Kakšen je sobotni pozdrav? How do you say hello on Saturday?

Mijaaav! :)

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Ha, zadnjič sva mimogrede naletela na snemanje nove poslastice Klemna Slakonje ter njegove ekipe in potem seveda malce oprezala z razdalje; še bolj pa sva se nasmejala včeraj, ko sva v končanem dotičnem videu na ekranu za sekundo videla tudi sebe. Ja, papež se nama je priplazil za hrbet. :)

V naši majhni deželi je res tako, da samo stopiš na ulico pa si mimogrede v kadru in tudi znane obraze lahko srečaš kjerkoli in kadarkoli.

Se spomnim enkrat pred leti, ko sem stopila iz trgovine, kjer sem si kupila sirovo štručko z mortadelo, ugriznila vanjo in hkrati stopila h košu, da odvržem ovoj, v tistem trenutku pa zaslišim močan znan glas, prijazen in nasmejan, ki mi zaželi dober tek! Dvignem pogled in se (v smehu zaradi polnih ust) komaj zahvalim Štefki Kučan. :)

To mi je všeč pri nas, da ni zaradi znanih ljudi nobene pretirane drame.

Ha, the other day we accidentally bumped into filming new imitation masterpiece of Klemen Slakonja and his team and then spying a bit from a distance. But after seeing the finished video on tv we were laughing, because we noticed ourselves somewhere in the background for a second. Yes, the pope sneaked behind our backs. :)

In our little country it is not difficult at all to unintentionally pop-up in the scene somewhere in the background, it is almost enough just to step out to the street. There are also many opportunities to walk by well-known faces, singers, actors, politicians, etc.

I remember few years ago when I stepped from the market store holding a sandwich for lunch. I bit into it and at the same time stepped to the trash can to throw away the wrap. Meanwhile I heard someone approaching, wishing me dober tek! [=bon appetite!] with a very familiar, loud, kind and smiling voice. I turned around and (smiling because my mouth being full) just hardly said thanks to our ex first lady. :)

It is something I like very much here; not making to much drama when meeting someone famous.

Bójte se! Be afraid!

Na enem od družbenih omrežij sem včeraj videla objavljen posnetek zavzetega igranja biljarda. Ker se bliža tradicionalni občedružinski turnir v tem športu (in to seveda ni kar tako; z živim video prenosom, ki ga pripravi Miro in ki omogoča igralcem, ki so trenutno prosti, da kar v jedilnici spremljajo potek turnirja), sem to seveda razumela kot ustrahovanje tik pred zdajci.

Zato vračam; tudi midva sva vadila!

Ja, naš oči je sam zrisal načrte za biljardno mizo, ki mu jo je potem izdelal prijatelj mizar. Takrat s sestro še niti v šolo nisva hodili in spomnim se, da je dal posebej za naju narediti tudi manjši palici. Biljard sem torej igrala še preden sem videla na mizo. Lepi spomini! In babica je razturala, se ne hecam! :)

Na teh naših turnirji gre bolj za zabavo in druženje. (japajade!) :)

I noticed on one of the social networks a photo of two people eagerly playing billiard. And because our traditional whole-family tournament in this sport is approaching (and this is not a small deal at all; with a live stream that Miro installs, so that players who are currently free can watch developing of the tournament from the dining room), I understood that as a threat, of course.

So I am returning it; Miro and I, we have also been training!

Yes, my dad had constructed the pool table which was then made by his friend carpenter. I remember my sister and I weren’t even going to school yet, so he ordered a special, unique cues, and us two being hardly tall enough to reach the table. Nice memories! And our grandma was totally rocking it, not kidding! :)

The tournaments are more about fun and being together. (yeah, right!) :)

Margarina z okusom masla, zares? Margarine with the taste of butter, really?

V oglasih, tudi tistih, ki se tičejo hrane, sem slišala že toliko neumnosti in zavajanj, da sem nanje že skoraj odporna, res, gledam jih, poslušam jih, ampak se potem ničesar ne spomnim, ker se očitno podzavestno izklopim; a česa tako ... am ... neverjetnega že dolgo ne; zakaj bi že človek želel kupiti margarino z okusom masla?!? (Da sploh ne razmišljam, kje so »dobili« okus masla, brrr!)
 
