Life as it is

Friday, November 26, 2010

I have a question to all of you....

Do you like to read my stories? Am I have to post more of them or I can only be a reporter of today's news?

Good morning.....

It was a nice day yesterday, but the evening was cold. This is a view from a nice place...the restaurant a mountain...

Thursday, November 25, 2010

Hi guys....it's a nice weather today...Happy Thanksgiving!

Wednesday, November 24, 2010

Hollywood's view...one of them...

Wow..what's happening...it's too much...

Afternoon....Good! Or good afternoon....

I have something new for you, friends...

Tuesday, November 23, 2010

Even the dogs don't like it...

Well, you will introduce yourself whenever you decide to... it ok

I only would love to have a smiles here- you know, these funny faces to express myself. At this moment the face would be smiley with the crossed eyes ...lol..

Hey people, how are you doing?

I am really curious...because I only share...and share...and got bored of myself...

Hi Irina, you welcome...how nice to have you here...seriously...

This day she woke up earlier for the school. It was an issue: radio news was important today for every scholar in the city, especially the hardly expected by them the desired barrier of forty one degrees below zero in Celsius. It was a winter’s rule in this part of Siberia these times: kids to the eight grade didn’t go to school if temperature felt to the level when it was difficult even to breath a frizzy air outside without scarf on the mouth; if it got over forty one – school fellows from nine’s to ten’s grade remain at homes, too. So, the scale on the other side of the window showed forty degrees and the girl’s heart was beating heavily with a hope that the weather get colder and all her plans for the day will come true. Please, she prayed, do not let snow to come-the snow softened the air and made the temperature go up. The girl was standing on the wide window’s plot barefoot, pushing her nose toward the glass to see better the scale. It was almost time to prepare for the school if she doesn’t want to be late. But hope die the last – she gave herself one minute more.

If somebody could see her from the snowy, white, frizzy street and look at her helpless eyes He could see a hot wish to do not go to a boring class, but have an exiting day out. Her praying was that loud into her silent head- He couldn’t stand on this noise anymore, and the eyes. He blew the ice wind from Baikal and the girl’s eyes turned to more green and bright: she saw how the mercury slowly crawled down to the desirable forty one degrees! Little girl jumped from the window’s plot and run to the radio- she needed the proof from the sweet, sweet radio guy that her vision didn’t betrayed her. No, it didn’t! Yes, today was her lucky day- almost an eternity! For to not loose a second of the treasury time she created a plan for whole day. First of all, she needed to change the long, warm sleeping dress to the bunch of clothes. Here were the two pairs of cotton’s brown pantyhose and a thick woolen pants, a red sweater which she hates for irritating tickling on her dry skin. It was difficult to breathe of latex ribbons in all these peaces of clothes, but the girl suppose to handle it – there are few more pieces coming: the big hat made, probably, from the bear’s fur, as a coat was, the scarf and gloves. Thinking of all these clothes piece by piece, she wanted to avoid some to put on, but without scarf she could loose her nose as some her grandma patients- the noses were frozen off. First, the nose was very red, then white, than it change the color to dark and the skin started to peel off, than some procedures followed to save a tissues in a hospital, and, finally, you can have a half of your turned up nose. So, the scurf has to be onto the face. So, there was no choice if she wanted go to the streets- all clothes have to be on. Next step was to put the skates on. At the end of the procedure the dry girl’s skin was wet and red of - it wasn’t easy to do this with a thick coat on her. Finally, she was ready to leave. Going down the stairs carefully the girl was thinking: it was an order to not go to the school, but nobody forbid children go to the ice field to skate was her logic, and not only her, but every school fellow, too. Almost all of them were in a snow this day, even those who hated play outside in coldness- it was a matter of honor today.

The first part of the plan was in process-it was skating. She was good in it which means she can make a turns, jumps, but she didn’t like to do it in pare, only by herself. Actually, she always preferred activities for only one: she was a gymnast, she loved to read, to cook, to clean, and to take decisions by herself as much as possible for the kid. It was better than to count on somebody-no excuses, no disappointment, no spent nerves. Go, do, forget about- was her motto. Every block in the city had its own rink-so, it was close to home. The only problem she has had was – the boredom. She was easily bored of one kind of activity. One hour later she already left the ice, went home to change skates for the boots- warm and comfortable ones, named valenki: made from the felt wool they protect from cold, but not from the water, and they didn’t allowed running fast.

