Fighting off a cold makes me want to burrow under as many blankets as I can pile on the bed.
- The summer-weight king-size thin blanket that really needs to be put away now that it’s so cold in the bedroom
- The 80’s comforter in teal, burgundy and cream that I can’t bring myself to part with, though it’s starting to look a little ragged. It was the comforter that I bought myself when I moved into my own place in Chicago.
- The heavy winter duvet that I still haven’t put the duvet cover on because it’s such a pain in the neck. You have to practically crawl inside it to get it situated correctly and then it tries to eat you.
- The ancient bi-colored pink and grey twin comforter bought for me by my mom when I went away to college: we only use it for picnics nowadays
- The moose throw
- The fleecy American flag blanket that my cousin’s wife made for me after we moved to Sweden
- The eyeball-twitching sage and pepto-bismal pink granny afghan that another cousin knitted
- The beautiful purple and green flower-themed quilt that was made for our wedding by the American wife of another Swede that we haven’t had contact with now for years except the occasional Christmas card
- The soft rich dark blue handmade chenille throw with fringe that I bought at a craft fair many, many years ago
Man, that’s a lot of covers with personality.
Did you know that the word chenille means caterpillar in French? Or that it comes originally from the Latin word for dog? How did it manage to evolve in that direction? I’m afraid I don’t see the connection from dog to caterpillar, though I can see how one could move from caterpillar to a kind of yarn with protruding pile. Protruding sounds kinda dirty, but it sure sounds better than than “sticky-outy” which is what first came to mind. 😀
It’s fall with a vengeance around these here parts. If I still lived in the Midwest, no doubt I’d be cooing over woolly bears which I seem to remember are much more common in the fall. I can’t find anything with a quick Google to support that hypothesis. Alas, no woolly bears in Sweden. All the leaves have not only turned, but are falling rapidly. The trees are shedding their stuff, practically flinging it to the ground in their hurry to greet winter in, well, proper style; that is, bare as bone. When the leaves have gone you can see that the trees are really groping upwards, reaching to touch the star-speckled firmament above them. It’s the time of cobalt skies and chilly evenings, of once again greeting Orion at night, when your breath dragons round your nose and you shove your balled-up fists as deep in pockets as they go.
The earth seems to be spinning faster, but maybe it’s just me and my over-full calendar, over-stuffed schedule, over-flowing to-do list.
Swenglish Demands From the Bath
Karin: (yelling from the bathroom) Mama! Martin doesn’t get any booblegoom if I didn’t get any!
Liz: What?
Karin: (yelling louder) Martin doesn’t get any boobleSKOOM if I don’t get any!!
Liz: What are you saying?
Karin: (still yelling) Martin doesn’t get any SCUM* if I don’t!!
Liz: Scum?? (giggles madly) Martin doesn’t get any SCUM??
Liz & Martin: (giggle madly)
Liz: WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT??
pause while Anders murmurs something to Karin
Karin: BUBBLEBATH! Martin doesn’t get any bubble bath!!
Liz: OOOOHHHH. Okay.
Words to Live By: Philosophically thinking
Lovely Autumn Song in Swedish: Höstvisa (turn on your speakers!) (thanks for the link, Mia!)
*skum is foam in Swedish