3 Countries, 2 Continents, 1 Week (Part 2)

So after Marbella, we were off to Gibraltar. I wish I could say I was excited to go to Gibraltar, because that would mean I had ever heard of it before. But, I had not. Although I went to private school, they still taught American Geography. Probably how I ended up living in Moscow. I thought it was somewhere in Colorado. I knew nothing about Gibraltar, and although I wish I could say it was some hidden gem, it was not. All there really was to see was the big rock, which was as it sounds, a big rock. A bunch of wild monkeys, who live on the rock, and according to all of the signs around, pick pocket anyone who steps foot on the rock.

I trust this monkey, not at all.

I have never been comfortable around wild animals, but monkeys? Forget it. Those bastards are crazy strong. I am from Florida, home state of where the lady got her entire face ripped off by a "domesticated" monkey. A wild monkey? Pffftttttt.

I have mad respect for this girl, she learned young. Don't underestimate the power of a good side eyes look:

 

The rock IS worth seeing if you are in the area. Pro-Tip: If you are doing the rock, bring a change of shoes. I am constantly doing whatever I can to avoid looking like a typical American tourist while vacationing in Europe, and as a result I will not wear sneakers, no matter how practical or comfortable they would be for the 10+ hours a day of walking on unpredictable terrain I may have planned or unplanned. I wish I could give you good advice on a comfortable walking shoe on par with a sneaker that does not leave you looking like you should also invest in a fanny pack, but sadly, I do not. My Toms wedges are super comfortable, but as a wedge, not great for cobble stones (and you do walk around feeling the need to alert people that you are NOT a Hipster). 

Another thing about Gibraltar? Despite being a British colony, Gibraltar does NOT stamp your passport upon entry. Even if you ask. Twice. The entire town is tax free, which leaves it resembling a giant airport duty free shop, so if you are into that sort of thing, Gibraltar is the place to load up. 

Keeping a safe distance

3 Countries, 2 Continents, 1 Week (part 1)

In 2002 I left a study abroad in Madrid with a big middle finger in the air screaming "NEVER AGAIN, SPAIN, NEVER AGAIN!!" I spent an entire semester looking down on the metro to see someone else's hand in my pocket, dodging piles of dog poo on the sidewalks, getting locked out of my host family's house, being timed while taking a shower, picking pin feathers out of chicken, sneaking off to the bathroom to dump cups of coffee down the sink so I wouldn't offend my host mom and being surprised by meat fillings in pastries I thought would be sweet.  I do realize that part of my poor experiences may have been because I was a naive blonde 19 year old American girl with no worldly experience, save several trips to Epcot. I kept that vow for 10 years.

Then, while planning our April Vacation (yeah I said April Vacation because yeah I get 14 weeks off a year. Go ahead and drool, it is my benefit for living in The Russia) the SOUTH of Spain started singing its' Siren Song and I found myself booking the Marriott Vacation club in Marbella, Spain. Whistle whistle look at my pool. Whistle whistle Paella. You like how my Sangria tastes? Oh, are you look  at Yo? Hola, Lover! Who could resist South of Spain? She is such a pervert.

So we booked 4 nights in Spain. Then my husband, who also had a piss of a time in Spain once upon a time in a small town called Barcelona, realized we could not spend the entire trip in Spain, we needed to diversify. He was not a 19 year old dumb blonde American girl when he went, but his bad experience could be explained by his high expectations due to his love of the Counting Crows and their serenades to Spain. Come to think of it, Adam Duritz, may be responsible for  for a lot of my Husband's issues. An entirely different post. We began looking at nearby cities, and countries, and decided to go all in by planning the last of our 3 days split between Gibraltar and Morocco. This is how we ended up on 2 continents in the course of a week.

I am making it sound much more jet setter-y and dramatic than it is.  It was actually the perfect span of time for these 3 locations, and the travel time was not outweighed by the enjoyability, which is easily which a diagnostic symptom of trying to cram too much in in too small of a span of time.

Saturday we flew in to Malaga airport. We flew on the airline that shall not be mentioned. Grrr. We arrived around 1am, grabbed our rental car and headed to the crappy, near the airport motel, we booked just to crash for the night. We woke up, had a leisurely breakfast of this:

Churros con Chocolate

Yeaaaah that is basically fried bread and a melted chocolate bar. That was on the breakfast menu. What was it I didn't like about Spain again? I can't remember. You misunderstood.

