The 12th Time I Turned 21

birthday, bitches! i’m a little late on this, but my 33rd birthday came and went recently, leaving me a year older, none the wiser and a little more wrinkly. this may come as a shocker, but this is the oldest i’ve ever been and what’s more shocking is that i’m OK with it.


birthday breakfast: the morning of my birthday, Mo asked what i wanted to eat, saying he would make it for me. in true toddler fashion i yelled, “i want birthday cake for breakfast!” so he whipped up some french toast and drenched it in syrup and strawberry preserves. and with a candle and birthday song, my big day was underway.


what i came home to: the big day, which fell on a friday this year, was spent off of work and out of the house, indulging in whatever decadence my aging heart desired. this meant a steam room visit, hour-long massage and shopping spree in which i bought many cute tops. when i came home, dinner was on the table.


Chef Mo: i’ve always dreamed of having a personal chef and Mo made it happen this year by gifting me his kitchen skills for the day, which produced impressive food that tasted even better than it looked.


the starter: we began with some lovely cold cream of avocado soup that, surprisingly, tasted nothing like guacamole and more like delicious.


the main event: then came the red snapper fillet, which was dusted with cajun seasonings for a little kick, served over brabant potatoes, also kicky.


more cake! dessert was Mo’s mom’s amazing rice fritters recipe, deep fried and sprinkled with sugar, which made for one fat and happy birthday girl.


time for refuel: after dinner, i desperately needed to nap, but Mo and i had a party to go to, so we down some red bull and brought out the tequila.


not really: as a russian, i prefer vodka to tequila, so Raidis had to do my shot for me, which she perfected many times over. she also had to host our combined annual birthday party, as my house still isn’t ready for primetime.


we’re not pregnant: we’re just hiding rice fritters under our tops.


however, Ali is pregnant: and here’s Deo kindly providing her unborn child an initiation into the life he can look forward to living. lucky kid.


kitchen antics: Jessica, Juan and Joe confirm that the alcohol was in the kitchen.


meanwhile: people with drinks also made it outdoors, where they laughed and socialized and had a good time that didn’t result in the police showing up.


no, my forehead! Zee is under the mistaken impression that her forehead is too imposing, to which i say, “tyra.”


another one: apparently, Marina does not like her profile, to which i say, “oprah.”


this is how you do it: Raidis and Cassie, who hadn’t seen each other for many years, provided the miles of smiles.


Buck and Ann also ham: there are a few more party photos here.


the sexy chef and i: we stayed at the party far too late, wrapping up the night after 3am before heading home and collapsing into bed with a belly full of rice fritters. in short, a delicious day in every way.

The Return of the Love Note

i can't believe that it's been over a year since i posted one of these love notes. apparently Mo has been slacking with his dry-erase board drawing duties, but i think i may have found one of his sweet spots that reduces him to putty in my hand. i won't disclose much of it here beyond saying that it involves buying him beer and cooking him bacon.

The House-Hunting Chronicles: My Dream House

still working on it...

Giving to Love

Box of Cute

Days & Nights

Meanwhile...

Honk! In the Name of Love

i know that if i saw this shit online somewhere, i would roll my eyes and do that finger-in-throat vomit gesture, but on my blog it’s kinda sweet.

love, in fact, is very sweet, in case you don’t already know. it’s what the world needs now. love, sweet love. it’s the only thing that there’s too little of. that shit that lights you up from the inside. that special person who wants to do you despite your gangly tooth and bunions. the giddiness of approaching a closed door that holds your boo on the other side. it’s so singular, and worth the messy breakups and tear-stained pillows that accompany it.

i’d like to say that i never knew love before now, but that’s unfair and inaccurate. truth is that i’ve had lengthy, healthy relationships with wonderful men who’ve made me a better girlfriend. through them, i learned the delicate art of compromise and communication and how to be more giving and less prideful. tough stuff for a chick like me.

and Mo’s also had some luck in that arena, particularly with the ultra-feminist ex-girlfriend who made him spend six months reading only books written by women. that did much to advance his knowledge of the female psyche, making him more attuned and understanding, a sensitive – but not pansy – man capable of embracing emotion. i’d like to send her a thank-you card.

exes always make us better for our next relationship. they teach us about ourselves and help us grow into our skin, providing a backdrop for behavioral trial and error, where we can work out our unconscious intimacy issues. those childhood slights that set us up for a lifetime of love drama. (as self-indulgent as psychoanalysis is, freud knew some stuff.)

i cringe when i think back to my first love and how clingy and unreasonable i was with him. but at that time, it seemed like the most natural way to be. just as it was most natural for him to be noncommittal at such a young age. and today, that amounts to nothing more than an anecdote highlighting youthful inexperience. first loves are overrated that way. they are quaint, but trivial – kind of like losing your virginity.

failure is meaningful. disappointment raises consciousness. and as much as i couldn’t see its value at the time, retrospect allows me to throw some gratitude toward it. what a joke love at 20 was. what a joke love at 30 will be when i reflect upon it at 40.

i probably don’t know as much about love as i think i do, but in my nearly 15 years of serial monogamy and occasional sluttiness, i have settled on a few maxims. (feel free to add your own in the comments.)

• timing really is everything: perhaps more apt: maturity is everything, though that’s a package deal with time. and failure. and disappointment. and eventual recovery.
• don’t push it: relationships take time to flower and their evolution should be organic. don’t badger anyone into marriage or force an emotion. rely on nature instead.
• every girl has daddy issues: mine aren’t too bad since my daddy hasn’t failed me much, but it’s no strange coincidence that i gravitate toward tall, commanding, dark-haired, handsome men with facial hair, when my pops is just that.
• never go for the cock block: a little jealousy is healthy, to be sure, but if someone wants to cheat, they will cheat and it’s better to just let them cheat and get that shit over with and exposed so you can move on from it.
• you know it when you see it: love doesn’t need to be ambiguous or complicated. it pretty much is or isn’t there, and you either feel it or you don’t. instincts help with this one.
• men are literal: unlike women, there is no need to read between the lines and no reason not to be direct. taking that a step further is my mama, who once told me: Men are simple creatures with a few basic drives – if he’s not horny, give him a sandwich.
• the self-evident: in a healthy relationship, it’s important to have trust, respect, integrity, honesty, open communication, a solid friendship, common interests, shared values, etc, etc. the shit you’ve heard elsewhere.
• touch each other: affection and good sex enable intimacy, and both should be kept in great supply. orgasms induce happiness and make people much more agreeable in love and in life. after all, the physical is what distinguishes a romantic relationship from a friendship. my happily married parents still greet each other with a kiss and hold hands in public. that affection kept them glued to one another for over 35 years, both literally and figuratively.
• throw out the moldy bread: i know i’ve been guilty of hanging onto a relationship far past its expiration date, mostly out of fear that nothing better will come along, despite all the viable men walking the earth beside me.
• do the work: once you’ve settled on a piece of bread, don’t allow it to get moldy. butter it, toast it, smear honey on it – do whatever it takes to keep it nourishing.

lately for me, love has been a paradise. and my boyfriend Mo has been my favorite person. he seems to have procured a rare copy of “my manual” with its “special handling instructions” that call for the perfect mix of intimacy and independence. he’s an impressive, commanding character, and i am thoroughly enchanted. it’s the love notes and beyond. he lights me up from the inside.

and i am so thankful for the past, with all its bad and good lessons learned, for giving me the tools and know-how for dealing with my terrific now.

Box o' Treacle

Glove Love

The Situation Has Worsened

The Love Note I Awoke To

thanks, Momo!