Pie in the Sky

America is a great country! You don't have to be a John Travolta to own a plane. Ordinary people, average Joes and Janes, can with some studying get their private pilot license, buy a plane, and fly to Iowa for a family reunion or to Bahamas for a weekend of scuba-diving. Hundreds of thousands of little planes are available for purchase - new and used, historical replicas and real vintage things, planes that land on land and planes that land on water, planes ready to fly and planes in kits waiting to be assembled and even little helicopters.

Now, just as dog owners have dog shows, bikers have the Bike Week, and pumpkin growers have the Cirleville Pumpkin Show , the airplane owners and owner-wanna-bees have airshows and fly-ins. One of the most famous small plane shows is the AirVenture held annually in Oshkosh. Of course, that's in Wisconsin.

It would be really surprising if Florida did not have some kind of an airshow, right? I mean, we have everything else here (except for mountains, snow, and good-paying jobs). And so of course, we have the Sun-n-Fun airshow and fly-in held annually in Lakeland. AirVenture-shmareventure, our event even sounds cooler! Now, an airshow of this kind is not just an airshow. First, it lasts a whole week. Second, air performances with all the fly-bys, aerobatics, wing-walkers, precision flying, and such are held every single day of the week. Third, besides an airshow itself various exibits, classes, swap meets, and other events are held daily for everyone to enjoy.

Of course, Lakeland is 2 hours away from us. And the admission to the show is $30 per person once you get there. Neither Chris nor I are small aviation enthusiasts. So how come we ended up at the Lakeland Airport last Saturday and willingly paid $60 for something we had little interest in? It's elementary, my dear Watson! My father, who is a big general aviation enthusiast, drove all the way from New York just for this show.

My father used to fly little YK planes when he was young and impressionate. I have no clear idea as to what happened back then that effectively ended his pilot career, but I believe it involved some kind of a prank or probably even several that he pulled during his flight training. And so he got kicked out at some point. But, as they say in cheesy novels, the dream stayed alive in the young man's heart. Of course, being that my Dad lived in the Soviet Union, there was no way for him to fulfil his dream of flying outside a para-military flight school. And so the dream curled up snuggly in his cerebral cortex (or wherever these things are stored) and took a long nap.

It was awakened with Dad's arrival to the US, the land of unlimited possibilities. And it became particularly strong once Dad turned 60 and both my brother and I were semi-established on our way to that pie in the sky commonly known as The American Success Story. To make the long story short, the dream reared its ugly head and took posession of my Dad. He started spending long hours on Internet searching for good deals on planes and became a regular on eBay. He talked of FAA regulations, torque, altitudes and cross-country flights. He even started saving money. Of course, he understood his limitations, both financial and linguistic. So he set his sight low - on a no-license-required category of ultra-lights.

It would be a mistake to think that these things are cheap. Of course, compared to a Cessna, a $12,000 price tag is really a bargain. But let's not forget that $12,000 effectively buys you a motorized chair with a 5-gallon jerrican of gasoline underneath, a swamp-boat propeller strapped to its back and an oversized kite on top that keeps you from falling 500 or so feet to the ground. Of course, there are plenty of schools and clubs throughout the United States where one can pay money and experience a solo or a tandem flight on one of these things. But my Dad has been in the US long enough now to catch the ownership bug. And so he came to Florida to find an ultra-light of his dream. We followed.

The day we went to the show was hot, sunny, and very windy. After walking a bit around the ultra-lights, we left Dad and a couple of his friends and made our way to the airfield. There was but little time to spare as the skydivers drifted slowly on their canopies signaling the start of the daily airshow. As we tried to get closer to the stands, we passed a field of small planes parked neatly in rows with the camping tents taking the space between them. Just like on a regular camping trip, their owners were sleeping, snacking, sunning themselves, or in one case rocking in a hammock carefully hung under a wing. In short, it was very Norman Rockwell.

The closer we got to the airfield, the more crowded it got. Keeping one eye on a 11-plane formation flight, we passed by a showcase of military planes. It was a little bit weird to see people sitting under the guns of an F-15, hiding from the sun; children, excitedly watching the show from its wings; and a young Air Force pilot smiling good-naturadely while posing for a picture. It was weird because somewhere thousands of miles away another F-15 was probably executing a less friendly mission bringing fear and pain to both adults and children in its path.

After walking aimlessly for a little while trying to find some shade, we finally saw a patch of grass that was not only shaded by a wing of a small plane, but was miraculously unclaimed by anyone else. As far as we could see it had no trash or signs of spilled beverages or melted ice-cream either. We sat there and watched several great aerobatic performances for some time before my Dad called. He was done with the ultra-lights and was looking for us. After much confusion ("let's meet by a small plane, the yellow and red one") we finally found each other. Dad was very tired and sun-burnt. His leg was bothering him and he was limping more noticeably than usual. And so instead of returning to our seats, we tried to find something nearby.

Luckily, we were next to a row of YK planes that were flying in a show earlier. We stretched out on the grass under a red-star studded wing and watched the rest of the show. At some point the owners of the plane, two men from Tennessee, showed up and Dad started a conversation with them. The airshow was almost over. And of course, the best or at least the most impressive, was saved for last. We watched as the American newest figher plane, the F22-Raptor, took off, completed several fly-bys and performed some aerobatics. Finally it was joined by an F-15 and a P-51 for the final fly-by.

The show was over and everyone headed home. Most people shlepped to the parking lots. Ultra-light owners were disassembling their flying chairs and carrying the propellers to their trucks. The real planes lined up at the runaway waiting to take off.

On the way home we stopped to buy some freshly-picked strawberries. There are tons of strawberry fields in and around Lakeland. It is the heart of the strawberry country, so to say. For 6 dollars we bought a big cardboard box full of freshly-picked strawberries. And so, in a strawberry-smelling car, we sped up to I-4 in a vain attempt to beat its eternal traffic.

A big box of strawberries proved a bit too much for us. We ate the berries ourselves and force-fed them to guests, we gave them away to friends, and had them for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and occassional munch attacks. But there was no end to them. We even baked a strawberry shortcake. Days later we still had a couple of pounds of berries in the refrigerator.

A boring lunch break

What is the difference between Xander, my cat, and a loquat?

This sounds like a stupid question. But if you think about it, both are round, orange in color, sweet and soft. But of course, there are important differences that one must be aware of. Xander is furry and a loquat's smooth skin is covered with fuzz. Xander can jump up and down and sideways, while a loquat can only fall down. Xander chases lizards and birds, but a loquat is indifferent to both. Finally, Xander is raised inside a house and is pretty much useless. A loquat grows outside and is used in landscaping as well as for eating.

One of the pictures here is of a loquat and the other one - of Xander. Thanks to my little explanation you will never get mixed up over which one to eat and which one to pet.

But that's not it! This is Ponce Inlet Lighthouse as seen last Saturday from a park in New Smyrna Beach. I also saw a family of dolphins there, but they were too hard to photograph. So just use your imagination.

COLD HARD CASH - 2

Why "2"? Because I wrote the first "COLD HARD CASH" entry on Monday, but just as I was about to post it the electricity went out with a bang, literally and so all my efforts were erased. Lesson learned - "Save as Draft" button comes in handy after all.

So needless to say that I was extremely pissed. It took me two days to get over this and I've still not come to terms with what happened on Monday. Besides, it was a really nice story that I wrote.

In my description of an opera, Rossinni's "The Barber of Seville", I described, quite eloquently, the feeling of smug content with life, universe and everything that one experiences watching, free of charge, a very good performance of a great opera. Yes, that was the last performance of the 2005-2006 International Series presented by the Daytona Beach Symphony Society. And it was the last time in the foreseeable future that we got to go to a major cultural event for free. Therefore, I lamented in my last post, that from now on we must pay COLD HARD CASH to enjoy theatrical performances here in Daytona Beach, a town not known for its student or military discounts.