Then we drove out to Marbella, and I was poolside with my ginormous copy of Atlas Shrugged, Sangria in hand, bitching about how I had to lug this gigantic book with me even though I had it downloaded in ibook because my iPad is impossible to read outside by 1pm. Anyone who is framiliar with Atlas Shrugged will see how this was a theme. First world problems, I has them. I am going to submit myself to WhiteWhine.comwww.whitewhine.com anyday now. I spent the rest of the day with my girl-friend getting faded on Sangria any other alcohol we could find, while the boys went for a bike ride. Then we stocked up at the grocery store since our rental had a full kitchen. Pro tip: never go to the grocery store drunk or you will end up with nothing but cheese, ice cream and enough booze for a small bomb shelter because you know what goes with a nice bottle of wine? A second bottle of good wine, or maybe a second bottle of not so good wine, who cares at that point?

Back at the hotel we walked down the beach in search of dinner, and ended up at a beach front bar that turned out to old serve booze and pointing to a chilled bottle of something pink at someone's table shouting, "we will have what he is having!"

Pro Tip: never do that in the South of Spain at a ritzy-ish seaside beach bar without asking the price first.

Pro Tip part dos: At least ask the price before you have a second bottle uncorked.

Yeah. Those bottles were 90 euros each. Nope, I have no idea what they tasted like. Who can remember such things when you end your night like this:

The rest of the time in Spain was basically rinse and repeat. Hungover by the pool or drunk looking for more booze. I would recommend this approach to vacation.

The Benefits of The Other Woman

When I was little I would beg my dad to please let me take a friend with us on family vacations. In the absence of siblings growing up, I wanted a companion on my trip who I wouldn't have to force to go swimming with me and would simultaneously roll their eyes with me about another sit down dinner. Anytime I got my way about this growing up, the trips were pure bliss.

As an adult, I am realizing this has not drastically changed. Last year my husband and I delved into the realm of "vacationing couples." We found a couple we travel well with. I formerly thought this was a mythical creature like a unicorn or a jackal-ope (those are not real right? I always forget) but I have found out that it IS possible for there to be another couple where my husband likes the guy and I enjoy the girl.

I have found there are enormous benefits of traveling as a foursome.

Firstly, I do not plan good travel. The whole process of planning and committing is confusing and overwhelming to me, so usually my husband is left to the planning of our trips. I am sure this gets annoying and burdensome to him. With another guy in the mix, the burden is now shared and my guilt is alleviated.

With another like minded female on the trip, I can now feel free to insist on the 45 minute detour to hit up Sephora to hope they have the new Naked II eyeshadow palette (which they did NOT, boo, hiss, stab) because now I am not the only one who wants to go! I am not the only one derailing the trip to do superficial shopping!  Also, we can both escape the eyeshadow debacle without our significant others thinking we are the superficial ones, we can blame each other for the detour in the name of being a good friend.

My husband now has someone to go on bike rides or hikes with and I don't find myself schlepping a backpack up a hill on my vacation while the most schlepping I want to do is of a sangria to my face by a pool.

I also can now wear whatever shoes I want on the trip and stop as frequently as they hurt as long as I coordinate this with the other girl, and I can escape looking good in my heels without looking like a bad traveler. There really is safety in numbers.

Now, the benefit of the couple travel versus just doing a girlfriend trip is that you still can have romantic time with your significant other. You can still have a dinner, stroll or outing by yourselves but the difference is you both get to do what you want to do and still can do what you want to do together. I imagine it is like traveling with a babysitter.

Iberia Airlines: Thanks, but no thanks

What is there to be said about Iberia airlines? Well, a picture is worth a thousand words, so that should cut this post down substantially:

I am all for airlines keeping prices down on tickets, but unless Iberia only plans to sell tickets to double amputees in the future, this lack of legroom is unacceptable. I am 5'2 in heels, I usually enjoy showing off the amount of legroom I am afforded in an airline seat, but on Iberia, not just my 6'2 husband's knees were up by his chest.

The seats built by contortionists for contortionists were not the only form of sadomasochism, but I didn't accept the slop tray they put in front of me so I can't provide you with photographic evidence.

Bottom line, Iberia Airlines is showing the cheapest option for your flight? Don't bother.

