Since it’s a 3-day weekend and I probably won’t be thinking about the world economy or how ridiculous Putin is, and Mr. B is actually going to the U.S. open to see Novak this weekend,  here’s a comic. Links if you can get to the bottom!

From the blogs:

1. Gubbi’s car dealership in the Emirates
2. Wendi crowdsources her questions
3. Rima is a Lithuanian superstar
4. Should we get up for women?
5. Lea on that Russian food we all know and love

From the Internet:

1. Saving money on lunch at work (something I always struggle with since I’m lazy and love food)
2. I’m still skeptical
3. A pretty for you
4. Kyrgysztan’s birthday
5. The first step in anything, not just web design
6. Should you do a PHd?
7. One of my favorite pics of DC
8. Husband home from Iraq
9. Dress code at work

Yesterday, I bought three pairs of shoes, because I need some fall shoes and I don’t think I’ve bought shoes in the past year.  I particularly needed a nice new pair of work shoes, but since DSW are heartless bastards, all of their nice work shoes cost more than $20 a pair, which is what I’ve been paying for the last 24 years, and which might explain why I constantly need new shoes.

I stood in front of the high heels section for a good half hour, trying to find a pair that didn’t have a heel that was higher than an inch (because high-heeled shoes destroy your back and if there’s anything more annoying than being hypochondriac it’s being justified in being hypochondriac) and that was at a price I felt comfortable with.   I paced back and forth, trying to justify the $50 pricetag on a pair of shoes, because I’ve been brought up that you should never buy for full price if you can buy on sale. I didn’t know jeans cost more than $25 until I went to college.

It was a struggle within myself of herculean proportions as I picked out these shoes, took them to the register, took them back, bit my lip, sucked it up, and bought $50 shoes, because I am a Working Woman who has her own money and can have nice things, damnit.

Then I called my mom.

“Mom, you’ve ruined my childhood, ” I said right off the bat.

“By sacrificing and bringing you to America?”

“No, by raising me to be cheap, in the family tradition.”

“I’m very proud of that.”

“Yeah, but now I can’t even buy a pair of shoes without feeling guilty and repneting afterwards.”

“I’m proud that I’ve taught you life skills.”

“Well, I bought myself a pair of shoes for $50 today, so ha!”

I paused a second.

“But I also bought two other pairs on clearance.”

“That’s my girl.”

Mongolia borders other thoughts in my mind the same way it borers Russia in real life: quietly, peripherally, passively.

Russia-Mongolia border.

Mr. B always makes fun of me for being Mongoloid because sometime, vaguely, years ago, I mentioned to him that it’s possible that my dad’s side of the family, like many Russians, have Mongolian or Tatar ancestry after I saw a picture of my aunt when she was younger looking more Asian than European.  According to Armchair Anthropologist Boykis, this is the reason why I enjoy horses and always have a yearning to travel somewhere far away.

According to me, I love horses because I love all animals (except cats) and I have a yearning to travel away from armchair anthropologists.

Prayer pole.

So, in order to get closer to my (not-really) roots, I’ve started reading Travels in an Untamed Land by Jasper Becker, who got one of the first journalist visas after the collapse of the Soviet Union and writes with amazing detail about Mongolia.

I’ll try to do a full review once I’m done but this book is so cool I thought I’d share now.  It’s a travel book, history book, anthopological volume, and religious document all at once.  Becker describes his travels in chapters of themes, with one devoted to really creepy/cool shamanism, another to Buddhism, another to Mongolia under communism, etc. etc.  Of course there is one about Genghis Khan (which I am reading right now) but the point of the book is to stay away from broad stereotypes and delve into the minutiae of everyday life in post-communist Mongolia, much like a blog would.

World cup in a ger(yurt)

Here is a list of stuff I’ve already learned about and I’m only halfway through:

• Marshal Choibalsan
• Shamanism in Mongolia
• Kumis
• Inner Mongolia
• Mongolian stamps
• Shambala
• Blue, blue, blue skies and open land

And here are  some more really cool pictures from Mongolia because I am getting inexplicable wanderlust again.

A couple of weeks ago, my parents and Mr. B’s mom came to celebrate my mom’s birthday by biking 30 miles on the Mt. Vernon Trail, because nothing says “it’s a day of celebration” to my mom and mother-in-law like not being able to walk for a week. It’s like jointly turning 25 really sent them over the edge.

The first part went really well. Everyone was pumped and cycling under cloudless blue skies through charming downtown Alexandria, by the Potomac River and generally being happy and alive and all that bullshit.

Fortunately, about halfway through the trek just as my muscles were about to ask for refugee status from my body, the parents became distracted like cats on ADD because MUSHROOMS.

If you have ever met a Russian immigrant in North America, mushrooms are Big Deal.  In fact, in a recent survey of things they miss about living in Russia, immigrants place hunting for mushrooms just above free socialized healthcare.  Because the temperatures never get cool enough in the American Northeast, there are never any really good mushrooms to hunt.  So the rare mushroom provides as much excitement as a Bieber sighting.

Fortunately, after they were done evaluating the mushrooms, we were able to continue and finish the ride.

I could say a bunch of stuff about how exciting it is to be able to do really physical stuff with my parents at a time when both they and I do it willingly and appreciate it, or how awesome my mother-in-law is, or how much  I love spending time with my family, but for now I think I’ll just post this picture of Mr. B and my mom’s laser mushroom-honing eyes.

Yesterday Mr. B and I went to see the Nationals play the Cardinals at Nationals Park in D.C. and it was an amazing night.  The weather was PERFECT, the full moon was out, watching the game, and the Nationals, known for being really awful, actually won.  I played softball for 10 years so baseball is one of the only sports I understand and can watch for more than an hour.

Baseball is one of those intrinsically American things you don’t appreciate until you start thinking about other countries’ characteristics.  France has sitting in cafes for hours at a time,  the Middle East has hookah on rooftops, and America has baseball.  You will see a crosscut of Real Americans at baseball games, and it’s pretty amazing if you stop and think about it.

One of the benefits of baseball stadium lighting is that I can look all dramatic.

From the blogs:

1. Very touching on family names coming full circle. The key to the dilemma here is, of course, choosing a name that sounds good in Hebrew, Russian, and English (there are exactly three names in this category.)
2. Cute hat time!
3. A movie I’m excited to watch
4. I love old pictures
5. Why we can’t get rid of our stuff

From the internet:

1. Are you ready for some really pretentious pictures?
2. The saddest data ever
3. Complaining about how people don’t read women writers
4. If you are familiar with consulting, you will love this post
5. I love how this article congratulates her, but puts her down at the same time
6. A cute book for your kids
7. I’ve been reading a book about Mongolia lately, so here’s some travel porn
8. Good news! There is now a shortcut into heaven
9. And here’s some linguistics porn
10. Hungover owls.