There's a house down the road (Not the McDo road, the supermarket road. We live on a crossroads, so there's lots of roads to go down.) that caught our attention today. It's got a flea market going on inside, even though the official sign says it stocks Russian specialties. It's open when you call it, any day, and there are lots of different and random things you can see through the windows. We tried calling, but no one answered. Too bad.
One thing caught my attention. It had a bicycle inside. A bicycle with a luggage rack. It even seemed to be in good condition. So now my head is full of bicycle. I want one. I want to explore the city on it. I want to fit a bottle holder on it, put my drinking bottles in it and let the wind catch my growing hair. Because bicycles are freedom. I guess cars are, too, but bikes are all I can legally use, and they're much cheaper to maintain.
Boyfriend's eye was caught by the Matrosjka dolls. He loves the things, the way the little women fit into the bigger women and come out and come out and come out until you end up with a teensy-tiny Russian lady. He has one set, but they're nowhere near as big as the ones he saw in the store. So he is dreaming of those. We still have room on top of one of the living room bookshelves, so I don't see why he shouldn't be allowed his dreams, too.
I wonder if we'll go back to the store tomorrow and try calling again. Maybe they'll be there. Maybe the bike will be cheap. Maybe it will be mine. I'd love for it to be.
Go for it. :)
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