Off The Cuff: a PSA

I am imprisoned today by my pants and shoes combination. A self made prison of heels plus cuffed pants. Last time I wore a combination like this I face planted going UP stairs. This outfit is a death trap. Why do I do it to myself? I wonder if anyone else ever has this problem.

The World is MINE

I don't remember the context. It is not important. Last week I told my husband that I can't be sure anything exists unless I am looking at it. This applies to objects, contracts, people, buildings, etc. My perception is my reality, but is it yours? I don't know. This is something I have obsessed   over for some time, but have never put any valid effort into proving, because everything changes as soon as you look at it because it is being looked at right? Trippy? I know. I get this mirror inside of a mirror mind thing going periodically. It drives me nuts. It has a very tentative relationship with the whole obsessive thing that also habitates inside of my head. No, I haven't had it checked out. No, I don't plan on discussing it with a professional, there is not room for more in my head.

Yesterday, my husband who is currently working on his PhD and consuming an inhumane amount of articles daily, told me about one he had read yesterday that just came up and sort of proved my theory on a molecular level. Obviously I am a genius at quantum physics but I never knew. Or did my husband just read this article because I thought it, and I fabricated this entire exchange in my head? Who can ever be really sure?

Recently, in my spare time, when I am not working on applying for an honorary degree in physics or at my day job, I have been doing a little tutoring here in Russia. The pay is great, the discussion group I have been leading once a week has provided me with so many laughs/interesting facts, and let's face it, this blog has been lacking in content lately. I picked up one learner once a week, and agreed to tutoring a 3 year old 2 days a week. The problem is, I only actually like doing things in theory. Actually doing things is really time consuming and exhausting. Especially now that it is getting dark at like 6pm.

Immediately after accepting this twice a week tutor job I wanted an out. I mean come on, I don't even like kids.  However, I was referred by a friend, and didn't want to hear it dissapoint. So I agreed. I have spent the entire morning figuring out ways to build an acme black hole so I could crawl through it and not do the job. My physics knowledge may not be as vass as I previously thought, because this task is eluding me. HOWEVER, my power of telekentics? Spot on. I just got a text saying the kid got the flu and tutoring will need to be rescheduled. I now have an entire week to regret my decision! I willed this to happen with my mind, and I will accept no other explanation. 

Weekly Obsession: Pinterest

Helping a friend plan her wedding is difficult.  Helping a friend plan her wedding from 5665.32 miles away is damn near impossible. Well it would have been impossible prior to Al Gore inventing the internet (insert snicker snicker here). Now there are fabulous sites such as Pinterest that are making this a nearly do-able task.



Pinterest is a database of visual bookmarks. How many times have you been  wasting time  spending a productive day browsing the internet and come across a recipe, or an outfit, or an idea for your apartment, and thought I need to remember this. If you are like me, then you add the link to the bottomless pit that is your bookmark list, never to be remembered or looked at again. Pinterest has been a huge timesaver for me. I don't spend a ton of time re-looking for things that I swear I saw before, or maybe I just had a dream about it? Damn someone should really make that. There is a "Pin It" button that can be installed on your web browser and then while browsing the internet, when you come across that tattooed-stuffed-merman that you absolutely have to remember for a gag list, you can pin-it, put it on your "things that make you go ha-ha" board (not a standard board, one I renamed myself...you can copy) and you can later see it all in one place.

As maybe you have gleened by now, I am not an organized person. I know, I know, shocking. So for me, Pinterest has been helpful when I am looking to help my friend plan her wedding. We have an 8 hour time difference between us, so when I am doing the majority of my online browsing, she is asleep, and vice versa-- but now I can do all of the browsing I want, label things as potential bouquets, bridesmaid dresses, grooms outfits, Pin them, and she can view them all in one place (rather than waking up to 10 disconjointed email streams of thought that can be easily misfiled or deleted) she can also comment on them, pick what she likes, and repin them to her board. This has been a helpful communication tool for us. There are so many uses for Pinterest, that I know the potential has barely been tapped. Are you going to begin pinning?

The Perils of Gluten: Weekly Obsession

Well, I really had planned on having another post before it came around for Friday Obsession again, but I just got lazy. Hopefully I will be posting a tutorial on hanging pictures, expat decorating, and/or another letter to my (still) unadopted child. I have been really busy lately you guys. Mainly I have been moving apartments, online shopping, and deciding if I am more excited to see my friends, eat at real restaurants with free water refills, or shop during my upcoming trip home to Tampa. Also I have been maid-of-honor-ing for my oldest friend in Florida, and I take my duties of online dress, jewelery, venue, photographer, DJ, baker, and florist shopping seriously. So enough excuses, my point is: don't get too excited. No peeing of the pants necessary.

