By some people the meal itself is a long delay between the appetizer and the dessert.
When it's all over and the on the air signs go off there isn't a more lost feeling in the world. The wonderful, exciting, even glamorous, studio is now just a room dirty with coffee cartons and cigarette butts.
It's such a corrosive chemical: fame.
I'm a firm believer in anxiety and the power of negative thinking.
So the legs are little short, the knees maybe knock a little but who listens?
Borscht is more than a soup, it's a weather vane. When my family says they want hot borscht I know winter is coming, and when they want cold borscht I know how far can spring be behind?