In my original post that didn't survive the blackout, I also provided an entertaining description of our trip to the SkyVenture Orlando, an indoor skydiving attraction. It would be useless to try to re-create my story again. Да, рукописи может и не горят, но электронные статьи точно исчезают без следа. So now noone, except for myself, Chris, Albina and her daughter Bianca, will know how great it was to float 10-15 feet off the floor in a 250-mile per hour wind inside a pressurized tunnel. Noone will know how difficult it is to stay afloat and not crawl on the floor like some bottom-feeder in a fish tank. Nor will I explain again how even the smallest movement throws you off balance and make you twist and turn and fly all over the chamber, hitting the glass walls and generally providing entertainment to the spectators outside. The only thing that I will repeat is that high price non-withstanding ($20/minute for an introductory 2-minute session), it is tons of fun and is worth doing at least once. For more than that we'll need, once again, COLD HARD CASH.

Bike Week 2006

What is a Bike Week, you ask me? It's another manifestation of an American love affair with all things loud and gas-consuming. It's a city-wide celebration of the three Bs - bikes, boobs, and beer. It's a mostly red-neck festival of loud pipes, leather chaps worn over bikini bottoms, five-dollar cans of Bud (if you count a tip), live music performances, and politically incorrect T-shirts. It's a Spring Break for yer old, bald, fat and ugly. It's a party that goes on for 10 days, 24 hours a day and that brings close to 500,000 people into Daytona Beach and its environs.

Yes, it is true that every year the Bike Week grows more diverse. There are more young people attending, more women, more black folks, more Northerners, and more foreigners. But overwhelmingly it's a red-neck and Southern event through and through, at least for now.

Now, let's get something straight right away. First of all, what goes on at the International Speedway during these 10 days should not be referred to as Bike Week. It's a commercialized event heavy on big names in motorworld and stinking of corporate America. I'm not saying don't go. By all means do, if you want to see some pretty darn good bike racing or test-drive a nice new Buell, Harley, or BMW. Nor am I saying not to go to the Daytona Flea Market, just around the corner from the Speedway, a great place for fresh fruits and vegetables, kitchy souveniers, a daily motorcycle stunt show and a swap meet. Nor am I advising you against going to Ridgewood Ave, lined up with souvenier stalls, for some shopping, to Ormond Beach for some old-fashioned Harley experience, or to Samsula for a night of female cole-slaw restling. All I'm saying is if you want a real party, go to Main Street. And that's exactly what Chris and I did last Saturday.



First, we went to a free concert at the bandshell on the beach. It's really a very nice place with great ocean views. Plus there are several restaurants, a Marble Slab Creamery, a Starbucks, and a large movie theater. So first we watched the concert and then decided to get some coffee for Chris at the Starbucks (see picture).

Then we slowly made our way along the beach to Main Street for the big party. As usual, it was jam-packed with bikes and people. To get a temporary relief from streams of leather-clad human flesh we stopped by a couple of bars. Now, there are several that are a must-do during Bike Week. Dirty Harry's is famous for it's thrice-daily wet T-shirt contest. Any woman is welcome to give it a try. There are usually 5-6 contestants per show - 1-2 "heifers", 1-2 desperate housewives in their last attempt to get attention to their overly tanned, wrinkly and sagging body-parts, and a couple of wayward college chicks drunk off their behinds at 2PM on a hot Saturday afternoon. The boobs are all freshly enlarged, except on the "heifers", with the white stretchmarks and the bluish veins forming a "Stars and Stripes"-like patterns. It's all good to most of the spectators who haven't been sober since last Monday.

A good place for food and music is the Full Moon. They always have a huge stage set up outdoors with rock concerts going on pretty much non-stop. The food is fresh and abundant if not cheap. A plate of shredded beef with rice and veggies will set you back $15. Better go for a flavorfull turkey leg, as big as your head or a jumbo hotdog generously smothered in ketchup, mustard, and relish. You have two choices here. You can take your food inside a dark saloon, away from the blistering afternoon sun, with the floors a bit sticky from all the spilled beers (and hopefully not from something else). Or you can grab one of the bar tables outside, preferrably away from the stage and under an umbrella and watch other patrons getting their pictures with the smiling beer girls. They are believe it or not one of the best-looking ones that the Bike Week can offer.

Froggies is a fun place too. Right of the bat, you are offered a good spanking from a couple of scantly-clad chicks. They do it for tips, administering the "punishment" with a rather heavy hand, according to the suckers that pay to be belted in public. Once inside though there isn't much to do, but drink. I don't really know if they have any concerts there at all. But the music is loud and in the evenings there are dancing girls, the stripper-wanna-be ones, shacking their money-makers on little baby-blue platforms.

Finally, no trip to the Bike Week is complete without visiting the Boot Hill Saloon. It's right across the street from an old cemetery which explains their motto "Better Here Than Across the Street". And who can argue with that! It is indeed better at the Boot Hill than almost anywhere else on Main Street. First of, they have probably the best-designed T-shirts and ladies love wearing them too. Second, even though their beer girls are not the prietiest bunch, they sure dress the best or should I say, the least, always setting the fashion for Bike Weeks to come. They ditched T-shirt and bikini tops in favor of underware and pasties years ago. Since then, the pasties got progressively smaller while the body parts under them - progressively bigger (evidently, plastic surgeries are becoming more affordable; I think Wal-Mart should look into the opportunity). I bet $10 that next year it's all going to be nothing but some body-paint. But apart from girls, they do play some good-old country music and their performers are most engaging. Then again, how can one not want to join in signing the "Gang Bang" song?!




And what about the bikes, you ask? Well, what about them? With so much going on, bikes are constantly in the background. The stream of riders along Main Street never lets up. The lucky ones manage to find a free parking spot along the street. Others drive slowly through to A1A and funnel out, seeking $5 parking spaces around the neighborhood. If you enjoy Discovery and TLC channels' shows about custom-built bikes, you'll see a lot of that here as well. Lately trikes and bikes with side-cars are all the rage. But pretty much any bike with custom paint, outrageous accessories, or nice detailing (including girls in the back) draws attention and countless camera flashes. Many people come to the Bike Week every year. Many bring the same motorcycles so occassionally we get to see a familiar "face" (paint job). Many people bring their bikes here to sell and the price tags range from $4800 to $75000.

Now for the men that drive these bikes. They sport beer-bellies of various sizes, facial hair, wear black Bike Week-themed T-shirts or muscle shirts, have a beer in one hand and a digital camera in the other. They show various stages of farmer's tan, from lobster-red (most often) to leathery brown, and many - elaborate tatooes. Of course, this description applies to a lot of Bike Week women. So here's a tell-tale sign - no make-up and loose-fitting jeans mean it's a dude. There are some extreme cases, of course.

But overall, you gotta love the Bike Week. It's loud, obnoxious, in-your-face, and expensive to go to. But here in Daytona Beach, where the rest of the year we live on a set of the "Cocoon", it feels great!

My Typical Work Day

Today is Thursday and the week is winding down already. Less than an hour into my work day I decided to keep track of all the things I do from 9 to 5 (5:30 to be exact). Why? Well, first of all, I don't have much to do right now, although it might change any second. And then, you get a better understanding of what my job is like and how cool (or not) it is.

9:00am - Turn the computer on, log in to the Mondial server, and check my Outlook. I have only 4 e-mails this morning - not bad at all. Two of the e-mails let me know that one of the projects is going to be delayed. Another e-mail is from my new Russian translator confirming his availability for a project I sent to him yesterday. The last e-mail is from my boss, letting me know that he initiated a wire transfer to one of our overseas agencies.

9:05am - I reply to all the e-mails and contact my co-worker, Leo, to let him know about a delay in project delivery. Find out - Leo is sick and is taking a day off. Oh no!!! My typical day just turned a bit less typical. Let's hope that it's a slow day because now I'm not only getting all Leo's e-mails, but also am taking over all his projects for the day.

