Making things

So far today, I have made a rye bread starter (dunno if it will work...), rye cookies, and a painting. Except I am still not done with the painting. Here is what it's like so far:

























Let's hope I finish it. It's still not very detailed, and the window needs to be touched up a lot.

Da Ling and Siao Ling - Chapter 2 - The King's Law

Without stopping for breath, Ling the Younger ran exactly ten li*. Turned around-- the Monster wasn't chasing him. Then he stopped, caught his breath and started loudly calling for his older brother:
"Gege! Gege!"
But now he remembered that they had run in opposite directions. Who knows where his brother is now! Ling the Younger's eyes filled with tears. He wanted to cry but was too tired, and so he got comfortable in the grass and immediately fell asleep.

A crescent moon came up. In its pale glow, Ling the Younger's tears, not yet dried, shown like pearls.

Ling the Younger sleeps, he has slept for three hours now; how could he know that a new misfortune is already on the road and heading his way in the shape of two pompous noblemen!
One of the noblemen is a dog named Pip, and the second -- a fox, his name is Pippin. Both are dressed very tastefully. Particularly elegant is the hat on mister Pippin's head, looking much like a chrome bucket turned upside down. Perhaps that hat was made of silver, so strongly it glowed in the moonlight.

"I'm lucky today, my friend!" said mister Pip to mister Pippin, "Can you imagine it, this morning I found a completely new wallet on the road!"
"What was in it?" asked Pippin.
"You wouldn't guess for the world. A wallet full of flies!"
"Bother, a wallet with flies! That's not very tasty," answered Pippin, who was known as a rather learned fox and, of course, was very knowledgeable in all things gastronomical.
"Well then, what would you like to find, mister Pippin?" Pip asked, offended.
"In any case, something more edible than flies, mister Pip. Perhaps a small human."
"That's not all that difficult. I have a wonderful sense of smell. If there's any human around, I would definitely smell him out!"

And so conversing, they reached the very place where Ling the Younger was sleeping.

Pip actually jumped with pleasure.
"Mister Pippin! Mister Pippin! I told you we would find something edible! Ha ha!.. Well, of course! Here, look!"
Pippin scratched himself behind the ear and looked at Pip with envy.
And the latter was already sniffing over the sleeping boy and throwing looks full of obvious superiority at his friend.
"What do you think, mister Pippin, how much would I get for him if I sold him by weight?"
Ling the Younger didn't open his eyes.
"I want to sleep," he mumbled sleepily, "who's barking here?"
Pip laughed loudly:
"Well! You're unhappy that we bothered you? Then know: since I found you, you belong to me from now on. I can do whatever I want with you."
Ling the Younger got frightened, his sleepiness vanished -- things were getting bad!
"What do you want from me? I was just sleeping..."
"What do I want? I found you, and now you're mine. There's nothing more to it!" interrupted Pip.
"What do you mean -- found? What do you mean -- yours! I'm not yours, I'm my own."
"Well then! Don't believe me -- ask anyone you want, ask him!" and Pip nodded towards Pippin.
The latter jumped at Ling the Younger and dragged him by his ear, along the ground, towards mister Pip's feet.
"Our nation does have that law," said Pippin in a didactic tone of voice, forcing Ling the Younger to bow to Pip. "If someone finds an object on the road, and he likes this object, it then belongs to him. Mister Pip found you, so now you are his belonging. It's very simple, nothing to argue about."

Ling the Younger rubbed his eyes and, not understanding a thing, stared first at Pip, and then at Pippin.
"Well, I don't believe that a law like that exists!" he cried.
Pip answered:
"Whatever you want. You can believe it, or not believe it, but that's what's written in our law book. I found you, now you're mine. If you don't want to be mine, pay the ransom: a thousand gold bricks. Then I might let you go free."
Ling the Younger desperately tried to tear out of Pippin's prehensile hold, but Pippin was a lot stronger.
"I don't belong to you!" shouted Ling the Younger. "I don't have any gold bricks! I don't believe that law and I don't want to listen to it!"
"Then let's go and ask someone if such a law exists or not. Agreed?" offered Pip.
"Agreed! Let's go to the king!"
"Alright, if it's the king you want, we'll go to the king."

