MoscowMom took me on a whirlwind tour of Moscow. Wow, is she amazing. There we were in our coats and scarves, standing in front of St. Basil's, the mausoleum with Lenin inside, the Kemlin, we walked through GUM department store, bought tickets for the ballet Gisele at the Bolshoi Theater box office, got drinks to keep our hands warm at Starbucks on the Old Arbat, saw Pushkin's house, bought pastries at a fancier-than-France French bakery, with an Olympic gold-medal-winning tennis player standing in line behind us. Then we had lunch at the fabulous Cafe Pushkin. I want to take you there when you come visit, just look at it!
At the coat check, you get, not a plastic ticket, not a clothespin with a number on it, but a brass token, beautifully engraved with your number. The dishes are lovely, they give you a footstool for your bag to sit on, they serve twenty-four hour old shechee–although I had borcht, they make it with goose and apple. Then came my huge piece of salmon served on a bed of grilled lemon. The whole thing was dreamy, a perfect setting for Peter's Victorian Russian, must go there with him. The coat check guy holds your coat for you while you put it on, he practically buttons it up for you.
Now I am back to reality, unpacking our airshipment, 700 pounds of the stuff we thought most important. We have a lot of flannel sheets and oatmeal. Four bikes and no garage. Maybe we'll keep them in the car, since I don't think we'll be driving it much. Maybe the car will be our garage.
twenty-something years of "what have you been up to?" 
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