Mac and Cheese and Pokemon knew what they were doing. Also syphilis. But don't tell Shakespeare, he's still a little touchy about the subject.
Sakartvelo's Police Hymn!!
Friday, April 23
Thursday, April 22
Let's start the day in the best of ways... this year edition.
In celebration of my director's birthday and my coworker planting blackberries on farmville, I'll give you 5 examples of wonderful ways to start your day. One of these was today.
ნაყინი (nakini) nightmares.
The deputy director, a sweet woman, told me I might want to pull my skirt up (fixed with a pin because lack of dryer stretched it out), and that my underwear's showing. I was wearing one of the Christmas presents from my parents, stuffed in the toe of my boots when they sent them over. They were bright pink.
warm weather's revenge
The very first time it's warm enough to eat in the kitchen and not in the living/petchi room, I arrived late to school because the clock in the kitchen is 5 minutes slow. My 12th graders were loitering outside, so I apologized and asked if they were coming to class. Later I realized I had them 3rd period and not 1st. I should have been apologizing to the 3rd graders. Whatev.just another day in Georgia
I arrived late to school and had forgotten my phone and meds. I searched for my counterpart, but she arrived later than I because she had a cold and low blood pressure and looked like she was about to collapse. She'd tried to call me twice. That same day, I had one student in 12th grade. I made him listen to "A Whole New World" and write in the pronouns.
have to wear gloves next time I weed...
One fine morning I woke up. I was very grateful that I woke up. The night before my pinky was red and swollen and my wrist hurt. I was so afraid I wouldn't wake up that I wrote the medical duty phone number on a scrap of paper, labeled it in Georgian, and left it next to my bed. I looked at my arm and saw a red line running from my pinky, twisting down my arm to my elbow. Hooray!
One winter morning, I wanted museli. I also wanted to keep the bag fresh. I ran up to my room quickly to fetch some tape, and I slipped on the freshly-mopped landing and cracked my head open on the stairs. When the ambulance driver came, he did paperwork over tea and honey while my head was leaking blood all over the pillow.
Nothing to Write Home About... ?
So, as I was breaking my notrunning team training program this morning, something occurred to me which has been percolating since yesterday or so. I greeted one of my 6th grade boys who usually hangs around the stadium the same time as me.
Turn on my jammin' tunes. I've got some new ones, thanks to a certain charitable donor. And the words seem to reflect my line of thought for the past few whatever-periods-of-time. Let me illuminate.
Yesterday I had a chat.
Rick: "You know, you should keep writing. You've got good stuff."
Me: "Most of the time it's like, 'Today I picked chinchari. Hooray.' Nothing really interesting."
By interesting, I mean writing style. Like, I just word vomit on the keyboard and whatever comes out is what you, my zillions of loyal fans, are stuck reading, if you make it to the end of the entries. Sorry I'm not very entertaining. I seem to have lost that in the shuffle of everyday life in the Twilight Zone. (That along with patience. There's only so many times I can handle "Does she like xinkali? What's her age? Do you like Georgia? You don't like meat? [finally realizing, after asking my CP and listening to me answer for myself multiple times that, I do understand simple questions. Then...] American people are cold," without losing all willpower against clumping all Georgians into one category, that of ridiculous goimi, and answering their questions with the same tone they are asked. That tone would be the one you use with slow children.
But anyway. I also met a Fulbrighter yesterday when picking up some ice cream before getting on the marshutka headed the opposite way of Ortachalla station, where I wanted to go to catch the marsh home. He was amazingly helpful in providing resources and had really cool research, and encouraged me to look into Fulbright. But... as I stop and think, I really haven't done much to impress people I will solicit employment from except "put a good effort in going through the motions of teaching, even though the best of her students still write things like 'I will poor. I will not steal because I will not like steal.'" No extra activities, not for Earth Day (local bio/geo teacher/host fam member planned that on her own), no SPA grant or progress since Project Design and Management training... no nothing. I barely manage to keep up with visiting the neighbors and helping the FFG advisor teacher download flash to get Farmville to work. And I've felt like I've been off gallivanting with my friend Ana a lot and neglecting the fam. More stress on myself.
So why was I in Tbilisi on a weekday in the first place? Well, this past weekend I've been chilling at home. So I decided I'd help out with some of the garden work. I learned გამარგვლა (gamargwla [weeding]). I also planted potatoes. A whole friggin field of potatoes. Mind you, I really don't like potatoes. I'll eat them when I haven't had enough bananas for the potassium, but, really, my starch needs are covered. Whatever. The point is, the day after weeding, my pinky slowly swelled up to the size of a hefty cigar, with the same amount of flexibility. Also there was a red line from my pinky to my elbow.
Called the doc, got a blood test, an x-ray from the cool Russian guy who x-rayed me before, spent the night at the PC-approved hostel (if I knew it was gonna be an overnight, I would have brought extra underwear...), and got put on antibiotics. But my finger was starting to heal itself, so whatev.
