I think the title says it all. I made borscht tonight. There was a time, years ago, when I didn't know borscht from a hole in the ground. Then I moved to Manhattan to work for the Times and New York hated the girl from Florida. I showed up with 10 pairs of flip-flops (you know, a pair for every occasion from semi-formal to hella casual) and it was all of 55 degrees. Oh, how i Pained and cried and sobbed over the phone until Rue saved me with a stolen blanket fromt he Lowes hotel. Warmer and with some Kathy Ireland socks from K-mart around the corner, I trundled my confused flu-wracked body two confusing blocks until I ran into Veselka, the Ukrainian diner. It was 4 ayem. And the cooks only spoke Ukranian, the servers were surly and the only soup I saw on the menu was Borscht and I ordered it and I felt instantly better. Ta-DA!
So, i kept getting borscht - hot, cold, with that wheat stuff that makes it taste like sawdust. My homie Tony even loved me enough one Christmas to get me an entire set of Veselka plates, bowls and coffee cups. Heaven is borscht. And jell-o is yummy, especially when the company prepares it for you.
And now I'm into watching Dance Movies. Oer the weekend I watched Step Up, Centerstage, and Take the Lead is on now. After surgery I'm going to take Tango lessons and I'm going to dance my stupid heart out again. It's been...5 years since I danced my heart out because something was wrong just a wee bit south of the heart. But now, more than anything I want to feel that fire in my blood. I'll not get ahead of myself, but dammit I'm going to dance again!
Love, kisses and Merengue!
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