Happy Earth Day

Current Temperature: My thermometer says +3C. But the Internet puts Moscow at -4C. Maybe that's out by the airport. In any case, that's not Practically-the-Merry-Month-of-May Weather. Although, in fairness, and stop me if I've said this before, but I distinctly remember shivering in line at the movies in Pittsburgh one spring (this would be . . . oh, maybe 1993 . . .) waiting to see something with "the incomparable Gong Li," and muttering "Global warming, my ass."

Jour de Cowboy Update: Skittles reports that the hamburgers "had mayonnaise and pickles and vegetables you could not scrape off."

Baboo was only slightly appeased: "Yeah, but you got frites, didn't you."

Skittles, "Oh, yeah. And they were good."

Sharing Is Caring: Do you know about Warren's Sausages? Because if you live here in Moscow, you should. I had the Spicy Thai ones yesterday, and they were, indeed, VERY spicy. But I think my favorites are the Classic Chipolatas.

Yeah, their website is a mess. Sorry about that, but it's not my website. Sometimes I can't seem to find anything in English, and other times I can. I can read the product names in Russian if I must, but it takes too damn long. Today, I was able to see the order form in English, and linked it here for you. But that's not always the case. Oh, and the two times I have ordered these, the delivery was serendipitous, but not at all when I was expecting it. But that pretty much describes everything about Moscow.

Doesn't sound like much of a product endorsement, but, really, it is.

I Have a Theory: The reason I sat down to write this post at all was because I was struck by this idea yesterday.

It has come to my attention lately that, socially, we are running (if what we do can be called that) with a distinctly younger crowd. These people are roughly 25 to 34 or so. Obviously, some of them are women (and very cool ones . . . I cite Mirka, from Slovakia, as a prime example). But it seems to me that the ones I interact with most are men.

Very young men.

Let me state now, and for the record, that there is absolutely no hanky-panky going on here. No flirting. These are attractive men, but it just doesn't have that vibe. And, no, in spite of the fact I draw gay men to me like moths to a flame, my gay-dar isn't picking up anything.

For example, Adorable French Guy always calls me to arrange an outing. Even though he knows The Spouse and has his contact information, too. Last week he called and asked about The Spouse even. "Do you want to talk to him?" I asked. "Non . . ." and he went on to suggest a museum.

Why does he want to talk to me?

My first thought was that maybe I'm sort of Acting Den Mother. All of the reassurances of Mom with none of the guilt. Because being an expat is tough work, even if you are young and resilient. At least I hope I don't remind him of Mom. Ew. Although I don't really want to be Mrs. Robinson either. Double ew.

But one of my good friends and fellow expats suggested something I like better. She theorized that maybe the "younger ones" like to have older, married women friends because we're totally non-threatening.

Like gay men are for us? Eureka.

I'm clinging to that idea anyhow.

For Those Who Are Following This Saga: My back is feeling a little better today. I am counting the minutes until my gym membership kicks in, and I can go swimming every day.

Twice? The Spouse brought me a copy of Aeroflot's April in-flight magazine, and my blog is mentioned there. Page 214. It was in the March issue, too. Хорошо!