9:10 - I'm checking my Hotmail account. I won another ProZ challenge and earned 4 more points. I'm quickly approaching 100 points! ProZ is an on-line community of translators and interpreters. We go there sometimes to look for translators, especially for obscure languages. Also, translators use ProZ for help with difficult or unfamiliar terminology. Other translators offer their answers or comment on previously suggested answers. Then an asker gets to choose the best answer and the answerer is awarded 3-4 points (unless it's a non-profit question). Usually about 15-20 questions are posted daily in my pair (English<>Russian) and in my areas of expertise or interest. I answer a couple of them at most and comment on another 2-3.

9:35 - checking my e-mail took me a bit longer than usual since I was interrupted a couple of times by my boss. He just wanted to make sure that I was ok getting all that extra work. No biggie, I told him, at least for now. And then I checked my Army e-mail. I usually don't get anything very important or interesting there unless it's a week before my drill weekend.

9:40 - breakfast time

9:45 - back to work. First, I had to search for some English<>Albanian translators for a potential project. I found several on the ATA website and shot them an inquiry e-mail. Then I received a fax from one of our clients approving a quote we gave them yesterday for English>French translation. So I prepared a work order for one of our translators and sent the project out to her. She confirmed almost immediately - fantastic!

10:03 - our Marketing Manager, Robin, IMs me and asks to give her a call. She has a log book, hand-written in Traditional Chinese, that needs to be translated into English. She sends it to me for review. Immediately, we see several potential problems - barely readable text, uncertainty over a character count, and such. I decide to send it to our Chinese team in Canada (has to be native English speakers for an into English translation) for evaluation. Let's see what they have to say.

10:15 - two projects arrive. One is a Spanish translation and one is a German into English translation. So now I have to check both translations against the originals. Even though I don't speak either Spanish or German, I do catch errors from time to time. After the files are checked, I have to do word count and enter the billing information into our master Profit & Loss grid. Then I create invoices and send them out to the clients along with the translated files. Finally, I close the projects and take them off my task schedule.

11:14 - Eleonora stops by. She's off today and we had plans to go to the beach on my lunch break. I'm not sure if we're still going to do it since she's got a migrane headache.

11:18 - Robin sends me another project - two files are to be translated into Spanish and two - from Spanish into English. I'm going to take a look at the files, figure out who to assign them to, prepare the work orders and send them out.

11:36 - Just as I finished sending the EnglishEnglish project out, another one came in. This one is English>Chinese and requires some desk-top publishing services. Here's the problem - we're not sure if it's into Traditional Chinese or Simplified Chinese. So we're trying to find out.

11:47 - I got a call from дядя Гриша, Irka's father. He works for IMA, the motorcycle organization that hosts Bike Weeks in Daytona. Apparently he's right here, at the race track. Maybe he'll stop by.

12:02 - The so-called "typical" day of mine turns out anything but "typical" after all. Uncle Grisha stops by. I finish all my e-mails and a couple of work-related phone calls and we go out to lunch. Of course, it's a Bike Week in Daytona, so everything is packed with people. It takes half an hour just to get to the beach side. Fortunately, Johnny Rockets is not too busy when we get there. They have great views of the beach and probably the best milk shakes in town.

14:48 - I'm back from my very extended lunch. Tons of e-mails. First, my Russian translator needs clarifications for an on-going project. So we're contacting the client. Also, teh quotes that I requested earlier today for possible Chinese and Japanese translations came in and they don't look good. Forwarded them to our marketing manager for consideration.

15:04 - one of the projects that were completed earlier today has to be re-sent to a different person because the original contact person is at a trade show in Germany, the lucky SOB!

15:07 - received two new files from our old client, a company that makes fireplaces. Now I'm going to prepare a quote and send it out to the client for approval.

15:17 - called one of the clients to ask to send me the project files. They signed an agreement earlier today, but still haven't sent the file, duh!

15:19 - a English>French translation project is in. I'm checking it, completing the usual P&L entry and an invoice, and sending it on its way to the client. Thanks God it's a small project, not much to check!

15:25 - trying to call one of the translators (English>Japanese) to confirm that she received a project I sent her yesterday. But she's not in the office and I can't reach her on her cell phone.

15:28 - ok, seems like things have quited down a bit. So I'm just checking my Hotmail account and my military e-mail. My friend Rob dropped a line (he's chilling in his new pad in St. Pete, FL). Hope he follows the link and gets to this blog. Hey, Rob, how does it feel to read 'bout yourself? :)

15:53 - not much is going on right now. At this point, all the projects that were due today came in and were processed and sent out to the clients. So I'm using this time to add new proposals to my database.

16:00 - break time is over. Next request for a quote just came in. This one will take a while to prepare - first I have to download a huge file from the client's FTP; then I have to run the Acrobat version of the file through a program that will convert graphics into editable text. This will allow me to do a word count for the file. Only after all this prep work will I be able to put together a proposal.

16:08 - still have 25 minutes left for FTP download. I'm going to finish watching the PBS movie "The Elegant Universe" (based on Brian Green's book with the same title that deals with quantum mechanics and strings theory).

16:32 - play time is over. More work just came in. I have to e-mail one of our agencies in China and find out if they are available for a large translation and how soon can they do it.

17:33 - just finished putting together a large proposal. See my note from 16:00. Sent it out. Also, had to e-mail last-minute changes to our agency in China regarding a possible project that just got downsized big time (4000 words instead of 20000). Also, had to e-mail a French Canadian translator requesting him to translate some words that he missed in the last project.

17:35 - time to sign out and go home. Wait, I am home already! Ok, then it's time to sign out and go cook some dinner.

Survivor - Army Style

That was some weekend! Our brigade decided to finally start doing some real soldiering and not just paper pushing. And so they held a soldier competition called..."Survivor". Each unit was supposed to provide several 5-person teams that were to "outrun, outwin, outsoldier, outeverything else". I ended up being a team leader for my team which was a bit scary.

The competition started on a Saturday morning with a breakfast at a mess hall at Camp Blanding, FL. Well, at least I thought of breakfast as an unofficial first obstacle since it was absolutely disgusting. I guess, not all the teams survived it either, since only 31 out of 33 teams reached the starting point. The second unofficial challenge of the day was to survive an unexpectedly cold morning while geared up for an exceptionally hot day. While at it, we also made some last-minute adjustments to our gear, locked and loaded our M-16s with some blank ammo, and mentally prepared ourselves for the tasks at hand (read - complained about how we didn't want to do it).

At exactly 0900L or 9AM ET for non-military folks, my team was finally given a green light. We briskly marched the first 500 yards to our first challenge - a Leadership Reaction Course. That's where an entire team had to solve an action puzzle based on one of many scenarios. In our scenario, we had to move a box of food concentrates across a contaminated stream over to the other side to save some starving people. The concentrates looked very much like red bricks and on closer inspection proved to be them. And of course, there was no bridge over the stream, just some randomly placed stumps, some not big enough for even one person to stand on them. There were some other details of the assignment that added to the challenge. We were given 5 minutes to come up with a plan and 15 minutes to execute it. Surprisingly, we completed the mission in 2.5 minutes! Even more surprisingly, we got a "NO-GO" on it! Why? Because we forgot that the concentrates aka bricks couldn't be exposed to air for more than 5 seconds at a time. If only we remembered to close the box every time a brick was added or removed!!!

A bit bummed, we left the Leadership Reaction Course and set off on our way to the next checkpoint, a Confidence Course. Some teams actually ran this 3-mile long stretch. Chris' team did. My team wisely decided not to get in over our heads and just walk as fast we could. 59 minutes and some seconds later we arrived at the obstacle course. This was not a timed event, but the points were taken off every time a team member failed to complete an obstacle. And there were plenty of opportunities to fail - 19 obstacles total. Some were ridiculously easy, such as crawling under a barbed wire, walking on balance beams, or moving through a scary-sounding "Nut Cracker" (it's on one of the pictures). Others were really challenging, such as a very long "Monkey Bars" obstacle, an incline wall, and a "Belly Buster". I am very proud to say that I passed all of the obstacles. But overall, my team did rack in enough penalties to set us back quite a lot. Nevertheless, our spirits were high since we knew we did our best and earned some bumps, bruises and cuts along the way that would guarantee us some admiration from our non-military friends and family.

