RUBbette Wives & Housework, si man

[baron555 934]

She is definitely not the TomBoy type.

I can't say my wife is the TomBoy type but she is definitely no girly girl either.

She helps with my house repair chores no problem......just replaced the door from the kitchen to the garage and it turned out so well.......well, have to replace the patio door next weekend !!

So back in the back forty (we have 5 acres) I have a 40 foot by 70 foot fenced in area that I used for Agility training with my dog). He's retired now so the area was not in use and Alla determined with it being higher up on the rise where the back land slopes down towards the creek, it would have better drainage than the usual garden spot in the old paddock next to the barn. So this past Spring I tilled up about 2/3 of it and she and another Russian lady who she met put in a massive garden this year; growing a little bit of everything, even some exotic stuff from Russia/Eastern Europe. The two ladies, on their own, maintained and watered this area virtually every day.

Anyways, I came home a little late the other night and find Alla in the back turning over the soil, etc. As we all know it's getting darker every evening. Being the manly man, I proceeded to repair (replace bulbs) in the four halogen lights I had installed..."OK, now you can shovel all night!".

And yesterday, for about the fifth weekend in the a row, we drove the tractor and cart (10 CF) to the neighbors across the street where we shoveled and hauled back two cart loads of horse manure. Some she's tilling into the soil for next year and the remainder goes into one of two large compost piles we have going.

She had had McDonalds once prior to coming to the US. Since being here, we've been there twice, once just to try another wonderful American invention....the drive thru.... and the other just to get Leonid from frys.

Both do love "Papa's Burgers", home ground Angus mixed with onion soup mix, served with lettuce, tomato and cheese on home baked bread.

[Gary and Alla 3,696]

I can't say my wife is the TomBoy type but she is definitely no girly girl either.

She helps with my house repair chores no problem......just replaced the door from the kitchen to the garage and it turned out so well.......well, have to replace the patio door next weekend !!

So back in the back forty (we have 5 acres) I have a 40 foot by 70 foot fenced in area that I used for Agility training with my dog). He's retired now so the area was not in use and Alla determined with it being higher up on the rise where the back land slopes down towards the creek, it would have better drainage than the usual garden spot in the old paddock next to the barn. So this past Spring I tilled up about 2/3 of it and she and another Russian lady who she met put in a massive garden this year; growing a little bit of everything, even some exotic stuff from Russia/Eastern Europe. The two ladies, on their own, maintained and watered this area virtually every day.

Anyways, I came home a little late the other night and find Alla in the back turning over the soil, etc. As we all know it's getting darker every evening. Being the manly man, I proceeded to repair (replace bulbs) in the four halogen lights I had installed..."OK, now you can shovel all night!".

And yesterday, for about the fifth weekend in the a row, we drove the tractor and cart (10 CF) to the neighbors across the street where we shoveled and hauled back two cart loads of horse manure. Some she's tilling into the soil for next year and the remainder goes into one of two large compost piles we have going.

She had had McDonalds once prior to coming to the US. Since being here, we've been there twice, once just to try another wonderful American invention....the drive thru.... and the other just to get Leonid from frys.

Both do love "Papa's Burgers", home ground Angus mixed with onion soup mix, served with lettuce, tomato and cheese on home baked bread.

Well then my Alla was wrong that your Alla is "just like her" Perhaps in the business sense. We have no vegetable garden despite plenty of room ("We buy at the store, food is cheap") She has her flowers she cares for which means she waters them if needed and will put on her Dasiy Dukes and heels (No, I am not joking, Have to look attractive if we are going to do this) and pull weeds wearing dainty gloves, unless it is a big weed or has "sticky things", then she calls me and points at the offending weed, makes the pouty face and I remove the offender.

When she was in the Komsomol, she had to go help harvest potatoes and such. They piled the school kids in trucks and took them to the fields outside town "like cows" and then told them to pick crops. Alla said she was always FAR behind the others, usually crying about how her hands were being damaged and getting yelled at for not doing her duty to the Rodina!

[baron555 934]

Well then my Alla was wrong that your Alla is "just like her" Perhaps in the business sense.

