Pancakes/Diary of a New American

Grumpy

2009-04-26T13:25:00.000-07:00

No matter what they say about social networking sites being too impersonal and taking away the “real” communication, I find out a great deal about my friends and acquaintances through their Facebook or Twitter status updates. In some cases, much more than I ever knew, and quite frequently, more than I want to know.

If it is raining outside I can pretty much predict which of my 150 Facebook friends will express their displeasure. If it is sunny outside, it is also not difficult to guess who will write grumpy messages about “how much it sucks” to be at school/work/being sick/having stuff to do/and so on, when it is "so gorgeous outside".

To be quite frank, I catch myself grumping as well (even though I am trying not to). I have definitely improved, but if you knew me 5 years ago, you would not like me at all.

When five plus years ago I moved to the United States, I hated it here. I was complaining about the food, the mentality, the fashion, the necessity to drive everywhere, fake smiles, small talk, the language… To give myself a credit, it was not easy, because within a few months my life changed completely. I left my wild life in the dorm, my numerous friends, my family, my culture, my university, my language. I always lived in relatively big cities, so moving to a town the size of a sneeze was quite an experience. I didn’t drive, I barely had any people to talk to. My husband was at work and I spent most of my days pitying myself and writing heartbreaking poems in my journal. Then we got pregnant and even though it was something we both really wanted, the crazy hormones didn’t help my crankiness.

Poor hubby had to put up with all these and now looking back I admire him for his patience, love and grace. Time passed and physically I am still at the same place. I do drive, but everything else is still the same: town size of a sneeze, lack of interaction with friends, house in a suburb, fake smiles and fake food. However, something else is different. My mood. My spirit. I feel incredibly blessed having (and not having) everything that was making me mad 5 years ago. I am in a happy and a peaceful place. I am happier than I have ever been.

I knew from the beginning that it was God’s plan for me to move to this country. But I didn’t trust Him enough. I didn’t accept the challenges as gifts. I preferred to grump.

When we are grumpy, this is disrespectful to God. When we complain, we doubt Him and, whether willingly or unwillingly, disapprove that whatever happens in our lives happens for a reason. A reason that might make sense only to God, but the reason that He and only He came up with.

Every single circumstance and obstacle we face is because God either created it or allowed it to happen. One or the other, it was done “to prosper you and not to harm you, …to give you hope and a future.” God said it in Jeremiah 29:11. He never gave promises he didn’t keep, so why do we keep doubting?

Being positive is not about psychological affirmations or power of positive thinking. (Even though I really like the Indian proverb about a man who was complaining for not having shoes until he met a men who didn’t have feet.)

Being positive means trusting God and thanking Him for taking care of you. It means worshiping God during hard (or what you think are hard) circumstances; after them and before them. Studying scriptures with God’s promises is helpful as well, but worshiping is really the key. If you praise and worship the Lord with all your heart, you should have no doubts that He is greater than this world, greater than these circumstances, greater than you. You may think you know what you need in this life and when you need it, but it is God (and not you) who really knows it. He is faithful. He knows what He is doing.

Complaining about your broken microwave, about “crappy” weather, an irresponsible friend, naughty kid, sick cat, and your life in general means diminishing God and His works. Everything happens for a reason.

When I look back and reread my journals it was a sequence of small and seemingly irrelevant events which led me to where I am right now. A failed test, small quarrel, a random acquaintance, slow internet connection… Was I complaining about these things? You bet. Would I end up in the United States and meet the love of my life without them? No, I would not.

Complaining is harmful. It is the evidence of unbelief. It is important for us Christians to guard the words of our mouths.

PHIL.2:14-15

In everything you do, stay away from complaining and arguing, so that no one can speak a word of blame against you. You are to live clean, innocent lives as children of God in a dark world full of crooked and perverse people. Let your lives shine brightly before them. Hold tightly to the word of life, so that when Christ returns, I will be proud that I did not lose the race and that my work was not useless.

My Confession or ...But the Seventh Day is a Sabbath of the LORD

2009-03-29T16:26:00.000-07:00

My dear readers,

Originally I was just going to write about how busy I have been lately and how overwhelmed I feel trying to combine motherhood, "wifehood", school and now work. For the last month and a half I haven't relaxed with a good book, haven't watched a movie and haven't slept for more than 5 hours straight.

To be honest I didn't mind being busy and productive. I love what I do and I enjoy going to sleep knowing that I accomplished a lot. However, today I realized that rest was not the only thing I've been missing.

This morning at church our pastor was talking about fear of the Lord. When he started, my husband smiled and looked at me, because fear of the Lord is one of few things we don't quite agree on. The Russian Orthodox church influenced my beliefs quite a bit and I always thought that in order to be obedient we should be afraid of God; afraid to sin and mess up. It worked for me in the past and I have a hard time adjusting to a new concept that God will forgive me no matter how bad I screw up. I know He will, but I personally need to fear God. Otherwise, I relax and don't listen to Him as much as I should.

Actually, during today's service I realized that I haven't been listening to Him at all for the last 6 weeks. Why? I was too busy. I did pray every night before going to bed, but it was more of a monologue of how thankful I am for the day and how desperate I am for God to protect my family. I didn't ask Him for directions or for plans He had for me. And I didn't listen to Him.

Today when our pastor was talking about the fear of the Lord and disobedience, God spoke to me. This was not the first time He tried doing this, but previously I didn't want to listen. Actually, I didn't want to listen this time, because what He was asking me to do was very inconvenient. He asked me to devote the 7th day to Him. Imagine that!

But God, - I tried arguing. - I have 3 major projects at school and 30+ articles to write for my blogs and websites and I have only a month to accomplish all of these. And remember, I have a house, a husband and two wild little children to take care of.

God didn't reply to me directly, but while I was still trying to prove my point to Him, our pastor started giving us vivid examples of how people find excuses to disobey God and ignore God's voice. It was so timely, that it gave me chills.

I got really afraid, so I said:

-OK, I promise that I will take a Sunday off. I made a mental note that I'll just work harder during the week But I will start next Sunday, because I already planned to write a beat-report for my Journalism class today and write 3 articles for the Ezine article directory.

At this very moment the pastor gave an example on how he got stuck in traffic, because he didn't listen to God's voice.

"Even in small things we need to listen to Him," - he said.

And then it finally hit me. I realized how awful my attitude was and how prideful I became. I was arguing with God?!!!?!!!!!????????? I don't know if it was due to the lack of sleep lately, but somehow I started thinking that I knew better than Him. I somehow forgot that only He, my loving Father, knows what is the best for me. I was not fearing Him lately, I was not listening to Him. This revelation shocked me so much that I wanted to slap myself in the face.

Dear Father, please forgive me my pride, my cockiness and my disobedience. Help me not to get deceived again and help me listen when You speak to me. I know I shouldn't worry, because you said so. I know You will guide me and You will provide. All I need to do is listen. And obey.

PS. It is 9.15 pm here, Sunday. I didn't work, I didn't study(It was hard and I realized that I was very addicted to being busy). Today I just went to church, I made a nice dinner for my family, spent time with them and I wrote this post.

I realize that I shouldn't devote only Sundays to God. I should devote every day of my life to Him and try to glorify Him in everything I do.

How do you, my Christian brothers and sisters do it? What are your tips on how not to get distracted by the world and focus on the Lord? I need some advice.

