On being the “American daughter”

Whilst finishing up my very first post just a bit ago, Nastya, seeing my light still on at a ridiculous hour of night, knocked on my door to see if she needed to turn off the light. She’s had to do this several times, especially the first week I was here, as I had a habit of falling asleep without meaning to, with the light on. Part of the weird limbo-jetlag-whattheheckishappening period, I guess. Anyway, this time both she and Tonya were still up writing essays, so they invited me to join them for чай (tea) – er, курземе, which is a sort of Russian Postum. (Ah, Postum, why did you have to leave me forever?) I said of course. I was up so late not just because of bloggin’ fever (I’m only just beginning to experience just how real it is) but also because I slept so much during the day, being sick and all, that I couldn’t sleep. So it was a crazysillygirls party in the Orlov kitchen, and literally everything that comes out of those girls’ mouths when they’re tired is HILARIOUS. Over the weekend at the dacha (post on that forthcoming) I finally started to absorb some of their mannerisms in a sort of concrete way (yeah, “sort of concrete” is oxymoronic but whatever) – meaning that I began using certain words and nonsense phrases they use, always followed by joyous celebrations on their part that I was assimilating to the family culture. Now it’s just easier for me to continue in that direction, so that I can be ridiculous and goofy with them and have some of the most fun I’ve ever had. I wish I could capture on video their interactions – tonight’s gems included Tonya grabbing Nastya in a sort of mock pas-de-deux pose, accompanied by an operatic note sung in goofball vibrato. Love them.