Yes they are the same but then my Alla will show her "country" side and forgo the heels for Muck Boots and gloves and a shovel. All this gardening and "hard work" is like a giant science experiment for her. See below.

When she was in the Komsomol, she had to go help harvest potatoes and such. They piled the school kids in trucks and took them to the fields outside town "like cows" and then told them to pick crops. Alla said she was always FAR behind the others, usually crying about how her hands were being damaged and getting yelled at for not doing her duty to the Rodina!

The the same here. She remembers being bussed to a field in southern Russia, where she grew up, and picking potatoes in the hot sun. That was her only experience with gardening.

Now she grows and eats her own creations and has become quite handy with it all.

[Gary and Alla 3,696]

But Phil, I would agree that we need to give our kids some of the treatment our wives had.

Give me some of these kids for 2 years work in construction in Ukraine and they will never complain about anything ever again.

[TBoneTX 48,148]

two cart loads of horse manure

Were you visited recently by political candidates, huh man?

She had had McDonalds once prior to coming to the US. Since being here, we've been there twice, once just to try another wonderful American invention....the drive thru.... and the other just to get Leonid from frys.

We go to McDonald's far too often, chiefly to let Mini-Bone run around in the play area and to get him some French fries. Of course, we usually decide to eat there for reasons of convenience and fatigue, zzz man.

[TBoneTX 48,148]

Alla does not put gas in her car if she can possibly avoid it. I do that on Saturday mornings usually and check her tires and oil and all that. A full tank usually lasts all week. It is about the only time I drive her car...AKA self propelled closet.

It's similar here, si man. However, whenever I ask Mrs. T-B. how much gas she has, she looks blank and says "about half." Therefore, I make sure either that we all go out somewhere in her car once a week or that I drive it on an evening errand, so that I can fill the tank when it's appropriate to.

When we go out, I drive and we use my car. She gets chauferred, which is the proper way for a woman to travel.

(Sigh, man) We typically go somewhere on Saturdays. It has to be in her car because of Mini-B.'s car seat. The speed limit on various highways here is 65 mph, and of course the prevailing speed is around 80. Anyone who's driving slower than that gets tailgated, horn-blasted, and zoomed around with inches to spare. Therefore, I drive 80. Mrs. T-B. (in the back seat with Mini-B.) harps nonstop, "Why are you going 80? Go 65! Think of your wife and baby!" I reply that I am thinking of that, which is why I'm going 80. This doesn't register. We usually yell back & forth until we get where we're going. She invariably says, "Remind me NEVER to ride with you EVER again! Next time, I'll take MY car and you take YOURS, and you can drive like a loco." I say, "OK, then -- I'll get to where we're going, have fun, head back home, and pass you coming the other direction." This usually gains me a temporary victory.

Her car is not as much a self-propelled closet as it is a Victoria's Secret adjunct. If I jostle even one of the creams or lotions or potions (all of which are strewn on all seats, spilling out from the console, or precariously jammed into the doorwells -- all items half- or wide-open), I risk smelling like a suspicious fruitcake. The combined stench of this girl-stuff is partially mitigated by half-closed used diapers or whatever Mini-B. has spilled in the back seat. Fortunately, I'm in sole charge of the air conditioner, so I full-blast it directly toward the back, which disperses most of the heavily perfumed stuff away from me, sneeze man.

I set up the oil change appointments, safety inspection appointments, etc. She WILL drive the car there and read a book while the mechanics do the work. She doesn't watch.

This is probably typical of most chicas. I set these appointments but usually attend them myself, watching the mechanics like a hawk, because so many of them couldn't find their butt with both hands plus outside help. It's not quite clear that Mrs. T-B. understands this concept.

She checked the clock in her office/sun room Sunday and said "Did you change all the clocks?" Yes. "The one in my car?" Yes. "Is it 5 minutes fast?" Yes. "I love you" There, she set the clock in her car.

, man

[baron555 934]

Were you visited recently by political candidates, huh man?W

Nope.....just improving our survival skills.

[Gary and Alla 3,696]

Nope.....just improving our survival skills.

Wait. You are not EATING it are you?

[TBoneTX 48,148]

Wait. You are not EATING it are you?

Perhaps after this election, we might have to get used to it.

