Taka can only eat soft stuff. About two and a half months ago he began having a toothache. He manfully waited for two weeks until he asked me to make a dentist appointment. The dentist found nothing, and Taka immediately started to think that he has jaw cancer. He started to come and talk to me in the evenings (he never did it before), all the while grabbing himself by the jaw and shaking it (perhaps, to check if it was still attached). I took a view that he should try to show his tooth to a dentist again before making the funeral arrangements.
This time the doctor found a crack in one of his bottom teeth. By that time Taka was already insisting on having soft rice for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Do you know, how long it takes rice to cook until it becomes the consistency that Taka likes, namely, like runny glue?!
At least he stopped talking about the jaw cancer. The dentist talked him into putting a crown on an offending molar. First he had a temporary crown put on. You should've seen him that evening! "That soup is too hot!" "This salmon pancake (believe it!) has jalapeno in it and a piece got stuck under my crown!" Every day I racked my brain about what to cook that will not require any chewing. Any kind of meat went into a blender, together with copious amounts of onion and breadcrumbs. I bought out the entire stock of tofu from a local supermarket and boiled it in a different sauce every day.
Gradually, I noticed that Taka became more brave about his food choices. He consumed cartons of ice cream and tins of pies. I saw him take on some shockingly pink Mexican cookies that were not at all soft. I still did my best to provide him with soft meals, but felt that the reprieve from perpetual blending, stirring, mashing the potatoes and "tofu-ing" was in sight. Not so!
Yesterday he went and got a permanent crown. For some reason, he could not talk normally when he got home. Sonny and I both caught something about him "not breathing" and became really concerned. I went after him and began probing for a reason why he couldn't breathe. He looked at me disgustedly and enunciated it better through locked teeth: "Bl-r-l-r-eeding!" "Bl-r-l-r-eeding!" (Japanese have hard time pronouncing their Rs). It turned out, he also got his other tooth pulled and his gum was bleeding!
Today, feeling guilty, I cooked all day. As a result, he pronounced that my soup was too crunchy (!), my chicken (the best in years) - too hard. He weaseled some pancakes out of me, which he ate with most of our ice cream. He also finished a dish of jello, three yogurts and all of the crunchy (!) soup. I don't know, where it all goes, he has no fat on him! But tomorrow I am starting on another round of tofu boiling!
Thursday, October 24, 2013
RIMKA
RIMKA
Rimka didn't know that the wolves still lived in the forests, so close to Moscow. She lied about her age and managed to enlist in a women's brigade, sent to a farm to save the badly needed potato harvest, before the invading German Army would lay siege to Moscow. She lived to regret it.
How could she be so stupid as to run into the forest so late at night? She went to this farm to do something meaningful, to matter. The women in the brigade, however, immediately recognized a spoiled city girl, who didn't do a day's work in her life, and a Jewish one at that. They picked and picked on her, especially, that crazy Zoya. Today, Rimka couldn't stand it anymore, she lashed out, and she and Zoya had a terrific cat-fight, ending with Rimka running out of the hut where the gleaners lived and into the forest. She got lost immediately, poked here and there into the black prickly bushes, then found a clearing and decided to wait there until the morning. That's when she saw three pairs of glowing red eyed looking at her from the darkness. To say that she was scared was not enough. She felt sick with dread. She couldn't breathe or move. Then she heard her name shouted by several voices. The glowing eyes abruptly disappeared. After a few moments, Rimka found her own voice and called back. Zoya burst into the clearing. Her flash light beam danced around the trees crazily, then settled on Rimka. "Come on, you, stupid city brat", she said - "you cost us a whole night's rest!". Sobbing, Rimka clung to her enemy for dear life.
She didn't know, how could she, that a year and a half later, while on a recon mission for the forest partisans, the nineteen years old Zoya Kosmodemyanskaya will be captured by the Germans. She will be tortured and hung. She'll become one of the most revered Russian heroes.