Image via Wikipedia

Kreative Blogger Award

2009-03-12T10:39:00.001-07:00

Whoa! I've bee nominated for Kreative Blogger Award by these wonderful people at Club Coupon Blog Page http://clubcoupon.blogspot.com/

I am flattered and honored. :-) Now I am supposed to:

1. Write 7 things that I love.
2. Nominate 7 other blogs for this award.

So here you go. I LOVE:

1. God and my relationship with Him. He is too good to me.
2. My wonderful husband
3. My naughty, but incredibly sweet children
4. My family who are overseas
5. Writing
6. Reading
7. Being home with my family

Blogs I recommend. (Screw the rules. I recommend more than 7.)

1. Little People Wealth
2. Suburb Sanity
3. 2nd Cup of Coffee
4. Has Anyone Seen My Cape?
5. The Inept Aspirant

6.Becoming Me
7. The Only Thing Worth Walking
Toward
8.Rocking Chair Reflections
9. Rumblings of One Stuck in the Middle of Inbetween
10. Just a Southern Girl
11. Where laughter Lives: the Riggs Family
12. Club Coupon Blog Page
13. Living My Life Outside the Box
14. The Page is Set the Ink Is Wet
15. A View From the Mountaintop
16. FawnDear

Congratulations!!!

Bloggers, I have a Technical Question

2009-03-01T19:33:00.000-08:00

Hello technology gurus,

I have no idea what happened to my blog settings, but for some reason I don't see myself as a follower on the blogs I follow. I didn't delete anything and I still see everything on the dashboard.

Can somebody help me with this?

I did have a terrible flu for 10 days and my brains were melting, so maybe I did something stupid and just don't remember.

I don't even know where to look and what to change.

Any thoughts?

OK, NEVER MIND, I FIGURED IT OUT!;-)

It Is Almost Women’s Day

2009-03-01T10:40:00.000-08:00

I don’t know who came up with the idea that spring should start on March 21st. To me, spring starts today. March 1st. And one of the coolest Russian holidays, Women’s Day, is only a week away.

March 8th is probably the most important holiday as far as women are concerned. On this day men of all ages are basically supposed to worship women (not that they shouldn’t do it everyday). They shower women with compliments, gifts and flowers. They take women out for dinner and worship their unimpeachable beauty.

March 8th is an official day off, but it is common to have corporate parties dedicated to women a day before.

Ah, it is a beautiful day. I told you before that Russians are not as friendly as Americans and they wouldn’t smile to you on the street. On March 8th everything is possible. Even the most shy and unsociable men often say “Happy 8th of March” or something like that (in Russian, of course) to women they don’t know.

This holiday brings me so many memories and just like pretty much every holiday, it brings me sadness. I miss my family who are thousands kilometers away; I miss my friends who celebrate these holidays without me now. I miss compliments, cards and flowers (even though I don’t like flowers). I miss spirit of the holiday in the air and I feel that every Russian holiday that I don’t celebrate takes away my cultural identity.

I am not fussy and not very high-maintenance, but holidays are tough for me. And you know what my American hubby does? He forgets about them.

I mean I can understand that Russian holidays don’t mean anything for him; and he has a hundred of other things on his mind. He is a great guy and I know he loves me, but for some reason he refuses to remember this day. (and yes, I hint for months in advance)

This and some other cultural differences inspired me to create another blog, called Russian Wife. I just started it and it doesn’t have many posts yet, but I am getting there. The idea is to help guys who are either looking for a Russian wife or are married to one, overcome problems associated with cultural differences. I don’t mind sharing our personal stories with people as far as it will help them. My husband agrees.

This post(link) was supposed to be about Russian holidays in general, but I couldn’t help myself and wrote mostly about the 8th of March. Sigh.

I guess I should just suck it up and buy flowers and a gift myself, because I have a strange feeling that this year’s Women’s day will be forgotten as well.

Sorry if I sounded too grumpy. When I sat down to write this I just wanted to wish Happy 8th of March to all the ladies who read my blog, and to suggest that every guy who reads this does something special for their women on March 8th. Because firstly, this holiday is actually called “INTERNATIONAL Women’s Day”, and secondly, don’t you think your women deserves this?

First Date and Cultural Differences

2009-02-07T11:25:00.000-08:00

Since Christmas, desperate retailers have been promoting Valentine’s Day by displaying cheesy decorations, selling heart-shaped boxes of chocolates and red bears, and playing love songs.

I don’t know if it was them or the spirit of love in the air, but I became very sentimental and started reminiscing about the time my husband (fiancé at the time) and I were dating.

Well, to be exact I was the only one who was dating, because Hubby was “courting” (until today I thought it was spelled “cording”). He kept correcting me if I used the word “dating”, but I didn’t argue. Firstly, because I wasn’t really sure what it meant. Secondly, because I was in the vegetable stage of love when it didn’t matter what he said as far as he was with me.

For our first date Hubby took me to an overly-priced Irish restaurant on the boardwalk. “Shennanigans”, or something like that. At that time I knew that he was the man God wanted me to marry, but nevertheless (or that’s why) I felt really uncomfortable.

Why?

Firstly, it was out first date.

Secondly, my eating manners were not the best (I ate everything with a fork in the right hand; put my elbows on the table and didn’t know the proper way of using the napkin. I am still like that.)

Thirdly, I was freaked out that I would have to pay for dinner. I knew that it was not uncommon in American culture for the woman to pay for herself, but I would have rather died that spend 40 bucks for one meal. Besides, I didn’t have any money on me (10$ the most). I hadn’t been in the country for very long, so I didn’t have a credit card or debit card. A checkbook was all I had, but it didn’t help, because nobody ever showed me how to use it.

So here we were, in overly-priced Shennanigans, staring at each other and at the pictures I brought.

The waitress kept coming back to take our orders, but we took our time. Hubby was probably trying to be polite and didn’t want to order before the lady. For the reasons above, the lady didn’t want to order anything other than water. Besides, she didn’t know how to pronounce half of the things on the menu and neither did she knew what they meant.

- You need to order, because the kitchen will be closing soon, - the annoyed waitress finally said and forced a smile.

Hubby-to-be glanced at the menu and said something which sounded like “ blah-blah-blah-blah –steak blah. Oh and blah-blah, please.” (Remember, my English was not the best then)

- I’ll have the same, - I said. I figured I could fake my manners by repeating everything my date did.
- How do you want it done?- the waitress asked.
- ???
- Rare, medium or well-done?

Of course I want it to be done well. Why would you ask me that? Who wants a $20 steak to be done poorly.

- Medium, - came out of my mouth. It is always safe to go with medium, but I still wanted it to be done well.

When the waitress finally brought our plates, I experienced one of the biggest shocks in my life.

What the heck is that???? You can feed the Russian Army with this portion!

To be honest, I was offended. Screw the manners, how I am supposed to eat all that? I looked at Hubby-to-be and he seemed peaceful and not offended at all.

Well, for those who don’t know, let me explain. In my culture when somebody prepares a meal for you, you have to finish it. If you don’t, it is disrespectful. I don’t think it applies to restaurants, but just to be sure, I didn’t want to offend my hubby-to-be, or the waitress, or the cook for that matter. But for the love of all creations of earth, it is impossible for a human to eat this Everest mountain of potatoes and the piece of meat which was bigger than my head (my head is pretty big!)!

God is my witness, I tried. I did everything humanly possible to stuff almost half of the meat (big challenge!) and one third of potatoes. I was concentrating so hard on eating it, that I completely forgot to watch which utensils my date was using, so I could use the same ones.

I felt so sick, that I didn’t even care anymore if I would have to pay for it or not. Hardly breathing I said:

- It was very tasty, but I can’t eat any more.

- Would you like a box to take it along? - Hubby-to-be asked.

WHAT???!!??? Another slap in the face. Who does he think I am? A bum??! I am not poor, I don’t need to bring leftovers home. Even if I was poor, I would have never admitted it (It is called Russian pride and it is a very powerful thing).

