A Rant in Two Parts... Or Two Rants, Related, For the Price of One

Why is it that every time I say, “I don’t like [insert foodstuff]” someone always says, “That’s because you haven’t had really good [foodstuff],” often going on to cite their mom’s particularly spectacular [foodstuff] as an example?

Look, Pushy Foodie, do you go around telling gay men that they just haven’t put it in the right woman or tell lesbians that they just haven’t found the right man, yet?

If you answered, “yes,” then you are a bigot and an asshole and get the hell off my blog! *Waves shotgun threateningly*

If you answered, “No, of course not, people sure as hell know their own sexuality!” Then I want to know why the hell can you accept that I know with whom I want to have sex, but NOT what foods I like to eat?

Let’s use my old favorite: fish.

The types of fish I will eat are few and select.  I’ll eat tuna.  I’ll eat salmon.  I’ll eat fish that has been breaded, fried in butter, drizzled with lemon and slathered with hollandaise.  I’ll even eat pickled herring (just the white kind, the purple kind is pretty gross and I have to schnapps up a few times before I can eat it). 

Anything else is an effort in controlling my gag reflex.

I cannot eat pickles (leads to projectile vomiting within a few hours of consumption) so on top of not liking curried herring, I can’t eat it and DO NOT GIVE ME REMOULADE OR TARTAR SAUCE UNLESS YOU WANT YOUR BATHROOM REDECORATED LATER!

You can give me steak tartar.  Totally different foodstuff.  Much to my surprise.

Anyway, every time I say, “I don’t like fish,” a chorus of voices begins suggesting that it’s because I haven’t had really fresh fish.

Oh, I have.  AND I STILL DON’T FUCKING LIKE IT!

“It stinks,” I say.  They say, “Oh, but then it’s old!  Fresh fish smells like the sea!”

BUT THAT’S JUST IT!  IT STINKS OF THE SEA!  If I wanted to eat the sea, I’d eat the goddamned sea.  If steak smelled like a freshly mowed lawn, I wouldn’t want to eat it either.

By the way, I *love* the smell of raw meat.  Tangy iron, yum! 

Now, I like the sea.  I like to look at it.  I like the way it sounds, waves and such.  I even like the way it smells, provided that I’m nowhere near a harbor or anywhere where a large amount of seaweed washes up.  But I don’t want to eat it.  I don’t want to drink it.  I don’t want it in my mouth AT ALL.  So I certainly don’t want to eat anything that smells like it.

I have the same aversion to shellfish.  This one drives Danes crazy, because they put shrimp IN EVERYTHING.  I will eat it if it’s in something and I can’t get away with picking it out.  I just try not to look at it and I will often hold my breath when I put it in my mouth.   I have half a mind to fake a shellfish allergy.

But what really gets the Danes’ goat is when I dare to say I don’t particularly like the rye bread (rugbrød).  Hysterics follow.  “But you haven’t had really good rye bread, then.  My mom makes this really good type that I know will change your mind.”

If I introduce you to my hot gay friends, will you start batting for the other team?

I have had a lot of homemade rye bread.  It’s what Danes do when they want to appear domestic (or if in fact, they are domestic).  Of all of these, I’ve only had one I actually liked.  And when I watched him make it, I noticed a quite apparent lack of rye flour.  There was some, but only some.  Most of it was whole wheat.  That makes it whole-wheat bread, in my opinion.  And notably, it did NOT taste AT ALL of rye.

‘Cause that’s what it comes down to.  I don’t really like rye.  I don’t like a lot of beers that are dark, especially if they have that heavy rye taste.  I really hate that malt crap; that drink made from the brewing extract.  Liquid Marmite.  *Shudder* 

But my god, you just can’t tell a Dane you don’t like rye.  They get so touchy about it.  Recently, in a over-read (okay, you can overhear something, so what do you call it when you read a conversation between people on a networking site that might rhyme with Mace-hook?) conversation, a Dane, who may have had an convulsive fit when a bunch of foreigners united in their dislike of his nation’s bread, said that the reason he was so touchy about it was that food is culture, and by dissing the food, we were dissing his culture.

Dude, the next time someone says something negative about McDonalds IMMA A GONNA CUT A BITCH!!  THAT’S MY CULTURE YOU’RE MALIGNING!!

Wait a minute, no it isn’t.

And this brings us to the second part of the rant.

Really, your food is so intrinsically tied to your culture that if I happen to say that I don’t like it because it tastes like ass, it’s the same as saying that Denmark is full of nothing but freeloaders; metrosexual mamma’s boys who couldn’t find their manhood with both hands and dead-eyed women who will give you a blowjob at a bus stop just so they can see what time it is?

(BTW, I asked the Danish Boy what the most awful thing I could say about Danish culture would be and he replied, “What culture?  Danes have no culture.  Our culture is those stupid clapping hats at sports matches.”)

My god, the number of disparaging things I’ve had said to me about my country!  Forget the remarks about the food, I’ve been told Americans themselves are fat, lazy, mean, rude, stupid, and loud.  Yes, to my face.  Often over one of those extended meals Danes like to have.  Good lord, no wonder Danes invented aquavit.  And you know what, I don’t get offended (okay, maybe about the fat comment - WHO YOU CALLING FAT, CHUBS??) because it’s an opinion.  It’s not my fault if it’s wrong. 

And so what if people don’t like barbeque or pumpkin pie or McDonalds, no one in the US is going to force you to eat it.  Sure, in the South they may get tetchy about it, but then they still hold a grudge over the War of Northern Aggression (you may know it as the American Civil War).   They get tetchy about a lot of things.

And I can think of plenty of Americans who would like Danish food, including the rye bread, if they weren’t already patriotically bound to eat white bread and nothing but white bread, so help me god.  But while they may love smearing leverpostej (called liverwurst in the US) all over their shiny faces, they’d be appalled by Danish society.  “Socialist SCUM!”

Yes, a good section of the Scandinavian-American population, who keep up with the food and other Scandinavian traditions, are Republicans who think that the Danes are only Communists who depend on western handouts to keep the economies afloat.

So what will it be, Foodie Danes?  Would you rather have someone who likes the culture (and I use the term loosely) and the governing system but not the rye bread or the person who, given the chance, would strip you of your free health care while enjoying your lunch pack?

Not much of a post

Oi vey.

In the middle of the night I write brilliant posts in my head about the inequalities of the world, or assholes that need a swift kick in the taco, or silly things my child has done.

But as I sat here with an hour on my hands, a precious hour where the Spawn was being walked in her stroller by the DB, an hour where I had no laundry to fold, okay, maybe I had dishes to wash but screw them, and no pressing need to shower, I could sit down and write one of those blog posts.  I just couldn't bring myself to write a single one.

• A post about how people need to stop asking the childless-by-choice people when they're going to have children and going on about how "I don't want kids" is somehow not a good enough reason or deemed selfish, god only knows why, and this leads to justification, which leads to those of us with kids to justify (if only to ourselves) why we decided to have kids, and there's frankly no good reason other than "I wanted to pass along my genes and my knowledge" but because this is also deemed selfish, what you get is two groups of people yelling "you selfish bitch" at each other and really, seriously WHO THE HELL CARES?  By God, if you don't want to have kids, you should be able to say, proudly, "I don't want to have kids" and people who can't accept that should be shot.  Because I'm sick of hearing from each side how much better they are than the other.  The only reason we find ourselves doing that is because of the assholes who keep demanding that people have some deep reasoning behind their procreative choices.  GAH!