I became the impromptu PR for the docs to get G9s to present at PST sessions. I may participate in a couple of their sessions as well as (hopefully) "Host Family Integration" and "Avoiding Unwanted Attention."
I also got to see my old LCF and awesome friend Ana, which made my indeterminable period of time. And met some PCVs from Armenia and Azerbaijan who were in town to judge Writing Olympics, trans-Caucasus level.
Also, ice cream is back in a maghazia near you. Praise be to-- well, you know.
Speaking of which, I was Baptismnapped today while attempting to plan lessons. My CP was asked to be an emergency godmother, because the grandfather died so the kid needed to be Baptized STAT (or something like that), so we went to the baptism, at which the child screamed bloody murder when the priest brushed oil on her forehead/cheeks/feet. We then went to the obligatory supra. Neither of us really wanted to go, but it's tradition and The Right Thing To Do. And when the natural progression turned to the unique topic of "You Should Marry a Georgian," I calmly explained to them that I would only marry a man who "knows house's work, like washing the dishes and cleaning, because there are men like that in America, and we usually share the chores." Usual rounds of laughter from the men, and a "Georgian men--UGH!" from like the main lady there. Hooray!
So, like I said, nothing remarkable going on in my life.
Turn on my jammin' tunes. I've got some new ones, thanks to a certain charitable donor. And the words seem to reflect my line of thought for the past few whatever-periods-of-time. Let me illuminate.
Yesterday I had a chat.
Rick: "You know, you should keep writing. You've got good stuff."
Me: "Most of the time it's like, 'Today I picked chinchari. Hooray.' Nothing really interesting."
By interesting, I mean writing style. Like, I just word vomit on the keyboard and whatever comes out is what you, my zillions of loyal fans, are stuck reading, if you make it to the end of the entries. Sorry I'm not very entertaining. I seem to have lost that in the shuffle of everyday life in the Twilight Zone. (That along with patience. There's only so many times I can handle "Does she like xinkali? What's her age? Do you like Georgia? You don't like meat? [finally realizing, after asking my CP and listening to me answer for myself multiple times that, I do understand simple questions. Then...] American people are cold," without losing all willpower against clumping all Georgians into one category, that of ridiculous goimi, and answering their questions with the same tone they are asked. That tone would be the one you use with slow children.
But anyway. I also met a Fulbrighter yesterday when picking up some ice cream before getting on the marshutka headed the opposite way of Ortachalla station, where I wanted to go to catch the marsh home. He was amazingly helpful in providing resources and had really cool research, and encouraged me to look into Fulbright. But... as I stop and think, I really haven't done much to impress people I will solicit employment from except "put a good effort in going through the motions of teaching, even though the best of her students still write things like 'I will poor. I will not steal because I will not like steal.'" No extra activities, not for Earth Day (local bio/geo teacher/host fam member planned that on her own), no SPA grant or progress since Project Design and Management training... no nothing. I barely manage to keep up with visiting the neighbors and helping the FFG advisor teacher download flash to get Farmville to work. And I've felt like I've been off gallivanting with my friend Ana a lot and neglecting the fam. More stress on myself.
So why was I in Tbilisi on a weekday in the first place? Well, this past weekend I've been chilling at home. So I decided I'd help out with some of the garden work. I learned გამარგვლა (gamargwla [weeding]). I also planted potatoes. A whole friggin field of potatoes. Mind you, I really don't like potatoes. I'll eat them when I haven't had enough bananas for the potassium, but, really, my starch needs are covered. Whatever. The point is, the day after weeding, my pinky slowly swelled up to the size of a hefty cigar, with the same amount of flexibility. Also there was a red line from my pinky to my elbow.
Called the doc, got a blood test, an x-ray from the cool Russian guy who x-rayed me before, spent the night at the PC-approved hostel (if I knew it was gonna be an overnight, I would have brought extra underwear...), and got put on antibiotics. But my finger was starting to heal itself, so whatev.
I became the impromptu PR for the docs to get G9s to present at PST sessions. I may participate in a couple of their sessions as well as (hopefully) "Host Family Integration" and "Avoiding Unwanted Attention."
I also got to see my old LCF and awesome friend Ana, which made my indeterminable period of time. And met some PCVs from Armenia and Azerbaijan who were in town to judge Writing Olympics, trans-Caucasus level.
Also, ice cream is back in a maghazia near you. Praise be to-- well, you know.
