February 6
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In which plans go awry while life remains quietly happy.

All the way through the night, my friends.  Owen slept all the way through the night.  He must have known it was Dad's turn to get up with him.  He must have known Dad could sleep through a chainsaw.

This is not where plans go awry, incidentally.

The rest of the world runs pretty well on routine, as well.  Up at seven, fresh diaper, fresh bottle.  Could be a little snappier with the bottle, we're told, but otherwise the Master seems pleased with his puppets.  Sadly, he can only give them about two hours worth of his attention and then it's off to deal with pressing matters in Snoozeville.

The puppets are getting good at timing these little sojourns however, and, as you may recall from yesterday's journal, they had big plans to enjoy a lunch of "dirty tchassliki."  (I'd originally spelled it "schessliki," but subsequent hearings have prompted me to reconsider.)

This, incidentally, IS where plans go awry.

We heard from Peace Corps Ryan.  P.C. Bryan had not yet had the chance to inform him of the plans for lunch.  No problem.  Dinner instead?  Maybe, but will Nannies of Kansas City make a housecall on the far side of the world?  Lyuba is more of an afternoon option.  Perhaps the McCalls can be convinced?  It will have to wait until after they return from their visit with their little boy.

Still, we gotta get outta here.

Starving and desperate for some scenery, the Puppets secure the lunchtime babysitting services of the incomparable Lyuba and go off on a mission to find the elusive Nutrilak and perhaps brave a cafe without an interpreter.

Five-pound Russian/English dictionary in hand, we make the requisite pantomime for Lyuba and hit the streets.  Freedom has a smell, my friends.  It smells like car exhaust.  It smells sweet.

We hit two baby magazins.  "Eez-va-neetch-a.  Pah-zha-lus-ta, Nutrilak?"  The answer in both places is "Nyet" followed by several sentences that we've interpreted to mean "How many times do we have to tell you?  There's no Nutrilak in the whole city!"

If you'd like to hear what that sounds like, write down the alphabet.  Erase all of the vowels.  Pronounce it.

Rats.  Well, of course you can't go shopping and come home empty handed.  A wash cloth and a tea strainer later and our pockets are lighter by about 170 tenge.  Good-bye, precious dollar.

From there it's off to the Rainbow Cafe or, I believe, the Radyooza Kafe.  You can see a picture of Robin standing outside of it at left.  The door's locked!  How can this be?  Don't these people know that we're hungry?  Ah, well.  Back home to make new plans.

The McCalls have returned by then and, bless 'em, they've brought lunch and have a dinner plan of their own.  Can the P.C. boys come?  Sure.  Excellent.  We'll have tchassliki another day.  (This is SUPER excellent because it promises an activity at some point in the future.  I can't even put a price to this value.)

To thank them for the magnanimousness, I offer to play tour guide and take them to the fabled Tsum store (pictured, finally, at left; the McCalls are seen by the World War II memorial) where we can buy much coveted treasures.  Specifically, we scored a coffee cup, plastic pitcher and a bag of almonds.

Is your heart beating faster from all the excitement?  Mine, too.  I may have to lay down before the guys come over.

Welcome to the start of week four in Kokshetau.
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