Frying pan monologue

I'm in a theater group. Our first performance featured each of us doing monologues.

Five monologues. Mine begins at 3:33

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R7ytUY873Po

Here are a few unrehearsed comments about my performance:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8yWQW64STcg

Crowd-sourced video review

             This video features a clip from our Sunday Ultimate Frisbee game. The video is filmed from my 12th floor apartment.

 As luck would have it, this 1 min. 14 sec footage shows an entire point. My team, the Greenish Stickers, has just won a point, and Stephan throws the disc down the field to the other team. Eric, from the Multi-Colored Bon-Bons, throws the disc to Cori. Then the disc goes to Pam, Brenden (who makes a fabulous catch), back to Eric, to Kim and to Kate before a fantastic defensive block sees the disc fall to the ground like a wounded pigeon.

Veronica picks up the disc for the Stickers and throws to Stephan, who throws an excellent pass to me near the sideline. Eric and I are running toward the disc, and at the 49-second mark on the video clip, I reach up and successfully grab the disc and bring it down. I look down and realize I am far out of bounds.

Eric says, “He was out.”

I nearly drop the disc, admitting that my stellar effort was for naught, when someone, probably another Sticker, says, “He wasn’t out.”

Thus begins a fierce .3 second battle in my head. On one side is the spirit-of-the-game purest who is telling me to put the disc on the ground and walk away; on the other side is a 100% Striker who wants to win at all costs. Eric, who carries not only a deep knowledge of the game, but also a kind soul and friendly attitude, says, “Well, he might have been in. Go ahead and take it.”

I suppose not everyone reading this knows that the key to the success and the uniqueness of Ultimate Frisbee is that even at the highest level—World Championships—there are no referees. The players call their own fouls and line violations, and they are expected to be honest.

I didn’t immediately go to the line and throw. I wanted to be sure that I was getting away with this one—er, I mean that in the considered estimation of all involved, it was determined that I was close enough to being in bounds that I should continue. I look up, thinking, “Was that really ok? Should I go on with this?” Then I realize that yes, we are going to say that I was in.

I throw a forehand to Alex, who deftly snares it. She throws to Stephan while begin to run from one side of the end zone to the other. Stephan sees this movement and puts it exactly where it needs to be. Luckily for us, Cori’s acrobatic swat and thrashing arm movements are ineffectual. I grab the disc successfully for the Stickers.

We probably had this point twice over; as I looked up after catching the disc, I noticed that Mike was also in position to make the reception. Wisely, he pulled back at the last moment; most likely, his movement was partially because he knows that I have been known to flail into people when I have my eyes on the disc. Only 15 minutes before, Eric and I ran headlong into each other. Someone said we looked like two horses wearing blinders.

So, please leave me a message telling me if you think I was in or out. Here are some still shots of the climax:

Eric and James (in green) are moving to the disc: 

Eric and James raise their arms toward the disc:

Conveniently, there is an orange sideline marker at nearly the exact point where this bit of excitement is playing out:

In this picture, James nearly has the disk in hand as his left foot is approaching the sideline:

James's left foot touches the ground just as his hand alters the trajectory of the disc:

His left foot is on the ground as James brings the disc down:

  Because we have video evidence of the questionable catch, I would like those of you reading this message to give me your input. I am doing this just for fun, of course. It makes absolutely no difference what the result of this crowd-sourced ‘video-review’ is. After the game, Eric and I rode in his vehicle to breakfast.

December 31, 2017

Ultimate Frisbee was fabulous today! We had nine people, but the teams were fairly evenly matched. Here is a photo of the players:

My apartment can be seen in the upper right of the photo. All players are mostly American. One guy lived in France for the first 18 years of his life, but he is now in the US Army. 

Then we went for breakfast. Here is a portion of the menu:

Gotta love that American breakfast. We can't live without our pepsi, can we?

The day before, I had eaten some delicious soup prepared by a friend. She showed me one of the vegetables that she used for seasoning:

I didn't recognize it, and when I translated the Russian word into English, I said, "What?!? Can't be!" I asked my family if anyone could identify it, and I predicted correctly that if anyone would know, it would be my sister-in-law. She correctly identified it as the root of celery.

A Female Companion

A new friend

                She’s a fantastic addition to my life. In many ways, I have been dreaming about her for many years. This young girl is destined to be part of my life for years to come. Her name is Fluffy McFluffaLot. That was Maxim’s off-hand moniker that seemed to be appropriate.   

                I had often said that one of my goals for Kiev was to find a cat that did not upset Oskar’s allergies. On my first weekend here, a friend suggested that we go to the Natural History Museum. In the museum, I saw a sign with pictures of cats. I was drawn to the sign like a pig to watermelon rinds. The sign was advertising a club for cat enthusiasts. I visited the group on the day before I began work, and described my dilemma—that I needed a cat that I could take in for a week or so while I determined if my son is affected. I was told that no one would accept such an arrangement. The gods must have been smiling on me though, because Lena, a cat breeder who sales purebred Scottish Folds, had just walked in. She overheard my conversation, and said, “I have a cat you can have.”

I repeated my desire several different times, several different ways so I would make sure that my words carried the correct nuance and outright meaning that I needed. I walked away with the phone number of a potential cat owner after only 10 minutes. The next day, I contacted Lena, and we agreed that we could pick up the kitty on Saturday.

