07-X-2022.
More or less nothing meanwhilee, except we skipped the frendz parti, Borče reported a swollen jaw and his dentist put him on antibiotics. He knows that alcohol isn't counterindicated, but claims that it does annull the effect of the meds.
Milk is 100 dinars.
Today in Klincaid we picked the quinces, got almost 80kg. First pumpkins too, and she gathered more walnuts.
On eighth we went for groceries, partly the regular and partly to buy stuff for the kids for tomorrow. Dropped even by the chinese shop in Lesnina, because in Lidl they didn't have everything we wanted. When we got home there was a bit of ruckus (or any such pointless word) when Raja and Violet wanted to eat the morsketina (v. house dictionary), and this time I don't mean the frutti di mare, I mean the original shell-shaped belgian (or rather imitation) chocolates, because no, this is not for you, we take that as a gift. We had to buy more for them, later, once or twice, while they had them in Lidl.
On sunday we took off when we could. The plan was to make ourselves think of starting at nine so to achieve ten. Well it was eleven thirty really, and we got there at 13:00 sharp. I even picked the right exit from the road to their side of the hill, on first try.
New face in the family, two, that is - Žarko's sister's husband was there, and their daughter is now a cute klinceza of three years. And a boy should join them in january. All in all, eight adults and eight kids. Žarko did announce a barbecue, but made a gulaš in a kettle, excellent. And the weather served us well - it was bright cloudy while we drove, then sunshine when we sat. The children played nicely, specially the five younger ones. Violet was with their oldest daughter (whom we remember as a baby at their wedding, v. 26-IX-2010.), who just wanted to practice her english. Raja, on the other side, couldn't find entertainment for himself, and even cried when he banged his head on a low branch. His lack of proper trousers didn't help either. He grew out of what he had, never goes shopping with us, and suddenly he's got nothing to wear. Also managed to tear his new crocs („for once I fork out the dough for expensive original, and that turns out the weakest).
The gulaš was excellent, and no matter how much of various spices were dumped in sizable amounts, there wasn't too much of anything in it. Even the lazy pie was interesting, the apple somehow in even smaller bits than usual, the dough half softer than what we were used to, yet all good. All in all the day went nicely. The new son-in-law seems an interesting guy and fit in seamlessly.
We made a stop in Vršac on the way back, she went to buy pljeske for these two, whom we couldn't talk into trying out the gulaš. I tried to navigate my way out of there (the GPS served fine on the way there, even though it skipped one turn), but Vršac is a black hole signal-wise. Not simple for the mobile either, every now and then it hooks into a romanian tower and tells you you are in roaming. Regardless, we exited easily, all happy and content, and I wasn't sleepy either, except around the middle third of the way where there's hardly any traffic, but then in Boka I just cheered up and stepped on it and got home in good shape, around 19:35.
Just as we unpacked, I went upstairs for a smoke, Nina came up to tell me that Borče is on the landline. I'll call him. And he just confirmed that tomorrow's sitting is on.
The next day (10th) I was doing the photos of the last ten days, writing Byo (mostly 2004, the purchase of the house, that period was quite sparse). Nina went to the gym, we stayed with the kids, as usual. She skipped a couple of days, because we were sort of no good all week - some sniffing, some coughing, some sleepy (I did a day of each, now the cough turned into scraping the bottom of the barrel, for the rest of the slime). Now she's getting back in shape, but still achieves less, there's more to return into. Vera is skipping a couple of weeks, after her surgery (she can become thinner whenever she wants, except her tits remain too big, so she made them smaller, said she likes how it is now; dunno, haven't seen her yet).
We were a bit late coming to the 82nd frendz parti Borče's, because we stopped along the way - I went into Spajz (former Špajz or... never mind) to buy cloves (which have vanished from Lidl and in Roda they're rearranging the whole spice area, whole week, so two meters of shelf were empty) and she went to Linea to get trousers for Raja (one jeans and three more, haven't seen all yet). And when we properly sat (delayed by my urge to pee, went for that first, then greeted), poured the cherry, Dragana started about how I fucked up with the phone, she tried to get me but I didn't get any. And the phone, just to spite me, got stuck along the way and wouldn't even boot properly, no matter how many ways I tried. Worked next day, just like that. Well, she said she wasn't even going to tell me because we were on Divčibare, and later she couldn't reach me. Tell me what? Well, about Mandža. What about him? Well, he died.
Oh fuck. What happened?
Says he had some vocal chord cancer or thereabouts, you remember how he sounded last year. Yup, like breakfasting a grade hundred sandpaper. Well he claimed it was caused by smoking, that his dentures are messing him up and whatnot, and that day, I'd say friday, 23rd, he's sitting at the table, coughs suddenly, eructs a whole wad of mostly congealed blood, and just keels over. It seems he knew what was up, and didn't want treatment. Well he was a doctor, of course he knew (and of course he knew why he avoided treatment). The funeral, she said, was huge, not that just the whole village came, and the other village where he used to work, but also half of Trbnjevo. They didn't have a bigger funeral this year.
Bajlo made a whole series of gaffes - for one, didn't call anybody, so eventually Mima picked up Dragana in the nick of time, they had two hours altogether to get ready and get there. Staša was also there and that was it from the class, nobody else could be told on time. And then he fucked up a couple more. Seems to me he just got pantful scared.
And I was just thinking how lucky we were, nobody from the class died for ten years now, while there's a quarter missing from both neighbor classes. Eh, fuckit.
Borče did the extra step with his cooking, picked a recipe from yoochoob, did in a shallow pot wide as a medium pizza, steaks on top, two kinds of pork, and onion mushrooms and some more (no potatoes!) under it, came out excellent. We drank the standard, two shots each (the girls did, he and I took three), then switched to wine (she had beer, dark, Budvár). Started getting ready to leave around one. He escorted us to the usual place, the corner where 25. maj faces Lesnina, with a pedestrian crossing dividing them. There we bade him farewell, and I got momentarily lost and embraced Dragana too. Next second I realized that it's too early, we walk together for another 200m... well, we had a good laugh there.
Didn't have to call a cab. Vlaja is on the road again.
Mentions: 26-IX-2010., 25. maj, Byo (Byo), Dragana Vitas (Dragana), frendz parti, house dictionary, Klincaid, klinceza, Lesnina, Mališa Borkovski (Borče), Merima Tabarski (Mima), Nenad Bajlo (Bajlo), Nevena Sredljević (Nina), pljeska, Ryu (Raja), Slavoljub Mandić (Mandža), Stanoje Serdarević (Staša), Trbnjevo, Vera Vraneš, Violet, Žarko Zarin, in serbian
28-XII-2022 - 7-IV-2026