When the kids were still very little, Anders and I learned early on that we were lucky…we had a natural division without having to fight over it or worry about. Anything that came out of baby from the waist down was mine to deal with and anything that came out from the waist up was his. This is good in theory, but sometimes in practice it doesn’t work out. Anders, for example, changed as many diapers as I did. Last night, due to the fact that Anders is in Italy, it REALLY didn’t work out, and I learned more about the splatter radius of vomit on tile floors than I ever wanted to know. đ Rest assured, I’ll spare you the details. Karin was up all night being sick, and consequently, so was I. Martin slept like a log through the whole thing. We’re all home today.
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I don’t know if you realized this, but I’m PSYCHIC. Yes, that’s right: we had pancakes for dinner last night.
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Yesterday, driving home from work, a hawk rose and swooped alongside just as I drove up past it. For a second I thought it would swerve towards the car, and then I thought it was going to fly AT the car, but at the last moment it sheered up and away. I continued driving, thinking, “I nearly clocked a hawk.” Then I said it 5 times fast in the hopes that I had created a new tongue-twister, but alas, no.
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Lyckan Ă€r som solen gul, som en maskros lyser den igenom vĂ„r gardin, glassen smakar apelsin…Ăr lika gul som vĂ„rans bĂ„t, gul Ă€r kĂ€rleken, gul som sommaren. Lyckan Ă€r en gul kantarell, gömd under gula löv. PĂ„ min palett finns bara gul.
Happiness is like the golden sun, like a dandelion shining through our curtain, ice cream tastes like oranges. It’s gold like our boat, gold like love, gold like the summer. Happiness is a yellow chantarelle, hidden beneath golden leaves. My palette holds only gold.
That’s the sun today: low and bright, golden winter sun, sharp relief of shadows cut against the blue of an unmarked sky.
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You sat there and said “clocked a hawk” five times, didn’t you?! đ
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