tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-143113232024-03-07T03:46:45.500-05:00NO SLEEP 'TIL 2026And I thought that sleep deprivation ends when a baby gets to be about one year old. Boy, was I wrong! And even when my baby-boy is sound asleep, there's still plenty to keep me up - my hubby, my cat, my work, my house work, Facebook, etc., etc.Yelenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14694419115983802067noreply@blogger.comBlogger197125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14311323.post-59595802565358400262009-09-10T23:31:00.002-04:002009-09-10T23:36:07.543-04:00New blogI haven't posted in a while, the reasons being I got swamped with work and other goings-on here plus I started another blog - <a href="http://www.beebopparade.blogspot.com/">The BeeBopParade</a>. You see, I figured that most of my updates for the last 2 years revolved around Mr. Mark. So it only makes sense to create a separate blog for him and his adventures.<br /><br />Not sure what to do with this blog yet (will explore some ideas, such as turning it into a scrapbook or make it private and keep cute, but strictly personal diary in it).<br /><br />Hope to see you over at <a href="http://www.beebopparade.blogspot.com/">BeeBopParade</a>!Yelenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14694419115983802067noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14311323.post-54226643038526612252009-07-05T21:24:00.004-04:002009-07-05T22:52:46.053-04:00Independence Day '09<div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiceRYckzrCph_sRE5YtYjZZIRJKIKLqwKIDxSt5ZE53yA5MFa4hvrMoQ7Bgt4GMWyuckc77DJmsRn4z6MytvScu6sv41ipo721GFYlIVMCrHDujZBEkSgqJG3Cwxwx0TlSFiJD/s1600-h/DSC05201.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355166291028254226" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiceRYckzrCph_sRE5YtYjZZIRJKIKLqwKIDxSt5ZE53yA5MFa4hvrMoQ7Bgt4GMWyuckc77DJmsRn4z6MytvScu6sv41ipo721GFYlIVMCrHDujZBEkSgqJG3Cwxwx0TlSFiJD/s320/DSC05201.JPG" border="0" /></a>Great Independence Day this year! First thing in the morning, I celebrated independence from my alarm clock. Chris entertained Mark (who got up at his usual 6:30am, grrrr) and I got to sleep in. What's even better is that after I woke up at around 9am, I got to spend another half-hour in bed reading - something I haven't done in years. <div><div></div><br /><div>In the mean time, Chris took Mark to buy some fireworks. Of course, he couldn't wait for the evening and soon was teaching Mark to throw Pop-Its. Mark was having lots of fun with them. </div><div></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355166281526860994" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjYlQSReVqo5hnIUHQcf_1IuEq4Ei5fF0DYSUx_dqgaxAFLpvYwFCmNIm-Byrf0OC68mdUFIunaoyn4Dk6Iws_AEsiWdi_iqccws55jI0WMbvLiqgXAZB3u3ugE87YMGdDZj9x/s320/DSC05220.JPG" border="0" /> <div>Since we didn't have any plans, we just stayed home and watched our garden grow (and yes, it is more fun than it sounds). We've already picked quite a few tomatoes and a couple of cucumbers. As a matter of fact, the first thing Mark does when out in the garden is going to the cherri tomatoes, picking one and eating it on the spot. He then goes over to the cukes and looks for one ready to pick. If he finds it, he pulls it off the vine and bites right into it. Now, if Mark would only munch on a sprig of parsley and nibble on a leaf or two of basil, he'd be having a kind of deconstructed salad. Just wait 'til the watermelons get big, LOL. </div><div></div><br /><div>Back to the 4th of July... Back in the house, Chris noticed that one of the gallon jugs of milk was about to expire and decided to try making some mozzarella. And then he used the whey to make ricotta... And then whatever was left he used to bake bread with... All turned out very yummy! See, now we can make our own sweet butter (made it last weekend), cheese, and of course bread. Add fresh tomatoes and basil and we can open our own little restaurant, LOL.</div><br /><div></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355166301303321698" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWTjlI7dZlthas2tpHizSyIKpFpy53fY3FbCF4SKsXOqvslDsEzBeKgLtOj-LRsLBT6J44jlwSYDPNeoI9dINULLZPF5XGJL1Why7r6gRu8Ztsqsxx48qQzdMg3SJcUlykDCK1/s320/DSC05230.JPG" border="0" /> <div>In the evening we all went over to our friends (and neighbors) for some 4th of July grilling. There were several other toddlers there, all about Mark's age and LOTS and LOTS of toys. And of course, drums, including real ones. Check out the videos at the bottom of this post. </div><br /><div></div><div>We briefly went to the Fairgrounds to check out the taiko drums demonstration by <a href="http://www.triangletaiko.org/">Triangle Taiko</a>. Mark loved the hands-on part where all the kids were allowed to drum to their hearts' content. (Apparently Triangle Taiko has a program for toddlers - will check it out!) When we got to the performance, he watched for a bit, but there were too many people around making it hard for him to see and he was tired as well. So we went back home.</div><br /><div></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355166304828973650" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY1x1shHxF2sQuYLDAlfQCdGsm3U0XObKaPPvDuk0XuSuARjUpGSgPpdyiZ0cxxrR6ySvBm4uHoaKxwkV0OQIrPh5QtyPVjORbJH6H6Ky8jTm0MLt_60PRZeMf2ULmkA6TcMKP/s320/DSC05240.JPG" border="0" /> <div>Or rather, we went back to our friends' house for some fireworks. Now, I don't like fireworks of the kind that are set up in yards and driveways. Mark didn't like them much either. He actually got scared and started crying so I took him into the house and let him drum on big drums for about half an hour.</div><br /><div> </div></div></div></div><br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwF7sXpWjkP2Wf8ndrfjJyj2rnrKGnGTYl0sQIc-WrO6eehHeJ2wfsUcfHztSXmMifbXXYXrqncIV4' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe>Yelenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14694419115983802067noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14311323.post-53595609119128113232009-07-03T22:02:00.003-04:002009-07-03T23:19:30.482-04:00Our First First Friday<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZlscR0MTH1i14fqFVwkItP1Cc-oL-I-0-xXBjYnrDBYgCYO1QZJ2Pk2zhySOQiCLvlc5jqBqCT4HLOEq8eAlnYXDlHMiB-IM9hh-Ggv3RrRlGYYEDCBMN7Z8BOOZK5uITxV1m/s1600-h/DSC05199.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5354437222139630882" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZlscR0MTH1i14fqFVwkItP1Cc-oL-I-0-xXBjYnrDBYgCYO1QZJ2Pk2zhySOQiCLvlc5jqBqCT4HLOEq8eAlnYXDlHMiB-IM9hh-Ggv3RrRlGYYEDCBMN7Z8BOOZK5uITxV1m/s320/DSC05199.JPG" border="0" /></a>Finally, after almost 3 years of living in Raleigh we got around to going to the First Friday. <a href="http://www.godowntownraleigh.com/firstfriday/index.htm">First Friday </a>is a gallery walk in the downtown Raleigh that happens on the first Friday (doh!) of every month. The galleries stay open late and so do restaurants, cafes and some stores (and many offer special discounts just for this event).<br /><br />I don't know what took us so long. Just one thing after another. But today Chris had a day off and we finished with all the errands early. So we had two choices - to stay couped up in the house or to get out. We chose to get out. Conveniently, I had the First Friday brochure on my bulletin board (it's been there for the last 6 months). <div><div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5354437226638942898" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL2lVCc9kVXuwGrwLrCCjqR2aDLJB-Mf_iABvohg6UKYNtG8Lb9sgcr5T5TIp5KFxWnUf_BAueHyUrjgBBaM4bH68xzrZZa1iL96_1iq3KD6e1Br1BKwhbphEUgxPqhn2_AZAm/s320/DSC05196.JPG" border="0" /> <div></div><div>We promised Mark a ride on a bus (something totally new to him) and he agreed not to put up a fight and join us. We parked the car at the Seaboard Station (another place we have yet to check out) and boarded the Downtown Circulator bus. This bus is super-cool in its own way - it's hybrid, air-conditioned, and is absolutely free to ride. </div><div></div><br /><div>So we rode the circulator around much of the downtown and got off at the Moore Square stop. Of 22 downtown galleries that participate in First Friday, we decided to go to just one - the <a href="http://www.artspacenc.org/">Artspace</a>. Artspace is not really a gallery. It's a arts center that houses studios of several artists and hosts events and art classes. </div><div></div><br /><div>We were a bit worried about how Mark was going to behave since it was getting late and he was getting tired and cranky. Not to worry - there was <a href="http://www.tonymanmusic.com/home.html">live jazz music</a>! And what do you know, there were not one, but TWO drummers. Needless to say, Mark spent the next hour or so practically glued to the place alternating between sitting on the steps and standing in front of the drum sets.</div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5354437218039927922" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0QA1WVdLtBr2MjrDj97zDHM3OKX7GW4pu2E1HZ7Wq9vNzviamJXi5YyZFkUUakYAMK_g9j8RJTFMMMPrQMC9jgoYo4dv2ZJbWNWgxeDcSwkpzUT-ap4jGaeTml9JJOmP_3KVC/s320/DSC05197.JPG" border="0" /> <div></div><div>Which was perfect because Chris and I were able to take turns walking around the studios and admiring the artwork. Now, I don't know about Chris, but I don't have much experience with contemporary art. As someone who's been brought up on a diet of socialist realism with a sprinkling of classical art, I mostly don't "get it". So on rare occassions that I'm in NYC, I get to save $25 or so by skipping MoMA. </div><div></div><br /><div>Sometimes I get ashamed of such ignorance on my part. But then I think that individual works of art are like people - there are lots of them and most are strangers that I barely acknowledge. But sometimes things happen - something catches my attention or peaks my curiosity - and I end up talking to a few of the strangers (and even making friends) or suddenly understanding and appreciating a particular work of art.</div><br /><div></div><div>So it was absolutely wonderful that I've made not one, but two such discoveries at my very first First Friday. One was a clay Horsefly by <a href="http://www.patscull.com/">Pat Scull</a> - it kept me smiling even after I left Pat's studio.</div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5354437213075198162" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 242px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8CJEUzzRhKXwuSBhRGdKl6LQi2EvKx0H18B3BSW7RBqN_6HZGPlumBYSKUDLKnFqLZo9Zn-SAcZUxIO89VpZMP0pGLvEvlumm1AFNTLPNLrUoaV1zkAslvwOgbkaoGyzBcZ-B/s320/Horsefly.