One of my latest obsessions lately has been the perils of Gluten. Give a man a loaf of bread and he eats for a day, give me a loaf of bread and you'll get a lifetime lecture on the perils of Gluten. That was a recent facebook status from my husband. I've been breaking out a little on my face. I am 29, I never thought battling acne and fine lines would coincide. We are talking civil war here you guys. Since I was a teenager, the acne has been an issue, with brief bouts of relief and hope in between. I was on antibiotics and creams for year. I never tried accutane, because my acne issues were never that serious from a medical standpoint, just from an uhhhhhh my god why is this shit still on my face standpoint. About a year ago when my obsession over this issue kicked in I found out about a drug called Spirnolactone and asked my dermatologist for a script. He obliged me, and it was like a magic cure...for a time. Then I got some melasma on my face and found out that was a commong side effect of this drug. Great, robbing Peter to pay Paul. Deciding between two evils. I wish I had the lucury of being low maintenance. I also wish I could get my blogger our of what ever language it is set on to that does not allow my spell check to work properly. Such is life. So I stopped taking the Spirnolactone, had a mild breakout, and took to the web with my grabby hands for a new solution. Enter the great Gluten debate. I came across this solution quite accidently while reading one of the foodie websites that I regularly check in with, Bon Apetit. I read about a chef in NYC who opened her own business catering to dietary specifications and treating food like medicine. One of the things she mentioned in the article was that for her clients who suffer from acne, she puts them on a wheat free diet. I did some further digging, research, and googling on this topic, and found a lot of evidence to support what I wanted it to support, that adult acne can in fact be cured. I found that Gluten causes a myriad of issues for people who are insensitive, intolerant or allergic.



I researched all food containing gluten. This website was very helpful. And I set off on my pasta, bread and soy-sauce free way. Sure there are pastas and breads and soy sauces that do not contain gluten, but I live in Russia and can not read all most labels, so like I said, off I went. Because we do not eat at restaurants frequently, it has not been that difficult. It has been 3 weeks now and I feel better and my skin has mostly seemed to clear up. I can't be sure yet if the two are related, but my obsession is sure, for now, until it is not.



Weekly Obsession: Travel Shadow Boxes

Travel Shadow Boxes

When we moved to Moscow,  I packed like I was off to Girl Scout Camp. I am surprised I didn't find a box of thin mints and a green baret in my shipment. I don't know if I thought we were moving in to a tent, but I did not pack any of my wall decorations, or personalized decorations. Just the basics, you know like three closets worth of clothes and shoes, a lifetime supply of tampons, and 3 industrial sized jars of peanutbutter. No room for framed pictures, dishes, or plates, but sure lets have a mini cosco in our back room. Excellent work, ROBIN. So I have been insanely jealous of every home-y apartment I enter here in a quest since we moved in to get some personalized art on our walls so we can stop living in a bare walled white assylum while paying homage to a hideous striped couch.  I did manage to take some things to a frame shop last week, I should probably make that a post all by itself. I think I will, so moving on...I came across THIS:

while I was working sifting trough the web for some design ideas. Holy hell. New obsession. I need to make these immediately. Click here for more indepth pictures. Anyone who travels needs to do these. How amazing. I am slightly dissapointed because it would be much better going in to a trip with this idea so you can make sure to collect all of those little trinkets. I used to do that. However, in an effort to fight my lazy packrat nature, I have stopped filling my pockets with stuff because I thought to myself, really, why are you saving this hotel key, what are you going to do with it? Become a hoarder? Is that what you want to do? There are easier ways to get on TV. I do not want to end up living in a one bedroom apartment surrounded by 47 cats, a ferret, and fesces. I just will not have it. I won't allow this to happen to anyone I know, so you are welcome in advance. As long as I have a use for the stuff though, I will be more than happy to save boarding passes, keys, money, gum wrappers, used napkins and what not to make personalized art. My favorite thing about these frames is they give me justifaction for packrat tendancies I love so many of my photos when I come back from a trip, but it would be monotonous to frame and display 10+ photos from the same week/destination, and this project really offers a solution for that. What else are you going to do with all of those sunset pictures? Your friends do not care. They do not want to see them again. Trust me.

