Peanut Butter Supplies at Critical Lows

Peanut butter. Do you take it for granted? I can almost guarantee that if you're an expat, you do not. We hoard the stuff and it is difficult to find in Russia. For me, a spoonful of peanut butter helps the oatmeal go down. That with a few raisins thrown in is a comfort food from childhood. But peanut butter is out of stock at the moment. Except for the one choice, below. . .

Sad isn't it. Here we are in the ice cream section, where peanut butter is stocked but there's one lonely little jar sitting there, left. It's from France. It doesn't even speak Russian. We. Or Wii. Or Oui Oui. Nor do I. But there it is. See that's $7.70 for that jar (235 rubles w/ 30.5-ish rubles to the dollar) and it has a different taste. It reminds of peanut butter-flavored icing. Say, let's go check in the honey section.

Here we are in the Department of Honey. Click to enlarge because of course you want to see this yourself. ;) It's mostly honey but at the bottom left, there is some peanut butter squirreled away. But it's that French variety again. They call it pate because they're kind of fancy, even with peanut butter.

Seems as though twice a year, this big supermarket gets a shipment of peanut butter from Kentucky. It comes crunchy, smooth or light. I go for the crunchy, thank you for asking, komrads. So I stop by regularly to see if they're restocked so I can hoard. It's not inexpensive and it's not light to haul it home but, boy howdy, it's so good stirred into that bowl of steamy hot oatmeal. And in breakfast burritos with mashed banana and raisins. But to each her own.

Well, this honey is reminding me of something back across the store. Come along, please. May I call you Honey? Oh, that was my mother's nickname as a child. Honey. And according to family legend, that's the only name she would answer to at home. Funny though, we got away with calling her Mom. Come to think of it though, I'd gladly call her Honey, if that meant having a few precious moments together. . . Just realized that if my dear mother where still in the land of the living, I wouldn't even have to think about peanut butter, she'd be sending it to me regularly. Now that I'm complaining, you understand, just wistful.

Here's the Department of Honey from the Don Region, not to be confused with that commercially canned stuff from who knows where. Seems as though the Queen Bee of this little department has zipped on home for the evening but that doesn't stop us from looking. Look, all different kinds of local honey made from various flowers in the area. And I had to take this picture pretty fast because, well, there were reasons. . . let me just say that sometimes in these parts, we gotta be surreptitious about things.

Honey or nyet, there's no real peanut butter to be found in this store, and if it's in any other store, that's a well kept secret. You know, I used to haul jars of it from the US back to Rostov, back in the days when we were allowed two 70-pound bags on international flights. And I remember bringing back lots of peanut butter, thanks to cousin Earl who's with Smuckers, and they do peanut butter in a big way. But those days are history because can you believe, there are things more important to pack than peanut butter.

Interestingly, over the years, several packages sent me from the US have never arrived. Mysterious, yes. Those packages had one thing in common: They each contained a jar of peanut butter. Hmm, maybe the guys at the customs office have started adding peanut butter to their oatmeal, too. ;)

Random Russian Sights on an Autumn Evening

Glory be, tram fares in Rostov-on-Don have gone up from nine rubles to ten. So with the current exchange rate - 31 rubles to the dollar - that's from 29 cents up to 32. See, I leave the country and inflation runs rampant. Which it does, regardless. But anyway, we're on the tram now, so let's enjoy the sights.

The main sight here is. . . folks getting on and some major discussion between the driver and lady about her transport pass.

Grabbed this picture quick like with my new little camera (Thanks dear JTO!) that's rather unobtrusive and easy to whip out in seconds. I was hoping for a quick little shot that nobody much would notice. Shortly thereafter, I spotted a police officer standing just two meters behind me and he was quite aware. I like to think that he was off-duty, anxious to get home to dinner. . .

Oh, here's my tram ticket. With the increased fares, guess they're giving out tickets again. Reminded me of an amusing Russian tradition I'd heard about years ago. I turned to the lady behind me to confirm. She smiled and explained that back during her childhood it was a fad to add up the first three black numbers. And if that sum is equal to that of the last three numbers, you're in for some good luck. But, only if you eat your ticket. That's right. Open wide and down the hatch. See, feels lucky already, doesn't it? Oh, well maybe next time we'll win. . .

Down off the tram and heading toward the Rostov Regional Library. In its shadow is this collection of used books: think Half-Price Books a la Rus. And look what we have here, the magazine, *Америка,* all about America circa 1978. Let's zoom on in.

