Game 3 - You may have already won...

Life takes some funny twists and turns… A couple of weeks ago, just before Christmas, to be exact, I received a rather believable-looking, business-sized white envelope in the mail. As I mentioned before, my mailman tends to be rather disrespectful and rough with any correspondence that is outsized. So this letter, like so many others, bore signs of damage. It was addressed to me, but as for the sender, there was no address, just a word “Peerless” at the top. Additionally, the front of the envelope was stamped with “You May Have Already WON!” in bright red letters.

Everyone gets these annoying letters once in a while. They inform you that your name was randomly selected from a big all-knowing database at the Publisher’s Clearing House and therefore, you are about to get a million dollars, a house, a brand-spanking-new SUV, a 42” plasma TV, or some such cool prize. I don’t buy this anymore, not after ending up with 2-year subscriptions to Blender, Good Housekeeping, and Conde Nast Traveler. Oh, and I didn’t win that million after all. So in short, I throw these kinds of envelopes away unopened. Or I open them, find out about a prize, day-dream about it for the rest of the day, and throw the envelope out anyway. Why should this time be any different? And so I dropped it in the green recycling bin before opening the front door and forgot all about it. Again, that was right before Christmas.

Right before New Year, I was checking my e-mail and saw something from Peerless.com. Everyone gets these annoying e-mails once in a while. They flash pictures of 42” plasma TVs, brand-spanking-new SUVs, new houses, or what a million dollars in $20-dollar bills would look like. I don’t even open these e-mails anymore, not after spending hours unsubscribing from various newsletters and getting rid of viruses and Trojan horses. So I deleted this e-mail as well, marking it as junk. Again, that was right before New Year.

Yesterday, I was working when I heard a knock on a door. I ran downstairs and signed for a piece of registered mail with no return address, just a word “Peerless” at the top. That was most unusual indeed. I tore the envelope open and found a small letter advising me to call a toll-free number as soon as possible to claim my prize. I won!!! For the first time in my life, I actually won something!!! It took me maybe 15 seconds to grab the phone, but my whole future life flashed before my eyes, complete with a round-the-world trip and a shopping spree at Barnes and Noble. I dialed the toll-free number, and then entered the 8-digit winner’s confirmation code. “Good Afternoon and welcome to Peerless. My name is Sue.” I heard. I’ll name my first baby Sue, even if it’s a boy, I caught myself thinking…

To make the long story short, my first issues of Shape, Popular Mechanics, and Cooking Light will arrive in four to six weeks. As for my prize, I am still in the running.

Game 2 - Far, far away

Rules - Think of a person who really bugs or annoys you. Think of a place you'd like to send this person. Then - mentally - send them there! Start with: "The post card arrived..."

A post card arrived in my mailbox today. It was oversized and as it happened with all oversized mail that arrived at our place, it got bent and twisted mercilessly and mindlessly by a frustrated mailman. A crooked bend broke its glossy surface and revealed its soft white underbelly. The corners looked worn and the edges were unmistakably burnt. At the same time heavy water damage and something that looked like an oil stain managed to turn the picture into a kind of a Rorschach’s test on a flaming red background. The card definitely traveled a long way.

Too eager to look through my other mail, which included a new issue of the National Geographic, I hurriedly shuffled the card to the bottom of the mail pile and started walking home. The house was blissfully quiet and Xander kept out of sight. “He’s in a garage, hiding in shame”, I thought fleetingly about my crazy cat. Earlier today we had a big argument over his constant mewing and a broken vase and I advised him to go straight to hell.

I set all the mail on a tiny bistro table that served us as a dining table and a convenient surface for dumping daily papers, mail, keys, stray pens, and empty cups. Something red and glossy fell on the floor. It was the post card. Mechanically I leaned over to pick it up and became frozen in place as I read the following message in red ink on the back of it.

“Dear Yelena,

Don’t worry about me. I am in a Hell of a place and having tons of fun. Everyone here understands me perfectly well and provides me with hours of entertainment (something you couldn’t find time for). I got here on a special HELLicopter that arrived to pick me up just as you wished me to come here. So thank you for HELLping me. There are plenty of cats and kittens HELLd here and we all run around and play. There are also many interesting places to go explore and smell and chase and nobody minds if I make a mess or break things. People here all have to be very nice to us cats and pet us and play with us on demand for as long as we want to. We also get to scratch and bite them and mew in their ears. Also, every time we break something, and there’s always stuff to break into catzillion little pieces, they get to run HELLter-skelter and pick up the pieces and glue them back together. People get really funny about all this. They also have to learn cat language, the CATalogue, so they can better understand our CATcalls. So all the newcomers are made to watch our favorite Hell channel, the CATV, until they learn. Also some people here have to clean our giant litter box. This is called “the ultimate punishment” and is reserved for some really bad people. In short, they are CATerers for us cats.

I am one of the smartest cats here too. I taught others tons of entertaining things, like sticking their noses into every mug, stealing the glue-sticks, ambushing and tripping people and doing other CATastrophic things. Everyone knows and loves me. When people see me, they run! It’s CATegorically because they want to be the first to pet me and hear me mew.

I must say, it gets a bit hot here sometimes and then I think of a nice cool tile on your living room floor. So maybe I’ll be coming back home soon. Until then, I’m sending you my loudest and proudest MEWWWW!

Xander, the HELLbender

Game 1 - A Little Gerbil

A set-up is to write a short (up to 1 page) story that has words Alabama, insensitive, and massage in it and that starts with "Sometimes I feel like a gerbil running around and around in his wheel."

And so it goes:

Sometimes I feel like a gerbil running round and round on his wheel! Now if I were a gerbil, I imagine I would be a particularly small and whiny one with tiny little whiskers and an uncommonly bushy tail. I would also try to run both forward and backward at the same time just to keep a little boy or a little girl who owns me happy. And I would also try to calculate my angular acceleration while contemplating the existential absurdness of the wheel itself, just because. I would end up getting my little uncommonly bushy tail caught between the spokes and I would bump into a rim of the wheel with my pink and slightly crooked nose. I would be a clumsy little bugger for sure.

As such, my wheel world is limited to work and to my house. But since I work from my house, my world is even tinier and it’s getting increasingly tougher not to bump my pink and slightly crooked nose on the edge of it. Maybe that’s why I spend so much time dreaming up the amazing trips I would take if I only could. Some of them don’t even have to be particularly exotic. They can be say trips to Alabama, especially after I watched “Forrest Gump” last Christmas. Plus now that I have my laptop I can work from the road.