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div>And the second one (and I have to say my absolutely favorite discovery of the day) was a painting called "Red Doors" by <a href="http://www.mcraystudios.com/">Eric McRay</a> (see the top of this post). I even got to talk to Eric - about this particular painting and about his other works which represent a variety of styles.</div><div></div><br /><div>When I got back downstairs, Mark was still watching the drummer (Chris was watching Mark all this time). We spent a little bit more time listening to the smooth jazz and then it was way past Mark's bed time and we had to leave.</div></div></div></div>Yelenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14694419115983802067noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14311323.post-68413330209862636692009-06-27T21:16:00.005-04:002009-06-27T21:40:52.143-04:00Drum circle<div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-6XR_7rWZpZH1lXDilj6E6KLwofH5zMcFTEhTnxh53y6-I65kiy-YaiHg0qbACZ-vV2e6ECAgVzRr-kB7clMCWDXpeyeCxbCdBjHE51MZs578UJRP9uzZ4hN9rPEcEgyjMPIG/s1600-h/DSC05098.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352184421182559810" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-6XR_7rWZpZH1lXDilj6E6KLwofH5zMcFTEhTnxh53y6-I65kiy-YaiHg0qbACZ-vV2e6ECAgVzRr-kB7clMCWDXpeyeCxbCdBjHE51MZs578UJRP9uzZ4hN9rPEcEgyjMPIG/s320/DSC05098.JPG" border="0" /></a>Do you know how long Mark can drum non-stop? 2 hrs and 5 minutes! And the only reason he stopped (we were at the Durham Life & Science museum) was because he fell down and scraped his knee.<br /><div></div><br /><div>And that's on top of whatever drumming he does at home (although not so much now since he figured that his toy drum is not the real thing). And on top of watching a DVD called "Blast" (more drumming) daily. And on top of going to concerts on most Thursdays and Sundays.</div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352184425242794786" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYT2NFlNxM0VsnWzT6Pvp7AiVaLqg4ZeTkCKX2QhkrDrvZ951xfDTkpbemXuy7I6ZlsnLR3KFsLK5W2eYq3YMph5EIblxznakD93FYpfFmtJCg0Tdm_Nr4DULpn3lG37_J1MGK/s320/DSC05185.JPG" border="0" /> <div></div><div>So I found out about drum circles in the area. Fortunately, there's a drum circle meeting every Wednesday evening at a park not far away. Mark absolutely loved it even though he never cared for african drums before. </div><br /><div></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352184428354772770" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCRJ7xyDWVnfdIf-r9-qsL9CYAv_kRMOGQWVhk0tuFlNyttL-oJXL0hfKQ95wIG4tNxP5hoJtC04bHVhz8u5hlBvIEg6KiTQg27yU3YM-jtJfTqZBWaEBXmtvg2xblWw3jbSSi/s320/DSC05181.JPG" border="0" /> <div>Now, a drum circle is just that - a bunch of people of various ages and abilities drumming and/or trying to drum. Mark was the youngest, but that didn't bother him at all. Surprisingly, Chris tried drumming and got totally into it. He was really good too. I tried, but obviously Mark doesn't get his love of drumming from me :) Fortunately, they did have hoola-hoops.</div><div> </div></div></div><br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzryD0px0MBHZiBGUUM6A1zOjsn9rNibej3GDMcorIC0UMmgnQdC59kbTaEEXSWo0XRGPfXPFfP_IM' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe>Yelenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14694419115983802067noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14311323.post-47132609541690243362009-06-27T20:53:00.004-04:002009-06-27T21:11:45.393-04:00Father's Day Weekend - Surf and Turf<div><strong>Surf</strong> - Pine Knolls aquarium (Mark loves turtles and "big fish"), the beach (crowded and Mark didn't care to swim at all), and a dinner of fried seafood at Crabby Patty's on the way back (great shrimp po-boy). <div><div><div><div><div><div><br /><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352177528131886034" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbNA9bfuiCtwSqQGDM6dwykVuzDvjgSLamrFEQFuvk1Ah-r_g6j3wPPxXT12HRQ5gZbgzuc-geBsrdrXIB6o3rhP1toeHVt-Zddj0ycAcOc5FM05PoMwC8UGccScDUfIFpNstI/s320/DSC05115.JPG" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352177529235398370" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBOveo_on9RjdsV9w_nrmNnoBVFzXmcYIAeAcyrW5NGdyiyJhKEvaI8-_VBgZqWO1JT1RVMFUk47nWms77Pi6lU59QfFEi97z_A6-KiFJpbV-O9duBfu1vb2PU_1AaL6kdd544/s320/DSC05123.JPG" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352177535614520210" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgisTyFJncn97cntokGG6ILf5XGRIV86NmY6WT1gRIZVqBa0lZJcqVqMEUK_zFWtNAIHUTDg7k86vkfIZmb_-gzOsaDI0bLPaDcbRbTiYmyWXgfFImK6aH26zigNFao9zjBHFcg/s320/DSC05134.JPG" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352177546292169874" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8PqCBlJMS5ck7t0FjEj1MCqWJ94xPk0H0YrSmJKdH-e6P3gOrd7QYfYMjSa_m_MsniIx1UWHVOSgUQ82eLCkV51v0Fiu2cu8Obnvw7kutr5mOo34guMrhmQOREEFVGwUYqSrN/s320/DSC05148.JPG" border="0" /><br /><strong>Turf</strong> - a picnick at Duke Gardens, yummy watermelon, Mark rolling on the grass and playing chase with Chris.<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352179643683187330" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKRznh_fdo5SwKWoUFL7R3uYNdwRTlD23GsL8vhw8XbDOmhGNAMSKC47-ew_b0P78Pg3IF_LFpKWaxYALDeSNOZc5AC2eh49tvF6oMwYDM6JmCXjMQqj_tsnm0YUreTJED2sCo/s320/DSC05159.JPG" border="0" /></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352179637713125026" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR41xylLh9i9w1NkhVY4VbyA80KjalKG8FUHUhjDfjwBTm-wQJwFsQLIdlgqAocyT4FmglWNkUQu6tZZNXk4Rye1pPvBQNqOe3yystexBNTvkF4mCXD0V2umJsJ8wdEDpg45Jm/s320/DSC05158.JPG" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352179630085013394" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBKe15_EgvChpiwVz25qwHA0AtrzUJCs9gGobjZ7h-j14QzuajSWzrRmyoDugbeqVLi7Hgo_FyLp0y4DkYdAmztFMrdmx6zb0eXvuO_oiAk22IPSW5mNINTj7fdDOWOkLWg62S/s320/DSC05157.JPG" border="0" />Yelenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14694419115983802067noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14311323.post-40977729220027468802009-06-27T20:36:00.005-04:002009-06-27T20:49:14.161-04:00More of the MarblesYep, we go to the Marbles pretty much every week now. Usually Mark spends all his time playing with a train set and drumming. But I guess after a few weeks of that he got bored and decided to diversify. It turned out very well:<br /><div><div></div><br /><div>Here Mark is filing away. He really likes playing with the real instruments - a handsaw, a file and a screwdriver. The file is the most manageable of all, especially compared to the saw. So he pretends that a file is a saw.<br /><div><br /><br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352172113706380578" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFFFWPOIzb0PAm_1PVB2Gy7VvOgASf3FFx3JKqN-48Sz_EVyVX_ECVKtR_dn3CeEaR_V_uPsE8U_jBaKs4aME0gf3uf89h6MXSpsxhbiL9PX4LnZBfbpuwkiKOYwcC-LXK_XL-/s320/DSC05089.JPG" border="0" />Here Mark is building a tower of blocks. Now, this doesn't happen every day! But on this particular day there was a little boy of about 4 building some pretty sophisticated towers in the blocks area and Mark wanted to join him. So he ended up building a pretty impressive tower all by himself!<br /><br /><div></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352172121247723522" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1c6BixH7lx8C6RWD2oIEedDbKnrZk-iTj_0xK9Ui5gnI0orol2wFgG4m_8Fq6V5lr6HavX_X81kCIqwUx2M6YYX5I5lBgMe-hc1nhSiv8jLk09mCZl-SSAXrz6dFRqo6uAi4T/s320/DSC05092.JPG" border="0" /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352173492937555986" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0Fi06UdDxk6CKJNTzDHjF8yRVO9QyBvY0n-ndwUmAfSoHbTuCOWlg6f48kYW6xhlWdKn2j-w0sj0QV283M3cIUIl37PlXjvZQDl8kGSRXNghovcNJh5yv0P4OCta0VGl5ERwS/s320/DSC05093.JPG" border="0" />Finally, Mark's playing with water! Again, not something that happens every day. For now he doesn't even want to go to the pool any more. When asked what doesn't he like about the pool, Mark says "Water!". But last time at Marbles he played with the rubber duck and other toys and didn't complain at all after getting his T-shirt all wet.<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352172124615189682" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_BSmS-OXGeR-8KwnCXJ6WQr2uMzHVTL5eDrnJ921rndqXoLQJazh3tS_os6Ye4zLUf4F_hWfvf7saRXsMbo2tbaBpBN9-QW4X-1lI4iCnZFXKtpBdsgK38p8XB1gZNn8yGGPi/s320/DSC05114.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div></div></div></div>Yelenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14694419115983802067noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14311323.post-76851352639850571852009-06-27T20:04:00.004-04:002009-06-27T20:27:40.243-04:00New Hope Valley Railroad<div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOfsmv05l4lbsXh8DNRecnzQntGVAkgHpSszDcAiASEse5FyRydbm_DnIUxRoeAN9SFiH674ZbqUwg0JZDdLKhTZNCak-G6IG5CnpAM2Hz2znYxi-tMIY9i2vjgXKbnG5lSjGysg/s1600-h/DSC05074.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352167919302788306" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOfsmv05l4lbsXh8DNRecnzQntGVAkgHpSszDcAiASEse5FyRydbm_DnIUxRoeAN9SFiH674ZbqUwg0JZDdLKhTZNCak-G6IG5CnpAM2Hz2znYxi-tMIY9i2vjgXKbnG5lSjGysg/s320/DSC05074.JPG" border="0" /></a>A couple of weeks ago we went for a ride on a New Hope Valley Railroad. Apparently, all this time we were in the driving distance from a REAL railroad with REAL engines that one can tour. The place is not a replica, nor is it a scale model. As I said, it's a real railroad and everything is real. It only runs one weekend a month and is staffed by volunteers which is even better since they are just too happy to answer questions and show us around.<br /><div></div><br /><div>The ride lasts for about an hour - 30 mins there and 30 mins back. It's not fast and not especially scenic. Actually, I guess it can be quite boring unless you're into trains. The most exciting things along the line are </div><br /><div></div><br /><ul><li>The train blowing a whistle at each railroad crossing</li><li>The train going over a bridge that is so narrow that if you look straight down from the window, it appears as if the train floats on air. (I forgot the technical name of this kind of bridge)</li><li>The engine getting disconnected from the train at the mid-point and then backtracking and reconnecting to the train from the other end, so that it can pull the train back to the station.