Well my stars. . . and stripes. Here's our Abraham Lincoln. Never know who you're going to run into here in Rostov. Excuse us Abe, but we've gotta hurry along. Continuing on into the library, we head to the Department of Foreign Language where the English Discussion Club meets. Oh, what an interesting evening. . .

After our meeting, about half the group tromped together down Pyshkinskaya Boulevard and here we are. These young ladies are all quite fluent in English and they want to practice their English. They need to practice their English, but not nearly as much as I need to practice my Russian!

Welcome to McDonald's. It's quite the place to go, brimming with tech-savvy college students using the free WiFi. Besides that, the menu regularly features new menu items. Here McDonald's is introducing two new sandwiches to celebrate Mediterranean Weeks. On the left is Fresh Italian with crab, on the right is your basic Fresh Italian. Hamburger, that is. Which will you be having today? Myself, I went with the crab and it was pretty good.

Thank you dear friends for sharing a glimpse into life in Rostov-on-Don. I'm so grateful for the privilege of being here and serving as your tour guide from time to time.

Just wondering: Have you ever eaten a ticket for good luck? Or for additional dietary fiber? Have you ever run into a US President overseas? How do you plan to celebrate Mediterranean Weeks?

It's a New Hip, Officer, Not a Weapon

Dear Blog-reading Friends,

Glory be ~ it's been waaay too long since I've posted regularly! A blog should be updated weekly, you know, that's the rule of thumb. Unless. . . unless ~ and I'm making this part up ~ unless a person is recovering from hip replacement surgery. Which I AM! And dear reader, you've been waiting oh-so-patiently for the scintillating details (as if) and I thank you a thousand times over because blog-reader stats are as high as ever. Not that I'm into checking on that very often. Certainly no more than hourly. Oh, but I jest. . .

Surgery's nothing to laugh about, but let me tell you, dear friends, that I'm all smiles. Bottom line, five-plus weeks after surgery, I've been walking without a cane for 2 weeks. Even more impressive, I haven't needed a single pain pill since surgery. No pain ~ ever! That's thanks to Dr Mack Lancaster, super-star orthopedic surgeon with Baylor Hospital, Dallas.

Dr Mack, as his fans call him, has a new-fangled approach to hip replacement. His technique makes it almost like a party. Almost.

Here's Dr Mack with a typical replacement joint of titanium and ceramic. Just between the two of us, I'd been hoping for a joint that would cause minimum fuss at airport security. But alas, with these long-lasting replacement parts, I'm looking at a lifetime of being thoroughly frisked at airports. Get used to it, girlfriend.

Dr Mack is legendary: He does 350 to 400 hip replacements a year. His minimally invasive approach separates muscle rather than cutting through it. That approach makes for quick recovery. And quick recovery works for me.

Meet Pamela Gamble, Physician's Assistant:

Twelve days post-op, I had an appointment with Pamela Gamble, PA. She's always right there, in the middle of the action, helping out with surgery too. I liked Ms Gamble just fine until she told me exactly what I did not want to hear.

Okay if I get back to running?

Noooo. Not unless you want to go through all this again in 10 to 12 years. And only if you're being chased by a bear. And no trampolines either.

So that's that. Not that I'm surprised. But still. . .

Then Ms Gamble shared with me this fetching photo, a glamour shot, in a way.

This x-ray, 12 days post-op, is what convinced me that surgery really did happen. That the whole experience was more than Baylor Hospital's throwing me a party with flowers, cards and lots of attention. Not that I'm complaining, you understand. . .

Oh, let's rewind a bit. On the third day after surgery, I got to go home. Actually, I went to Fred and Carol's home. This wonderful family was the core of the Get-Eileen-Well team.

I've known Carol since our undergrad days when we were barely acquaintances. She was a summa-cumma type ~ that's how I like to refer to those academic superstars ~ and 35 years later, her smarts are intact. Carol knew instinctively what I'd need for recovery at home long before I'd even thought of it. But anyway, here we are at Baylor Hospital, Dallas, the evening of surgery.

Carol hired dear Katherine, a nursing student on vacation, who helped several hours a day for the first two weeks. Katherine was a God-send. She read to me while I did those all-important but ho-hum post-op exercises, ran errands - including running hither and yon to get the handicapped parking permit, chauffeured me to church, ironed my clothes and lots more.

