More future physicists drinking beers. You had to drink em when you found em.
This (the one who has more hair) is my father drinking some beers in Moscow.
Barely.
But, you guys. Yesterday my dad picked me up and he was all happy about something, turns out he got an email and it’s his department’s 35th Reunion this May (I asked him “so some people are probably bald eh? to which he replied “some are even dead”, followed by momentary sad silence/thanking my imaginary creator my father is still alive thoughts in the car) but they also sent him this link with all these old photos and he was excited to show them to me “because I like retro stuff”. God knows I do.
THE PHOTOS ARE BALLER. I will post some here as soon as I convince myself it’s okay to post my father’s and his friends photos on the internet without their permission. I imagine it will take about two days.
But, also. We were looking at the photos and about 5 minutes in the inevitable sigh came, first from my dad, then from my mom (though I imagine for very different reasons, which is amazing because even between people who have lived together for more than 25 years there is this infinite space of memories and regrets and disappointments), followed by “I think those were better times.” I think so too. And that makes me very sad, but not in a hopeless way. More like in an anxious way.
Parents, man. You really want the best for their past.
(Source: spatiotemporalcookies)
(while watching this)
My grandmother: Why don’t you move like that?
Me: (silence)
My grandmother: Look how flat her tummy is.
Me: (continued silence)
The making of an apple pie for my parents, featuring butter (dialogue with mother: -Mom, do we have margarine? -We don’t do margarine, use butter), (dialogue with father, passing by: -Don’t you think this looks a little too much? -No.), the end product, and the powder sugar sifter, which I learned is one of the two things at that house that are the products of the Yerevan Something Something Factory. The other one is a jezve, which I learned that my mom was at one point planning on putting on ebay in hopes of capitalizing on some poor Armenian’s nostalgia. The pie was awesome. My dad said it was a little underbaked (it wasn’t), my mom said I should have used a smaller dish (she told me we didn’t have one).
My grandma (who was born in 1930): Nigar, could you switch this channel (Euronews) to Russian?
Me: (I guess what she means is “could you switch this to the Russian channel?) Sure, here.
MGWWBI1930: No, I mean, could you switch Euronews to Russian? There should be a language option.
Me: I have had this TV for 15 years I don’t think it… oh. There is a language option, with Russian. Here, world news.
MGWWBI1930: Thanks. I’m just used to watching this everyday.
Me: O_O
Podцvet is под цвет written weird. It means "(a color) that matches (other colors)."
(I also keep these: Translation Therapy and For Love of the Caucasus)