And so they went. Pip held Ling the Younger tightly in his paws, still worrying that me might run away.
"I appreciate your carrying me, mister Pip," said Ling the Younger, "but really, I'm not very comfortable: I can move neither arm nor leg."
Ling the Younger's calculations turned out to be correct. Pip had a lot of strength, but after walking several kilometers, he felt deathly tired.
"Poor mister Pip! Your legs are giving way!" cried Ling the Younger when the dog loosened his grip slightly. "Allow me to walk myself."
"Well, I guess that's alright."
But as soon as Pip let Ling the Younger down on the ground, he shot away from him as though he had grown wings.
In surprise, mister Pippin's ears, hidden under his hat, lifted so suddenly that his precious hat flew into the sky and hung off the crescent moon, not in a hurry to return to its owner. Pippin started crying.
"Oh! My ha-at!" he whimpered, looking entreatingly at Pip, "I have lost such a wonderful hat!"
But mister Pip didn't have time to look for anyone's hat. On all four feet, he set out to chase the boy. Pip ran, of course, much faster than Ling the Younger -- after all, he was descended from hunting dogs.

Oh no! Mister Pip's paws are stretching towards Ling the Younger. He's closer, closer!...
"Come one, Siao Ling! Go faster!" Ling the Younger encouraged himself.
The crescent moon ran along with them in the sky, not a step behind. And on its edge hung mister Pippin's hat, clanking in the wind. Only now did Ling the Younger realize that it was a regular tin bucket, and a toy one at that. He looked back, and in that moment Pip grabbed him by the collar.
"Consider yourself the best runner," said Ling the Younger sighing heavily.
"Talk, talk some more! You're going with me to the king. Let the king himself say whether you're mine or not."
And the dog dragged Ling the Younger to the city. The crescent moon with mister Pippin's hat floated after them.

And pipping was still whimpering. He was looking at his hat with sad eyes and squealing pitifully:
"What should I do? What should I do no-o-w?.."
"What are you whimpering about?" Pip attacked him, "This isn't worth an eaten egg: wait about two weeks until the moon becomes full again, and then your hat will simply fall down."
(tired of translating, will edit and finish later.)

Nocturnal

One of the bad things about depression is not just the worst days -- when you feel like it would be better to never wake up again -- but moderate moments when you feel that you COULD be happy, but for no reason you just aren't, and you can't reach that place. I know I SHOULD be happy, I could be -- I could dance like whirling dervish or research herbs or go to the meadow and make a broom out of tall flowers, but it is as though there is a sleepiness, a cloudiness, and I can't tear out of it. maybe it's this night, or my meds. I had to take a large amount of Midol earlier due to early menstrual cramps...
Speaking of, I wish herbs helped me with that. I love herbs -- I love picking strong smelling flowers and hanging them up to dry, and collecting nice jars for them, and putting together teas for myself -- but the three biggest problems for me are rarely helped by herbs. Those are cramps, insomnia, and depression. Granted, drinking motherwort tea once made me pass out from sleepiness, but it also almost made me throw up from the disgustingly bitter taste. Nothing is strong enough to do much to my depression except hard to obtain things that shouldn't be taken regularly (like kratom), and as far as cramps, well... the only thing that has ever helped was acetaminophen. Not aspirin, tylenol, aleve, motherwort, evening primrose -- it seems my cramps are all powerful. And it's not like I'm all that unhealthy, either...
I know I'm complaining a lot, but it's only because I just don't feel well lately, and it's something I can't seem to do anything about. When I am happy, I am probably happier than "regular" people because I have so much energy to do things -- unfortunately, most of that happiness is concentrated in the times me and Zoe used to hang out in Athens together. whatever odd, sad things happened, we could still stand by the train as it passed us, inches away, or walk down the train tracks pretending the sand is fairy dust, or walk around downtown and collect coins from the fountains to get lunch. It's better to be hungry, cold, or worn out with a friend and a purpose to your day than be full, warm, and relaxed alone inside a house with nowhere to go. Well, I'm hardly warm, but still, that's the gist of it.
I wish there was somewhere to go, and a friend... Zoe is miles away, and while me and Commrad have fun, he would be bored going down the street just talking. He would rather play a video game...
It feels like a have several homes, and I'm homesick for all of them. Moscow, dacha with all its flowers, NYC with its noise and interesting people, and Athens. But I can go to none of those places. If anything, it will end up worse -- I will be forced to move to some suburb and there will be no flowery meadows, no huge oaks; but no interesting people either, just SUV-driving Christian families that think I am "weird" and don't have a shred of imagination in their heads, only Happy Meals in their stomachs.