- Oh no, of course not, -I said as cocky as I could.

He looked surprised and puzzled.

So he DID think I was a bum. Nice.

(You have probably guessed that in Russia or Belarus we don’t take leftovers home. You wouldn’t even think to do it. It is so not cool).

The waitress came with a bill and if I had cash I would have probably offered to pay for my dinner (even though it was against all my beliefs and principles) to prove to him that I was not that poor. My gentleman took care of the bill, but I didn’t feel relief neither was I thankful. He offended me (by asking me about the leftovers) and didn’t even apologize.

It bothered me that the man I loved thought I would take leftovers home. How dare he?

If you are Russian and reading this, you understand what I am talking about. If you are American, you probably have no clue what I felt.

The moral of the story is: if you decide to date a foreigner, learn their customs and traditions. Hubby and I ran into many awkward situations because of not learning about each other’s cultures first.

Only two years later my husband told me that he thought I didn’t like the steak and felt guilty for taking me there.

I am glad we are finally at the stage when we can laugh about it.

I Miss Public Transportation

2009-01-11T14:47:00.001-08:00

As you know, I firmly believe that men and women are different. Even though I think that feminism was originally a decent idea, I don’t necessarily agree with what it turned into now. Don’t get me wrong; I don’t believe that women are worse in any way; I just believe God created us differently and for different purposes. When the majority of men are better in some things, the majority of women are better in others. If you want to prove me wrong, show me a guy who can drive as poorly as I do.

Friday night I decided to go to one of the nearby malls – Palmer Mall. I knew the directions pretty well, but since I felt adventurous and I had a Tom-Tom GPS in my purse, I thought it would be a good idea to take a different route.

I looked up the address online and it said: 123 Palmer Park Mall, Easton, PA. I tried entering the information into my GPS, using “navigate to” option, but it didn’t recognize the address. After randomly and stubbornly clicking different buttons, I finally ran into “point of interest” option; I typed “Palmer Park Mall” and found it. Or that’s what I thought.

The drive was fine for awhile. I even listened to some Russian music and switched tracks twice. When I was getting off the highway the mall was supposedly only 3 minutes away.

The voice of John Cleese on GPS ( hubby set it up) took me left, then right; then made me merge left and take the second right. One minute left. I started getting suspicious. The streets were narrow and dark. Most of them were one-way. No traffic lights or any lights for that matter (not even in the windows of few houses I was driving by). One minute away from the mall, but no traffic, or people, or mall in my view. I kept driving until in the middle of a narrow-one-way- dark street the annoying voice said: “You have reached your destination. You may get out now and I am not going to help you carry your bags.” (it always does that). What do you mean I can get out now? I stopped the car (in the middle of the road of course) and looked at Tom-Tom. “PALMER STREET”. Somehow this little bastard took me to Palmer street, which has nothing to do with the Palmer Park mall. I panicked. WHAT DO I DO? WHERE TO GO? HOW TO GET OUT OF HERE??? Of course, at this very moment a car appeared out of nowhere and started beeping. Praying, I drove forward, then left, then right, hoping to stop again, but the car kept following me. Not sure what it was about, but after 5 minutes of driving, it finally got off my car’s butt.

I stopped (in the middle of the street again, because I can’t parallel park), called home and my smart man was able to find the mall’s address. Parkway avenue/248 intersection. Let’s try again.

Five minutes later the Tom-Tom took me out of this dark evil place. I don’t remember ever being so excited to see a traffic light. Maybe a little too excited.

“Left turn ahead” John Cleese announced. I moved to the left lane and stopped at the red light. Then something weird happened. A huge van across the street slowly started moving in my direction while blinking its head lights. HELLO? WHAT’S YOUR PROBLEM, BUDDY? I STILL HAVE A RED LIGHT HERE!

Suddenly with horror, I realized that the red light was not directly in front of me. It was on the right. OH MY!!!! I AM SITTING IN THE WRONG LANE! IT IS A TWO WAY STREET!!!. I hid most of my face in my scarf (thank God it was dark) and moved to the right lane. The big van angrily beeped at me one more time and passed me. Now I was standing directly under the light, but I couldn’t see it, because I moved too far front. In a moment I saw another car behind me and its persistent beeping and flashing gave me a clue that my light turned green. GOD PLEASE HELP ME. I HOPE IT IS NOT A COP. I guess it wasn’t, because they passed me on the next block, where the road did have two lanes...

I made a few more boo-boos before I got to the mall. I stopped on a crossroad, where I though was a stop sign and confused and made angry at least two other cars. Then I slowed down sharply when Cleese told me to make a U-turn, where one was not allowed. In fear of making more mistakes, I was probably driving 20 miles per hour (with a 45 limit) and annoying I don’t know how many drivers.

Yes, I made it to the mall before it closed. And yes, it is a typical driving story for me.

Even though I suck in driving, I still don’t think it makes me (or any of my female friends, who drive similarly) worse than others. There are a number of things that God blessed me (and women in general) with, but for understandable reasons, I am not going to list them here. Driving is just not one of them and I am fine with it.

Culture Shock Continues: Showers, Mops and Knobs.

2009-01-04T21:33:00.000-08:00

During my first summer in America, I worked in a Catholic children’s camp in Wisconsin. For more than a month I was getting acquainted with some brilliant American cleaning solutions like Lysol and Kleenex and learning the advantages and disadvantages of differently shaped brooms, mops and vacuum cleaners. Considering the fact that I was working as a housekeeper, it was quite appropriate. However, American mops and brooms were the only exposure to an American culture that I had in this camp.

All the other non-counselor staff was from Europe; the directors of the camp talked to us only to give us tasks (they either thought we were dumb or they simply didn’t like us too much); kids and counselors ate at different times and at different tables and had their activities when we cleaned and cooked. It didn’t look like it would be “the best summer of my life” which the Camp Counselor USA organization, through which I came to the US, promised to us before we signed the contracts. The idea of the program was to come to America, work for free and as pay, learn the culture, see some of the country and improve our language. Right.

You can imagine my excitement when on one beautiful morning Ben, one of the American camp counselors invited my friend (she was from Kazakhstan) and I to spend a weekend with his family in their suburb home somewhere close to Green Bay. I didn’t have any problem leaving my brooms and Lysol smelling rugs behind and accepted the invitation. So did my friend.

It was my first time going to an American home and spending time with a “real” American family. For almost a month I was dreaming of such an opportunity, but when it came I started panicking. (Three years later I learned from my communication textbooks that it is called cultural apprehension) The fact that the family was Catholic added to my stress, because I wasn’t very religious (or spiritual) at the time and everything unknown was freaking me out. I didn’t know what to wear; what to expect; how to behave and which jokes not to crack. On our way to the house I was cursing myself (and my Kazakhstan friend) for coming, missing my cleaning supplies and regretting the decision to wear a long-sleeved (I was going for modest) synthetic shirt and dark-indigo jeans in 90 degree weather.

I was sweaty and exhausted when we arrived. Ben’s mom greeted us at the door. She seemed nice and her smile was sincere.

- Are you tired, girls? Would you like a drink or a shower?
-
Now, in my country, you are supposed to say NO to everything, because when people offer something they EXPECT you to say no. If they really want to you have it, they will ask again and then you may say yes. It’s just like “HOWAREYOU” in America. You don’t care and you know the other person doesn’t care, but you still ask and reply.

So I said:

- No, thank you.

Either they have different rules in Kazakhstan, or my friend was so desperate for a drink and a shower that she didn’t care, she said:

- Yes please.

I still don’t know if Ben’s mom was interculturally competent, or I was too stinky, but she brought us two huge glasses of water and two sets of towels.