[Gary and Alla 3,696]

Perhaps after this election, we might have to get used to it.

[TBoneTX 48,148]

While watching the returns, a visiting buddy (VJ member, also married to an Ecuatoriana, passing through on business) and I knocked off a full gallon of chocolate ice cream in approximately 45 minutes. When asked why, we grimly explained to Mrs. T-B. that Somebody's second term would make the Castros, Correa in Ecuador, & Chavez in Venezuela look like complete amateurs, and this substituted for the liquor that we didn't have in the house. In the morning, the spoons were barnacle-glued to the hardened ice-cream remains in the bowls. I had to run the hot water in the sink until it was scalding and then submerge the bowls for a full minute in order to loosen the spoons. Somehow, chocolate ice cream seems to have more adhesive power than other flavors do, si man.

[TBoneTX 48,148]

OK, here's something else.

Laundry here is done (by me, thank you) on Sundays. I assiduously provide a pair of clean dish-towels (really bathroom hand-towels, diverted for kitchen use) that are supposed to last the week. In theory, they do last, although by the subsequent Sunday they're quite ready to be replaced with a clean pair.

The typical happening is this. One of the fresh towels almost immediately disappears, usually for almost the entire week. The other one just as immediately meets one or more of the following fates:

1. It ends up soaking-wet and is left in a lump on the kitchen counter or half-draped in the sink (grossness of latter previously confirmed).

B. It's used for some gross cleaning job that I don't want the details of.

iii. It's placed on the kitchen counter underneath a 100-ton rack of "hand-washed" dishes, which never seem to get dry or ever put away.

d. It ends up in Mini-Bone's bath area, having been used to dry parts or all of Mini-B. despite the copious availability of other towels for this purpose.

Five. It ends up on the kitchen floor amidst putrid, rancid rags-on-a-stick that have been used for mopping.

VI. More rarely, Mini-B. will cheerily drag it around the floor and sometimes assault the cat with it.

When questioned in regard to the whereabouts of the first towel that went immediately missing, Mrs. T-B. either blinks blankly and says, "What other towel?" or says "It's right there in the kitchen! Open your beautiful eyes!"

The delicate balance of gauging laundry-load size is readily upset by the seemingly obvious solution of "bring down a double set of dish-towels every week." What, then, do we recommend as a solution, huh man? I'm not ready to throw in the towel, no man.

[Gary and Alla 3,696]

OK, here's something else.

Laundry here is done (by me, thank you) on Sundays. I assiduously provide a pair of clean dish-towels (really bathroom hand-towels, diverted for kitchen use) that are supposed to last the week. In theory, they do last, although by the subsequent Sunday they're quite ready to be replaced with a clean pair.

The typical happening is this. One of the fresh towels almost immediately disappears, usually for almost the entire week. The other one just as immediately meets one or more of the following fates:

1. It ends up soaking-wet and is left in a lump on the kitchen counter or half-draped in the sink (grossness of latter previously confirmed).

B. It's used for some gross cleaning job that I don't want the details of.

iii. It's placed on the kitchen counter underneath a 100-ton rack of "hand-washed" dishes, which never seem to get dry or ever put away.

d. It ends up in Mini-Bone's bath area, having been used to dry parts or all of Mini-B. despite the copious availability of other towels for this purpose.

Five. It ends up on the kitchen floor amidst putrid, rancid rags-on-a-stick that have been used for mopping.

VI. More rarely, Mini-B. will cheerily drag it around the floor and sometimes assault the cat with it.

When questioned in regard to the whereabouts of the first towel that went immediately missing, Mrs. T-B. either blinks blankly and says, "What other towel?" or says "It's right there in the kitchen! Open your beautiful eyes!"

The delicate balance of gauging laundry-load size is readily upset by the seemingly obvious solution of "bring down a double set of dish-towels every week." What, then, do we recommend as a solution, huh man? I'm not ready to throw in the towel, no man.

One of my all time favorite movie lines was spoken by Fred Thompson in "The Hunt for Red October" he said...

