My birthday gift to myself:

My Ukrainian instructor gave a talk today and we both cried like belugas during the talk. I wasn’t planning to because I draw the line at crying once a day. Twice is an overkill. But she showed some footage from the area my mother is from, and it got to me.

On the positive side, N’s favorite Ukrainian journalist read my interview, and N is very happy. He doesn’t want to be famous but he really wants me to be.

I promise to calm down and come up with something smart to say for my birthday tomorrow.

There was a massive strike on Chernihiv. Many dead and wounded. I have friends there. They were actually my father’s friends but I took over after he died.

With fingers in a spasm, I try to type out, “are you OK? Are you alive?”

My friends write back to say they are alive. I’m trying to make breakfast for my child but my eyes are so swollen I can barely see the pan.

I have one lecture, two meetings, a committee lunch, and an event after that. And I’ll be present, cheerful, and entertaining at all of them.

Tomorrow’s my birthday, by the way.