Work-work-work… That’s what makes this world go round in a manner of gerbil’s wheel. It’s not even the money any more. Or how would you explain some of us staying with lower-paying jobs instead of exploring other opportunities? It’s more about routine, even in non-routine jobs. The whole idea of knowing that you are going to be doing something supposedly productive for eight solid hours a day warms one’s heart. How depressing are some of the weekends and holidays, when we get thrown out of our regular schedules! Work-work-work… Whatever it takes to become insensitive to the little tiny voice inside that urges you to get a round-the-world ticket on Travelocity departing tonight or to jump in a car and drive straight to the Grand Canyon or to even bike to the beach and spend a day staring at all the vacationers who got two-week reprieves from their own little wheels. Stay quiet little voice, stay quiet, or a big hungry cat will come and eat you!

I am a small whiny gerbil with tiny little whiskers and an uncommonly bushy tail. I am thoroughly committed to the values and the will of my wheel. Oh, my feet are so tired from running countless circles. My shoulders are aching. Oh, I would give half of my wheel for a good massage. And I would rock myself to sleep in the other half of my wheel, now looking like a cradle. My head is spinning… That must be an even tinier gerbil running its butt off calculating its own angular acceleration while contemplating the existential absurdness of it all. Run little gerbil, run!

Writing Exercise - Explanation

Well, Chris got me this gift card to Barnes and Noble so I could buy any book(s). Of course, my wish list is about 3 pages long, but it's on Amazon. So I go on Amazon to retrieve the book info from my wish list and then try to find it on Barnes and Noble website. The problem is Amazon is much cheaper plus I can buy a lot of books real cheap if I buy them used. I just can't seem to bring myself to spending $20 on a book that I can have for about one-third the price, even if I pay for it with someone else's money (a gift card). So I've been willy-nilly about using my card for a while now. But yesterday we went to B&N store and I found this book, "Write Brain", full of writing exercises. There are 366 of them to be exact. Now, I'm not saying that I'll definitely be writing every single day now; weekends are definitely a time off! But I will try to do as many exercises as possible. And I'll post some of them, or maybe even all of them, on my blog.

A Saga about the New Year's Party and Other Events

And so as usual, Friday the 30th of December, was shaping up to be a slow day. Boss promised to let us go early. We were all in high spirits and I was making tons of cooking, cleaning, last-minute shopping, etc plans. And so as usual, I ended up working until just past 6pm! Worse yet, I was so tired and pissed off that I couldn't even think about the unfinished house chores. And so most of it was left until the next day.

I started my last Saturday of the year unusually early, stirred by the thought that the house was still not ready for the New Year and the food was not cooked. Now, it's not like we were hosting a party at our place, so what would it matter if the floors were clean or not. Well, it is more of a ritual than a necessity, I suppose, for me to clean every nook and cranny of the house right before the New Year. And so, with a lot of help from Chris, the house was sparkling like a New Year tree (which we didn't have this year because of Xander's tendency to tag on, bite, and destroy anything that's left out there for tagging on, biting, and destroying). What's a New Year tree? Well, it's a Christmas tree for people raised in the Soviet Union where Christmas and other religious holidays and their symbols were replaced with more secular ones.

I performed wanders of multi-tasking and not only finished all the cleaning (including washing the windows, scrubbing bathrooms, organizing closets, etc) and laundry, but also cooked some holiday dishes. When the question was decided as to where to celebrate the New Year, we pretty much had little choice. Our place was out of the question since we have only enough furniture for 2 people and only enough table ware for 4 people. Tanya's house would do nicely, with its comfy furniture, huge fireplace, a piano (for drunken sing-alongs) and a pool table (for those who don't participate in drunken sing-alongs). Unfortunately, Tanya was out of town. And so Albina's place became the most natural choice. Her condo, even though small, is on the 15th floor or a beachside condo tower with unobstructed views of both the ocean and the river. Most of the Port Orange and Ponce Inlet can be seen and on good clear days you can easily see the lighthouse and even New Smyrna. In short, it's awesome! And even though there's no room to fit a piano, she's got a karaoke machine and several DVDs with Russian karaoke. That's even better, since none of us can play piano to save our lives.

Well, anyway, since it was shaping up to be a traditional Russian New Year (poor Chris ended up being the only American at the party), the menu was appropriately traditional. Albina was going to make a couple of salads, including a huge bowl of the Olivier salad, meat and potatoes, and bought a Russian cake. And so I decided to make beet salad, called Vinaigrette Salad, and Herring under Fur Coat. Yes, that's the name of the salad. Many Americans, including my husband, find salted herring quite disgusting. But it's really dressed up (in "fur coat") and disguised very well in this salad. Chris didn't notice the herring until I told him that it was there. Basically, making this salad involves covering chopped herring filets with layers of boiled and grated vegetables (potatoes, carrots, and beets) and mayo. Follow the link for the recipe and a great picture. My only suggestion is go light on mayo - I only put two layers of it, one on top of carrots and the other one - on top of beets - and it was perfect. This salad looks really great and impressive, but takes time. Fortunately, here in America one can buy herring filets that are already de-boned and ready to be cut.

I decided to prepare Chris's favorite Pistachio Salad not only as an outlet for him, but also to bring something new and American to the otherwise purely Russian table. This salad is fun and super-easy to make. It doesn't require any chopping or any other preparations. Everything comes straight out of a box or a can. In short, it's so perfectly American, that I'm going to officially call it the American Dream salad (easy, sweet, smooth, and its light green color reminds one of American dollars). I got the recipe from Gradma Phyllis.

The original plan for the New Year celebration included stopping by a club or two on the way to Albina's. Unfortunately, I realized, belatedly as usual, that I had nothing to wear to a club (most can relate to this, right?). Even more unfortunately, I live in Daytona Beach, where we have one tiny shopping mall. But most unfortunate was the fact that our shopping mall NEVER has clothes are are both stylish, affordable and that fit me. I did go and honestly tried to find a nice dress or a top. Alas, after 3 hours of running from store to store, I gave up and headed home to finish my preparations. So the club thing got cancelled.

