24-XII-2024.
Forelast evening was not due a drink, but we felt a bout of insomnia. Being not in the mood for poor man's entertainment two evenings in a row, we decided to end the remaining two deci of pear in the bottle. Smooth, gliding, a real relaxative, but also dispells drowsiness. It happened to me before that I was under impression that I'll just crash into sleep by middle of first shot, and stayed so during the fourth. Now it was too cold o go out and pour the next bottle, so I rather remembered Mima. Why her? Well, apricot...
This fall when my class gathered at the garden, she brought that apricot, which she somehow managed to snatch, out of 60 liters distilled less then ten were still around. It went away quickly. When the gang dispersed, I decided to pack what they brought, or else it'd stay there, we aren't nighting there anymore (though the plan for the next year is to resume... after we had decided that this should be the last season before we sell it, then changed our mind just like we did about the old house, both would be too much contact with the state), before it sprouted legs.
We first drank Jasmina's, which was last year's. Same as it was before, somewhat milder than ours, nice taste, all fine. Then by mid october we switched to this Mima's. Um, it has potential but there's something amiss, it's too fresh. We sipped a little and put the rest back in the bottle. And then in november there was another occasion like this, tried it again, much better.
This time it was excellent, smacked right as it should. I'll have to tell her what a chance she missed, wasted an excellent rakija while it was still just good.
Some 4600 dinars arrived, via mail, from auntie Janja... under the old surname. Guess her postman wrote it so, the post office is within spitshot from her, they know each other a hundred years. There's no message on the slip, guess it was for some land lease again, which is a cunt's smoke of an amount, but there, she remembered me, just like last year. We aren't talking, by the way, ever since she was supposed to invite us to the annual remembrance daća for her husband but didn't. Either didn't organize it at all, or didn't invite us. We think she was amazed that we showed at the funeral, we were expected to be absent.
We spoke with all our children and saw almost all the grandchildren. Go still hasn't finished unpacking, but things are being put in their places. Nina was past her first review, with flying colors, so she'll work from home (though we bet among ourselves that she'll pick two days a week when to go to work). She put up one (plastic) fir for the kids in the playroom, by the deck door, and another small one in the girls' bedrooom, which she found by accident - must be Rein left it there when Fayes told him to get rid of it, he doesn't like to throw stuff away. Sanda and Linda contracted lice, guess through Alisha, she gets around, so they visited a specialized cosmetic salon (saloon? same word), what with hair oiling and then later boiling the bedcloths. True, though, american washing machines can't boil it, they use the hot water from the heater, but even those 60° suffice.
Lena's pulse steadied, while we talked yesterday it showed 58 (on her smart watch, the snitch). Today she took Tanja out on the snow (which began yesterday, still going strong but thawing even faster; the park there is, however, completely white), sent a sweet video how she blinks at the white and eventually sneezes.
The usual seasonal postcard from Burt, in an envelope. She said, before even opening it, that must be he has a shot of himself somewhere. Guessed right on first [try]... He always sent shots of landmarks from his many travels, and now, with his bulk, wherever he may show up, he is the landmark. I see his brow is progressing to the backend, but his hair is still down to [his] kidneys. And he impresses as being close to membership in the club 400.
Then che called Eržika to greet her about that christmas, and only later realized that it's the next day. The aunt said she even stayed in the hospital a while, because her caretakers, when they wash her hair, don't use a blowdryer, just wrap it in a towel, so she caught cold. And in the afternoon I called Mima to tell her about tha rakija of hers. She replied „I'll have to hide it better next time... tried it once, somewhere in the old house, and the younger son found it...“.
For the evening I prepared this year's tutifruti (second attempt, this time from the big cask, wasn't yet ready for prime time on first try, eh, the sitting) and quince. Three shots of the first... um, not even too weird, but still a taste we never had before. Well, when we recall the composition (over some fisix stills), we had apricots, figs, 15kg blackberries, cherries here from the street, and some apples (from the garden and from the neighbor) and pears... well, no way it can fail. Just doesn't kick, feels mild, or is just well smoothed out. Then we tried the quince, ummm, somewhat milder taste, but gooood... pour half a shot more. And then another half.
Twonyfifth. Eržika called, having completely forgotten that they spoke yesterday. And yes, Magi was here in september, to see about the retirement here, and of course she didn't even call, didn't need anything or didn't have the time, as it goes. In the evening we spoke with Go again, this time saw Stanley and the kids too, everything fine, only the bentley job, just when it was almost done and then someone stole the wheels off it (which I heard already but gave him the chance to talk about and ease his mind a little), will take some more time now. It never ends.
