The power goes out here relatively often. I knew this before coming to Georgia; so before I arrived, I bought a small, battery-operated digital alarm clock so that I would not have to depend on electricity to wake me in the morning. The clock is small enough to hold in my hand. When it went off this morning, I hit the snooze. Five minutes later, it sounded again. This time I picked it up and pulled it under the covers so that I could hit the snooze a couple more times without having to move. It's winter, and there is no heat in my room -- if I don't have to let cold air into my cozy cocoon, I won't! So, two more times the snooze let me doze a little longer before getting up.
I didn't want to get up. I was still so tired from the mega-suphra last night. I felt like neither my body nor my mind had rested - there was still residual noise coursing through me from the ridiculous decibel-level. Regardless of what I wanted, I got up.
Today was Lika's (one of my co-teachers) birthday. I found out only yesterday that it was her birthday, so I had nothing to give her - nor even time to make her a card (with getting home so late last night). So when I got to school, I found her in the teacher's room and sang to her "American-style." She and all the other teachers loved it.
When we were finished with our last class for today at 1:25, I said goodbye and again wished her a happy birthday. She smiled, said, "Thank you," and then said that she would wait for me at four o'clock. I paused, searching my shaky memory for some shred of recall of what had been planned that I had forgotten..... nope. Nothing. So I asked her what I was supposed to do at four?
"I'll wait for you to come to my house for my birthday suphra. Won't you come?"
I know that every inch of my face read "Seriously?" and big, fat "NO!" simultaneously. There was no way I wanted to go to another party - I hadn't yet recovered from last night's! However, this invitation was one that could not be refused. There was no way I could miss her birthday suphra. Georgian culture mandates that I must go. So I took a deep breath, smiled, and said, "Of course I'll come. I'll see you at four."
Thankfully, the suphra was a nice, quiet time with Lika's lovely family and some of my sweet colleagues. There was no loud, pounding music. No one was yelling toasts into a microphone from atop a table. There were no platters of pig or cow heads being paraded around the room. No flaming skewered beef teepees. (Thank God!) Just some friends and family enjoying each other's company. Don't get me wrong: we gave lots of toasts and drank bad, homemade wine. But it was a relief to be in a small house full of care and love after the craziness of last night.
And tonight, I'm going to bed early!