Photos, Jimmy Stewart, and Christmas Cards

Mel and I chose a fairly recent photo of ourselves to send with our Christmas postcards this year. Yesterday we walked down to the city center, to a little photo shop and had copies made. Took an hour, an hour in which Mel and I then went and had a nice lunch together. Kind of our date for the week.

After we picked up the photos, we went over to the local 'department store,' TsUM, to see if they might by chance have mailing labels in their stationery/school/business supplies section. They did not. In fact, the saleswoman seemed a bit insulted that I would ask for them. Told me she didn't know what they were called in Russian (I described them to her) and told me to go to the post office and ask there. She was - huffy. That's a nice way to say it, huffy.

Ha ha!

So, while Mel then went looking for The Nutcracker Suite in the music department, I looked at movies. I was very surprised to find The Far Country, starring Jimmy Stewart. Wow! I looked at the price - 39 griven - and decided to buy it. I had told Mel last week that he was not allowed to buy any more music or DVD's until Christmas, yet there we were, in the music/DVD section of TsUM, looking for both. He commented and I said something on the order of, you aren't allowed to buy any before you ask ME. :) :) Christmas is coming....!!!! He did not find The Nutcracker, but we did buy The Far Country.

We came home and I set to work getting some of the Christmas postcards ready to mail. I tried one time to send a postcard through the mail here just like we would in the States. The post office lady was horrified. It was not in an envelope!! Anyone could read what was written on my postcard! Put it in an envelope!!! So, since that time, I always put my postcards here in envelopes. Well, this time I'm sending a photo, too, so I'd need an envelope one way or another anyway. I still think it's odd that the postcards here have a place for postage right on them, but she insisted they need envelopes.

Whatever.

I am a Christmas card lover. I love to choose them. I love to prepare them. I love to cover the envelopes in all sorts of stickers. I love to write the addresses. I like to send them, I like to receive them. I like working with mail, actually, which is probably why I liked working in the mail room for so many years at Young Life.

There is something nice about mail. A letter is like a book in many ways. It is made of paper. You hold it in your hands. You can fold it and carry it in your purse or billfold to read again, altho you couldn't put a book in your billfold... :) You have to open it. The first time you read it, you are not quite sure exactly what is going to be in it. You have to read it. It is covered in written words and when those words are actually handwritten - oh! it is so personal, so nice to read, so mine.

The problem with sending all the postcards that we send from Ukraine, is that I have to write on them. They are not simple Merry Christmas! Happy New Year! from us. No, I write a brief note and thank you on each to our prayer and financial partners, possibly more to our family members and close friends.

That is the norm for me.

But this year - I am having really bad arthritis in my thumbs and holding a pen for more than a couple minutes becomes shear agony. It is still very easy to type and to use the computer, but holding a pen is a different story. It's the same reason that although I have crocheted for years and love doing it, I have switched to knitting over the past year. Holding a crochet hook really hurts now, but holding the knitting needles does not - yet. They are held differently in the hands.

So, I am writing a couple postcards and then resting for several minutes. I am taking my ibuprofen and using a pain-reliever cream on my hands (I like one better than the other, but Mel says when I use it, I smell like an old woman. ha ha! I like the smell because it reminds me of when I was a kid and my great-aunt would give me those wonderful pink peppermints to eat - smells just like them.) This Christmas is a bit different for me. Age is showing. The age of the body is showing more. My hands are betraying me. I know there is joint replacement for the joints in the hands, but I am not going there! Nope. No. Nyet. Nine. Nada. Non. And so forth in many languages where the negative seems to always begin with the letter N. I'm hoping to get all the postcards out by this time next week.

After I had been working on the postcards for an hour or so last night, Mel put on The Far Country. I don't remember ever watching this movie before. I wonder if my father has it? He has a lot of movies starring Jimmy Stewart. Near the beginning of the movie I told Mel I thought it must have been filmed at or near Banf National Park, in Canada. Sure enough, at the end there was a special thank you to Jasper National Park for allowing them to film there. I was just a few kilometers off, but in the right area. :) I really liked the movie, not for the story line, which was kind of hokey, but for the scenery. Oh, wow, it was really, really pretty. I want to be there! It was a nice movie to watch just now. I'm still surprised it was at TsUM, however.

And life continues.
I look forward to my perfect heavenly body, more and more each day, but I really like the holiday season here on earth.

The little things make life so good.

