To illustrate how harsh this is: I haven’t cooked anything in three days! N will have to eat pelmeni, like a typical Soviet bachelor when he gets home tonight.
And the worst part is that the dang conference just has to be this week. I’m leaving on Thursday. I was so looking forward to the conference (my close friend Ol.! Seafood! Romantic memories of Baltimore! CV clinic! Hotel gym! Red Emma’s!) but now I don’t want to go.
Clarissa's Blog 
You might already know this, but Red Emma’s is no longer in it’s below ground hole in the wall near Mount Vernon. It’s moved up to a bigger space on North Avenue.
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Ah, thank you for telling me, I had no idea. If it moved, I’m not going because I only wanted to go because that’s where I used to live with N back in 2008. . .
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You lived in Red Emma’s?
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Almost. ☺ No, we lived right around the corner but Red Emma’s is where I started my blogging life. All of the early posts were written there.
They hated me and N there, calling us “the Russians ” and trying to get rid of us at every opportunity. Good times.
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“N will have to eat pelmeni, like a typical Soviet bachelor when he gets home tonight.”
To complete the experience, if you have an extra room you can furnish it like this:
Then you can invite some random drunk guy to sleep in the second bed and serve him the pelmeni on a big dirty, chipped plate like this:
Kind of snarl when you slam it down on the table.
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