FLOATING WIDGET MAY RATTLE

[freckles_and_doubt]

The forces of unchecked laterality appparently dictated jo&stv's hosting, last night, of a gathering known as Polish Christmas In July, or more accurately, Polish Christmas In July In September, since between the thought and the act is one hell of a lot of procrastination. This occasion entailed, among other things, eight people, two days of preparation, really bad vodka shots and 4kg of potatoes; one new addiction (mine) to Jo's wonderful garlicky beet soup, which in Poland is apparently barszcz* not borscht and which is a deep, ruby red that stains like a bugger; argumentative pierogi assembly lines more or less glued to the counters with dough; a lavish and random selection of small and frequently silly presents randomly redistributed; and one incredibly unholy mess in my kitchen**. Real Polish Christmas is apparently a twelve-course meal (we settled on three), but it's a fast day, so no meat; instead, practically limitless quantities of things are wrapped in dough. One course is supposed to involve the sacrifice of the live carp that's been in the bathtub all day, but we passed on that one, particularly since the low-minded company were tending to the idea of putting fins on my cat.

The food was wonderful, and a jolly good time was, as they say, had by all. Random highlights include the Evil Landlord, with a piece of droe wors stuck in the side of his mouth like a cigar, saying "I love it when a plan comes together" in German; Jim's new pick-up line: "Hey, baby, love me, I am kitten!"; and, notably, jo's parting imitation of the flubbery, cthulhoid mass of leftover pierogi, schlooping threateningly down the corridor in the dead of night. There is now an incredibly large amount of chocolate in this house, since the stern dictate that presents may not exceed R20 in value lends itself to an awful lot of edibles. Also, apparently, to metrosexual facepacks, bubbles, slinkies, impossible puzzles involving wooden balls and gutter-minded jokes about them***, and a small plastic tub of putty that flashes randomly when Vi thumps stv with it.

I was also charmed by the discovery that a can of Guinness, the Evil Landlord's favourite tipple, carries the cryptic warning with which I have adorned the head of this post. Life. So lateral.

* Teh Internet says there are several different ways of spelling this. I've gone for the one with the most random consonants.
** Worth every beet-stain and gluey coating of dough. Also included flouring the cat. The black one, where it shows up best, causing us to momentarily fear she had dandruff.
*** Also a certain amount of confusion, although that might be at least partially attributable to the gin.
Jo: But there are too many balls here to make a pyramid!
Kind bystander: It's a three-dimensional pyramid, silly.
Jo: But it's not a three-dimensional picture!

Comments

[wolverine-nun.livejournal.com]

Um, metrosexual facepack? If that was to the Evil Landlord, I'd have paid good money to see his face when he opened that.

[extemporanea.livejournal.com]

Not the Evil Landlord. Jim. It was a good face :>. Particularly funny since there seems to be a running gag in which Jim is accused of being metrosexual.

[(Anonymous)]

12-course fasting?! These Poles are crazy.

I second you on the soup, though. Quite remarkably tasty.

scroob

[wolverine-nun.livejournal.com]

I met with a Polish friend this morning, and mentioned this. "Apparently the traditional Polish Christmas dinner has 12 courses!" She made a rude noise. "Tradition! Who does tradition?" she said, in a dismissive fashion. "And polish food, I do not like it anymore. It is too rich, too heavy". This is the same woman, who told me, on my responding to her intention of helping at the Polish tent at the Community Chest Carnival, "it is Polish food. You will not like it."

She corrected my pronunciation of barszcz with something that sounded just like what I'd said...

[(Anonymous)]

Beloved keeps doing that to me with German. "..." say I. "..." he gently corrects. "Yes, ...?" I say. "No, ...!" says he. Oh, the hilarity.

s

Spit and Polish

[pinkthulhu.livejournal.com]

Thanks to our glorious pan-European community, getting Polish food is now as easy as shopping for dishwashing liquid:

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/business/5332024.stm

;)