The Russian is a great cook. I'm often greeted with wonderful smells when I arrive home from work at night: chicken baking in in the oven, cucumber and dill being chopped for a salad, a splash of fragrant sunflower oil. He knows better than to ply me with anything herring-related, or cold soups involving
This is not Photoshopped. Two ginormous matryoshkas actually took a ride on the London Eye to kick off a Russian winter festival back in 2008. This is the cutest thing I've ever seen, at least this morning...
I can't stop writing about my mother. She's really been in my head these past few days. I want to thank everyone for the kind response to yesterday's post -- it means a lot. If you'll indulge me once more, I wanted to share some of Mom's writing with you. This one feels exactly right
This is an appreciation for my mother the writer. For the ability she passed down to me. She forgave me when I abruptly ditched writing in college to study art history; little did she know the blogosphere would bring me full circle. This is also an appreciation of the women bloggers I've met over the
What says "I love you, Mom" better than a tote bag splashed with the liquors of the world? Not literally splashed, of course, although depending on your Mom -- or you -- that could very well happen in time.
In which I get to the bottom of my husband's unhealthy relationship with shoes. It's not a fetish, not exactly, more like a hoarding habit...
I got a tweet a while ago from this adorable girl named Ginger who had seen this part of my blog and wanted me to take a look at the nesting dolls in her Etsy shop. So I did, and how could I not post about them?
Cupcakes and vibrators and leather, oh my! It's time for this week's round-up of intriguing vodka news from around the globe...
I bailed on my old blog and started this one to tackle the topic of bi-cultural marriage more deeply and dare I say -- at least once in a while -- with some degree of seriousness. Because it's HARD. Bi-cultural marriage, not blogging. Actually, blogging is hard, too. Especially when you're committed to spelling correctly
Do I give the impression it’s all laughs and cute broken English in the Smirnov house? It’s not, I just prefer to focus on the sit-com dimension of our marriage. It's easy enough to tell these stories through a comedic lens but actually, some of them weren't completely funny as they were unfolding. Like the