Molly and I love Russia. Her fascination with the coldest, most depressing country in the world started in college, when she discovered vodka read Hedda Gabbler. The book moved her to try to become, in her words, “a Russian bitch.” Vodka just made her drunk.
My love affair goes all the way back to my early childhood, when my father used to convince me to do things by calling me a communist “Only communists stay up past their bedtime,” he would say. “Only communists refuse to eat their vegetables.” Instead of turning me from communism, his mind games made me wish to become a Soviet.
Molly and I don’t know very much about Russia. Oh sure, we’ve read Russian novels, watched the occasional PBS documentary about the Romonovs, but we’re hardly experts. We’re not even sure how to say ‘Yes’ in Russian. (Answer: Da. How did we not know that?)
So on Memorial Day we’re packing our bags, donning fluffy fur hats and traveling all the way to: RUSSIA!!
Okay, so we’re not going this Memorial Day. We’re going Memorial Day 2011. You see, going to Russia is a very time consuming and difficult process. We need an entire year to plan. We have to:
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