From the monthly archives:

June 2015

A Scene in Front of a Fountain

by Marinka on June 28, 2015

A while back, Papa was telling me about an argument that he had with Mama.

“We had real scene in front of fountain,” he told me, in Russian, which I am indicating by writing in English but nonetheless leaving out all the articles, so you can feel the Russianness. Let me know how that’s working out for you.

“What’s a scene in front of a fountain?” I asked, also in Russian, but as written in English with articles, because I apparently can’t help myself.

And Papa explained that in many operatic and theatrical productions, there is a where a young couple has a Dramatic Moment â„¢ and it is often in front of a fountain.

Needless to say, I fell in love with the expression.

And I told the Guy I Went to Ireland With about it. It turns out that he was a good choice of a person to tell, because now whenever we walk past a fountain, he stops and we have a mini-scene. I see it as him paying tribute to my cultural heritage. He sees it as “straightening [your] shit out” or, as he has recently called it, “fecal realignment”.

Also, whenever one of us walks past a fountain, we take a photo and text it to the other. Well, at least I do. Now that I think of it, he’s been a little light on the Fountain Foto Footage.

Here, as Exhibit A, is a photo that I recently texted him, of a fountain in Brooklyn:

Screen Shot 2015-06-28 at 6.09.30 PM

Please note that there are no images of fountains that he sent me, so, if I were the type to keep score (which I am not), it would be Marinka: 1; The Guy I Went to Ireland With: 0.

Anyway, this part is prologue.

What I want to tell you now is that I’m going on vacation and you can’t stop me. I don’t know why you’d want to, anyway.

I knew it was time to go on vacation because of these dreams that I’ve been having. Now you probably know how I feel about people who tell their dreams to other people, but fortunately I’ve been blessed with the gift of hypocrisy so those standards don’t apply to me.

This is an example of the dreams I’ve been having:

I’m in the supermarket. I’m buying yoghurt, fruit, milk, orange juice, cereal. YOU KNOW THE THINGS I BUY IN THE STORE EVERY WEEK OF MY LIFE. Is Ryan Gosling in this dream, scantily clad and proposing to me? No, he is not. Am I involved in a car chase or anything else quasi-heroic? Again, no. I am just shopping. And I don’t even have any coupons.

Another dream:

I am at home and my son comes home. “How was school?” I ask him. “Fine,” he says. End of dream.

What the fuck is that?

Why do I have to waste precious dream time having such banal dreams?

Is this the part of menopause that no one tells you about because they’re too embarrassed?

I mean, even my real life isn’t that boring and I strive for dullness.

So I’m going on vacation with my Beautiful Daughter and The Guy I Went to Ireland With, who recently complained about his moniker ending with a preposition, which is a fine how-do-you-do, having waited a year for the name to set, if you ask me. Changing his blog-name now would be akin to renaming a foster child or something. Not that we have that kind of a relationship, of course.

But things are about to look up, I feel it in my bones. Unless that’s osteoporosis.

Because we are going to Rome.
And do you know what Rome has?


Like this one:

Screen Shot 2015-06-28 at 6.05.48 PM

It’s going to be some scene.

(And of course I can’t help but think of my trip to Rome last year. And how different things were in some ways.)



by Marinka on June 11, 2015

Last week I met my lovely daughter’s handsome boyfriend which is one of those things that I file under “about damn time” since they’ve been dating for over a year which is like a decade in teenage years and who knows how long in dog years, although I suspect it depends on the breed, at least somewhat. Speaking of which, his favorite breed is a husky, which is not mine, so there’s tension already. But he was very nice (and didn’t push the whole husky agenda on me) and we did the whole handshake/nice to meet you thing and then as soon as he left, I asked her what he thought of me. And she said that he said that I seemed like a nice person, so I am happy to report that my daughter is involved with some kind of a genius who is an excellent judge of character and appreciates high value people when he meets them. I’m paraphrasing, of course, but still. STILL.

The other thing that happened is that I met my physical trainer’s boyfriend. Not behind her back, or anything, I’m not suicidal. We were at the gym, and she told me to do a plank, and I was hoping it was some sort of urbanspeak for a mojito and then she demonstrated and I got into this plank business and then her boyfriend walked by and she started to talk to him, while I was planking, which I now realized is urbanspeak for dying. Finally, she told me to deplank. But still. STILL.

I know these things happen in threes so I can’t wait to see whose boyfriend I’m going to meet next. I kind of hope it’s Ryan Gossling’s girlfriend’s.


D and E

June 5, 2015

The other evening I was having dinner with a friend and she mentioned that at our age, we have to do more than just exercise or just diet, in fact we have to do both. There are many things that I hate about this, starting with that she said “at our age” even though she […]

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