After taking a short break, we set off on the next leg of our course to the IED lanes. Unfortunately, we lost one of our soldiers to a case of blisters. We knew that we would get some more penalties for loosing a team mate. And so we tried to move even faster to the IED (Improvised Explosive Device) lanes, some 3.8 miles away. And we did it, covering almost 4 miles in 54 minutes! Needless to say, we were pretty tired and hurting by then.

The IED lanes were probably the most interesting and the most challenging part of the entire competition. After a short break and a situation brief, we set off tactically (in a wedge formation, weapons at ready) on a narrow sand road into the palmetto underbrush. Some 300 yards into the patrol, our "point" (a forward person) noticed a canister that we suspected was an IED. Immediately we halted all movement, then moved back, set up the perimeter and called in with a report. We thought we were safe, but all of a sudden a second IED, this one much better camouflaged, went off right next to us. Our point person became a casualty. We had to react correctly, figuring out her injuries and providing first aid, calling for MEDEVAC, and then putting her on a litter and moving her 300 yards to a safe area. Now, that last part almost killed us all - carrying a 110-lbs casualty on a litter through loose sand and dirt is not as easy as it sounds. The 110 pounds become more like 1100 pounds and the 300-yard level road feels like an up-hill marathon. But we did it all from start to finish in 9 minutes and 25 seconds - not bad at all!

After catching our collective breath and drinking some water, we pressed on to our final challenge, only 1 mile away. We were so tired and aching! And the dirt road was killing us. But we all broke out into a run as soon as we caught a glimps of the finish line. And so we ran straight to our final challenge - disassembly and assembly of M-16s. I don't really remember much about this task other than we were tired, thirsty, my feet were killing me, and my hands were shacking as I was putting the parts back together. But apparently we finished it with little penalty.

Grateful for this thing to be over, we climbed on an old bus (no AC) and were driven (what a novel experience!!!) to the fun part of the day - a paintball game. On any other day it would be a great opportunity. But we were all very tired to really enjoy it. Still, we got off the bus, received our gear and a block of instructions on use of paintball markers, and set of on a foot patrol. Our first scenario was to react to a sniper attack. Right after it, without a warning, a second scenario - an ambush - kicked in. 5 minutes later, covered in sand, paint, and bits of green plastic from the balls, we returned to our bus.

After getting back to the barracks we had to immediately turn our weapons in and go to an award ceremony. Another team from my unit finished 1st. Chris' team got 2nd place. And I have no idea about my team except that we weren't in the top three. By the time we got to the barracks it was past 8pm (or 2000L for us military people).

It is Tuesday now. The sense of accomplishment and the feeling of pride subsided. What remains are the blisters, the bruises, and the sore muscles. Oh, yeah, and this is going to be an annual event. But no matter what, it was still a pretty freaking cool thing to do! Give me another couple of months to recover and I just might want to do it all over again!

Pictures

Too lazy to write. A picture is worth 1000 words, apparently. It takes me about 2 hours to write 1000 meaningful words. So I just saved myself (and you all) tons of time!

250,000 or so people in the stands watching the Daytona 500 Nextel Cup Race


Most of these people drove to Daytona (imagine the traffic). And plenty of those that drove, drove RVs (and then probably bitched about the cost of gas).


Blissfully oblivious of all the commotion in the area, Xander spent his Daytona 500 sleeping on the stairs.

An Update

I had a doctor's appointment today, just a normal follow-up one. I'm extremely pleased to inform the world that the MRI of my brain turned up marvelously (yes, I do have brain!); my blood test results are excellent; my weight is at a lower range of normal (for my height, age, and the proximity of my house/work to fast food places); and my bodyfat percentage is 19%! Isn't all this simply swell?!!!

In other news, Chris is still in Savannah. And I'm still trying to get over a little cold (or maybe a flu). Jimmy Johnson won the Daytona 500. Xander's grown a bit bigger. Elenora moved out of our house and into her own little studio apartment. Tanya got a cat, Boris, at a shelter and is now busy taking care of his health problems.

Army Annual Training - Part 2

I've made it back home last Saturday. Boy, am I happy to be back! Actually, our Annual Training (AT) wasn't too bad. The first week was slow and boring since we didn't have anything to do. But that's how port operations are in general; vessels get delayed, stuff happens. But when it rains, it pours! So the second week we were extremely busy offloading three vessels in a row.
But please, don't be thinking that we were breaking our backs lifting and carrying stuff or driving vehicles off the ramps. It's all done by civilians now. What do we get to do? Not much, really. We supervise. Mostly it's just standing around watching the civilian contractors do things and writing down the number of pieces of cargo they offloaded and the amount of time it took them. That's how they get paid. Another aspect of our job is to tell these civilians where to put the offloaded cargo so it is segregated by final destination. Each piece of cargo has a shipment label on it, very much like the ones on UPS and FedEx boxes, with a unique Transportation Control Number and whole bunch of other information about the piece. Well, these have to be scanned with handheld scanners that look very much like the ones at a Wal-Mart store. Then the information is fed into a big computer system that allows us to keep track of cargo at all times (ideally, of course). It's not a strenious job, scanning things. It's pretty much a point-and-shoot operation and a slow one as well.
But I wasn't doing any of this. My job is to make sure that all the hazardous cargo, such as oxygen cylinders, fire extinguishers, and gas residue in fuel cans, is properly marked, labeled, placarded, segregated, documented, and in general made safe to transport. When a vessel is being loaded, it is a pain in the neck kind of job. But it's not so bad on the offload. It does involve a lot of leg work. Hazmat certified specialists are always in short supply. I had to be everywhere - walking the decks of the ships, the container yard, the rail yard, and all the equipment staging areas. The Army doesn't make it any easier on you either. Consider this - my computer was in one building, but a copy machine and a fax were in a totally different building, 50 yards away. 50 yards sure don't sound like much until you have to walk back and forth twenty times every day.
I was still pretty happy doing this. It's really a very interesting job, working with hazmat. Makes you feel important and valued. I spent most of my days outside and that was a welcome change after months of working from home. Plus I had to work with many different people face to face: representatives from Army units, Coast Guards, civilian contractors, vessel crew. At my normal job I get to interact mostly with my cat and my computer screen, day after day after day. In short, I had so much fun that I didn't even mind getting up at 4:30-5 in the morning or work long days if necessary or even being out in the cold most of the day.
But I'm still glad to be home! First of all, I enjoy spending time with Chris and Xander way too much. And then, as I mentioned, the food was absolutely terrible. We had to eat at Denny's on a very limited budget for two whole weeks! Try to beat that! The last couple of days we didn't even bother going because we counldn't stand the same old grease any longer.

Army Annual Training - Part 1

I am not ignoring my blog or my promises of writing more stories. But I am away on a Army-sponsored trip to Jacksonville, FL. That's where our annual training is this year. Yes, it is not as exciting as some of our past training events (i.e. Holland and Germany), but it's not without its benefits. First of all, we've "been there, done that", so the stress level is way down. And second of all, we're only a couple of hours away from Daytona Beach. So Chris will be able to come up here for a day or two.

So far we haven't been busy at all. It's mostly because there's nothing to do right now. It's always like that with port operations. A couple of ships that we were supposed to work on are running behind schedule and will not arrive for another couple of days or so. And so for now our schedule is pretty relaxed. But don't you think that we just sit around the hotel and watch the TV. No way! Instead, we do go to a port every day for short classes on things such as contract supervision, RFIDs, and various equipment and software that Army uses to track its cargo shipments.

So far the one thing that totally sucks is food. We eat breakfast and dinner at a Denny's restaurant. We are not a very big group, but it takes at least an hour for breakfast and two hours for dinner - that's how slow the service is. And the food is terrible. Denny's menu is extremely unhealthy and not very diverse to begin with. But this particular Denny's can't make even this limited selection appealing. I will try to take some pictures of the food to put here. For now let me just say that the scrambled eggs are never cooked through, the french fries are served cold, the Coke-Cola float looks like raw sewage, and the pancakes are half-raw. On top of everything we are limited in our budget. We can't get anything over $6.50 for breakfast and $8.00 for dinner. That limits our selection even further.

