Must stop regarding Russia always through the lens of hardship. One of example of a gazillion: women in Moscow seem to live in the filmiest of skirts, the floatiest dresses, and bejeweled sandals all the (comparatively chilly) summer, rain or shine. "It must be because they're stuck in boots and parkas eight months of the year," I'm tempted to reason. My reflex explanation leaves them no room for simple joie de vivre.
On the other hand, Lena made the girls cherry compote this morning, and when they turned up their noses, she tasted it again and said thoughtfully, "Well, the cherries aren't very good. But we always loved when my mother made it. Then again, we were hungry."
News from the weekend:
Weird brand names lately passing through our kitchen. The muesli is called Master Crumble. The vanilla ice cream is sold under the label Morbidissimo.
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