Coffee.

I do not drink coffee. Sometimes I will drink a cappuccino if it is the only option to get a little water. But I am far from being a connoisseur of coffee. I was perusing recipes the other day and came across one for Coffee Cake (http://thepioneerwoman.com/cooking/2009/08/coffee-cake-literally/). Not the kind of cake you dunk in a cup of joe – nope, it is a cake made with coffee. It sounded interesting. I have always wondered if I would like the taste of coffee flavoured things … ice cream, chocolate, etc., so I decided to give it a try.

When I told Mum what I was making she wanted to know if I was “brave enough to actually try it and what was I going to do with the cake if I did not like it?” I had a plan for that dilemma -I turned it into cupcakes that way they would be easier to transport to my various coffee loving friends if (when) I discovered that I really just am not into coffee (I do love the way it smells when it is perking … ahhh).

I tried one cupcake pre icing and it was semi decent. Not overly coffee flavoured and not overly sweet, it was dense and kind of sticky – just there. Nothing special.

Then I made the icing. I tried it by itself off the spoon. All I can really say is YUCK!

Do not worry, I did also eat a cupcake (two actually) with icing on it. It was not bad. The coffee taste in the icing was cut quite a bit by the cake and that made it much better. I could eat a couple … here and there or one at a time, but to sit down and consume them in mass quantity … I just do not think I could do that. Plus, could you imagine the caffeine buzz that would create! Talk about jitters!

I know that I would not be much of a judge when it comes to coffee things. So I will pass them around to the various coffee people here and see what they think. I am just thinking that it will not become a staple in my dessert repertoire.

In case you want to give it a go: Coffee Cake. Literally.

Cake:
2 cups flour
2 cups white sugar
1/4 teaspoon salt
2 sticks (1 cup) regular (salted) butter
3 tablespoons instant coffee
1/2 cup buttermilk
2 eggs
1 teaspoon baking soda
2 teaspoons vanilla

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Grease and flour two round baking pans.

Add 3 tablespoons instant coffee to 1 cup boiling water. Set aside.
In a large bowl, mix sugar, flour, and 1/4 teaspoon salt.
In a separate bowl, add buttermilk, eggs, baking soda, and vanilla.

Combine above ingredients and pour into pans. Bake for 20 to 22 minutes or until set.
Allow to cool completely.

Icing:
1 1/2 sticks (3/4 cup) regular (salted) butter
1 pound powdered sugar
1 to 2 tablespoons instant coffee
1/4 teaspoon salt
2 to 4 tablespoons heavy cream (add as needed)

Combine all icing ingredients and ice cake. Chill for an hour before serving.

Upset Stomach.

**Do not read this post if you have a weak stomach. You were warned.**

In my previous post I wrote about several team members dealing with a “nasty stomach thing” – I also suffered greatly with the nasty stomach thing. It is a memory I am trying to forget. It was that bad. I will tell you the story because it will be funny and entertaining to you (whilst it still brings out a little bit of anger and bitterness in me) … and well, we all know your entertainment is what I am here for!

On this trip the team stayed in host homes (members of O’s church). The four team members from Kentucky and one translator stayed in one house and the doctor, his wife, myself and the other translator stayed in the other. Take note that I am living in the house with all nationals. In the wee hours of Tuesday morning I woke up to N throwing up in the sink in the shower room. Not long after that I found out that V and J were also taking turns throwing up at the other house. At this point, we did the scramble dance – found some other translators and pushed forward with the clinic for the day.

All day I felt kind of gross … my stomach hurt, I was nauseated and sometimes I felt dizzy and light headed. At lunch I ate rice and mystery meat, some tomatoes and cucumbers and I had a Sprite; thinking I just needed to eat and get some nutrition in me. It did not help – I maintained a level just below actively throwing up my guts the rest of the afternoon. At dinner I ate two bites of crab salad, drank some tea and quietly wished to myself that I could stick my finger down my throat and put an end to my misery. That was where the battle really was; I wanted to throw up and be done but I knew the conditions of the bathroom at my host home and the idea of holding my head anywhere near the toilet simply made me more nauseated.

I got back to the house where I was staying about 21:15 and took some antibiotics that the nurses from Kentucky had give me – thinking I could ward off the bacteria in my gut and the sinus infection developing in my head. That was all it took … those few quick gulps of water to swallow the pills sent my stomach into over drive and I barely made it to the toiled before I lost all the contents of my stomach. I have never thrown up with such force in my entire life. Never. It was so bad vomit was coming out my nose and tear ducts. After several minutes of retching over the wretched toilet and having to actually touch it; I felt so much better!

