waiting for spuds to boil and chicken kievs to roast to perfection (or at least past the risk of salmonella) tomato salad to go with that and bob's your uncle.. or geoff.. or any name really.. if you even have an uncle.
The English have some very weird word play and we're trying to acclimatize as well as possible.
The straight translations such as the dutch "onder de knie" (meaning you have everything under control) goes turns into "under the knee".
And of course the Swedish "tomma tunnor skramlar mest" . Meaning "empty barrels make the loudest racket".
I got a lifted eyebrow from B when stating I wanted to "get all my ducks in a row" before we went on with a project and I'm thinking that that one flew right over his head on rubber wings (wobbly reference to earlier post)
And of course the polish ones. Sitting in my living room here in London pealing tatters I horribly miss my mums kitchen table. It has burn marks from one x-mas when the "advent ljusstake" (four candles that you light one after the other Sundays before Christmas) My brother went into the living room telling my dad that the kitchen was on fire. My father - firmly attached to the tv due to sport events - put it down to children's imagination until my uncle went running in to save the day. Anyway. its a good table. and i miss blabbering in polish.
Sayings like "wygladasz jak pies cie morde lisal" (you look like a dog licked your face, allthough "morde" is a bit uglier word than face) and the singsong quality of the polish language.
Okej, I admit it.. I miss my mom.. and my dad.. They drive me completely off the wall in 10 minutes flat but still. Their mine (all though I've got to share with two brothers)
Ok.. i think the potatoes are done now.. gonna go poke them and then mash em up. Dinner is served. *tummy rumble*
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