Getting mail from an old you

Before leaving Russia, I mailed 6 packages home. Books, dictionaries, 10 months worth of notes from classes. All the heavy stuff that would have had me paying ridiculous amounts of money in various airports. At the post office, the woman told me, with a totally straight face, that they would arrive in the states in about a month. I contained my laughter until I made it out the door and had serious doubts about ever seeing my beloved 501 Russian Verbs book again. But apparently they got their act together – I’ve received 3 packages in the last 4 days. Faithfulness in the least expected places, I tell ya.

Flipping through my notes and text books brings a strange wash of emotions. Once upon a time, I wrote my grocery list in Russian, just because I wanted to. Here, on my desk, are hundreds of pages covered in a different language. It’s mind-boggling to remember I would go for days without speaking English. The thought is unfathomable now.

Fighting the “my life exists in a toilet bowl” thoughts has been a Thing this week. I have lots of purpose, sense and calling, schemes, dreams … they’re just not arriving as quickly as I’d like them to. Or I’m unsure of how to make my way towards them. What is the means to my end, anyway?

As always, the questions come quickly and effortlessly; answers, considerably less so.

And now, to lighten the mood …

A brief refresher
Chocolate: the best, no matter what other atrocious things are in it
Vanilla: bland but edible
Strawberry: full of chunks of fake fruit that proceed to squirm between your teeth and stay there for eternity

My life, according to ice cream:

Watching Lars and the Real Girl … cinematic perfection in every subtle way.
Successfully hemming jeans so they actually fit.
Getting packages from myself.
My sister coming home from London.
Having a sinus infection in August (why?!?!).
Cutting off my hair. Bahhhhh … I … am going … to learn to like it … again.
Blowing my nose constantly; my most attractive trait.
 Lots of miscellaneous creative activities.
Potential situation of employment.
Having a beautiful red motorcycle helmet and jacket in my possession and no bike on which to ride.
Having a car that runs.
Soft kleenex and honey-lemon tea.
Being cell-phone-less.
Crickets outside my window.
 

And we conclude: I have tons to be grateful for, lots that’s perfectly tolerable, very little that’s worth whining about. Hmph. Humbling.