This morning in the kitchen. . .

This morning Laszlo came into the kitchen still wearing his striped pyjamas. In he hops to grab something from the counter, then out he goes right back into the living room. If I didn’t know that today was special, this would have been a clear sign that something was up. It’s nearly 9 AM.

“Did your dad just get up?” I ask my husband.

“Did Dad just get up?” he asks his mother, Anna.

“He’s been up since 5 AM running around the house,” she replies, “fixing the garage, taking a shower, shaving and getting tidy. He’s just too excited to change his clothes.”

I made my banana mixed with nut butter breakfast and sat down at the table with Anna and Zsolt. The topic of Zsolt’s cousin’s recent engagement comes up. We all heard about it through Facebook, with pictures off the ‘will you marry me’ spelled out in candles included. It looks like it was a very sweet proposal. I guess they’re now engaged! It’s wonderful, but also bizarre to think she’s at the age of marriage. In my mind, everyone stays much, much younger than me. But apparently I’m getting older, and a new generation is getting married.

Laszlo appears in the doorway, but this time he doesn’t come into the kitchen. I wonder if he noticed that I noticed he’s still in his pyjamas. He begins talking to Zsolt, and I watch him through the yellow glass-panel kitchen door. His hands are moving quickly, but not widely.

“He’s won five dollars in the lottery,” explains Zsolt.

“So that’s a good sign for a good day,” I reply. But of course that’s not why he’s so excited. His pyjama-wearing, running about excited because today is the day he will pick up his new car. This is a car that’s been discussed for many years now, and they’ve finally been able to go forward with the purchase. After two weeks of delays in the car being delivered – today is THE DAY.

AND he’s just won five dollars in the lottery. Never mind that he also spends five dollars a week on lottery tickets. 🙂

Laszlo keeps talking.

“He needs to go into our bedroom to get some paperwork,” explains Zsolt.

The room is a mess. I’ve literally only started tidying it that very morning, but then abandoned the effort for some breakfast. The mess I’m most concerned about is my pile of underwear where the laundry hamper should be, which also happens to be right by the paperwork.

“Okay,” I say. Because you know, the man needs his paperwork.

Laszlo disappears.

Anna and Zsolt begin to stretch and yawn at the same time. It’s absolutely adorable. They’re slowly raising their arms about their heads and yawning it out. I like how much Zsolt and his parents enjoy each others company. Subconscious imitation is a strong form of flattery and interest. So, this is darn tooting cute, and I reckon a showcase of love.

“Should we give them an engagement card?” I ask Zsolt.

“Should we give them an engagement card?” he asks his mother.

“It’s not needed,” replies Anna. “Engagements are for the close family. When I was a girl, people would gather each side of the family for the engagement – but just the closest family – and there would be a dinner between the two group. Then, at that dinner the guy would give the girl a ring, and they would be officially engaged.”

(She says something to this measure. Zsolt is our translater between Hungarian and English. These “” are approximate, but close enough.)

Zsotl and I definitely didn’t do this. We were engaged on the Isle of Wright in England, and our families were on different sides of the world. But still, it was memorable.

Suddenly our conversation around proposals stops as we hear Zsolt’s father on the phone in the other room.

Oh no.



Anna is ready to jump out of her chair, but Zsolt manages to keep her still.

We listen.


The car is delayed.

And so ends the morning of excitement, romance, and pyjamas. Next time I see Laszlo, as he comes into the kitchen to explain the phone call, he’s wearing his normal clothes. We will have to wait once again, it seems. But hey, the car is coming. And it might be here this afternoon. Here’s hoping the lottery ticket really was a sign of a lucky day. If nothing else, we are all together here as a family in Pecs, Hungary. While I can’t actually bring that up in the middle of the ‘car isn’t here’ disappointment – it is nevertheless true, and it is also a very lovely thing.

The end. For now.


Here’s an update 🙂

Laszlo Car and Zsolt

A little Hungarian lesson for you

This evening I was riding home on the bus, and thought that I’d like to share with you some of my favourite Hungarian expressions, and what they mean in English. Some of these are general expressions, while others are pretty much Catherine-Zsolt made-up and used.

(Oh yes! Now I remember why I wanted to do this. I had just finished a long day of work, and all I could think to myself was “I’m so farkaséhes right now.” Then I thought, “I wish everyone knew what farkaséhes  means, so that I could say it aloud and people would be like, “oh yeah, I hear that!”)

Here we go. A little Hungarian fun 🙂

First off:

Farkaséhes means . . .

wolf hungryWolf hungry!  (I’m so farkaséhes right now. I’m so Wolf HUNGRY!!)

Next up:

Itt a kezem nem disznóláb means . . .

HANDThis is my hand, not a pig’s foot! (i.e. shake my hand already, it’s not a weapon .  . . a friend told us pig’s feet used to be used a weapons. So go figure.)

And then:

Sasnak Sas A Fia means. . .

eagleEagle’s son is Eagle!!! Zsolt and a friend (same one as before) had a bit too much palinka one evening, and then found a book of Hungarian expressions. Eagle’s son is Eagle figuratively blew their minds. Many years later, he told me this story – as thought this was the apex of all realizations, and I just thought it was hilarious. It is a good expression, but I still like to tease him.

And then there is:

kicsi bogaram, which means

little bugLittle Bug! This is the endearing and loving term that Zsolt’s parents call Zsolt – and me, and his sister, and their puppy. . . so, I like it very much. “My sweet little bug,” Anna often says before expressing concern that maybe we’re too cold, or tired, or overworked. I love it. 🙂

Next comes:

Minta Bunda, meaning

fuzzy bearLike a fur. As in, “I slept like fur.” That is to say you slept totally beautifully and it was a gorgeous evening of Zzzzzzs.

And last but not least:

Záp tojas, meaning

rotton eggRotten egg! This is what Zsolt might say as a tease, so then I’ll say “Ross Uborka” and that is a Hungarian expression I made up all by myself meaning ‘Bad Cucumber’. So, that’s fun. And, I hope this post was fun for you too. I was so moved by the comments on my previous post, that I thought I’d do something nice and light to say THANK YOU.

You mean a lot to me too.