- I’ll show you where the shower is.

I was the first one to go. I took my smelly clothes off and hopped in a shower stall.
Ok, where are the knobs? Here they are.

In Russia knobs are designed for people with average intellect. Left is for cold; right is for hot. One is blue, another is red. To turn it on, you twist it clockwise; to turn it off,- counterclockwise. Simple.

In this country you need to have at least a Bachelor’s degree in engineering to figure these things out. I twisted the left knob. Nothing happened. Twisted the right one. Nothing. I tried pulling one. Then pressing. Then pressing and pulling and the same time. Then pressing and twisting. Still nothing. I repeated all the manipulations. Tried pressing/twisting/pulling harder. The water still wasn’t coming out.

The smartest choice at that moment would have been to get out of the shower, put my stinky clothes back on and ask someone to show me how this invention works. But I felt embarrassed. I didn’t want them to think I was dumb (better smelly than dumb) and I was in the shower for more than 10 minutes already. Darn!

After pushing both knobs for the last time without any reaction from their side, I said farewell to my dream of taking a shower. With a third try turned the water in the sink on; washed my face, splashed some water on my hands and legs and put clean clothes on…

I did end up taking a shower later that evening. My friend turned out to be smarter than I was. She somehow figured out the monster by herself and generously showed me what to do.

Thankfully, my shower adventure was the only stressful experience that weekend. I fell in love with Ben’s friendly family (Ben also had a father and 4 siblings), who loved God, who sang Christian songs in evenings; who joked with us and prayed for us throughout the weekend.

Even though I wasn’t a real Christian back then, I wrote in my journal: “I haven’t seen anything like that before. There is so much love in this house, that I don’t want to leave. I want to have a family like that one day. Just like that. God, if you are there and hear me, let me have a family like that.”

And you know what? HE heard me!

Ant Hill Cake Recipe

2009-01-03T11:25:00.000-08:00

After writing my previous post, I started feeling guilty, so to make up for all the negativity from my previous post, I decided to post a recipe for one of my favorite Russian cakes: Ant Hill.

IMHO this is one of these “to die for” cakes. Although not terribly attractive, it is delicious and is VERY easy to make.

You need:

1 can of condensed milk for the cream

2 sticks of butter (or about 200 grams) + 1 stick for cream

2 tbsp of water

half a tsp of salt

1 tsp of baking soda +2-3 spoons of white vinegar

2 eggs

2 cups of flour

2 tbsp of sugar

walnuts or pecans or poppy seeds (all optional)

For dough: mix 2 sticks of butter with 2 blended eggs. Add 2 spoons of sugar and 2 spoons of water. Mix soda and vinegar together. Add to the mix. Add 2 cups of flour. Mix until your dough forms small to medium crumbs. If it doesn’t, add more flour and mix again. Put crumbs on a baking sheet (I usually use 2 baking sheets) and spread them evenly. Bake for 7-10 minutes or until light brown at 375 Fahrenheit.Let them cool down a little.

(if it seems like too much, buy shortbread cookies and make small crumbs out of them;-))

For cream: Boil a can of condensed milk for an hour - hour and a half. MAKE SURE YOU ALWAYS HAVE PLENTY OF WATER IN YOUR POT, BECAUSE OTHERWISE THE CAN CAN EXPLODE! It happened to me once and it was not pretty!!! (If you have never done it and are scared of the process, don’t boil it.)Mix it with 1 stick of soft butter. If you wish add a cup or two of chopped nuts or half a cup of dried poppy seeds.

Mix cream with the crumbs. Form a little hill or whatever you are capable of, because it is quite messy. I usually wet my hands in cold water, so all the good stuff doesn’t stick.

Put to the refrigerator for at least an hour.It always tastes better the next day though.

If you want to be fancy, you can cover it with chocolate icing

Try it. It is worth it!

Feel free to message me with any questions.

PS. This is how it is supposed to look like:

Culture SHOCK in the USA: America Through a Foreigner’s Eyes

2009-01-03T10:52:00.000-08:00

When people hear my accent and learn that I am Russian they usually ask me two standard questions. One of them is “how much vodka can you drink?” The other one is “How do you like it here?”

I LOVE America. It is a great country and there are many things to love it for. I think that the majority of Americans are very kind and friendly people. America is not as corrupted as many other countries and if you work hard and have some intellect, you really can achieve a great deal. I don’t ever see myself going back and I just swore loyalty to this country a couple of weeks ago.

Nevertheless, there are a "few" things in this country, which I had a very hard time understanding and getting used to. I already wrote about food. Now, as I promised, I will continue…

The first thing that shocked me was the friendliness of American people. I remember arriving in JFK airport and having difficulties finding and understanding the subway. I didn’t sleep for two nights prior, due to a very long trip and a couple of rather wild farewell parties, and I looked like a bum. My English skills were lacking, but everyone I asked for directions was polite, patient and very helpful. Even people who didn’t know the answers to my questions, tried to help me figure out the map. The majority of people in my country wouldn’t be so nice and helpful. Many Russians don’t trust people, especially strangers who look like bums, so they often just ignore you, or run away from you.

American friendliness comes with smiles and to be honest it irritated me that people smiled all the time. I don’t have anything against sincere smiles, but more often than not I’ve seen insincere mechanical smiles, which meant absolutely nothing. I like when people are honest and sincere and seeing somebody showing their teeth to you, but having cold eyes, makes me feel creepy.

Also, it still makes me VERY uncomfortable when people I barely know or don’t know at all ask me how I am doing. After spending some time in America I started to realize that there is no reason to freak out when people ask you “How Are You?”. And there is no reason to tell a stranger about everything that is going on in your life. However, it still feels awkward. I personally just can’t say “Fine, thank you. How are you?”, to a stranger because firstly, I know the person doesn’t care. Secondly, if I am cranky, sad or tired I can’t say that I am fine, because it would be a lie. So, if you don't care, DO NOT ASK ME how am I doing, because you may end up listening to a 15-minute whining monologue about lack of free time, too much homework and diaper leaks.

Another big challenge for us, foreigners, is understanding American English. British English is usually taught at schools, and I think that the American version is much more simplified than British, at least when it comes to Grammar and vocabulary. But the American accent is very different and Americans tend to use much more slang, which is not found in a classic English language dictionary. Many foreigners have a hard time understanding sports-expressions. I was and still am confused when people use words such as “curveball’, “homerun”, or “Monday Morning Quarterback”.

I can’t but mention that the American obsession with sports still makes me wonder. I think I hear the words Eagles, Giants and Super Bowl almost as often as I hear the words ‘how are you?”

I tried to like and understand sports and I even went to see the Iron Pigs last season. But when in the end of the game someone as clueless as I was (also from Europe) asked me who won and which ones were the iron pigs and I didn’t know, I gave up. And I apologize for my ignorance, but I still don’t know what the Super Bowl is and what’s the big deal. Who knows, maybe I’ll get it one day.

Another big shocker for many Europeans, particularly for Eastern Europeans and Russians is the way most Americans dress. T-shirts, flip-flops, sneakers, sweats seem to be very popular. I couldn’t understand why people who could afford to dress nicely wore sweatpants and oversized t-shirts all year long. My first year in America was particularly hard. In Russia looks are more important than comfort, and it was normal for me to wear 3-inch stiletto heels, a short skirt and a dressy top to go food shopping. Here, when I was putting high heels and a skirt on, my new American acquaintances were often assuming that I was going out on a date or to a bar; or was hitting on a cashier at the store. It was almost impossible to prove that I was innocent.

I don’t have this problem anymore, since I got Americanized pretty quickly and started wearing sweatshirts, flat shoes and sometimes even sneakers.

