it happened again. after we got kicked off from all that rain, soaked to the bone, packed into mamouth minivans , and got home in a huff, the phone calls started:
“hey, listen, does any one of your guys have my ball?”
“no lal, it was not in our car. i’ll call up my sister and see if maybe it was in their car. can you check for my mom’s cake plate?”
“don’t think we have it but i’ll check again. i’m telling you rrusho i have no luck with those darned balls!” (my friend is a lady)
this friend of mine always loses balls, and they are not even hers. last time she lost a very precious ball, a memento our spy looking friend had from an important occassion. we checked high and low. we called the landlady of the rental. we called the neighbours. we even talked to the moose, but no ball. we plan to ask the squirrels next time we get up there.
this time she lost her nephew’s ball. the poor little thing cried very hard in the morning when auntie was caught stealing it from his toy chest. she was lucky because he was asleep when they returned. tomorrow we’ll probably hear his cries to Jersey.
the Independence Day picnic actually started a week ago. since it fell on a Wednesday, there wasn’t much else we could do, except lazying around and getting fat in front of the TV. so we decided to get fat in front of the Hudson river. And then my crush had the brilliant idea to add his mother. easy for him to say, because he only has to provide for her. the rest of us have mommy daddy cousin, other cousin, the friend we must invite but do not like, the in-laws, the friends we like, etc. etc.
then there was the food. one of us bought the meat, the other one bought the drinks, some cooked byrek, some did dhalle, my mom made her famous cake etc. logical right? wrong. the in-laws bought their own meat and my mom absolutely refused not to buy meat as well. who could eat their cooking anyway? so we bought meat, veggies, and fruits. and a grill. i got yelled for that so i yelled to the moron cashier in return. except, when we went to the park all the good spots were taken and there were no free grills. i got a star for thinking ahead. and i got to roast corn on the cob. yay day for me.
we jumped rope, scaring the other Albanians who did not know us, and scaring ourselves out of breath in approx. 5 min. who knew that the “I am the train engine, i call the first train car in…” game would be so tiring. then we remembered. we were all over 30. a miracle we could still walk without our joints creaking, let alone jump rope with the kiddies. so we sat with our parents and shared beer and wine. i even did the good girl (me terbie) routine, and i got eyed by some sikh mothers as a prospective daughter-in-law for that. ahhh, the moms love me, but it is the sons who don’t get it! a picnicer even told me that he did not bring his mom on purpose (because she’d make him marry me in a jiffy. you see, our grandparents originate from the same village. no further comments neccesary.)
we even had our little soap opera episode when Lothario, the bald and not-beautiful lover, scorned by family of friend, came by to say hi, prompting the brother of scorned friend to huff out of the scene dramatically. it fizzed out however, when the lover left first. my friend was in the bathroom so she did not understand anything at all. but i had a front row seat. pity it was not in Spanish. Albanian just does not have that bathetic flair.
then rain came down, and we had to button our pants, grab our grilled ribs and cake remainders and scamper to the cars, getting our balls confused in the process. here is the lost list so far:
1. my jean jacket (found in my friend’s car)
2. my mom’s cake plate (MIA)
3. our good white table cloth (MIA)
4. my cousin’s silver berries (ide. found in my bag. don’t ask me how they got there)
5. my friend’s nephew’s ball
6. an unidentified blanket (abandoned in my bag, the bums)
7. daddy’s Swiss Army knife (just found in my mom’s purse, so he did not file for divorce)
then we got home, only to find out that the fireworks were cancelled due to weather issues. bummer. no balls, no fireworks, but still proud to be Independent.
happy 4th folks!