This is my best take at the project so far:

Don't be too jealous. I wasted a lot of time on this, because now I will have to scour my apartment (which we are in the process of packing up and moving) and any purse and the pockets of any pair of pants that went with me on the trip for memorabilia in order to bring my vision to life. Or I will have to find suitable stand ins because OH I AM MAKING THIS HAPPEN.

I used Photoshop CS5 to do the letter cut outs. It was quite easy, but tedious. Click Here for a great tutorial on how to do cut out letters. I used one picture per letter, saved each one as a separate JPG, and then placed them in Adobe inDesign CS5 to make the poster. My next steps (after the scouring and possible fraud) are to find some shallow shadow box frames here (you know because it's not like I live in Russia where it is impossible to find normal items), then depending on what size the frames are, I will resize my inDesign graphic, and assemble. It will only take me like a year month.

Will you be single-white(no disrespect)-female-ing this project? I am not worried, it's not like I actually thought of it.

I Don't Believe in Moderation: Weekly Obsession

It isn't that I don't believe in the existence of moderation. I know it exists. I have seen other people exercise an average amount of time on a regular basis, I have noticed people who eat normally, and you know, I even once new a girl who never listened to the same song 46 times in one day on her iPod. The problem is, that girl is not me. I live in the over/under doing it phase. I notice, become interested, become obsessed, proselytize, grow disillusioned, burn out, and retreat. To not interupt inertia, I chase and jump on another bandwagon. It is not that I am easily influenced. I am not. I do not jump on fads or trends, or even upcoming ones. Often, I become obsessed with very obscure things, get so excited my head explodes and in an effort to spread the wealth (and avoid having my head explode) I sell the obsession to my friends, family, coworkers, and strangers on the subway. Now, I am going to begin sharing my obsessions weekly with you. Fridays I will start posting what I am currently most obsessed with. At least I plan to, afterall that is a high expecation and the chances of me sticking with it and not growing bored are high, so go ahead, brace yourself to the obsession storm, and know that this too may very well pass.

Silent Treatment

Isn't the silent treatment the worst? It has always been the worst form of punishment in my book, the most torturous, inhumane form. The anxiety train that docks in my head revs up its' engine and excelerates to maximum speed when the silent treatment is administered to me. That is why I am especially ashamed at myself for administering this sort of treatment to my blog. There was no cause for this other than general apathy and major boredom on my own part. I have been bored, and yeah yeah yeah, only boring people get bored, but I did not want to inflict this level of boredom and lack of inspiration on my blog, so I have been hiding out on my couch and various other uninteresting places. But I will get back at it soon hopefully. In the mean time, anyone interested can celebrate my new level of lack of famousness by watching this video of a silly interview I did on Russia Today (scroll about 6 minutes in, the below mentioned Jeff is also featured).

Also this was sort of scripted hence my above-normal level of awkwardness and over enthusiasm.



From Homeless to Fabulous /or Never Going Back

JEFF

Yea, I don't forgive you Winter, look what the fuck you did to my nose. 

 

 

 

 

 

So when Mom adopted me from Lost Angels Animal Rescue, 6 years ago (42 for my dog readers) she totally made an ass out of me. She picked me up and immediately put me in this stupid muscle-man costume and took photographs.I don't even know why she had this costume with her or how she passed the adoption screening. She probably lied to them like she lied to me. She lied to me and said I would never find myself in someplace as horrible as the pound again. False story.