But those boots were ideal for the next part of the plan-go up to the hill where the ice was made by her friends and her: for two days they were working on it-taking the water with the baskets to the top, waiting for a while when it will be frozen smoothly, making the second and the few next watering to create the best ice path in the area for fun and performance. Some guys were better in skating from the top to the end of the path-fast and brave; some were showing to the public how they can do it in pairs or even more than two: holding each other for the waists. It was an art, and a competition. Sometimes, ambitious person cold made a dangerous jump, or turn resulting in injury: broken leg, or, hand, or nose, but never head-these heavy hats were working as the helmets. Valenki were great for skating on them down the path-they gave a chance to change the angle of the lower feet’s part for managing the skating speed and the direction- the girl loved everything be under control. Some teenage boys were trying to court her in a strange for her way: they were waiting for her up on the hill, when she went to the top some of them rapidly grabbed her for the waist from behind and forced both of them down the ice path. This was scary: it was out of control. That’s why she was careful skating there- she never knew when some of non- indifferent boys will suddenly appeared on the hill. Today it’s happen again and the girl was thinking running home- why boys are that strange? Why don’t they only ask girls: do you like me? Or Do you want me to do this or that? They never did it. They only bothered her with attention and, unfortunately, they were not desirable ones. Only something she understood that she do not know what to do with them. And the reaction was only angriness.

The next step of the plan was meet girl’s friend Lily. Lily was a Buriat, kind of Mongolian girl and the girl was always surprised how Lily could see something at all with this narrow eyes, the eye’s color even couldn’t been recognized. Probably, they were dark brown as everybody’s Asian eyes whose blood have never been mixed with some other race’s blood- no way! It was for the centuries and no difference between individuals in the huge area, before Russians came into this land, made Buriats think that all world looks like them: narrow eyes, wide noses, healthy looking yellow skin, short bodies, shiny, thick and usually long hair and strong, curved legs. The Russian girl’s skinny body, green eyes, thin, light skin, and tiny, almost blond, hair made her drastically and visible different from the other children. She felt a little jealous of the skins and hair quality: smooth yellow skin was her dream this time and long, to the ground, heavy black braids made her imagination work. At school hours, when others were listening to a history’s teacher, she was sitting there and dreaming with the opened eyes: here she was, in a Buriat urta, dressed as a princess with a long embroidered, last century’s shirt, yellow beautiful skin, and the ends of her combed, wonderful hair were lying on the antic rug. Her eyes were watching the invisible horizon. She was that important to herself that many bodies of died men, who killed themselves, because they couldn’t earn her love. And…What’s going on? Is it her last name somebody called? What was this laugh around? Oh, my God, the teacher was asking for girl’s notebook to write the invitation for the parents come to school because she was dreaming again. Her mom will bit her again, hopefully with a belt, not with a wire. Wire’s bruises usually stayed longer than others. Something more important happen- the imagination was killed. But this death won’t last for long time, the girl’s imagination will overflowed her head and the thoughts will leak through her ears, filling out every corner of the world. She will wait.

So, Lily wasn’t home-how sad!- music classes weren’t dismissed. “How smart I am”, was thing the girl,” for the first time of my eleven years of my life I resist something- it was an enrolment for these classes- and I won, telling that already was in the list for the gymnastics”. It was a stabile system these days for discovering the new eventual talents: the coaches were coming to the schools in the physical hours and were watching for the different abilities in the kids. Some of them were offered go to the ski section, some- to ice hockey team, some-as a girl- was invited to a gymnastics’ section: she have had all qualities to become a champion, eventually, off course.

Good, was thinking the girl, in this case I am going to the “church”. Before the Great October Socialist revolution it was a big church, with a cemetery in a great park with the old trees – some of them five third grade kids could not hug holding by hands. Then the church was closed- it was an atheistic revolution, and the park was turned into an entertaining place: the dancing place was built, the billiard tables were placed in a former priests’ mention, the diablo circle were rotated, and many attractions for the kids and adults had been constructed. The tickets had a nice price of five kopeks- the girl could went there summer time and, for thirty kopeks given to her for the lunch, she could go to her loving “boats” whole six times! Six times by ten minutes made one hour staying in the “boat”, working with the legs and hands- not everybody was able to spend those energy and money to show how much her little body can do. Yes, she even could hardly walk straight then of dizziness, but the feeling of victory was great- especially if she made it six times, but her friend Lena start to trough up on the fourth. Now it was a winter season, so, the competition moved to the skies, skates, hockey, sanki, skate on the ice path by the feet down the hill, or made a snow doll. Somehow, doing the homework was usually forgotten to a moment when she needed to return home late at the evening. So, she was going to a “church”- the church was still there- destroyed by the time and people who were coming for many purposes but pray to the God, but every body was telling:”I am going to the church” when it means :“I am going to play in the church’s park”. Many friends were there already making the snow dolls – competition again. Frozen carrots played the role of noses, some of them were almost brown, but they do work. Hands were with a different length- the same steams couldn’t be found under the snow. The work for the biggest and better looking doll slowly but surely grew into a snow balls fight, which usually ended with a race: boys were running after girls trying to reach them and feed with a snow. The girl could escape from the snow feeding by let the boy kiss her. So, it was a dilemma here: if the girl didn’t want to be kissed, she supposed to escape earlier from the snow ball fight. Why you’ll ask? Because whoever wanted to kiss her wasn’t a person whom she would like to kiss.