MEYER
"Well, if I get blown to pieces, at least it'll be in paradise". Meyer looked around him in wonder. The blue haze of the approaching Moldovan evening covered the hills and the valleys. The tiny silver ponds shivered in the breeze, the alabaster lilies dancing on their surface under the clouds of gnats. The heather and the grasses gave off potent, head turning aroma. The frogs, the cicadas, just began their nightly song. And thousands of stars looked down at the Earth with consternation. Even the muddy road, where the soldiers walked, was glistening with unerring beauty.
The two soldiers plodded on, Meyer carrying the spool of telephone wire, about three feet in diameter, and Wolfzon - loaded with the tent, tools, wooden poles and the cooking utensils. He was also unreeling the wire from the spool on Meyer's back, laying a communication line for the approaching army. Usually, Lt. Serov would stride in front of them, unburdened, giving instructions and feeling important. Today he walked a quarter of a mile back, and the soldiers knew why.
Meyer heard the crash and instinctively stooped down, covering his head with hands and dropping the spool. Wolfzon swore and Meyer rose up, to see his comrade take a joint out of his pocket and light it up with shaking hands. For once, Meyer didn't blame him. Three days ago, he was shining Serov's boots, while the lieutenant sat in the chair and tried to sharpen a pencil with his pocket knife. The knife slipped and cut into Serov's thumb. Spitting curses, Serov jammed the thumb into Meyer's cheek, smearing blood all over his face. That was too much even for a meek Jewish boy. He punched Serov and sent him to the floor. Serov flew at Meyer, shouting that he'll see him court-martialed for striking the superior officer. Nothing came out of it, though, because Serov was known as someone, who abused his soldiers, and was a raving anti-Semite, embarrassing even for the Russian army. Today, Serov chose Meyer and Wolfzon, the only two Jews in his unit, for this mission. They figured out why, when he refused
to walk with them. The Germans had time to lay mines somewhere in the vicinity, and Serov tried to use this opportunity to get rid of the hated men.
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Rimka didn't know that the wolves still lived in the forests, so close to Moscow. She lied about her age and managed to enlist in a women's brigade, sent to a farm to save the badly needed potato harvest, before the invading German Army would lay siege to Moscow. She lived to regret it.
How could she be so stupid as to run into the forest so late at night? She went to this farm to do something meaningful, to matter. The women in the brigade, however, immediately recognized a spoiled city girl, who didn't do a day's work in her life, and a Jewish one at that. They picked and picked on her, especially, that crazy Zoya. Today, Rimka couldn't stand it anymore, she lashed out, and she and Zoya had a terrific cat-fight, ending with Rimka running out of the hut where the gleaners lived and into the forest. She got lost immediately, poked here and there into the black prickly bushes, then found a clearing and decided to wait there until the morning. That's when she saw three pairs of glowing red eyed looking at her from the darkness. To say that she was scared was not enough. She felt sick with dread. She couldn't breathe or move. Then she heard her name shouted by several voices. The glowing eyes abruptly disappeared. After a few moments, Rimka found her own voice and called back. Zoya burst into the clearing. Her flash light beam danced around the trees crazily, then settled on Rimka. "Come on, you, stupid city brat", she said - "you cost us a whole night's rest!". Sobbing, Rimka clung to her enemy for dear life.
She didn't know, how could she, that a year and a half later, while on a recon mission for the forest partisans, the nineteen years old Zoya Kosmodemyanskaya will be captured by the Germans. She will be tortured and hung. She'll become one of the most revered Russian heroes.
MEYER
"Well, if I get blown to pieces, at least it'll be in paradise". Meyer looked around him in wonder. The blue haze of the approaching Moldovan evening covered the hills and the valleys. The tiny silver ponds shivered in the breeze, the alabaster lilies dancing on their surface under the clouds of gnats. The heather and the grasses gave off potent, head turning aroma. The frogs, the cicadas, just began their nightly song. And thousands of stars looked down at the Earth with consternation. Even the muddy road, where the soldiers walked, was glistening with unerring beauty.
The two soldiers plodded on, Meyer carrying the spool of telephone wire, about three feet in diameter, and Wolfzon - loaded with the tent, tools, wooden poles and the cooking utensils. He was also unreeling the wire from the spool on Meyer's back, laying a communication line for the approaching army. Usually, Lt. Serov would stride in front of them, unburdened, giving instructions and feeling important. Today he walked a quarter of a mile back, and the soldiers knew why.