When I returned to the kitchen I was greeted by a panel of every national in my house. When the doctor looked at me and said “sit down, we have some medicine you need to take,” I should have just run. I should have run as fast and as far as I could. They had two packets of medication. One was a white powder and the other was a package of dark coloured pills. The instructions were to take the black pills and drink a concoction of boiled water with the powder mixed in. “What is all that stuff,” I asked? What ensued was a mixed up, messy effort of communication between a sick, American girl who speaks next to no Russian or Ukrainian and a bunch of exhausted non-English speaking Ukrainians and English as a third language translators. I finally pieced together that the black pills were charcoal pills and the panel of national experts were insistent that the white powder was “gatorade like” in that it would replenish the electrolytes and fluids in my body.

I felt bad and was beyond exhausted so in my frailty of mind I compromised. There was NO way I was going to take charcoal pills … I agreed to drink the liquid that would help me stay hydrated.

It took 45 minutes to make the concoction and then they told me I had to “drink a cup of it and wait to see if I threw up; if I did not throw up drink some more.” Those were the only directions I got as the whole entire rest of the house went to bed and left me sitting at the kitchen table with a terrible headache, a stomach ache, completely exhausted – holding a cup of lukewarm salt water. It was at this point I finally let myself cry. I just wanted my Mum. I drank the glass of disgusting fluid and headed to bed. I will admit that was all I had ever planned on drinking – one cup – that is all.

About ten minutes later I was throwing up again. I exited the toilet only to come face to face with A (the woman we were staying with) holding another cup of the drink. “Here, you need to drink this. It is good for you; it will make you feel better.” I tried to refuse but I had little strength to resist. I drank it and went to bed. About fifteen minutes later I was throwing up again. I managed to make it back to the bed without A catching me with a cup of the awful drink and I settled down and drifted off to sleep. Only about thirty minutes later A was waking me up with a cup of the liquid. “Drink” was the only command I got that time. We played this routine most of the night. Each time A made me drink, I would shortly have to return to the bathroom to empty the deepest depths of my stomach and then my bowels. I would throw up until I knew there could be nothing left in me. At one point I thought I would just throw up my intestines, I was dry heaving so bad.

I had enough. When A woke me up again at 3:45 to drink some more I got a little upset. I told her I did not want to drink any more, in fact I would not drink anymore. Every time I drank that awful stuff I would throw up. Then she looked at me and very clearly said “of course, it is supposed to make you throw up.” Excuse me?! Did you just say what I think you said?! It is supposed to make me throw up? “Yes,” she said “to help you get the bad things out of your body.” At the point there was murder in my heart! I could think of nothing nice towards my fellow house mates and I actually wished bodily harm on them (it was a weak moment … sue me). I could only conclude that they had given me some sort of ipecac in powder form. After a night of pain and suffering, it took several days for my strength and kind attitude to return – about the time we left.

Kentucky Represents.

My trip to Rovenki is over. My time there done. The team from Kentucky is safely back in the states and I am moving on with the now current tasks of life. It seems like a life time ago – but the experiences of the week are still quite strong in my mind (maybe because of all the reports I have written about the trip, haha).

This trip was a full scale medical mission trip. We had dozens of medicines, machines to test blood sugars, stacks and stacks of material for counseling sessions, nurses, a doctor, translators and a pharmacy technician. There was no doubt we were there to do business – and business we did. Over the course of four and a half days we were able to see and help 247 patients. That is nearly 55 people each day!

There were difficult moments. I never quite anticipated the scenario of what to do if I woke up one morning to discover both my translators and one nurse sick with a nasty stomach thing! God was gracious in our need and my friend O was able to find some other translators for the day and on a skeleton crew we worked it out. I was reminded moment by moment during the week of God’s promise … I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me. It was only in His strength that I was able to put aside my own nasty bout with the stomach thing and strive to serve the people of Rovenki and the team from Kentucky. Then of course there were the procedural questions, the necessity of maintaining a schedule, keeping open communication between our national friends and the volunteer team and just all the other little things that go along with a trip like this. Through it all, I believe that we were able to be a tool of the Father’s and share His love and care with these people.

