If you have ever mowed your lawn and found a car...

I rule. I taught the good ol' Southern drawl in Monday and Tuesday's classes, and opened each class with a list of redneck jokes. Yes, the Jeff Foxworthy ones. Yes, it was hilarious. Russians learn the Queen's English in schools, so I got to hear redneck jokes told with those oh-so-proper clipped vowels...some of the students were really into it. I felt good because I was confronting the stereotypes about Southerners head-on instead of dancing around them or trying to ignore them, presenting them as a sad but true part of the American mentality.

And it was a good thing that went well, because my Russian lesson yesterday brought on a whole new source of frustration, better known as the accusative case. Russian nouns, like Latin ones, decline; they change endings depending on what part of the sentence they are. And of course they have gender. And the adjectives have to match. Aaaaargh. I relaxed with a trip to the piroshki cafe, where I successfully ordered and paid for a cabbage piroshki and one of my new favorites, this sweet cheese called tvorag, kind of like a cheese Danish.

One startling moment from my Russian lesson: I was telling Tanya in a very halting way about practicing the song over the weekend and the dog howling along, and she said, "Da, kak (like) hore." Me: "Huh?" Turns out the word "hore" means choir. So a smeli hore is a brave choir. Heh heh heh.

The warm snap has finally broken; today is chilly and gray. Some wealthy Americans are here to visit, and we're putting on a big do for them, including a balalaika concert that I'm really excited about. The guy is locally popular but apparently very talented; his son studies English here. We are disposed to feel kindly towards the Americans because they brought us a large stock of peanut butter and marshmellows (neither of which can be bought here).