Unless your parents turned in a well-constructed essay on why you deserve to exist, as well as a balanced budget, letters of recommendation from people who can testify to their abilities to parent, you shouldn't even BE here, you planet-cluttering sprog!

• A post about how shocked I was to discover that while I am at the perfect BMI number, right between too skinny and too fat, I STILL don't fit into any clothes.  I know from my plus-sized friends that clothes don't fit big girls.  I know from being rail-thin that clothes aren't made for the skinny (no matter how much you may whine about "only models fit these clothes," I tell you, not the clothes on the rack, nosireebob). So now at the perfect size and shape, if I still don't fit into anything, I can only come to one conclusion - clothes were not made to be worn.  They are made only so that closets, chests of drawers, and wardrobes have a function.  It's a plot from Ikea to sell more flat-pack furniture.

Looks a lot more insidious now, doesn't it?

• A post about how the Spawn continues to teach me about life, the universe and everything.  Including: Mommy can pick Mommy's nose.  Baby can pick Mommy's nose.  Nobody on this planet is going to pick Baby's nose!  Back off bitch!  I bite you!  NOM NOM!  

Trying to get the snot out of my child's nose is like reaching into a sink garbage disposal in a horror film.

That's not soap bubbles!  It's Soap Slime from Space!!

It kills you DEAD!  And leaves a nasty waxy coating on your wine glasses!

AHHHHHHHHHH!

• A post about how culture shock makes friendships hard because you're all moving through the stages at different times so one day you are all Honeymoon stage and hating on the haters and then the next day you are telling the newbies to take off the damn rosy glasses and then suddenly you are over it and focusing on the important things in life, like who ate the damn After Eights because *I* sure as hell didn't get any and people are telling you that you've drunk the kool-aid and you're all, take that back or I'll cut you and then you feel like you can't even tell people that you're happy because they get all nasty and tell you that you must not be paying attention or are deluded or are naive and you start thinking deep thoughts like "misery loves company, while happiness is a solitary pursuit" and think about changing your name and leaving no forwarding address.

Or until you block me, whore

• A post about teething and why did Mother Nature arm infants before they learn how to understand "NO" and "OUCH"?  Mother Nature is a total bitch.

I did a Google image search for Mother Nature and the hippistaria overwhelmed me.

I feel like I'm having LSD flashbacks and I've never even DONE LSD, so how sucky is that?

In the end, I just couldn't be bothered to write those posts, or finish those posts.  Maybe in part because I know that some people might read one of those posts and get offended or hurt or pissed off, even though I'm not writing about a specific person or event although I am inspired by a collection of people, events and no small part by some rather violent mommy-forums that I am SO not going to read any more.  (Childless-by-choice friends - if you ever feel like the Mommies of the world are judging you, don't worry, they are saving their major judgements for the Other Mothers.  Google "cry it out.")  Maybe I'm too distracted because I've gotten a damn head cold, which I am sharing with the Spawn.  She gets the runny nose, I get the stuffy head.  Maybe it's because just one hour to be brilliant and focused is just too much pressure.

So instead I opted for this post which isn't much of a post but a series of post-lets.  Which took me all damn day to write anyway.

I was going to say "post-it" but that term has already been taken.

Apparently.

Ranting and Raving: On car seats

Very important note: I live in Denmark where car prices are at least 180% higher because of taxes.  A basic brand new Volvo station wagon, the epitome of safety, costs $30,000 in the US and $97,000 in Denmark. A more modest Ford Focus costs $17,300 in the US and $48,720 in DK.   When I say we can’t afford a new car, I’m not bitching about a “mere” $10,000 investment.  Car seats are also far more expensive, starting at $233 for just the seat.

I tell you it’s a conspiracy.  A conspiracy between car companies and baby car seat manufacturers.

It goes like this: you have to buy a brand spanking new car seat for your baby.  Why?  Because of SAFETY.  Old seats don’t have 5-point harnesses.  The plastic of an old seat may be compromised.  It may not hold up in an accident!  It may have been in an accident, rendering it NO GOOD.  An old car seat is worse than… than… NAZIS!  You wouldn’t put your precious bundle in the arms of HITLER would you?  I didn’t THINK so.

So you gotta buy a new car seat.

Only, here’s the funny bit - new car seats are designed to only go into new cars.  Doubt me?  Try sticking a new car seat into a 1998 Volvo station wagon, following the directions printed on the side of said seat.  It doesn’t fit.  You were SUPPOSED to be using an Isofix base, which cost an extra $233 (‘cause they’re sold separately in Denmark doncha know), but since you have an older car that doesn’t HAVE Isofix capabilities you are stuck trying to follow the alternative directions for LOSERS who don’t have new cars.  Obviously, with the introduction of Isofix, car seat designers have decided to punish those of us who dare drive old cars because these instructions just don’t work. 

I mean you CAN buckle the seat into your car… as long as you don’t actually PLAN on putting the baby in it.  

The seat belt wraps around, over and under the seat.  If your child is already in the chair, she’s going to be tilted and jostled while you wrestle with the belt.  If you plan on putting the child in after you fit the chair in, you will need to bend and twist the baby like a balloon artist to get her in.  Alas, having gotten the baby and the seat in, you discover that she’s tilted in a way that forces her to either sit straight up or slump over at the waist.  Your child will have an uncomfortable ride with her head planted between her feet.

HOW IS THIS SAFE???

You can ignore the directions and find an alternative way of strapping the seat in…

BUT IS IT SAFE???

Well, if you are really worried about it, just buy a new car!

Bwahahahah!

And it doesn’t end when your child gets bigger.  Oh no.  A child needs to be in a car seat until age - get this - “at least age 8... preferably 12." http://www.aap.org/advocacy/releases/carseat2011.htm

This means that your child will finally be able to sit in the front seat a mere four years before you hand him or her the keys and say “go get mamma a box of bon bons.”

But how can you argue with SAFETY? What kind of parent doesn’t want to make sure their child is safe??  Who wouldn’t expend every effort, no matter what cost, to protect their baby???  If you can’t afford to buy a new car seat every year for 12 years and a new car every 3 years well then, you shouldn’t have had a child! This isn’t the latest fashions from Baby Gap or the latest toys from Lamaze - THIS IS THE WELL-BEING OF YOUR BUNDLE OF JOY!!

Statistics back up the car and car-seat makers - putting your child in an approved and properly installed car seat has DRASTICALLY lowered the number of deaths and injuries in car accidents.

Of course, the best way to lower the numbers even more is to never put your child in a car.  Abstinence, so I hear, is the only way to be 100% safe.  In fact, we should just get rid of cars all together.  And then we can ride about on bikes or, better yet, WALK.  (Because have you seen the seats for children on the backs of bikes?  UNSAFE!!)  I mean, seriously, a car seat until 12?!  Why don’t we just roll them in bubble wrap and unwrap them for their weddings?  We can explain the facts of life as we march them up the aisle.  Or they can just figure it out on their own.  God forbid we tell our children about such things, it may scar them for life.  They’ll have to see a therapist! 

Do you think I’m going over the top here?  That I’m exaggerating the pressure on parents from the AAP and other safety agencies?  I’m soooooo not.  Go here: http://www.safekids.org/ Have fun!  Or don’t, cause it could lead to injury and NO ONE should EVER be INJURED.  EVER.

