I started out the morning doing something I thought was really fun - scouring the internet to see which of my favorite children's books have been translated into Lithuanian. It took most of the morning, and really did not get me any further along with my studies, my classes or housework, but I made a list which I will impose upon everyone I can think of. I found only one Eric Carle, several Richard Scarey, Curious George, Roald Dahl, EB White, AA Milne, Pippi Longstocking and Ramona books.There were singles of Judy Blume, Dr. Seuss, Jeff Kinney, Wendy Orr and various others. There are probably more, but I had to get to the Iki, so I gave up at noon.
I had a wonderful conversation with an older woman at Iki. She didn't speak a word of English, and we know I only have a handful of Lithuanian words, but that didn't seem to matter. I was trying to figure out a box of hot cereal. and she started talking to me. I used my handy dandy I don't understand phrase, and she started pointing and talking until I understood that the box I had picked up was not a good bargain. She showed me the weight and the price and the price per kilogram or whatever the weight word is, shook her finger, shook her head and pointed to the best choice. She talked and I talked, and waved our arms and had a grand time. Later she was ahead of me in line and turned and looked at me. I smiled and waved and she smiled and waved. Who said Lithuanians are reserved?
On the other hand, I had a handbasket full of stuff and a young woman came up behind me with only two things. As I always do, even at home, I suggested with words and gestures that she go ahead of me. She got a funny expression on her face and said "Why?" I said that she only had two things and I had so many, but then the express line opened so she thanked me and moved to it. Those crazy Americans.
Note to all who intend to visit here: The bikers do not indicate in any way that they are getting ready to whiz by you, which seems dangerous for them as well as for the pedestrians.
We needed to return the hot chocolate cups to the neighbors, and you all know you can't return an empty dish, so I made some banana pudding today. I bought a packet of pudding, but of course I couldn't read the directions. The fact that they were in Lithuanian was not as serious an issue as the fact that I did not bring a magnifying glass with me. Maybe if Del had held it up from across the room... If I could have seen the words and numbers, I could have figured out that I needed to add sugar and vanilla sugar and how much milk. I guessed at the milk and cooked it until thick, but when I tasted it, I discovered that I had really made paste. After I added sugar and vanilla sugar it was pretty good, though a bit lumpy. They don't sell vanilla wafers here, so I substituted a few mildly ginger flavored cookies and called it done. It wasn't bad.
The never returning a dish empty reminds me of the war of kindness one of our former neighbors and I had. She was retired and loved to send us things she had made. I always sent her dish back full and occasionally would initiate another exchange, but she was wearing me out. She sent my dish back full almost before I got my coat off. I thought I was really smart when I started using metal and plastic throw aways, but she washed them and returned them full. Finally I learned to only make things that could be sent in one of those heavy paper plates or bowls. Even Helen couldn't figure out how to wash those.
My special find at the Iki was frozen string beans. Since we eat either fresh or canned ones at least twice a week at home, this was exciting. I'll be so glad when we get to fresh vegetable season. We are having nice cucumbers, tomatoes and red bell peppers, but nothing like the old market in Riga. Of course, it's a larger city.
The public librarian we visited the other week sent an email thanking me for the photos I sent her. It was in Lithuanian, except for the word thank you. I will sit down and compose a reply in Lithuanian. It should give her a laugh.
Some of my FB buddies are telling about the dogs they have loved. I'm staying out of that discussion. They might think me strange if I told them that Mort, The Dog From ____ who owned us for 14 years has been reincarnated as a blonde who lives with Daryl Lyn and Tommy in Virginia. It's true, and he knows that I know who he was in his past doggie life. I'm willing to swear to it. When I say "Mort" he looks at me quite guiltily, if that is a word. Those poor people always had really good dogs until this one. It's a sad (funny) thing to watch the way this dog has taken them over and bent them to his will. They will deny it, but don't believe them.
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