already) and will then be registered in region. I am so looking forward to registration. That will be the mark that I'm further in my journey with new agency than I was with my first agency. We're close.

The e-mail went on to say that I should tentatively expect a referral 6-8 months after registration.

**For those who are unfamiliar with Russian adoption, my dossier (all my papers that prove who I am and how parent-worthy I am) will be registered with the Ministry of Education in my region. Then, in my mind, it goes into a pile with those who had the same specifications regarding age, gender and health that I did. I picture a desk filled with piles of folders--wobbly piles with the folders not quite lined up straight. There are pieces of paper with a few notes scrawled on them--Ж 4-6-- rubber banded to the folders to remind the ministry of the specifications in that pile. In my mind, these piles often get shuffled around, blown off the desk, shoved into a drawer, have coffee spilled on them...and the new ones often get put on the top of the piles so that the people who were the first ones in the pile actually end up waiting longer and longer as the top dossiers keep getting referrals. (A referral is when a child who matches a person's specifications becomes available. The child is then referred to the family for consideration.) But, that's just kateish whimsy.

This 6-8 months wait is a different projection than I was given earlier. Earlier it was anticipated that I'd have a referral this fall. I guess we just keep waiting. But, as Allison also pointed out, the page after The Waiting Place says

NO!
That's not for you!
Somehow you'll escape
all that waiting and staying.

and then the following page is filled with contented purple elephants carrying pink banners. I don't mind waiting, today, at least, because I know that this wait is important. I don't know why or how, but it just isn't time. As long as I'm able to trustingly wait and look forward and not become apathetic or despondent, I think I'm doing what I'm supposed to be doing.

But, I'll sure be glad when I get to turn the page.

in clover

This morning the Field of Mars was warm and sunny and smelled overwhelmingly of clover. There was a little bit of a breeze that sent the scent dancing around. It was still early enough that the park was relatively empty. It just called for someone to stand still and bask in the happy. So I did.


And the gardeners seemed content to let the clover stay.


Here's hoping you have time today to stop and smell the clover.

medically speaking

One week post-antibiotics and I'm still healthy. Hooray! Oorah!

But, I suspect I have a more serious and heretofore unnamed medical condition. I think I have anti-anorexia.

If anorexia is a condition in which the person has a distorted body image, a body image which is much bigger than reality, then I have the opposite problem. I look in the mirror (usually in the morning, which might have something to do with this) and, while I see the extra...curves that have crept on in the last 2+ years that I've been adopting, I generally think I look pretty good. And then I see photos of myself and am faced with the reality that what I see in the mirror is not what the world is seeing.

This is particularly unsettling as I USED to be fairly photogenic. I made my living acting. (Ahh, the good old days...when I only had myself to worry about feeding and clothing and sheltering...) And now the camera is not my friend. I feel betrayed.

On a related note, I think my car my have Mechanical Munchausen's Syndrome. I haven't seen it in weeks. I think it likes the attention the mechanics give it.

Of course, no car means that I have to hoof it...and no internet means I have to hoof it to school at least every other day...and the fact that you cannot see the sky from my flat means I have to get OUT of there or sink into despair...which all may help to reconcile my mirror-image with my photographed-image.

See--all things really do work together for good. ;>

shoe trickery

I admit it. I over-imbue inanimate objects with personality. A bit of this might be charming or poetical...but I think I've gone too far.

I'm not just talking about picking up a big piece of lint that the vacuum won't suck up and then putting it down again to give it another chance. I don't mean asking the cat (not that she's inanimate...) where I've left my sunglasses. I'm talking about shoes.

I have two, TWO, pairs of sandals that give me blisters. One is a pair of birks and the other is a perfect pair of sandals--a little bit of a platform, dark enough brown that they can pass for black... But both of these give me blisters.

And I keep giving them another chance. Or maybe I'm giving my feet another chance. I just want them to get along.

Not only that, I start thinking that I'll trick them (the shoes and my feet) by not wearing the shoes for a long time. I start thinking that they'll forget about blisters. I put the shoes on and walk around a bit. Everything seems fine! No blisters. No rubbing. No soreness. I don't need band-aids or moleskin. My plan has worked!

Then, about a half-mile later, it starts--soreness, rubbing, blisters. The band-aids fall off and the moleskin is useless. Those sandals and my feet really do have irreconcilable differences.

Do you know HOW many times this scenario has repeated itself? Too many. But, no more. After limping home from the post office, I've decided that's it. No more chances. I have decided to banish both pairs.

Sniff.

I hope they forgive me.