</li></ul><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352167930476115730" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpmsHiVmxqQFww_uYm9AIG4T50OUM2jQLRZh0h4qF4-Z9CUPwo9xtwiPtYvjWi4LukEI0PYqhsrNPMiewXezMiQxBhObEmtKNLaRr2_XBYZhONwz4sqDD1U5VKDO57X4ONeSwU/s320/DSC05069.JPG" border="0" /> <div></div><div>But if you're into trains like Mark is, there's a lot more excitement to be had - all the sounds and the rocking of the train car, a glimps of tracks through the floorboards and the swaying of the couplings between the cars. </div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352167925997581218" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXOwR7RaFfsB9kCd67lJm5ecYxvvleSkRd0qVen3JSAaCuyTua7R7IT5gCFs2j21NlvH-ESVNViQZo6aLMIHHyN8KZCld9r74QPKBkbUwHR9QH3cMovciKoXUN-ei4SrFXIWpQ/s320/DSC05081.JPG" border="0" /> <div></div><div>And after the train ride was over, there was a giant model railroad to check out, bluegrass music to listen to and a hotdog to munch on. In short, it was a great experience!</div><div></div></div></div>Yelenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14694419115983802067noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14311323.post-28838298931992355962009-06-06T21:18:00.004-04:002009-06-06T22:16:41.918-04:00A Day in Wytheville, VA<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0cU66jMBiytuC-vAQ4FeAEiO0lvFsXJWiFX9W3oN4Zn0vF7CyE-uJpdRvpw4CnAFn7cD74Q4_wJz7iqCH-GpSgIuUG9CVjd54o1j2uglX7HcwyaBu9kIMLCmK3zbeFWmgcV08Hw/s1600-h/DSC05054.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5344403233124673282" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0cU66jMBiytuC-vAQ4FeAEiO0lvFsXJWiFX9W3oN4Zn0vF7CyE-uJpdRvpw4CnAFn7cD74Q4_wJz7iqCH-GpSgIuUG9CVjd54o1j2uglX7HcwyaBu9kIMLCmK3zbeFWmgcV08Hw/s320/DSC05054.JPG" border="0" /></a>We had to drive to Wytheville, VA today to pick up Tim. It's about 3 hours from Raleigh. So I figured driving all the way there and all the way back, we might as well find something interesting to do there for a couple of hours. <div><div><div><br /><div></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5344403227161759826" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnx5msYhfzwJbFCMsw980hbyOVfK_E7IdDPlenunNGoVV-BFcUF7ZZgi1ynsx4bK0MYH6EnKsxaTKdodmKuUIEuff17PA0id3ON5KGCoUgTiaLxFuO202mnN99jLIjt7cEWgUuGA/s320/DSC05047.JPG" border="0" /> <div>The drive was pretty boring until we got to the mountains. The approach to Wytheville didn't look all that promising either - just more of the sprawl - gas stations, auto shops, Starbucks, etc. The historic downtown looked better and livelier with all the mom-and-pop shops. But we didn't stop to admire the downtown.</div><br /><div></div><div>Instead, we drove through the town and out into the mountains... off the road and through the ruts... then steep left... a few more miles down a narrow gravel road... and we finally got to our destination - <a href="http://www.beagleridgeherbfarm.com/">Beagle Ridge Herb Farm</a>.</div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5344403220965553938" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOKDhC9WnO2DTVr-0RKgsXWI_-k68paIFuOxAU3WX18kdFwYK75cdn8_Mh-Pu60w0nufEHT0QVmS6TNH7KgymPix1pwUlZ3W5k_M8faIA7MOrriw4ye2MPlVWpv-6_B1qOC-878g/s320/DSC05032.JPG" border="0" /> <div></div><div>We had a little tour of the farm and its herb gardens and then had a picnic (yeah, we're really on a roll with the whole picnic thing). If we had more time (and were properly dressed), we might have went on a hike along one of the many trails. But by then Mark was pretty tired and it was too hot anyway. </div><br /><div></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5344403224900006146" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLLPCgcuQHJOKhrI6LEDmYVr63zrNmDhi4Ex1eQ-RDv5aQiLRagLpN7A7otLiyW8ZgX-vKUTTbJ6e4EhiFPX-axHh75EiIHqDIxUI5aH2ksEmCRR0MHrtBTkVuXvtRQQZEOjYb7g/s320/DSC05043.JPG" border="0" /> <div>So we got back on the road and drove a few more miles back into the town and onto the highway... off the main road... past some cows... then steep left (what's up with steep left turns in Wytheville anyway) and to the <a href="http://www.pleasanthillfarm.com/">Pleasant Hill Farm</a> - a pick-your-own flowers farm. </div><div></div><br /><div>We spent over an hour there picking flowers and just walking around, admiring the views and the little baby duck and the white pigeons. Mark absolutely loved the place and kept running around it, smelling flowers and acting silly.</div><br /><div></div><div></div><div></div><div> </div></div></div></div>Yelenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14694419115983802067noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14311323.post-17958175819264725362009-06-05T21:58:00.003-04:002009-06-05T22:23:29.712-04:00Funny Stuff Mark's Been Saying Lately<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv9uEYt5dAlgg9xZa19_9Bduaq9rPilW9xD0-s0QXH2cA5dF27lrW3VXw3gpAvUY8KUgyHlBxpBygCv5ELGdVb8gGUmdSE7Z7oQKKP6xniYY9z_qJKviGxn6zsYGLiuWJC07ZrDg/s1600-h/DSC05026.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5344032873460433266" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv9uEYt5dAlgg9xZa19_9Bduaq9rPilW9xD0-s0QXH2cA5dF27lrW3VXw3gpAvUY8KUgyHlBxpBygCv5ELGdVb8gGUmdSE7Z7oQKKP6xniYY9z_qJKviGxn6zsYGLiuWJC07ZrDg/s320/DSC05026.JPG" border="0" /></a>Mark is very talkative. Actually, he pretty much doesn't stay quiet unless he's asleep. Well, when we're out and about he's pretty quiet too, until he gets comfortable around new people.<br /><div></div><br /><div>He speaks both Russian and English equally well. It's really pretty amazing to hear him switching from one language to another effortlessly and without giving it a second thought. He speaks Russian to me and English to Chris. If he hears me speaking English to people, he speaks English to them as well. When I speak Russian to people, he speaks Russian to them too. </div><br /><div></div><div>Sometimes he tries speaking English to me, but I always reply in Russian and sometimes even ask him to translate for me 'cause "mama doesn't understand English all that well". It works too! The other day all three of us were in the car and I said something to Mark in Russian. He immediately repeated it in English for his Dad.</div><div></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5344032876422029858" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj02xzVZT6p81IqGDUMLGEsTzdtmyblPjq1sg2Nl_La8ndNVB2SeqwNR8VvMXRmOvLaFrZxCsYawwb4I1qh5sHvMgEJHN8ai4v2uKfsECRBH1vbdPkhzEJ-rXfebjXzWVXjRuB7gw/s320/DSC04929.JPG" border="0" /> <div>Today we went to watch a train go by (something we do fairly regularly). While waiting for the train, Mark said <em>"I wait for train every day! I want to wait for train every day!"/ Я ждать поезд каждый день! Я хочу ждать поезд каждый день!</em></div><div></div><br /><div>A little while later, still with his "every day" theme he shared his ideal daily schedule with me: <em>"I want тортик every day AND concert every day AND wait for train every day AND play with Sasha every day" (Sasha is a boy from Mark's daycare). / Я хочу тортик каждый день И концерт каждый день И ждать паровозик каждый день И играть с Саша каждый день.</em></div><br /><div></div><div>On new - real - drumsticks: "<em>Grandpa gifted Mark drumsticks"/Деда подарил палки Марку.</em></div><br /><div></div><div>On a little bouncy ball he borrowed from his girl friend some weeks ago and re-discovered today: <em>"This little big ball Maeli gifted to Mark" / Этот большой маленький мяч Майли подарила Марку.</em></div><div></div><br /><div>A small mosquito bite on Mark's leg gets this commentary: <em>"It's bruise... No, no bruise... It's bite... Small mosquito bit Mark... Not very good mosquito." / Это синяк... Нет, нет синяк... Это укус... Комарик укусил Марка... Не очень хороший комарик.</em></div><br /><div></div><div>Mark loves pretend cooking, only prefers real ingredients. His favorite dish for now - cake and muffins. So he goes <em>"I want one egg and two cups... want make muffin for Emi" (Emily is another one of his friends). / Я хочу один яйцо и де чашки... хочу печь кекс Эми.</em></div><br /><div></div><div>But the top prize goes to his statement on the pleasures of drumming (and he drums every day): <em>"This is good day for drumming! Very good day for drumming!" / Хороший день барабанить! Очень хороший день барабанить!</em></div></div>Yelenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14694419115983802067noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14311323.post-28256540884270762352009-05-31T21:52:00.004-04:002009-05-31T22:18:26.228-04:00Another Weekend, Another Farm - Smith's Nursery<div><div><div><div><div><div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinpppZieHqxBl32wOCoBm0pJSHGK5Vy3b8K9e3gbKxvSw2hvPEqw2VGKkOysM2geHIuvVKXdSUJ1hodEsrr7LfvtBhecDSti-GrwQxBO6yu0-vqXz05tFhfEeTl_kI22pmFzxSfQ/s1600-h/DSC04979.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342175798645169122" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinpppZieHqxBl32wOCoBm0pJSHGK5Vy3b8K9e3gbKxvSw2hvPEqw2VGKkOysM2geHIuvVKXdSUJ1hodEsrr7LfvtBhecDSti-GrwQxBO6yu0-vqXz05tFhfEeTl_kI22pmFzxSfQ/s320/DSC04979.JPG" border="0" /></a>I love pick-your-own farms! They aren't much cheaper than buying the same stuff at the Farmer's Market, but they sure are so much more fun. We went to Hunt's Farm in Raleigh a couple of times this year to pick strawberries. It's a nice place and quite close to us. But Hunt's strawberry season is over for now. And since they don't have any other pick-your-own fruits or veggies, we'll have to wait until next year.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342175803858624466" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHmrknnxuCrHTLx7ZMFXHxK7uILLn8E3l_s7HF7ZSlKs5Xs9nB8sARE14xfW9bxq1_xYw2zaE0d0ohGXGf6EWSybB6sWTwXyRlmaShBahnJt2qKzusONWPFiu8cTHi42dcsu3tWA/s320/DSC04983.JPG" border="0" />Fortunately, there are tons of farms within a short drive from us. Chris's co-worker went to the one in Benson last week and picked not just strawberries, but blueberries as well. Now, that sounded really cool since I've never picked blueberries before.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342175815845301282" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaJFX0gA3tc3lH5MHSPpogpybu6FQKIRuP_GGSMAyEkmlo0UOtmn0KHKGO8BxuloRTqe0aav9DJaUUM9HKcqeJyktTvW-tDJhNTezZk_R3JBaj2e0SQcipLcTHT8U5krn7rxecPA/s320/DSC04992.JPG" border="0" />So this weekend we all piled into Mom's car (tight fit, but it worked) and drove for half an hour to Benson to Smith's Nursery. Ok, the place is totally awesome! I'm absolutely in love with it right now. The strawberries were practically over (this was, in fact, the last weekend for strawberry picking). Still, there were so many huge beautiful berries on the field that, all the pickers nonwithstanding, there were still lots of berries left for the bird and bugs to enjoy.