Cook's Corner -- Summer Sangria.

(From The Moscow Times)

From the Diary of a Mad Food Writer:

8 a.m. The breakfast table. "But it can't be that difficult to work at home," my husband insists, ignoring the cries of "Mama! Come wipe my popo!" emanating from the bathroom. "Just tell the children to play quietly so you can write," he adds, as our son suddenly topples, screaming, from his chair, grasping his father's tie with jam-smeared fingers to break his fall.

9:30 a.m. At the computer. The breakfast dishes have been cleared, bottoms wiped, tie stains removed and children told to play quietly. Suddenly, a commotion ensues downstairs. "Mama! Mama!" my daughter shouts. "You know I have to write a column," I yell back, "I told you only to bother me if it's important." "But Konstantin did kaka on the kitchen floor!"

Pushkin never had to deal with this, I mutter as I head back downstairs.

11 a.m. At the computer again, staring at the screen. CRASH!!! WAAAAHHHH!!! My daughter has pulled to the floor the kitchen drawer containing all the knives and sharp implements. The only casualties are my nerves.

2 p.m. I decide to abandon further attempts at column-writing and concentrate on housework instead. I've started a load of laundry and am straightening the kitchen when I become aware of a THUMP-CLUNK, THUMP-CLUNK noise coming from ...