dvi silkes

The two critical documents that make it possible for us to stay in Lithuania are Permission to Work, and Permission to Live in Lithuania. As part of Nathan’s new full-time job at a shipping/ferry company, he has the fantastic advantage of having the company’s lawyer help with the massive amounts of paperwork that go along with applying for these documents. So far, Nathan has received his Permission to Work - which involved a complicated cycle of applying, waiting, office visits, letter writing, and more waiting. All of this would have been mind-numbingly impossible without the help of a knowledgeable and experienced Lithuanian to negotiate the details.

And though today was Nathan’s first day at his new job, we are both still waiting for the very essential Permission to Live in Lithuania. As far as we know, the company lawyer has submitted our applications to the migration office, and is waiting for a reply…although this has been the case now for over two months. I’m actually not even sure what kind of permission I should be expecting; an earlier application for a spousal permit was denied, and applying as a student didn’t work since the Lithuanian language program is only part-time. We are trusting that our clever lawyer has come up with a solution, so now we wait.

Remarkably, we aren’t particularly worried. I’m sure that part of that is because we haven’t had the horrible stress of sitting in the dim hallway of the migration office, nervously waiting to assert our place in line, and also because we have a very capable (not to mention very intimidating) lawyer on our side. Even more, I know that we are OK with whatever the outcome is. I’m not naturally a “go-with-the-flow” kind of person, so I know that this kind of calmness in the midst of uncertainty is not something I mustered on my own. So even if we don’t have tomorrow’s answers today, we know that God does, and I’m sure he’ll let us know when the time is right.

Unless you count washing dishes, I have no particular talent in the kitchen. I can’t “eyeball” measurements like my Mother can, I have no idea what “season to taste” is supposed to mean, and “golden brown” easily becomes “burnt black” when I am in charge. Recently, however, a recipe for something new fell into my lap, and I couldn’t resist having a whirl. The ingredients went something like this:

• one box of goodies sent to us from Nathan’s parents
• a touch of Christmas nostalgia
• one persistent craving for a Slurpee
• one nacho-fanatic husband
• a pinch of homework-free days
• a ray of sunshine making the kitchen the most desirable place to be

Several round of pots and pans and a few days later, four scrumptious new dishes had been stirred, grated, rolled, boiled, grilled, frozen…and licked clean. Here are the results:

Cranberry-Orange Bread, inspired by a bag of soft, dried cranberries sent by Nathan’s parents. The freshly grated orange rind in this loaf makes it smell wonderful, and even though it is usually baked as a Christmas tradition, our boiled version tasted almost as good in May.

Iced-coffee-slush, reminiscent of the kind I used to slurp while driving around on a hot summer day in Canada. This was the closest I could come to slurpee-making, but I am not at all disappointed. Topped with a drizzle of maple syrup, this is so good!

Vegetarian Sloppy-Joe’s, thanks to a seasoning packet that came in our goodie box. We decided to try buckwheat as a ground beef substitute, and were surprised…it worked!

Nachos made from scratch. The jar of Cheez Whiz that Nathan’s parents sent was the perfect thing to go with nachos, but we couldn’t find any unflavoured ones at our local stores. Finally, I decided to attempt making tortillas using a recipe from my culinarily astute cousin-in-law. The process of mixing, kneading, resting, cooking, cutting, oiling, and grilling the tortillas into nachos was a lot of work, but the fun of dipping them into gooey, melted Cheez Whiz made it all worth it. And they must have been pretty good, because they are all gone…even the burnt ones.

When we purchased our apartment, we had a new, super-duper-secure front door installed. This replaced the two old doors that had been used by a variety of renting tenants, and gave us the security of having a brand new set of keys. It also gave us a big ugly mess of crumbling bricks (mortared with something resembling hay and horse hair) in the doorway. The company that installed the new door had offered to repair the frame for us, but when they told us that it would cost an additional 1000 Litas, we decided that crumbly brick had a certain…charm.

We have often talked about how to repair the door ourselves: whether we would use drywall, or try to mix up concrete. The sight of broken bricks and chipped mortar has often been the subject of my daydreams, and has kept my brain spinning well into the night too many times. So, after much researching and measuring, and with more than a little trepidation, we finally dove into the unfamiliar territory of brickwork, cement, and drywall. It took four days, too many trips to the hardware store, a few leftover chunks of wood, an entire tube of wonder-glue, two sheets of drywall, and half of an apple crate, but we finally have a doorframe. It is still unpainted, and the bottom of the entry will be a piece of drywall until we can figure out what to do with it, but even if this white, square box is lacking in charm, it is fabulous.

Thankfully, the (almost) finished product doesn’t reveal the quirky details that went into its construction: like the finishing nails that are holding the metal drywall edging on, or the splinters of apple crate used as shims against the lumpy concrete wall, the splatters of quick-dry cement that always seemed to dry to quickly, or the three glue-laminated layers of drywall that dropped the header low enough to meet the doorframe. Eventually, the last of the plaster dust will be evicted from the crevices of our house, the smell of glue will vanish from the air, and my battered hands and aching arms will recover enough to let me forget the unpleasantness of sanding. Until then, I will chase after plaster dust, soothe my shoulders with hot packs, and wait to see where the next daydream leads.