January 27
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In which we fill our empty social calendars.

It's a big world out there, friends, and we're only going to be on this half of it once (ribbons around trees aside).  Better find some buddies while you can.

In the case of young master Owen, there were two.  The first was Nurse #4, Olya.  Mommy and Daddy are kissing up to the nurses BIG TIME.  As part of the adoption ritual, prospective parents are asked to bring eight diapers with every visit to the maternity hospital.  We've been sweetening the pot, so to speak, with a little gift stuffed in amongst the britches.  You'll be envious-- they're Post-it Notes.  Two colors, two kinds (with and without lines).  On a big day, we toss in one of the uber-kewl high-lighter pens that has the Post-it page markers.

Krazy Amerikanyetc!

Still, I've heard that people in this part of the world love paper products.  (One of the last families to travel hear thrilled the housekeeper by giving her their half-used lint roller.)  I can understand why.  Their toilet paper could buff wood to butter smoothness.  Even so, I've felt guilty enough about these lame gifts that I've substituted chocolate bars on a few occasions.

More importantly, though, the gift-giving seems to be paying dividends.  We're getting a zdrastvooytyeh (hello) when we arrive and a paka! ('bye!) when we leave.  (At first, the pick-ups and drop-offs were very silent.)  They're even lifting the edge of the burrito so that Owen can grin at us as he goes.

We have two big goals.  First, we want to try and arrange an interview with them on video about what Owen's been like as a baby.  We thought it would be fun for him when he's older to see them and hear them speaking in Russian.  Second, we're hoping for a backstage pass to the crib area so we can see where Owen sleeps.  It's all very mysteri-oso!  Even Inna can't go back there unless she takes off her coat and puts on a nurse's cover (which, interestingly enough, is floral).

I asked Inna about that today.  She said it helps to make sure that no one is on the floor who isn't supposed to be.

Anyway, Owen's second buddy, in case you hadn't guessed from the pictures, was Superman!  I'd give the introduction a four on a scale of ten.  It seems the Man of Steel is no match for the Squishy Turtle when it comes to winning our boy's affections.

I, of course, am not yet giving up.

For Mom and Dad, there's very exciting social news.  We've invited the Peace Corps boys over for dinner tonight.  It was rather amusing-- I called last night to extend the invitation.  Ryan said he'd love to, but didn't think he could make it until next week.  He said he'd call his friend and then call us back with a date.

Ten minutes later the phone rang.  "What were we thinking," he told Robin.  "We're bored out of our minds.  Can we come over tomorrow?"

So we're planning a dinner party Kokshetau style.  I think it is important to note a little something about Robin's and my cooking skills.  They were rudimentary in Kansas City.  They're an experiment in survival here in Kazakhstan.  Some of our attempts to date:

Grilled cheese -- set the butter on fire, smoked out the kitchen.
Garlic fries -- set the oil on fire, smoked out the kitchen.
Chicken and rice -- baked everything into the metal pan; took a chisel to remove it.
Stir fry -- actually turned out decent.

It's important to note that we ate-- strike that-- devoured everything listed above.  It's amazing what you'll eat when you can't get Pizza Hut on speed dial.  In fairness to us, however, the oven and stove here are gas and they come with two heat settings:  Conflagaration and Inferno.

Still, our cooking seems a cruel trick to play on those poor Peace Corps boys...

...of course, they've invited us to take an hour long bus ride this Sunday to have an authentic, home-cooked Kazakh meal.  If necessary, I'm sure they can get their revenge then.
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