The other thing that is difficult for me and for many other Eastern European women to get used to is feminism. I was raised believing that the man should be the head of a household; he should provide for his family; protect it and be responsible for major decisions. To me it never meant that women were worse and defective. I always believed and still believe that women and men are different, by nature,

and when men are better in, for example, crisis situations and decision making; women are generally much better in raising kids, multitasking and taking care of a house. Of course, there are exceptions, but I always thought that if men and women had certain roles in a family it would avoid confusion and conflict.

Also, in Russia, Belarus or Ukraine I was used to guys always paying for me in a restaurant or in a bar - whether it was a male friend, a boyfriend, an uncle or a brother. I know that is not always the case here. Luckily for me, my husband is old-fashioned and he not only paid for me even before we started dating and always opened the car door, but he also shared and continues to share my views on women and men.

Mindless spending is another thing I can’t understand. Before I came here I thought that all Americans were rich and dollars were pretty much growing on trees. Later I discovered that it was just a fabricated delusion of wealth and Americans have much less money than Russians.

Credit cards are not very popular in Eastern Europe. When you buy something, you spend cash. If you have to buy something, even if it is a two thousand dollar fur coat, you actually have to count out two thousands in bills and hand it to someone. This is an important reminder of what you're really spending.

In America there's no real money: It's all just numbers on a piece of paper where you sign away your future earnings to credit card companies. It scares me that you can spend money you don't yet have.

The mindless credit card system in America encourages lifelong enslavement to the financial institutions. Trapped in hopeless credit card debt, many Americans try to spend their way to happiness, further deepening their dept. Another reason for that is probably a consumer culture, which makes you believe that in order to be respected in this society and impress your neighbors and friends you have to have a big house, the newest cell phone and one heck of a car. Different advertisements make you want things you cannot afford, so you get hooked and become a slave of your credit card company.

People say that they have to take credit, because they need a car to drive to work, and need a house to move from their parents’ house. I can understand that, but, from my observation, people usually decide that they need a much nicer car and much bigger house then they can afford. To live by consuming seems to be the chief goal and the operating value of many people. They work two jobs and long hours to pay the debt and then in the process they get into more debt, they mortgage themselves to the hilt and it becomes an endless cycle which draws them in and makes them forget how to live simple but happy lives.
So, credit cards along with food, friendliness, American English, sweatpants, flip-flops and obsession with sports were the hardest things for me to get used to in this country.

Of course, there were and are many other minor things, too. Like, for example, I often hear from Americans, including my husband that I speak too quietly. I wasn’t aware of that until I came here, so I always say to my husband it is not me who is quiet; it is he, and the Americans who are too loud.

Also, when I was pregnant people kept asking me who I was having, when I was due, and whether the baby kicked me a lot. In my country people don’t ask you these- it is considered to be too personal. Also, we don’t do baby showers in Russia. My grandmother nearly had a heart attack when I sent her pictures from my baby shower. In Russia it is a bad sign to celebrate anything until the baby is born. We have the party after the birth, which might not be the smartest choice since the parents are usually exhausted, but that’s how it always was.

I also noticed that many Americans take lots of pills and heavily rely on drugs. For some reason, antibiotics seem to be very popular even though it's been proven that more often than not you don't need them and that they cause a lot of harm. From the amount of commercials advertising drugs on TV, I started to believe that Americans are the unhealthiest nation in the world.

I also have a problem with medical doctors in this country, who push drugs on you whether you need them or not(antibiotics included)and mock all the alternative medicine and holistic approaches...

The list goes on, but I better shut up before you delete me from your blog list.

Despite of everything I said, I love this country, which is now my country also.

There is no perfect state and I am sure when Americans go to Russia or any Eastern European country, they experience a culture shock as well. Probably, even a bigger one.

If you do go there, feel free to send me a message. Let me know everything that you think sucks in Russia. And then we can laugh together on all the imperfectness of this world and on human nature, with which we just can’t help but complain.

Starving Student’s Shopping Guide

2008-12-05T13:55:00.000-08:00

Since it is the end of the semester and I don’t seem to have time to write anything other than my school papers, I decided to recycle one of the articles, which I wrote for my univ. newspaper and post it here (with some revisions). I love fashion and since I don’t work, finding bargains is a must for me. Hubby says nobody can beat me.

With the imminent season of holidays and parties many start to ask the most important question of the year: what to wear. With the economy being in a dismal state people also think of how they can afford it.

The best way to save money would be to stay home and celebrate the holidays in a favorite pair of sweatpants while eating freshly baked gingerbread cookies. The second best bet would be to wear an outfit which made you look absolutely breathtaking at last year’s Christmas party. However, if you would rather die than wear the same dress two years in a row and if you hate gingerbread cookies, here are other suggestions.

One of the best places to shop for an outfit is the internet. Online shopping is gaining more and more popularity and there are many reasons why. It not only saves gas and reduces air pollution. If you know where and how to shop, online shopping can also save a fair amount of money.

The bargain web giants, which everyone needs to know are Bargain Outfitters, Overstock and Smart Bargains. These sites sell top quality brand name items for 20 - 90 percent less than the retail price.

The quantities and the sizes are limited, so if you really like something, don’t hesitate to buy it right away. Otherwise, somebody else will.

Another lifesaving site, predominantly for ladies, is MJR Sales, which sells brand name new clothing, lingerie and shoes as well as customer return items. Their official website MjrSales.com states: “Most of our product offered on our website comes from the “Worlds Most Famous Lingerie and Sportswear catalogue! So famous we can’t say the name, but you know who we are talking about.”

If you haven’t guessed, they sell Victoria’s Secret merchandise. Everything labeled as Moda, Famous Catalog or Colin Stewart comes directly from Victoria’s Secret and is a 100 percent authentic and unbelievably cheap.

Compare, Flirty Little Scoopneck Dress on sale at Victoriassecret.com: $79,
aka identical Moda Curvy Jersey Scoopneck from MjrSales.com: $14.99.

(courtesy of MjrSales.com)

(courtesy of VictoriasSecret.com)
MJR Sales shipping rates are pretty high, but on every holiday the site runs free shipping promotions (by the way,they have free shipping now!!!), which is the best time to jump in and stock up on your favorites.

To make online shopping even sweeter, there are numerous websites that feature coupon codes for almost every major store that exists on the web. Among the most popular ones are RetailMeNot.com, CouponCabin.com and NaughtyCodes.com. You can find and share printable and online coupons for more than 20,000 stores.

For even bigger savings, everyone should use cash back sites, like BigCrumbs or Ebates.com, which pay you every time you buy something through their links. If you click the links to visit your favorite stores, it can save you 1 to 30 percent on each purchase.

Even though online shopping has many benefits, there are a number of people who wouldn’t buy anything without touching or trying it first.

For people, who prefer traditional Brick and Mortar but still like to save money, there are always discount and outlet stores, which are worth checking out. Also, pre-holiday sales are particularly good this year, because concerned retailers are trying to find ways to turn skittish shoppers into buyers. From Bon-Ton to Banana Republic, stores are offering 20 to 70 percent sales on their usually overpriced merchandise.

So, whatever your shopping preferences are and your budget is, there is no need to blame the economy and spend New Year’s Eve in pajamas and with a sour face. With a whole heap of excitement, a trifle of effort and a little bit of money you can score the perfect holiday outfit and forget about the economy, recession, papers and finals. At least for a day.

The Bible. Did You Know?