But that's nothing compared to box lunches. Words fail me when I try to describe them. I'm going to just put a picture here. But I pitty the fool that really has to rely on them for lunch or dinner. Anyway, we don't eat anything out of these boxes except for trail mixes and crakers. Oh, and bottled water.

There's really nothing around our hotel. There's a Wendy's in the parking lot and sometimes we go there. Other than that, there is nothing around for miles and miles. And we don't have our cars here. So we're kind of trapped. Have I mentioned that so far we've seen 3 roaches in our room? (Yes, I have a roommate, but she's cool). I will continue these notes tomorrow if I am not eaten by hungry roaches.

Nina and Rolex 24

I am so tired right now that I can't even feel my feet. My poor toes are hurting very badly and my head is still spinning. It's been a heck of a day so far and it's only 5pm.

First thing in the morning (actually, it was around 10 am) we went to Halifax Harbor Marina to see an exact replica of Christopher Columbus' favorite ship, "Nina". It is, I must note, "the most historically correct Columbus replica ever built", according to the "Archaeology" magazine. And you have to trust those folks - they know more about the subject that I ever will. The original Nina was one of the three ships (the other two were "Pinta" and "Santa Maria") that sailed to America in 1492. "Nina" made the entire First Voyage, unlike less fortunate "Santa Clara" that sank of the coast of Hispaniola on Christmas Eve 1492. She also sailed on the Second Voage to Cuba and the only one that survived the hurricane of 1495. After being captured by a corsair, she was freed by its Captain and made it back to Hispaniola, this time as advance guard ship, on Columbus' Third Voyage. So it's a pretty venerable ship with a long and romantic history.
It was rebuild in Valencia, Brazil, in 1988 by an American John Sarsfield and a team of local shipbuilders, using only period tools. After its maiden voyage it was filmed in guess which movie? (No, not the "Starship Troopers") Yes, "1492"! Since then, the ship sailed to over 600 ports in the US. Its 93.6 feet of length feel surprisingly tiny. We have private yachts in the Marina that are bigger than "Nina". It was pretty amazing to walk the deck and imagine this tiny shell of a Caravel crossing thousands of miles of open seas and battling 20-foot waves.

We then drove just down the Beach Street to a new News-Journal Performing Arts Center. It was officially opened yesterday with a performance of "Beauty and the Beast" and a shampaign reception. But the tickets were too expensive. So instead we went on a free tour of the place today. It is not the most architecturally remarkable building and some of it is painted canary-yellow. Plus there's still some landscaping that needs to be done. But inside it's a whole different story. It has one of the most beautiful lobbies I've seen with a floor-to-ceiling glass wall with a panoramic view of Halifax River and the beach side. The main stage has fantastic acoustic and a lot of top-notch technology. It appears there isn't a single bad sit in the house! The place also serves as a gallery of art work for Florida artists.



Out in the sun again we proceeded through the arts and crafts fair to an portable rock-climbing wall. Now, I didn't care much to climb it. What I was after were the little trampolines with bungees. The whole thing works like this: You're strapped into a harness that's hooked on both sides to bungy cords. These are pulled tight enough so they almost lift you in the air. Then you jump, up to 20-25 feet in the air and slowly come down as the cords soften your descend. Most people think that this is for kids only, but it's perfect for adults as well, as long as they weight under 240 pounds. I went first and immediately started doing backward and forward flips. I even managed to do a double! It seems like an easy thing, but actually after about 30 seconds or so you get really tired and out of breath. And after a 3-minute ride is over, your feet feel like Jell-O. Chris also decided to join in on the fun and soon he was jumping and flipping.

After catching our collective breath and making sure that our stomachs returned to their proper places we went to our favorite place in the mall, Mr. Dunderbacks. It's a German-style deli that serves really great sandwiches and tiny potato cakes. They also sell whole bunch of gourmet cheeses, sausages, mustards, dressings, and different wines and beers, but these are all expensive. The place is tiny and always very busy. Inside it's made to look like an Octoberfest tent. All its decor is on sale, from deli items lining up every single inch of the walls to woven baskets hanging from the ceiling to plaques with smart-ass sayings all over the place. You might think that the best place to sit is at a little bistro-style table with tiled tops showing coats of arms of different German towns. But the best place is actually along a bar that runs the length of the establishment. I don't know why, it just is. Mr. Dunderbacks is a chain (we've seen it in Raleigh, NC as well). So if there's one near you, give it a try. Order "Der Red Baron" on rye or a ruben on pampernickel bread - they are really good. And don't forget the potato cakes!

Then it was time for Rolex 24. Actually, we were late since the race started at noon just as we were starting on our potato cakes (I'm telling you, they are that good). But it's a 24-hour race, so it's not like we were going to miss it anyway. We are not race fans and can't tell much about the cars or the drivers. Why go to a race then? Well, living in Daytona we worked the races before and I would always get curious about what it would feel like to be a spectator and on the inside of the track, not outside handing out T-shirts and credit card applications. Rolex 24 opens the Speed Weeks here and is the most affordable major race. The tickets normally cost $30-$50. That's for 24 hours and you can re-enter as many times as you wish. Now, Daytona 500 tickets are at least $150 each. Plus you can never find any parking for Daytona 500 and have to either walk 3-4 miles or pay up to $35 for a day and walk 1 mile. Only race fans do it. And we aren't them. But get this - we ended up paying only $10 each because we had military IDs (a student ID produces the same effect, so there's no need to run after your friendly Army recruiter). We walked to the infield and to the Fan Zone where there was a wine and cheese tasting in process. It's a new thing ISC is trying this year to appeal to a more refined crowd. There's still plenty of beer and a chilly cook-off right next door. Our cheap-o tickets didn't include entries to the garages, but those stay empty during the race anyway. Instead, we went past Lake Lloyd and past all the RVs and trucks and cars and people drinking beer and listening to the race on their scanners to where the Ferris Wheel was. There we bought tickets for a ride and got a bird's eye view of the entire Speedway. It was almost as great as flying in a helicopter, but much cheaper. Then we slowly made our way back to the car and drove home. We might still drive back for the fireworks a bit later.

3 Years

Wew, time to slow down and catch my breath here. These past few days were so busy, I had no time to even read a book (Lesly Downer's plain but informative "Women of the Pleasure Quarter: the Secret History of the Geisha"). Instead, Chris and I have been busy celebrating our third wedding anniversary.

Ok, so it's not a very big celebration. So what?! Look at it this way - considering that so many marriages fall apart every year, every successful year must be cherished and celebrated as if it was a major milestone. More than that, statistically, marriages are most susceptible to divorce within the first 5 years. So every year lived together is worth celebrating. And every year lived together well is worth almost having a parade and some fireworks. But we didn't want to have any of that stuff because we are laid-back and modest and don't like stressing people up by forcing them to wear costumes and hold baloons and march in parades. So instead we quietly celebrated by ourselves.

This year we decided to skip the whole gift-giving part. After all, Christmas and New Year's gift-hunting frenzy is still fresh in our minds. Instead, we chose an extended celebration over 3 days. Luckily, the circus was in town and they provided all the needed oompa and fireworks. So first we went to Barnum and Bailey's on Tuesday night. The show was at the Ocean Center, here in Daytona. This place is usually a dump, hosting stuff like Cheerleaders Competitions, proms for local highschools, and senior expos. But once in a while they have note-worthy events such as rodeos, motorcycles shows, ice-skating championships, and circus. Incidentally, this was a pretty good show with acrobats, a contortionist man, a juggler, flying trapeze people, an elephant, horses, alligators, 13-foot pythons, and sadly, with clowns (I really don't like clowns. The only thing that I like less than clowns in a circus is tamed bears).

