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.

grammar cop

Let's talk about introductory interjections.

(sing along: Interjections, for excitement, or emotion, are generally set apart from a sentence by an exclamation point or by a comma when the feeling's not as strong.)

I've seen a couple of things around the blogoshpere lately that are commenting on good news and start with alas. One sighting I'd let slip as a typo made in the throes of emotion. But, then I saw it again...and the grammar cop in me itches to educate.

I'm fairly sure the writers meant at last.
Alas is a completely different word that expresses regret.

Tomorrow is moving day for me. If I were sad about it, I'd say, "Alas, it's moving day." But, since I'm really excited that it's finally here I'll say, "At last! It's moving day!"

Just wanted to make sure everyone had that down in case there is some news later this week...especially if it's about me being one step closer to a lass or two--at last!

Okay, fellow grammar cops. Aside from homophone confusion and its resulting apostrophe catastrophes, what grammar infractions have you spotted lately?

six words-edited

Annie challenged me to tell the story of me in six words.

This was prompted by the story that Hemingway (note from Kate re: Hemmingway: yuck) once bet ten dollars that he could sum up his life in six words. His words were, “For Sale: Baby Shoes, Never Worn.”

I had a ball! It's like an assignment from acting school. I've got a bunch saved just for me. But the one you get is...

Clever girls don't share all secrets.

Now...who might like to play along?

(Here's where the editing comes in:)
I'm untagging because I was always picked last for kickball. (Spelling bees were another matter.) And, I'm untagging because I think it's more fun this way. Anyone who wants, please leave your six word story in the comments. It would be fun to see them all in one place.

It's a little addicting. I was just washing my hands and thought
1-2-3-4-5-6-yep--

A wish is an unaddressed prayer.

leftovers

Not really enough for a potluck here...just some leftovers.

I'm back on antibiotics. This time it's 15 days of Avelox (and lots of "good bacteria" capsules). As soon as I go off an antibiotic, two days later I'm sick again. So, this "persistent bactrial infection" is now getting zapped by long-term antibiotics.

Some of my yahoos have also added vitamin D to my Rx. I tried to buy the kind recommended to me at two different places with no success. They each gave me the phone number (only three digits--like the number for roadside assistance which you know I have memorized) but I'm not very good at talking on the phone in Russian. It takes away my pantomime skills. Calling a taxi is easy because it follows a script. Calling to ask where in the city I might find this product would likely give me TMRI.

Instead went to my favorite, little tiny apteka. I didn't go there first because I had to buy cat litter and they other places were by the zoo market. I almost didn't go at all because I thought it might be so obscure a product that I'd have to go to the huge apteka further along. But, because it's my favorite, I stopped in anyway.

The people there are always nice. They are always interested in talking to me--asking questions about my life here and in the US. They are patient. And, they almost always have what I need--whether it's cat medicine or mosquitol. This time, they didn't have it, but the pharmacist asked where I was sick.

I explained I have had a bacterial infection for many, many days. (I always forget the word for weeks when I need it.) I am taking antibiotics and Actimel. My friend in America, who is a nurse, said I need vitamin D.

Questions about whether I actually need an Imm0dium-like product.

No, vitamin D.

Voila! I have it both in capsule and in liquid form.

The head of the motorpool at the consulate (much better, kinder, more helpful than our guy at school) dealt with the garage for me. We're not doing the brakes now. And, we're using some sort of soft piping that I don't quite understand...It should be ready in a week and a half.

Moving day is approaching! Hooray! Delicate Movers will be here Tuesday morning to pack and then delicately move my things across the courtyard. They're planning on bubble-wrapping my desk.

That possible adoption news I had for you this week looks like it might come next week.

sparrows

Two nights ago, I felt compelled to get out of bed and look at the database.

I've learned my lesson the hard way about the database and I. stay. off. There was a little girl on there, F, whom I've mentioned before. She is the reason I was disappointed to be leaving St. P. She has my eyes. Have you ever looked at those children and seen yourself looking back? It's a powerful thing. She simply and immediately belonged to me. The connection, in one moment, was strong, visceral, spiritual. I wanted so much to bring this little girl home. I have been praying for her and thinking of her. I've seen her sitting on her bed in her bedroom right next to my computer and playing on my living room rug. Her picture is on my 'fridge to this day.

I was told that she has CP. I don't believe this. I simply cannot reconcile it with her photo. I know that photos can be misleading, but I think there was an error made somewhere. I've tried to find more information out about her. But, Russia protects its orphans well. It's not possible to simply make inquiries. I don't even know which children's home she's in. I have a stack of Christmas presents for her and her group that I've never been able to deliver.

When I was told that I would not be allowed to adopt from St. Petersburg, I felt as if I'd lost F. Knowing she couldn't come home, that I'd never hold her hand as we walked down the street, with her face turned up to mine and her eyes dancing as she chattered away, just broke my heart. I know that sounds ridiculous. How can you be so fully attached, feel so loving towards a child you've never met? Surely saying my heart was broken is hyperbole. I can only tell you that God put this child in my heart-and told me to pray. And in prayer she became a little bit mine. I grieved for a long time over her.