(I wrote this for you yesterday...just in case I don't get in to school to use the computer today. Except for me it's today and you're reading this tomorrow.)

post office

Kate's friend friend from Belarus is emigrating to Canada! He is very excited. Kate has been asked to write a letter to introduce him to Canada, with the secret purpose of showing how easily assimilated he will be. Kate was happy to do this. And, since it seems likely that a letter from Russia to Belarus will arrive without complications, Kate decided to use the Russian post. Kate took the letter to the local post office. Now the letter is on its way to Minsk and then to Canada!

It sounds so simple...

What I've experienced here is that no matter what the waiting room (post office, airline tickets, etc.), people don't wait in line. (The train station is an exception, but that's not really a waiting room. And I already posted about the "rules" that mystify me there.) There is no take-a-number dispenser and "now serving" signs. You just wait. For a long time. (I passed the time trying and failing to discern a pattern in the numbering of the post boxes.)

Actually, what you do is walk in and ask (loudly demand to know--which I never pull off) who is last. Then, you just wait and watch for this person to go up to the window and follow. It's a system that keeps me hyper-vigilant for people taking advantage (There are usually some who try--they don't ask who's last (that's the tell) but just try to sidle up to the window. They go mute when confronted.), but it works.

I'm hoping the letter makes it to Minsk. I addressed it with the transliterated address I'd been given. (I used all caps, so that should help.) I asked the girl working if it was okay that I'd written in English or if I should write it in Russian. She replied that it would cost 33r to mail. I am constantly surprised by people who ignore my questions. It seems to primarily be government employees and line-jumpers who do this. They simply don't answer. Ask a customs agent where the pens are and you'll receive silence with a stony stare and, if you persist, perhaps even a profile. They just don't answer.

Nothing pithy to wrap this up for you.

Pollyanna triumphs

You guys are the best! Thanks for attending my little pity party.

Being the analytical person I am, I decided (it would be great if that Martha Washington quote was the one at the top right now) that the reason I was so upset (jr, I did shed some tears--and felt very childish and self-indulgent and confused about it--though I didn't have room to flop on the floor and kick my feet.) was because I had expectations that were not met. (Annie, I have no say in my flat. The school/consulate provide it and I gratefully accept.)

I expected to be bringing d2b HOME to this flat. And, while home is mostly about people, there were some things in the background of that picture--my bed, my desk, my books... I expected this flat to match my picture; to be HOME for the first year or even years of our life together. The only way I could change how I was feeling, because the bed and the desk and new bookshelves were not going to fit, was to change my expectations. Now, I see my new flat as a very nice, temporary place to live.

Perhaps most helpful was that before they leapt in to help, a friend here looked around and understood the difficulties without me saying anything. Feeling really, truly understood always makes me feel better. I've done some un-decorating. I've rearranged furniture. My friends have helped me move HEAVY furniture down a TINY hallway to make room for a bed in d2b's room. And, said friends have helped to dismantle some of the stupid elements in the kitchen. It's better. Much better.

My landlord probably won't think so. And, the landlords aren't very nice. They're rather condescending. AND, one landlord (one lives in England and one lives across the street) said they weren't even expecting me to move in, they were expecting a lady from Canada. (That would be my principal.) That might have made me maddest of all! Would they have refused to have me there because I'm an AMERICAN? Not cool. Don't get my patriotism boiling.

The parking space...well...apparently there was a meeting and "they" (if I ever chance to meet "them" one day, "they" will have a lot to explain) decided that renters would no longer be given a parking space.

So. My expectations and my attitude are changing. Pollyanna triumphs.

(Filing a new I600A tomorrow. And paying for it. But, don't have to have a new homestudy. That's something to bring about gladness!)

ps Still no internet at home so don't panic if an eon passes before a new post.

Alas

That's really enough, isn't it?

Let me just say that the photos I received were misleading. It is t-i-n-y! Even my movers commented that this was a bad flat--too small, too dark. I've certainly moved from the family's rooms to the working part of the house (from Imperial times).

It's so small that my bed wouldn't fit up the stairs and my desk wouldn't fit through the door. (Major headache on moving day.) They're going to be stored at my principal's flat. Sigh.

D2b's room has no bed. It has a massive couch. Umm...not good enough. AND the furniture upstairs all had to be lifted in through the windows before the flat was finished! Nothing comes out.

The kitchen is so stupid.

There are no bookshelves.

There is no parking space.

Beazy doesn't like it either.

For now, I'm unpacking (the movers and I couldn't all fit in the flat with all the boxes so I'm doing the unpacking) and trying to decide what can stay out. The rest is going in the sauna. (Seriously--why attach a sauna to an airplane-sized bathroom?)

DHS says that my sw was wrong. The updated homestudy must be attached to the application for renewal or else a new fee must be paid. That is not the adoption news I hoped to have for you this week. Alas.

Hope to have computer up and running at the flat soon. But, it could be days.