one of a kind shirt

 

Words: 470; one picture

            The run yesterday, on the 27^th, was great.  I felt eager to be running and my legs and body were not complaining.  Possibly could have been the influence of the sunny weather!!!!  For the first time in ages, the sun made a 6-hour appearance.  The problem is that I haven’t yet found a good place to run.  I go up and down streets and come up against gates to factories, or railroad tracks. 
I have to keep turning and I am perpetually in danger of getting lost.  I do somewhat of what one person in Baku called a ‘cat walk’—I don’t run too far before I turn around and make sure the I keep track of the landmarks and such. 

            I saw a sign yesterday that I recognized, but I didn’t think I was in the place where the sign should be.  When I saw it, I mentally put myself in that position and my soul wanted me to get to the other side and run to my right.  But my brain knew (or at least THOUGHT it knew) that the proper course was to the left.  The lay of the roads made it easier for me to move to the left and as I did, I saw in front of me what looked like a building by which I had run both of the past two days.  As I got closer, there was a Старбакс (Starbucks) that I recognized.  So I realized that my SOUL was trying to deceive me and I ran home like a rabbit.  I did 9 pull-ups, too.  The bar was freezing.  I really need to find a park or a divided street or something. 

            The interesting thing about this picture is that I didn’t know we were dressed like a couple of clowns. Sudha was my classmate from the CELTA course last year.  I walked into the restaurant, took off my coat, and sat down.  I didn’t really look at her.  After 10 minutes or so, another classmate, Natasha, on the other side of the table said, “Oh, you are so colorful!”  I still didn’t look at Sudha.  Natasha took out her camera and snapped a photo.  Not until I looked at the result did I see that Sudha was wearing what women can wear without a problem.  Only I get accused of wearing a curtain.  Actually, only I say that.  Everyone loves my shirt. In truth, I guess one of us individually didn’t look like a clown, but the two of us right next to each other was hilarious.  I burst out laughing—a great belly laugh that might give me away as a loud American.

            Where did I find this shirt?  I bought the material in Iowa and had it specially made in Kazakhstan.  There isn’t another one like it anywhere.