I wasn’t sure what kind cat it was, and I hadn’t seen any pictures. British Shorthair is what I had thought, so I said this to the boys. I think they were dreaming every minute of every day from Wednesday to Saturday about the cat. As we were getting to the place on the metro, their excitement was palpable.
"Oh!! Look!! There's a kitty!" one of them would shout as an ad for cat food came into view. They were reviving their inner little boys.

We set up the meeting for Saturday evening. I wanted to go to the river for a swim—much too cold for the boys; but near the beach, there was also a zip line and mini ropes course through the trees. Unwisely, I had left the house without my battery for my phone, so of course, the battery went dead just after I took a video of the boys on the zipline. We asked 5 different restaurants until we found one that had a free iPhone charger that we could use while we ate. The phone is so good at keeping all of my information that I’ve become handicapped if I don’t have it. I didn’t even bother to write down the directions, or the address, or even the phone number. All was well, though, because after we ate, the phone was charged up, I made the call, and the almighty Google told us where to go.

                Pretty soon, we were sitting in the metro train on the way home with Grumpy—she has a similar facial expression to Grumpy Cat of internet fame—in a box that we borrowed from Lena. As I said, I had no idea what kind of cat we were getting, but I had no idea she would be so beautiful. She has extremely long, silky fur that is sticking out of her ears and toes. I had thought this was an exclusive characteristic of Maine Coon cats. She purrs about 70% of the day. She moves to different parts of the bed all night, and I fall asleep many times as I tickle her under her chin or down one of her paws. When the boys sleep over, Oskar is in the room where the cat does not go, and McFluffaLot sleeps with Maxim.

                As far as the allergies are concerned, there is no cat that is truly hypoallergenic. I guess the bothersome stuff is in the cats’ saliva, not the hair. I comb McFluffalot every day, and Claritin is not expensive here. I’ll try to send some photos/videos.

Kitten to a good home

 This is a sidewalk mall that reminds me of Minnesota. I think the difference between here and Moscow is that there is more open space here.

In Moscow, the city has largely eliminated the street side vendors and kiosk that sell everything from shoes to books to tools, etc. In Kiev, all that unregulated commerce is alive and well. Below is a picture of cherries, and man are they good! Strawberries are in season here, too. The season is mostly over in Tirana. Maybe I'll just travel around all over the world chasing the strawberry season.

In the metro, it is amazing that these people were able to get these kittens to sleep so nicely. I think they may have drugged them. But...as I walked up, one guy was walking away with one, and it looked fresh and happy. The sign says, "We are giving kittens to good hands." (In Russian) I was a bit worried about my lack of ability to speak Ukrainian. I don't think I'll have a problem. Everyone speaks Russian, and so far I haven't noticed any animosity toward Russia. I think the problems may be like all problems between countries. The people get along fine--it's the governments that cannot play nicely.

I visited an outdoor gym. All the weights were fastened to their stands with thick, heavy chains. The bar below is sagging like something from a cartoon. There were probably 50 big beefy dudes with their shirts off showing massive pectoral muscles. I told my friend, Anna, that it was like a meat market.

Here is Anna lifting a terribly heavy bar made from tires.

The meat market was on an island in the Dniper River. Next to the meat market was this large, sandy beach. 

These cats were on the wall of a passageway. 

Before I left, the stray cat who came to visit me often took advantage of the empty drawers:

Now you see him:

and

now

you

don't

French School

I've been working at a French school for 18 months. Below is a picture of all the teachers. This day was great--they said the picture would be taken at 9:00. As I walked to the door outside the school, I got a message that it was postponed indefinitely. Since I live next door to the school, I asked the secretary to send me a message when they were ready; I would have to interrupt a Skype lesson that I would be doing at home. I started the lesson, and turned off my phone so I wouldn't be bothered--completely forgetting about the picture. After 20 minutes, I remembered and turned on the phone. There was a message and a missed call. I buzzed over to the school and the teachers were all lined up. I stuck my nose in and I was done in 3 minutes.

The day I left, they threw an impromptu going away party. It was totally unexpected. The dude in the middle of the picture below, Geoffray, said to me quietly before the end of my class that he wanted to talk to me after the kids went out to recess. I was a little concerned, thinking that I had done something wrong, or NOT done something I was supposed to do. But I wasn't too worried because he was all smiley and such. 

After class, he told me how nice it was to have me, and how they were going to miss me, yada, yada, yada. I was supposed to meet with next year's teacher right then because I was expected at the Russian embassy to pick up my visa. Geoffray told me the teacher was outside at some meeting. I asked him to tell her that I would be waiting for her inside. He left, but then came back. He said I should really come down and talk to her myself. 

I got down the steps, turned a corner, and saw the whole school standing on both side of a corridor, cheering. It was great. It reminded me of last November when the Russian English camp made a tunnel for me to run around the room in to celebrate my birthday.

I was pleasantly and completely surprised by the whole affair. Unlike the stories that I have heard from some places, all of my interactions with French people have been nothing but wonderful. When I was in Paris, everyone was helpful and friendly. This spring, French guy rode his bike to Tirana during the same time when the frisbee evangelists were in Albania to introduce the game of Ultimate to the country. I joined them in trips around the country. Alexander joined us several times, too. Now, he's pulling a chiropractic table around the world behind his bike--a great guy.

Critical mass

Fire jugglers, dancing fountains. These are a couple things that gave Kiev some life last night. I think the boys, and their mother, are going to love it here. Not only are there 5 times as many people as in Tirana, but there is a critical mass that creates an explosion that means all kinds of activities can survive.