Right after meeting my Mother she took me home to live in her condo with her roomate, the idiot from hell. I am not sure how this girl even figured out breathing. I think sometimes I caught her taking a few steps, stopping, and then huffing and puffing because she couldn't do both at the same time.See, Mom was working at Hooters (she said it was some sort of fine dining establishment) at the time and that's where she picked up that miscreant. I knew from the moment that girl baby-talked at me things weren't going to end well. I spent my days mostly avoiding everyone by living underneath my mom's or Becky's*  bed. It isn't my fault that Becky kept her used bras and panties under the bed and that I happen to be a connoisseur. That is the one thing I am sort of guilty of. Taking the panties and relocating them. Other things of which I have been accused have no bearing in truth. I got caught under Becky's bed during some embarrassing times. When her boyfriend, Jay-Jay-The-Gangsta came over (Ma says she will tell you more about him another time), that was always a particular treat for me. Hey, I am not pervert, but at what time is a good time to slink away and not look guilty, embarrassed, or add the the awkwardness that everyone should be feeling in that situation? You tell me if you figure it out, ok? So things took a turn for the worse. This Becky was 6 feet of legs, it is of no surprise she was a clutz and had no room for a brain. When she knocked the door of the Dishwasher off the hinges? She claimed "Chewey" she had been hanging out in the kitchen a lot. Oh yeah, that was another thing, she decided my name was Chewey.  Oh yeah, I am 10 pounds, so even if I had a running start from the next room ...that dishwasher...I couldn't-- oh forget it I have pleaded my case on this one enough. When CapriSun appeared all over the walls of the living room with no obvious reason? Chewey is always getting in to my stuff. When the glass door of her shower was found shattered? Chewey hangs out in my bathroom a lot, I don;t know what he does in there. Yeah. All of her stories were very believable. If I was capable of this sort of destruction, I would have a much firmer grasp on the direction of my own life and wouldn't waste this talent on stupid small appliances. Mom saw through her stories eventually and told her we were not renewing our portion of the leash. Numnuts donned her best bewildered look and asked well what was going to happen with Chewey then? Where was he going to live?


Really?

Notice my humiliation. I didn't pick this outfit.

We were out of there. I was actually proud of Mom for finally moving in the right direction. It looked like she was making good on the promise she made me about getting out of the pound lifestyle.

Wait a minute. We are going to live with who? My future Step-Dad? Yeah, he's alright. I am a little sick of him always "trying to make a man of me" but overall, I don't see him blaming me for shit I am not even capable of, and I don't think he even knows Jay-Jay, so things are looking ok....but does he still have that giant living with him?

You're kidding, I have to live with this?

But I adapted, because after all that is what we pound puppies do. I life wasn't so bad. I even accepted that giant tree sloth as my Sister/Lover. And just as I was getting comfortable, mom sprung another one on me.

 

Then, what do you know? Downhill again. We are moving where now? Russia? Ha ha? Do they have my special Chow there? You know I am allergic to Beef. 

So as I realized again that I have very little control over my life, we moved to Moscow. Since moving here, I discovered we now have a platform bed, so my favorite spot has been eliminated, I have been chased by Ferrel street  dogs, told by the grumpy maintenance man that I can not pee on the grass, told by our first housekeeper that I needed to wear a muzzle, and then ended up with a condition called "snow nose". But really, and don't tell mom because I will loose my manipulation bargaining chip, it hasn't been so bad here. On the upsides, The Big Beast Abby hates it here worse than me, and our new housekeeper is teaching my Fillipino. Also Pigeons>Squirrels.

I am a dirty pig. I taught Abby a cool trick, it's called "Sit and be molested"

Not Without My Parka: The Robin Smith Story

Dear Winter,

I am just going to come right out with it. I am sorry for all of the awful, mean, hurtful things I said to and about you. Sure, it might seem unforgivable that I had eyes for your worst enemy, but please remember that Summer and I go way back. I know I said I hated your fucking guts and how you refused to let me wear half of the clothes in my closet and really had a big say in what shoes were appropriate. I understand now you weren't trying to be controlling, you were just looking out for my best interests. Sure things with Summer started out great. Summer didn't care what I wore, or where I went, I really felt like Summer opened up a lot of opportunities for me. We spent long steamy evenings on patio bars together. I won't say that wasn't special. But now I really do think it is time we go in different directions. Things have just gotten too hot if you can imagine. I can't promise things between you and I will always be perfect. I won't tell you that a few months in when I am stuck in my dark apartment at 4pm I won't complain but I will say, Winter, I am ready to give it another shot, if you'll have me back. 

xoxo,

Sweating-my-ass off Mcgee




P.S. I am also very concerned about the doggy-style woman on man rape that appears to be going down in this fountain. I have so many questions. Why is no one helping this poor man? How is he restraining himself from slapping her because it is just too damn hot for that nonsense?

An Open Letter to My Still Unadopted Ethiopian Child

Dear Marvin "Click-Click" :

How are you? I am well. I am going to get straight to the point here. I know you appreciate directness, otherwise why would you be starring in all of those TV commercials? I mean, I suppose the money may be good, but they have bad time slots so I can't imagine you are really raking it in over there. Anyway, so as you have probably already guessed, I will not be adopting you this month. You see, we just spent a month in the South of France, so adopting you doesn't seem like it would be a responsible decision on my part at the moment. And you know what they say, the only thing worse than no mother is an irresponsible one. Have you ever heard of that saying? I may have just made it up, but it really resonates with me.

