Care Package from the USA: Bane or Blessing?

So what can we bring you when we come back for the boys?

I was talking with a neat couple from southern California who were in Rostov for an adoption visit. I had helped them a bit and they wanted to show appreciation.

What do I want from the US?

Listen carefully dearly beloved, those are the golden words, the absolutely most beautiful words to the ears of any expatriate. And the answer was easy. Really, really easy.

I want file folders. I need file folders. Throw in a PayDay candy bar and a magazine or two – People, Good Housekeeping, something light - right off the rack and that would do me a world of good. Especially the PayDay.

That was mid-January.

Neat Couple returned last week to get their boys and invited me to Hotel Rostov to get the goodies. Two packages of file folders and indeed, they are beau-ti-ful!

And then there was the candy. We need to talk about the candy. First, there was not one Payday in the bunch. Not to worry though. There were packages of Butterfingers, Babe Ruths, Junior Mints, 100 Grand, Reese’s peanut butter something new-fangled, Twix. Oh yum. Yummy, yum yum.

Decisions, decisions. What to do with all that candy. In the interest of health and safety, I decided to sample one of each for quality assurance. Hard to know how high altitudes and crossing of time zones might affect the goods. Fortunately – or unfortunately depending upon ones perspective – the quality was excellent. So far, so good.

Then I buckled down to work on my long-overdue newsletter, a project which brings me considerable strain and trauma. Not to mention mental anguish. It really is one of the hardest things I do. During all that I realized what comfort the Butterfingers would bring. And they were calling to me from the other end of the house. I could hear them through the plastic bags and the cabinet in which I had hidden them. It was that loud, truly. Just three of those little Butterfingers couldn’t hurt all that much. . .

Well, things went downhill from there. By the time evening came, I was in a sugar-induced stupor. Let’s make that a self-inflicted, sugar-induced stupor (SiSiS) and I needed help.

I called for intervention.

Hello? My name is Eileen. I’m a sugaraholic and I need help.

I’ll be right there.

The voice belonged to Andrey, the neighbor kid downstairs. He knew exactly what to do with all that candy. He and his buddies would handle chocolate faster than you can say sugar diabetes.

That wasn’t the first time Andrey and his family have helped me out. Thank goodness for neighbors, eh?

Hold on, hold on. Do I hear my name? It’s those pesky file folders, feeling abandoned. Oh do they smell fresh and crisp. Paper, a cellulose product, a source of roughage perhaps? Just a tiny little nibble surely couldn’t hurt anything. What a concept – fat-free file folders! (FF- FF)

Neat Couple probably will never understand how much I got into the care package they brought. Yep, absolutely devoured it.

This is my office. See how much I trust you ~ with all this information? But surely you agree that file folders would be useful to organize all this.

These are photos are of my office exactly as it is, not one little thing done to makie it tidier for this little photo shoot. As embarrassing as it is though, it's more attractive than the extra kilogram that has shown up on my bathroom scale since then.

Surely I'm not alone in this. What particular food that you have learned to stay away from? Other than Russian caviar, of course. ;)

The Serpent at the Carwash: A Most Embarrassing Moment

This morning I happened upon a favorite site, Confessions of a Pioneer Woman and noticed a sort contest for Most Embarrassing Moment with 2,993 responses overnight. That site, and it's companion, Pioneer Woman Cooks both are quite entertaining although occasionally a bit earthier than I'd prefer.

Anyway, I didn't make the deadline for submitting my little story at 9:00 pm, Pacific Time. But hey, there's nothing stopping me from sharing it here with you! Many of the entries there involve bodily function or clothing malfunctions - and we've all been there, haven't we? So my story is quite different, about an adventure at the carwash.

If you have ever had an embarrassing moment, please share it. Or, I should say, please feel free to share one appropriate for polite company. And considering the nature of this blog, stories involving travel or cross-cultural experiences will be a great match.

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The Serpent at the Carwash: A Most Embarrassing Moment

Late one snowy evening in a land far away, I was returning home from some fancy function dressed to the hilt in my new black coat with raccoon collar and high-heeled boots. Problem was, my new Chevy Cavalier was a salty mess from the sloppy roads and I decided that cleaning it could wait not one minute longer.

Lucky me, I happened upon a spray-jet car wash, no lines and no waiting. The floor was a frozen slab of ice but I’d be careful. I fed a handful of quarters into the coin slot and started with the foaming brush, washing through the grime to the enamel, metallic sable, they called it. I had still managed to be ladylike, keep my hands clean and remain upright. So far so good.

Next for the high pressure wash. The wand had been left on the ground by the previous customer and, because in those days I was keen on time and motion management, rather than retrieving the wand and retracing my steps to the control panel, I simply turned the control to high pressure spray as I headed toward the wand.

To my absolute horror, before I reached it, the spray wand sprang to life, not unlike a snake – a cobra, perhaps – writhing back and forth as if charged by high voltage electricity.

It whipped from side to side between the wall and the car, pummeling the car door and spraying water everywhere. Subduing that evil serpent was no easy task but eventually it was I who stood triumphant, sort of, soapy water dripping off my hair and nose.

I looked around ever so casually, hoping-hoping-hoping that no one waiting at the nearby stoplight had observed my gyrations. I glanced at the car door, now dimpled and felt absolutely sick.

In a quantum leap of logic, I imagined being observed by a bus full of Japanese tourists waiting at the stoplight there in Warren, Ohio. I could hear the tour director with her narration, And now ladies and gentleman, on the left we have a popular American innovation, the do-it-yourself carwash. Look, even now a young lady is there washing her car. Oh my. Poor dear, she seems to be having some difficulty.

Ladies and gentlemen, please don’t judge all American women by the one you see here. As for this young lady, I understand that alternative plans are in place. We hope to send her to a land far, far away. To Russia perhaps. And there she can use public transport and never again will we have to worry about her abusing a car at the carwash.

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Okay, now it's your turn. What adventure or misadventure have you brought upon yourself over the years. . . ;)