Post Office Surprises and Questions

I went to the post office today. I needed to mail some letters that have been sitting on the table for 8 days now. Eight days! I tend to put off going to the post office when I need to buy stamps because I know I'll be in for a long, hot wait.

Today was no different.

Except that not only did I need to mail a bunch of letters, but I was expecting a package. I ordered a couple of Christmas presents from the Friends of Yellowstone bookstore. I sent an email along with the order, making sure that they knew this order was being shipped to Ukraine, not to the zip code on the package. For some reason, Ukraine chose to use a zip code system that uses the same numbers as the States uses. Grrr. We've had letters mailed to us before that ended up in:
Logan County, OK
Zip code population (2000): 1,059
Estimated population in 2005: 1,053
before they reached us. The person at the bookstore responded that they were sending the order to me USPS first class, or global first class or something like that. I don't think there is an Air Mail now like what I used to use when I worked in a mailroom.

I opened up our little post office "box" and there was a letter from our employer and a little slip that said there was a letter waiting for us behind the counter, and scratched in at the bottom, a package, too.

I got in line.
And waited.
And sweated.
And waited.
And sweated.
And waited and sweated.
And - did I mention that I sweated while I waited?

Unfortunately, some dear person who will remain nameless at this point is going to receive the letter that was on the pile that got dripped on the most. Sorry. I couldn't help it! The sweat was dripping off my nose and chin before I could catch it.

Gross, huh? :):):) ha ha

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of listening to old women bitch at each other (I've been waiting for too long! Why don't you have my pension NOW? When will Lyuda be back and why is she gone? Can't you hurry up? Why isn't my favorite paper in here yet?) and to the old woman behind me in line who got up 3 times to stand behind me when she happened to think that maybe, possibly, could it be that the line was going to move forward? No. She was panting and wheezing and panting some more all over my arm. (She was kind of short...)

Finally it was my turn and I said clearly that I wanted stamps for these letters (this pile is all the same, these are different weights) plus an additional 20 stamps ("Plus 20 additional stamps?" "Yes.") and the woman behind the counter went to work. I wonder why their computer does not do addition and subtraction? Why do they use a computer AND an adding machine? Why does she have to look in 4 (I counted) different little books to figure out what a couple of additional grams costs to mail to the US? Why don't they have stamps in the correct amounts, but instead have to figure out "If I use one of these and two of these, then it will be ... a kopeck too much. Darn. Let's start over now. If I use three of these and two of those stamps then it will be ..." And finally she finishes and hands me my receipt and I say: "Where are the additional 20 stamps?" And she laughs at me and says, "You wanted another 20 stamps??" And I respond, "Yes. But not now. This lady (indicating Wheezer) has been waiting a long time. Next time." And I smile at her, wipe the sweat off my face one more time, pick up my packages!!! and leave.

Why is it that no one else standing in there is sweating like I am?? Maybe because I drink an appropriate amount of water every day and very few people here do? Most likely.

While I'm standing there quietly watching carefully everything that is going on, inside I am jumping up and down with anticipation because:

There is a surprise box for me!!! From SDSue!!!! And I think I know what might possibly be in it and I'm wondering how in the world I will ever be able to say thank you enough!!!

The post office is 2 blocks away. I walked over in less than 10 minutes. I walked back in less than 10 minutes. I was gone for an hour. When I got there, there were 3 people ahead of me, and one left right away.

Amazing. Absolutely amazing.

So, what was in the box? When I got home, Cheyenne wanted to know, too!
What does this say?
Maybe it says something on the back?
Maybe it's something tasty!
If I keep rubbing all over it, maybe she'll open it so I can see!!
No wonder "mom" was so excited!

Thank you, SDSue!!!! Unfortunately, we are going to someones place for dinner tonight so this is going to have to wait until tomorrow morning.

I hope I can wait that long!!!!

Today Was a Really Crappy Day

Today was a really crappy day. Actually, it was more than that. It was a really shitty day. Oh my gosh – I can hear someone gasp. Did she really say that? Can a missionary say “shitty?” Only if she really, really means it. (see The Air Up There movie for further reference and approval).

It started out ok. We got rain. Deep, dark gray clouds that burst in a huge downpour that quenched the hot dry earth. It was wonderful. It was needed. The rain was a blessing.

And then – the rest of the day happened.