Also, on your commercial I saw that I also have the option of sending you like 10 bucks a month and that you could eat on that for the month. But here is the thing, I don't know if anyone is going to send money to your friends and I know how important relationships are, trust me, I have had not much luck in the friend department since moving to Russia, and I wouldn't want your friends to get jealous of you eating whatever it is you eat in front of them and not want to hang with you anymore, because let's be honest here, your life already doesn't sound like a bowl of cherries. Marvin, have you ever had cherries? Very good fruit. If we ever work this thing out I'll let you try them. Who am I kidding? That is not really the reason I couldn't send you the 10 bucks. One reason is I couldn't stand the idea of my dogs not going to France with us, and it is no cheap endeavor flying two dogs around Europe. Do you have any pets? If you do, then you are really lucky you don't ever really go anywhere and don't have to deal with the dilemma of what to do with them. Sometimes, Marvin, I really envy you.

Here is Abby on the plane. She is especially a pain in the ass, as she eats about 10KG of food (at LEAST a month) that is probably way more than you, Click, and I really wish we could swap you guys out.

This is Jeff, he really hates kids, another hurdle for you. 

While we were in France, a friend of ours stayed in our apartment, and drank almost all of our Illy Espresso. That is about $35 a can. She didn't replace it or mention it and I am really peeved. I am in an awkward spot because I'm not sure if I should say something or not.  What would you do in this situation? See what I mean? You don't have any stuff so you don't have to worry about these barriers or awkward moments in your friendships. You lucky devil you.

So another thing about your 10 bucks, the food and wine in France was really incredible. We had muscles by the shore almost every night, because it isn't like we can just order up a bowl of fresh muscles in Moscow, you know? They'd be gross, totally not fresh. I am sure you know how gross out of season not fresh food can be.

Here are some pictures so you can see what I am talking about:

of course I was thinking about you when I was drinking this

Was for sure thinking about you during this meal because we couldn't finish it all and I thought, hey Marvin Click Click would love this but it was a holiday in France and the post office was closed sooo...

I am glad I took these pictures so you don't think I am making it up, Click, I really would feel bad if I thought you thought poorly of me. We don't all have your willpower when it comes to food. I know you said in your last letter you went 2 weeks without eating, and if I had that willpower, wow, where would I be? You know?

If you had the option of staying in Ethiopia or spending a month in Toulon, France -- what would you choose? Now you see where I am coming from. No brainer right. I have said it before and I will say it again, I hope you realize how lucky you are for not having to make these important decisions.

Here are some more pictures to help you understand why France was the best decision for all of us:

Another thing dude, sunscreen in Europe? Really expensive (and not even that good in my opinion) and that is another reason you are lucky, with your dark tan you don't really need to worry about sunscreen. Yeah, I already put that under the pro's list about adopting you, don't worry.

Ok well I have to go, my housekeeper is finally leaving so I don't have to awkwardly pretend to be doing something important anymore.

Keep your fingers crossed about next month, but also keep your options open, if you find a better prospect, I won't be offended. I still see your commercials on TV you sly little devil.

Later Gator,

Robin

The Goat Might Eat the Cabbage

Packing for our summer trip to France is like the riddle about getting the goat, cabbage, and tiger across the river in your canoe without losing any of them.

These items all need to make it to France with us:


An abnormally large dog to support our pity addiction,



This adorable nugget to support my love of all things adorable addiction,





An abnormally large bike case to support my Husband's cycling addiction,

 Also traveling with us will be a suitcase most likely toe-ing the line of allowable weight due to my over packing and hair appliance addiction.

To say the airport system in Moscow to inconsistent would be a gross understatement. We are traveling on a russian airline, Aeroflot, and a Polish airline, LOT. I have made flash cards and studied their baggage policies (highlighting and doing suicide drills over the special item and pet section), called numerous times, written notes in English and in Russian, and still I am worried about being turned away at the airport. This is not unrealistic anxiety on my part, it is a real concern. The printed information on their websites will mean nothing in the face of an airline employee who just feels like "no" or "give me more money" is an appropriate response of the day.