It was dark already, the grey sky turned to a dark blue, and the girl realized that she has to do a lot before her mother come home: she need to buy milk and bread, take her baby sister from the kindergarten, and prepare the homework. She had to run. Have you even run with valenki in a deep snow? Just try. It was a feeling that she never moved from one place. Here she was: it’s a kindergarten, with a New Year tree in a front yard, decorated with bright stars, hanged on the trees’ needles. She knew exactly how to make these decorations: take a form for cookies, relatively long threat, and the few glasses with colored water. Put the threat in form of lasso into the form, pure some amount of colored water in, and put all forms outside in the snow. In half of hour the decorations are ready. Every Siberian scholar knew how to do it but in the kindergarten it was the teacher’s responsibility. The baby sister was wet, as usual, the girl needed to change her underwear, the blouse, and dress her, which was a big deal- the little kids were wearing much more clothes than older ones. The next task was to lift the heavy kid, set her into found their sanki in “parking” place. Then, running and skating went to the shop and buy whatever was ordered by their mom. It was a great benefit if baby wasn’t crying as she did almost all the time. The girl remembered as, one night, after crying by hour or so, her mom start crying too, throw the baby in the big bed, and left the room. Looking at the red fatty cheeks, the girl was scared that her sister could die of her own yellowing; she hugged her, lifted, and carried to the moment when she felt asleep. Bread and milk were bought, the little sister was hugging cold package, and the girl was pulling the sanki. Good, she was almost ready with the tasks. The TV turned on; the news in buriat was running- who needs them? The girl was asking this question every time when saw this face in full screen, talking the language which nobody, even buriats, haven’t used. Living whole her live in this big city, full of Buriats, she never heard one word spoke by somebody in this language. Everybody speaks Russian which was very understandable: there are Buriats, Russians, Jewish, Georgians, Armenians, black students, Chinese, Mongolians were living in the Republic by different circumstances, and these people had to communicate somehow. It was a mystery for her- she always was trying to find the logic in the life’s happenings, and rarely succeeded. Wow, somebody came- the girl has heard the sound of turned keys in a locker!

Please, let it be her stepfather! He never asked for anything, never check the homework, never talk- he was always tired. Having shifts days and nights as a surgeon in a hospital on the basement of the building where the family had an apartment, he barely could be noticed as a family member, except on some holiday’s parties. As the last one, New Year’s, when all adults exchanged the clothes and their children were having fun looking at women dressed as a men, and man- as a women, with a lipstick on their lips, mascara on the lashes. The girl like more than others the Georgian guy, uncle Vahtang, also the surgeon, he had that long lashes as no one women had! Also his life story was attractive-she has been listening sneakily the conversation between her mother and Vahtang’s wife: he was in crazy love with his first wife when he had been living in Georgia, in a small city. Once, he came at their little house at the edge of the city from the late shift- he had a patient who died in his hands after the surgery. And what he saw through the window? His wife and his friend were together- he actually never told what exactly he saw there, but he put the wooden piece under the door, locking the exit, closed the windows with an external wooden shadier, spit a little gas on the perimeter and light the match. The firefighters came exactly to collect the bodies. He didn’t run from the place, he was sentenced to life. Because of good behavior, he was released after ten years in the age of forty, met Mary, his wife now, had a child- little curly Nina. Listening to a story, the girl was hoping that Vahtang could be happy after all.

