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Posts Tagged ‘my precious home’

[from some corner-of-the-eye TV snippet] – that sometime around 1960 Whites comprised 88% of US population. In 1990 the figure was 80%. In 2010 – 72%.

Projected for 2060 – 47%.

The woman who came up with that last figure, delivered her piece with visible delight. I thought: “how do you call a White counterpart to an Uncle Tom?”

And “if I wanted to live in a Third World country, I might have saved myself all that trouble and just stayed in miserable Russia”.

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Just saw a rather unusual cat walking thru backyards of three rowhouses. Fat, compact, with squarish head and bushy striped tail. Very relaxed, not like normal urban cats – as if it knows no danger. Ran to take my cell from the charger for a snapshot, but the cat disappeared thru a crooked plank in a white picket fence…Am I still dreaming?

 

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On mine – among other things – is Duck Roasted with Fruit, Persimmon Garnish and Braised Red Cabbage. Not yet plated (still 5 hrs before the feast), but ready.

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is the place I want to be:

That will be a new hat with funny fluffy top – a complement to a snood. I used circular needles – and only remembered why (so there is no seam) when I finished. Oh, well.

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Бенсонхёрст – чУдное, чУдное место.

Узнавши о русском супермаркете NetCost, и что ближайший – на 18 аве в Б., решила затовариться гречкой и квашеной капустой.
Автобус одолел 12 кварталов за 35 минут; наконец добрались. Сначала почапала не в том направлении: вокруг китайские буфеты-ешь-не-хочу, всяческие «восточно-океанские похороны» и «счастливые ногти», плюс Соломон-ножИ-точим, ресторан Гора Олимп, ёлочный базар возле здания Рыцарей Колумба. Не, думаю, куда-то меня не в русскую сторону занесло, надо поворачивать обратно. И тут наткнунась на такое заведение…даже не знаю как назвать. Птицу, короче, продают: живую, в клетках, и кудахтает. Цесарки с фазанами, куры-хохлатки, утки разные – пух и перья по ветру. И очередь из серьёзных китайцев. А я – дальше. Мимо эстакады с Д-поездами, угловой бодеги, музыкальной забегаловки (пахнет точно как в муз.школе моего детства) – чу! (это мы с Тургеневым) чу!тут русский дух. В смысле – православное заведение, с ликом горемычного еврейского изгоя над крыльцом и плошкой на цепочках. Минуем, ешё пара автогаражей с ремонтниками – и вот он, родимый. Таки да, большой. И гречки завались, сортов 10. И конфет со шпротами от пуза. Главное – капустка. Публика денюшку маниграмом отправляет. Американцы катят полные телеги добра. И даже продавщицы не хамят! В обшем, рекомендую.
Рождественская экзотика!

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Achchhh-uuuu

On the other hand – you gotta forgive me, my brain doing its best, under the circs – which is: I am sick. Banal cold, first in season, and at the worst possible time (naturally).

Last week I returned home after trip to Vancouver. 6hrs on the plane (Manila-Vanc.-NY)->1/2hr Customs->1/2hr baggage->1/2hr Airtrain->1/2hr wait-1/2hr LIRR train->1/2hr subway. You know, conveniences of modern travel. Got home close to midnight, dropped bags and fell into bed. Woke up feeling funny; by Sunday morning had obstructed throat, blown sinuses and teary eyes.

And it lasted whole week. Right when I got back to 59 emails just from one client, +some from another, no crisis thanksgod, just normal end-of-year madness. And here I am: heavy lead behind my eyebrows, not a single constructive thought, just working down a box of Kleenex.

Astonished that with all this stupidity on display I actually got a year bonus in my paycheck! Although have no energy to spend it: today have been eating and sleeping non-stop. No gym: feel beaten up as if I already went, as it is. So – sorry for lack of interest here lately. I’m now going for second box of tissues, and a load of Swedish crime books…

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over my house. It hangs in the sky, its white and red lights almost on top of the building’s roof, and is so loud, it dampened the TV even through closed double-paned windows.

Lights sprang on at the neighbors’ backyards, windows cracked open. My phone’s camera failed to capture him properly.

While I was writing, it slowly went away.

I was reminded of our first night in America, almost 26 years ago: there were 3 copters above the street of our first rental apartment, following some police action.

What is going on now?

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