I'm too tired to think of a good title.

Dear sweet good heavens above. It's been a long time, hasn't it? Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you all, but I have not been kidnapped by the mafia, or mauled viciously by a polar bear. I am still alive and well and un-mauled. Just...er...not writing.
I really am sorry for not writing so long--it's just that my brain runs on half Russian and half English, so to get everything clicking 100% in English is kind of a pain. Plus, my Russian skills plummet for the next half hour or so while I reacclimate to the frigid world of Russian consonants. Ah, Russian consonants...but I digress. I actually had specific things to tell you!
A world, a WORLD I tell you, of adventures have happened since I last wrote you, oh audience mine. The alcohol-soaked parties I avoided! The Pumpkin That Time Forgot! The Presentation That Will Not Die! Host Family Adventures! All is well this side of the globe. The weather has warmed up, to everyone's delight, to a bizarre and toasty -10 degrees Celsius (this actually is toasty. We're breaking out the t-shirts.) My Russian skills are getting better, and I've seriously hit the grammar books again, so I'm whipping out superlative adjectives left and right, comparatives, adverbial phrases--everything to warm a grammar-maven's cold, cold heart. But as usual. I digress. Allow the story-telling to procede.
The Presentation That Will Not Die.
Every student is required to make a presentation to their hosting rotary club. This presentation is usually about themselves, their homes, their lives in their host countries, their lives in their country of birth, yada yada yada. I have the horribly bad luck to have entered the country after Eddie. Eddie is the Australian living in Barnaul. During his presentation, he danced. He sang. He had pictures and flashing lights. He raised money. Eddie is legend in Barnaul. I do not dance. I do not sing. I have no pictures.
So anyway, what with one thing and another, I still haven't done my ACTUAL presentation for my rotary club. I did a presentation in school (for, like, three classes in a row.) I've talked to English classes, journalism classes, society classes. I gave a (very) brief presentation in Tomsk for the Tomsk Rotary Club. I gave a presentation (which was a nightmare) for the OTHER Rotary club in Barnaul. And now I have to do it for my club.
Plus, due to legalities (you can't do your presentation for someone else's club before you do it for your own) the other rotary club has decided I get to do ANOTHER presentation for them. This presentation just will not die. It's like a terrible horror movie.
The Pumpkin That Time Forgot
So. In a fit of holiday warmth and friendliness, I decided to bake a pumpkin pie. Oh, naive, naive, American (who doesn't know how to make umlauts and therefore cannot actually speak "naive" correctly...). The Russian for that is "byedni ribyonak!" (poor child!) I hear this phrase a lot, and therefore learned it very quickly. What I did not consider was that, a.) in America, we use canned pumpkin and usually, frozen crusts. b.) In Russia, there are neither canned pumpkin nor frozen crusts. c.) Heavy Whipping Cream and brown sugar are surprisingly difficult to translate, but even more difficult to find. I have no engaged in a struggle to the death with the supermarkets of Russia, whose employees sturdily refuse to admit they can understand my Russian. I KNOW THEY UNDERSTAND ME. They just don't know it yet.
The one difficult ingredient I have succeeded in finding was the pumpkin, ironically enough. The pumpkin was a gift from the secretary of our rotary club, who gave it to me at one of our rotary meetings. I got some rather strange looks. That pumpkin is currently deep-frozen in the car's trunk. It's Russia. Who needs refrigerators? That thing is preserved for time everlasting.
Host Family Adventures!
So. I've been in the process of switching ye olde hoste familie for about er...a few weeks...or so now. Well, I mean, the process got running about a week and a half ago, but it's late by a few weeks, so I've been worrying about it. Worry counts as part of the process, right? Well, anyway. The rotary club decided I go to one family...thought about it...thought about it...didn't answer cell phones...and then, decided on another family. I have no idea what's happening. Or who. But I do know that this Sunday night, I am sitting down to dinner with Host Families Past and Future, and then leaving in a car for a new future. I feel like Ebenezer Scrooge, with his Christmas spirits past and future and all that. It's all good.
And--word has it I'm heading to Tomsk for New Years! Par-tay! (I really, really, really, hope I don't end up with anyone who goes clubbing for New Years. If anyone, and I mean anyone, tries to take me to a club for New Years....grrr....) So I'm voting Novokusnyetsk. But all is unknown. The future is ahead. The past is behind. More perfectly obvious stereotypical phrases to come.

Quote for the Day:
"This language is kicking my ass." --The Spirit of Exchange Students Trapped in Russia. Excuse my French, please. People who actually speak French...sorry.