Congratulatory emails and cards have begun to appear, each day exceeding that of the previous day. Today the postmistress emptied our post office box mail into a small shopping bag to make it easier to carry it to the Jeep, although about a third of it could have easily been thrown out without even opening it. I was pleased to get a card from my cousin Olga in Saskatoon and a packet from my niece Cheryl who sent photos taken during a tour of Morocco earlier in the year with her brother Craig. I especially like the ones with the camels carrying members of the group across sandy dunes. Also, the architecture and tiles were unbelievably intricate and beautiful. I think that the best of Morocco is to be found in their mint tea, sweet and potent, but I cannot say anything positive about the heat outdoors when it feels like the inside of a furnace. Just as the evening care giver came to help me, Andy said that there was a Father Michael who had just arrived. It turned out to be Father Deacon Mikhail Ivanov, his matushka and their children, bringing sushi as a treat. Unfortunately they could not stay long, for the care giver was here to give me assistance, but we had a short and pleasant visit. Before going to sleep tonight, I shall have a glass [yes, a Russian glass with its holder rather than a cup] of black Yorkshire tea with some freshly squeezed lemon juice and Volgograd honey that will certainly put me to sleep easily.