2008-11-11T11:03:00.000-08:00

Most of my atheist friends think that my faith in Jesus is just as bizarre as belief in the Easter Bunny.
“You can’t argue with science,” they would say with an arrogant smile. (Ironically, most often I hear it from those who were dreading and hating science at school.) “People chose to believe these outdated concepts, because it is easy to believe in something than trying to understand the world scientifically. It is obvious”.
Trying to prove otherwise is usually just as useless as hitting your head on a brick wall hoping it would break. I’ve been on both sides of the “wall” and without hesitation I can say that being a Christian is a pretty darn hard work. It is not easy to try to be like Jesus, because of our sinful human nature; it is not easy when people you love think you are crazy and foolish for being a Christian; it is not easy to forgive, love and live the way God wants us to… If you tried, you know what I am talking about.
It also amazes me that so many people blindly trust in anything that has label “science” on it, without even realizing that science also has its own faith-based belief system… But I don’t feel like philosophizing about this today. There are numerous sites that do the job (such as www.godandscience.org).
Today I want to write about the Bible
Many don’t know that the Bible has more external historical evidence for authenticity that any other book in history. There are now more than 24000 known manuscript copies of the New Testament in existence. No other document of antiquity even begins to approach such numbers. The historical reliability of the Bible was tested many times by the same criteria used on all historical documents. Homer's Iliad is in second place behind the New Testament among ancient writings and it has just 643 copies. Yet how many people doubt Iliad’s authenticity and how many people doubt the Bible’s?
The Bible has proven itself to be archeologically accurate also. No archaeological evidence has been found that disproves the Bible's account of civilizations and cultures.
The more discoveries are made, the more proof is found for its authenticity. There are tons of information about it on the web, in books and periodicals.
And yet, people still chose to disbelieve. Many assume that the Bible is just a book of myths, legends and fiction characters (yes, some parts of the Bible ARE and were meant to be fiction) and don’t bother checking it out. The majority of people from my surroundings who mock Bible and think that it is a book of fairy tales have never actually read it, or even opened it.
I’ve noticed that many Christians don’t care about the historical reliability of the Bible. They either have no interest in such proof (they just KNOW the Bible is true) or they assume there is none — that it cannot be done. Since I became a Christian, I didn’t need any proof anymore, but before I became one it would have been greatly appreciated. Unfortunately, no one ever pointed out to the fact that Bible was not “made up by some crazy people” like I used to think. Bible is a historical document. But just like many others, I just assumed there would be no proof of any historical evidence and that Christian religion is based on blind faith.
I realize that the fact that the Bible’s has historical evidence is not going to turn everyone who finds out about it to Christianity. I just think that we, as Christians, can and should defend our faith and it is our responsibility to be able to defend it intellectually. Christians are constantly put on spot by atheists and non-believers, because they don’t know how to use facts, reason and logic to stand up for their faith or they are too lazy to do that. God gave us all brain, which is a terrible thing to waste.
So if somebody asks you,
“How you, a smart guy/gal, can believe all these religion stuff which doesn’t even make sense?”
Instead of answering with: ”Jesus loves me this I know, for the Bible tells me so…”, you can say:
“Did you know that there are more than 24000 known manuscript copies of the New Testament in existence?…No?! Well, let me tell you…”

And then, don’t forget to pray hard for their salvation.

"Don't Blame Me"

2008-11-02T12:36:00.000-08:00

While I am trying to create another post, I decided to post this short poem. It always makes me think.

"I am the LIGHT,
but you don't see me;

I am the WAY,
but you don't follow me;

I am the TRUTH,
but you don't believe me;

I am the TEACHER,
but you don't listen to me;

I am your LORD,
but you don't obey me;

I am your GOD,
but you don't pray to me;

I am your BEST FRIEND,
but you don't love me.

If you are unhappy,
don't blame me."

“It is a Sunny Day”, or How I Passed My Citizenship Test

2008-10-31T14:53:00.000-07:00

Congratulate me, guys! I am only one oath away from becoming an official American citizen. I passed my citizenship test.

My naturalization interview (or exam, whatever you prefer to call it) was one of the most intimidating, silliest and easiest things I’ve ever done.

We (hubby, Aiden and I; Sasha stayed with grandma) arrived at the USCIS around 7.30 in the morning. My appointment was at 8.20 am. We live about an hour and 20 min. away, but I was so freaked out not to miss it that I insisted we leave at 5am. I was too excited and stressed to sleep the night before, so you can imagine how I looked and felt when we finally arrived. I was wearing a light gray suit, which was blending well with the color of my face and accentuated my red eyes.

On my way there I was so freaked out that I could not move my jaws. I knew the test questions by heart and I haven’t done anything illegal that would prevent me from getting my citizenship. But it didn’t matter. My sick imagination was more powerful than my true senses. I was imagining that somebody else with my name committed a crime and I wouldn’t be able to prove that it wasn’t me. I was imagining a scary looking immigration officer who would have a strong accent and I wouldn’t be able to understand him. I was also imagining embarrassing myself by forgetting all the answers for the History/government test. I thought the officer would not trust me if he/she sees my hands shaking (it happens when I am stressed out)….
I was trying to pray through all these terrors and I asked hubby to help me pray. I was still afraid, VERY afraid.

The officer, who ended up interviewing and testing me, did not look like the Hulk with Dracula teeth, waiting to eat me any moment (as I thought he would). What a relief! Skinny, middle-aged, white guy without a heavy accent was in front of me. I felt a little uncomfortable, because he didn’t smile (I am used to Americans that always smile), but he was still way better than I imagined.

-Do you swear to tell the truth?

- Yes, I do.
I felt like I was in a court hearing accused of some serious crime.

We sat down. He asked for my green card, passport and started looking at my papers. I started calming down as it didn’t look like he was going to eat me, or even arrest me.

- What county do you live in?
- Actually, I am not sure. I always mix it up between X and Z. I know it’s X Valley. My husband would know, he is the smarter one in the family (I hope hubby will read this).

There is nothing worse than telling a joke and people look at you with a stone face. This happened to me.

- That’s OK if you don’t know, it doesn’t mean you are not smart.

Okay.

Then he asked me a few questions about my background, my current occupation, the number of kids, etc (by the way he already knew all of this because he had my file in front of him).

- Did the Soviet Union still exist when you were born?

- Yes (I wanted to say that it would be nice if I were born afterwards. Ahh, being 16 again…But apparently the guy didn’t have a sense of humor.)

- Have you ever been a member of a Communist party?

- Um, no.

- Have you ever been a part of a terrorist organization?

- No

By doing research online I knew that the next question would have been Have you ever been a prostitute? Either I looked innocent enough or didn’t look good enough to be one, he skipped this one.

Gradually, my fear transformed into almost absolute confidence and peace. Heck, I can do this. I am not a prostitute, or commy or a terrorist. I’ve been in college for 8 years, I passed hundreds of exams, I’ve published articles and my GPA is 3.98 (don’t mean to brag). I can pass a History test and of course I can pass the Reading and Writing part of the exam. I think.

-OK, - the guy said.- Time for the test.

In anticipation of showing of my deep knowledge of the American government and history and my English language skills, I smiled to myself.

-You are not going to get me, guy. I know my stuff.

I am not going to torture you will all the questions he asked me, but he asked me 6 questions (you need to answer 6 out of 10 to pass) and if I didn’t study at all, I would have passed the test anyway. I don’t know anyone who doesn’t know where the White House is located and what it is. I also haven’t met a person yet who didn’t know the current American president.

After I answered six questions in a row, the officer gave me a piece of paper with these questions and asked me to read one.

“Who created laws in the United States?” I read and answered: “Congress”

- You don’t need to answer. I just want to see if you know how to read.

??? You know that I am a senior in college and a community college graduate. Of course I can read. But I guess the guy didn't trust American higher education system.

- You passed the Civics and the Reading tests! - the guy announced.

