Layers, Staircases, You Know What I Mean, Right?

Have you ever thought of the vocabulary it takes to accomplish/dictate/oversee certain tasks? Instructing or delegating in the kitchen requires whomever you are working with to know the differences between dice, slice, chop, etc. If there is some kind of barrier to understanding you then have to show an example to get the desired product.

So what happens when you don't have the necessary vocabulary or an example? You pray and hope for the best.

When we moved here I was overdue for a haircut. We've been here over five months and obviously my need for a haircut has not diminished. I have taken note of the hairstyles of the women at church and found there was a sister who had a nice style, and her hair always looked good (she maintained the cut with follow-up cuts). I spoke to her daughter, and they were happy to help me get an appointment with the hair stylist. So, last Saturday I went in and watched the stylist cut Nursia's hair and then took my turn. I explained to her daughter, Mira, that I wanted bangs, liked layers, but didn't want my hair short. She relayed the information to the stylist and he spoke to me and indicated a length for the bangs, which I agreed to and off came the hair...

It was interesting telling Mira what I wanted and showing her what I meant with gestures to try and clarify the meaning. I have no idea what the words for bangs or layers are in Russian, but I think the word for layers may translate closely to staircases because that's what Mira kept saying when she couldn't remember the word I used.

My new look is definitely different than any I've had in a long time. For whatever reason, when I see myself in the reflection I laugh.

Our Little Raider

In order to be productive in the kitchen we often have to be pretty resourceful in occupying Baby. One effective method I use pretty frequently is something I saw my mom allow her grandbabies to do. Raid the cabinets.


Sometimes she just grabs things and pulls them to the floor, other times she will investigate an item until she loses interest and then drop it onto the floor... the options are endless. Unfortunately, the items in the cabinet are not...

Jack Sprat

Jack Sprat could eat no fat.

His wife could eat no lean.
And so between them both, you see,
They licked the platter clean!

My parents were fond of noting that Chris and I are the complete opposite of this childhood rhyme. Chris loves fat. I do not. He would prefer whole milk, I would prefer skim. We compromise with 1%. He likes dark meat, I like white meat, it's a perfect marriage, really it is.

During the winter it is common to serve salo with bread throughout the former Soviet Union. Salo hails from the Ukraine, where it is a favorite food, perhaps even considered a delicacy. We have been served it a few times. This is what it looks like:


So, what is salo? Raw pork fat. The fat is purchased and you take it home and season it with garlic, salt, herbs, other seasonings, and then you let it sit and soak in all the flavor. This is salo that our friend Anya made and brought to our home. I have tasted it, and while full of flavor, I'm not quite sure about the texture. Chris loves it.

The Saga of the Missing Key

Preface: Chris has been taking Kazakh lessons for the last month and a half. Because of our lesson schedules it worked out that once a week I would meet Chris after his Kazakh lesson to "hand off" Baby and I would then go to my English lesson.

My last week of lessons I happened to misplace my house key... I couldn't find it for days. We weren't really inconvenienced by the loss until my second lesson of the week. Chris was due to return home from running an errand and was running late. He called me and we arranged to meet at the bus stop so he could take Baby and I could run across the street to catch a bus headed in the right direction. When I went to the door to leave I realized I was locked in! (I often have Chris just lock the door after himself when he leaves so he can let himself back in. We can unlock the door from the inside, but we have to have one of our keys and since mine was missing... I was stuck!) I waited for Chris to get home and since we were then running late, he had to walk back to the main road with me to help me get a taxi.

The next day we were well aware of the one-key issue. It was our day to meet between Kazakh and English lessons and pass off Baby. Chris left and made sure to stress the importance of remembering to give him his keys when I gave him Baby. He even told me to put the keys in my jeans pocket so I would feel them and not forget to give them to him. At some point I thought it would be even better to just put the keys in the basket of our stroller, but decided against it as I wasn't sure how secure the keys would be when going over big bumps.

So, we met and passed off Baby and I walked a ways before getting on the bus. Already on the bus, halfway to my destination, I got a call from Chris. I remembered the keys were still in my pocket as I answered the phone. It would have been fine if he interrupted my lesson to get the keys, but traveling there wasn't very practical. I was able to quickly suggest that he visit our neighbors, as I was sure Anya and Stacia would be home.

I hurried home after the lesson but my total time away was about three hours. Just enough time for them to have quite the adventure. It went something like this:

About ten minutes after getting to Anya's, Baby's diaper was soaked through. They had to change her diaper and pull off her pants (also wet), and weren't exactly sure what to do next. (Since this was just a trade-off trip, the diaper bag was not carried in the stroller.) They put a pair of little girl panties (fresh from the box) with a small cloth on our 8-month old daughter. Minutes later Chris was holding Addie in the kitchen and she managed to wet herself and pretty much start spraying the kitchen too. Chris and Anya used a large dish towel with our snappy (works in place of diaper pins) and covered it with our plastic diaper cover. Anya found the smallest pair of Stacia's old tights and they put them on Addie to get her dressed and keep her little legs warm.

I think Chris was a little traumatized by the experience, but Addie didn't seem to think there was anything particularly unusual about the bulky terry-cloth diaper, or the amazingly long pair of tights. If only we could all be so easily pleased! =)



As for my key? I found it the next morning when my Russian tutor, Mira, came and I pulled out my Russian materials. Obviously, I'm not studying enough... =]

Walker Time

Addie is definitely at home in her walker. She is a big fan of the freedom it provides and isn't too happy with us when we close doors limiting her freedom for exploration.


Her first paparazzi picture. =D

The Gnome Hat

This is the "gnome" hat that Addie wears with her bear suit. Hopefully you can see that I wasn't kidding when I said it was long!

Addie and Her Daddy

I love these two.