Don’t get me wrong.  I’m not advocating letting my child play with marbles and paring knives.  Nor am I going to just chuck her in the back seat and tell her, “hang on kiddo, mommy has a ferry boat to catch!”  I’m just saying that in its exuberance to make sure every child reaches 14 without a scratch (after which it’s open season on teens), society has sacrificed reason and feasibility.  It places an unobtainable burden on parents below a certain tax bracket, guaranteeing they are labeled “bad parent” before they’ve even had a chance to teach their kid to open beer bottles with their pacifiers. 

Now I’m pretty much okay being told I’m a bad parent because I am not sending my child to day care until she’s older, because I read “The Three Little Bears” to her instead of “Much Ado About Nothing” and because we dance to Lady Gaga rather than Mozart.  Those are my choices on how to raise my child.  But I am NOT okay with being told that I’m a bad parent because I can’t afford to keep my child safe. I want more than anything to keep my child safe.  That my ability to do so is limited by my income PISSES ME OFF.   Particularly since car companies and especially car seat designers seem to have decided to ignore the vast majority of the population that drives old, used cars and *GASP* had the audacity to breed.  Children are NOT a privilege restricted to the wealthy.

So, car companies and car seat manufacturers, get your butts back into your engineering chairs and figure out a way that us normal folks can keep our children safe in our older, but still fully functioning vehicles!  

I'm tired, so don't expect this post to be linear, let alone grammatically correct

The brain has been churning out some doozies lately.  Mostly the "oh my god there's a ghost standing next to your bed NO DON'T OPEN YOUR EYES IT'LL TOTALLY KILL YOU IF YOU OPEN YOUR EYES!" variety.  'Night terrors,' my mom calls them.  Last night I was trying to help a talking lab mouse come up with a plan to defeat the evil wizard who had transmogrified him (I guess you had to be there) when something grabbed my shoulders and dragged me, backwards, through the wall and down a dark well.  I could smell the dank air, I could feel the wind rushing past my face, and all the blood was rushing from my head towards my feet because I was moving That Fast.  I think it was a well.  I was a little preoccupied to ask what manner of architecture I was falling through at the time.

As I was plunging towards god-knows what, all I could think of was "if you hit the ground in your dream you will DIE and if your peacefully sleeping husband doesn't wake in time, SO WILL THE BABY!" and I flipped myself around in that dream and began clawing at the air trying to either stop falling or wake up.  I don't think I've ever struggled so hard in a dream before.  I was crying, I could feel the tears on my face - complete and utter gibbering panic.

I'm shocked that I didn't wake with a kick or a scream.  I hadn't actually been crying in my sleep either, because my eyes were dry.  And I hadn't flailed about.  Apparently I was completely silent and still because my husband continued to sleep peacefully next to me, and since he wakes up if I so much as roll over, the exertions in my dream had to be completely in my head.

Trying to get to sleep after that was pretty near impossible.  I kindly let the DB continue sleeping.  But then he was a bit of an ass (in my humble opinion) this morning, so we'll see if I'm so freaking nice TONIGHT!

And today hasn't really been my day.  Danish went really well, so that's something to hold on to.  But yet again I'm having trouble with my Nem-ID, the brilliant idea somebody came up with that ties all of your accounts, both government (like your tax info) and private (like your bank account), to one 9 digit number and a randomly generated four digit code that needs a special card to find the random 6 digit response.

Previously on Life in The-Land-Where-We-Fix-Things-That-Aren't-Broken: I was sent a Nem-ID by my bank.  It arrived when I wasn't here.  It got mislaid.  I got another Nem-ID.  The bank had on record that I had one Nem-ID, let's call it #A, the government that I had another, we'll call that #B.  Got bank to transfer my account from #A to #B.  Used #B to do important things like check taxes and paystubs.  Happiness and joy all around.

Got mail today from the Nem-ID-issuing-peoples that they've blocked my Nem-ID because it isn't being used.  Called them up.  They tell me that they've blocked #A oh, and that bank is using #B, so I need to call the bank and get them to transfer account to #A.  Which they've blocked.  Did I mention they blocked #A, the number they *want* me to transfer accounts to?  I say, I don't use #A, I use #B, I don't want to use #A, I want to keep using #B, that's the number I had signed up to use to check taxes and paystubs.  Ah, says the man, but we changed your account to #A.  Well, I say, change it back.  We can't, says the man, unless you have a Danish passport or Danish driver's license.  You gotta be fucking kidding me, I say, I haven't either of those things.  I'm 100% foreign.  Ah, well, the man says, then you probably don't need to use the civic/government services that require you to use Nem-ID.  Ah, no, I say, I do in fact need to be able to check my taxes and my paystubs, both of which are civic/government services WHICH IS WHY I GOT #B IN THE FIRST PLACE.  Oh dear, says the man, this is awkward, you'll have to go to the citizen services in your local city hall and ask them to change #A to #B.  Brilliant, I say, because I got #B from them in the first place and made sure they had set my civic/government accounts to that number and I certainly never asked them to change it to #A so why is it now changed, I ask you, because *I* didn't do it.  I'm afraid I don't know, said the man, and all I can say is that I'm really really sorry that you are getting bounced around like this.  You're telling me, I say, this is the least NEM (nem means "easy") thing I've ever had to do in Denmark! [Insert pleasantries] End Call.

Nem-ID is NOT EASY.  Taking the bus is easier.  And I have serious issues trying to take the right bus in the right direction in this country.  THAT'S HOW NOT EASY THIS NEM-ID IS!   And I'm pretty sick and tired of telling you all about it, cause it's boring.

Most of the time I can solve my problems with one phone call.  Or an email.  It's a pretty small country.  But it is also highly dependent on it's overburdened bureaucracy and it seems that for every time it tries to make things more streamlined or simple, it actually doubles the amount of work and the number of complications that can arise.  But hey, at least now my tax information is SAFE.  'Cause you know that thieves love nothing better than to see what exemptions you've signed up for and how much is in your retirement account.  And thank god my bank account is safe.  It's a continual problem, all my American accounts are constantly being hacked and... wait... no they haven't.  Heck, my bank calls me if they think I've been hacked, meaning I've gotten some middle of the night calls because they think I'm in the US and that some whack job is running around some weird land called "Denmark" using my cards.

The only improvement is that it got rid of the digital signature that was wedded to your personal computer, meaning you couldn't check your bank account from just any computer without 20 extra passwords and account numbers.  Except of course, if you used a Mac because the digital signature wasn't always compatible with the OS or internet program you used (say, if you refused to put Internet Explorer on your computer because IE is the DEVIL) so it didn't matter if you had signed up for a digital signature because it didn't freaking work.

Meanwhile I called up this pathology clinic in Odense because they are pestering me about having a pap-smear because YOU DON'T WANT TO DIE from irregular cells, often caused by HPV, even though they aren't CANCER, but can lead to CANCER.  AND YOU CAN DIE FROM CANCER YOU KNOW.  I gave them a ring because, dude, I'm pregnant, pap-smears are not really the best plan for me at this time.  The nurse lady agreed and then said, how about three months from now?  Three months?  Seriously?  I won't be done [TMI] oozing bloody bits by then [/TMI].  I may have started my first post-spawn [TMI] menstruation [/TMI] but really, I DO NOT WANT YOU GOING UP IN THERE RIGHT AFTER I PUSHED SOMETHING THAT LARGE OUT.  So she'll send me a letter again at a later date.  How lovely.  God knows that when I wanted a damn exam I had to stomp my feet to get one, now they're all HAVE A SMEAR!  GO ON!  HAVEAFEAKINGSMEARTODAY!