Instead we arrived at Albina's place a bit earlier. Soon other guests arrived, 10 in all. Two that I must make a note of were Yelena and her daughter, Yelena. They proved to be the most fun, in sharp contrast with Alla and her "недоросль" son. We started off with a round of drinks and a buffet arrangement of all the foods. Both Yelenas, Albina and I were all in favor of karaoke. Eleonora and my husband chose wisely to be on our side. But Alla objected on the grounds of this kind of entertainment being rude, crude, and unprofessional (I think she's missing the whole point of karaoke). Since we all live in a democratic country, the issue was put to a vote and the majory ruled to start karaoke. For about an hour it was just me and one of Yelenas, since Albina was too busy running between the kitchen and the living room. We sang on, Alla's comments about our unprofessionalism and insufficient voice talent nonwithstanding. Eleonora joined us albeit without a mic (she's shy like that). And as more drinks were consumed, Chris began to read aloud some of the karaoke lines.

Of course, at some point we stopped to eat and generally catch our collective breath. And we did it just in time because it was 10 minutes to midnight. So we filled our flutes with champaign, switched TV to some news channel to watch the ball drop on Times Square in NY, and helped Reggis Philbin count down from 10 to "Happy New Year!". Afterwards we all ran out on the balconies (there were two) for a semi-panoramic view of fireworks over Port Orange, Ponce Inlet, and South Daytona. I secretly made a wish to win a lottery and buy a penthouse somewhere on the coast with a panoramic views just to watch sunrises, sunsets, and fireworks.

After the fireworks we started watching some Russian videos. It was fun, but not nearly as much fun as karaoke. I was tired and Chris was trying very hard not to fall asleep. And so we wished everyone happy New Year one more time and went home.

First day of the New Year was so perfect that it made me re-think my idea of moving away from Florida. Big blue sky and weather hot enough for sun-bathing is nothing to sneeze at! Having a job is great, having a beach to escape to is even better! We bought some Starbucks and walked on the beach, just talking and watching vacationers. Then we went to see "Chronicles of Narnia and it was just great - a perfect winter-time fairy tale that's not just beautifully filmed, but romantic and suprisingly mature in its themes.

The second day of the New Year was even more perfect. It was a bit less hot, but sunny and calm. We had no specific plans and so decided to explore Cassadaga. It's a very small town, rather a village, about 20-minute drive west from Daytona Beach. It is most famous for being a year-round camp for all sorts of psychics, fortune tellers, Taro readers, aura readers, and spiritualist. So if you need to get your palm read, drive to Cassadaga any day, walk into a small bookstore right across the street from the Cassadaga Hotel and use their courtesy phone to call psychics on-duty (their names and numbers are displayed on a dry-erase board in the store) to make an appointment. The day we visited there were only two psychics on call, but several places had the "Open" signs. It's always best to call ahead not only to discuss the rates, but to make sure that you wouldn't be interrupting someone else's reading.


We didn't get our fortunes read, but instead walked around the town for a little bit. The place is actually very tiny and can be seen in less than 2 hours of very leisurely walking. The houses are mostly old and traditional, not at all unkempt, except for a few, but wearing a mysterious patina of age. The gardens are all overgrown and promisingly charming with tiny fountains, sparkling globes, garden decorations, and "Psychic X-sing" signs here and there. The quietness of the sidestreets is interrupted with soft purrings of cats sunning themselves on porches and with sounds of wind chimes. There are several parks in this tiny town, the best one being Colby Park just a short walk from both the hotel and the bookstore. It's just a very serene and relaxing place, that's it. And DeLand, with all its bars and restaurants and nice little shops and historic buildings is only a short drive away. So sure, we went to DeLand afterwards, but most of the nice little places were closed for the New Year's. But it was a nice day nevertheless and a nice ending to our long holiday.

Sunrise on Amelia Island (Christmas Day)

1. The sun is not out of the water yet...


2. It's all beautiful and pastel now...


3. And the dramatic ending...

Amelia Island

For Christmas weekend we decided to go to Amelia Island. It is about 25-minute drive east from Jacksonville and only 2 hours away from Daytona Beach. It is quite an upscale place. As a matter of fact, we didn't even realize how upscale it was until we got there.

Unfortunately, I didn't get off work until almost 6pm that Friday. So we only made it to the Amelia Island Resort by 9pm. We were hungry and thirsty, but not hungry enough for room service ($5 for a bottle of water, anybody?). Fortunatelly, a girl at the check-in desk had a spare copy of the Chinese take-out menu. After studying it for a couple of minutes we decided that we could get some good dinner for the price of two water bottles at the Resort. Cheap eats always make me a bit nervious, especially when it comes to ethnic food (although I guess the US version of Chinese is heavily modified and reflects little of the original substance). But this time I didn't have to worry. The food (crab rangoon and hot and spicy shredded chicken) was excellent, one of the best I've eaten in my life (and I've eaten plenty of Chinese food in the US). Sorry, I don't remember the name of this place, but it's probably the only Chinese place on Amelia Island.

So we ate Chinese food and watched the "Forrest Gump". I'd never seen the whole movie before, just bits and pieces. Well, it was great - just the right mix of funny, sad, smart and dumb, lucky and purely incredulous.

The next day we set off to explore the resort. It can be done several different ways. You can set off on foot, rent a bike, a golf cart, or even call for a complementary shuttle bus. We chose good old walking for the simple reason that I was too cheap to spend $40 for bike rental. Soon it proved to be the best choice - the resort is small enough and there are places and things that one simply can't get to on a bike.

The day was sunny and warm and the tide was low. So we started off by walking on the beach. There are miles of unspoiled beach on Amelia Island. And the scene is as picturesque as one can hope for - few people, no cars, no little ice-cream trucks with their annoying jingles, no water enthusiasts on jet-skis, just a few happy and well-behaved dogs and a scattering of sea shells as far as the eye can see. Better yet, the newly built ugly condominiums are kept reasonably small here (2-4 stories) and so they get partially hidden behind the sand dunes.

The whole walking and shelling part got us really hungry, but we were still not ready to settle for the hotel's breakfast ($16/person and not even a buffet). Instead, we remembered seeing a little shopping village right by the reception center the night before and headed there. Immediately we spotted a nice-looking deli with a impossible to pronounce French name. The prices were much more reasonable and the food was good. This deli also sold a good selection of wines, spices, chocolates, cheeses, and gourmet foods. Afterwards we stopped by some of the shops where most of the clothes and home decore items were frumpy, pseudo-colonial, and kitchy. But it was not the cheap in-your-face bright-pink plastic flamingo kitch of Daytona's gift shops. Instead, it was carefully matched to the overall atmosphere of the resort and the status level of the patrons. Natural materials, be it wood or cotton, prevailed, flamingos gave way to golf and West Indies themed products, and the inconspiquous price tags were not slapped on the merchandize, but swung demurely on schticks of raffia.