Če odmislim, kakšna umetna packarija se verjetno valja tam notri, se sprašujem vsaj, zakaj ne bi nekdo, ki želi maslo, preprosto kupil le-tega, ne pa nekaj drugega s tistim okusom. Hm, zagonetno. Poskušam se vživeti: Zelo si želim imeti domačega ljubljenčka. Ne bi rada psa, ker se jih bojim, zato bom vzela mačko. Ampak rada bi, da izgleda kot pes.
 
Kakorkoli, jaz sem oboževalka masla, že od nekdaj, in tole zgoraj je eden od mojih trenutno najljubših zajtrkov; poleg sadno-zelenjavnega zmešančka, ki mu ni uspelo zdržati do foto-zmenka, še avokado z limoninim sokom in soljo ter dobra stara slovenska klasika, maslo z medom.
 
Vem, da kruh ni najbolj fotogeničen, ampak oči me je že kot otroka naučil, da moram méd tako razmazati po kruhu, da ga mimogrede malo zmešam z maslom, da mi potem ne curlja po rokah. In tako je ostalo do dandanes, izgled gor ali dol! :)

I have already heard so many nonsense and deceits in advertising that I have become almost completely immune to everything, truly, I watch them, I hear them, but later I do not remember anything at all, because obviously I unplug myself; but something so ... am ... insane have not heard for a long time; why would anybody want to buy margarine with the taste of butter?!? (I better not even think about where they “got” the taste of butter, brrr!)
 
If I forget about all the chemistry that it is probably in there, I at least wonder: why not simply buy butter instead of something different that tastes like butter. Hm, tricky one. Trying to get into thinking: I am off to a pet shop. I don’t want to buy a dog, because I am afraid of them, so I will take a cat. But I would like it to look like a dog.
 
Whatever, I am a fan of butter, from ever, and here above you can see one of my favourite breakfasts lately; beside smoothie that couldn’t last until photo session, there is also an avocado seasoned with lemon juice and salt and a good old traditional Slovene classic, butter and honey.
 
I am aware that the slice of bread is not the most photogenic, but my dad had learned me already when I was a child to gently mix honey with butter when spreading it, so you need not worry it will drip down your hands later. And so it stayed all the way till today, never mind the visual aspect! :) 

Samo gatke Just the knickers

Zadnjič, ko sva hodila po mestu, sem rekla Miru: lej to, do zdaj sploh nisem dojela, kakšen klošar sem; kavbojke imam rabljene, od sestre, ki me vedno sproti zalaga s starimi kosi oblačil (tenkju, tenkju!), mikico tudi, čevlje sem dobila preko njene znanke, ki se je prenaglila z nakupom, jopico in brezprstne rokavice mi je spletla in skvačkala mami, čepico imam babičino, ki si jo je naredila sama, šal je bil mamin, nogavice sem dobila nekoč za novo leto, torbico za rojstni dan, in če mimogrede pogledam še vanjo, je tam tudi ovoj za telefon, ki mi ga je naredila mami, in nenazadnje, ne vem sicer, če se spodobi, ampak, če sem že začela, grem vse do konca; je zaključek takšen, da sem imela svoje samo spodnje gatke, še nedrček je namreč sestrin. :)
 
Ma, kakšen klošar! - temu se zdaj reče vintič, pa tudi če nèhoté! :)

[Ja, vem, klobasám! :)]

The other day, when we were walking across the town, I said to Miro; oh look, I just realise what a vagrant I am, wearing used jeans and a top from my sister who is always stocking me up with cool old pieces (thank you!), I got the shoes from her colleague who had made a hasty purchase, the cardigan and fingerless gloves are knitted and crocheted by my mum, the barrette was my grandma’s who made it herself, the scarf used to be my mum’s, I got socks for New Year’s once, the bag for birthday, and if I make a quick look into it by the way, there is a phone suit made by my mum, and last but not least, I don’t know how appropriate this is, but if I started it, I should finish it up; the bottom line is that only the knickers were mine, as the bra was also my sister’s once. :)
 