On Wednesday night we went to the Melting Pot in Orlando. It's a fondue restaurant. It's really nice and low key. They don't serve a lot of food, but somehow you end up completely stuffed. And we even ordered chocolate fondue for dessert. So when our waiter asked if we needed anything else at the end of the evening, I requested a little cart to cart me out of there. But we could not possibly skip the dark chocolate Amaretto fondue flambeed tableside (that means a waiter sets fire to the liquor and tries not to trigger the fire alarms). Dipping a double-chocolate brownie into gooey yummy melted dark chocolate - try to beat this, all you Atkins dieters. Oh, and if you tell them that you're celebrating a special event, they will even snap your picture and put it in a little paper "Melting Pot" frame for you - for free. So if you're in one of those Melting Pots (it's a chain), just tell them you're celebrating something or other (they never check facts, kind of like newspapers). Oh, and their pictures are really good too; they must be using some sort of high-speed prettifying technology. I always look very cute on their pictures (and you know that in real life I have my homely moments and lots of them).

Oh, and yesterday we rounded the celebration up by going to a classical music concert at a Peabody Auditorium here, in Daytona Beach. They had Sofia symphony orchestra & chorus performing "Carmina Burana" and there was also Bulgarian ballet "Arabesk" performing along. And then they had the ballet performance of Ravel's Bolero. [Wikipedia has tons of interesting facts about Bolero, but do you know that some speculate that it's famous form was borne out of an onset of Alzheimer's decease?] Both are very famous works and are perfect for all sorts of celebrations of romantic events. Most of the crowd was way past their sexual prime (you know, it's Daytona Beach), but even these septa- and octagenarians appreciated the sexual energy of the dance. I just hope they forgot all about it by the time they got home (or else, old folks getting it on "Cocoon"-style - pretty disgusting!)

Oh, and then the opening chorus of "Carmina Burana", O Fortuna, just sends shivers down your spine! It's a bit depressive and dark, but hey, what follows is a lively romp through some hills and some dales and an occasional tavern or two and on to making out and such in the "Court of Love" part. Seriously though, it was a beautiful concert.


"O Fortune, like the moon of ever changing state, you are always waxing or waning; hateful life now is brutal, now pampers our feelings with its game; poverty, power, it melts them like ice.

Fate, savage and empty, you are a turning wheel, your position is uncertain, your favour is idle and always likely to disappear; covered in shadows and veiled you bear upon me too; now my back is naked through the sport of your wickedness.

The chance of prosperity and of virtue is not now mine; whether willing or not, a man is always liable for Fortune's service. At this hour without delay touch the strings! Because through luck she lays low the brave, all join with me in lamentation!"

Game 4 - His taste in women was...

His taste in women was just like his taste in wine. He drank it all, but he preferred beer. Not like he was "playing for the other team", you know, it's just he really preferred beer to anything else, including women.

He spent every evening at a tiny corner gas-station turned a watering hole. This place was so dingy, it deserved to be visited by him. It used to be a tiny two-pump gas station back in the days. At some point it quietly went out of business just as the neighborhood was turning into a slum where not that many people owned cars. Those that did oftentimes left the pump in a hurry without paying. Those that didn't either ignored a tiny convenience store inside or tried to rob it. And so the gas station was shut down and abandoned.

Some time later, new owners filled the front window with bricks, put bars on a tiny side window, painted the building white, put a row of bar stools inside and a picnic bench outside and hung strings of Christmas lights throughout. The no-name bar was open for business ever since. It had no parking lot and most regulars walked to it. Nor did it have a restroom which did not unfase same regulars in the slightest. A tattered menu in a greasy plastic case listed grilled cheese sandwiches, hamburgers and hotdogs as its only offerings. Friday night special was unlimited potato chips. The rest of the time it was peanuts for snacks. Bottles of ketchup and tiny yellow-green hot peppers crowded the bar.

He would come here every night, order a hamburger du jour smothered in a yellow-white mix of mustard and mayo and with a side of pickle straight from a 7-11 across the street. Or if he felt a bit adventurous, he would get a cold hotdog on a rather stale bun and sprinkle some relish on it. Invariably, he would ask for a Bud. And then another one. And another one. And so he ate his food and drank his beer and tried to make out what was said on a tiny 13-inch TV in the far corner. If there happened to be a woman, single and looking, next to him, he would strike up a conversation. Sometimes it ended up with him picking up just a tab, other times - with him picking up the gal as well. Neither one happened very often for this bar was not made to satisfy womansfolk tastes. But he never complained or tried to find a livelier place. He liked his women, but he really preferred beer.

Last Weekend

What did we do last weekend? Hmm, well Friday night was spent at Tanya's house. She came back to Daytona for a weekend and invited us over. And so we ate pizza (I mostly abstained since it had pork stuff all over) and drank beer (again, I abstained because of a headache). But don't you worry, I didn't leave hungry. There was cake there too!

On Saturday we decided to stop by the animal shelter to look at cats and dogs there. Yeah, we're secretly thinking about getting a play-pal for Xander because sometimes he drives us nuts when he gets bored. We also took some cat food and cat litter there. We saw a lot of really adorable cats, but didn't choose any one of them. We decided that Xan is still too young. Besides, he's pretty silly now and can't teach a new kitty anything but mischief.

Instead, we went to the mall because JC Penney had a big sale. First they discounted stuff 70% and then - another 40%. But even if they didn't have a sale, I would go anyway because I had nothing else to do. Oh, plus I really need clothes to wear. Unfortunately, buying clothes is tough. As I said many times before, Daytona Beach is not a fashion capital of the world or even Florida. We don't have any decent stores. So I ended up buying just one little top. It was originally $36, so the math wizards among us can quickly calculate how much did I buy it for. For those who don't have calculators laying around, it was $10 - a pretty good bargain.

The rest of the day we watched movies. Chris had to watch "Troy" for his class on Mythology. Then we tried to watch "Wedding Crashers" but the movie was so dumb and pointless that I couldn't stand it for more than 10 minutes. So instead we ended up watching "The Day Without Mexicans". It's a pretty good "mockumentary"-type movie. It's not especially funny or weird or thought-provoking. And it does lean to one side of the whole illegal immigration argument. However, it was way better than either "Troy" or "Wedding Crashers".

On Sunday we got all nerdy and went to our Arts and Science Museum to see mummies. In reality there were no mummies, just their sarcophagi and many interesting artifacts from Ancient Egyptian tombs. Egyptians were really fixated on the whole afterlife experience. So they put their best-made things in the tombs of dead people. But in their belief, they did not have to bury an entire 12-person china set in order for a dearly beloved to be able to invite other mummies to eat and drink in the afterlife. Instead, they would put miniture plates and cups in the tombs and hoped that those would be transformed into life-size things through magic. Same logic applied to the rest of the goodies. Also, they made little doll-like statues of their dead and placed them in the tombs as well. Why? Because whenever a dead person would be called to do some work in the afterlife, such as plow a field or heard cows or what have you, the mummy would make the little statue alive through magic and make it work instead. That's pretty sleek, if you ask me. I wouldn't mind having this little statue myself, in this life of course.

So with all the little statues and miniature utensils and models of granaries and boats and such, the whole exhibit looked like a ghostly toy story. It was pretty cool though and we were lucky to get there early since after noon the small museum was full of people, mostly with little kids.

Afterwards I tried to sign up for ice-skating only to find out that the classes at a local rink started a day before. Bummer. So then we tried to sign up for some dancing lessons. But the place was closed because it was a Sunday. Double bummer. Then we started walking around because the weather was so nice and warm and sunny. But a lot of stores and even restaurants were closed. Bummer-bummer-bummer, but that's life in Daytona Beach. So then we went to one place that stays open all the time - Barnes and Noble. And then - on to Target. And then - home to watch "Some Like it Hot".

The End.

Game 3 - You may have already won...

Life takes some funny twists and turns… A couple of weeks ago, just before Christmas, to be exact, I received a rather believable-looking, business-sized white envelope in the mail. As I mentioned before, my mailman tends to be rather disrespectful and rough with any correspondence that is outsized. So this letter, like so many others, bore signs of damage. It was addressed to me, but as for the sender, there was no address, just a word “Peerless” at the top. Additionally, the front of the envelope was stamped with “You May Have Already WON!” in bright red letters.