Speaking of which, I was Baptismnapped today while attempting to plan lessons. My CP was asked to be an emergency godmother, because the grandfather died so the kid needed to be Baptized STAT (or something like that), so we went to the baptism, at which the child screamed bloody murder when the priest brushed oil on her forehead/cheeks/feet. We then went to the obligatory supra. Neither of us really wanted to go, but it's tradition and The Right Thing To Do. And when the natural progression turned to the unique topic of "You Should Marry a Georgian," I calmly explained to them that I would only marry a man who "knows house's work, like washing the dishes and cleaning, because there are men like that in America, and we usually share the chores." Usual rounds of laughter from the men, and a "Georgian men--UGH!" from like the main lady there. Hooray!
So, like I said, nothing remarkable going on in my life.
Tuesday, April 13
danit etxoba...
So, it's been a while again. (That seems to be my catch phrase here. Maybe I've found myself a new subtitle.)
I don't know if I've been busy or lazy to update. (Sub-subtitle?)
Either way, it's been coupled with a general feeling of listlessness and worthlessness and worrying. (Again, nothing new under the sun.)
So what has been new? Last week was Easter. I was invited to go to Batumi with some of the other guys, but I stayed home because it was the host sister/niece's b-day and Easter. Cool stuff: watched paska being baked. Paska's like 8 times the work of babovka to yield an inferior product; dry and without scrumptious poppyseed filling. Also, Eteri (mom/grandma) took off everything but innermost shirt, so host mom/sister glanced at my camera and said: "Make sure to get a picture of her chest and tell everyone it's traditional; you HAVE to prepare paska with cleavage." I'll post pics later. ; D
All Sunday I helped prep food for Supras 1 and 2 last week Monday and Tuesday. List: fried meat roll things, boiled meat in cabbage leaves, and 3 types of mayonaissey salads.
Supra #1 was kind of a failure because we prepared for like 25 guests and got maybe 10, an hour after the proposed starting time. Maybe it's because everyone decided that day they were going to have guests. Because it was the day after Easter. Just maybe. I ducked out early and talked with some awesome peeps on Skype. You know who you are. Holla at ya.
Supra #2 was a bit of a shit show. Like I said before, 13-year-old's b-day. Parents and I ate downstairs and left the kids upstairs in the supra room to their own devices. There's no drinking age here. We were chomming down and having a good time when one of my fourth graders burst in, hoists her wineglass, yells "TO THIS FAMILY!!!!", downs the glass, and runs out again to wreak some mystery mischief.
Other highlights of the night include being told I'm awesome by tipsy family members, passably reciprocating (some of the "you're awesome" was "you stylishly handled that chacha when we had the Chiakokonoba outside-night-picnic"), eating decent coffee-flavored torti, and getting a little too excited about talking to people online. You also know who you are. Holla at ya.
Also, Part of the Fam Test 1:
You're casually drying your stack of silverware with your dishtowel, glance at a knife, and ask, "This isn't ours, is it?" When the answer is a laugh and an "ara!", you know you're in.
I don't know if I've been busy or lazy to update. (Sub-subtitle?)
Either way, it's been coupled with a general feeling of listlessness and worthlessness and worrying. (Again, nothing new under the sun.)
So what has been new? Last week was Easter. I was invited to go to Batumi with some of the other guys, but I stayed home because it was the host sister/niece's b-day and Easter. Cool stuff: watched paska being baked. Paska's like 8 times the work of babovka to yield an inferior product; dry and without scrumptious poppyseed filling. Also, Eteri (mom/grandma) took off everything but innermost shirt, so host mom/sister glanced at my camera and said: "Make sure to get a picture of her chest and tell everyone it's traditional; you HAVE to prepare paska with cleavage." I'll post pics later. ; D
All Sunday I helped prep food for Supras 1 and 2 last week Monday and Tuesday. List: fried meat roll things, boiled meat in cabbage leaves, and 3 types of mayonaissey salads.
Supra #1 was kind of a failure because we prepared for like 25 guests and got maybe 10, an hour after the proposed starting time. Maybe it's because everyone decided that day they were going to have guests. Because it was the day after Easter. Just maybe. I ducked out early and talked with some awesome peeps on Skype. You know who you are. Holla at ya.
Supra #2 was a bit of a shit show. Like I said before, 13-year-old's b-day. Parents and I ate downstairs and left the kids upstairs in the supra room to their own devices. There's no drinking age here. We were chomming down and having a good time when one of my fourth graders burst in, hoists her wineglass, yells "TO THIS FAMILY!!!!", downs the glass, and runs out again to wreak some mystery mischief.
Other highlights of the night include being told I'm awesome by tipsy family members, passably reciprocating (some of the "you're awesome" was "you stylishly handled that chacha when we had the Chiakokonoba outside-night-picnic"), eating decent coffee-flavored torti, and getting a little too excited about talking to people online. You also know who you are. Holla at ya.
Also, Part of the Fam Test 1:
You're casually drying your stack of silverware with your dishtowel, glance at a knife, and ask, "This isn't ours, is it?" When the answer is a laugh and an "ara!", you know you're in.
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