Mel went to Ovir with Irina to try and finish getting us registered here in the city. They told him I needed to come in as well (first time for that), and that he needed to get our insurance card translated into Ukrainian (and the translators wanted a real copy of it, not the Xeroxed copy – huh???) and another letter of invitation for me by name individually. Plus they wanted Sergei N. to come in as he is the one who signed the letter of invitation. So, Mel called me and told me to be ready (dress up nice, he instructed) to leave by 2:30 to be there at the KGB building by 3pm for our meeting with the Ovir officials. I said ok. He then took off with Irina to get all the additional stuff done in a very short amount of time (amazing what money can accomplish).

I thought to myself – great, I have almost 3 and a half hours before I have to be ready to leave. I’ll clean the toilet – it needs it. Into the toilet room I went. The toilet “shelf” only had a tiny bit of water on it – not a good sign. I pulled the plunger – nothing happened. I turned and looked out at the clock on the livingroom wall – 11:45am and no water – not a good sign. Sigh. Sure enough – the water never came back on until late this evening.

I decided to tat awhile – the one bright spot in my day. I actually made something – I made a circle of 7 rings, all joined together – and I did it right for the first time! I’ll frame it! No, actually, I plan to sew it onto the pillow patchwork quilt thing I’m making in the craft class so I can look at it and beam with pleasure. Or maybe I’ll hide it so I won’t have to remember this day. Decisions, decisions.

I finished my ring and proudly laid it on the table. I came into the office room and got on the internet. Well – I tried to get on the internet. I fought with the internet connection. I tried the cable six ways until Sunday (is that a phrase?) and then I finally went to dial-up. I downloaded an email from our team administrator wanting to know why we are over budget for the year at this point. I got out all of the financial records and started going over them.

I finally called someone and asked a question about something and got into an argument and hung up on the person. I was livid. I was steaming. Mel and Sergei had arrived and Mel was fixing lunch. I was walking around the livingroom yelling – quietly yelling. If Sergei had not been there, I would have been in tears and really yelling. As it was, I later apologized to him for exploding as I did in front of him and he said don’t worry about it – he understood completely. Well, I finally sat here at the desk while Mel and Sergei ate some lunch, going over the financial reports and writing an email back. Hopefully it’s ok – it’s the facts and nothing but the facts, ma’am. (And no, it was not the financial administrator of our team I got into an argument with!)

Then Mel called a taxi and we headed downstairs. At the bottom of our steps we met two people coming in (they will remain nameless). They had come for the church board meeting. But there was no board meeting because only three of the guys are in town right now – everyone else is at camp or in St. Petersburg, Russia. One of them got into a major argument with Sergei. Our neighbors sat on the bench outside and listened. The taxi arrived and we got Sergei away from the person yelling (quietly, but yelling) at him and we took off for Ovir.

We met Irina at Ovir and went inside. Into a not-wide hallway with about a dozen people lined up, crowded together, all waiting to get into one of two tiny, little, itty-bitty rooms when it came their turn. Irina claimed her spot next in line and came over and sat down with us around a corner. When the person in front of her was next, she got up and went and took her place in front of all the other people who had arrived after us (no “take a number, please” here – more of a “save my place in line, will you?”). We sat and sat. And finally we were called into the first itty-bitty office with 3 desks, 4 officials, two of us and Irina and Sergei. To put it very mildly – it was a little crowded. And a little hot. Three computers, a couple or three printers, shelves of notebooks labeled in Ukrainian with all sorts of official words, like Propiscus and Protikol and Studyenti and many, many more. Notebooks of forms to fill out for every occasion.

I was given one of the two empty chairs, Irina the other. Mel and Sergei stood in the tiny space between the door into the office and the door into the second teeny office. They moved around a lot as people passed them. Now both Mel and Sergei are not what you would call “small men.” The room got hotter and hotter. I sat and watched. I sat and listened. I sat and watched the hands on the clock move from 3:30 to 3:45 to 4:00. I understood about absolutely nothing that was said – I’m not sure if it was in Russian or Ukrainian actually, but I think it was mostly in Russian, but spoken very quietly.

Sergei had to give his passport. They took it away and made copies. They put all of Mel’s papers together and finally told him to come back on Tuesday and get his passport – he was registered. They told him to leave (go sit down on the soft chairs, was their order) They played with my passport. They played with my papers. They looked at the fronts, they looked at the backs, they read every word of everything – kind of. They decided that I was definitely in trouble. I needed to be punished. I needed to go to court tomorrow (which is actually today now) and see the judge and find out whether the judge thinks I’m so bad that I need to be kicked out of the country and have my visa revoked (I am 5 days overdue on my registration after all!), or maybe I’ll have to pay a fine instead. (We are all betting on the fine.) The official looked at Irina and said, “In the East women are viewed as second class citizens and if their husband is registered, they do not have to be. But Ukraine is a civilized country, so wives must be registered here as well.” She laughed rather sarcastically, and I wondered why since for all I could tell, he may have been going over the periodic table of the elements with her. She wouldn’t translate it until we had left the building. So, one young man copied out everything needed from my papers onto another paper, by hand, in ink. Then he did the same for Sergei. Two sides, 4 pages each total. Then Sergei and I signed our individual papers. I have no idea what I signed – but Irina read it, she signed her part as my translator and told me to sign where the marks were at. I signed.