Everyone gets these annoying letters once in a while. They inform you that your name was randomly selected from a big all-knowing database at the Publisher’s Clearing House and therefore, you are about to get a million dollars, a house, a brand-spanking-new SUV, a 42” plasma TV, or some such cool prize. I don’t buy this anymore, not after ending up with 2-year subscriptions to Blender, Good Housekeeping, and Conde Nast Traveler. Oh, and I didn’t win that million after all. So in short, I throw these kinds of envelopes away unopened. Or I open them, find out about a prize, day-dream about it for the rest of the day, and throw the envelope out anyway. Why should this time be any different? And so I dropped it in the green recycling bin before opening the front door and forgot all about it. Again, that was right before Christmas.

Right before New Year, I was checking my e-mail and saw something from Peerless.com. Everyone gets these annoying e-mails once in a while. They flash pictures of 42” plasma TVs, brand-spanking-new SUVs, new houses, or what a million dollars in $20-dollar bills would look like. I don’t even open these e-mails anymore, not after spending hours unsubscribing from various newsletters and getting rid of viruses and Trojan horses. So I deleted this e-mail as well, marking it as junk. Again, that was right before New Year.

Yesterday, I was working when I heard a knock on a door. I ran downstairs and signed for a piece of registered mail with no return address, just a word “Peerless” at the top. That was most unusual indeed. I tore the envelope open and found a small letter advising me to call a toll-free number as soon as possible to claim my prize. I won!!! For the first time in my life, I actually won something!!! It took me maybe 15 seconds to grab the phone, but my whole future life flashed before my eyes, complete with a round-the-world trip and a shopping spree at Barnes and Noble. I dialed the toll-free number, and then entered the 8-digit winner’s confirmation code. “Good Afternoon and welcome to Peerless. My name is Sue.” I heard. I’ll name my first baby Sue, even if it’s a boy, I caught myself thinking…

To make the long story short, my first issues of Shape, Popular Mechanics, and Cooking Light will arrive in four to six weeks. As for my prize, I am still in the running.

Game 2 - Far, far away

Rules - Think of a person who really bugs or annoys you. Think of a place you'd like to send this person. Then - mentally - send them there! Start with: "The post card arrived..."

A post card arrived in my mailbox today. It was oversized and as it happened with all oversized mail that arrived at our place, it got bent and twisted mercilessly and mindlessly by a frustrated mailman. A crooked bend broke its glossy surface and revealed its soft white underbelly. The corners looked worn and the edges were unmistakably burnt. At the same time heavy water damage and something that looked like an oil stain managed to turn the picture into a kind of a Rorschach’s test on a flaming red background. The card definitely traveled a long way.

Too eager to look through my other mail, which included a new issue of the National Geographic, I hurriedly shuffled the card to the bottom of the mail pile and started walking home. The house was blissfully quiet and Xander kept out of sight. “He’s in a garage, hiding in shame”, I thought fleetingly about my crazy cat. Earlier today we had a big argument over his constant mewing and a broken vase and I advised him to go straight to hell.

I set all the mail on a tiny bistro table that served us as a dining table and a convenient surface for dumping daily papers, mail, keys, stray pens, and empty cups. Something red and glossy fell on the floor. It was the post card. Mechanically I leaned over to pick it up and became frozen in place as I read the following message in red ink on the back of it.

“Dear Yelena,

Don’t worry about me. I am in a Hell of a place and having tons of fun. Everyone here understands me perfectly well and provides me with hours of entertainment (something you couldn’t find time for). I got here on a special HELLicopter that arrived to pick me up just as you wished me to come here. So thank you for HELLping me. There are plenty of cats and kittens HELLd here and we all run around and play. There are also many interesting places to go explore and smell and chase and nobody minds if I make a mess or break things. People here all have to be very nice to us cats and pet us and play with us on demand for as long as we want to. We also get to scratch and bite them and mew in their ears. Also, every time we break something, and there’s always stuff to break into catzillion little pieces, they get to run HELLter-skelter and pick up the pieces and glue them back together. People get really funny about all this. They also have to learn cat language, the CATalogue, so they can better understand our CATcalls. So all the newcomers are made to watch our favorite Hell channel, the CATV, until they learn. Also some people here have to clean our giant litter box. This is called “the ultimate punishment” and is reserved for some really bad people. In short, they are CATerers for us cats.

I am one of the smartest cats here too. I taught others tons of entertaining things, like sticking their noses into every mug, stealing the glue-sticks, ambushing and tripping people and doing other CATastrophic things. Everyone knows and loves me. When people see me, they run! It’s CATegorically because they want to be the first to pet me and hear me mew.

I must say, it gets a bit hot here sometimes and then I think of a nice cool tile on your living room floor. So maybe I’ll be coming back home soon. Until then, I’m sending you my loudest and proudest MEWWWW!

Xander, the HELLbender

Game 1 - A Little Gerbil

A set-up is to write a short (up to 1 page) story that has words Alabama, insensitive, and massage in it and that starts with "Sometimes I feel like a gerbil running around and around in his wheel."

And so it goes:

Sometimes I feel like a gerbil running round and round on his wheel! Now if I were a gerbil, I imagine I would be a particularly small and whiny one with tiny little whiskers and an uncommonly bushy tail. I would also try to run both forward and backward at the same time just to keep a little boy or a little girl who owns me happy. And I would also try to calculate my angular acceleration while contemplating the existential absurdness of the wheel itself, just because. I would end up getting my little uncommonly bushy tail caught between the spokes and I would bump into a rim of the wheel with my pink and slightly crooked nose. I would be a clumsy little bugger for sure.

As such, my wheel world is limited to work and to my house. But since I work from my house, my world is even tinier and it’s getting increasingly tougher not to bump my pink and slightly crooked nose on the edge of it. Maybe that’s why I spend so much time dreaming up the amazing trips I would take if I only could. Some of them don’t even have to be particularly exotic. They can be say trips to Alabama, especially after I watched “Forrest Gump” last Christmas. Plus now that I have my laptop I can work from the road.

Work-work-work… That’s what makes this world go round in a manner of gerbil’s wheel. It’s not even the money any more. Or how would you explain some of us staying with lower-paying jobs instead of exploring other opportunities? It’s more about routine, even in non-routine jobs. The whole idea of knowing that you are going to be doing something supposedly productive for eight solid hours a day warms one’s heart. How depressing are some of the weekends and holidays, when we get thrown out of our regular schedules! Work-work-work… Whatever it takes to become insensitive to the little tiny voice inside that urges you to get a round-the-world ticket on Travelocity departing tonight or to jump in a car and drive straight to the Grand Canyon or to even bike to the beach and spend a day staring at all the vacationers who got two-week reprieves from their own little wheels. Stay quiet little voice, stay quiet, or a big hungry cat will come and eat you!

I am a small whiny gerbil with tiny little whiskers and an uncommonly bushy tail. I am thoroughly committed to the values and the will of my wheel. Oh, my feet are so tired from running countless circles. My shoulders are aching. Oh, I would give half of my wheel for a good massage. And I would rock myself to sleep in the other half of my wheel, now looking like a cradle. My head is spinning… That must be an even tinier gerbil running its butt off calculating its own angular acceleration while contemplating the existential absurdness of it all. Run little gerbil, run!

Writing Exercise - Explanation

Well, Chris got me this gift card to Barnes and Noble so I could buy any book(s). Of course, my wish list is about 3 pages long, but it's on Amazon. So I go on Amazon to retrieve the book info from my wish list and then try to find it on Barnes and Noble website. The problem is Amazon is much cheaper plus I can buy a lot of books real cheap if I buy them used. I just can't seem to bring myself to spending $20 on a book that I can have for about one-third the price, even if I pay for it with someone else's money (a gift card). So I've been willy-nilly about using my card for a while now. But yesterday we went to B&N store and I found this book, "Write Brain", full of writing exercises. There are 366 of them to be exact. Now, I'm not saying that I'll definitely be writing every single day now; weekends are definitely a time off! But I will try to do as many exercises as possible. And I'll post some of them, or maybe even all of them, on my blog.