Finally did what I planned for years already - parked the synthesizer on the coffee table by the couch, and took it easy. The trouble is that it sounds bad to me, worse if anyone hears me practicing, which I wouldn't like, listened enough to others practicing, not pretty. So I dug out the old Sennheiser's headset, the one from 2007, where one speaker lost contact but the mike should work, plugged mike into the zmajček, directly, and plugged the speakers directly, removed the switcher, as I'm not listening via hedset for years now, and these newer ones (from, I guess, 2013) I plugged into the synthesizer. And there, it sounds much better, and despite what I said of my low skills when it comes to guessing the intervals when I'm trying to take down a melody by ear, within two minutes I had „Leaving on a jet plane“ by Björk (actually pronounced pretty much like Bierk, how I heard it). Managed to download some of her songs, and as my dear insisted, lots of Thomas Bergerson. An interesting concept, a communal symphonic orchestra, without a conductor, they function more like a rock band. Despite the size of the band, the music sounds rather simple, though not quite... There's a bit of Doldinger and bit of Morricone... all in all quite listenable, far be it from bad, it's on me and my fondness for complicated music. But there it is, her contribution to the playlist.
On twonyseventh I finally gave up on watching Farscape, after a bit of the fourth season. It's not that they don't have a long range story, they don't reset after each episode and the order of running the episodes is hard tu disturb (which happened once early in the third season and was very noticeable), and it even looks better now, on the mac and in full resolution, than it looked twentysome years ago on the teevee, and the story holds, as a whole... But fuck that, it's still obviously written on the run, and the ideas take precedence not by being original or intriguing, but what will better amuse the team and give the actors a chance to do something different. So there you have two Crichtons, two-three Scorpii, they even migrate into a cartoon (!) and then also into a video game (!).
I quit at the spot where they were to finally find Earth... ah, no, everyone did that already, at least three branches of Stari Dreck did, enough. And then I told Lena now's the time to give me the user and pass for the Aitchbyowe, which worked on first [try], and went on to watch „Sisterhood“, which is actually called something different, so the title would have a „Dune“ and a colon, that's how it's still worn. Watched five episodes, counting on it being eight long. So for the next day I had only the seezen fenelley (that's how Amers pronounce „season finale“).
To avoid writing this twice, here's the critique I put (later, on fifth of january) I wrote on burundi:
Šgjz*, this is good, and for one it's not oil on steel as in Expanse and ten other things, and the Foundation is more gold dust than steel (and then ten more things in the next half year had that). By its graphic style, it has distinct ambients - on one side the norwegian Lankiveil, on the other the imperial palace and vicinity, and the bits of the rest. I was even wielding my worst grumpiness, led by what yo wrote, but then didn't need to fire it.
A large plus is that they didn't stick to the book, just like Foundation didn't, because it is known what a pie is not made of**, they had to excise and insert lots of stuff. Interstingly, Vilnev (Villeneuve) doesn't mention the navigators at all, and here they mention them by a single sentence, the guild zero times, and that the transporters move by bending space is clearly visible once but not explained ever. Anyway, the rework gave a good twisting zigzagging plot, where the situation changes by the minutes, the decisions and plans change accordingly, and again, it's good that they don't stick to the book (which I don't intend to take in [my] hands ever again, it looks as if it was written by an early AMind or was at least prompted by it) so in many places I couldn't possibly guess what's next. That's an achievement by itself.
Twonyathe. Finally in the mrz pludger the right click doesn't operate on the currently played song, but the one clicked on. And can select more songs at once. Only the selection can't be spotty, works only on adjacent rows.
She made an apple lazy pie, to take along tomorrow. Not excellent, it's that the first bite was an almost trancedental experience. Incredible.
So on the twonyninth we went to that altogether lunch. There was quite a fog, so we left as early as 11:40, counting on low speed driving. But the fog thinned as early as the ečka curve, where the „Short intermission“ tavern (named so when we had black and white television and most of it went live, so they'd often finish ahead of schedule, so these two words would be onscreen for a few minutes) used to be. By the time we got there, it was full sunshine already. They still had snow, in patches, on the lawn.
Lena really invested effort into cooking, and Tanja had a round of squealing just when we arrived, which caused a near panic, how to get it all done at the same time, so baba took her in [her] hands and the matters settled immediately. The grub was exquisite (I didn't even try everything, at least the steaks, mashed potatoes and one more thing), the turkey was roasted just right, some leaf dough medallions with brie and two-three more things (something fruity, pistacchios and... can't guess further, but tasted deliciously). We talked at length, specially with Stojan... once a reporter, always a reporter, knows how to get you to talk. Starts with „how did you get used to retirement“, ends with my extensive oration against the eyetea cops („friends they make angry, enemies [they make] laugh“). I knitted some eighty shots through the day.
On the way back, the fog began right after Čenta. The drive was rather slow, for even when the fog thinned enough, the crowd in our lane was led by three slowpokes in a tight pack, and I didn't have the will to chase them. Others did, at least eight of them passed me, any by the time we got home, there were only four cars ahead of me.
For sleeping we remembered last year's apple, and it went smoothly. By the time we remember it again, it will be forelast [year's].
