Nu, nu sunt bolnav.

Vine iarnă.

It's October 14, and I saw snow in the mountains today. It’s October 14, and this is the third day in a row I’ve made a fire in the fireplace. It’s October 14, and three days ago, I’m pretty sure I saw my breath in the morning. While still in bed.

It doesn’t seem like that long ago that everything north of the pavement was sweating. But alas, seasons change. It tends to happen every year. Admittedly, I did expect fall to make a little more than a brief drive-by before winter shoved it out of the way.

But we’re a hearty folk in Minnesota, and if there’s one we like to cling to as much as our insistence on calling casseroles “hot dishes,” it’s the supreme nature of our winters. With that, I welcome Old Man Winter’s Eastern European cousin.

Well, besides the drastic change in temp, not much has happened that’s fit for print. School is in full swing, and my counterpart and I are really starting to get the hang of this split-classes thing. We had ample time to plan, but none of that really means much until you’re actually in a classroom setting, becoming familiar with your students’ personalities, levels and needs.

Originally, he was going to concentrate on grammar, and I was going to use the grammar points to create games and activities to encourage and improve speaking and fluency. Now that we have a few weeks under our belts, we’ve decided that he’s going to concentrate on grammar, and I’m going to use the grammar points to create games and activities to encourage and improve speaking and fluency. But at least we’re sure now.

To revive the winter theme, the inimitable Tom Paulson sent me the winter box I’d set aside before I left. Complete with my winter coat and enough fleece to equip Siberia, my first Romanian care package also included, by request, a 32-ounce bottle of Tapatio, sandwich baggies, an American football that’s aroused many-a-curiosity and, much to the delight of my 5-year-old neighbor who helped me carry it inside, A LOT of bubble wrap.

Besides receiving the package and its wonderful contents, and learning that bubble wrap is endlessly entertaining on all continents, my favorite tale of the day came in the midst of the 10 minutes it took to retrieve the package from the post office. (The time it took is notable because, from leaving my house in the morning to returning at night, the entire pilgrimage to the county seat took almost exactly 12 hours.)

Anyway, I was greeted with a smile by the kind woman. I thought she was just being nice, but once the conversation took the next turn, I realize now that it may have been spurred by something else.

“Psychiatric Hospital? (My residence that the package was addressed to.) What do you do in Tulgheș?”

Hurriedly: “I teach at the school. I live at the hospital.”

Somewhat disbelievingly: “Oh.”

“No, I just live there. I live with the nurses.”

Now laughing: “Oh, so you’re not crazy.”

“No, I’m not crazy.”

For some reason, things went swimmingly after that.

Well, I just put another log on the fire, opened a beer and tossed on a freshly arrived fleece. Right now it’s just Mr. Albacher and I, but I heard the gang from How I Met Your Mother will be stopping over later and perhaps even some friends from Scranton and Greendale CC. Looks like it’s gonna be a good one.