<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342175818897917170" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz7O31eJ1FYytwcRiknL-nxMLEcOlBv7zSA1I7m6p5_QUVHPfpDhn5vk2OIQ9i3IkL1pbodO0txIRW4ynP8VEQ9s7gO7MCnVGh4_JfDwtJXy1YvA67s_MKEbM9b8EIjDZgjphlyQ/s320/DSC04994.JPG" border="0" />After picking two bucket-fulls of strawberries we took a short break at one of the carp ponds (see our calloused and berry-juice-stained hands?). <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342176966286849314" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOCqA_JFgNUN52eFtlJR5vFNDAch0poZJYPF3flvQQ0ZMdZicBna-V301bqW1_F-VcBSWOkmz_7-ljRsCBsC0ApNPULd7yyklPUd4oSjHvLM-8CqvFEe3ySRF50kOw3Vqq15GINA/s320/DSC04974.JPG" border="0" />And then we got another bucket for blueberries. Now, the blueberry patch is a bit of a hike - about a quarter mile down the dirt road. But it's nice because first you pass by all the nursery plants and then - through a little woodsy patch (we even so a fox there!).<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342176971506531682" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDY4GBin4OsDKGiihyphenhyphenFjv6viv_fHoWMu2p_P3GDDtIhlfhv8ahyphenhyphendyRkn45Mc2-JVcPCuNlDSXaJJa7kebLEXzrRsT_ONp21OTkpwlwpDWE0q4R4rW3UbGfZyp5nMlo0w5CsMf9rw/s320/DSC04990.JPG" border="0" /> <div></div><div>The blueberry patch was pretty small, but it really didn't matter at all. There were just so many berries that we all stayed around the first 3-4 bushes and gathered a whole bucket in about 20 minutes. Yummy!</div><br /><div></div><div>Here's a picture of all the berries we picked that day.<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342176975731497570" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIGrafWxPde9m1c4D0j8ISDJDckU-1Vlx2uBE-froPWi3Ri2TuRFrf8Ara-Xc1zyRrShUGveYbPw5Oj5mksr_-cMJch2Rr_p-ZYYjzR3azlh80ChN68E95NYG0JJLf0sKkncGeOA/s320/DSC04998.JPG" border="0" /></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Yelenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14694419115983802067noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14311323.post-49262774539623658632009-05-31T21:20:00.003-04:002009-05-31T21:50:44.017-04:00Memorial Day Weekend 09<div><br /><div><div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieIUtS6mB4GC6I3QlB-h2XkmIDk2gblB6JuKHQMBDcJA4PhcMKfxiJ4PcanEtee5RKNKy_IxC-47nK2FahPvucDiuf4VDbKJU9NyZJs5TMH7hRctUW_qIVP9KVvpKgy5kth-ndUg/s1600-h/DSC04913.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342169924891175634" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieIUtS6mB4GC6I3QlB-h2XkmIDk2gblB6JuKHQMBDcJA4PhcMKfxiJ4PcanEtee5RKNKy_IxC-47nK2FahPvucDiuf4VDbKJU9NyZJs5TMH7hRctUW_qIVP9KVvpKgy5kth-ndUg/s320/DSC04913.JPG" border="0" /></a>Hooray, we finally had a real picnic! We've been planning to have one at the Museum Park (by NC Museum of Arts) for at least a year. It was great - we brought some sandwiches with us and OJ and strawberries and we picked a few mulberries from the nearby mulberry trees. Mark loved the idea of sitting down on the ground and eating. He also really liked that he could, no - was encouraged to - take frequent breaks to run around and roll in the grass.<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342169934527744834" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif7e_nX-sn6vVwWrAEmEwJlpbRCv0QBIMkwZDUaHS01HcCXwbG1fiz8VYO6mFbO_B1xQjrOr0V-Tvxk_rDGs4QrwzFZk0Wt72yjjTyfRK4ZHPjzedXensQIoAAWzfbYVV5sdcVdg/s320/DSC04914.JPG" border="0" /> <div></div><div>Just as we finished our little picnic the rain started. But by then we were almost at the car. What a great timing, we laughed to ourselves. Hmm, except the rain had the final laught, of course. Later in the day (or was it the next day?) we went on a bike ride. Again, it was something we've talked about forever. So anyway, we went on a bike ride, but got cought in a pretty strong downpour half-way through. </div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342169941769514146" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5EIMQlWdsYQOjoEHgii8Hbx6jmR5GsyyLCHRi26qDt8F3ePKdveIw41167JkcKmt-YGZhKePC5sS6uBA9Bj3GQ5-WBK69ZT-OBP8cx2cDCMh5ZPYhv4Nv5_od7oF_mTEYQmrDyg/s320/DSC04942.JPG" border="0" /> <div></div><div>Mark loves bike rides, but hates wearing a helmet. That's what he says, "No helmet!". And when, after much struggling, it's on his head, he cries "I'm stuck!". So we just have to get on with the bike ride. Mark's bike seat is on the back of my bike. And all through the ride I hear Mark complaining, first - about the helmet; then - about me sitting on my bike seat. So I start going real fast and then he gets all excited and just smiles.</div><div></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342169937299527138" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFmrHL1TPkcAN5uecqht-HnIkgbcLl2ozVdU4z02rpdHU770Dnbhbgd_o_QFg3MchYo2mp3hxD-3IhRZhoxm1qvGXt14RpRusCX4l5lBSRRg_4kdB0msta3gVIOhGyuBGNWXShpw/s320/DSC04941.JPG" border="0" /> <div>Anyway, here are two more pictures - Mark with a pony (not a real one) and Mark at a BBQ playdate with his friends. <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342169946991119282" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgZsWp_m4CusiQwUaj4OBI7XHEUQtj6P3A8ZtFuLcCLdfRdCbcNvpc2fCKC8IVx0s_Tnf-YrLx83ksq5uaKrCOwuq5sLVDDnlA_g5cz3wyke1reK1h5vmiIlmFI7ZUzwg3GcNdTQ/s320/DSC04947.JPG" border="0" /></div></div></div></div></div>Yelenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14694419115983802067noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14311323.post-83795854223149325962009-05-23T21:05:00.005-04:002009-05-23T22:39:53.880-04:00Picking Strawberries at Hunt's Farm<div><div><div><div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxToK0WPj-wtMfzWsxhOVefXZu_Slz1pJT3Ctu2Pikliib0YIKUUk4SpJk3JG1xepw_QycS1Wiz1wpjQoPJhnPMPUs8fA-nkng_njHICo56NkykmRy2OKfVKdXwdsJkEvBiVcrRQ/s1600-h/DSC04838.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339196319342555986" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxToK0WPj-wtMfzWsxhOVefXZu_Slz1pJT3Ctu2Pikliib0YIKUUk4SpJk3JG1xepw_QycS1Wiz1wpjQoPJhnPMPUs8fA-nkng_njHICo56NkykmRy2OKfVKdXwdsJkEvBiVcrRQ/s320/DSC04838.JPG" border="0" /></a> Last year we went to Hunt's Farm only once, at the end of the strawberry season. This year, we went 3 or 4 times. Which means we either have nothing else to do or the place absolutely rocks.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339196332376607170" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIkfAT8LL_HXqqYl_xzmAzo7r50GIDWHgcKAiKn0hLx6Q5wPl5RDqhyG7Qt-oaK_wCUijEn6uwGhyphenhyphenMRSjgsH7XgjgxHjCeFeHGhGW6csZWrCatoQUVtPBV2-SXAWi0vIMNzxXK9Q/s320/DSC04889.JPG" border="0" /> <div></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339196320971331730" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwqMaeqz-7Pj0KZ8XdKbmh6ezyJQkv_6ZQcq-qbCCuzbHzFX9Kmx301wJrHMvh0qMrrmWvGIOul41OezEtUoX5Bl3C2GLBKdZLFAIompv8FzxbElgw8mu5Lr23gkCDQ_HqhL6H_A/s320/DSC04842.JPG" border="0" /> <div>I'll spare you the guess work - the place rocks! Go there early in the season (I think the first time we went this year was at the end of April). And go during the week, if you can. The entire field will be yours for picking. </div><div></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339196326805645234" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjqiIJ__AvfdGxT8FMiugpc29xnjnrDzL5S5CvJ_PT62hBEK3Y2EZ6YKqnJWxSh7K_kH-5IYL8a75DyHt5nDhV_TsqlOLt5dn5YGNgjy-K1uo8zmpZQ8WCVunvH5CJCpT8VoQR9Q/s320/DSC04852.JPG" border="0" /> <div>Rows and rows of delicious strawberries smelling so sweet in the hot sun. Kids eat them non-stop, but even the adults stuff their faces. Mark knows, in principle, to only pick red berries. But in practice, he just can't resist. Although he is getting better with each new trip.</div><div></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339196336527582354" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpXGQyE6Ior5UwKjwLXyBwm9ijhO_qIHz3_uV6oXNUaqJUbzAgH0eHZihQhnAxio2y7srJl5q3JHsHYDyuT2Tw-PD8JUrMjxz9ghVDUl4I4jgS0Z0ds1S6idykz5scTXsj0nNy3g/s320/DSC04892.JPG" border="0" /> <div>And as we pick strawberries, Mark notices all sorts of things - birds flying high in the sky (мама, пица летит), chickens making their chicken noises (мама, пету), other kids (мама, мальчики собают кубику). Unfortunately, he doesn't want to go too far from "the house" - the little red barn that serves as a check-out point. </div><div></div><br /><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339196701464310610" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYBpg2igYRQUZAGkkBRHxN11H8_sO_lGTO39pJ2OXuM5VvvS4r6z6YsL6PgsAz07XBkkdNeEmWFowlmik5f7ww-I9JVpI8zw2kv8lhsV_NsGlVygntIEgTvFHfbwDPXzXr-HDpGQ/s320/DSC04896.JPG" border="0" />But who can blame him - they have awesome buckets there - round like drums and with big strawberries printed on them. And there is plenty of level ground to run around and be goofy. And there are dogs that have to be petted (мама, очень хороший собака). Finally, there's a little grove of pine trees with lots of pine cones and even frogs.</div><div> </div></div></div></div></div></div><br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dz9kuoJJbUTBLLxJuCK628-EqaPPCBfXTBNn_53bwX-G66emC1ORrNSRzP8IPMDxKqSbLKoNkR95Bo' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe>Yelenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14694419115983802067noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14311323.post-44918643243299315192009-05-23T20:36:00.003-04:002009-05-23T21:04:48.372-04:00Homeschooling - Dinosaur Week<div><div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf58wOcUApTtmFqzdk9M6MxPnRtc1mVcFhuDUXNG91xVAilebZxhNG_9FoHma_892LGPU6EVwEJJETISFG9G0UbcYXWa7IaX-PF9gpu7S7HfkYozbEj0M2L0HibOAa4HupjsW0Rg/s1600-h/DSC04821.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339189409142041378" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf58wOcUApTtmFqzdk9M6MxPnRtc1mVcFhuDUXNG91xVAilebZxhNG_9FoHma_892LGPU6EVwEJJETISFG9G0UbcYXWa7IaX-PF9gpu7S7HfkYozbEj0M2L0HibOAa4HupjsW0Rg/s320/DSC04821.JPG" border="0" /></a>Mark goes to an at-home day-care once a week for 4 hours. He loves it because he gets to play with older boys (and boy do they have A LOT of fun toys!). I love it because everyone in this daycare - the teacher and all the kids - speak Russian. The teacher loves it because Mark behaves very well there. And the other two boys love it because Mark doesn't get in there way too much, plus he openly admires them (and who can resist that!).