So we walked past the stores and into the nature center where we got to see a couple of snakes and lizards native to Amelia Island. Then we stopped by the Spa. I picked up the list of services and learned that they too were overpriced. Besides, most were various procedures for stress-reduction and relaxation while my primary interest was in toning, cellulite reduction, and getting rid of stretch marks. But just in case I asked the Spa associate if they had any kind of treatment that would immediately transform me into the most gorgeous and sexy woman in the world. The girl said they didn't have any such stuff. Unwilling to spend money on anything that delivered less than a total miracle make-over, we left.

We spent the evening in the room watching some strange show on Bravo! (and which of their shows is NOT strange?) about some wanna-be fashion designers half of whom were arrogant pieces of work and the other half couldn't control their artistic emotions try as they might. We did bring our own wine, cheese, fruits, and chocolates from Daytona and had a nice picnic in the room that night.


The next day we woke up extra-early to watch the sunrise. I'm not going to say a word about the experience. Just look at the pictures. Better yet, get out of your house, drive or fly to the beach, and see it for yourself. The rest of the day was unremarkable, except that I saw this little owl and then found a racoon sleeping in a tree. We also went to Christmas brunch buffet. It was very much like a Sunday brunch at a Picadilly restaurant (and I really don't like Picadilly). Unable to stand this overpriced boring existence for another night, we left early and returned back to Daytona only to find Xander getting even fatter (he eats a lot when we're not home).

Choosing a Place to Live

Ok, so I bet y'all are dying to learn the outcome of my review at work. Drum roll please... Зайцы, дробь.... I GOT A RAISE! Yes, yours truly is a great employee who does an exceptional job worthy of a 5% raise.

Next item on the news is our possible move to Raleigh, NC. So the rumors travel fast. That's ok, I'm more than happy to answer all the questions. First of all, why North Carolina? Ok, let's think logically here (get your road atlases out now). From South to North:

Florida - been there, done that. The only good place is Miami, but expensive and hurricane prone.

Georgia - hmmm, have you ever been to this state? Its coastal areas stink, quite literally. Atlanta stinks figuratively with all the traffic and urban sprawl. The only semi-decent place is Savannah. Although, as charming as the historic district is, the rest is more sprawl, slums, and unpleasant smell.

South Carolina - Charleston is nice, but has the same disadvantages as Savannah. The rest of the state is off limits - my boss lives in Greenville and I really wouldn't want to move there or to Columbia. I prefer to work with minimal supervision.

Now from North to South:

Maine - too cold and desolate.

Rhode Island - expensive (but very nice).

Massachusets - getting even more expensive. Plus I feel that Boston is too big of a city for me. I'd love to visit, but can't stay (no offense to my friends from Boston). Plus they have too many traffic lights and too few public restrooms.

New York/New Jersey/Connecticut - ok now, we'll have to sell our body parts to organ harvesters to afford living there. So maybe we'll afford renting a place, since the salaries tend to be higher in the Tri-State area. But owning even an outhouse is out of the question unless we settle for 3-4 hours of commuting to work (one way).

Virginia and Maryland - these are nice (in parts) and even though they are more expensive than down south, we'd consider them if we had a solid job offer.

I probably skipped a state or two (Delaware comes to mind) and completely ignored Washington, DC. But you get the picture. So what's left of the Eastern seaboard is really the great state of North Carolina that seems to have it all.

Now, going from East to West:

Any Midwest states are out the running for the ideal place to live. No offence here. I've been to some of these states, notably Kansas, Nebraska, Iowa, Indiana, Ohio, and one or two others. And on average I was extremely bored. The plains depress me and so does the absence of significant bodies of water within easy driving distance. Or the absence of large cities and cultural attractions in general. Plus the coastal states tend to be more cosmopolitan and trendy, even though it does get annoying from time to time. At least it's never boring.

The West Coast would be great. I would love to try Seattle area, rain nonwithstanding. I was there in May and it only rained once in 3 days. Plus Seattle's multi-cultural atmosphere and its surroundings (mountains all around, forests, water everywhere) totally make up for lack of sunshine. I've heard Portland, OR is also a good place. But unfortunately the West Coast is out of a question as well. One reason is financial. The other, more important, is that it's too far from both our families (and they don't show any desire to move).

So back to North Carolina. There are two cities we marked as possible targets for our move - Charlotte and Raleigh. Now, Raleigh is the state capital, which means tons of government jobs. And everyone knows that government jobs are the best. You get great benefits, all federal holidays, long vacations, easy work... Plus it's harder to get fired, easier to move up the ladder, and you don't have to be very smart at all! If you think I'm wrong on this, just visit any of the government offices in your town (starting with the DMV, Social Services, etc). But Raleigh also has the Research Triangle Park - only the largest technology park in the world, with companies such as GlaxoSmithKline, IBM and the likes. And it is a pretty place too, very nicely planned and landscapted, with sidewalks and bike paths and all. Most impressive!

The Raleigh-Durham area has several universities, including North Carolina State U. and the Duke University. Duke is the 4th most prestigious university in the US and one of the best medical research facilities in the country. I always see it mentioned in my fitness magazines (for example, a study that concluded that if you eat right and exercize regularly, you are more likely to loose weight than if you don't - that was very motivating). If we move, I will be able to start a Master's Program at a state university as soon as I become a state resident (after 1 year). Unfortunately, due to the lack of organic funds (read - I'm not making enough money), I won't be able to afford Duke. Well, maybe I can earn some money by participating in their medical research for fitness magazines.

I don't want to dwell on the real estate market. It's not nearly as expensive as in New York or even Florida. The houses are nice too, most with fireplaces and hardwood floors, but with no garages. We didn't really see as many homes as we hoped to see, but the three that we saw were nice. Well, the first one actually had a flooded crawl space and the wall between the master bedroom and the master bath didn't quite reach the ceiling and the yard was screwed up and the view was mostly of the interior of the neighbor's house and there were a couple of other things... But the other two places were nice.

