Forty-four hours and
about twenty-two minutes.
But Mother has always been
of the opinion
that you have to know a man well
to marry him,
and that takes time.
Right, to marry a person
after only a two-day acquaintance
is a very thoughtless act.
It's best to wait about a week.
So you can let me know
next Wednesday.
There's a good way for us
to get to know one another.
I invite you and your mother
for a Sunday picnic in the country.
Well, goodbye, it's been a pleasure.
Don't show me out. I know the way.
- What does he do?
- Tool and die maker.
- Where did you find him?
- In the train.
I didn't know you were cruising
for men in trains.
I'm a little surprised.
Not half as surprised as I am,
though.
Why aren't you dressed yet?
We had a date. Did you forget?
- Forget what?
- Our picnic!
Mother, you gotta get up!
- What's going on?
- The picnic.
For goodness sake, it's Sunday.
Let me sleep.
You can sleep in the fresh air.
We're being late.
We can give you a hand with that.
No, no, women aren't allowed
to make shashlik.
Go and sit down.
- Relax.
- Thank you.
Here, chef, take this.
Go to sleep now.
Friends! It's a special toast that
I've the pleasure to propose today.
This is a special occasion -
the birthday
of our dear friend Gosha.
- What birthday?
- You didn't tell them?
It's no big deal.
Oh, he's a very humble kind of guy.
I don't think I have to remind you
of the outstanding virtues
of our extraordinary friend.
Yes, you do.
Is there somebody who doesn't know
how talented and clever you are?
I don't know anything.
In that case, I propose a toast
in honor of his hands.
At first glance they're
average human hands,
but all that is just an illusion.
Actually, they're golden hands.
We're in the presence, my friends,
of Master Tool and Die Maker!
In our Institute there are
scientists and Ph. D's
who could have retired
ten years ago
without anyone ever noticing
that they have gone.
But when Gosha was out last year
and hospitalized,
I beg your pardon, ladies,
for getting rather personal,
only they removed his appendix,
well, then half of the lab
stopped dead.
As for me, if I received a doctorate,
at least 70 percent of it comes
from the apparatus that Gosha
invented.
And I'm sure
that my opinion is shared
by the majority of my fellow workers
at our scientific institute.
To your hands, my dear friend!
- Happy birthday, Gosha!
- To your hands of gold!
Well, did you like my toast?
Have you got a Ph. D?
Isn't it obvious?
- What is the world up to?
- It's winter again.
- Winter, you think?
- Yes, it's winter, I reckon.
Your cozy, drowsy homes
me beckon
To come and forever in there
remain.
- Then what's to happen?
- Then January comes.
- January, you believe?
- Yes, I believe so.
I have been reading that white book
since I began to grow,
This time-old primer
with pictures of snow-covered stumps.
- What'll be the outcome?
- April will dawn.
- April, you sure?
- Yes, I am sure.
I definitely heard,
and it wasn't some allure,
the sound of a reed-pipe
on the neighborhood lawn.
What's the conclusion?
That we go on living
And make summer dresses
from gauzy cotton.
You think there'll be chance
for us to put them on?
Just make them,
that's what I believe in!
We should be prepared,
for however strong may be the blizzards
Their bondage is bound
to come to an end...
I feel bad about your birthday.
We owe you a present.
You've got a lot of time
before December comes along.
My birthday is the 23rd of December.
- And what was today?
- It was an exhibition.
I was a total stranger to you,
wasn't I?
Not any more because my friends
told you everything.
What about all these scientists
and Ph.D.'s?
All the rest was real, the friends,
the scientists, the shashlik.
I'm what they said I'm.
Although they put it on a little
thick, exaggerated.
Well, we'll find out in a couple
of years.
That's good. I was afraid that
what