Sigh.

On the plus side, the DB has found a driving school that I can go to, so I can get the damn Danish drivers license and play with the Nem-ID people drive a car legally in this country.

Maybe it's pregnancy irritability or maybe it's you, ya smug bitch

I was sent a link to this blog: Teresa Strasser on Teresa Strasser entitled "Formula isn't poison" and as I read it I found myself getting more and more irritated.  By the end I was going to reach through my computer screen and slap the woman.

WHY?

At a fundamental level she's saying what I believe: breastfeeding *is* better, but sometimes it just doesn't work for mother or baby and a mother should be able to decide to do one or the other as long as it results in happy and healthy mom and happy and healthy baby, without people judging her.

So here's a woman who breastfed for months, finally switching to formula completely when it became apparent that she just couldn't breast feed any more.  And I'm a gonna cut the chick!

WHY?

It is pregnancy irritability?  Am I actually a terrible person who tries not to judge, but then totally does??  I agonized over this post.  At first I didn't want to write it.  After all, I'm still pre-baby, I have no idea how breastfeeding is going to go!  Who am I to talk?  And the last thing anybody needs is another irritated mommy-blogger bashing another mother!

So I read the article again.  ARGH! *stomping about* I am so bloody IRRITATED BY THIS WOMAN!  Then I read the comments.  Maybe that would help get my usual "hey, lay off the mom, you horrible women"-juices flowing.  Well, FAIL to that, but it did finally clue me in to what was pissing me off.

I think commenter #8 put it best:

Breastfeed, don't breastfeed. Just don't feel smug about either decision.

And that's the problem.  This entire post if filled with smugness, from beginning to end.  I hate smug.

First, she's still going to a breastfeeding group, even though she's no longer breastfeeding.  It's a support group for women who breastfeed, for Christ's sake, when you whip out the bottle of formula and start feeding your child, OF COURSE THEY ARE GOING TO LOOK AT YOU WEIRD!  It's like going to an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting and cracking open a Pabst Blue Ribbon (it's a cheap American beer).

Believe me when you are thinking,

"Listen, you crazy mamas, it's not all about the breastfeeding. I'm sure you can bond with your babies in lots of ways that don't involve turning your lives inside out just to make sure you never expose your baby to an ounce of formula. It's not poison."

They can see it on your face, and you know what, they don't appreciate it.  They've decided to try to breastfeed through the problems and challenges, they do not need you sashaying in and acting all superior.  You even say you are!  You say you go to these meetings,

Maybe just to kill time, but maybe also to feel better about the formula thing because these moms look downright miserable. In the end, instead of feeling inferior, I just feel relieved.

That, right there?  Smugness.  Insufferable smugness.  That has earned you one bitch-slap.

The second comes with this line,

The dark secret for me is that I had to work.

Oh my god, someone call the Pope, a woman had to work so she just couldn't breastfeed any more.  I'm sorry Teresa, but you are not the world's first working mom.  Other women do it.  Work is not the reason you couldn't breastfeed any more.  It may have contributed, but citing work as the "dark secret" is ignoring all the women who work full-time and pump as well as all the SAHMs for whom breastfeeding just didn't work out.  Especially since it turns out you were only working 4 hours a day.  I mean, good lord, where did you find the time to have a child?!  Call Ripley's Believe it or Not, call the Guinness Book of World Records, let's get this story out on the wire!  This earns you bitch-slap number two.

Then we have this,

I'm angry that the unintended consequence of this well-meaning "breast is best" movement is to guilt working moms into nursing on demand, all the time, all night long, for six months or until most jobs won't want you back. The accidental message is that if you don't press the pause button on every aspect of your life to nurse your baby, you are the worst thing in the world: a bad mom.

I'm with you on the unintentional "breast is best" guilt that leaves women stressed out, freaked out, and babies unhappy and in some cases, starving.  I'm also with you against the "pause every aspect of your life to nurse your baby or be a Bad Mom" trolls.  But uh, "for six months or until most jobs won't want you back"?  Honey, wake up and look at the nation around you, most women do not have six months maternity leave.

"Actual paid "maternity leave" — while the norm in every other developed country — is unusual in the United States, although some enlightened companies do offer new parents paid time off, up to six weeks in some cases."  Babycenter.com on maternity leave in the US

Nearly one-quarter (24 percent) of the best employers for working mothers provide four or fewer weeks of paid maternity leave, and half (52 percent) provide six weeks or less, according to an Institute for Women’s Policy Research analysis of data provided by Working Mother Media, Inc., publisher of Working Mother magazine. Institute for Women's Policy Research

Heck, the New York Times ran an article today about The Fight for Paid Maternity Leave.

Oh, but maybe these nursing moms have saved up money so they can take unpaid leave?

The Family and Medical Leave Act (FMLA) requires certain employers to allow eligible workers to take up to 12 weeks unpaid, job-protected leave each year. Columbia University Clearninghouse on International Developments in Child, Youth & Family Policies

So, six months, Teresa?  You are living in a fantasy world.  The "Breast is Best" tigers may also be living in a fantasy world, where all women have the freedom to breastfeed for six months, but a shocking amount of moms manage it with breast pumps and bathroom stalls for even longer.

Teresa, I'M NOT SAYING YOU ARE A BAD MOM!  I'm just saying that you cannot use work as your shield in your fight for formula feeding.  You profess several times how much you just loved nursing and how you

... did feel like a natural woman. At the pediatrician, I felt like a rock star. Around formula-feeding moms, I felt a potent mixture of superiority and pity.

Mayhaps this was a case of the lady doth protest too much?  Or are you just kind of a smug bitch?  Because you seem to feel superior whether you are breastfeeding or formula feeding!

Get off your high horse, look deep inside.  Why did you stop breastfeeding?  And then tell it like it is and stand up for that reason.  Women will support you for that, as long as it's honest.  Anyone who doesn't can go kiss your ass.

And for the love of GOD, stop going to breastfeeding groups!  If you are lonely or guilty, like you say, form your own group of formula feeding women who support each other in their choices!

Finally, I find that you blame working on your book "Exploiting My Baby" which has now been optioned by Sony as the reason why you feel like you might be neglecting your child ABSOLUTELY FREAKING HILARIOUS!  Seriously, do you not see the irony?  'Cause I'm shrieking with laughter over here.

***EDIT: For a woman who is not going to breastfeed and who I support whole-heartedly, read this blog post on Babble.com.  Monica has thought long and hard about it and researched and decided that she's going to do what's best for her as well as her baby.  She's extremely open and honest about it, not the least bit smug, and I wish her all the best.  Read those comments.

How to get hate mail without really trying...

Your humorous Archaeogoddess will be back soon.  Until then I give you my thoughts about a recent article in USA Today - NYC panel clears way for mosque near Ground Zero.

There was some discussion on the interwebs about whether or not this was a good thing or a bad thing.   I seem to be once again in the minority, but what else is new?  Sure you can send me angry emails or leave argumentative comments, but as William McAdoo said (awesome name, by the way) "It is impossible to defeat an ignorant man in an argument."  If you think I'm ignorant, then there's no point in arguing with me and since I'm bound to think that you are ignorant if you tell me I'm an idiot, then I'm not going to be drawn into an argument with you.

