Aaaagh! Remember that item on my to-do list all last year that kept not getting done because it required a hefty fee, photos, paperwork and a trip to the embassy??* This one: Renew Karin’s U.S. passport AAAGH! I never got Karin’s U.S. passport renewed! *commence total panic attack* *Which is in STOCKHOLM. Keeping fingers crossed the Copenhagen Embassy will not give me shit when I call tomorrow to make an appointment.
3 things about myself that still need work: Swearing, eyerolling, requiring instant obedience. I had a conversation with the Help Desk at work last week in which I complained about the fact that my computer seemed slower than ever and what can they do to fix it? It wasn’t the lastest updates, they maintained. They checked the memory: fine. They checked the capacity: fine. They checked a whole pile of other things: fine, fine fine. Conclusion: I am too fast for my own computer. In other words, it’s just me. I’ve been on a high, in a good mood for...
3 days in a row the sun has been shining and I’ve gone for a walk despite the below freezing temperatures. When I drove down old Odarslövsvägen yesterday, the sky opened out in front of me in a giant pink and pale purple bowl. I thought I’d never seen anything prettier. Little puffy clouds were dotted here and there like a flock of sky sheep and the sun was dropping slowly behind me pitching out every vibrant pastel in its palette for my delight. Most of the fields are still green, having never really had a chance to freeze completely,...
One thing that seems to define most expats that I’ve met is their craving for things from home that they can no longer get, and the strongest feelings alway seem to be engendered by candy. jes6ica wrote a post earlier about childhood desserts and sweets that she missed and it got me thinking about it again. It’s always been amusing to me that if you put any group of expats together, after a while the conversation will inevitably turn to food and suddenly people are moaning longingly about Pop-Tarts and Tim Tams and Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups. Here in Sweden,...
Salad’s not so bad, if you add lots of things you like to it. That wasn’t nearly as hard as I thought it would be, why the hell didn’t I start this sooner? I’m STOKED. Martin starts piano lessons this week. Does this mean we have to get a piano? Good god, where would we put it?? Karin wants to take karate lessons. Why am I not surprised? WHY doesn’t LJ let you search for communities? Why are some of the books I read as a child and loved not nearly as great as I remember them when I read...
Sometimes, especially when I’m in the middle of reading a book where the writing just blows me away, where every word seems so perfectly chosen and polished and dovetailed to a plumb with all the other words, in a way that I wouldn’t have thought to use it, in a way that is so fresh and so right that it nearly makes my hair stand on end, then I can’t imagine ever writing again myself. How could I? It’s not that I think that I have to write as perfectly as some of the writers I admire most, or even...
How lucky can you be? Is it luck or is it coincidence when things come together in that certain constellation that either leaves you gasping with admiration or smug with pride, or just aglow with fulfillment? Even the small things: getting a parking place near the door when the lot is full and cars are circling like sharks, and then discovering there are sales going on for just the things you are shopping for? Slowly closing a book in the morning that filled you up over the last few days like good cream and later in the day, pulling another...
The wind has picked up again, it roars once in awhile like a dragon or a locomotive. Driving on the highway to town and back was an exercise in rebuff: the wind against me, shoving at the car; me against the wind, firmly flexing my fingers around the wheel and correcting my course after each punchy puff. The kids didn’t even notice, they were headbanging in the backseat to Computer Blue and Crocodile Rock and snapping their fingers to Supertramp’s Old Brown Shoes. Martin crooned “disssssssssco, dissssssssssco night” over the music when Games People Play came on…and we haven’t even...
No time to say hello, goodbye! GOOD LORD, I’m busy. I’ll pencil blogging in for Friday.
They’re home, safe and sound 🙂