Klara and N are setting out to visit friends. (Klara’s friends, obviously. I’m still waiting for the happy day when N will have a friend of his own).
“I’m opening the door, Daddy!” Klara announces. “I’m leaving without you!”
“If you leave without me, I’ll end up in jail,” N reminds, in his very fatalistic Russian style.
“Well, then you’d better hurry up because I’m sure you don’t want to go to jail, Daddy,” Klara explains sweetly.
In the meantime, I cooked the most Soviet menu I can think of – kotlety and millet, the standard fare of Soviet cafeteria – and went out to admire the brand-new political sign on my lawn. I’d never felt as American as when I got this sign. It’s a proud moment. I always wanted one but had no idea how people get them.
And before anybody asks why I couldn’t find out, let me remind them that in the past 5 years I gave birth and published 1 book, 3 book chapters, 11 articles and 8 book reviews. I need stuff to appear by itself without any extra effort from me.
