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Happy new year! As I type this, I think the date's rolled over in all the major time zones, or at least all the important ones; I honestly thought about trying to call home around midnight CST to wish everyone there greetings from the future, but when the right time actually rolled over I was too damn tired.

The holiday started with me oversleeping and missing one bus to Karaganda, almost two; as I approached the station the conductor asked me, "V Karagandu?"

"Da," I said.

She gave me a level look. "Bystro." Hurry.

Luckily I got into town and bought yarn to finish the black sweater, but not the red one—that lady had run out. Grr. I also internetted it up, and then met with MA at City Mall, where they were hosting a Novy God dance party featuring Ded Moroz and Snegurochka, Mickey and Goofy, and Donkey and Shrek. (I hadn't heard about the Shrek Christmas movie coming out until Channel 1 ran a story on the Russian dubbing process.) We contemplated the weirdness of the whole thing, then ran to MA's flat, where we collected the many salads her counterpart had made her, as well as some mail and her "Dr. Who" collection. The cat came home some time yesterday, so she was trying to consider how much allergy medicine she'd need and whether The Victor could get her anything stronger and less drowsy-making; she doesn't actually want to move, considering that her options are either a super-tiny flat with lots of kids or a family with some sketchy demands about money. (They wanted a full month's living allowance paid up front, for instance, and weren't going to put a lock on her door until they found out they'd get reimbursed for it—then they wanted to install a whole new door.)

We headed back to Saran, talking about politics and musicals and really wild things; I've been listening to altogether too much of the Dropkick Murphys lately, and so I was singing "Skinhead on the MBTA" under my breath most of the time. (Side note: I really like the Dropkick Murphys. Somehow I can imagine a modern-day Doyler Doyle listening to them.) It's kind of hard to reconstruct all the awesome that goes down when MA and I get to free-associating, so I took some notes on the edited highlights:

*On E and the age difference between us: "You're not robbing the cradle…he's robbing the grave."
*Zipper anxiety: "The fear that you won't be able to get it up when it really counts."
*"I don't often look at a bird and think, 'That is a crazy bird,' but seriously—I think that pigeon is insane."
"It's scared of the albino one though."
"That one's like the Pigeon of Valdemar."
*"Sometimes I wonder if Kim Jong Il isn't an elaborate publicity stunt perpetrated by a Japanese cereal company."
*"I'm Canadian—they say I'm slow, eh?"
*The phrase "Skeptical mushroom dance."
*"I'm not comfortable with the fact that the professor appears to be rimming the red M&M."
*At one point I compared the Universal Grammar to Microsoft Windows, and thought this was profound. Unlike MA, I did not have the excuse of Benadryl.
*We also decided that it was entirely possible that Daria Vladimirovna would freak out if MA wasn't home at a reasonable hour, and call the commandant of the Marine Corps. "Help! I have lost my volunteer!"
*Entertaining stories about middle/high school and ceiling panel hijinx abounded.

And, in re Dr. Who: "He has one constant companion—Jeff. The fluffy pink bunny. OF DEATH!"

So, we had tea, then tried to buy juice and a Novy God gift for Valya, only by the time we got out there was only one shop in all Site open and they wanted a thousand tenge for flowers. When Valya eventually went to her friend's apartment, we hung out here and knat and watched both the cracktacular Russian new year programming (featuring Maxim Galkin, MA's Russian boyfriend who kind of alarmingly resembles a skinny Michael Shanks circa SG-1 season 2) and half a season of Dr. Who, the Ninth Doctor. Yay for addicting your friends to new fandoms! (She left the other half of the season with me, since I'm going to be entirely too bored here over the next few days.)

I made sure MA got home all right, though it involved sending her off in a taxi with three strangers—they were all headed to the city center and the ride wasn't too expensive split four ways. Since then, Valya and I have been napping on and off, while I contemplate how The Doctor is kind of like Lenny from "Memento"—except instead of having no memory, it's just that most of his memories are irrelevant. Conclusion: I should not have deep thoughts about time travel and semiotics when I'm this sleep-deprived.

Oh, and I forgot to mention that Ded Moroz brought us a microwave for Novy God. Valya's cousin took her into the city to buy it, and we all spent a big part of the afternoon playing with it. It's seriously more fancy than some microwaves you can get in the US, and she's fascinated by its powers. Personally, I'm excited to have a way to reheat lunch that does not involve the potential for a gas explosion; the whole thing where Valya shuts off the balloon but not the burner is getting seriously silly.