And then I thought – oh no! I signed one place with my first and last name, I signed the other two with my first name, middle initial and last name!!! This is grounds for having the papers thrown out on a whim and having to start all over from the very beginning IF someone decided they want to prove they are in charge of their part of that paper – my signature. We will see. Tomorrow I will find out – when I go to court and face the judge and receive my sentence.

We left the KGB building. Mel’s phone rang and it was the person who had been arguing with Sergei in our stairwell. That person wanted to talk to Sergei again. Mel handed the phone to Sergei as we left the building. The person on the other line started in, yelling again. Irina and I walked off, Mel rolled his eyes, followed, with Sergei trying to calm the other person down as we walked around the corner to Pan Pizza. We needed a snack to get our strength back. Irina and I shared a pizza, Mel had coffee and Sergei ordered an omelette (his stomach is still bothering him from the food poisoning/virus he had over the weekend). Sergei’s food arrived, but he decided he really didn’t want to eat the spider that was cooked in the side of the omelette, so we called the waitress back over. After examining the spider and seeing that several of it’s legs really were cooked IN the egg mixture, she took it back inside to the kitchen. He still got his meal before Irina and I finally got our pizza.

Mel and I came home in a taxi because at that point I did NOT want to walk. I just wanted to go home and cry and release some emotional pressure (and get over a hot flash I was having). Mel got into the taxi, reached up and out the open window, grabbed the plastic doohickey thing around the window and pulled the door shut. And broke the plastic doohickey thing – yep, broke it right it two. We got home and the driver got out and came around to Mel’s side. I walked up to the stairwell door and opened it, turned around and just watched. Both of their backs toward me and the neighbors sitting on the bench watching what was going on. Mel and taxi guy conferred. Taxi guy took the broken parts out of the window. Mel got out his wallet. They talked some more. The neighbors leaned forward, trying to get a better look and hear what was going on. Mel opened his wallet, the taxi guy looked into Mel’s wallet – several times. Mel gave him the fare and something more. He turned and walked over to me, and we came upstairs. The plastic doohickey thing cost us 100 griven, or about $20 because, as it was explained to Mel, the driver was going to have to replace them all since they are sold in sets, not individually.

I checked email again. I’ve been trying to find out some info on our insurance and why we haven’t been reimbursed for meds this whole year. Now, I would have realized this was happening a LOT sooner if we had been getting our mail on a regular basis. But, just last week we finally got 4 envelopes, the oldest one was stamped June 13 (we still have not received all of July’s mail to say nothing of August). I had eagerly opened them to look at the EOB’s (Explanation of Benefits) and found absolutely none inside. I had tried to get into the internet site where we can look up all sorts of important stuff that we need but don’t know that we need until after we needed it already and it’s too late. Hear my frustration? Well, I’d spent over an hour earlier trying to get info and could not stay on-line either by cable or by dial-up. Finally, tonight, I made it. Emails back and forth to our mission headquarters started flying and I got mad. Really, really mad. Crying mad. Panicked mad. Shouting mad (except it was then midnight and I didn’t want to wake our neighbors so I didn’t). I wrote a frustrated, very frustrated at the system (not the person) email and went to bed. I don’t know if the problem can be fixed – and if not, we will be paying a lot of money because I did not catch a problem with our insurance until just today. A lot of money out of pocket that we should never have had to pay. So, we actually pay it twice – once in insurance premiums and second at the counter when we did not pay the right amount.

It is after 3 am. I have to be in court in 7 hours and I am wide awake. This day is not getting any better. But I feel better now. I cried. I told Mel all about it (poor man!) through tears and runny nose. I tossed and turned. I finally got up and wrote it all down. It’s been a shitty day. But maybe I can go to sleep now. (I still will have to apologize to the person I hung up on. But – “I’ll think about it tomorrow” – I’m in Scarlett O’Hara mode again…..)