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I moved to a new blog, Creaky Pavilion. It will be written, as the old one, in Russian And English (and undoubtedly, with numerous errors in both), and my archives are duplicated in the new place for yours and mine convenience.
Please come and visit.

Мой новый блог называется Скрипучая беседка; писать я буду, как и здесь, переходя с четверть-забытого русского на и-в-половину-неизученый английский, Архивы, для нашего общего удобства, сдублированы.

Пожалуйста, заходите, буду рада.


May. 16th, 2013 07:36 pm
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Ну что, бьём в барабаны, зовём трубой?
В жуже мне ничего не показывают, читала пару раз чужую ленту- - но и там комментарии не открываются, да и за своими соскучилась.
Подавайте голоса, гр-не перебежчики
eta_ta: (foxie)
Ну да, это я, на общую тему.
Кто ещё не спрятался не перебрался в dreamwidth: пора, мой друг.
Жужа уже не просто барахлит, а фурычит с перебоями. Где ж я вас читать-то буду, а? И какже вы переживёте без моих 2х коп?
Переселяйтесь и прицепляйтесь там - ник тот же, eta_всё та же _та.
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Этот пост - на случай, если вы последовали советам и перебрались, а потом "дали доступ" к своему журналу -  и теперь мы опять можем начать чесать языками.
Я вам рада!
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Ну что, ЖЖ, похоже, гавкнулся. Вернётся, нет ли - неизвестно; на всяк случай подаю голос здесь - для тех, кто не читает мой основной блог.
Не теряйтесь, пишите письма, граждАне и граждАнки!
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По утрам ЖЖ отказывается фурычить; похоже, это теперь правило. Иногда и после обеда барахлит. Кажется, настают Последние Дни...эй, кого ж я буду читать? отзовитесь, перешедшие в домик
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Желающие этих танцулек: смотрите сюда


Всем, много, и пусть никто не уйдёт
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приметьте моё местечко вот тут рядом

Нет, писать я и там ничего не буду, но вы можете там добавить мой блог с Wordpress в feeds, и будете исправно получать мои очередные писульки. Лично мне такой кружный вид коммуникации кажется излишним (почему б не напрямую, как мои подписчики?), но были высказаны возражения, а за ними пожелания - так что пожалуйста, есть у вас и такая опция.
Дайте знать и со своей стороны, когда переберётесь: надо же мне где-то вас читать. Нынешняя контора, по всему видать, на последнем издыхании.
И не забудьте дать мне там Access! А то я ваших подзамочных постов не увижу. Своих у меня там не будет совсем: я пишу в другом месте (я знаю, что вы помните, это для тех кто не)

Those who decides to move to Dreamwidth: here's my address there:

You can enter my Wordpress blog in Feeds and you'll receive new posts regularly. Of course, a direct approach would be subscribing to my blog - but some LJ users voiced displease with WP registering procedures, so here's another way for you to keep in touch.
Don't forget to include me in your Circles so I can read your posts there. And give me Access, or I'll not see your "under lock" posts. Reminder: my own are open to all, but they are in a different place (where you are always welcome)

See you...when I see you
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Сказали - я и сделала. See you on a flip side, ага.
Это в в [очень сомнительном] случае если Wordpress пропадёт, и мой там домик сгорит синим пламенем.


Jun. 2nd, 2010 12:17 pm
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Да, я делаю исключение. Чтоб как можно больше людей увидели этого мальчика.

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Нашёлся добрый человек [ profile] inka, сделал(а) syndicated ссылку на мой блог - для вашего удобства. Внесите в ленту и читайте на здоровье.

Ваша Та - которая Эта

PS На комментарии, однако, буду отвечать там, сюда не пишите, ладно? Потому - как ниже сказано - переехала я. Насовсем.
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Have to interrupt my silence, this is too irritating to pass.

A loud noise had disturbed my peaceful Saturday breakfast at 10am. There were shouts and drumbeat on the street, half-a-block away. From my window I could only see a parked patrol car, so I grabbed my camera and went outside to find out.

I have written about this subject before, here. Apparently, the story continues, see this Brooklyn Paper article.

