Signs of Spring and other stuff

Finally! I think the tree in my courtyard is beginning to show signs of budding! Of course, it still has some dead leaves still clinging to it, but the tips of the branches have gone and turned red and I *think* I see buds.

Also in the fruit and veg section of the supermarket, the green onions are now from Italy again and not China. The coriander is coming in full bunches (instead of the poor yellowy leaves of a week or so ago) and I smell barbeque when I go out to buy groceries.

Also, my husband started wearing t-shirts under his sweaters. Geez he's gotten pale! I mean, I'm not nearly so brown now, but he's been missing out on several summers of good excavating fun, so he's almost translucent.

I exaggerate. Even at his palest he's still ruddier than many Danes. His hair is definitely brown, though. Okay, light brown-dark blond something something. He normally bleaches out in the sun, ending up a blond tanned picture of health.

Meanwhile, as part of the integration process, I've been invited to a "welcome to our town" get-together for all the newbies in the area, in May. In an hour and a half they're going to cover everything you need to know about living in Denmark. Hah! But I'm going to go anyway. I'm curious. What do *they* think we need to know? One of the funny things in the invite is that they tell you that they'll answer all your questions, like "where do I learn Danish?" Um, first, the invite is in Danish, so if I can read it, then I probably know where to learn Danish. And secondly, one of the first things the kommune did was sign me up for Danish. They signed me up so fast I don't think the ink was dry on my visa. Who actually manages to live long enough in Denmark to get one of these invitations and yet does not get nabbed by the taler-danske-gestapo?

Yesterday I was so bone-tired that I was nauseous most of the day. I hate that! I managed to snooze long enough to manage to get out to the store and buy the things I needed for taco salad, salsa and guacamole. I was a little heavy handed with the cumin in the guacamole, but at least I tasted it before I added any jalapenos. The excitement of yesterday was getting THREE jars of jalapenos for the price of TWO! Since I have been putting jalapenos on EVERYTHING lately, this was great. They also started stocking my favorite salami again. Thank god! What a bad two weeks that was! I can't stand most other lunch meats and I refuse to eat the "salads" Danes put on their bread. *Psst* Denmark, that stuff is terrible! Put it down! Back away! And stop mocking my love of peanut butter.

I really need to get my butt in gear and put together my illustrations. But I'm still reveling in NOT having a chapter to write, NOT having a writers block, and NOT worrying about research. Nope, now I'm worrying because I'm not worrying. Very restful. I'd kick back and pour myself a drink, but I did that on Tuesday and ended up RAGING drunk. Well, not raging, because I'm a happy drunk, but I did babble a lot when I guy came over to look at the rooms in the apartment. OOPS! I read "thursday" instead of "tuesday" because my husband wrote the note in Danish and I am complete crap at telling the difference between the two. I also suck at differentiating between "lordag" and "sondag" - "lordag" is saturday, but I keep seeing "lord" in the word and then think, ah, this is a state-religious place, so of course they name the day after God. But they didn't. "Sondag" is sunday and you'd think that would be easy to remember. Nope. Nada. Ab-so-freaking-not.

On that note, I also should relate a story about how I say "oh Lord" quite a lot. I don't know why. Why isn't important. Anyway, I get to Denmark and EVERYONE is saying it. Hm, I think to myself, maybe I have some latent Danish in my DNA that rises up and speaks Danish!

Uh, no.

No no no no.

People around here are saying "oh lort" which means "oh sh!t." Which means that every time I say "oh Lord" rather than some horrible swear word because I'm trying to be polite, I'm actually swearing in Danish. My husband's grandmothers probably think that I have the most awful potty mouth and that my husband has been teaching me to swear in Danish rather than how to say nice polite things to little old ladies.

Well, crap!