<br /><div></div><br /><div>At this daycare, kids mostly do a lot of free play. It's not structured at all, which is great. But usually they do some small art or crafts project and go for a walk in the nearby park. The teacher tries to introduce numbers, letters, shapes, etc. through each game and I think it works. Mark has learned a lot of words there.</div><br /><div></div><div>The rest of the time it's just me and Mark. Again, usually our days are pretty unstructured. We drive Chris to work and stop by to watch the daily Amtrak train on the way back. We go to the Marbles museum, to different parks and playgrounds, feed ducks, pick strawberries, play in the yard, watch cartoons, read, ride a toy train and a carousel at Pullen Park, and cook and do other stuff around the house.</div><div></div><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXOpV-SAT5m1uMDaF2tc1KfW9-UdIyE9sbcnzuTwn8rUJuyyqnPUciFNW2l3gcQ-HnsJBqb9HxxcD11ozggn_RERsRodB3quHodw5t4ECiNVV49C0FADgawQqn6k4xsJVjL_Lpgw/s1600-h/DSC04910.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339189411746353858" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXOpV-SAT5m1uMDaF2tc1KfW9-UdIyE9sbcnzuTwn8rUJuyyqnPUciFNW2l3gcQ-HnsJBqb9HxxcD11ozggn_RERsRodB3quHodw5t4ECiNVV49C0FADgawQqn6k4xsJVjL_Lpgw/s320/DSC04910.JPG" border="0" /></a>Then one day I decided that it'd be nice to introduce a bit more structure and learning into our daily schedule. So I figured, what's better way to kick off our homeschooling than to have a dinosaur week! Yeah, for now I'm really thinking about homeschooling at least through the elementary school.</div><br /><div></div><div>So I've made lots and lots of different little games centered around the dinosaur theme. And I got some colorful dino books at the library. Unfortunately, Mark decided to renew his interest in trains that same week. Instead of being into dinosaurs (per my plan), he was and still is into drumming and trains (per his plan). </div><div></div><br /><br /><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div>We still managed to learn a few new things:</div><div></div><br /><div>1. New color - purple (and no, we didn't watch Barney at all). So now Mark knows all his basic colors - black, white, red, green, yellow, blue, orange, purple and can name all of them.</div><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixYZ0P6IOpNkGmmuMU8zGTr9f3rV_GNWuc00yfLN8app_Bcqh9C4_Z5WST91wJqCUUyIUEA8nfV-A5wuwhtyXCWs4dtIvh5cJBFo2XeEIACT4EMRSja5z261nAlqkVUdcQBOyzpw/s1600-h/DSC04911.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339189418343712066" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixYZ0P6IOpNkGmmuMU8zGTr9f3rV_GNWuc00yfLN8app_Bcqh9C4_Z5WST91wJqCUUyIUEA8nfV-A5wuwhtyXCWs4dtIvh5cJBFo2XeEIACT4EMRSja5z261nAlqkVUdcQBOyzpw/s320/DSC04911.JPG" border="0" /></a>2. New word - dinosaur (ok, Mark can't say it quite right yet; he says "Divanos")</div><br /><div>3. New letter - Д for dinosaur</div><br /><div>4. A couple more words - volcano, lava</div><br /><div>5. Food sorting into "fruits and veggies" and "meats" (when we fed dinosaurs)</div><br /><div>6. Dividing and sharing - when Mark was dividing a hot dog and orange into pieces to feed each one of the 4 toy dinosaurs</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Sure, that's not much for 2 weeks of dinosaur stuff (ok, my one week stretched into two). But again, we spent maybe 5-10 minutes a day talking about dinosaurs and playing dino-themed games. And some days we didn't bother with dinos at all.</div><div></div><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcbiE6Xc14vuV903eHz-1oLh8ZNW3VGsIuTH7cnHwtdEyalZcuIVk5HPi85UlYJCzab6eO0cdQKYpB-uOFI9O8X3TiqNDxHgX76nJNZ2JQ0psYggCdN74b0u3mHWUk3K3llH5GFg/s1600-h/DSC04909.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339189421658761442" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcbiE6Xc14vuV903eHz-1oLh8ZNW3VGsIuTH7cnHwtdEyalZcuIVk5HPi85UlYJCzab6eO0cdQKYpB-uOFI9O8X3TiqNDxHgX76nJNZ2JQ0psYggCdN74b0u3mHWUk3K3llH5GFg/s320/DSC04909.JPG" border="0" /></a>And check out this really cool dino set I made out of an empty Tide box, some construction paper, tissue paper, an empty yogurt container, plastic plants, a piece of old carpet, a few rocks and a couple of toy dinosaurs. Can't you tell I'm really proud of it?! LOL</div><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div></div></div></div>Yelenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14694419115983802067noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14311323.post-62405391590678259412009-05-23T19:37:00.005-04:002009-05-23T20:36:35.291-04:00Marbles Rocks!<div><div><div>What would I do without Marbles? And why are they closed on Mondays anyway?! Marbles is the Children's Museum here, in Raleigh. And we go there A LOT. As a matter of fact, not a week goes by without us stopping by for an hour or so. </div><div></div><br /><div>Thankfully, back in the fat times, we got the family membership so now we only pay for parking. And sometimes we don't pay for parking either, when the parking meter machine in the museum's parking lot is broken (which's been happening a lot lately). Of course, other times we pay way too much, like the other day when I got a $20 ticket for parking 6 inches too far from the curb. So unfair!</div><div></div><br /><div>Anyway, back to the Marbles. Mark loves the place. He always asks me to go to the "zemey" (he can't or won't say музей). We already have a routine worked out. First, we go upstairs to play the drums. Here are the two phrases Mark now says very well:</div><div></div><br /><div align="center"><strong>Марк банит как дяди!</strong> <em>(he also watches a video of a drum line at the Carnival in Rio)</em></div><br /><div align="center"><strong>Бабаны забили!</strong> <em>(this is actually a line from an audio-book he listens to)</em></div><br /><div></div><p><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzwP5yav6BOuHugLtvE8lhLdJ97VYluuEsw3CCpuh94VeujnIrYwZTgJJP3iqSPpGNjwCkOU9uZMsg' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></p><p>After he's done with drums, we quickly stop by the little Moroccan marketplace corner where Mark serves us some pretend tea. Then we're about leave, but not without watching some German pop videos. His favorite is <a href="http://www.kovideo.net/lyrics/f/Fettes-Brot/English-Emanuela.html">Emanuela</a>, because the <a href="http://www.myvideo.de/watch/224654/Fettes_Brot_Emanuela">video</a> shows a marching band.</p><p>Then we move to the racing cars. At first Mark used to just watch other kids racing. But lately he wants me to build a car for him. Then he races it downt he track and excitedly toddles along.</p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339177504794591986" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE7SND8j_GKejZ8OSAtNIEOiu92IwPpUnIQPnOOCilgRIzyyBd8aQN9wg1fSl94QvkGGuyjURgXaKj5zy3hQNSBk8Hecun9rNgPqf20Rzf_HonFrgAqcIeD0xrtWge3HZYhLoCiw/s320/DSC04819.JPG" border="0" />Then I usually make a paper airplane for Mark to launch from the balcony and we move on to a workbench. Now, workbenches at Marbles have real tools - screwdrivers, hand-drills, hand-saws... Mark tried the saw the other day, but didn't like that once the a piece of wood was sawed off, there would be not way to stick it back on. So he prefers screwdriver and screws (which, by the way, are available by the bucket).<br /><br /><br /><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCSyWqv59dc1E8RaH5bSxuuUsWVbPKvyeykrhOZ78HZnPEoD1hsOdHG4DNcnnk0-H54_J6Whqjcr1QWWMh2XfhgKPhylrH5oPmTIUEVDbyQpsItMeQdFaBihZuwk7we5crN5Moxg/s1600-h/DSC04817.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339182165816047250" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCSyWqv59dc1E8RaH5bSxuuUsWVbPKvyeykrhOZ78HZnPEoD1hsOdHG4DNcnnk0-H54_J6Whqjcr1QWWMh2XfhgKPhylrH5oPmTIUEVDbyQpsItMeQdFaBihZuwk7we5crN5Moxg/s200/DSC04817.JPG" border="0" /></a>Then we go to the fitness exhibit. At first Mark used to go through a little obstacle course. Then he moved on to throwing plastic balls into the ball pit (but he never wants to get into the ball pit). Later he was into throwing plastic play foods into big buckets. And then finally he discovered the hockey rink. The rink is actually all plastic and the kids take shoes off before going in and slide or walk across in their socks. </p><br /><br /><br /><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8csAS4ykR3FNZKhyYKImjVFxnQgNqCvZXiGtC_vft6TgXbIkdWhNCXyXWWga_NZFiejSj9WhwdtmpqieY1kSZOoa8bVFhpN0_TaPuAC70y1UvZCvpiQPhQyY2JPuReirYcP44MQ/s1600-h/DSC04816.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339182161425000866" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8csAS4ykR3FNZKhyYKImjVFxnQgNqCvZXiGtC_vft6TgXbIkdWhNCXyXWWga_NZFiejSj9WhwdtmpqieY1kSZOoa8bVFhpN0_TaPuAC70y1UvZCvpiQPhQyY2JPuReirYcP44MQ/s200/DSC04816.JPG" border="0" /></a>Usually there are about 20 boys ages 4-7 wielding small hockey sticks in the rink (and the rink is probably 15 by 30 feet). Obviously, it's a very hectic place and is absolutely irresistible to Mark. He gets the smallest stick and walks around grinning widely and miraculously avoiding all the sticks and pucks. And obviously, it's impossible to hoax him out of this rink. The only way to get him to get out is to ... well... get in there, grab Mark, and drag him out. I try to stay away from the rink for now.</p><br /><p>After exhausting our options upstairs, we move downstairs to play with Thomas the Train sets at a giant train table. Occassionally Mark also goes to the pirate ship. And he always makes his way to the pretend kitchen and the grocery store. He used to cook kasha, but now expanded his repertoir and offers soups, muffins, torts, pasta, egg, hot dog, pancake, or kasha.</p></div></div>Yelenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14694419115983802067noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14311323.post-12307789780785643612009-04-25T23:15:00.002-04:002009-04-26T00:12:11.861-04:00Dad's 65th Birthday<div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328835526751828850" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY9G6EmILU5QLbqTZ9v0txtYMIzGHHNb1FXzAG6u5Xou1hrACTwa6-v-K6z8C2B0EzlaBRYPXgsTzyK1mk7Ju68W0tBsC2-SypKsWxzcxn7tdJ8Wsx1BcGTMJaBC-CI7_nOMUF_Q/s320/DSC04759.JPG" border="0" />We're back from NY. It's been a very short trip this time, just there and back. We left on a Thursday evening, after Chris's work, planning on stopping for the night in Fredericksburg, VA. Unfortunately, we didn't get to the hotel until after 9pm totally exhausted.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>But we were able to get back on the road first thing in the morning (ok, almost first thing since we had to stop at a grocery store for breakfast). Anyway, we got to NY fairly early in the afternoon after a little detour to pick up Arkadik.