There are enough Russians in the area to support 3 stores and a Russian Sunday school. This is very important to me, since I can't live without some deli items that Americans seem to not like (i.e herring, cold smoked fish, cold salted and dried fish, fish in oil, fish in tomato sauce, and some fish salads). Oh, plus Raleigh is about 2 hours away from the ocean and 3 hours or so from the mountains. So all in all, Raleigh looks promising.

Will we move there? We haven't decided yet. We're considering some other places as well. Again, if one of us gets a really good job offer in Virginia or Maryland, we'll take it and move there. But either way, I'll let you know as soon as things are more certain.

Getting Ready for the Holidays

I apologize for not posting anything for the last two months or so. No excuses here, just got lazy. Well, a bunch of things was happening as usual. So this is the post with updates:

1) I officially have no happily married or even married friends anymore (relatives don't count here). All my friends are either single or going through some kind of a messy divorce. So, if you're a happily married couple that stumble on this post and decided to be-friend the author, drop a line. Knowing that you are out there somewhere will reinforce my belief in the "happy every-after" and make me less paranoid about my own marriage.

2) My house may no longer be used as a temporary "going-through-tough-times" shelter! This is getting seriously old and very annoying. I'm not being unfriendly or mean, but I've had my share of drama for the next couple of years. Short-term happy guests are still more than welcome!

3) Work is going... I'm supposed to talk to the Boss tomorrow about my performance and such. Keep your fingers crossed - I need a raise.

4) We're thinking about moving to North Carolina. So if you know anything about Raleigh area (Research Triangle) or have interesting job leads there, drop me a line. We'll be going to Raleigh this weekend and I'll provide a more detailed update when we get back.

5) The holidays this year promise to be very interesting. Chris got us reservations at a resort on Amelia Island, FL for Christmas. And I'm planning a little getaway to Savannah for New Year's celebration. I'll post updates as things move along.

6) If you were planning on getting me something for the holidays, my Amazon gift list is posted out there. Just search for me and you shall find 3 pages of books. Yeah, that's a not-so-subtle hint... Apologize for such straightforwardness, but no time to beat around the bush...

More stuff happened, of course, but I just can't think any longer. I'm falling asleep... Until later then...

Weekend in New York - Part III - RUSSIA!

On Sunday my parents and I went to Guggenheim Museum to check out a collection of Russian art. Creatively named RUSSIA!, this exhibition is billed as the most comprehensive and significant exhibition of Russian art outside Russian since the end of the Cold War. It is largely useless to try to explain in this blog how wanderful the whole experience was. You simply have to go and see it for yourself. Let me just tell you that most of the artworks have never before traveled abroad. In addition to over 250 masterpieces of Russian art from 13th century to present day, there is also a selection of first-class Western European paintings and sculptures from Russian imperial collection and from Morozov's and Shchukin's collections.

Word of advice here - go early and allow plenty of time (upward of 3 hours). We got there at 11am on Sunday and by the time we were ready to leave, at 2:30pm, the museum was packed and the line went clear around the building. Also, spending extra $5 on an audio-tour is recommended.

Afterwards we went to Brighton Beach, Brooklyn. It is a noisy, smelly, dark, and dirty place crowded with thousands of hustling and bustling Russians with attitudes as thick as their accents. It's a place worth visiting for all the great people watching. Based on the mix of stores there one might think that Russians are born to eat, drink, read books and medicate themselves. So why do I try to go to Brighton every time I'm in NY? Well, because I love to eat, drink, read books, and medicate myself. In all seriousness, just this time I spent over $70 on books (and books are cheap here, compared to Barnes & Noble). There are also some food items that one cannot buy in a normal American grocery store, especially not in Florida. These include all sorts of dried salted fish, smoked fish, pelmeni, varenniki, all sorts of chocolate, including bitter dark chocolate, blinni, and other such yummy goodness.

My weekend: Part II - Russian Samovar

Ok, so after spending time at the museum walking all these floors and looking at all this art we all got very hungry. Luckily, my brother picked us up and we all went to Russian Samovar restaurant on 52nd Street (yes, the place from one of the "Sex and the City" episodes).

Our motley crew must have projected an air of slight cashlessness or rather of unwillingness to part with too large a chunk of our fortunes. Plus we didn't have reservations. And so we did not get to see the upstairs private rooms (damn you, Kerry from "Sex and the City" for getting it all!). Instead we were shown to a small and rather rickety table downstairs, opposite the grand piano and handed the menues.

And now I have a bone to pick with this place. A 4-dollar glass of hot tea?! Gimmieabreak! I understand, this is not a girl-scout lemonade stand we're talking about, but 4 bucks for a SMALL glass of tea with a SMALL slice of lemon and a TEASPOON of cherry preserves seems a bit too much. At least through in a little dry vanilla сухарик in the package! Lesson learned - don't waste money on tea when you can waste them on vodka.

Let's move on... The whole point for us Russians to order Russian food is to eat something that Mom either doesn't cook because it's too much pain in the butt or that she doesn't cook too well or that can't be bought 10 times cheaper on Brighton Beach. Follow our example. Don't waste your hard-earned dollars on a small 8-dollar plate of vinegrett salad when a pound of it can be bought at a deli for half as much.
Don't go for exotic-sounding pelmeni that would cost you roughly a dollar each when your friend's wife or mother makes them every Sunday (not to mention a great little вареничная on Brighton where 50 of those cost $4.95). Admittedly, the food there, at Samovar, is excellent in quality. And yet, if you are looking for a taste of exotic Russia on a budget, try to get some appetizers instead of entrees and skip the desserts (a 10-dollar piece of cake anyone?). This way you don't just save a lot of money, but will also stay in great shape. And that, ladies and gentlement, is becoming more and more of an exotic thing in this country! (And later on you can always grab a 2-dollar hotdog from a street vendor. We did it and survived!).
To be continued...

Museum Mile - my weekend NY-style

First off, my highly critical brother, Arkadiy, advised me to change my profile picture in this blog. Apparently, on it, I look like I have a gap between my front teeth or even a whole tooth missing. This, he said, could be attributed to the loss of pixellation quality due to re-sizing (not verbatum, just how I understood it). So, I took a closer look at the picture and here's my solution - simply enlarge the picture and the "gap" disappears. Of course, in this case my face looks like I've survived a particularly unforgiving strain of the smallpox - all covered in some sort of pokemarks. But don't you get scared - it's all due to the loss of quality (see above) and I'm much better looking in real life (even my Mom says so!).

