February 8
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In which we discuss the family businesses.

Okay, so it's not like we're some kind of Germanic mafioso or anything.  But, on the same token, it's never too soon for the kid to be thinking about how he plans to support his parents in their dotage.

Let's talk family.  Let's talk jobs.

When it comes to family, one of the first things you need to know is that we come from a long line of chewers and spitters.  Usually that involves tobacco, but there are members on both sides who are less particular.

The newest family member has the spitting down pat.  In fact, Owen can blow bubbles with his spit and run strands of it back and forth from book to Superman to rattle.  Take your chaw and do that, you Huey boys!

The chewing has proven to be a bit more challenging.

A little concerned about starting with tobacco first thing, Mom opted for pears instead.  Owen tasted them.  The look on his face said, "Intriguing, but how do I know you aren't poisoning me?  What do you say we go with the bottle?  That's always reliable."

So there you have it.  Perhaps we'll try again tomorrow.  And then, after that, tobacco.

Meanwhile, out the window, there was more evidence of Huey-like activity.  A huge crew was tearing a giant hole in the street.  "Your cousins do that," Robin explained.  Of course, there's one difference:  I don't think Little Mike or Mark actually stand in the hole while the steam shovel rips out concrete scant inches away.  (Look at the picture, left.  You can just make out the little man in the hole!)

Mom and Dad watched with almost gladiatorial enthusiasm for some time.  We couldn't help but wonder-- if the man gets crushed, would it be rude to ask for his hat?

Generally speaking, working on the road crew in Kokshetau isn't any fun.  The picture below the steam shovel matador shows another crew.  You can see it in this image, but if you enlarge the picture by clicking on it, you'll notice the man warming tea from an open steam pipe.  It doesn't take long to freeze out of doors here.

As a rule, living in Kokshetau proves out one of the theorems that helps to see me through life:  There is ALWAYS a job worse than yours.  Both of the above qualify.  We've discovered a few others.

One is Lyuba's job.  While we love and admire Lyuba, there is one element to her work we've spared you from.  An uncle of mine, Terrill, reminded me of it when he asked for photos of the toilets here to show his friends in the plumbing business.  (Remember, we're talking about family occupations here.  Family weirdness is a later journal entry.)

Anyway, in explaining that you can't put any paper down the toilet, I suddenly realized that somebody has to empty the little bucket by the stool.

Poor Lyuba.

Meanwhile, Robin demonstrates another job that will wear you down.  Pack Mule.  In preparation for (and, candidly, in eager anticipation of) our departure, we decided it might be time to introduce Owen to the frequent flyers' buddy, the Baby Bjorn.

He enjoyed it immensely.  Mom was less enthusiastic.

Exhausted from watching other people work, I happily accepted Lyuba's suggestion that we enjoy the warmer weather (it's THIRTEEN outside!  Hurray!) and go for a walk.  Clever marketing on her part as that will drum up some nice babysitting cash.  At this point in the stay, however, no price is too high for an opportunity to get out.  Off we went!

Along the way, we discovered one more job that wouldn't be a lot of fun:  Ice removal in Kokshetau.  At the left you can see Robin standing on the part of the sidewalk that's been chiseled out.  And, yes, that's a foot of ice next to her.

To make the streets passable, they don't actually chisel them all out-- just a few channels that, we suppose, help with run-off during the spring thaw.  For what's left, they put down a nice coating of sand.  The sand grinds into the ice and gives it a little traction.  In the few spots where it remains pure ice-- usually around the public water spouts-- the locals have become experts at flat-footed skating, even in high heels.  It's kind of fun to watch!

Sticking with our theme of working, we decided our walk should take us to visit the industrious folks at the Tsum.  (We also decided to go there because we don't know any other place within walking distance.)  Upon arrival, we decided it was important to support the local economy and inject a little cash into the system. 

We scored Owen his first Kazakh hat, which he models proudly at left.  We also bought some shampoo and a pot scrubber (ah, the luxury!) and, of course, we had to have one of the traditional Kazakh stuffed camels.

Yes, there does come a point, say after four or so weeks in Siberia, when you think 1800 tenge for a stuffed camel is not only reasonable, but an unpassable bargain.
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