This weekend was a little weird. I had a sore throat all day Saturday, but didn't let that stop me from hanging out with Polly (and some other people for a riveting game of Risk-- the Russian version. Fortunately I was not vulnerable to being confused by the massive differences, since the only things I knew about Risk to begin with were from Seinfeld). During the game, in fits of boredom, we started writing notes to each other in Russian, it was very reminiscent of middle school (or even college, in my case) and provided some entertainment. Here is a sample of our craftsmanship:
you're actually better off if you can't understand how retarded this is, which is wicked retaaaaded.
Polly and I were dubbed Team America (obviously) and most of our strategy involved unreasonably stockpiling armies in obscure areas, like Madagascar, or Iceland and occasionally chanting "U-S-A! U-S-A!" if we managed to defeat an opposing army (it's all left up to chance with die rolling. If only it were that simple in real life). Eventually (not all that late, actually) we made it back to her apartment where, due to my illness and bad past experiences, I offered to sleep on the living room floor. The thin mattress we pulled out of her couch bed was comfortable enough, but I spent the night having bizarre dreams bordering on nightmares and getting up to hock loogies (eeewwwwww). By the time I woke up in the morning, I had a full blown head cold. I made my way home and spent the day lying in bed and watching movies. Speaking of which, I saw Fargo for the first time, which was excellent. Anyway, at some point I decided to try pouring warm salt water in my nose-- something my mom is constantly on my case about doing--and, I have to say, I am a total convert. I felt about a billion times better every time I did that. It works freaking miracles. I highly recommend it for any head congestion issues.
I also spent the afternoon roasting some pork shoulder I'd bought last week (for the purpose of making mexican food) then turning it into pulled pork. In a fit of homesickness, I even went as far as to make a ghetto bbq sauce (it was some combination of ketchup, mustard, apple cider vinegar, brown sugar, and soy sauce, which sounds totally gross but was fairly convincing) for it. Having spent about 4 hours in the oven, it was super tender and delicious. This is the finished product (what I didn't eat, anyway):
Feeling like eating the pulled pork on it's own was kind of sad, I decided to make a loaf of bread. I ran out of yeast not too long ago (hard to believe), so I went out on a limb and decided to follow a simple soda bread recipe, but using rye flour. The end result was better than I had expected, and I couldn't stop myself from eating half the loaf before I got to taking a picture:
my awesome food photography skills (laugh) nearly conceal the fact that this has already been partially consumed
And here I uploaded this last picture even though it is irrelevant to this blog post. It was my breakfast a few weekends ago, the morning after Polly and I went to Dunkin Donuts. Mmm... donuts.
As good a way to end a blog post as any...