Meet Shannon, Physical Therapist:

Shannon and his wife Jill are physical therapists who make house calls. Shannon came three times a week for two weeks, checked on my progress and taught me skills such as how to walk with a walker and then with a cane and later how to manage a flight of steps. But it was Jill, bless her heart, who added two exercises ~ the clam and the bridge ~ to the hospital's list of 15-some exercises to be done at least twice daily. That Jill is merciless, I'm telling you. ;)

But it was worth it. You're a super star, one of the therapists proclaimed, at the end of our two weeks together. Oh yippee, an A+.

Rewinding a bit more, my hospital stay was not without entertainment. Exhibit one: Bob McAffee and George Miller from Prestoncrest Church of Christ, my beloved sponsoring congregation. I'm indebted to Bob and George for bringing me many gifts, in a way. Bob gave me keys to the church van. And then George gave me a 4-footed cane, a walker, a bathtub bench and lots more. All these gifts I've had to give back, of course. But still, how many people get to use their boss's bedside potty? If that doesn't inspire loyalty, what will?

Lucky me, more visitors! There's dear Karen, left, who brought a stack of magazines and books. And then Steve and Stephanie, with son Sergei. This dear family has invited me to stay in their guest bedroom and be Aunt Eileen to Sergei, their bundle-of-energy imported last summer from Ukraine.

Oh and there's Caroline, left. She and Carol smuggled into the hospital a Mint-Oreo Blizzard from Dairy Queen. Now that's dedication. And then there's wonderful Robert and D.G., who used to go by Don until he decided to get all fancy and go by his initials. I answer to DG too, he's one of my missions heroes at Prestoncrest.

The walls of Dr Mack's office are adorned with speed skaters, ice skaters and such. And as much as I admire folks who can skate and envy folks who can run ~ even when no bear's involved ~ I'm beyond grateful to be walking without pain. I.Can.Walk! I hope that I'll always be grateful for the gift of mobility and never take it for granted. And the day will come ~ of this I'm quite confident ~ the day will come I will be able to walk f-a-s-t! Not today. Not tomorrow. But someday. Hip, hip, hooray!

Thank you to Dr Mack and his top-notch crew at Orthopedic Associates of Dallas!

How about you, dear blog reader, any experience with hip replacement? Any experience fussing with airport security about embedded metal parts? Expect that I'll have some new stories to share on this topic in the very near future. ;)

Soviets Send Dogs into Space: Fifty Years Ago Today

On this day in 1960, Belka and Strelka ~ that is Whitey and Arrow ~ were sent into orbit as the first Soviet space travelers to return safely to earth. Another story entirely is how one of Strelka's descendants got into the White House as Caroline Kennedy's pet.

Belka and Strelka closely followed in the pawprints of Little Laika, who had made history as the first Soviet space martyr. And then following spring, Yuri Gagarin became the first cosmonaut, in April 1961. Gagarin quipped that he didn't know who he was: the first human or the last dog in space. Thanks to Russia Today for this fascinating video about today's heroes, Belka and Strelka.

A salute to Kyle at Windows to Russia for his great post on the story.

And the Winners Are...!

We have three winners! (Blog in progress. . . ) Last night, Sergei ~ more about him in a minute ~ drew the names of our winners. A piece of this dinnerware will go to each winner. This pottery is made in the Rostov area and it's shipped across Russia, I'd reckon. . .

So here are the prizes: From left, the *Cash Stash* (AKA ash tray), ceramic picture (or spoon rest) and salt dish (or holder of rings and things).

Meet Sergei. He was the right person to draw names. You see, Sergei was born in the Ukraine, immigrated to the U.S. last year and now lives in Dallas. All with some help from his wonderful new mom and dad. ;) Any-who, Sergei announced that Winner #1 is "V!" So, V, you get the little plate with the Orthodox church! (Dear V, please contact me at eileen.emch@gmail.com ASAP with your mailing address!)

Winner #2 is JEANETTE! So you get the *cash stash!* Yeah Jeanette! (Please contact me with mailing information!)

And. . . Winner #3 is Susan and Mark. So you get the salt dish that you wanted! Please contact me ASAP (eileen.emch@gmail.com) with your mailing address!

Here's Sergei as per his refrigerator photo. He loved drawing the winners. But, bless his sweet Slavic soul, he was near tears feeling the pain of those who didn't get a prize! His mom and dad, Steve and Stephanie, wisely explained that the non-winners wouldn't be sad ~ in fact, they would be happy for those whose names were drawn. Right?