Borscht for Lunch

Tuesday, January 04, 2056, 2pm

It is still snowing. Tanya, my beautiful wife, is in the kitchen making borscht, or Ukrainian beet soup. The only way this day could get better would be if Anastasiya could come over to visit.

The snow continues to fall. Most people aren’t working today so it is rather quiet outside. I look at the paths that people take. Most of the paths are not where the sidewalks have been built. I think the city planning department could learn from the people themselves where they want their sidewalks. They could wait until a good snowfall and then plan the cities sidewalks according to where people actually want to walk. Of course, that will never happen.

I can see Tanya and talk to her from here in the living room while she is cooking her borscht. One of the best things that we did to this apartment before we moved in was to tear down the wall separating the kitchen from the living room. That change has made for a much cozier apartment.

I always chuckle a bit when I have a bowl of Tanya’s borscht with black bread. I love it so much. I can’t believe how much I used to hate beets when I was little. Thanksgiving used to be a particular time that my mother used to afflict me with that dish. I guess most foods are enjoyable if they are prepared right.

I have a little stack of books here by me, just in case Anastasiya drops by. Or I guess I should say “is dropped by,” since she is only four years old. I have the books that I used to read to my daughter Julia when she was the same age. The Cat in the Hat; One Fish, Two Fish; Three Billy-Goats; Little Red Riding Hood; The Fisherman and his Wife; The Gingerbread Man; and, a few others. Anastasiya usually makes me read all of them in one sitting. Just like her grandmother Julia used to do.

Aha! Speak of the devil. Anastasiya has arrived.

Well, I certainly could use a lot more days like today.