Lost claddagh

     I lost my claddagh ring this past week, and it's having far more of an impact on my life than I thought it would. Despite the fact that it was bought for me by my ex-husband as a wedding ring, I kept it when we broke up, and simply moved it to the appropriate hand and position for being single. Partially, this was because what he paid for it was a small fraction of what he had borrowed from me in the brief time we were together, but mostly because...

     I am pretty serious about my financial independence. I try not to obsess about money, but staying out of debt (other than student loans) is very important to me, and I do my best to split things evenly, even though my gentleman makes literally twice what I do right now. I do not want to take advantage of other people, financially, the way other people have taken advantage of me, in the past. I don't like accepting expensive gifts, and I certainly don't like asking for things.

     But.... despite its origin, despite the annoyance of the design getting caught on everything, despite everything... that claddagh was the first expensive, high-quality piece of jewelry that someone else thought I was worth the price. I didn't have to ask for it, he wouldn't let me get a cheaper one (although it was still plain, by my preference); he insisted that I get the ring I wanted, regardless of the price. It was the most expensive thing I'd gotten something without worrying about the cost, and without worrying that someone was doing it for any other reason than that they could afford to do something that would make me happy. Even if that person turned out to be not so nice in the end, that feeling lived on in the ring.

     Maybe it's silly to think so, since I'm Scots, and not Irish anyway. Maybe it's foolish to be attached to a thing, instead of eschewing materialism. I've tried telling myself a hundred times this week that I don't wear jewelry anyway, reminding myself of all the times it got caught on things,  how annoying it could be, being loose in the winter and tight in the summer... but I still miss it. It meant a lot to me. And I don't think I can replace that.

Garden progression

     When I first got my garden plot through Columbia Gardeners, it looked abandoned. The fence was made of different sized pieces zip-tied together, some of the beds had been ripped up and dragged off, and there were rusty metal scraps of braces and more fencing everywhere. The previous gardener had a casual disregard for things like whether something was biodegradable or not, and plastic plant tags were scattered and half-buried everywhere. The ground, regardless of bed layout, was a ragged mat of nettle, crabgrass, and dead bits of annual flower corpses. The list of horrors goes on, but needless to say, it was not uplifting.

Pet peeve: names

     One of my pet peeves is when people cannot seem to get my name straight. I realize it's a bit of an odd one, at least here in America, but still, some effort would be nice. When I say my name to someone who needs to contact me in writing or look it up in a database, I spell it out automatically. Sometimes I get lazy, and just say "it starts with l-y," occasionally, if the person has struck me as particularly dense, I'll add the double esses in, and if it's anything official or formal, I'll spell it out completely, just to avoid mishaps. Believe it or not, however, some people still get it dead wrong.

     What really ticks me off, too, is when it's someone who is writing or responding to my business email, which follows the format of (first name).(last name)@(workplace).com. They had to type it in- correctly!- to send it to me, and yet they still murder the spelling in the introduction. Maybe, just maybe, I can understand it on the first letter or email. But when I reply, and sign my full name at the end of the reply, and they still get it wrong… I get a little steamed. That's just downright rude. At least have the decency to get my name right, will you?

Variations I have seen:
Cassandra (this one is the most understandable)
Lissandra (somewhat understandable)
Lassandra/ Lesandra
Lisander (I am a marble statue!)
LaShaundra (no clue how they got this one)

     Verbally, I am called Lisa or Leesandra by pretty much anyone who is not a native speaker. That bothers me less than the writing deal, though, because that's less laziness or ignoring, and more nuances of a language. Annoying, but forgivable. The writing thing though? Gets my goat, every time. 

Russian poem: Sinners

Came across this in my wanderings. Am now determined to memorize it:

Грешники
В грехах мы всё - как цветы в росе,
Святых между нами нет.
А если ты свят - ты мне не брат,
Не друг мне и не сосед.

Я был в беде - как рыба в воде,
Я понял закон простой:
Там грешник приходит на помочь, где
Отвертывается святой.
-Вадим Шефнер, 1962

Poetic translation:
Sinners
We all have our sins, like flowers have dew,
Saints among us you simply won't find.
And if you're a saint, then leave me alone,
You're no friend nor brother of mine.

I've lived with troubles, like a dog lives with fleas,
I saw this rule's truth, every day:
Sinners will reach out to help one another;
But saints turn their faces away.
-Vadim Shefner, 1962


Literal translation:
Sinners
In sins are we all - like flowers in dew,
Saints among us, there aren't.
And if you're a saint, you're no brother of mine,
Nor friend, nor neighbor.

I've been in hardship - like a fish in water,
I've come to understand this simple law:
Sinners will go to help where
Saints turn away from.

Cheating

     Sorry for the radio silence; I haven't been inspired to write anything lately, since I've been occupied getting used to a 9-5 job for the first time since 2009. So instead of writing something new, I'm just going to give you a link to a translation I wrote recently:

Russian Fairy tales- Бобовое зернышко.

     I've been spending lunch break translating fairy tales, and have decided to share them with you. Enjoy!