"The average Russian, son, does not take a dump without a plan"

Nothing could be more true, even to the point of taking a dump! There is a plan similar to the D-Day invasion for doing laundry, I cannot follow this plan, it is far more complicated than I can comprehend. Sergey, a real, genuine rocket scientist, cannot understand it. There is boiling involved, there are all sorts of hand chores, soaking, sorting, water temperature setting changes (do not pay attention to the stupid label)various soaps, lotions, potions and Gypsy superstition...even an eye-of-newt in there somewhere! And Khlor! (bleach)Khlor kills everything.

Most important is the ritual to protect her family from the clothes she wears to the hospital, either for her clinicals or for her interpretation. It is similar to the isolation procedures you see in movies about a highly contagious disease sweeping the world and laying waste to all mankind! No one is allowed near her "hospital clothes" until they are boiled and then washed in super hot water and HUNG to dry, they are not allowed in the dryer. (???) These are commonly called "scrubs", you know the clothes. But these are from a specialty shop and are name brand "Greys Anatomy" scrubs so they look DAMN HOT! Leave it to a Ukrainian woman to find HOT looking scrubs.

Her "hospital shoes" are another matter entirely. Called "Klogs" they are not attractive but very practical. RUB women hate ugly shoes and shoes are considered very "dirty" ("you walk outside where animals poop and people spit!") This is why they do not want you to wear them in the house. So she wears heels to drive to the hospital and keeps her "Klogs" wrapped in an isolation bag and in a box in the self propelled closet. (AKA Toyota Yaris) She changes these in the parking garage of the hospital.

The bed? OMG! It is like a construction project! First a mattress topper (very comfy, I admit) then a European fitted sheet, no elastic but actually a "fabric box" that fits over the mattress. Then multiple, I mean MULTIPLE flat sheets, usually about 6 or 7. One of these are peeled off every few days. I actually try for every other day as the timing depends upon the, um, "activity" in the bed. When she gets down to the fitted sheet it is time to wash all of them.

Pasha has bailed out and just says "No thanks, Mom, I will do my own laundry"

Shall we even go into how the furniture is covered to protect it from "animals" ???

[TBoneTX 48,148]

"The average Russian, son, does not take a dump without a plan" [...]

Holy mackerel, si man! However, a solution to my quandary has presented itself.

When faced with problems seemingly beyond the abilities of mere mortals to influence, the solution is to Channel Gary. I went to bed resolving to do this.

Hark! During the night, a vision suddenly appeared unto me. It was Gary Who Sleeps Naked Next to Alla Every Night.

I said, "Oh Gary Who Sleeps Naked Next to Alla Every Night, what is the fix to my Quandary of the Two Dish-Towels?"

"It's easy, si man," he said. "Attach a GPS tracking device to the dish-towel that will get lost. However, avoid attaching the GPS device to the towel that will get soaked, because the water will render that device unusable."

"But if the towels are identical when they're newly placed in the kitchen," I said, "How will I know which will get lost and which will get soaked?"

"Not my concern, no man," said Gary, cheerfully. "I sleep naked next to Alla every night." And just as abruptly as the vision began, it ended, sigh man.

[Gary and Alla 3,696]

Holy mackerel, si man! However, a solution to my quandary has presented itself.

When faced with problems seemingly beyond the abilities of mere mortals to influence, the solution is to Channel Gary. I went to bed resolving to do this.

Hark! During the night, a vision suddenly appeared unto me. It was Gary Who Sleeps Naked Next to Alla Every Night.

I said, "Oh Gary Who Sleeps Naked Next to Alla Every Night, what is the fix to my Quandary of the Two Dish-Towels?"

"It's easy, si man," he said. "Attach a GPS tracking device to the dish-towel that will get lost. However, avoid attaching the GPS device to the towel that will get soaked, because the water will render that device unusable."

"But if the towels are identical when they're newly placed in the kitchen," I said, "How will I know which will get lost and which will get soaked?"

"Not my concern, no man," said Gary, cheerfully. "I sleep naked next to Alla every night." And just as abruptly as the vision began, it ended, sigh man.

But T-B, it seems from the photos we have seen that Mrs. T-B probably has the same medicinal effect available as Alla ( I sleep naked for medicinal purposes only) You just need to get her sleeping naked! Make your own dreams come true!

Da man!