I went outside, took my few shots at the Big Crowd Of Enraged Citizens (of about 15-20, as you can see).

Then went across the street, to take a picture of that townhouse the article described - the owner of which is concerned about its structural integrity after the demo will start. Understandably, I must say.
There was a woman coming from that house' steps, handing me a paper and asking if I knew what's up. I mistakenly thought she lives in that house and politely took the paper. Then she started spewing dirt about the developer who is buying the parcel. "He's a known slam-lord", she said. "He's going to build CONDO instead of this pretty church! He's employing same architect for condos as one for new church! Same one he's using for his slams! Did you hear about it?" Yes I did,- I said - as is the architect's and developer's right to form a collaboration on all projects. I also heard the developer and the church authorities are planning to build a new church building - green one, btw. And I mean - environmentally "green", not preserving this green plague of a building".

She screamed. She recognized the class enemy they all were waiting for, so long, in the cold! She pointed finger at me and yelled "you are the plague!" Then ran to her buddies in ecstasy of found purpose. I turned and started for home. When I saw her waving her hands in rapture, in communication with other demonstrants, and pointing at me, I went to the group (the listeners immediately dissolved) and said: You insulted me personally. You have a dirty mouth." She denied she ever said what I heard, not a minute before. Of course. The police car was right there, why risk it?
I wanted to stop at police car to ask them for how long my peace will be disturbed by these clowns (there was a woman with megaphone, shouting "Bay Ridge, wake up! We will wake you! We are not going anywhere!" Indeed.)

Instead, on my way there, I was stopped by a girl with a stationary camera who was filming the scene. She said she's from Channel 12 and asked me if I wouldn't mind to be interviewed on camera. As I was unpresentable (remember, I jumped out of a house in practically my pajamas when my breakfast was so rudely interrupted), I declined. We continued talking while I was waiting for the light to change - why, she asked, am I for demolition? "By all the reasons voiced by Brooklyn Paper's correspondent
Matthew Lysiak", I said. "I would add that this building has no architectural value, unlike the beautifully proportional Deco Lutheran Church across the street. Not all old buildings are worth preserving. This one isn't."
The screaming fur-wearing pinkie saw me talking to a reporter and couldn't pass the chance; she flew to us immediately. "Are you a resident of this neighborhood? Do you respect our values? Our landmarks?" I could respond that the building is not considered a landmark by an authoritative commission (made up of liberals, too. That might tell you how even they can't see anything of value in this green monster), but I just didn't want to hear her screeching voice anymore. And left, forgetting my intention to go to the cops. The shouts behind my window continued until 11:45am

My Saturday is ruined, damn it!
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Как принято в канун нового года, я тоже подведу итоги.
Начиная писать в этот журнал, я сомневалась в успехе затеи. Прошло около 2х лет, и я убедилась что мои опасения подтвердились.

Любопытство, интерес, желание разделить мысли с созвучными людьми, даже некоторое остроумие (заметное, в основном, только мне самой) видные в начале этих записок, постепенно сошли на нет. Дружбы, неоднократно начинавшиеся с энтузиазмом, заканчивались (иногда после нескольких личных встреч), неминуемым отвращением. МФК Фишер написала где-то в "Искусстве есть", что она приглашает к себе на продуманный обед только избранных, числом никак не больше 6. Восемь - перебор, а десять - катастрофа. Я нарушила это мудрое правило многажды. В выборе гостей, как и в выборе блюд.

С нового года этот журнал будет использоваться только как ключ к чтению.

This is my last post in this journal. Starting new year I will use it only as means for reading journals of others.

Good bye.
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*This is your quality time with your body. Clean-up time. Getting away with those bags of useless crap your auntie brought you from the country and you politely stored. Clean-up and be curious.

*Welcome to the inner tights' land! It's Sunshine State, a wonder State where the more stretched you are, more power to you.

*Hands on the knees, pull the knees apart towards the floor. Groin ventilation time. We all need it, trust me on that.

[there was more of his wisdom, but I was too distracted monitoring my breathing. Sadly]
eta_ta: (foxie)
[this post will be hanging up here for a while - till I make the decision]

So, what do we have so far?

