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.       

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