Meyer heard the crash and instinctively stooped down, covering his head with hands and dropping the spool. Wolfzon swore and Meyer rose up, to see his comrade take a joint out of his pocket and light it up with shaking hands. For once, Meyer didn't blame him. Three days ago, he was shining Serov's boots, while the lieutenant sat in the chair and tried to sharpen a pencil with his pocket knife. The knife slipped and cut into Serov's thumb. Spitting curses, Serov jammed the thumb into Meyer's cheek, smearing blood all over his face. That was too much even for a meek Jewish boy. He punched Serov and sent him to the floor. Serov flew at Meyer, shouting that he'll see him court-martialed for striking the superior officer. Nothing came out of it, though, because Serov was known as someone, who abused his soldiers, and was a raving anti-Semite, embarrassing even for the Russian army. Today, Serov chose Meyer and Wolfzon, the only two Jews in his unit, for this mission. They figured out why, when he refused
to walk with them. The Germans had time to lay mines somewhere in the vicinity, and Serov tried to use this opportunity to get rid of the hated men.
Copyright protected
Wednesday, October 23, 2013
NO MEANS NO!
She lay down on the carpet, not wanting him to pick her up. What was it with that kid, anyway, grabbing her any time the fancy strikes him?! She has the right to say no, doesn't she? So, he is much bigger, so what? Does that give him the right to do what he wants with her? She did tell him to stop; that she was not in a mood for familiarities. It made no difference, whatsoever! He still grabbed her with those huge, almost hairless paws of his, grabbed and squeezed and prevented her from escaping.
OK, she should admit that some of his petting and scratching under her chin were not so unpleasant. Why did he stop? And just when she started to like it!
Not to appear like she was enjoying his attention, she gave another disapproving growl, that, to her, meant that she will fight him till the day she dies, but to him sounded like a cute murmur. She tried and finally wriggled herself out of his arms. His hands followed her to the floor and tried to entrap her once more. No way! Her back legs struck him quickly, like a bunny's, and deep, red scratches blossomed on his forearm. There! Now he will know that she was a real cat and not a toy for his amusement!
OK, she should admit that some of his petting and scratching under her chin were not so unpleasant. Why did he stop? And just when she started to like it!
Not to appear like she was enjoying his attention, she gave another disapproving growl, that, to her, meant that she will fight him till the day she dies, but to him sounded like a cute murmur. She tried and finally wriggled herself out of his arms. His hands followed her to the floor and tried to entrap her once more. No way! Her back legs struck him quickly, like a bunny's, and deep, red scratches blossomed on his forearm. There! Now he will know that she was a real cat and not a toy for his amusement!
GET IT?
Sonny's physics' teacher canceled the class today. As I picked Sonny up from the BART (Bay Area Subway system), we talked about the reason why this could happen. "I think," - said Sonny - "he just had a baby". "Mmm," - I answered - "yep, how often does that happen: a man having a baby?!" Without missing a beat, Sonny quipped: "Yeah, the physics of it!"
Monday, October 21, 2013
WHAT DID I DO? A short story, not at all about me.
I walk down a hot, empty street. Since I am going to live in this town, I'll have to remember that between the hours of twelve noon and two everyone tries to stay home. The heat is buzzing in my ears. A long boulevard stretches forever, dusty trees in the middle of it hopelessly offer their bitter oranges that no one can eat.
I don't even notice that I stopped. Thoughts in my head are as dusty and desperate as the trees. How did I end up here, many miles away from the cool, familiar St. Paul? What hope do I have now to ever see my loved ones or, at least, exchange a word with them?
Something wet and cold touches my hand. I reel sideways, my heart thundering wildly in my throat. A dog that stuck his nose in my hand also got startled. It jumps away, but as I call it, slinks back, tail between it's legs. Poor little beast has, probably, nobody to take care of it! I pet a small shaggy head. The dog offers me his paw and as I take it, licks my hand with a warm dry tongue.
I find a store, which was my reason to venture out of an air conditioned apartment. The dog stays outside, anxiously whimpering and keeping his eyes trained on the door. Without consciously making a decision to keep him, I pick up a bag of Alpo and a couple of bowls for food and water for my new pet.
