Наши любимые дети

Yeah, I know, I haven't post much, but I'm still here lurking everyone else's journals daily. Anyway, who cares? Right now I enjoy my very-very-very long hiatus; that means no law for 2 months, because I've passed my practice exam already, so I can sleep till noon, read anything I ever wanted to read and try to quit smoking for hundredth time or so.

I spent this year's NY and Christmas at home and I tried to make the last one as much traditional as I possibly can. My cooking skills are disgusting, but you know what's worse? My mom's cooking skills are same cap. So we made this goddamned wheat thing with lots of raisins and - how you called dried apricots? - and huge amount of honey, that we call "kutya" - one of the Christmas traditional dishes symbolize richness and fertility, and thought that's enough. We drank cheap wine, ate our kutya in half-ruined kitchen, and it was really weird, but awesome.

I've spent only 2 weeks at home and I've read more books than I did in, like, last two months. I just have finished "East of Eden", and it's like. Oh my. I'm feeling like I wanna merry Steinbeck and make plenty of children with him, because. I don't know. I'M FANGIRLING A MAN WHO DIED NEARLY 50 YEARS AGO OKAY THANK YOU FOR YOU TIME. Earlier I read "Winter of Our Discontent". And "Grapes of Wrath"(well, this one doesn't look way too much hilarious to me, but for this I have these pretty little hearts in me eyes). And "Of Mice and Men" - God, he'd written so much. But after Palahnyuk and Koupland nobody hasn't hit me so hard that I almost had a happy nosebleeding. Almost.

My language skills are still even more disgusting that cooking ones, but I work on it. Once I have tried to translate a football RES fic, but the comments were - um, they weren't the nicest words I ever heard, but still they weren't the worst. So I, you know, left my attempts for good times, but. I'm translating one fic that I'M IN LOVE WITH, and as I'm not planning to post it or even show it to anybody, I thought I didn't need any permission from the author. Am I right? I don't know. And you know what? I haven't feel so light-hearted in months. I mean, it exists only in my notebook, and a thought that nobody has seen it and nobody knows that it even exists give me this strange slightly perverted pleasure. For those who think that my English is so poor, that I can only translate advertisments in public transport and inscriptions on the sides of cornflax boxes, I can say - you are completely, hilariously right. But still. I'm doing it, I like it, and it's almost legal. What else?

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