A vagrant, my arse! - nowadays this is called vintage, even though unwittingly! :)

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S sprehoda pretekli konec tedna, ko sva po vrtovih občudovala vrtnice (!),

ovekovečila pa sem tegale kuštravca. :)

From a walk this weekend when we admired roses in people’s gardens (!),

but I took a shot of this fluff-head instead. :)

Sušeče se navadne kustovnice, znane tudi kot goji jagode, ki jih je mami dobila od svoje prijateljice Vere,

ki jo, ker je tudi bralka tega bloga, seveda prav lepo pozdravljam! :)

We are drying goji berries that my mum got from her friend Vera, who is,

by the way, also a reader of this blog. So I’m saying hello to her of course! :)

Včeraj sva videla krasno mavrico, ki pa je izginila v tistih nekaj sekundah,
ko sem stopala iz avta. Potem sem jezna škljocnila kar ta balona.
Yesterday we saw the most amazing rainbow, but before I stepped from the car
it disappeared completely. Then I took an angry photo of these balloons.

Papež v mestu The pope in the city

Ta teden se je po naši prestolnici sprehajal papež. :)
(kdo drug kot Klemen Slakonja, seveda, ki je očitno pripravljal eno od svojih norih točk)

There was a pope walking across our capital this week. :)
(It was our actor and tv host Klemen Slakonja who was obviously preparing one of his crazy imitations/parodies;
here are just some of many: imitating Jamie Oliver, singing transformed funny texts of
Lenny Kravitz, Tina Turner with Eros Ramazzotti and a whole bunch of other famous singers.)

Praznik spomina A holiday of remembering

Ma, ne razumem prav dobro te vzvišene miselnosti, češ, te dni gredo vsi na pokopališča, kakšne ovce da so. Ker oni, ki ne gredo, imajo pametnejše delo. Še hujši so pa oni, ki gredo in kljub vsemu bentijo nad gnečo, kot da so oni nad vsem tem (to je tako kot tisti, ki gre v nedeljo v trgovino in se zgraža nad ostalimi nakupovalci, ker ne!, on seveda ni del te ovčje množice, in da bi se namesto tega lahko odpeljali na izlet v naravo).

Nekateri ne razumejo pomena besede praznik. To je dan, ko se nekoga ali nek dogodek obeležuje, slaví ali pa se ga spominja.

Torej, da gre človek na grob prižgat svečko ravno na ta dan, ki je tako primerno spet s časom, ko narava umira in ki je, tudi povsem praktično, vsaj v današnjih časih, namenjen predvsem mnogim, ki mogoče zaradi službenih obveznosti drugače tega ne morejo storiti, pa bi radi, nekateri se edino na ta način srečajo z ostalimi sorodniki, nekateri imajo to za družinsko tradicijo, torej, to, da grem tja ravno na ta dan, je popolnoma moja odločitev; lahko grem dan ali dva prej ali kasneje, kadarkoli čez leto, vsak dan, nikoli, ali pa namenoma točno na tisti dan, morda ker mi je všeč vzdušje, morda rada gledam veliko prižganih svečk naenkrat, sploh zvečer, ljudi, ki se srečujejo, morda so mi nasploh všeč pokopališča, važno mi je le, da obisk ni obveza, temveč želja.

Še boljša je tista, ko marsikdaj slišiš godrnjavce, da tisti, ki gredo tja za praznik, drugače nikoli ne pomislijo na svoje preminule, ja, kakšna logika, ane!, kot da če praznujem rojstni dan prav na ta dan in samo en dan v letu, in običajno ga takó, pa sem res ena ovca!, pomeni, da drugače svojega življenja ne cenim pretežno vse leto, hm?

