Trekhprudny Lane

Happy Birthday, Lula. Yesterday Lena made a beautiful birthday cake from scratch, then squeezed the juice from beets, carrots, and spinach to dye whipped butter for colored icing. She even put in a little cognac (to grow on). 

We watched some short home movies on the computer, from the first weeks of Lula's life. What a wonderful, awful time that was. I remember a feeling of crisis, daily, for weeks and weeks. Now I look at the fragile little newborn in the photos, with her dark eyes and skinny legs and odd movements, and it's like I was not really there at the time, like I was out of town or something.

The weather remains benign but everyone is sick here; the girls have red faces and clogged sinuses. Even A. stayed home from work (thus today he's twiddling thumbs in bed rather than at his desk). We are anxious, latently, not sure why -- anticipating bad news for some reason.