I'm a Moldovanka Short and Stout!

...Here is my brinza

Here is my grout

When I get all steamed up

I will shout:

Put that rachiu down--

you're a lout!

Yes, dear reader, I have this day made it into the ranks of the domestic Moldovanka.

(it should be noted the following events were only possible because Maria was significantly distracted with a woman from Glodeni who came to discuss the financial health of various magazins, and the great shift of accounting from longhand to computer)

Today I:

- Cleaned the kitchen after lunch for Maria as talked accounting shop with her accountant friend

- Wore rubber ankle boots to wade through farm yard slush and mud

- Made a small bridge from the viceu to the wood pile with the scraps from the gospodar's rather neglected project-wood pile (that is, I imagine 10 years ago Laurentiu had a project in mind, but forgot...ever since the turkeys and chickens have been roosting in this pile of rotting, but professionally-cut wood, now covered in various types of domestic bird shit)

- Stocked the house with the day's supply of wood

- Lit the fires

- Kept those fires going

And when Maria was finished she and Laurentiu exclaimed over my many merits as a gospodina (house wife).