What do you mean I passed?! Aren’t you going to ask me to name the first 13 states, or the numbers of amendments that mention voting rights? Come on now, I studied all weekend!!!
But he just attached the sheet of paper with my test results to my file.

-Okay, Writing test.

Finally. Now he can see that I am one heck of a writer!
I was hoping he would give me a topic and I would have to write a short impromptu essay or something. I love writing impromptu, so I was hoping to put all my wit, idiom knowledge into one short but touchy little essay.

I grabbed a pen and looked at him.

- Are you ready?

Heck, yes!
-Yes.

- Write for me, please: “It is a sunny day.”

I did and looked at him to wait for further instructions. He looked at me.

- Can I have the paper back?

I handed him the paper.

- Congratulations, you passed!

Huh?

Still puzzled I was starring at him while he was explaining that I passed all the tests and that now I have to wait for a letter with the notice when my oath of allegiance ceremony would take place. Then he got up and walked me towards the door.
I still couldn’t believe it was over. Then he smiled (for the first time!) and I realized that it was really time to leave. He was not on duty anymore.

I didn’t have a choice but leave. Amazingly, I didn’t feel relieved. I felt like I had some unfinished business. And the not-even-a-complex sentence “It is a sunny day.” is stuck in my head to this day.

And if you think I am strange, that’s fine. I know I am.

What’s in a Bread?

2008-10-21T14:47:00.000-07:00

Only in America... people order double cheese burgers, a large fry, and a diet coke...

“American food is horrible. It is greasy, overly sweet, and is packed with chemicals and preservatives. Fruits and veggies taste like plastic, they can last for a year in the refrigerator and chickens are boosted with steroids. You’ll get fat in no time,” – one of my dearest friends told me after spending a year in the US. (Just for the record, she gained about 15 pounds here and was never able to get rid of them.)

Before I stepped my foot on American ground, I made an oath to stay in shape. It is all about willpower. I am not going to eat junk and greasy foods. I’ll stick to fruits and veggies (even if they taste like plastic!) and will avoid overeating. I know I can do it.

God is my witness - I tried.
But… I physically worked for 10-12 hours a day (I was a housekeeper in a Catholic Summer camp in WI) and I was hungry. For the first week I didn’t eat any of the standard meals which usually included hotdogs, cookies, hamburgers, chips and soda. I ate tasteless fruits and veggies, that came with the meals, drank 2% milk (that I thought tasted like water) and water (juices were way too sweet), but I was still very hungry. We didn’t have a car and there were no buses in the area, so little by little I started eating what everybody else ate.

The result? You tell me…
This is me one week before coming to the US.

Me 6 months,50 hamburgers, 25 pounds and 2 hair colors later. USA:

There were many things in this country that shocked me (some in a good way, some bad). I got used to and accepted most of them, but food in America is something I still cannot understand.
When you buy bread in Russia, or Poland, or anywhere in Eastern Europe the listed ingredients are: flour, water, yeast and salt. Sometimes, there will be some spices added to it, but that’s about it.

It is a great mystery for me why to make bread in America you have to include half of the periodic table elements.
Here is the list of ingredients of supposedly healthy 100% whole grain Wonder Bread:

Whole wheat flour, water, wheat gluten, high fructose corn syrup (why oh why?), soybean oil, salt, molasses, yeast, mono and diglycerides, exthoxylated mono and diglycerides, dough conditioners (sodium stearoyl lactylate, calcium iodate, calcium dioxide), datem, calcium sulfate, vinegar, yeast nutrient (ammonium sulfate), extracts of malted barley and corn, dicalcium phosphate, diammonium phosphate, calcium propionate.

Or even a better one - Home Pride Wheat Bread: Enriched Wheat Flour [Flour, Barley Malt, Ferrous Sulfate (Iron), B Vitamins (Niacin, Thiamine Mononitrate (B1), Riboflavin (B2), Folic Acid)], Water, Sweetener (High Fructose Corn Syrup or Sugar), Yeast, Wheat Bran, Whole Wheat Flour, Wheat Gluten, Molasses. Contains 2% or Less of: Soybean Oil, Salt, Butter, Salt, Sweet Dairy Whey, Butter (Cream, Salt, Enzymes), Maltodextrin, Honey, Corn Syrup, Calcium Sulfate, Soy Flour, Dough Conditioners (May Contain: Dicalcium Phosphate, Calcium Dioxide, Sodium Stearoyl Lactylate, Ethoxylated Mono and Diglycerides, Mono and Diglycerides and/or Datem), Yeast Nutrients (May Contain: Ammonium Sulfate, Ammonium Chloride, Calcium Carbonate, Monocalcium Phosphate and/or Ammonium Phosphate), Cornstarch, Wheat Starch, Vinegar, Natural Flavor, Beta Carotene (Color), Enzymes, Calcium Propionate (to Retain Freshness), Soy Lecithin.

I don’t know about you, but I don’t like to put anything I cannot pronounce into my mouth.
For more than a year I didn’t touch American bread. MAYBE, if it tasted OK, I would have overcome my fears and ate it, but IMHO it tasted awful. Sweet, soft, smelly and mushy, it tasted more like Oxy Clean than bread.
I even tried baking my own (for those who know me well you know what a deed this was), but it didn’t go so well.
Later I discovered that there were alternatives to this life-time lasting bread in plastic bags. Some local bakeries and Panera Bread were an answer to my prayers. Pricey, but still cheaper than driving all the way to a Russian store which was 80 miles away. I was happy and relieved, but never stopped wondering about the mysterious ingredients in the Oxy Clean bread.

After being here for five years I found out that you can buy almost anything in America, you just need to know where to look. And make big bucks to be able to afford it.

The other big food related wonders for me were: milk, fat-free stuff, high-fructose corn syrup, soybean oil and turkey-sized chickens.

But I’ll write down about them a little later...

First Day

2008-10-17T08:24:00.000-07:00

The day I arrived in the United States I remember dimly. I hadn’t slept for more than 2 days (trip + rather long farewell party) and I could barely remember where in the world I was and why. I do recall long lines in the JFK airport; a border guard with a perfect set of teeth, his standard “What is the purpose of your visit to the United States?”, and my lower back ache from the 9 hour plane ride.

I remember the bustle and commotion: people rushing, talking, turning, shouting, eating. I remember getting dizzy from hearing different languages at the same time. “America is a country of immigrants”- I heard this before, it just never hit me what it really meant.

The other things that were extraordinary enough for me to notice (despite of my coma-like condition) were yellow cabs that for some reason kept beeping; tall glass buildings, billboards, humidity and some rather eccentric fashion choices.

My first night in the US I spent at Columbia University’s dorm. The dorm was the complete opposite of what I expected it to be. I thought I would see huge rooms with king-sized beds, leather furniture, soft carpet and TV/DVD sets. A nice mix of Marriott and Ritz hotel suits. Instead, I saw gray walls (which in their better times were white), a wooden military looking bed with a dark green mattress, one antediluvian chair and cabinets. My dream of a soaking bubble bath was brutally wrecked by the view of dirty shower stalls that were supposed to be shared by at least a dozen other tired and sweaty exchange students.

I thought everything in America was supposed to be cool (well, except food)…My dorm in Poland, where I spent 4 wild years, was much more sophisticated and cozy.

My culture shock began…

:-)

2008-10-17T08:05:00.000-07:00

I was going through some old pictures and showing them to my almost 4-year-old girl.

Me: Sasha, look, this is Mama.
Sasha: Oh, is this when you were a little boy?

Why Can’t I Withstand Societal Pressures?

2008-10-14T14:36:00.000-07:00

Ta-da! I have a blog.