</div><br /><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328835523599150034" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt57BQkf7_kM33ZoJUV-25qb9V7Pt57WAP26Fpe8eS6LPyBdbVaBjSB6xm5AafY6eMd_yo-PLLOwb2Fk2FpcNnvyqaV8L1AIQVQ-AvEsI_19d3pcYDgZC54C-DqO-eSB9E2L_Npw/s320/DSC04742.JPG" border="0" /></div><br /><div>Mark was so excited to see his grandparents! He loved being around them so much that when Chris and I took him to a park, he kept asking to go back home to be with Deda and Baba. </div><br /><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328835543732260450" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5kRz-eVYRmVK5mJfOWG-WgejuQ7U_9yBdsVzZhOep0n2VpWOzR1vqUgRRUaLUfJf6hC142pkr93bEWU6M_-H_h6iteVXuM1GVAeIhxs96maVylUcoPY73uGgmPuIn5Lz4yV9-Zw/s320/DSC04786.JPG" border="0" /></div><br /><div>And the next day it was Dad's big birthday party. It was honestly the nicest birthday party I've been to in years. It was just the immediate family (ok, most of the family). Mom cooked lots of food, as usual. The weather was warm and sunny and we all just sat on the deck and ate and talked. Then Mark and his 4-year-old cousin Alisa went inside to play with playdough. </div><br /><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328835535738650050" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJcM-8jx9ltW6l11YAwfyzKKxga_lGI8FTMbaZRkm6U4_Mcjn-Xr5aOqGcX9Y4NhhWbpe4PHuzc4xAFRCZPhsVV2143BAQmMzUDKbd1lGZiB9tLALUxz36LTgCbbtDSl-HjMaHYA/s320/DSC04778.JPG" border="0" /></div><br /><div>Unfortunately, we had to leave on Sunday early in the afternoon. We didn't want to drive 9 hours straight. That would've been too much for Mark (and for us). So we stopped half-way, in DC area. </div><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmsOKdDlrCVpfqVZt4HcF76jkE7jJZdImZWsnXiU5QEC56XyO6owpWHCC3iuB-X3YXnVgimqD8VwGSocmDz3mw2b4xVdsOqKLQ2qFYI6MfKb8QBTn-MFHc78UF6oZ2G9gWXGV_KQ/s1600-h/DSC04795.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328835538339369650" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmsOKdDlrCVpfqVZt4HcF76jkE7jJZdImZWsnXiU5QEC56XyO6owpWHCC3iuB-X3YXnVgimqD8VwGSocmDz3mw2b4xVdsOqKLQ2qFYI6MfKb8QBTn-MFHc78UF6oZ2G9gWXGV_KQ/s320/DSC04795.JPG" border="0" /></a> <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328848030790975426" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5JtU2QFKkeCo-d8mhpwg0VaANi38zQQQblrU2MjUGD70uwqypnzDgTmOG8V4VNO4Lj3ZbtXzZmVisboIYnhxVe-S0fXv9gSlsNTbqCHjTq9KJ0iyImd5MgdIvKOIQOsDvoDeyTw/s320/DSC04794.JPG" border="0" /></div>Yelenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14694419115983802067noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14311323.post-40167188194508585152009-04-02T23:20:00.005-04:002009-04-03T00:03:41.698-04:00Evolution of Drumming (или Барабан Страдивари)Forget Thomas and the rest of the trains (although Neville is still loved). The new obsession is drumming. We now play "boom-boom music" in the car, read "boom-boom books", look at pictures of drums and watch "boom-boom" video from Я Все Могу (actually called До-Ре-Ми, but who cares, right? It's like 20 minutes long and has exactly 5 seconds of drumming in it - Mark watches it almost every day). Also, he watches a cartoon Бим, Бам, Бом и Волк, 'cause the piglets' names sound like drumming sounds.<br /><br />First, things were very simple - mandatory participation in the drum circles by each family member (except Xander), simple rythm (ok, total absence of).<br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dz972YlDZis1JhzaUJBGo-sCm-XPSyD5bl_h6LSdAzOg-3thgDsXRSFf31Po0OSZotLao8PFNKyJ2Y' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br /><br />Then things got a bit more complicated with multiple drums and complex composition.<br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxoLPp7YF-dg0sfJXADOHuA68RwKo9rJ91uROR5j3VgJgrcmPIqgBHNWNS35rP48W0NbCq9kmbLImA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br /><br />Finally, Mark achieved mastery of drumming and became a marching band of one! He marches around the house and says "marching-drumming, marching-drumming" (in Russian he says ходить-банить). He also found a book with a picture of an animal marching band - elephants and rhynos drumming and marching around the house (thank you, Sandra Boyton!). So Mark gets that book out every morning, find a picture of the marching band, studies it for a few seconds, and then starts his marching-drumming practice.<br /><br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwJCBpmQyq7D_YQQRjVXAwarFflj4X46eHWxkzExZSqJgKm8XnEqBdAGcKqs9v0bxBtpS-p9iCpr1I' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br /><div align="center"><strong></strong> </div><div align="center"><strong>Барабаны- для крутых пацанов!</strong></div>Yelenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14694419115983802067noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14311323.post-13128156036971092192009-04-02T22:47:00.006-04:002009-04-02T23:15:57.868-04:00Hiatus Explained... Sort of...<div><div>Looks like I've reached the rock bottom of blog update frequency (or rather, infrequency). My last post was a month ago! So now I have a big problem - I have way too much to talk about and not nearly enough time. Besides, I don't want to turn this update into a book-length thingy.<br /><div></div><div> </div><div>So, where should I start... Maybe I should tell you all about how it snowed in late February (or was it early March) and how Mark absolutely loved walking in the snow - didn't even mind his snowboots - and building a decent snowman...<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320293438119164114" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQavNxKrYXave0NeQrFfa1tP5bJDBK1BkWZJjpi0oSilUTM-YFDzwkY6lPOLbMA95QKGVX9FPUcq0kgSXFTAPFEiOzFCp07iYGSI0PA2ptXsuY55YgGIMYPbbICmu8Dqi-6GlIoQ/s320/DSC04625.JPG" border="0" /></div><div></div><br /><div>Or should I tell you about Mark's art classes? He goes every Thursday morning for an hour to an arts class where he paints, glues, plays with clay, and in general expresses himself. He mostly sticks to painting with paintbrushes since everything else tends to get very messy (and he doesn't like getting his hands dirty). </div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320294492456627906" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEITnQENBWfQ-VyJ3yFI6AQOC1b3Yd539wkH89deAo4gAvm_oT39vswLYY5woSkDSNkmH7tnhFOPY8P58fsvBAAMVZH0NOlisMoGfhyphenhypheneYrXqz-A0eLSWzIwAqRJvFJv-6dTapuCw/s320/DSC04659.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div>Or maybe I should tell you of the latest news about my business. Ok, there'd be too much to tell, so here's a list:</div><div></div><ul><br /><li>udpated website - <a href="http://www.oneclickva.com/">http://www.oneclickva.com/</a> (if you're interested)</li><li>I wrote and published a free report (available on my site)</li><li>wrote and submitted 2 articles to Ezinearticles.com (will see how that goes)</li><li>bunch of networking stuff going on, both online and in the "real" world</li><li>got a new client - a <a href="http://www.freespacesonline.com/">professional organizer</a>; look at my beautifully organized crafts closet now!</li></ul><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320295414949501426" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_I_bDub43lWFw04tHtAwDCQv2nw-rv3TR22RXWqZOt1irMeFnx-KZbsxsIS7TFrHShBlwH2Wr8py17FbX_HzV_dCqYhImVN5BmqfhyzYRE05wfqpnAc1AJb7PeSfWB-_6Es4LCg/s320/DSC04664.JPG" border="0" /></div><p></p><p>Or maybe I should mention that our little garden is doing well. Only one garden bed is used so far (still have to get topsoil for the other two). But this one is working overtime, let me tell you. We crammed so much stuff in it, we don't even remember what and where we planted. The first two rows are peas for sure (or maybe beans). Then - a couple of rows of leeks and scallions. Then it gets more confusing - a row of radishes (should be ready at the end of April), 2 rows of lettuce, and a mystery row. For the longest time I thought that the mystery row was unsuccessful row of radishes. Only a couple of days ago looking at the little plants closely did I realize that this is another row of lettuce (mesclun, actually). Oh, and then, there are a couple of rows of carrots.</p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320298007617190082" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7NAi3AqYqwBYvYEczmiUn5fgcEm8ghcnnmwqsLprQDUPTxGbDOri3Fnog4MO8U7upzJ34boxXVnCeXtjRxCEZtOjJqkAsQsBXKhdM6rbYXLRL9ZQkD-aV4QBq7jGtRu0MYyocWQ/s320/DSC04678.JPG" border="0" /> <p>The tomatoes, peppers and eggplants are growing well for now. I re-planted them into bigger containers and can't wait to put them outside into the garden (not until the end of April, though). Plus Chris planted a couple of each of raspberries and blackberries. Mark helped, of course! </p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320298017856596914" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA0ci5ha4oZBSTMLgFY52qFq5SzRy_RITH-i6_oZkwV7dOr0I_e3UeDSH0tBYFXH5aYeR6uxjKLw-K6Z4WnYsRNU-J3Y9v_gihonUn8AZOhCDPXKHs-oeY2sB0fJxFEiW1uIpzHw/s320/DSC04685.JPG" border="0" /> <p>So as you can see, there are tons of things going on here. I'm sure I'm forgetting to write about most, but then it's almost midnight and I'm running on like no sleep (and hey, I don't drink coffee).</p></div>Yelenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14694419115983802067noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14311323.post-85008316614638498512009-03-01T19:48:00.003-05:002009-03-01T20:34:20.601-05:00Где обедал воробейА точнее, чем обедал воробей:<br /><br /><br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzyEHGuj730EwOTN_CJ3uK-q-HAOI9Jv9wS8KqQ9eGJoW3KXG-1B06cwjlBbNnp539lG97WHeL19qg' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe>Yelenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14694419115983802067noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14311323.post-21728910336140015722009-02-23T19:32:00.006-05:002009-02-23T23:02:32.312-05:00Our Victory Garden (или Скучаем по даче)<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhezsKId66ATyGOh_hPf457_Ej0YCOe2NdTsFxGY8z2ELqCnJ6D139CdEdenkJhR4b1UdCF0IDjGTIhOJ754MYQAkJsz8nOrwpqsZ6dgagyRKNjUtyHDo3NFf8eeYxjGvI1eakvOg/s1600-h/DSC04576.