Took new boots for a spin around the neighborhood this evening. I am almost as happy with them as I was with my previous pair of Eccos, which I wore until the leather cracked and the inner soles showed through the treads. The new ones feel heavier, and like there's more padding around my instep and ankles. They feel a bit like ice skates - from what I know of ice skates when C. and I went to Yost Arena precisely once - I'm not likely to twist an ankle in these babies.
In 1995 I purchased a cassette in Russia. The artist - Leonid Agutin - became one of the hottest Russian stars of the late 90's with his album "Бocoнoгий Maльчиk." Everyone knew Agutin's songs - my room mate and her friends. Young relatives of the Russian women from my workplace in Columbus. My date from Vladivostock. Now, the lyrics are just about the only Russian I can easily verbalize. I've been terrified that the cassette might be eaten by my aging equipment and the bouncy, Latin-tinged pop tunes be lost to me forever, leaving Leonid to gaze voicelessly from his red liner notes as a cultural artifact of the era's particular brand of eastern European beefcake. (What is that bizarre, chest-hair revealing denim thing he's wearing?) I fear no longer! One of my periodic searches for Leonid turned up "Бocoнoгий Maльчиk" available through an Amazon partner retailer, and he arrived in CD format in my mailbox this afternoon.
Woodchuck Amber hard cider pairs quite nicely with shrimp quesadillas.
One thing (good or bad?) about drinking lots of 8 and 9% ABV Belgians is that soon you can down two or three Woodchuck Ambers without even noticing.
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