And since I"m too lazy to sift through pictures looking for that perfect one where my eyes are open, my mouth is slightly open in a sweet-heart smile, all my teeth are present, my hair is nicely done, my skin tone is even, my posture is straight, and my fat rolls are particularly well-hidden, I am going to keep this picture for a while, a long while.

Now, with this matter settled, let's move on to my weekend report. In short, it was a great and terrific weekend. The minor snags, such as ugly weather and my parents' arguing did not do significant damage to the fun level of either Saturday or Sunday.

SATURDAY: My friend Irina K. came down from Boston. To celebrate our reunion (we haven't seen each other for, hmmm, I'd say at least 5 years) we decided to spend the day in New York City. Irina was up for anything and proudly proclaimed that she was going to be my "tail" for a day. And I really wanted to go to MoMA (that's the museum with all the weird modern art). So Irina picked me up and all four of us (yes, including her cousin and her little brother) took a train to NYC. Here we are, at the train station.

As we arrived to NY Penn Station and got outside for a leisurely stroll to MoMa (that's the museum with all the weird modern art that you have to pretend you understand) the weather turned from bad to worse. The rain almost stopped, but the wind picked up and it got much colder. In short, it was a perfect museum day. We were walking along Fashion Ave, talking about stuff and snapping pictures. Little did I know that a little kitchy dream of mine was waiting to happen just around the corner or rather straight up the road. For right there, right on a little pedestrian island in the middle of Broadway stood a very special dude that I have heard about for the past several years but never had a chance to see. Yes, it was Mr. Naked Cowboy himself - boots, a hat, a pair of tighty-whities, a guitar, and not much else - basking in the warm glow of camera flashes. Ok, don't get me wrong - I don't think he's all that (not in this cold weather anyway, if you know what I mean, wink-wink). But rather he was a curiousity and a symbol, a cross between the Statue of Liberty and a two-headed calf. And who wouldn't want a picture with either of these?! So here it goes.

Anyway, after some wandering around we finally found MoMA and got the tickets (people, DO carry your student ID on you at all times, even if it's expired. It saves major dough, i.e. $8 off a regular ticket price). By the way, go there on Friday evenings when it's FREE.
Also, pick up an audio guide which is free, unlike the little printed version.

I'm not going to talk much about MoMA since the best thing to do is to just go there and see it all for yourself. Or at least check out their website. I will post some pictures from the museum next week when I download them on my computer. But here's a little advice

- don't waste too much time on the top floor unless you are really interested in quick-on quick-off condoms, bullet-proof evening dresses, virus stuffed toys, and cardboard houses. These are all wanderful and fascinating, but not if you only have a few hours and haven't been at MoMA before.
- do go see Jackson Pollock paintings even if you're not a big fan of his artwork, you might enjoy having an opportunity to sit down and watch the little museum official shoo away art-lovers that get too close in their quest to fully appreciate the complexity of the paintings' texture.
- the Contemporary Gallery is the most fun (from the little that I had a chance to see). Go there if you are looking for some anatomically correct 3-D nudity and stay for a movie. While watching a movie in which some menacing-looking spreading foam causes a chain reaction of little explosions, fires, more chemicals being spilled, and old trash put to ingenious use, keep in mind that your time is precious and limited. Overall, this movie is great - low on plot, high on anticipation - non-stop action yet a total lack of climax or ending. Enjoy!

To be continued...

In New York

I'm in New York now, for the next couple of weeks. Of course, I have to work during the week, a normal 9 to 5:30 deal. But I still get nights and weekends, right? Sounds like my cell phone calling plan.

It's cold here, especially after Daytona Beach. Maybe I'll get used to it in a while, but for now I'm wearing two sweaters and surviving on gallons of hot tea.

Mom and Dad are doing just fine. The are being same as usual, except even more so. Dad keeps talking about moving to Russia once he reaches the retirement age. Mom keeps buying boxes to store stuff in (and she's got tons of stuff). The boxes are all different size, shape, and made of different materials. So there is a dizzying array of them all over the kitchen. Some are even double-stacked матрешка-style.

The house looks much better from the outside - the landscaping is almost all done now and there's a rock wall and a real lawn too. Most of the tools are now stored in a shed, instead of laying all over the yard. Of course, Dad wouldn't be himself if he wasn't walking around talking about how something or other is really poorly done and won't hold for another year all because nobody listens to his advice.

I spent last night at Masha's. Pasha went to Ohio for the weekend and Masha was afraid of staying in the house by herself. At first I was very skeptical and wanted to make fun of her. But after laying in the dark room late at night listening to the cracking and gurgling noises produced by their heating system, I stopped being so brave myself. It was a lot of fun though. First, we had a little party. I saw several of my old friends and met a couple of new people. In general, everybody seemed to have tons of good time, including Alisa who just couldn't stop giggling.

She's so funny now. She makes cute little faces and constantly wants to grab things (especially keys, bottles, forks). In a true Robin Hood fashion, she immediately gives her bounty away to anyone who happens to be next to her. She also likes to get her face dirty with whatever it is she's munching on - apples, bananas, strawberries, and little cookies. At some point yesterday her face was covered in minced foodstuff mixed generously with saliva. She crawled under the table and stood by me for a minute or two before I picked her up. When I did, her face was already clean, if a bit sticky. I didn't give it much thought until later that night when I noticed strange stains on my jeans and figured out that Alisa used them as a fancy napkin.

I wish I had pictures of her to put here, but I don't have any right now. But if you imagine a little girl with showlder-length reddish-blond hair, a pair of sparkling blue eyes, a little snubby nose, 8 teeth and a big smile, you'll get an idea.

Crazy Busy Weekend

Boy, am I glad that this weekend is over! It was absolutely exhausting. Yeh, I know, you must be thinking that I got tired playing strip dodgeball. C'mon, I don't do it, leave it up to professionals. More about strip dodgeball later though.

First, we had some painting to finish. I know, it's much less exciting than dodgeball, but bear with me. So, yes, we finished painting the guest room (it took us a month from start to finish). But then we went even further and painted an accent wall in the living room. Those of you who saw our house understand the magnitude of the task. Oh, and we also hung new curtains and bought a mattress set. So yes, we're going all out on this. Why? Because my parents finally decided to visit us for the first time in almost 4 years. But first I'll be going to New York to see them for a couple of weeks. More on that later...