No luck! It was girl’s mom, coming from the frizzy street, in only tiny hoses-her knees were red as her nose and cheeks. She was tired, unhappy as usual, looking for the fight as usual, so the girl couldn’t escape. The first question was good:”Did you buy milk and bread?”, second one was nice, too:”What time did you take your sister from the kindergarten?” But third question she didn’t like:”Show me your homework, have you done it?” Usually, the mother just ask is everything all right and if she prepared the homework. And the standards respond was-yes, I did. That’s it. But if she was in a bad mood- she started check everything for the purpose- to unload her angriness onto somebody. Who else was around? Only the girl was. Think quickly, girl, or you are in trouble! O, she knew what to tell. Yes, they had a final in math- there is no homework for tomorrow, they had a history class and it will be the history of the Ancient Russia which she knew from the other then History books, and finally, it will be English lesson. That’s it. “Good,” mother told, “show me the grammar notebook.” It was a strong kick. Think, girl! Mom was good in German and playing piano. But she couldn’t deal with English. Not one word. “Mom, we had read and remember the poetry, actually, the song”.

“Sing me then”.

“Now?”

“No, tomorrow. Off course, now!”

Collect your brain in one place, girl, everything what is coming into your head in English, go!

“Summer is coming,

We can’t deny-

Clouds are shinning-

And children try

Go to the park,

Have the pretty games,

Reading the books

Of Robinson Cruz’s days…”

“Good, you can stop. Bravo. Let’s have a supper.”

Going to a bed, the girl admitted that this particular winter’s day was very kind to her, and she thanks God for helping her.

Story #2

Whoever is curious about my stories- here is one more. Enjoy. Thanks for your time...

The weather is...not comfortable

It's 10 degrees in F.

Very unusual for LA at this season..No sun. Rainy.And a palm tree branches are all over the streets.

Even dogs do not like it...

Saturday, November 20, 2010

The receipt of a great food, named Pilaf...all Asians know what it is...

Let me tell you the quick and delicious way to feed your family...and only yourself..why not! We are human been too! So...Take 1/2 of pound any meat and cut it on cubes..the pot is already on the fire...put a few spoons of sunflower oil in it...and the meat...and the same amount as meat is a cut onion, better green one. Then take two caps of rice, wash it and add to the other products in a pot. Do not forget to mix all of it. In 5 minutes add a water- about 2 caps. Salt, black pepper, tomatoes on small pieces. Cover with lid. Cook on small fire. It's quick and have a great taste.

Hi, here I am...

It's an LA..usually warm and humid..but not today. It's rainy and people are not accustom to a dark sky...they have got tired suddenly....got depressed...

Friday, November 19, 2010

I would like to share my respect and love to an incredible person..

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jxw73V_0h2Q

Please, introdice yourself...if you do not mind... I am Irina...

Ok...I see the mistakes in my writing....no, it's not ok, but here we are...

...I would ask you to forgive these mistakes because I am contacting people in Bulgaria and Russia in the same time and the keyboard is mixing me up...I know how it is- reading a grammar mess...

Next story will be posted tomorrow.....hopefully you like my writing...

....but, please, accept me as Charley Chaplin ...mu life was more tragedy as a comedy...but the laughter saved my soul....

Here is the real story of my life...I'll start wit a childhood...logical, right?Enjoy..

Finally she has had a great toy! Almost alive and very real- the dead mouse with a size of Ina’s palm, long naked tail and skinny short paws was found at the rear of grandma’s house. The mouth could be opened and closed by the finger easily- the imagination that the animal answered her questions was full: the girl was asking “Do you like me? Do you want me as your friend?”, and the answer was ready: ”Yes, off course, I would love you be my best friend! Do you know that I like to eat a cheese?”. “I know exactly, I was watching many cartoons about mice- they like cheese, bread, and drink milk from the cat’s bowls”.

The conversation was extremely interesting – the girl and the mouse had a lot to tell each other. Small animal even learned how to laugh with the opened mouth and wave a tail. Probably this ability was forgotten since the death let the animal down, but Ina reminded her new friend what and how to do everything again. So, the mouse named Garik, starts it’s life over again; Ira felt as a God or at list as an Angel. This feeling was great, especially since when Ira understood how little the child is allowed to do by itself, with no asking somebody adult what to do: “May I go to pee?”, “May I eat now?”, or”May I play with Lily?”. The answers from the adults usually were: ”No, you’ll do it later” or “Yes, but not now”.

She could do with the toy whatever she wanted to – feed it, talk to the creature, wrap it, hold it, sing a song for good night to it, read a book aloud, actually, they-the girl and the mouse- could do together whatever they decide to do. And whatever they did together was an amusement to both of them.

