Trekhprudny Lane

Yesterday evening we stood around in the kitchen of the new apartment with our four new landlords (joint owners: brothers, mother, and a neighbor) eating Swedish cakes, while a scrawny workman injected insulating foam into the seams of the windows, and a boy who looked a lot like Wayne Rooney played basketball alone in the courtyard below. Saw the ponds, too, the neighborhood landmark... on a Friday evening there was a mix of lounging young goths, children, businesspeople en route from office to cafe, and lovers. And of course the swans. Near the playground, some really wonderful, almost frightening  bronze sculptures of animal fables.    

A arranged a ride to and from IKEA yesterday too, and so I was able to buy some essentials for the new place. It was a long errand. The store is of course located far from the center. After waiting at the check-out counter for 45 minutes to answer a host of security questions on the telephone with the credit card company (whose fraud alarms naturally blared when our long-dormant account suddenly became active in Russia), then arranging for delivery, and then waiting for my driver to have his van jump-started in the parking lot, I got back home and drank nearly a pot of coffee in fifteen minutes.

Then out to dinner last night with A, at a lovely patio restaurant with old trees, herring and hamburgers (and boisterous English: so that's where all the Americans have been). Walking back to the metro, I found a crow scuttling around under parked cars with a broken wing. Thankfully, no one deigned to notice my wiggling tote bag on the trains, not even the monitors in their glass booths, and this morning he's (?) doing well, eating boiled chicken and drinking water, in a box in the girls' bedroom. That wing is crumpled very stiff, though. I've been doing fruitless Google searches on crow care and wildlife rescue in Moscow. There is reportedly a large bird market on weekends in the city, where some old birders might be able to offer advice, but I hesitate to go there, for fear I'll buy a crate of homing pigeons or attempt to save some poultry intended for a soup pot. A is already furious about the crow.