Ok, so after we were done with painting, shopping, and cleaning the house, we went to the MILFamania strip dodgeball tournament. Ok, it was supposed to start at 2pm and go on until 6pm. We got to Ocean Deck at 3pm and the stip part was already over! After elbowing our way through a dense crowd of about a hunderd people, we saw two groups of women playing dodgeball in their swimsuits (only 1 was wearing a thong). You can see more action on the beach during any summer weekend.

Don't get me wrong, it wasn't all bad even though my favorite contestant (a 300lbs M(ILF)) wasn't there! Others were rather plain looking. Some of the MILFs had all the accourtments of their age and social status, including stretchmarks, huge tatoos and breast implants. But to be completely fair, they had tons of attitude and were much more impressive than a bunch of youngsters in bikinis on the opposite side of the improvised court. As for the Future MILFs, at least on of them looked like she was recovering from giving birth to a septuplet. And the sad part was, the Future MILFs lost even though they had numerical advantage all through the game!

Either way, by the time we found an empty table, ordered a couple of drinks and appetizers, the whole thing was over and some crazy-looking dude started preparing an in-doors stage for a karaoke contest. By the way, as nice and popular as Ocean Deck is, don't go there unless you're prepared to pay $1.00 per each halapeno popper or $4.00 for a bottle of beer (import).

So we finished our appetizers and got out of there just in time to make it to the car before the rain started. Chris was free to go home, but I had more planned for the night. Namely, a couple of my Russian friends, Eleonora and Albina, and I were getting together at Albina's for a fun karaoke of our own. We bought some drinks and a Key Lime pie and sat around a cozy living room enjoying a gorgeous view of both the ocean and the river from the 15th floor of Albina's condo. We had tons of fun singing (mostly off-key) some Russian songs, culminating in a spunky trio performance of "Zaika moya". After our repertoir was exhausted, we just talked and entertained Albina's daughter, Bianka.

On Sunday, my husband invited me to the "Wing House", a "Hooters" look-alike chain. "V Tulu so svoim samovarom"! I'm not sure if the waitresses there are any better looking that at "Hooters" (the practice of hiring girls of certain type suffers heavily from the EOE requirements). But if you want to get some good food, go straight to the Wing House. Their wings are great, whether mild, medium, hot, dallas, or what have you, especially if ordered "naked".

That's it. Back to work today! Monday is almost over!!!!!!!!

My Mama's Birthday

Today is my Mom's Birthday. As hard of a life as she had (just imaging dealing with me, my brother, AND my Dad for years), she's as lovely as a daisy. Those who know her know that she's an awesome woman. For those who don't - believe me, you're missing out on knowing one of the best people in the world. She's no angel, but she's damn close to being one!

I know it's only Thursday and so there's not going to be any big birthday bash at my parents' house. And unfortunately I won't be in NY for another couple of weeks. But maybe when I get there, we'll remedy this situation. Mom doesn't like big parties. She's a very private person. So maybe we'll just go to the City like we did a couple of years ago when she was getting her American citizenship. We had a lot of fun exploring the Chinatown. Or what about the other time when we went to see Christmas Spectacular at the RadioCity Music Hall?!

So yes, I'll be in NY very soon. When? I don't know exactly, but I think I'll be around the 15th of October. I'll stay there for a couple of weeks so I have a chance to see most of my family and friends. And then my parents are going to fly to Daytona Beach for a whole week! FINALLY!!!

In the mean time, some of the upcoming events in the Daytona Beach area:

1) Saturday, 8 October 2005 - MILFamania strip dodgeball at the Ocean Deck! (I'll try to get there to get some pictures for my blog).

2) 20-23 October 2005 - Biketoberfest, yes again (I'll miss all of it, so I'll have tons of catching up to do come Bikeweek time).

3) 29-30 October 2005 - Florida Skyfest. Hopefully we'll see the last half a day of it with my parents. It's really cool 'cause they do the airshow over the beach.

A trip to Charleston

Well, what can I say - working life sucks! Of course, I gotta work to make money, but wouldn't it be much nicer if I were to win the cash though? I mean, then I could do what I want to do most - travel.

Finally, last weekend we got out of Daytona and went to see my cousin Olga and her husband Noah at their new place in Charleston, SC. Of course, because of our jobs, we couldn't leave until Friday evening. And of course we had to be back on Sunday evening. Now figure in 6-hour drive (one-way) and you get the idea of how much time we got to spend in Charleston. And, to make it all even better, my boss absolutely insisted on me working overtime on Friday night! So we didn't get out of the house until after 7pm. But we made it to Charleston and even managed to spend an hour or two talking with Olga and Noah, Russian-style, in their little kitchen.

If you think we didn't wake up too early next morning, you just might be right. Either way, after spending time eating breakfast, talking, and getting ready, we finally set out on a tour of Charleston. First, Noah drove us all around a local getto. It looked very Southern - some of the people on the streets might have come straight out of "Uncle Tom's Cabin" or "Gone with the Wind". The whole place didn't look dangerous or scary, not by the light of day anyway, just very sad - old row houses that haven't seen any maintenance in decades with their peeling paint and grimy siding, with walls leaning in every-which direction and sagging porches, with old rust-covered air-conditioning units practically falling out of the half-boarded windows.

After such a great start, things started to look up. We parked in the Historic Distric and walked around a bit. Since neither one of us really knew any appropriate historical facts, we just read occasional plaques and mostly gawked at the architecture or landscaping details. Here's the thing about Noah - he walks very fast, almost at a running clip. What's more, he walks very determinately, as if he had some particular destination in mind. Put the two together and you turn a leisurely sigh-seeing stroll into an endurance race with a couple of short stops to read an inscription or two. The thing is as far as I figure out, there is no particular destination we MUST get to. May be it's Noah's propensity as a journalist to move quickly, always on a look-out for a story.

Still, our walk was most enjoyable, if somewhat short. We returned to a car and drove to Mt. Pleasant to "keep it real", as Noah jokingly suggested. What a nice place it was! The word "pleasant" would describe most of what we saw - tastefully rich houses (with their expensiveness merely suggested by architectural details, location, and landscaping, rather than by size and gaudiness), narrow sandy beaches, remains of old fort that gave South Carolina its Palmetto State status, a small diner on a tree-lined corner, and a tiny and welcoming elementary school.

