Monday odds and ends

My hair was up all morning--I hadn't rearranged it since I put it up when I went to bed--and I took it down when we left to go for a walk, but mom didn't say anything either way. Maybe she got the message that I got the message?

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My first day here, dad asked if I wanted herring (the only answer, for multiple reasons, was "of course not"). The next day, he asked if I wanted sour cream in my soup. Same answer. Mom asked what was wrong with sour cream; I said, "first and foremost, it tastes nasty." Really. When I order vegan quesadillas at Busboys and Poets I always ask them to hold the vegan sour cream; occasionally they get confused and bring me sour cream anyway because they think I didn't realize it was vegan sour cream. But I digress. Herring and sour cream are two Russian staples that I wouldn't eat if they were the happiest, most sustainable foods on earth.

Over lunch,

Dad: Do you want cheese?
Mom: Me, or A.?
Dad: You. A. doesn't do cheese.
Mom: That's right. What's wrong with cheese? What would you do with all the cows?
Dad: Either way, I wasn't offering her cheese.
A.: As [my friends say to their three-year old], "Aunt A. doesn't like cheese."
Dad: There's an old Russian joke: an alcoholic goes to the zoo and sees a camel in its enclosure. There's a sign that says, "the camel doesn't drink for three days." The guy says, "poor animal!" That's, like, an old schoolyard joke.

Yes, my friends: Russian school-children make alcoholic jokes like it's the most normal thing in the world.