more things I did while not writing stories for you...
5. One of my brothers is traveling, and stopping over for a bit in Odessa. For some sibling solidarity, I've been stepping up my visits to Little Odessa. I'm pretty sure they're exactly the same.
One of the many medical theories that I've made up is: You can't get skin cancer from a tan you achieve while wearing sunscreen. So after I sit on the beach for a while, willing the sun's rays to cut through my SPF 45, I go to the Russian supermarket. I'm intrigued by the indecipherable Cyrillic and by the way Russians seem to manage to squeeze meat into every food option, so that both the potato and beet salads have mysterious small pieces of meat within them.
Sometimes people speak to me in Russian, and I am, of course, uncomprehending. I feel far from my grandparents and great-grandparents then, but closer as I buy from one of the 12 varieties of pickled mushrooms. We may not speak the same language, but we can connect over a shared affection for pickled vegetables of all varieties. (thx for the image.)
6. I accidentally bought mom jeans. That's right -- there they are in all their unflattering glory. I will ride any fashion trend to the bottom of the cliff. Leggings? Sure! Cowboy boots? Why not? White belts? Go for it! I'm sporting an ironic hipster mustache right now. OK: that ones actually a lie. But I'm pretty sure if it were possible, I'd do it up.
The PS to this story is that my mom saw this picture on Flickr & sent me an email saying: "But Madeleine dear, I wear tapered jeans now!"
7. I freed my bicycle with the help of a super-lovely security guard!
So maybe I wasn't so busy. And wasn't having so many adventures. But I was busy enough that my room wound up looking like this:
Scary, huh? ALL CLEAN NOW, I promise! In fairness to the mess (and me!), when your room is the size of a jail cell, it's easy for that to happen. Really: it could've happened to you too. Or maybe just me.