Here's my two cents:

I have absolutely no problem with this center being built.  It's two blocks away - in NYC, that's practically on the other side of the island.  According to the article, it's the city officials that are saying the decision was based on freedom of religion and property laws, the organization that is responsible says it's a space for moderate muslim voices.  It's already a prayer space and will include a memorial to those who died on 9/11 - who were of many nationalities and many religions.

People are forgetting that it wasn't Muslims or Islam that attacked the city that day, but a group of men with hate in their hearts.  Do we ban churches from being built near abortion clinics that were bombed or in downtown Oklahoma City?  No, because the so-called Christians who carried out those attacks of terror are not seen as representative of their religion, but rather for what they are - fanatics, lunatics, and evil people perverting a message of peace into one of war against other human beings.   We don't ban Germans from the US because of Hitler and the Nazis, we recognized that sharing a nationality or religion with an evil person does not make everyone of that nationality or religion bad.  I exhort you to remember with regret how we interned the Japanese-Americans in WWII (a national shame that should never be forgotten and never again repeated), and yet we seem to be once again prepared to trample over the rights of American citizens because of a lunatic living in a cave ranting to the world by cassette tape!

Let us take a moment to remember what really happened on 9/11 - 19 men, following the rambling speeches of a sociopath, murdered 2,976 people from over 70 (some say over 90) nations, most of them civilians.  They claimed we brought this upon ourselves because we have a base in Saudi Arabia, support Israel, and had sanctions against Iraq.  The casualties from the other countries apparently brought it on themselves by working to provide for their families.

They may have hoped to provoke a world wide Islamic uprising, but instead the attacks received condemnation by the vast majority of the planet, despite the videos of some idiots celebrating.  Even though these evil, mad men have issued fatwa after fatwa, saying it is the duty of every Muslim to kill Americans, outside of the theater of war, how many Americans are targeted and killed by Muslims?  Very very few.  This is not a war between the US and Islam.  Being a muslim does not make you an enemy or even a fundamentalist sympathizer.  Muslims in America have born a multitude of hate crimes and 10 years of discrimination based on their religion.  People of Middle Eastern decent have also suffered for the color of their skin, no matter what religion they practice.  Building a community center to serve the needs of the American citizens who are Muslim in no way should be seen as a validation of the fanatics who erroneously claim to be true believers.  Instead it shows that the US is committed to maintaining its values and the rights of its citizens despite the perversions of a few.

Denmark? ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME???

This just in from an article in the Copenhagen Post. <-----Link, in case you don't know. Go, read it. I'll wait.

Okay, for those of you too busy or getting this via email: In increasingly desperate measures, Denmark continues to try to keep out the "darkies" without saying, "whites only." Their new ploy - charge people who come to Denmark for Family Reunification 3,000 kr to take a Danish language and culture test.

I better start taking donations so I can pay for my test, because wouldn't you know, I'm here on a Family Reunification Visa!!

I am not so worried about taking the test, because I'm already required by the government to learn Danish and I have to pass a series of tests ALREADY in order to stay, so what's one more... but dude, YOU ARE GOING TO MAKE ME PAY FOR A GOVERNMENT REQUIRED TEST??? WAS THE $10,000 I HAVE TO KEEP IN A SEALED BANK VAULT NOT ENOUGH FOR YOU PEOPLE???

I really hope this leads to a Danish brain drain as Danes who fall in love with foreigners realize that really, they should just stay with their foreign spouse and contribute to that foreign country's economy rather than bring said spouse back to DK where we are treated like second-class citizens.

And the first person who suggests that we give North Americans an exemption will be shot. That is just disgusting and degrading that you would think that I would want to use my skin color or my religion or my so-called race to step in front of people who are fleeing for their lives or looking for somewhere where they can make something of themselves.

Either require the test of EVERYONE: highly skilled workers, asylum seekers, family reunification-ators, residency and citizenship; or NO ONE.

This is SO not worth the free health care.

Some more on Islam and Denmark and then I'll find something else to write about....

I take the following from the article I found through the Wikipedia site Sigurt (a commenter on the post below) suggested... and I happen to know one of the authors. :-)

LINK to article

Some quotes:

"Currently, although more than twenty informal mosques exist in Copenhagen, in classrooms and basements spread throughout the city, there is no single gathering place for Muslims in Denmark. On Eid and other important holidays that necessitate large groups of Muslims worshipping together, they must resort to renting out conference halls or stadiums, Walliat Khan of the Copenhagen City Council explained in “Amager Bladet” on April 3, 2001."

(The only purpose built mosque is Nusrat Djahan, built in 1967. As Wikipedia states: "Other mosques exist but are not built for the explicit purpose. It is not forbidden to build mosques or any other religious buildings in Denmark but there are very strict zoning laws. ")

“The Constitution guarantees freedom of religion, but not religious equality,” writes Jørgen Bæk Simonsen (Simonsen 2001: 3).

“There should be freedom of religion but not equality of religion. Denmark is first and foremost a Christian country, and we should support our religion,” he [Peter Skaarup, DF member] says.

Jørgen Bæk Simonsen of the Carsten Niebuhr Institute of Near Eastern Studies at the University of Copenhagen sees the lack of a mosque in Denmark as an embarrassment for Danes. “There definitely should be a mosque – it’s depressing that we’ve had Muslims for thirty years and we’re still denying them this basic respect,” he says.

---

The article also details the ongoing problems the Danish Muslim community has - lack of unity, for one. This makes sense if you think about the various different Islams that make up Greater Islam, in the same way that there are many Christianities that make up Greater Christendom. Example: I am NOT a Lutheran. Don't expect me to Lutheranize and don't expect me to frequent a Lutheran church. I've opted out of participating in church taxes, every fiber of my being cries out for separation of church and state, but it does rankle a bit that were I to decide to take part in organized religion, I would have a heck of a time getting to the one and only Anglican Church, which is in Copenhagen (but hey, 8 times a year the priest comes to Århus!).

Now I'm pretty laid back about churchy things. I was married by a Lutheran minister in a Lutheran church because the options were very limited (my father-in-law is a Lutheran minister, ponder that for a moment). But not everyone is and so trying to get various factions of Islam to work together is like asking the Irish Protestants and Catholics to build ONE church that will satisfy BOTH their needs.

A little crazy, if you ask me.

So what is the solution? I'd say the big one is changing what "integration" means in Danish. I'll wait until you all stop laughing. I can tell you what won't work: maintaining the status quo. The way we're headed will only continue to polarize the two sides and driver deeper divisions between nye Dansker and, for lack of a better term (and I approve the irony of my new term) gammel Dansker.

It's time we all became nye Dansker: Amerikaner-Dansker, Englænder-Dansker, Pakistaner-Dansker, etc.

Join me Danes, be part of New Denmark!

Ah the humor of it all...

So in order to understand why this is so funny, you must first be aware of Denmark's newest brilliant move to counter extreme Islam.

Take away the passports of Muslim children so they can't be sent back for "reeducation." Best line: "I think it’s strange for these people to have chosen to come to Denmark and then, when their child becomes too Danish, they send them back to be re-educated in the parents’ culture, religion and traditions." Henrik Dam Kristensen, Social Democrats' spokesman on integration.

Because, you know, god forbid that muslim children learn about their parents' culture.