Some of my favourite moments came during the counseling sessions that the nurses from Kentucky did. They had the foresight to bring along some educational material in Russian/Ukrainian for the patients. Information on things like how to quit smoking, diabetes, heart disease – you know medical information. It turned out to be one of the greatest assets of our clinic. The doctor was able to see the patients and if he felt they needed some extra time and information about what was going on in their lives he would pass them back to one of the nurses for a time of private consultation. It was in these sessions that the nurses were able to share deeply of themselves and Christ’s love. Several times I would catch a glimpse of one of these sessions and there they would be – three women (nurse, translator, patient), who up until a few moments ago had been complete strangers, huddled together sharing stories of life, tears of struggle and fear and then finally sharing an embrace of love and hope.

I am ever grateful to the team from Kentucky for allowing themselves to be used by God among the people of Rovenki.

Has Returned.

To the land of ...

... running water.
... hot running water.
... fruit.
... a bed to myself.
... a house with no crying children.
... clean dishes.
... my own stash of stomach medicine.
... a walk way free of duck poop.
... cereal for breakfast.
... toilet paper not made from recycled egg cartons.
... Internet.
... McDonald's.
... familiar faces.

It is nice to be back in Kyiv. Yesterday, when the train pulled into the station downtown I smiled at the beautiful cool day and its bright sunshine that welcomed me home. It is always nice to be home, but this time it was really nice to be home.

Jet Plane.

More like ... slow train.

I am heading out east tonight with a volunteer team from Kentucky. We are going to a small village called Rovenki to do a free medical clinic for the people who live in the village and surrounding area.

This area is home to some significant coal mines and whilst Ukraine was under Soviet control the government would ship criminals and undesirables to this area to work the coal mines. Since the pull out of Soviet control (and money) the area has struggled financially; as there was no infrastructure to support the mines once the money left. The mines have become privatized and there is some resurgence in the quality of life for those living in the area. They are however, a hard and dark group of people. There are significant drug problems and a large portion of the population lives on the street. They have lived in hard times and have established their own way of thinking - the condition of their lives reflects all of those experiences. My friend O, who we will be working alongside has been redeemed from this exact lifestyle and now works to help others to find a better way of life.

I am excited about the experiences and interaction of this trip. I believe that it will be a great and challenging time. These are always the times (if I am watching), I see Him work the greatest. To infinity! And beyond ...

From A Peach.

What follows is an account of what happened to my recent purchase of several kilos of peaches. Oh, they were so good and fresh. They smelled wonderful and were juicy and sweet. Pure bliss!
I decided to give freezing a go (thanks to some inspiration from Mum and her cousin KH). I ended doing an whole gallon sized freezer bag full. They have been peeled, sliced, dipped in lemon juice and frozen solid! I already know they will be a wonderful treat come December or January.
The rest of the peaches donated themselves to my first ever peach cobbler! I did not want to get stuck eating the whole thing myself (that just does not bode well for race training) so I put out a message to my friends that I wanted to make a cobbler - but I did not want to eat it all myself. Several friends graciously volunteered to come over and help me with that delima! Sorry, the picture is of a half eaten cobbler ... I was to excited when it came out of the oven to stop and take a picture. Haha. I love peaches. Yeah for peaches.

Life.

Sometimes it just hits you …

There is the moment when I realise my concrete ideas and understanding of what and why I am here melt into an abstract form. In the end the abstract devolves further to become a brownish glob of confusion, second guessing and frustration with myself.

There is the moment when someone not on my “reasons to return home” list gets sick or has a scare of serious sickness. And I come face to face with the reality of my non-emotional choices of when to stay and when to go.

There is the moment when the struggles and issues other’s have comes crashing into my house. It effects my living situation, my choices, my attitude and my future. I did not ask for it, but it came.

Then there is the moment when my best friend faces one of those issues that changes their lives forever. They are tasked with making decisions that will forever alter who they are … where life will never be the same. And I am not there to be useless in person with them. I cannot offer the hug that I so desperately want to give; I cannot offer action to back up my words. I can only sit here, on this side of the ocean and wish differently for them.