The apartment manager is outside when we come back. She smiles at the dog tiredly and ruffles his fur, but tells me that I have to soon find him another home. "No pets allowed, dear!"
The nights are bad. I can't sleep and prowl the worn carpet in a tiny living room. Am I praying or just going mad? How am I to survive this intolerable separation from everything and everyone that I love? The dog watches me from a mat that I laid for him in the corner of the room. His head is on the front paws, the tail thumps the floor from time to time and the eyebrows go up and down in quiet empathy with my grief.
When I finally go to sleep, I pat the bed next to me and he jumps on and snuggles close.
The next day I have a visitor. The federal marshal in his civvies comes to check on whether I obey the rules of the program. He sits at a Formica table and automatically pets my dog, who is rolling his eyes in a fervent adoration for this new friend. We go through a familiar checklist. I try to beg the marshal to pass a letter to my family but he, obviously, puts on a harsh air for my own sake. He promises me that after the trial where I will be a witness, things might go back to where they were before. At least, my family will be told where to write to me. He reminds me to be careful and work on my new identity and leaves. I sob on the floor and the dog yips and licks the tears off my face.
Copyright protected
Copyright protected
So, to continue the experiment to see if my readers like the stories that I wrote in May better than day to day posts, I publish another part from Rimka story. Let's see!
RIMKA
When Rimka was ten, Yakov returned to Moscow with his new wife. Rimka was fascinated by her newly discovered parents. They were such a handsome couple, and they wanted to take her to live with them in Tashkent, the city in the Asian part of the country. She would've followed them to the Moon.
Tashkent was like nothing she ever experienced, yet she loved all of it: the heat of the streets, and the lush abundance of the gardens, the fruit growing everywhere. There were always people and the music playing at her parents' house. Her dad and step-mother would hug her between them and dance to the latest record.
MEYER
They lived in a small house in Moscow, sharing the yard with a few other families, their pets and flocks of fowl. Meyer had two brothers, Lev and Samuel, and one sister, Rachel, the undisputed ruler of them all.
The Grandfather was a grouchy, coughing, ever with his nose in the Talmud, presence. Once Jacob told him that, he couldn't catch his boys when he wanted to punish them. The Grandfather consulted the rabbi. The next morning, he and Jacob put the rabbi's advice to a test. Before the kids have woken up, the grown-ups tiptoed to their beds, yanked the blankets off and started to whip them with the belts! The mother, hearing the children's screams and the adults' shouts, flew to her brood's defense. She put herself between the belts and the boys, catching the blows on her back and yelling at her husband, who adored her, to stop the punishment. In a few minutes the boys were sitting in their sheets, still wiping tears and watching their father first hugging his wife in remorse, then admonishing her. She called him a crazy Pollack and kissed his cheeks and shoulders.
COPYRIGHT PROTECTED
RIMKA
| Bazaar |
.JPG) |
| Yakov, his new wife, Rita and Rimka |
| Tashkent |
Tashkent was like nothing she ever experienced, yet she loved all of it: the heat of the streets, and the lush abundance of the gardens, the fruit growing everywhere. There were always people and the music playing at her parents' house. Her dad and step-mother would hug her between them and dance to the latest record.
MEYER
.JPG) |
| Jacob and his wife, Anna. |
The Grandfather was a grouchy, coughing, ever with his nose in the Talmud, presence. Once Jacob told him that, he couldn't catch his boys when he wanted to punish them. The Grandfather consulted the rabbi. The next morning, he and Jacob put the rabbi's advice to a test. Before the kids have woken up, the grown-ups tiptoed to their beds, yanked the blankets off and started to whip them with the belts! The mother, hearing the children's screams and the adults' shouts, flew to her brood's defense. She put herself between the belts and the boys, catching the blows on her back and yelling at her husband, who adored her, to stop the punishment. In a few minutes the boys were sitting in their sheets, still wiping tears and watching their father first hugging his wife in remorse, then admonishing her. She called him a crazy Pollack and kissed his cheeks and shoulders.
COPYRIGHT PROTECTED
Sunday, October 20, 2013
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