I am not sure why though, since I don’t seem to have time to even reply to my e-mails and since I absolutely hate typing (probably because I still type with three fingers staring at the keyboard). But “they” kept saying that it is almost illegal not to have a blog these days, especially if you like to write.

Now, I do love to write. My idea and process of writing were always a little different though. I would usually go to Barnes&Noble, purchase a Starbucks Grande Java Chip Frappuccino, then go to the Gifts for Readers isle and spend a good hour trying to decide between a breathtaking Italian leather journal and a classy squared Moleskin Legendary Notebook. I would end up taking both of them home, smelling them, touching pages (I never said I was normal) and spending another hour making up my mind on which one to start with.

There is nothing like writing on the first page of a stainless and pure journal. I don’t know why, but my handwriting gradually decreases with every page. On the first page it is beautiful, almost immaculate; by the middle of the journal it looks like the entries were written by a second-grader who had a broken hand. When it starts looking like this I know it is time to start another journal. Of course I do it with a great pleasure.

Technology takes all of these simple pleasures away from me. I type slowly and my unique and maybe genius thoughts are often lost due to my eyes’ and fingers’ lack of speed. Oh well. Since I cannot withstand societal pressures, here I am, blogging. Even if I completely suck at it, from now on if somebody asks me if I’ve ever had a blog, I can carelessly shake my hair and absently wave my hand: “oh yeah… Been there, done that.” And nobody will be able to call me “neanderthal” ever again.

Before I Came to America

2008-10-14T04:48:00.000-07:00

When I heard about the opportunity to come visit the United States of America, I didn't think twice. I was a 20-year old frivolous student craving adventures and adrenaline. America seemed to be a perfect place to satisfy both.

My vision of America, thanks to the centralized gate-keeping media, was quite primitive. Tall glass buildings, junk food, Coca-Cola, dollars, peanut butter, fake smiles, white teeth and sneakers. Hey, this was way better than what the Soviets thought of America during the Cold War (see the picture: Anti-American poster, 1970s).

The original plan was to come to the US in Summer to work, earn some bucks, try peanut butter and travel (for 4 months total). I was expecting an adventure to spice up my life a little. If somebody told me back than that I was going to the U.S. to find God, get married to "one of those American guys", give births to two American children and stay there for good, I would have laughed hysterically.

This is me 3 months before leaving: naive and clueless that very shortly my life would turn upside down (in a good way).

PS. I am not sad. Russians don't smile much. And yes, the hair color was not the best choice for me.

Want to make God laugh? Tell Him about your plans.:-)

How Much Would You Pay?

2008-10-12T07:33:00.001-07:00

I wonder what would happen if we had to pay actual money for our lives…? If for every hour of our life we would have to pay, let’s say, a hundred bucks…? Obviously, we would run out of money quickly (unless we are of a selected few such as Gates, Hiltons or Trumps, but I doubt any of those specimens are reading my blog)… but that’s not the point. My point is that if our lifetime was something we had to pay for, I bet we would appreciate it much more and our attitude towards time that keeps running away from us would change.

We can’t ignore the fact that we all will die someday. It means, that every minute of this life (not excluding this very minute of exploring the web), brings us closer to our death. We don’t like to think about it as if we won’t, we’ll always stay young, charming and attractive. We live as this life would never end. We spend hours on MySpace instead of using our talents; we watch hours of TV and spend months or years on jobs we don’t like instead of fighting for dreams and working our behinds off to achieve the goals. We keep finding excuses for not doing what God called us to do as well as blaming Heaven/circumstances/parents/spouses/presidents/pets (list can be long, depending on how creative you are) for not being in places we would rather be. We are so busy in this everyday rush, that we miss our lives. We concentrate on small problems, we do things that have absolutely no meaning and we fight over minor things and miss what’s important. I am not preaching to anyone but me right now, because I know myself well and can assure you, that I am very guilty of all of these things. For example, this morning I got excited for getting an Ives Rocher order, so I spent half an hour looking at the creams and tubes and browsing the new catalog which was generously put into the box without charge; then I got upset when I realized that my Victoria’s Secret order didn’t arrive yet, so I spent another half hour browsing victoriassecret.com trying to figure out if my order has left the stock yet. Then I logged into Myspace, then my gmail account, then my mail.ru account and MSN account. When I was done with MSN I went back into Myspace to see if I got any more messages while I was checking all of my email accounts. Another half hour passed. Then Sasha woke up, so I didn’t need to find anymore excuses for not writing or doing something else more valuable and useful… Ninety minutes of my life… Ninety quiet minutes when my kids are asleep, the dinner is taken care of and schoolwork is mostly done. I blew it just as I do most of the time.

I don’t believe in reincarnation and think that we have only one earthly life. Why then do I keep wasting it and killing my time like it will never run out?…It will run out one day. I think that if I wake up with this thought tomorrow, my day would be much more productive than this one.

Life Gets Better Every Day

2008-10-11T08:46:00.000-07:00

picture, soviet woman, kolhoznitsa

I Should Have Stuck to Starbucks

2008-10-11T07:08:00.000-07:00

If you have ever been to a different country you know how much of a pain getting something as simple as a cup of coffee could be. If you have been in this country for more than five years and you are only four courses away from getting a bachelor's degree, you don't expect this to be an issue. Well, you are wrong.

Yesterday I decided to stop at the school cafeteria to reward myself with a cup of Starbucks coffee. I've done it a couple of times before and it was pretty straightforward. I give the cashier 5 bucks, she gives me my Starbucks iced coffee and some change. I put change in my purse and sip coffee. Simple.

Since the weather was particularly obnoxious and chilly yesterday, I though it would be a good idea to warm myself up with a cup of a hot coffee (Big Mistake#1).

- A cup of hot Starbucks coffee, please, - I said with my Russian accent and pointed at the ad featuring a signature plastic cup of iced and slightly overpriced coffee. ($2.30!)

- Oh, we don't do hot Starbucks. We have regular coffee though for a lower price.

- Great! I'll have the largest size then.

- It will be $1.80. Would you like to add a flavor shot for an extra 30 cents?

Heck, yes. Still cheaper than flavorless Starbucks: -Yes, please (Big mistake #2). What flavors do you have?

-Hazelnut, Caramel, Gingerbread...

_Mmm, gingerbread sounds good.

30 seconds later the cashier hands me a 24oz coffee cup and says:

-It (gingerbread) is very sweet. Try before you put any sugar in it.

While still at the register I take the cup to my mouth and take a sip (BIG BIG Mistake #3). I don't know whose eyes became bigger at the moment, mine, the cashiers or a female student's standing next to me in line.

-NOOO, DON'T!!!!- the cashier screamed and every single soul in the cafeteria was staring at me. - I meant you try it after you put coffee in the cup!

Puzzled and nauseous from the incredible sweetness in my mouth, I looked inside the cup and surely enough there was no coffee. Just the sticky orange substance called gingerbread shot, half of which was already gone.

-You pour coffee yourself - it is in the corner.

I forced a silly giggle (Big Mistake #4, because it probably sounded pathetic) and left the register forgetting about the change. Only God knows how hard it was to pour coffee when at least 20 pairs of eyes kept looking at me. Nobody laughed (God bless them), I think they were just curious if I am capable to finish the process of getting my coffee. It didn't go smoothly, because it took me awhile to figure out which way to turn the lid of the pot to pour it.

When the coffee was finally in my cup I slowly walked my way out of the cafeteria (although I badly wanted to run), pretending to be cool.

I am not going back there ever again.

Needless to say, the cashier was right. Gingerbread shot was very sweet. I will never be able to hear the word "gingerbread" without shivers. I will never order gingerbread flavor again.