Once when we were visiting my Granny and Grandpa, my brothers and I were playing with a pony that one of our relatives brought over. The boys were acting like they were in a big thriller action movie – being cowboys chasing bad guys and shooting each other then falling off the pony as they died – as one of the boys fell off the pony he freaked out a bit and grabbed the poor animals ear in an effort to soften his own fall. For obvious reasons the pony did not like that. In response, the pony reared his back legs and landed a swift kick, square in the middle of my chest (thank you Jesus for sternums). It knocked the wind right out of me and I could not breathe. Eventually I could breathe again (and my fright over the situation was quickly replaced with anger at the dumb boys for pulling on the pony’s ear and making him kick me). As I headed to the bath that night, I noticed a bruise in the shape of a perfect horse shoe. It was turned upwards and Grandpa said it was turned that way because it was holding in all the good luck for me not to have gotten hurt.

That is how I feel now, like I got kicked in the chest. Only this time, I have to choose how I quickly and well I recover. I want to let all these circumstances that have hit me in life right now become a part of me. I want them to seep into all areas of my life so that I can continue to grow but I want that to happen without them turning me upside down to let all the good in my life fall out and slip away. I want desperately for my bruise to be turned upright to hold in all the blessings of my life.

Do You See It.

What do you think!? Appropriate use of English grammar?!

I always want to take pictures of the English that people put on signs, clothes, bumper stickers and billboards. Except more often than not, even if I decided to take a picture of it I could not and would not publish it. The use of the English language is creative and quite vulgar mostly. I wonder if they understand the usage and do it on purpose or if it is simply lack of education in English that produces these things.

Today, I saw this shirt and laughed. And I will not even guess how much he paid for it! Lovely, eh.

And Then It Was Fall.

I suppose I should have expected it - I am the one who wrote about summer and how much I was enjoying the fruits of the season. I just never dreamed I would be writing about fall so quickly ...
This morning on my run I noticed some of the aspen trees beside the road (I really have no idea what kind of tree they are ... they just look aspenish). I did not notice them because of their striking contrast of green leaves with white and black bark. Sadly, not. They caught my attention because of the bright yellow leaves that were beginning to mix with the green ones.

With the cool temperatures and wetter weather this week, I should not be surprised by the leaves changing. I am not exactly sad about autumn - I really like autumn! I am just more aware of what season is next ... haha!

There You Are Summer.

It it 6 August ... according to the calender anyway. Which means summer is wrapping up. Which means I am lost and confused. If summer is nearly over, why am I just now getting to the highlight of fruits and vegetables?!

It seems like only last week I started seeing really good peaches, grapes, melons and watermelon. These are fruits of summer and I am just now getting them. The colors at the renok are bright and happy. I can walk through the renok by the metro and simply breathe in the smells of fresh fruits and vine ripened tomatoes. The squash and eggplant are huge and the millions of varieties of berries is mind blowing. Oh! And the corn! I got some yesterday that was simply divine. Some people are buying produce a couple pieces at a time (me) and others are buying it by the kilo to replenish the winter stock piles.

I wish I knew more about canning, freezing and prolonging all the wonderful deliciousness of fruits. I would love to buy dozens of mouthwatering peaches and stash them away in my little freezer for a cold and dreary day in December. Two major problems with that thought ... first, I have no idea how to do it and second, did you catch the "little" part of the statement about the freezer?! Tiny might be more appropriate. Still how many peaches does one really need for a cobbler? It cannot be that many.

I love shopping the renok, wandering leisurely through the rows ... looking, smelling, talking, laughing and interacting with the vendors. I nearly died on Tuesday when I stopped to get my daily peach and the woman recognized me and greeted me with a hearty wave and a smile. There is just something about fresh fruit and vegetables that helps you forget the misery of the sweat dripping down your back and legs, leaving a trail of puddles behind you. For a moment, I can even forget I still have to walk all the way home ...

Round 2.

I would like to say the score is Me 1 Hot Water 0. Since the hot water can come and go when it wants and I am completely at its mercy when it does; truthfully, I think the hot water is winning!

I was making corn bread yesterday for dinner; I had just greased the pan and had left over butter on my fingers. I reached for the hot water so I could rinse the greasiness off my hands and move on with my dinner preparations. I stood their waiting for the water to get warm for quite some time before I began to realise - the water was most assuredly NOT getting warm. I turned the faucet completely to the hot side and still nothing. The hot water was gone.

The sign downstairs (from what I could piece together ... it is in Ukrainian) suggests the hot water will be back on the 7th. Just in time for the tenants of the building to carry forward with their refusal to pay the new utility tariffs and for us to lose our hot water because of unpaid bills.

Oh the joys!