Je pač praznik in temu primerno je vse malo bolj slovesno ozaljšano. A je to tako slabo? (No, ponekod je lahko tudi slabo, priznam namreč, da me pri vhodu na Žale zelo moti ta novodobna ponudba vseh vrst kiča, ki ne sodi tja. Pogrešam čase, ko so bile tam le stojnice s svečami, rožami in kakšna uta s kostanjem.) In če mi kdo očita potrošnjo sveč, hja, sem se šla statistiko in po njej porabim točno dve in pol nagrobne sveče na leto. Od kdaj je postal tak kriminal prižgati eno navadno svečo! Ravnam vestno, kar se tiče okolja, skrbno, kar se tiče moje denarnice, in razumno, kar pomeni, da se zavedam, da količina sveč ni povezana s količino ljubezni ali bolečine, da pa mi vsak dan vcepljajo slabo vest zaradi sveč in mi razlagajo o večnogorečih kvazi ognjih (ogenj kot naravni element ima pač svojo moč, ki se je ne da nadomestiti), medtem ko se iz cele vrste dimnikov sumljivih tovarn po vsem svetu valijo neznanske količine zelo nevarnih izpustov, to se mi zdi pa rahlo neokusno.

Photos are from our country’s main cemetery Žale.

Smola - na napačni strani okna Too bad - on the wrong side of the window

Zadnjič enkrat sem skuhala kar tisto, sem-ter-tja-po-hladilniku-in-skrinji.
 
Cvetačne cvetke sem na hitro skuhala v malo vode (tu govorim o petih minutah, nič več, dobri so tako ali tako tudi surovi) in jih odcedila (vodo sem seveda shranila, pa čeprav samo za eno čajno skodelico, tako lepo je dišala pa tudi na Mira sem pomislila, ki juho zelo rad pije iz skodelice). :)
 
Medtem sem posebej na čebuli in česnu popražila lističe gob, mislim da so bili kar dobri stari jurčki, jih popoprala, solila in dodala malo karija.
 
V čakajoče cvetke sem vmešala kar konkretno količino kisle smetane, dobro premešala in temu dodala še gobjo mešanico. Na krožniku sem jed potresla še z mletimi orehi in nasekljanim drobnjakom.

Res dobro. Ne samo, ker imam vse te stvari tako ali tako rada, pohvale sem dobila tudi od našega dedka, ki sem mu tisti dan kuhala in ki je bolj človek tradicionalnih in - predvsem - že preizkušenih jedi; najmanjše eksperimentiranje s sestavinami, ki jih ima sicer rad, ga lahko vrže s tira. Prizna sicer ne, vidi pa se mu na obrazu. :)

Nekaj receptov z okusnimi cvetačnimi cvetki lahko najdete tudi tule.

The other day I cooked the all-you-can-find-in-the-refrigerator-and-in-the-freezer.
 
I quickly cooked cauliflower florets in a little water (I am talking about no more than five minutes, they are good raw anyway) and strained them (but saved the water, of course, even though just for a tea cup, it smelled so deliciously and I also thought of Miro who adores drinking soup from a cup). :)
 
Meanwhile I separately fried, on onion and garlic, slices of mushrooms, I think they were good old porcinis, added grounded black pepper, salt and a bit of curry powder.
 
Into awaiting florets I mixed-in quite a few spoons of sour cream and then added the mushroom mixture. When served on a plate, I sprinkled the dish with grounded walnuts and chopped chives.

Really good. Not just because I like all these things anyway, I also received praises from our grandpa, for whom I was in charge to cook that day and who is a lover of more traditional and, most of all, already tested dishes and who easily gets thrown from the tracks if he sees something slightly experimental, even though made of ingredients he likes. He won’t admit it, but you can read it on his face. :)

You can find more recipes with yummy cauliflower florets also here.

Iiiiiiii

Miro je rezgetal, topotal in iz sebe delal opico, da sta tadva brezbrižneža končno
le za trenutek dvignila svoji glavi in pogledala proti nama ... in si verjetno mislila svoje. :)
 

Kako že gre tista: pri jedi ima še pes rad mir (?) :)

Miro was neighing, galloping and making monkey out of himself to finally made these two indifferent
ponies look towards us for at least a moment ... and probably made them get their own opinion about everything. :)
 

I don’t know how it is with English, but here we have a saying:

when eating, even a dog doesn’t like to be disturbed. :)