The girl was worried: her little toy-friend probably was hungry; she must feed it with milk. The syringe can help her to achieve the task. Grandma can help -she was a nurse in a hospital. Ira usually admired to go there: everything was different, not real at this place- as she went to a clouded sky- silent, clean, and white. She almost experienced the existence of Heaven when crossed the front door, opened by her Grand in non-visit hour. Usually the door was locked to prevent any bacterias to enter in with the visitor’s shoes. Visitors and their bacterias weren’t welcome to this military hospital. Visible respect to a hospital’s personnel from patient’s side was understandable: all men who, by the Christ and Government sake, were injured in a military action or got pneumonia on the winter’s outside post, feel bad physically and suffered morally – they didn’t know when and in what condition will be released from the hospital after long time recovery and how this will influence their careers and families. So, they were looking at the medical staff as at Angels, who will solve their problems, especially the Director of the nurses in this post surgery department-she was close to surgerists and knew all the last information about every patient. In this case she was as a Director of Angels. It was the girl’s grandma.

The girl liked this blush of excitement – the moment when she and others truly believed into her grandma’s Maria unlimited ability to save everybody’s life and health. She knew this exactly – whoever was sick at home never went to a doctor because Maria knew what to do, she never made a mistake in a process of healing. Even the neighbors, primarily women, were coming home for an advice or help: if the door to the kitchen was closed-no one family member had to enter there- the patient could be with her skirt up and grandma were making an injection of vitamin B or aloe if a neighbor had some inflammation, pneumonia, or anemia.

Now, Ina came for the syringe. She needs an explanation what it will be for- she couldn’t just show the mouse body to grandma and told: ”Please, give me one of used syringes which will be thrown anyway to feed my friend. ” It wont work for sure, even the effect couldn’t be predicted. O, yes, she knew what to tell: she came for help for the bleeding wound, happened by downfall at the back yard an hour ago; then she suppose to ask quietly if she can save an used for the purpose syringe for the soap balloons. It was a bright idea! The balloons didn’t come out big, but they were big enough to fly. So, Ina got a syringe, big one- glassed one, sterilized after each use, with a relatively big hole at the end. No needle was allowed, she didn’t need it, the needle could hurt the toy’s little mouse. The next two steps were: to fill a syringe with milk and to find the place where she could be save from people’s eyes to feed the toy. Difficult tasks! Ina didn’t have any money to buy the milk, so, she had to go home with a hope to find some in the refrigerator. The only danger was the mother- she could be home, it was a summer time and her mom had a vocation as a professor in East -Siberian University of Technology , the students went to a countryside to help in a collective farm for the carrots and potatoes- it was a mandatory for them and for the professors, but Ira’s mother had two little children-her baby sister and her –first grade girl, so she was allowed to stay home vocation time and look after children. The idea for feeding the toy was that strong that Ina decides to risk: she wrapped the toy as a baby in a big handkerchief and carefully covered the toy’s head. Now they were safe. The front door was opened, the girl went into the apartment tiptoed, passed the corridor- nobody was there. How nice, soon, very soon the toy will be fed! Just wait a little!

“Where you were, girl? And what are you caring in your hands? Did you do your homework? Why did you take this clean linen handkerchief outside?”- It was her mother, sitting in the kitchen with a baby sister in her lap, having a tea with the aunt. “So, show us what is this”, the mother took the package from the mute girl and unwrapped it. Her face got scarlet, the scream frightened neighborhood, and the heavy handkerchief flied at the opposite corner of the kitchen. The long tail was sticking out from the package and, frozen of the scary scene, girl was thinking slowly because of fear: “Poor mouse- it hurts! Why my mother jumped on the chair if the mouse is dead? Adults! Sometimes they do have imagination!”

The toy must be buried at the back yard where it was found. Ina was thinking above the fresh grave-if she had to put the cross on it or not?

Because of the nature....

Because of my nature I am a humor and drama lover...so, my expressions are the same way...not bipolar..do not worry...
So, the expectations of the blog could be predicted on this base..lol...but I am sure- it will be fun..and cry..and joy for sure...

A short story about me...my life...and the reason to write...

It will be very short....not as my short stories are...lol..
I am Russian- Siberian by blood...had been living in a many different places...had seen a lot of interesting people around me...in Ukraine, than married in Bulgaria...then married in US... I hope, that the interest in people and their fate will create a group of people, who will honestly share their experiences with each other ...and with a mutual effort we will eliminate a huge army of psychiatrists who are doing the same, but are good paid...
It's my believe...

Welcome...thanks for coming...

Here we are...I hope this blog will collect all my friends to share their thoughts about the different issues...
and give me the opportunity to post my stories here and share them with a close ones...

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