lost in the echo in 2013-2014

PMS hit with the delicacy and concern of a drunk driver in a dump truck. I have spent all week... sleeping, mostly. No joke. Fatigue is a bitch. I probably need more iron and protein to compensate, but my goodness, all I have wanted and been able to do is sleep. Long naps and early bedtimes all week. On Thursday, I had a vivid dream about explosions and machine gun fire (probably courtesy of my Ukraine reading) and my alarm clock was just another siren. I woke up 15 minutes after I'm supposed to be clocked in and had to call in, saying I'd be in after lunch. An hour after getting to work, the period actually started. Thank God this crap will end. The Warrior Dash is next weekend, and I'd reeeally rather not slough through that bloated, fatigued, and needlessly sore.

Thursday night was also the first round of the NFL draft, so instead of showering and grooming and cleaning like I really needed to, I sat at my computer with chips and a drink watching the live stream, with my dirty hair tied up and wearing a 15-year-old Christian boyband shirt and boxers. I am so very fortunate (#blessed) (that was a football joke please don't kill me) that Aaron considers this behavior, particularly when paired with squealing and dancing, to be adorable. (Kelvin went in the first round! My babies are successfully growing up and getting paid!)

Friday night was much the same. I put the second and third rounds up on the computer, but also did productive, hygienic things like take out the cat litter and recycling and catch up on dishes and laundry. So now when I take an epic shower tomorrow, I will at least have clean things to put on afterward. That would... be a challenge tonight. I also need to vacuum and spot-clean the carpet tomorrow, because some delightful dog got into the empty-save-for-crumbs-and-lemon-wedges trash this afternoon. And then ate something disagreeable and promptly pooped. Thanks, dog.

While walking Sheppy around our usual haunts this afternoon, I found what appears to be a hobo nest tucked under some overhanging branches, backed up against a big vertical rise about thirty feet tall. I live on top of that rise (we come down a steep, cutback trail). Sheppy's after-dark poop walks have been officially cancelled, because that is freaking creepy. It's a loosely organized pile of old bedding with some random personal things on top. So it's either a pile of junk dumped neatly in a sheltered area, or it's a hobo nest. Hoping for the junk, changing walking habits in case of nest.

Found a penny today. Feel lots of determination and encouragement. Not quite panicking yet, but still noting the pass of every day. I'm going to start packing this weekend. Show of faith, expediting, preparing, all that.

Finally, and perhaps most exciting, I've volunteered and been accepted to be one of many people translating and editing information and articles coming out of Ukraine. I've spent all day looking up Ukrainian grammar as compared to Russian (sooo close, yet so different--the alphabet is slightly different, as well). I'm going to have to make reference charts! Yay charts! Might as well throw BCS on there, as well, although that's in a different Slavic family and technically three languages mashed into one. I was looking over the style guide (transliterations, strong feelings for the serial comma) and the glossary of lesser-known defense industry terms and acronyms and felt pure glee. This is excellent. This can go on a resume and be editing/translation samples. This is legit--foreign officials take these editorials and tweet/reference them. The editing chat is very informal, fun, and relaxed, and full of people asking translation questions and discussing who has done what and is calling dibs on what documents, requesting backup, what have you. I have an excitement and I can't wait to start.

It's language practice. It's vocab practice. It's everything I need to continue my Slavic language studies, without tuition or textbooks or mandatory attendance policies. It's remote, it's legit, it's perfect for my needs and it's also practical and helpful and necessary.

Because peacekeeping through superior firepower! Dammit, Russia.

Sooo there you have it. Still not moved, still not job-offered, thwarted by ridiculous hormone surges, and all sorts of security-linguistic nerdery is afoot.