Okay, I'll bite. There are those who are sent back for intensive Islamic training and there are those who are sent back to get married. But can someone tell me how many children visit the "old country" every year? If there are 14 cases of re-education, how many are completely banal? You know, meet the family, see the sights, learn to speak Arabic without that stupid Danish accent, etc. Is that worth stripping the right to freedom of movement for an entire section of society? Many of these children are Danish citizens for crying out loud! Is Denmark saying, yeah, they're citizens, but only second class, so they don't get to have the rights *real* Danish citizens enjoy.

And now the irony: read about what happened at the international summer school in Funen?

See, a bunch of Danish parents, living abroad, sent their children TO DENMARK, AND I QUOTE, "to learn more about their heritage." (And they now might have swine flu. But that's not the purpose of this story.)

So, it's okay for Danish parents to send their child for Danish re-education because it's about learning about their heritage. But GOD FORBID that immigrants to Denmark do the same, because they've chosen to come to Denmark and so should be dropping all things related to their past, including culture, religion, and traditions (ie HERITAGE).

The comment at the bottom of the second article had me in hysterics. Seasonticket, you make me laugh my ass off.

Here's an idea for you, Denmark. Let your muslim minorities open some damn mosques and schools HERE. Then children wouldn't have to leave the country to learn about their heritage and you could, theoretically, keep a watch over what they are learning. Maybe, *GASP* some of you could even go and learn something about the culture that lives alongside of yours! Stop forcing us all the pretend that we had no culture or heritage before we washed up on the shores of this cold misbegotten country. (Oh, I'm an American and so I don't have culture or heritage? Well, let me strip those Levi's and Nike's off you, take your hot dogs, potatoes [yes, you idiot, they come from the Americas and if you deny the US culture and heritage, you are denying the rest of the Americas too, seeing how we were all settled at the same time by a bunch of loser immigrants from Europe], tomatoes [sorry, that too], and leave. Oh, and shut down your movie theaters, because we invented the motion picture industry and even your damn Lars von Trier would have been stuck depressed and alone if it wasn't for Kodak [American!!].)

Sometimes the hypocrisy of it all really stings.

The Great White North

I am a fan of Stuff White People Like.

It amuses me and often I find myself thinking, "doh, what a white thing I just did!"

Of course, I *am* white, so it's not like I'm trying to be a different ethnic group or anything.

I love this web-site because I can sit and laugh and say to myself (out-loud because I lack all social skills) "oh, that is so true! I have *got* to stop doing that!!" Not that I'm going to stop recycling or desiring North Face gear or throw away my pea coat, but at least I can laugh about it. I have a great love of laughing at myself, so maybe that's why I am so entertained.

Anyway, part of the premise of this web-site is to "teach" others how to interact with white people. And I'm thinking to myself, this could be an instruction manuel on how to interact with Danes. Because Denmark is THE country of white people. Almost every post relates to it.

#120: Taking a year off
This is THE Danish thing to do. Personally, I think it's a great idea... but then, I'm white. :-) While most Americans can't really afford to do this AND go traveling (taking a year off is more often than not a chance to work your butt off and make some cash for college), Danish kids don't need to save up for school. Since they're not only getting a free education, but also get some money from the state to do so, they can blow their savings on a nice exotic tour of somewhere. And for Danes, Europe is just south of them! I get so frustrated with Europeans (this is not limited to Danes) who are so surprised that I haven't visited Spain or spent summers in southern Italy. Um... it was kinda farther away from me than it was for you. And I sorta had to work to pay off my school.

This led to a discussion last night with my over-tired cranky husband. He laughed when I told him how I managed to get thought my education for very cheap and how I'm proud of how low my loans were. He was amused because he's been paying my bill for the last two years and to him, $6000 a year is NOT cheap for school. Telling him how much it normally cost didn't make much of a dent. Trying to explain that there is tuition, fees, and health care bundled together as well as food and housing costs that are far above what we pay in rent here really didn't compute. Finally getting really mad and pointing out that I was working to pay my food and housing costs because this is not covered by anyone sort of got through to him. Most American kids have to work to pay for food and housing costs. They then take out loans to cover the tuition et al. By going to inexpensive schools, I managed to keep the tuition down and fortunately my parents were able to put money towards it and I was able to keep my grades high enough to get some scholarships. I worked to cover the incidental needs, food, roof, etc. I did have to take loans, but only small ones to cover what was left. Graduate school is more like the Danish system, because they pay you and they waive your tuition. Until you run out of funding, but hopefully by then you just have to pay a minimum fee, as I do.

I'm still a bit frustrated about the discussion last night, as you can probably tell.

#97: Scarves
I don't know when the keffiyeh became part of the Danish wardrobe, but you can buy it in H&M with sparkly strings woven through it. It's like "wow, how hip, pretty, and political!" And you can't really ask the Dane wearing it if they actually support the Palestinian movement (almost all the keffiyehs on people around here are black and white = Palestinian) because the answer is "of course!" Not that they've been there or follow the news in the Middle East with regularity, but that's okay, you can support a political position without knowing anything about it - just ask Republicans. HA! Sorry, so sorry. I really couldn't resist. I have sane Republican friends (as well as several insane Republican family members), really. (Is that like certain politicians who say they have black friends or gay friends in order to try to suggest they aren't racist homo-phobic asshats?)

Anyway, as you can see in my picture, I am wearing a keffiyeh. So who am I to talk? Well, I wear it to keep the sun out of my eyes and the sweat off my brow. I don't wear it as a scarf. I don't wear it outside of Israel. Yes, I do wear it in Israel. Yes, I do know what political message I am sending when I wear it there. I usually keep it to the field. I'm not walking around downtown Jerusalem wearing it. Because, duh, it's really for men. Women do not wear keffiyehs. I'd look like a complete idiot tourist wearing it around town!

What I've learned from reading "Stuff White People Like" is that upper-middle class America is ridiculously Dane-like. Probably one of the reasons so much of Denmark seems normal to me. It also explains why I get so frustrated with Denmark some times. I feel like some of the worst behavior I thought I'd left behind followed me here. If we were to follow the lead of certain American who are calling for the end of immigration, making English the official language, and insisting on institutionalizing American-ness, we'll end up like Denmark! Too much white, too much homogeneity! Ack!!

There is good stuff about Denmark. Really. The idea that people ought to be treated equally and have equal access to education and health care is a noble one. It gets a little perverted when it becomes "all people are equal, which means same, and if they aren't, well, we'll just come up with a system for making sure they are." I want to go hit people about the head. "Equal does not mean SAME!" GAH!

(Meanwhile if one more Republican friend or relative tries to convince me that Obama is Satan and America is becoming a socialist ungodly nation, I'm going to scream.)

And a G&T makes everything better!

So we got a little wasted last night, the husband and I.

Not only have the money issues been weighing heavily, he's been also having a hard time at work. He's covering this trial and his articles are getting reworked to fit into the prevailing view that immigrants are bad and need to be locked up. He's going to try to pitch an idea at his editor where he goes and interviews the families and tries to show that the kids are human beings and not that different from the the Danski kids who throw rocks and yell "fuck the po-liti", but he expects it to be turned down. He's absolutely livid at Århus Stiftidende, the woman covering the trial was there for 10 minutes, heard the police chief on the stand, ran out and wrote this report about how dangerous Gellerup was and how the police are scared for their lives and are threatened by this young group of kids. The truth? Five are on trial for burning a kindergarten (on a Sunday night, no injuries). Two or three have never been in trouble before, two others have rap sheets as long as your arm. The cops saved up a list of things that these kids have done over two years and they're all being thrown at them now. Twenty plus counts for one kid. And then this woman's story got picked up by Ritzau and is now being printed in all the news-sources as if it's fact. All five are lumped together as being part of the crime wave that engulfs the ghetto. Of course, hers is a much more exciting story that his and fits in better with the zeitgeist.

