Honked at by a short man

I was honked at today for the first time in Moscow.  It had been raining all day so there were puddles everywhere—forcing me to stay away from the water-logged play areas around the pull-up bars, and to concentrate on staying away from the puddles rather than do any sprints.
 I crossed a street and did a long leap over the water on the side (no gutter), a good 30 yards in front of a Zhiguli.  Some years ago, this car was the top of the line—a very LOOOONG line (more of an inverted pyramid, actually) that included many others of exactly the same style.  The boxy Zhiguli looks just like the cars I drew as a 6-year-old (and still do).

My recent effort when showing a student what the 'front panel' of a car means.

People here keep them running smoothly with serious maintenance and loving affection because, at one time at least, this was the only car they could ever hope to own.  The driver of the car that tooted at me was probably longing for the good old days when he was the king of the road.  Now, he has to accept second-class status as those who drive imported BMWs, Volvos, and even Jeeps have wrested him from the top spot.  He saw in me an opportunity to show his dominance and exhibited a symptom of the dreaded “Short Man’s Disease.”  This is something that rages at epidemic proportions in Central Asia, particularly among policemen, who have just a little bit of power.  They take this power and flaunt it whenever possible on a scale far larger than necessary.  This happens when they do things like demand to see the ‘documents’ of person jogging and minding his own business.  I must point out that “Short Man’s Disease” afflicts men and women of any physical stature, but especially those tending toward roundness—low height and wide girth.
When I heard the horn in mid-leap, I immediately turned toward the dark blue box of bolts, broke into a huge grin and said loudly, “Hiya!!!”  Even from a distance, I could hear him cursing under his breath.

As for my running performance, you might look at today’s details above and think, “What a slacker!”  Yeah, maybe, but I’m pretty happy with myself because I was able to get the run at all.  I'm a terrible sleeper.  I got up to do some planning at 3:30 a.m. because I hate lying in bed NOT sleeping.  After a couple hours, I crawled under the lovely covers and slept soundly until 9:00 when I needed to call Albania—I had been given the job of calling Maxim to wake him up at 7 a.m.  He was up and ready.  He enjoyed seeing Tima the cat, who came to visit me, before we played a game of chess at chess.com.  Then I played a game with Oskar before they took off to spend the day at school while their mother worked during a day of no classes.
While I was working, I could see clear weather illuminated by a fantastically bright light outside shining over the yard of a kindergarten right outside my window.  I had seen on weather.com that Moscow was supposed to have rain beginning at 5 a.m.  Disappointed that I hadn’t taken advantage of this rainless time and gone running in the early-morning hours, I went back to planning next week’s lessons.  About 11:00, I heard something when I DIDN’T hear anything.  The sound of silence—the rain had stopped.  Quickly, I decided to take advantage of this lull in precipitation.  As I ran, a small amount of rain came down, but nothing serious.  By the time I had returned, showered, cooked breakfast, and did a bit more planning, it was 2:00 and the sun was shining like a freshly baked apple pie.  I left for my classes with my leather coat unzipped and I was trying to avoid sweating.  Thirty minutes later, however, the year’s first real snow was coming down nearly horizontally as I waited at the bus stop with my umbrella trying to defend myself from the onslaught of prickly pieces of ice.  There was no accumulation, however, because by the time I got OFF the bus, the sun was again shining with new found vigor.