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306204296660056546" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhezsKId66ATyGOh_hPf457_Ej0YCOe2NdTsFxGY8z2ELqCnJ6D139CdEdenkJhR4b1UdCF0IDjGTIhOJ754MYQAkJsz8nOrwpqsZ6dgagyRKNjUtyHDo3NFf8eeYxjGvI1eakvOg/s320/DSC04576.JPG" border="0" /></a>We have a large backyard - a third of an acre (I'm guessing about 12 соток?). But it's overgrown with ivy, brush, and tall pine trees (то, что кажется называется мачтовые сосны). The benefits are many - no need to mow grass, smells of fresh pine, lots of birds and squirrels. But of course as far as the entertainment goes, the backyard is useless - dark, uneven ground, no grass, lots of mosquitoes the size of a hummingbird.<br /><div></div><br /><div>At first we thought about doing something about it. But with one and a half jobs between the two of us and the scary economy, we decided to postpone this project until some unspecified later date. Instead, we're going to concentrate on a more manageable front yard. </div><div></div><br /><div>The big plan is to take the old trees out - they are ridden with some desease anyway and plant fig trees and blueberry bushes instead. There's also some talk about a miniature pomegranate tree and flower beds. Of course, first we need to borrow a chain saw from one of the neighbors...</div><br /><div></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306204300881673650" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVt5jTYpH1WewGZlHJ9L0tgeIqQhKwFXxuQPWknSlTob6hBl2NfFqHGbh67jd4T6LRk7_DtE8LDFo-3sIqn-johFbWnohw7r3tubKU5rltUoHkkW14TAwhiaNycEkPAl1Xa2yqiw/s320/DSC04591.JPG" border="0" /> <div>In the mean time, we decided to start our own vegetable garden. Oh, the dreams of self-sufficiency, even if for only a couple of weeks in summer. Is there such a thing as partial self-sufficiency? Not having to pay $1 for each red pepper, $3/lb for decently-tasting tomatoes, and $2 for each eggplant would save us a bundle. Plus we would finally have very fresh, great-tasting, organic produce! </div><div></div><br /><div>But since the backyard conversion is out of the question, we started very small with 3 small raised beds right in the front yard. So we're gonna put some tomatoes, peppers, eggplants, cukes, and some herbs. </div><div></div><br /><div>We already cleared up the area (Mark was helping to pull out weeds). Chris put together 3 frames for the beds (again, with Mark's help). And I'm busy germinating the seeds. I used Chris's old Army T-shirt to soak the seeds in. So quite literally we are beating swords into plowshares (перековываем мечи на орала). </div><br /><div></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306204305903931218" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdVChBI4FVTQf6skSPhLiuSKkCOtEVUO9Bpu-vXt0MLJRvUBKMCREqOqVJ6hNatMKznF_70Wm9xNWw5pFIiDw-CEb5oCROMzz8K21Wv_TrzZFSKrz2jcwzCY7s3GS5UB_Jy3Rm4A/s320/DSC04607.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div>Now Chris is turning one of the beds into a cold frame and we're thinking about where to get cheap uncontaminated top soil (we don't have nearly enough compost to fill all the beds). So far it's a pretty expensive project! But Mark loves it and it promises to be a lot of fun (as long as we don't have another bad drought this year).</div><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwMBPla04XunuA4IQ0SUZq4ZzaYr86-quLFbOwz5SmnFwLoqgvNWUTeYcVv0O8ZYRSW3M4FAv1zulg' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe>Yelenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14694419115983802067noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14311323.post-74409852589393263692009-02-22T23:20:00.003-05:002009-02-22T23:34:47.872-05:00Getting ready for a paradeMark loves to drum. This is his new thing! He grabs drumsticks and his plastic toy drum and says "Я банить" (барабанить) - I drum. And then he walks around the house doing just that - drumming. He especially loves it when someone else joins him in his little parade. As you can imagine, the cat is going crazy (and he thought that tail-pulling was bad).<br /><br /><br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwdlHxw2kVf1Xr29iJfGM0Pg4ufJpgvnCsENLv2KimdEIJNEFw6Ug-j40uoQIge0Hr0-rdLTvPVsL0' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe>Yelenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14694419115983802067noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14311323.post-48787045820903315892009-02-22T22:50:00.004-05:002009-02-22T23:19:19.393-05:00The Big Neville<div><div><div><div><div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT-cy4vhDxMqmmWgg_j66dOYvB87X0_glmJ7EGIjfW2YePqZ-sGrxWMnzxyOxFOnGH3KxJhxD_feFl4bcxlUm0yPFe3ajs5S1s-tmqqZdrJINgCQFcz-eCgNZyXCmrxUpwQf8W1A/s1600-h/DSC04605.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305838265382363378" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT-cy4vhDxMqmmWgg_j66dOYvB87X0_glmJ7EGIjfW2YePqZ-sGrxWMnzxyOxFOnGH3KxJhxD_feFl4bcxlUm0yPFe3ajs5S1s-tmqqZdrJINgCQFcz-eCgNZyXCmrxUpwQf8W1A/s320/DSC04605.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />This is the Big Neville. It is missing a few wheels and some small details got broken off. That's what happens with a toy that gets carried everywhere, sent down slides, banged on many a hard surface, and launched down the stairs. Here's Neville's story.<br /><br /><br /><div>Mark, barely 2 years old, knows the names of pretty much all the trains from Thomas the Train stories. His first most favorite train (MFT) was the green Percy. Soon it was replaced by a succession of others - Annie, Clarabel (he pronounces it Ka-bel), Salty, Rusty, Duncan, Gordon (Go-nooon!), James (Debs), Henry and, of course, Thomas. Thomas stayed Mark's favorite for quite a while.</div><div></div><br /><div>Then, on his birthday, Mark got a big train with a light and sounds, from Arkadiy. Mark immediately named the train Neville. But of course, Mark already had another Neville in his toy box - a small wooden one. So to make it clear, Mark calls the new train the Big Neville (Bolshoy Neville). He carries Big Neville with him everywhere and keeps it by his bed. You think I'm making it up? Here are pictures:</div></div><div> </div><div>First thing in the morning, getting ready to change the diaper.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305841345865165858" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheKBgk5yjANrCPy6xawuPVEvUWVzdKbUJTNff_Urp0h_tk8-koNVrWG3oEbWrM7JdF7cyziZhLRCNQSkh3R9_tz83M4uOYcqdbBmDnjtQVhw6Sgr-sA20NaPFiaEbTw1wti6yetg/s320/DSC04597.JPG" border="0" /><br />Getting dressed:<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305841350969866274" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit4gLjGruumlgB5MjWIU2dPmExDrkfJsfTLA_2xDZoTQIMNZNSrIsJ0qc5GGNmgEf83_38upqXaCxHB_jJb2Sis6ERMyg78vepmLSL8ZEawo59grSShtsn_qId4Di71P3CdIJy3Q/s320/DSC04569.JPG" border="0" /><br />Watching cartoons:<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305838268720195730" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_LxvxmGbGYd8ZZhTidwZDmbUzc7DZZx7iT3Pf940EcSZQlTjCul4om3n0pC4Hgsu1jn6Z2tIADMiKOD5qq3ZeGJ_BenFsbCRZaq_OBEN2XoIPiwla3zKEl8HUJ2C8Ni80z5gllw/s320/DSC04570.JPG" border="0" /><br />Having a mid-day snack (had to change the shirt):<br /><div></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305838269856715410" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6gabaUsVLNGRY6vX7E8xhn3WCPL_xpUEjcAA6ohhjV1r4mFztg3_GFk-Y0h92CQDlpKFJOyPe_dbDpywdzo0ihFn-8TORcI7loJp6G8ILLgCUDlZVwWl338BSm71KMDvaHh72SA/s320/DSC04583.JPG" border="0" /><br />Clay-modeling at an arts class:<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305838272357326114" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguPb_DUN2blB50wON7vL41Q8E_iPyY8tTgMgavdHBrGfC7FBozYEG0BbmrhU_w5C8PQmXtxeN_j2CduEVzVqFrM4wAB9z3fh9P_BDNkkWk6TupOfD93CZqJ8CiPihKMOFMVgR5Ug/s320/DSC04586.JPG" border="0" />Putting toys away and getting ready for bed:<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305838278615522146" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGTMML5dQRzck5EV-12rxwQ8HZISrF0f3xBDd5_b4JTTvZFVRmpXbBpcct4PaTlUCaHCslJZizapTPjaRljqXw0tcQvTgFsM58dhc3gmYprqU1Gzlt_xbiMd_MXDaEMrY63vvb1w/s320/DSC04596.JPG" border="0" /> <div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Yelenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14694419115983802067noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14311323.post-89853415349489379462009-02-21T19:58:00.003-05:002009-02-21T20:32:59.672-05:00More birthday picturesSome more pictures from Mark's birthday weekend. The weather was great - unbelievably warm for February (oh, but we are paying for it now!). So we all spent lots of time outdoors - at the playgrounds and parks. <div><div><div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305423467849764018" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFU0d81UU01fAdgA0_GMkEAqtuBwba9eky1-JiUnHVCDMCDUuFxC_o48YLfRClZxIw-t1-517qP9Cf0mHZNSvWbxe0v2mN7Neaf-gA3bGrToRIx9P1b08M0kwII9nBaQmK61hoRA/s320/DSC04479.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFaC06OvHExaTBLrUo8YSyEsgWeyCrA6e1zD-0k0qVPXOos8d75kId1qkKEqqunnu6NvYHx2ocoveyNgNu5Enev-cCOD4QgCuje3f9C9-eVUe20PRfOUJXFV5Y98HodrxHcmvrUg/s1600-h/DSC04493.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305421733724846754" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFaC06OvHExaTBLrUo8YSyEsgWeyCrA6e1zD-0k0qVPXOos8d75kId1qkKEqqunnu6NvYHx2ocoveyNgNu5Enev-cCOD4QgCuje3f9C9-eVUe20PRfOUJXFV5Y98HodrxHcmvrUg/s320/DSC04493.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305423459210953138" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuK0XPjNqJQBNuQ8U9qe9uzQJ5KpYc6_fDkdqQ1refP_XrN5h9ehuPAW17vRRmmCzQyqt-3zpKlX0ctbe71pdMI0857xNXpN3nfF75FSwxMZKls_JZJOinqiqTFYQQoiAbT7ly6g/s320/DSC04513.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPHhOCIa0G45AHbcFjH_G2r2EvXeSecpJ2LfGrttHWqMhUH2lE9LhpQeXzIZAfvapkfUXfSc8oFukpkovL7-E_WjnbGCaMnTCMAhi1nu2etPxEVdMwirKHs4s5YHZlJWrjpsCEWg/s1600-h/DSC04489.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305421726991461202" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPHhOCIa0G45AHbcFjH_G2r2EvXeSecpJ2LfGrttHWqMhUH2lE9LhpQeXzIZAfvapkfUXfSc8oFukpkovL7-E_WjnbGCaMnTCMAhi1nu2etPxEVdMwirKHs4s5YHZlJWrjpsCEWg/s320/DSC04489.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305421738627700194" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqUqzirQrdW-ug0qzgr4rLh8rLXBvfyJ8qaOZn0uubpNPDPqrDxzSJY4p8bEoN5mTSow_lqw8Bw2RmuVCAU-TtRcpGvXlUnC85U7WW_3BuBRINamyrF3tAzvWTQnqmuwwF2GQgXg/s320/DSC04512.JPG" border="0" /> <div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicdB91bxa48HwURYK7GHh76ltLtltgd-Rd3zSerzOT8cO3XI6QHYwt-6fbT42_wvWgnAMOUVXF7tNRBfUCsKgphU7imJ_N3tRxcM9DthmhvyLmq_jGfuuU2LzaT88YbAjUA7FN1Q/s1600-h/DSC04473.