The Russian lover's mother left for Moscow yesterday. She had been visiting us, i.e. living with us, for two weeks. When I tell people this, most of them gasp and give me horrified looks of pity. I don't know why, but I'm extremely laid back about these things. It probably helps a lot that his mother can't really speak in English (although she can read it and understand it, which helps but is also spooky. And I end up doing that ignorant American thing where you talk REAL LOUD and S L O W instead of just clearly.)
In any case, I'm just not THAT put out. I'm used to rolling with it, to making sacrifices, or just dealing with what you've got. So if Mom wants to come for a few weeks? Well, we'll just figure it out.
Plus, Mom cooks. She cooks Russian food that is pretty good, although I like the Russian lover's food better (we're more fish/vegetable than meat/potato people). She cooks soups and things that I don't understand and fills our refridgerator with them. And she also does dishes! I mean, really. So yes, it's MOM living with us. But it's like having a cook and a maid, and one who imports Russian vodka!
Yes, I'm a terrible human being. I wear it well.
Let's talk about real Russian vodka, how it is unlike any vodka you've had, how it makes Grey Goose taste like pond slime. I do not exaggerate. The Goose is slimey and not all that tasty, although it does beat out a few other, even more unworthy opponents. And the Stoli you get here, btw, is as fake as your Louis Vuitton bag. The truth will out! But real, true Russian vodka...that...that is like Evian, my friends. This is vodka you can put in your water bottle and no one, not even you, will know that it is not the nectar of a spring in the Alps. Smooth, sweet deliciousness. This is what makes the Russians the ubermensch, I'm sure of it.
So, I'm going to miss the Russian mom a bit, although we exchanged only about 12 words. I spent a lot of time listening to Russian conversations and not learning any Russian while I was at it. That's not true: I now know how to say Hi, Bye, Thank You, Yes, No, and HUH? All of which should get me around the Motherland just fine one day.
But Mom was really sweet, or at least, she was really quiet and smiled and I never understood a word that she said. So it suddenly feels very... empty in the apartment. But, this is a good thing. It means that we have just this much more space in our tiny apartment again. It means that I don't have to put on pants before I stumble to the bathroom in the middle of the night. It means I don't have to feel left out of conversations held in another language. It means I don't feel obligated to make it home in time for dinner. And while it means there is no breakfast laid out in the morning when I wake up, it also means that when I wake up in the morning I can have a pleasant romp with the lover and not have to worry about the fact that our bed squeaks, but not as loud as I shriek.