The Pony Express

John B. is officially my hero.
Why? Because today, Sunday morning, I got an USPS International express mail delivery. Of what? G2 Gel pen refills, because I was stupid enough to bring over to Moscow a bunch of my favorite pens, almost empty.
This delivery was especially poignant because I have been sick as a dog since Friday, when I lost *all* the contents of my digestive system in one really unpleasant night, and spent all day yesterday feeling like I had been hit by a train.

And it was funny, because I almost didn't answer the door. (We have a bell that rings the apartment, and I thought, what maniac is ringing the bell at 11am on Sunday morning?) It was the Russian postal service, with a delivery for Хопкинс (my name in Cyrillic). It was all very professional and so unlike what I imagine the Russian postal service to be like. I had to show him my passport and he had to take everything down, but I signed for it and, voila!

Its the little things in life that keep one going!

Now, in case I didn't broadcast this earlier, but Laura is ALSO my hero, not only for sending me a letter - yes a real bonafide letter - with a comic strip cutout too, from the states, but also for trekking down to Stanford while she was in CA to take digital photos of this pamphlet at the Hoover Institute, which they had repeatedly refused to ILL or photocopy for me, which is very relevant to the diss.

In case I have sufficiently guilted some of you into sending me stuff in the mail, my address is
Moscow 125009
Tverskaia Ul. d. 6 str. 3 kv. 308
Hopkins, Desi
Russia

Now I'm off to go eat more plain bread. Mmmm.