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305421721422462962" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicdB91bxa48HwURYK7GHh76ltLtltgd-Rd3zSerzOT8cO3XI6QHYwt-6fbT42_wvWgnAMOUVXF7tNRBfUCsKgphU7imJ_N3tRxcM9DthmhvyLmq_jGfuuU2LzaT88YbAjUA7FN1Q/s320/DSC04473.JPG" border="0" /></a> Of course, evenings were spent in the house, playing with all the new toys Mark got for his birthday.<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsQ-zP3AdGtC-DXUQI65oVC0wzy5xoZprPifXN5D1cMcw2qLV-ho9blRNaOgI3ZloMh_qEw3-jicKRRFTUZtTzVEwEZRq9xwA4WsYLfwFw4hmi4oNlu_9pvFVKaUo_WUNG5jLOfw/s1600-h/DSC04467.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305421717662678434" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsQ-zP3AdGtC-DXUQI65oVC0wzy5xoZprPifXN5D1cMcw2qLV-ho9blRNaOgI3ZloMh_qEw3-jicKRRFTUZtTzVEwEZRq9xwA4WsYLfwFw4hmi4oNlu_9pvFVKaUo_WUNG5jLOfw/s320/DSC04467.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305423464329847890" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglU1pzOqSd8dCJQPyTSujliCfx5UBzpxKjO0YEL_fSb20fu78q5gLiFCZNVqA5KRj4brlf-2t0Q1h7oDnapEH2Pu-9sLdhmukq00njv5eXFaSS-CW1a4Ge10AtFlfDIhfSSWW6TQ/s320/DSC04471.JPG" border="0" /> <div> </div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Yelenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14694419115983802067noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14311323.post-66981352744574094892009-02-15T22:07:00.004-05:002009-02-15T22:49:10.237-05:00Birthday Bash - Mark is 2!<div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTFOYsKX0NV7h3PI1YjdZtbghTu0DtkTE3vrgtSETyfUE3WQLRMsvcxkERvCl4ds53fNe-sr5n3tYiikWuZBZKSLIGTCawUYuTk9EmB3X-jxM6XVlRoujmuKpIJB5nYfym8PK-tA/s1600-h/DSC04525.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303231972692484946" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTFOYsKX0NV7h3PI1YjdZtbghTu0DtkTE3vrgtSETyfUE3WQLRMsvcxkERvCl4ds53fNe-sr5n3tYiikWuZBZKSLIGTCawUYuTk9EmB3X-jxM6XVlRoujmuKpIJB5nYfym8PK-tA/s320/DSC04525.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div><div><div>Ok, the original birthday bash was cancelled because Mark was sick. So instead of a party with 4 toddlers, their parents, and Mark's grandparents and uncle, we had to settle for grandparents, uncle and Mark's best friend - Maeli (and her parents, of course). But of course, it was lots of fun nevertheless.</div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303231975838592498" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-QCQ_Kp7494gIwuQaH4HPFKUTU_7mYbKYqqmXCTXDeb59qYRF4SnoanoOVGTCrp3XlO0gEx0MH99O1Z6JzLimGcV0T1j1dI0ymIibp-uJFZyTtg1NLKABGNq2c85IwuuX3LDObQ/s320/DSC04512.JPG" border="0" /> <div></div><div>The original plan was to have a train-themed birthday party. So that explains the cake. But the gifts weren't limited to just train stuff. Sure, Mark's got a radio-controlled train (from Grandpa and Grandma), which he promptly named "Debs" (James) and a small black train (from uncle Arkady). This black train, which Mark quickly started calling Big Neville (he also has a small Neville), edged out Thomas (unheard of!) and is still THE MOST FAVORITE train and is taken everywhere.</div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303231975186350962" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj64b8slGvhlkZEWD842dnNCiBB0UrDXxD_fLqMlgObCl84i9gKL3Y6zndRuGlsqxg5mkyDc3PVTeBtTlM4tqrur8YGPAeTcO6_izu6Fx298RDXc3ERCYVkL962o2So-mqAjDf_jQ/s320/DSC04538.JPG" border="0" /> <div></div><div>Other toys included the Pig's Barn from the Word World cartoon (Pig is Mark's favorite character!), a play kitchen (now Mark cooks kasha, soup, and muffins, all with lots of butter), a few Russian-language books, cartoons and Elefun (still unpacked this one). So Mark is super-busy and entertained with all these new toys! Thank you very much for all the toys!</div><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303231966144273954" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2gzRkksO3oW_Cj1WUVulrtLTwYiDcoGy-flcdBrwN3S4mOHzMzf0bbKXEbGZ2lzsoaUSj00kivLQoBoX_3AMYnpDrQZD330ENQjSsOXSQCYyvKnGId7dc2pB2XiWZt7qKLLWfMg/s320/DSC04541.JPG" border="0" /> <div></div><div>On the day of his birthday, Mark woke up early and didn't nap at all. So he was ready to crash by about 6pm. But we had to keep him awake because we were expecting guests over - Sean, Stephanie and Maeli. Well, he barely stayed awake. But once Maeli came over, he's got the second wind and partied until 8pm. So he set a record for staying awake for over 14 hours straight.</div><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303231965316572466" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtRiO9Y4KLCmNaPVcxNNSkoTbXWWDhYox9D27I-QT5jfD9dLDFIavGbWbAly9MzPPiyNx4kfxAo72r9jgOrHPVcmsa3cQ5UDhG0_46YI6sqCTq_0IRQRIuC7J0EzfnHmFQCKWB5g/s320/DSC04540.JPG" border="0" /> <div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div></div></div></div></div><br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyMjCpT-jXUi_v5zl5pvKJx_EHxsgBkhOndmo-b7dWnQ8DZaLbCCg_6NWzyRCzg67d6wm8v3jPEE-0' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe>Yelenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14694419115983802067noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14311323.post-26641034246880151892009-02-01T22:52:00.003-05:002009-02-01T23:09:08.325-05:00Riding horses at Dead Broke Farm<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPZETrC5dC3Dw0Xx0SGJvZl12coY1-lb_s4A-lGDH8QMdAjqIzS-XJ0QTI-Dv7bgXDORk1yu297xq23ZEUQcLvX1H2TXpxdD-dtoz-1RqOivpr35Lp5ZCmBqXJ_gRlnEV5b3shoA/s1600-h/DSC04413.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5298046929818381890" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPZETrC5dC3Dw0Xx0SGJvZl12coY1-lb_s4A-lGDH8QMdAjqIzS-XJ0QTI-Dv7bgXDORk1yu297xq23ZEUQcLvX1H2TXpxdD-dtoz-1RqOivpr35Lp5ZCmBqXJ_gRlnEV5b3shoA/s320/DSC04413.JPG" border="0" /></a> <div><div><div><div>For Maeli's birthday Stephanie and Sean wanted to take her to ride a pony. Steph found out that there was this Dead Broke Farm over in Durham Co where they had 20-minute pony rides for toddlers. Off we went. I didn't think that Mark would want to even sit on a pony. After all, he doesn't even want to sit on his little tricycle (even when I offer to push it)!</div><div></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5298046067441236898" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpDEwSroUJSNL6cAccbbRNcM4e_7JTp1g5-Hz_Kn19mLzevtPi4_OZJ5p16qVFxdkznHXCfAj4IHpC62N3BtmC-9U4ayjJBMznNp6wG4W1gqkjqVHvhDbFtsEWhVe3NYlUKKnMEQ/s320/DSC04412.JPG" border="0" /> <div>But I was wrong (you just never know with this boy). He loved sitting on a pony and petting it. Then he got a bit bored waiting for the ride to start. But once we took off, he just kept smiling bigger and bigger smile. And he sat well in the saddle too. At first, we had a problem since he kept holding onto his Thomas the Train and only used one hand to hold onto the saddle. But once he got into the ride (about 10 seconds later), he just gave me the train and placed all his attention on the pony. </div><div></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5298046069060362546" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxyUybTs69p9kZBCsVQkL5Tiwbg65ShqGJoH8XE2DNDJ37i8ep-b5cd8LIVn6JFZsTKm5JHofxLoIHGHQQA9kOewfhDZtMyQLDiBNRZlW9_9LHcbd65H-7AOswafCDrZwVjuMsIg/s320/DSC04415.JPG" border="0" /> <div>And it wasn't one of those carnival rides either, where poor ponies go round and round in a circle like 100 times. No, this was an honest trail ride, first on the dirt road and then on a woodsy trail and back on the dirt road. When it was over and he was off the pony, he wanted to go again. This time, he got to ride a big horse! Again, he loved it! And afterwards he got to pet the dogs and the cats that live on the farm.</div></div></div></div>Yelenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14694419115983802067noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14311323.post-38117000010175435372009-02-01T22:23:00.003-05:002009-02-01T22:52:33.978-05:00When it snowed<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd0SLqW5-vsM2knucm56pDgFaqOYvCKA4MEzROQP_6t_ai8CCsDRw908BpIS06aOzG0Rj3Afovf9iM360IzuBGq33TTvayV7l4HoBlLz8SwBpPlMHANJBYrRzxwZR28GRYVUIYAA/s1600-h/DSC04375.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5298041040143457602" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd0SLqW5-vsM2knucm56pDgFaqOYvCKA4MEzROQP_6t_ai8CCsDRw908BpIS06aOzG0Rj3Afovf9iM360IzuBGq33TTvayV7l4HoBlLz8SwBpPlMHANJBYrRzxwZR28GRYVUIYAA/s320/DSC04375.JPG" border="0" /></a>So the weather's been crazy lately. One day it's really cold, way too cold to even go outside. And the next day it's warm enough (low 50ies) that you see college students in T-shirts, shorts, and flip-flops. But we did get some snow, lots of it actually, and it stayed for a couple of days. As a matter of fact, we had a big snow storm. Most of the places were closed and people were encouraged to stay home. I didn't need much encouragement since I really can't drive in the snow. <div><div><br /><div></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5298041026933469522" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNKNrjfmG7zrnE-MQUYQLdZxgfnUw0uyWJe15aimUmYmjbUo57k83apIpBionltcr0DF_c5R3hXtCw9G8JsTipA4DLYjiHHOmB6CUNe9dZNoc2Xr2nyF2WChoWTivNM8Mlj6xvpg/s320/DSC04392.JPG" border="0" /> <div>Mark hated snow at first. I took him outside and he immediately objected - it was too cold, too white, too snowy. Then again, he refused to wear his snow boots and mittens. Chris got a little blue plastic sled, shaped like a flying saucer and we tried to take Mark on a ride. He tolerated it for a little while only because he really did not want to walk in the snow. But every time snow touched his fingers or got on his coat, he whimpered. </div><div></div><br /><div>In the late afternoon, after the snow stopped falling, we went to the school yard to let Mark sled down a small slope. Again, he did not like it, this time refusing to even sit on the sled. And he normally loves all sorts of slides. </div><div></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5298041037009948770" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9ShbqQuoAosqHqeQH55P75RCskoas_rfq0f500o8Cl9gpde-Y5hLatnJxU0UKvRQ9zLFHnnjs1SgUDmrtwBv-LTY3sRGWMoZvOwOEleOYXAc_LofTFcAzQdFr9zHcl83yoS60hw/s320/DSC04397.JPG" border="0" /> <div>But the next day, when I took him to the daycare, he warmed up to the idea of playing in the snow and even helped build a snowman. By the end of the third day, he kept asking to go see "sneg", bravely walked in the deepest snow under the pine trees, and tried having a snowball fight with Chris. But it was too late - the next day all the snow was gone.</div></div></div>Yelenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14694419115983802067noreply@blogger.com