When I was urged from my bed two nights ago to go to the database, I thought there must be a little girl in my new region who needed prayer. I trepidatiously put in the age criteria and scrolled through the little faces. While some are dear and they are certainly in need, none of them called out to me the way F had.

After I'd seen all the four-, five- and six-year-olds in that region I decided to click over to see F. She wasn't there. I broadened the criteria and looked through all the five-year-old girls in St. P. She really wasn't there.

My heart leapt! While I know there can be many reasons she's off the database, I choose to believe that someone else looked into her eyes and saw themselves. They smiled at her crooked pigtails. They saw both the uncertainty and the courage in her smile. And they took her home.

My prayer for this little sparrow is that God keeps His eye on her and His arms around her. I pray that she is loved and cherished. I pray that one day in Heaven I will throw my arms around her and cover her with kisses and she will know that I've prayed for her without ceasing.

Believing that F has found a family frees me, in a way, to go and find d2b. Moving to a new flat and away from the bedroom I thought was hers lets me leave her there, contentedly playing with her doll. I don't have to replace her, to put someone else in her picture.

Maybe it's really time.

guest blogger

Sometimes I think my car should have its own blog.

Today, after calling for a jump start because I hadn't driven it since Friday, I took my car in to have the gas tank examined. We didn't know if it needed to be replaced or if the seal around the gas tank needed to be replaced. A friend had set up the appointment for me and the mechanincs were supposed to know what the problem was and have a plan to fix it. We were even going to go part shopping together if that's what was needed.

When I drove in, the guy asked me if I brought the spark plugs (translates as "candles", fyi) or if I wanted to use theirs. Off to a great start, eh? I told them my spark plugs were fine, my gas tank was leaking. (From this point on we used the telephone to have a friend translate most of the rest of this--speaking car and Russian is too much for me.)

He went into the pit to take a look under my car at the leaking gas tank still smoking his cigarette. That didn't really inspire confidence. I'm thankful we didn't all explode.

He said he didn't know how I'd been able to drive in because the "frog" (this means u joint...which I still had to look up on google) was half gone. He said it must've been very noisy.

Ummm, no. No noise. Just leaking gas when the tank is more than half full.

I asked if it needed a repair or a new tank (without my phone translator, thank you very much) and he, of course, said I needed a new tank. He would do a complete work-up and call us later with the list of what needed doing.

I found a metro and went home to wait for the list.

The list is: replace gas tank (13, 500 r) and pipe leading to gas tank (12, 000 r), replace u joint, brake pads and brake discs. The grand total for all parts and labor is estimated at 41,500 r--or about $1755. YIKES!

The thing is, the car wasn't making any noises, the brakes probably should be replaced, and I have no idea if the tank and pipe actually need replacing or if it's just the little rubber seal that's worn. I'm hoping that our car guy from school will come with me to the mechanics on Wednesday to give his opinion. (Although, frankly, he doesn't seem to know that much more about cars than I.) Basically, I'm at their mercy. In this land of specialization, there aren't free-lancers who work on cars in general. You take American cars to this place. I don't know where else you take them. It was recommended that I get a second opinion. When I asked who could give that opinion, no one knew.

Sheesh. Not the news I was hoping for today.

mini bite, 2

I'm not sure about the new X-Files movie. (Thanks, M, for the heads up! I know nothing about pop culture living here.)

I went and watched the preview. Hm. (with only one "m") Almost a "huh" without a question mark.

Chris Carter said somewhere (no footnotes, remember?) that the X-files was always a romance; that the rare, intellectual romance between Mulder and Scully was what appealed most to the fans. I would agree. Love it.

But, I also liked them riding off into the sunset together at the end of the series. (Let's not get into a discussion about that last season right now, okay? I'm still sick.) Because, let's face it, a girl's not all intellect.

And the trailer made it look like they've been in separate sunsets.

Unless that was a trick.

And it could be.

But I don't really want to go and see that they fought and split up after a year. Or have been living separate lives for the safety of their child. Or whatever.

Of course, that's only the writer's opinion.

And what do they know?

Not as much as me.

For example, I know Scarlett got Rhett back. (And don't even mention that pseudo-sequel that I refused to read. Rubbish. Leave it alone. It didn't have to be written. We knew.)

But I have to see this movie. I might even go see it in Russian. Maybe. If I can find it. Maybe it will even be in English with Russian subtitles!

So, if those writers mess things up and say that Mulder and Scully split up, I can just ignore the writers and concentrate on what I know is the truth.

After all, the truth is out there, and 24 July is another day.

snag?

Yeah.

I was told (by DHS in Moscow) that all I had to do to receive my free I171H extension was to write them a letter and submit an updated homestudy.

I was told (by sw2) that it was fine for the homestudy to follow the request--that she has had that experience often and everything would be fine.

I was told (yesterday, via e-mail, after I'd checked in on things) that they had received my homestudy but it seemed that all my other paperwork had expired.

I told them (briefly) what I'd been told and what I'd done. And I asked if there was anything else I had to do.

I told them if there was further paperwork needed (didn't mention that hefty fee) to let me know, that I might cry a little bit (never hurts to pull that emotion card--lesson learned) and then would comply.

I'm waiting to be told the outcome.