So a couple of G&T's later and we were feeling lots better. We also had half a crack-brained plan to divest from civilization, although I think I lost my husband somewhere around the time I told him I could learn to make soap from bear fat.

We also discovered, while drinking away our worries, that we were dressed the same again. Jeans and maroon sweaters. And we interviewed a possible roommate this way! (Pre-G&T, never fear.) How embarrassing. We dress similarly ALL THE FREAKIN' TIME. And never on purpose. He went to work long before I rolled out of bed. I had no idea what he was wearing. It's just too bad neither of us noticed until we were tossed.

We're doing more interviews tonight. This time I am DEFINITELY checking to see what he's wearing.

And the bank fuckery moves to America

WARNING: THIS POST IS RATED R FOR LANGUAGE.

And general assfuckery.

Just in case you wondered if Danish banks had a monopoly in assholeness, think again. My credit just got cancelled because they can tell by looking at my bank records that I don't have a steady income, therefore I must be unemployed, therefore I shouldn't have.... wait for it.... $3,000 in debt. Yes folks, I am the reason for the recession. My wild borrowing habits have ruined, simply ruined the economy.

By the way, if you calculate in the debt I have from over 10 years of higher education you get a whopping.... $7000.

Yes that includes the three grand mentioned above. Boy, if only I'd pay that back, the stock market would rise and babies would smile, China would start following human rights directives and Hamas, Fatah, and Israel would sit down and start singing Kum-bay-yah.

I called the bank because I couldn't use my credit card so I wanted to transfer that money to my checking, because I can make withdrawals no problem. Turns out it's not a problem with my card, it's a problem with ME.

That's when they grilled me about my income. And my husband's. And what did I want to use my money for and when was I going to be able to pay it back and why can't I tell her right now how much money my "family" makes in a year and I keep telling her I DON'T LIVE IN THE US - THE MONEY I MAKE IS IN KRONER, THE MONEY MY HUSBAND MAKES IS IN KRONER AND IT STAYS IN DENMARK!! Of course I don't have a steady income in the US. I'M NOT FUCKING THERE!! Have I missed a payment? Nope. Have I got money to cover the next two payments? Yup. Does it look like I'm living off my credit card? Are there lots of payments to grocery stores and gas stations? NO BECAUSE I DON'T FUCKING USE IT UNLESS I NEED TO. Last purchase on credit card? Computer. In OCTOBER! Yeah, I'm totally fucking living off my fucking credit card you stupid fucking bitch.

She told me that I could get my credit back when I got a job.

Did I tell her off? No. What was the point? Telling her she's a horrible person and I hope she gets cervical cancer and dies may make me feel better, but only until I realize that it probably won't happen just because I wish it to.

Did I cry? Not on the phone. Again, no point. She was a bitch and tears weren't going to sway her. Only make me look like a sad little girl who obviously doesn't deserve a "grown up" account.

I got off the phone and THEN had my temper-tantrum.

And I'm going to do what I feel is appropriate. Change fuckin' banks. No money other than what I owe will be going into Bank of America. When my credit card is paid off, I'm closing it out. I will not make any more purchases on that card. I will pay it off as fast as I can to minimize the interest they can charge me. I will not put any more money in the bank. I will not recommend Bank of America to my friends. I will never use Bank of America again. And when I close out my account I will tell them why they lost me as a client.

Anybody know any good banks?

My husband's approaching birthday

I can't buy him anything. Although I am going to use the free tickets I get for bartending at a music event next week to take him out on a "date," it's not really something I had planned as a birthday present. Anyway, we be po' and have to use our extra cash to buy a present for the newest niece. Christenings are crazy around here, at least in my husband's father's family. The wish list is all kinds of über expensive, designed to developmentally enhance your child, anti-allergenic, organic, free-trade items that she'll outgrow in four months.

You know what is also free-trade, organic, anti-allergenic, guaren-freakin-teed to developmentally enhance your child for free?

A stick!

(To play with, you horrible people! One of my favorite toys growing up was a stick that I found in the back yard. Best damn toy evah!)

And it's biodegradable too!

But then, it's not really about how good for the environment or the economy of third world countries that an item is. It's the expense. Because the most environmentally friendly option is to use her cousin's hand-me-downs. But that is SO not going to happen here. This is all about keeping up appearances.

I mean, who the hell buys their infant Georg Jensen child silverware?? They don't eat solid food!! And when they do, they eat with their hands!! And when they finally master fine motor skills, you either have to train them up to full sized silverware, meaning you've only used their little child silverware for, like, three months, or you have to take the damn silverware everywhere. God forbid you lose one of the set, they're freakin' expensive!

Actually, I don't think they are ever taken out of the box, but shown around to guests and family, "see we love our child so much we only asked for the finest in designer silverware, we're keeping it as a memento of her childhood, so when she wonders if we loved her, because we left her out in the backyard in the snow in her barnevogen and told her to go play with her expensive toys rather than interact with her, she can just look at this and know that we did."

Sorry for being bitter, I'm just irked that I'm being asked to buy crazy expensive stuff for a person who will only be able to use if for a short time and who doesn't care who made it or if it's even new. I have to buy expensive crap for a person who poops her pants!! WHY???

Anyway, because of this, there is no way I'm going to be able to buy something for my husband or go out to dinner. So instead, I offered to cook him something special. Anything he wanted. Four recipe books to chose from. What did he chose? The same damn thing he choses ever year. Chicken with tarragon cream sauce. It's the one meal I think I can make in my sleep. He likes to have it with lots of extra sauce and then we spoon it over rice. But it's my go-to meat dish. We eat it quite frequently.

Anything else? I ask. Nope. Nada. He relented and said that if I was going to be insistent about having vegetables I can't use any that are non-organic or from outside of Denmark, because he doesn't want them. That's fine. That leaves me carrots and potatoes. I can do stuff with carrots and potatoes. (God I miss salad.) I've also noticed that almost all of the organic veg is now being trucked up from Spain. (I hate this time of year.) All the fruit and veg are a bit questionable, environmentally speaking. (That's alright, another damn niece or nephew turns up I won't be able to afford organic again.) So my grand plan is: cold potato salad with prociuttio as a starter, chicken with tarragon cream sauce, rice, and baked carrots for the main course, chocolate tart for dessert. I have four freakin' cookbooks! I'm not just making the one dish I can do from my head!!

I can make the chocolate tart tonight, I think, or tomorrow right after class. I'll then make the salad, but not assemble it until just before we eat. The carrots will take an hour, plus some time for prep, so I'll prep them first and then I'll prep the chicken tarragon. I'll start the carrots cooking half an hour before I begin cooking the chicken. Put salad together on plates and back in the fridge. I start the rice at the same time I start cooking the chicken. Half an hour and finito. Every item can hang out on the hot stove while we eat the salad.

Yeah, I think I can do that. And have it all on the table at 7:30? Oh yeah. I think I can do that indeed.

Seriously?

I didn't really want to complain AGAIN about life in Denmark - but I'm going through the integration process (read: assimilation process) and it is not pretty.

I'd really like to compare how things are here with how things work in the states, but as a citizen I don't have to go through US immigration. I know of someone who did... I'll email his wife later and ask.

