Time on My Honds

I smell like a chicken. A cooked chicken - which is better than smelling like a living chicken (right, Hamers?). I've been preparing chicken and noodles for two days now. Just what are you supposed to do with that sack of junk (giblets) you pull out of the poor deceased chicken? They must be there post mortem for a reason. It's things like that that make me understand just driving to KFC and ordering out. (That and those yummy biscuits!)

These days have been like the first couple of months we lived here. I have no one to answer to so I can squander my days or use them. I'm still studying Russian though I'm not speaking with anyone - that's bad. I'm still exercising and having quiet time - that's good. My mind is turning to writing again. As I walk or relax I think of story ideas and I'm ready to get back to that part of my routine.

I was taking a walk the other day and thought how satisfied I would be if I loved noise. I was walking down a major road with lots of traffic. About half way home, I turned off to walk the rest of the way (a little longer) through a park with an ornamental tree garden - lovely. The first thing I heard was running water, ahh. Very soon was the sound of a buzz saw. Harrumph. Then I thought that perhaps I could tune into my other senses and not be as bothered by the noise around me. It was overcast, dark and there was no wind so what I felt on my skin was only the motion of air when my arms swung. It wasn't cold but there was no heat from the sun. I wasn't walking fast and hard enough to sweat (I know, I know). It smelled fresh and moist and sweet near the flowering trees. My eyes were teased as to whether or not they could make out the faintest shadow on the ground before me. All this I do because when I get to Tashkent I'm there for two years. Whatever is there is my world and I must live in it. I hope I like it but if I don't I want to be able to adjust. I'm grateful for the time I have to give attention to things like that.

Here's an update on Doug and I. (I hope I'm not repeating myself.) We are leaving the country on September 8th. We fly to Antwerp, Belgium so Doug can meet with our port authorities with whom he'll be working from Tashkent. His responsibilities in Tashkent as the General Services Officer are customs, shipping and motorpool. After we spend a few days in Antwerp (where I get to relax!) we fly to Tashkent and our new life begins.

In the meantime, we are (slowly) making a list of consumables to take with us. We are allowed 3,000 pounds to last us the two years. This is tough. Exactly how much toothpaste do YOU use in a year? Toilet paper? Anyone? I don't really want to run out of either of those goodies. I'm not planning on taking very much food with us - I want to eat locally. However, I must have ingredients for my favorite Christmas candy (yes, Caleb?) as well as these yummy chocolate covered raisins I've discovered. It is because of those little guys that I lost several pounds. Hey! At least half of them are good for me.

Then there's the issue of clothes. Most of my clothes are in storage and, at this point, I barely remember what I own. I have been hard to fit in the past. It's easier now, but it's still a challenge. I am told that the seamstresses and tailors in Tashkent are quite good and affordable. That sounds good. They suggest, however, bringing fabric with us. Hmm. That sounds complicated.

We have our housing assignment. We will be living in the compound near the Embassy. We really wanted to live away from the Embassy in another neighborhood where we'd be more immersed in the culture but there are advantages for both locations. We'll probably be safer nearer the Embassy. I will have to push myself to get out and experience Tashkent. I don't want to turn into one of those people who lives in another country and hangs out with Americans all day. Nothing personal. We are about a mile from a metro station and we will be bringing Doug's car. We will be living in a 3-bedroom house not an apartment (Yay!). We will have a garage and a yard. There is a common pool and gym plus tennis courts for our use.

Well, now the entire apartment smells like chicken. It's getting a little old now, if you know what I mean. Time to bring out the insense. (Proud of me, Caleb?) I guess I should let the rest of my readers (all three of you?) in on this. Caleb burned insense at our piano lessons. It was a great mood for good music. Unfortunately it occasionally overpowered the smell of the fresh-baked chocolte chip cookies - but, at least, I got to eat some of those!