Isn't it amazing that a family from Texas is using my dad's French Canadian recipe for crepes every Sunday in Moscow? Biscuits are overnighting in my great-grandmother's Bauer bowl. We'll see who has the last word tomorrow, me or the tart crust recipe I'm using for pastry crust for apple pie. It's nice how I needed two egg yolks for the tart crust and then egg whites for the royal frosting--which I am still not over--for the gingerbread houses. But why does my royal frosting keep tasting like soap? Did I buy the sugar in Africa?
For two years, in San Francisco, I proudly carried a purse that I found in the trash. And I got compliments on it.
I have begun to slowly venture out in the car. We made a trip to our farmer's market and grocery store and yesterday I took our friend Aleen to a frame shop and another grocery store. It was nice since it was kind of rainy and I got a chance to check out the new GPS.
Normally I walk to the closest grocery, Ramstore, because it has everything we need, you know, bread, yogurt, bananas, caviar-flavored potato chips.
Walking to the cento historico part of Lisbon today, Stefan announces he can count in Portuguese: onze, douze, thirteen-say, fourteen-say, fifteen-say...I think after Russian we all have this bizarre sense of being able to speak the language. If scuzi, isn't polite enough, how about, pardon? Limondada? Rosa? Grande? Beeg? Okay!
After touring like rock stars yesterday and going no where but the hotel bar and falling in love with boots at the mall, today we ventured to the old part of a very old town.
We saw a glove store that's been around a couple hundred years.
(That's Stefan wanting desperately to not go in.)
Then we went to a candle store that's been around since 1789.