The Travel Diaries: A Tour of Russia

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We're back! For the last 10 days Blair and I have been on a tour of Russia with quick stops in Estonia and Finland. We arrived back home around midnight on Thursday and are just now pulling out of the jet lag. (I woke up at 4:30 am on Friday full of energy, cleaned the house top to bottom, then promptly collapsed into bed for a 6-hour nap.) 

We haven't yet mustered the courage to sit down and go through our photos. The curse of the digital camera is that you feel the need to photo-document every step of your journey. I'll pick out the best and post soon. I'll also try and avoid giving a blow-by-blow description of our trip, although the next few blog entries will cover some of the highlights. 

For now, I leave you with the group photo above, taken outside the Winter Palace in St. Petersburg. The Winter Palace was the official residence of the Russian monarchs from 1732 to 1917 and is now the site of the Hermitage museum. We had quite the excursion there, but more on that later. I've also included a quick list of my observations of the many amenities--or not--offered during a tour of Russia. Enjoy!

What Russia Has In Abundance:

  • Salt
  • Dill (they eat it on EVERYTHING)
  • Potatoes
  • Beets
  • Short skirts
  • High heels
  • Textured hose
  • Clean streets
  • Pollen
  • Smokers
  • Good bus system
  • Well trained and seemingly well-loved dogs
  • Portion controlled meals
  • Subway, McDonalds, Baskin Robbins, Pizza Hut, Burger King, Sbarro

What Russia Is Lacking: 

  • Smiles
  • Customer Service
  • Salad
  • Health Food
  • Wash cloths
  • Feral Cats
  • Obese people
  • Decaf coffee or tea
  • Soft beds 

It's good to be home. I've never considered myself an overly patriotic person but when the customs officer at Dulles stamped our passports upon reentry to the U.S. and said, "Welcome home, folks," I almost cried. God bless America. 

Cheers,

Dena

Reviving the Garden of the Dead

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"The Garden of the Dead" is how I refer to the scorched, lifeless plots of dirt in front of our home. I can't grow anything without killing it (which partly explains why we chose not to have children) and gave up on trying to have a flower-filled garden years ago. I'd be okay with the decision except for the fact that I feel bad for our neighbors. The neighbors on one side run a B&B and their yard is immaculate with bright, blooming plants and flowers. The neighbors on our other side grow beautiful roses, sunflowers, and butterfly bushes.

We, of course, are the beneficiaries of their efforts. We can look out windows on either side of our home and revel in a wealth of blooms and beauty. Our neighbors, by contrast, look out their windows and see dying baby hostas gasping their last breath and the charred remains of our grass. 

My mom has decided she can't stand the ugliness one minute more and is going to help us transform the front of our house. She--and I want this noted for the record--has sworn that she will be the one to water and care for any plants we put in. 

She kept bothering me with questions like, "Do you like tall plants? How do you feel about pea-sized gravel? What are your favorite flowers?" until finally I just handed her a check and said, "Go buy stuff." That's how I operate. I would LOVE a front yard filled with beautiful flowers. I just don't want to have to think about it, plan it, or be involved in any way. 

I'm actually quite excited to see what she does. It's like going on one of those HGTV shows where you turn the keys over to your house in the hopes that you'll come back to a transformed space. Mom is concerned about doing something we don't like but I encourage her by pointing out that anything is better than what's there now. It's a no-lose situation. 

I'll try to get some before and after pics. And again, just to be clear--Mom: You swore you'd be the one to water them. 

Cheers,

Dena

Murder in the Chicken Coop

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You may recall from prior posts that I get my eggs from a local dealer (read: friend). The conditions that commercial chickens are kept in are terrible, so I do my best to avoid buying eggs from a grocery store. Even if they say "cage free," you just can't be sure what that means. Luckily, I have several local friends that raise free-roaming, sun-loving, spoiled chickens and I get my eggs from them.

Unfortunately, my main hookup called to tell me that it looked like a cat or coyote had gotten into her coop. Chickens started disappearing until there was only one left. Poor chicken. Can you imagine watching your friends disappear night after night until it's just you? Then you hear a rustling in the shadows... it comes closer... closer...

My friend tried to barricade the coop but wasn't sure how the whatever it was was getting in. She thinks she's got it figured out now. Unfortunately, it was too late for the last chicken. 

My friend ordered new chickens and they came in the mail last week. (How wild is that?) It will take a few months before they're grown enough to start producing so I guess I'm off of eggs for awhile. 

Who knew life in the great Madison wilderness was so fraught with danger? 

Cheers,

Dena