On monday she walked, now in full fog (it spread over Belgrade and beyond) to get the groceries and whatever was needed for lunch, and met Zvezdana's sister, hey how about us paying for that half [pig], not to carry the debt into the new year. Her thoughts exactly, let's do that. So she came a bit later, we calculated the amount, paid, off she goes but while still at the door she started complaining how they left her with a load of work in the firm („I may be a machine engineer with fifty exams, but that doesn't mean I know jack about accounting, but no, you'll be able to handle it, so they left it all on me and spread in various directions“). So this was off the agenda finally, and we also paid the milk for december, all clean, the new year may come. In the evening I, by some miracle, heard my phone when it rang - I often press the wrong button when checking it and gradually decrease the sound strength (volume never changes, believe it or not). It was Borče, just confirming that everything is as scheduled about tomorrow's doček.
So on tuesday we loaded, into my old 2003 backpack, a kilo of wine and kilo and a half of the 2019 apricot, and went for a nice walk through the fog. It thinned a bit but didn't relent, just right for a photo safari. Extra score for frosting everywhere, it was no lower than -1°, not too cold, so I made a bunch of shots along the way, and they turned out better than in the last fog. Dragana mentioned that we should come disguised, which we agreed on but actually meant to do it just symbolically, she'd put on a makeup (bought a set in Lidl last time, after not using any for some 30 years) and I a hat, as a hat club member who almost never wears it. There she remembered her own hat, and so we arrived in disguise („nobody recognized us on our way to here“ - of course, we met nobody). We saw some wee light in his window, thought he made a cozy ambience, we rang, the door buzzed and we went in. Probably his neighbor heard and buzzed us in, as he wasn't at home when we climbed, he was bringing Dragana in at the time. So I sat on the stairs and, just like last time, shot a couple while they were climbing. So we greeted each other and soon leaned on the apricot and the entrees.
Borče prepared funny caps and ties, of the american krismisi (v. house dictionary) persuasion, which served instead of disguises. The girls and he put them mostly just for photo ops, but I didn't take mine off at all. Didn't dare move [my] head much, the caps were kids' sizes, didn't cover half my scalp. The necktie I didn't even put around my neck, buttoned my shirt's second button in the loop, then buttoned up the top one and dropped the tie out over it. So, nothing around my neck, works like real.
The apricot ran fine, I think we all had around four shots, the host at least five, fast is [he]. Which, of course, took some time, so the dinner was substantially delayed. As late as 22:30 we discovered that the rolled shoulder needs to be relieved of the rubber netting, which Dragana took upon herself to do. Then I went on slicing it but was too precise, sliced it thin, but it didn't cool off to set tight, it's not a steak, so she took over and cut it thicker. We finished eating near to midnight. There were fireworks everywhere, all invisible but audible, because fuckit, fog. Then later we heard that even the grand city fireworks, as in Belgrade (on water) were likewise invisible, the fog in the sky was changing colors, that was all.
So we congratulated, kissed and went on to open the champagne. What of it he prepared was probably okay, but nope, we'll have Rubin's Milion, which Dragana unearthed somewhere, who knows how old. I made this shot just to read the date from the notches on the label, and there it is, 27th of october 1992. Opening it was a long operation, as it didn't have any pressure inside, nothing helped the cork out, so we messed with it for quite a while, and eventually won. And there, not even close to a champagne, this was more similar to some ooooold vinjak, by color and smell and taste, except it was probably alcohol free. Though I don't know where would it evaporate, the bottle was airtight, must have oxydized into something else. Never mind, we drank no more than half a glass each and then gave up in favor of Borče, who cleaned the rest of it. We switched to roze, because we two opted for white wine and then he had to confess he had none, so okay, roze it is.
Hailing a cab took a while, got one on fourth try, arrived at 2:28, a talkative guy. Said the main crowd will be next. Two or three major places for doček were finished already, and now at three everybody else will be closing, they'll be short on vehicles.
And so, through the fog, we stepped into the new year.
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* originally, šgjz - šta ga ja znam - what do I know of it. While the phrase is old and very common, means „don't know what to say“, „don't have an opinion on that yet“, the abbr. is something I keep using, partially to counter the flood of english abbreviations, so to have a domestic production. I was persistent with this and it eventually took, and nowadays I notice there are more serbian skr. than english abbr. in use, at least on burundi and when they quote twitter.
** everyone knows the proverb „a pie is not made from turd“
Mentions: auntie Janja, burundi, daća, doček, Dragana Vitas (Dragana), Gorana Sredljević (Go), house dictionary, Jasmina Vlajin, Jelena Sredljević (Lena), Linda Sredljevich Aquilla (Linda), Mališa Borkovski (Borče), Margita Gunaroši (Magi), Merima Tabarski (Mima), mrz pladžer, Nevena Sredljević (Nina), rakija, Reginald Burton Cape (Burt), Reinaldo Aquila (Rein), Rosanda Aquilla (Fayes), Sanda Sredljević Aquilla (Sanda), Stanley Berger, Stojan Nastić, Tanja Nastić, tutifruti, vinjak, zmajček, Zvezdana, in serbian
24-XII-2024 - 5-VII-2026