Do you push the elevator button more than once? Do you really believe it makes the elevator faster?
It's time for another deep question, as you can see by the title. My answer is no, I don't push the elevator/lift button several times, nor do I imagine it would help. I'm not a very impatient person as a rule, and if I'm ever in a hurry, I can use the stairs.
This has been a productive day for me. I bought a lot of groceries and some adhesive plaster, and some light bulbs, and I went to the library, where I found only a song-book, but that's better than nothing. It made me so enthusiastic about practising, that I got it out of the way even before starting to blog. Then I also got something done on the moving house issue: I applied for an appartment from two agencies, and I can confidently hope to hear from them sooner or later. For once. being poor is a plus, because the city really has to do something about my housing, since I can't just go and buy a house...
I also made dessert.
It's a dairy decoction, made with curd cheese and whipped cream, that you mix and add sugar, vanilla sugar, orange marmalade and orange juice. It's a sort of pasha, as we call it. The word means Easter in Russian, and my recipe is a lighter version of the usual pasha, that contains butter, and is left to drain overnight. I had a hankering for this traditional Easter dessert, since we didn't make any this year. We Orthodox Christians celebrate Easter for 40 days, all the way to Pentecost, so I don't feel too weird about it.
I even did the laundry today, and knitted. The most manic phase of my knitting revival is past for now, but I will start on something new again, as soon as I finish this shawl. It's taking a while, like all the books I'm reading. I get so energetic by the days growing longer, that it's hard sometimes to remember that I don't have to do everything at once. I'm trying to finish at least one book before starting on any new ones. David Copperfield seems to become one of my lengthy reading projects. Bear with me, I will finish it, like I did with Emma, remember? David is getting to be quite the grown man. He just got drunk, with the assistance of that annoying Steerforth, and his childhood friend Agnes was a little shocked by his behaviour. If you haven't read any Victorian novels, it may come as a surprise to you how hard the authors come down on drinking. There are some jovial drunkards, of course, but especially in novels for young readers, drinking even a glass of wine sets your feet on the path that leads to the poorhouse, the prison, your death in a terrible accident, and ultimately, hell. Of course, many authors preferred to have the unfortunate soul repent on their death-bed. I'll never forget the fate of "Prince" Charlie in Rose in Bloom by L.M. Alcott. I always rather liked Charlie, and I couldn't see why his faults would condemn him to driving his horse and carriage off a bridge, catching pneumonia after lying out in the cold weather all night, and dying. The moral seems to me now, as an adult, to point less towards "Dont drink, because alcohol is bad for you" and more towards "If you put one toe out of line, ever, you will die young, and everyone will be rather relieved because you didn't have the time to bring more shame to your virtuous family". I can't believe that this is what Alcott wanted to say, but that's how a modern reader interprets it.
Doing a lot of things that directly affect my own life today, I feel more grounded in my everyday life, and it's a relief. I don't like to feel a bit torn between two worlds for some days, whenever I return home from my extended visits. I wonder how it would feel to be always travelling, for example having two houses in different countries. Perhaps I would grow to enjoy it. I'm greatful and annoyed at the same time for being such a flexible person, and learning to enjoy and embrace almost anything. How about you? Do you prefer changes, or do you get upset by them? See you tomorrow, when it's almost the weekend!
This has been a productive day for me. I bought a lot of groceries and some adhesive plaster, and some light bulbs, and I went to the library, where I found only a song-book, but that's better than nothing. It made me so enthusiastic about practising, that I got it out of the way even before starting to blog. Then I also got something done on the moving house issue: I applied for an appartment from two agencies, and I can confidently hope to hear from them sooner or later. For once. being poor is a plus, because the city really has to do something about my housing, since I can't just go and buy a house...
I also made dessert.
It's a dairy decoction, made with curd cheese and whipped cream, that you mix and add sugar, vanilla sugar, orange marmalade and orange juice. It's a sort of pasha, as we call it. The word means Easter in Russian, and my recipe is a lighter version of the usual pasha, that contains butter, and is left to drain overnight. I had a hankering for this traditional Easter dessert, since we didn't make any this year. We Orthodox Christians celebrate Easter for 40 days, all the way to Pentecost, so I don't feel too weird about it.
I even did the laundry today, and knitted. The most manic phase of my knitting revival is past for now, but I will start on something new again, as soon as I finish this shawl. It's taking a while, like all the books I'm reading. I get so energetic by the days growing longer, that it's hard sometimes to remember that I don't have to do everything at once. I'm trying to finish at least one book before starting on any new ones. David Copperfield seems to become one of my lengthy reading projects. Bear with me, I will finish it, like I did with Emma, remember? David is getting to be quite the grown man. He just got drunk, with the assistance of that annoying Steerforth, and his childhood friend Agnes was a little shocked by his behaviour. If you haven't read any Victorian novels, it may come as a surprise to you how hard the authors come down on drinking. There are some jovial drunkards, of course, but especially in novels for young readers, drinking even a glass of wine sets your feet on the path that leads to the poorhouse, the prison, your death in a terrible accident, and ultimately, hell. Of course, many authors preferred to have the unfortunate soul repent on their death-bed. I'll never forget the fate of "Prince" Charlie in Rose in Bloom by L.M. Alcott. I always rather liked Charlie, and I couldn't see why his faults would condemn him to driving his horse and carriage off a bridge, catching pneumonia after lying out in the cold weather all night, and dying. The moral seems to me now, as an adult, to point less towards "Dont drink, because alcohol is bad for you" and more towards "If you put one toe out of line, ever, you will die young, and everyone will be rather relieved because you didn't have the time to bring more shame to your virtuous family". I can't believe that this is what Alcott wanted to say, but that's how a modern reader interprets it.
Doing a lot of things that directly affect my own life today, I feel more grounded in my everyday life, and it's a relief. I don't like to feel a bit torn between two worlds for some days, whenever I return home from my extended visits. I wonder how it would feel to be always travelling, for example having two houses in different countries. Perhaps I would grow to enjoy it. I'm greatful and annoyed at the same time for being such a flexible person, and learning to enjoy and embrace almost anything. How about you? Do you prefer changes, or do you get upset by them? See you tomorrow, when it's almost the weekend!