Russians love their proverbs, sayings, and aphorisms. Our everyday conversations are peppered with clichés and common expressions. Every life situation warrants one of those proverbs and we don't shy away from using them left and right. So, it's not surprising that over the past few weeks I've been a victim of saying those clichés over and over again in my head: What doesn't kill us, makes us stronger; This too shall pass; and, my favourite, the one that came back to me again and again, Man proposes but God disposes.
January was busy. I was working on a personal project that never saw the light of day and was cooking and photographing a lot. We were supposed to start major renovations in February, so I hoped to build a cache of recipes that I'd be able to post in the weeks if I wouldn't be able to use the kitchen. Well, just as that proverb said I proposed something, but fate intervened and humbled me.
I got really sick four days before the renovations started. For the next three weeks I was barely conscious, while living a life of a nomad and moving between my home, my mom's apartment, and my dad's house. I spent hours sleeping, crying, and sitting at the doctor's office. After three weeks of staying home I finally got a bit better and, eager to escape the confinement of a bed, went back to work, just able to function properly for the allotted eight hours, and then travelling home and collapsing back in the current bed I was using.
I am back home now as the renovations finally finished last week. I lost count of how many weeks it has been since I felt normal. I think almost seven. My exploits in the kitchen now consist of toasting a piece of bread and slicing a cucumber. It's nothing serious, and I feel better every day. I hope to feel good enough to be able to cook something for Easter, first time making a meal in two months, but as I just learned - Man proposes but God disposes - I am not making and real plans.
So, here it is. My explanation of why I was gone and a hope (a promise) of a return.