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I Am Not The Only One...
I'm Back! Did Ya Miss Me?
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Weddings in Winter
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Gailyn Goes to Town
Is There a Central Bank?
Santa Barbara is Real
Nick's Thanksgiving in Russia
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Those Crazy Expats
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Elections Are Always Rigged
The Blind Leading the Blind
Good Russian Grooms
You Say 'Boris Berezovskiy' Fast
Too Cold to Care!
Russian Oil Towns
Sneaky Siberian Tigers
Which Way is St Peterburg?
Where am I again? Oh, yeah...
I Love Me Some Vodka
It's a Gosorg Halloween
Hunger Comes to Us All
Why Don't They Just Learn English?!
Post-Crisis, Life Goes On
Is Yeltsin 'The Man'?
Murmansk - Brrrr!
Taganka Hides Her Secrects
These are Communists
It's a Power Vaccum
The Commies are Back
Propaganda is Good for You
You Better Buy Russian!
Sex Ed Soviet Style
Party over, oops outta time!
Russian Healthcare in Moscow
What Russian Financial Crisis?
YE Prices in Russia
The Hungry Duck
Russian Caviar Mafia
Magical Mushrooms
Shhhh! We're Bear Hunting
Soviet Street Scams
Bez Dollarov
A Koshka Konspiracy
On The Dacha
The Banking Implosion
Surviving Army Life
Shashleek is Steak on Steroids
Dacha Thinking
Beach Weekend
Dos Vedanya
Hello from Vladivostok
Equality Means Only She Works
Jogging is an Extreme Sport
Russians Have Reunions Too
My Folks in Massive Moscow
Better than Fireworks
Miners Are Real Men
The Russian Mafia is the Roof
No One Smiles in the CIS
One Year Anniversary
Russian Brides Rock
Laura is My St Pete Connection
Change is in the Wind
Chuck Norris' Beverly Hills Casino
The Expat Woman's Predicament
Street Food is Yummy!
Spring Flowers Make June Leavers
The Provinces Are Provincial
Ever Take an Elektrichka?
The English Invasion
Nuttin Like New Money
Rules Are Made to Break
All Black is Russian Fashion
Politics, Russian Style
Theresa Tries to Russify
I Go to Gay Clubs Worldwide
I Hide on Women's Day
New & Shiny: Nizhny Novgorod
Psst! Wanna job in Moscow?
Fili Park Has All the Bootlegs
Web Page Reactions
Take a Break at Dom Odaha
Expat Living in Moscow is Swank
Why Are You Remonting?
They Look Like Telephones...
In Need of a Decent Hairstylist
Smashing Bottles in Red Square

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Russia, April 13, 1998

Easter Memories = Easter Dinner

Easter is a time for eating, not praying!

Sweeping the memories away
Cleaning out those memories
Catholic Easter was last Sunday. (It was also the week of the Islamic Haijj, the annual pilgrimage to Mecca.) As I was writing a thank you email to the gracious hostess of Easter dinner, I noticed that all my of Easter memories are of Easter dinners. My family is not know for its church attendance, we are more spiritual than religious, so my only church memories are of me falling asleep at midnight mass once, and a random service here or there. My real memories of Easter are home cooked dinners and vibrant discussions not religious services.

Last night, as I helped in the kitchen of a friend from work as she prepared dinner for eight, all the memories of Easters past came forth. I could not help but remember my mother's cooking, and how much I associate 'home cooking' with family love. She is the unrivaled master chef (you think someone's gonna rate above Mom?!) of Easter dinner. I can remember specific dishes, but it is the overall feeling of happiness when she cooked, that I cherish. My Mom's cooking came back to me two Easters ago, when I had Easter dinner with the family of a young lady I was dating at the time. Her mother came close to rivaling my own, and made me realize how 'Southern' my Mom's cooking was. Shredded carrots, raisins, and the mysterious sauce is a desert only someone with the appropriate accent can produce.

Last Easter I dined with the family of my (now) ex-girlfriend. I accompanied the family to the service before dinner, and enjoyed the following Easter egg hunt, but last night I noticed something was missing from both of the last two Easter gatherings. Last night, as we discussed the horrors of oppression and genocide, a painful but relevant topic for Easter (JC was a victim of both after all), I recalled the many great discussions I have had on the timeless subjects in life at my family's Easter dinner. Discussions, conversations where positions are taken, life's quandaries are examined, and strong beliefs are questioned, were a common occurrence in the Vota household and whose ever household was foolish enough to invite us over.

In refection, I think I actually went to church last night, a temple of worship, where good food and good discussions, surrounded by good friends is the path to happiness.

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