A Saga about the New Year's Party and Other Events

And so as usual, Friday the 30th of December, was shaping up to be a slow day. Boss promised to let us go early. We were all in high spirits and I was making tons of cooking, cleaning, last-minute shopping, etc plans. And so as usual, I ended up working until just past 6pm! Worse yet, I was so tired and pissed off that I couldn't even think about the unfinished house chores. And so most of it was left until the next day.

I started my last Saturday of the year unusually early, stirred by the thought that the house was still not ready for the New Year and the food was not cooked. Now, it's not like we were hosting a party at our place, so what would it matter if the floors were clean or not. Well, it is more of a ritual than a necessity, I suppose, for me to clean every nook and cranny of the house right before the New Year. And so, with a lot of help from Chris, the house was sparkling like a New Year tree (which we didn't have this year because of Xander's tendency to tag on, bite, and destroy anything that's left out there for tagging on, biting, and destroying). What's a New Year tree? Well, it's a Christmas tree for people raised in the Soviet Union where Christmas and other religious holidays and their symbols were replaced with more secular ones.

I performed wanders of multi-tasking and not only finished all the cleaning (including washing the windows, scrubbing bathrooms, organizing closets, etc) and laundry, but also cooked some holiday dishes. When the question was decided as to where to celebrate the New Year, we pretty much had little choice. Our place was out of the question since we have only enough furniture for 2 people and only enough table ware for 4 people. Tanya's house would do nicely, with its comfy furniture, huge fireplace, a piano (for drunken sing-alongs) and a pool table (for those who don't participate in drunken sing-alongs). Unfortunately, Tanya was out of town. And so Albina's place became the most natural choice. Her condo, even though small, is on the 15th floor or a beachside condo tower with unobstructed views of both the ocean and the river. Most of the Port Orange and Ponce Inlet can be seen and on good clear days you can easily see the lighthouse and even New Smyrna. In short, it's awesome! And even though there's no room to fit a piano, she's got a karaoke machine and several DVDs with Russian karaoke. That's even better, since none of us can play piano to save our lives.

Well, anyway, since it was shaping up to be a traditional Russian New Year (poor Chris ended up being the only American at the party), the menu was appropriately traditional. Albina was going to make a couple of salads, including a huge bowl of the Olivier salad, meat and potatoes, and bought a Russian cake. And so I decided to make beet salad, called Vinaigrette Salad, and Herring under Fur Coat. Yes, that's the name of the salad. Many Americans, including my husband, find salted herring quite disgusting. But it's really dressed up (in "fur coat") and disguised very well in this salad. Chris didn't notice the herring until I told him that it was there. Basically, making this salad involves covering chopped herring filets with layers of boiled and grated vegetables (potatoes, carrots, and beets) and mayo. Follow the link for the recipe and a great picture. My only suggestion is go light on mayo - I only put two layers of it, one on top of carrots and the other one - on top of beets - and it was perfect. This salad looks really great and impressive, but takes time. Fortunately, here in America one can buy herring filets that are already de-boned and ready to be cut.

I decided to prepare Chris's favorite Pistachio Salad not only as an outlet for him, but also to bring something new and American to the otherwise purely Russian table. This salad is fun and super-easy to make. It doesn't require any chopping or any other preparations. Everything comes straight out of a box or a can. In short, it's so perfectly American, that I'm going to officially call it the American Dream salad (easy, sweet, smooth, and its light green color reminds one of American dollars). I got the recipe from Gradma Phyllis.

The original plan for the New Year celebration included stopping by a club or two on the way to Albina's. Unfortunately, I realized, belatedly as usual, that I had nothing to wear to a club (most can relate to this, right?). Even more unfortunately, I live in Daytona Beach, where we have one tiny shopping mall. But most unfortunate was the fact that our shopping mall NEVER has clothes are are both stylish, affordable and that fit me. I did go and honestly tried to find a nice dress or a top. Alas, after 3 hours of running from store to store, I gave up and headed home to finish my preparations. So the club thing got cancelled.

Instead we arrived at Albina's place a bit earlier. Soon other guests arrived, 10 in all. Two that I must make a note of were Yelena and her daughter, Yelena. They proved to be the most fun, in sharp contrast with Alla and her "недоросль" son. We started off with a round of drinks and a buffet arrangement of all the foods. Both Yelenas, Albina and I were all in favor of karaoke. Eleonora and my husband chose wisely to be on our side. But Alla objected on the grounds of this kind of entertainment being rude, crude, and unprofessional (I think she's missing the whole point of karaoke). Since we all live in a democratic country, the issue was put to a vote and the majory ruled to start karaoke. For about an hour it was just me and one of Yelenas, since Albina was too busy running between the kitchen and the living room. We sang on, Alla's comments about our unprofessionalism and insufficient voice talent nonwithstanding. Eleonora joined us albeit without a mic (she's shy like that). And as more drinks were consumed, Chris began to read aloud some of the karaoke lines.

Of course, at some point we stopped to eat and generally catch our collective breath. And we did it just in time because it was 10 minutes to midnight. So we filled our flutes with champaign, switched TV to some news channel to watch the ball drop on Times Square in NY, and helped Reggis Philbin count down from 10 to "Happy New Year!". Afterwards we all ran out on the balconies (there were two) for a semi-panoramic view of fireworks over Port Orange, Ponce Inlet, and South Daytona. I secretly made a wish to win a lottery and buy a penthouse somewhere on the coast with a panoramic views just to watch sunrises, sunsets, and fireworks.

After the fireworks we started watching some Russian videos. It was fun, but not nearly as much fun as karaoke. I was tired and Chris was trying very hard not to fall asleep. And so we wished everyone happy New Year one more time and went home.

First day of the New Year was so perfect that it made me re-think my idea of moving away from Florida. Big blue sky and weather hot enough for sun-bathing is nothing to sneeze at! Having a job is great, having a beach to escape to is even better! We bought some Starbucks and walked on the beach, just talking and watching vacationers. Then we went to see "Chronicles of Narnia and it was just great - a perfect winter-time fairy tale that's not just beautifully filmed, but romantic and suprisingly mature in its themes.

The second day of the New Year was even more perfect. It was a bit less hot, but sunny and calm. We had no specific plans and so decided to explore Cassadaga. It's a very small town, rather a village, about 20-minute drive west from Daytona Beach. It is most famous for being a year-round camp for all sorts of psychics, fortune tellers, Taro readers, aura readers, and spiritualist. So if you need to get your palm read, drive to Cassadaga any day, walk into a small bookstore right across the street from the Cassadaga Hotel and use their courtesy phone to call psychics on-duty (their names and numbers are displayed on a dry-erase board in the store) to make an appointment. The day we visited there were only two psychics on call, but several places had the "Open" signs. It's always best to call ahead not only to discuss the rates, but to make sure that you wouldn't be interrupting someone else's reading.


We didn't get our fortunes read, but instead walked around the town for a little bit. The place is actually very tiny and can be seen in less than 2 hours of very leisurely walking. The houses are mostly old and traditional, not at all unkempt, except for a few, but wearing a mysterious patina of age. The gardens are all overgrown and promisingly charming with tiny fountains, sparkling globes, garden decorations, and "Psychic X-sing" signs here and there. The quietness of the sidestreets is interrupted with soft purrings of cats sunning themselves on porches and with sounds of wind chimes. There are several parks in this tiny town, the best one being Colby Park just a short walk from both the hotel and the bookstore. It's just a very serene and relaxing place, that's it. And DeLand, with all its bars and restaurants and nice little shops and historic buildings is only a short drive away. So sure, we went to DeLand afterwards, but most of the nice little places were closed for the New Year's. But it was a nice day nevertheless and a nice ending to our long holiday.