My old photo storage site now offer blogging platform:
There is also - concept similar to LJ

Blogger (blogspot) since some time ago started associate itself, in comment section and log-in, with Google - which, knowing Google reputation with censorship in foreign countries, isn't exactly encouraging. But the platform is there.

About two other popular platforms - TypePad and Wordpress: see here.

12/10: Thanks to 2Blowhards, I just learned about this great platform, [not to be confused with WordPress]. Looks terrific, so far.
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I've spent good part of the day at a Xmas party in a good friends' house, just like last year. More party rambling below )
The matriarch of the family, a celebrated poet of 86, is always interesting to talk to. I waited for a break from her preoccupation with all of her offspring's families and striked a conversation on most non-political topic imaginable: cooking. (Having periodically lived in France, being married to a Frenchman once and having published a book of translations, she's the most qualified person on topic of food appreciation). I mentioned being fascinated by MFK Fisher, by her writing and life and that I find "The Art of Eating" a terrific book, and I was unexpectedly rewarded to hear, in response:
-that Mrs.N used to know Mary F.Kennedy Fisher
-that all this buzz about MFK triggering J.Child's and J.Beard's interest in gastronomy is a patent lie.
-Mrs. N knows is for sure, because she recalls one particular soirée that Mrs Childs was giving in her Paris apartment; at the time her husband was some sort of a diplomat or employed by any of UN branch organizations, and Julia (who was Mrs.N's friend) was nervous since she was just starting her culinary career and she was serving particular cheese-based pastry of her devise. MFK wasn't there even in spirit.
-that MFK was an unpleasant person. And no wonder: she came from a Southern family, and most low and unpleasant Southern family - staunch Republicans of the worst kind. [me, meekly: "from her books I got the impression MFK was very a-political..."] Yes, she was, but the way you're raised stays with you always, don't you agree?
-that Mrs. N was working in Doubleday bookstore in Paris, when "How to cook a Wolf" came out. And "I could always tell when the person walking towards the register got her book - they all had this smirk on their faces, very characteristic. You see, in this book she took a tone, particularly towards Class, that is very American. Very unusual for European point or view. And she was delivering all these essays about cooking as a novel concept for upper classes - never betraying her origins. As if she belonged!

It's agemagem. Or, as my friend said - What did you expect? It's my mother! She knew them all.
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I'll cross-post my answers from the comments thread @Chicago Boyz. Anyone who wants to take part go there for full list of questions.

Mine is a special case, so I’ll answer randomly.

1. Wrapping. Trying to express (ideally) in the wrapping materials, including tape, card and ribbon, the personality of the addressee and the nature of the gift inside. Gifts are for New Year - I don’t celebrate religious holidays.

2. Real tree - when my son was little. Together with the smell of clementines (traditional decoration, along with walnuts wrapped in golden foil), the smell of the evergreens is the essence of the holiday. Now I sometimes make arrangements of branches with good candles and a small table centerpiece for New Year supper.

5. No. Glintwein instead.

10. A Christmas Story. Never fails to send me ROFL.

12. Every year - a new dish on the table (among tried and true), to symbolize openness to new things that come to us with New Year.

16. Nothing annoying, everything’s terrific: I don’t shop for presents and the tree with the mobs, I start day after Xmas, when the streets and stores are mine for taking and the salespeople are most agreeable. And the New Year’s night is the most beautiful holiday of the year - what’s not to like?


Dec. 22nd, 2007 02:35 pm
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where did I see it before?

"As the search progressed, the fire inspector found himself in the kitchen. Porridge was cooking in a large copper pot and gave off the smell that the smooth operator had noticed in the hall. Ostap wrinkled his nose and said:
"What is it cooking in? Lubricating oil?"
"It's pure butter, I swear it is", said Alchen, blushing to the roots of his hair. "We buy it from the farm".

The source.
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Дойдите до танца с метлой. И выдохните весь сор что накопился у вас в душе за этот год.

Watch the Dance with the Broom. And exhale all debris that descended on your soul this past year.
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