After a short drive and a shorter still walk on the beach, we returned to Charleston for some afternoon drinks on a rooftop terrace of some posh restaurant. The sun was shining straight down on us and the temperatures must had been well above 80. We found a cool place under a striped umbrella and I started imagining a large frozen drink - a daiquiri perhaps - so cold that the beads of water slowly run down the side of the glass, cooling my fingers... I was almost tasting my drink, when the waitress announced that they do not serve frozen drinks or tap beer. By the looks on some other faces I could tell that it wasn't just me who just seen a dream die. But there were plenty of other drinks to have and so we ordered. My Flirtiny with Smirnoff Raspberry vodka was mild and sweet. Olga's Perfect Manhattan was perfectly strong. And Chris won the prize for the fruitiest drink of all - bright pink in a tall glass full of ice-cubes and with a cherry on top.

Later that evening we went on a short walk in the park by the Citadel, trying to find some magnolia pine cones for Olga. But it was getting dark and as we couldn't see too well, we returned home to some food and wine and a totally weird Russian movie about the Hermitage Museum.

The next morning we had little time to waste and yet we wasted it plenty. The time spent on getting ready to get out of the house is apparently directly proportional to the number of people involved. And so we didn't step out until noon (and that's without spending time on breakfast, mind you). First we head straight to a local bakery for some brunch (oh, the delicious grilled portabello mushroom sandwich!). And then we decided to briefly stop by the library that was having the book sale. Hehe, that was a major mistake since we spent at least an hour or two there.

Finally, we said goodbyes and exchanges invitations and were on the road home. The most memorable part was a small country store on Rt. 17 that was selling peach and cherry cider. If you ever drive in those parts, make sure to stop by - it's worth a small delay.

Talented Mr. Xander

Сейчас Зэндер - еще котенок. Но когда вырастет большим - непременно станет библиотекарем...


А может быть - строителем...


А может быть - разработчиком баз данных...


Но пока-что он у нас - кот в решете...

New week - new hurricane

Do you know that we have about 2 months left of the hurricane season (in Atlantic Ocean) and only 4 hurricane names left? I kind of wander what if we run out of names before the year is over?

In other news, Xander's flees have a conference today on his neck. I used to think it was more of a mating meeting, but I firmly believe it's a war conference now. They are strategizing how to resist our repeated attempts at exterminating them.

Anne Oakley and I

Anne Oakley: As a youngster, Oakley learned to shoot in the woods of Darke County. During hard times, she helped support her family with the game she caught.

I: As a youngster, I learned to shoot in the woods of Fort Jackson. The best way for me to support someone with my rifle is to lend it as a crutch.

Anne Oakley: She captivated the royalty of Europe. Queen Victoria was quite impressed with her. And on one famous occasion the crown prince of Germany encouraged her to shoot a cigarette from his mouth.

I: I captivated National Guard range safety personnel my poor shooting skills. I was repeatedly encouraged to keep my rifle pointed "up and down the range" and to remember "breathing and trigger squeeze".

Anne Oakley: At 30 paces, she could slice a playing card held edgewise. She could shoot holes through coins at a smiliar distance. It was even said she could "scramble eggs in midair."

I: I shoot 4 out of 4 at 300 meter and 250 meter targets. And I shoot 2 out of 4 at 100 meter targets.

Anne Oakley: At the height of her career, she was one of the most famous cultural icons in the United States.

I: Six years after enlisting (I guess, it can be considered as the height of my career), I shot 37 out of 40 on M-16 rifle range (paper targets) and 26 out of 30 on M-9 pistol range (pop-up targets).

By the way, the whole entire Army structure is rigged towards the officers. If I had any doubts left after 6 years in, they were dispelled at the Camp Blanding, FL firing range last weekend. Most officers have to qualify with M-9 pistol only. It's very light and easy to shoot (and easy to clean, by the way). The targets are much closer, with the furthest being just 31 meters away. You shoot from the standing position only and hold M-9 with both hands for greater stability. And to top it all off, you are given extra bullets!!! Yes, I am not kidding - officers are given 40 rounds, but only 30 targets to shoot at! What a life! Oh, and to shoot expert you only need to hit 26 out of 30 - that's 86%. In comparison, on a rifle range, you must shoot 38 out of 40, or 95%, to qualify as an expert.

Labor Day

Ok, so I changed the name of my blog and its purpose. Now I'm going stuff that I do during my LEAP YEAR. For explanation of what the Leap Year is all about, see blog description. If it's still not clear - e-mail me.

So, here are the latest developments:

1) Before you read any further, please go to the Red Cross website and donate whatever you can to help the victims of Hurricane Katrina.

2)
My cat, Xander, is growing just fine. He must be 5lbs now, if not more. But in his mind, he's still a tiny kitten. No doubt, he's very spoiled already. There are certain things that just have to be done every day, like letting him play with water out of the faucet, or allowing him to mess up a perfectly made bed. Or playing with him whenever he wishes. A couple of days ago Xander discovered two things - toilet paper and paper towels. Here's a picture of a paper towel roll. Believe me, toilet paper roll looked MUCH worse.

3) Gas is $2.95/gallon here. A pound of tomatoes is $1.99. Now, at least gas is as good as it can get. Tomatoes, on the other hand, look like crap and taste like cardboard. Same is with other veggetables, except for potatoes. Apparently, this lack of taste does not bother most people here. I suspect they simply don't each too many veggies. What gives me this idea? Well, first of all, these 200-300lbs "dieters" at Wal-Mart or Publix always fill their carts up with sodas, chips, and frozen dinners. Second, every time we're at the register, I have to educate a cashier on the names of different produce items. For example, yesterday one lucky cashier learned three new veggies - red cabbage, radishes, and zuccinies (which were originally mistaken for cucumbers). So, what to make of all this? Nothing other than this - wanna good food cheap - grow it yourself! Our old dacha came to mind and Chris and I ran to the nearest Home Depot. Half an hour later, we ran out carrying several pots and some plantings. Now we're testing our green thumbs on two tomato plants, two bell pepper plants, an italian parsley and a chocolate mint. To top it all off, we are attempting to grow our very own pineapple.

4) Since it's Labor Day today, we'll be having a cook-out right outside the garage (remember - we live in a townhouse). The usual American holiday fare of grilled chicken, steak, and potatoes will be supplemented by a no less typical Russian holiday dish - a beet salad.