Anyway, Danish Integration services were invented/put together/hatched like devil spawn in order to give Danes the illusion that dirty foreigners would quickly and efficiently be absorbed into the great white north that is Denmark and also to give jobs to a lot of Danes with liberal arts educations.

There is nothing you can say to convince me otherwise. I have Danish friends who agree with me.

"Integration services" has to be the most un-service oriented of all the so-called services in Denmark. Forget what you think "service" means. Think of it like having your car serviced. After dealing with Integration, my body feels drained, sandblasted, rotated and pumped full of air.

It's not just that the letter is in Danish. I mean, I'm a new immigrant for crying out loud, how on earth am I supposed to read this? (Okay, so because I've been here so damn long I can read a lot more Danish then you'd think, but it's the PRINCIPLE!) I then get a letter from JobCenter, which I *thought* had something to do with jobs. No, I think it has something to do with the biblical Job. As in, you need the patience of Job to go through integration. In the letter, again in Danish, it tells me I have to meet with a person for an hour and a half, but not to worry, as this meeting can be conducted in English.

What do they do when newly arrived immigrants don't speak or read any Danish - like asylum seekers? I'd like to think that there is a different, kinder, system for them and I'm just stuck in the "you married a Dane, you idiot" group. I know they have it worse, however. I've seen the camps.

Sometimes I wonder if I'm being punished for taking a pure Dane out of the inbred gene-pool. How are they going to maintain Danish purity if Danish men and women keep marrying dirty foreigners??

Anyway, I went to the JobCenter as instructed only to find out that my meeting had been cancelled. The overly cheery woman (you know you've been in Denmark to long when you instinctively distrust happy smiling Danes) said they tried "every means" to contact me. As my husband dryly pointed out, well, we do live right around the corner, they could have walked over and knocked on the door, so not EVERY means. I never did get the letter they SWORE they sent. Asshats.

This perky bouncy woman proceeded to tell us that well, it wasn't really necessary to meet with anyone because really the most important thing to do is sign up for Danish classes. Okay. Yes. Fine. But I am trying to get a job and I want to be able to work my class schedule around my job and this IS the JobCenter....

Oh, don't worry about that! She says. You'll get a job in no time and you can tell the language school about it when you go in for an interview.

Um. Okay. Yes. Fine. About that job?

Oh, they don't do that here, there's only one guy who does that and he's really busy and it's no problem to get a job in Denmark and at this point I see her lips moving and all I'm hearing is blah blah blah Danish blah blah blah Danish blah blah blah bunnies blah blah blah cupcakes blah blah blah rainbows emanating from my ass blah blah blah.

Of course she's not worried! She has a job! And she *knows* that no one is poor in Denmark! Everyone says so! Certainly no one is constantly facing foreclosure on their home because in Denmark, these things don't happen! Everyone can get a job, even a person with no skills and no Danish because in Denmark, people fart happiness!

Though I was one floor above the language school, she decided to sign me up for Danish class. So helpful. Thanks. I tried to tell her that I've done this before, but she just sort of kept talking and talking and talking. I don't think she trusted me to go and do it myself. I am after all a dirty foreigner come here for the free health care and welfare that I'm not qualified to get because I'm still breathing.

So today I got my letter from the language school. IN DANISH! Seriously? Are you kidding me?

I'm reminded of a billboard I saw once: "Want to Learn to Read? Call 1-800 (something something)"

Dude, if I can read the sign, I obviously don't need your help and if I need to learn Danish, how on GOD'S GREEN EARTH am I supposed to be able to read the letter???

The up side is that my husband, the Dane, is more pissed off about this than I am, so I'm feeling loved and supported by a six foot tall enraged Viking. The down side is that he's really gunning for me to get a job back in the states so he can emigrate.

One immigration at a time!

Brrrrrrrr!

It's two degrees above freezing and I sit here in the house with half the windows open!

Whut? Have I gone mad? It's two degrees above freezing!!

Well, when the new windows were installed there were some problems. This is what happens when you live in a historical building and the historic preservation society takes an interest. The windows had to look a certain way and be made of wood and could not be double paned and had to be painted in linseed oil paint. There are only so many companies that do this and so we used the company that had done other windows for this building in the past. This was a logical step, yes/no?

Except that the company had changed hands and the new owners were not really all that interested in historical accuracy and pushed the craftsmen who made our windows to work faster than one should. So the linseed oil paint was applied too thickly with the wrong type of brushes and then the windows were installed before all this thick gooey paint could cure.

So we ended up with gloppy windows that turned YELLOW!

Thankfully when the historic preservation society stopped by to check on us, they were also appalled and demanded that the company do something. Including changing the hardware on the windows because brushed stainless steel is INCORRECT. It must needs be white hardware. Seriously, the people are a little nuts about historical accuracy. Historical accuracy is all nice and good until it means you end up spending 24 freezing your butt off because your windows are open and you also spend more on heat because your windows are not 21st century eco-friendly. I wonder if we ought to be using lead-based paint on the walls, after all, that is what would have been used back in the day...

Anyway, the painters arrived this morning at 7:30. Yes, you read that right. SEVEN FREAKIN' THIRTY IN THE BLOODY MORNING!! They had said 8:30, but apparently were just too excited to go to work that they didn't want to stop and get coffee or something. Not that you can get coffee because even the coffee shops are closed that early in the morning. That's not true. A lot of Denmark is up and functioning out on the street at 7:30 am. But still, no one likes to be woken up by the arrival of painters who are ahead of schedule.

So in they came, I toddled off to a different bedroom to go back to sleep (on a folding mattress, I am NOT amused today) and they proceeded to make a racket, a mess, and a freezer of my home. See, the windows cannot be closed for 24 hours. That means my office, living room, dining room, kitchen, hallway to the bathroom, and bedroom are all open to the elements. Which are cold. For the next 24 hours.

I have set up a temporary office in the smallest bedroom that faces the courtyard and was not affected by the window replacement. It was my other bedroom this morning and later today it will serve as a dining room. I sort of feel like a receptionist in an office. I'm sitting here at a bare table with nothing but my computer, a desk lamp, and a glass of water. Nothing on the walls, no piles of research (yet). And I have a chair on the other side of the table... really it looks as if I'm waiting for a client or something.

In addition to the absurd conditions I'm working under, I'm wearing a full set of long underwear with woolen outerwear. If I was wearing waterproof pants and a jacket, I could go skiing in this get up. Well, if there were snow. At least there is no snow. Yet. But the clothes keep me warm enough for when I have to zip down to the bathroom or spend an extended amount of time in the kitchen.

Tonight will be a joy. We'll probably be camping out in this room. One person on this folding mattress and someone on the couch cushions. Thank god for flannel pajamas! Oh, and also Gammel Dansk and Aquavite - two crazy liquors that you can drink during the day in Denmark when it's cold. Gammel Dansk with breakfast and Aquavite (schnapps) with lunch!

A good day.

Maybe I'm nuts.

Yesterday was a beautiful day.  Cold, yes, but the sun was shining and everything glistened from the frost and with all the Christmas decorations up, it was a truly beautiful day.  A day that normal people find impossible not to be out in.  Unless you are me.

I find beautiful days the best for working.

I had the most productive writing day in a long time.  I did go out, I had to deposit a check.  I enjoyed being out.  It was lovely.  But I itched to get back to the keyboard, because I'd had a break through.  I've been stuck on the last section of this chapter and after days of rewriting, it still sucked in the way few things have sucked before.  And suddenly, with the appearance of the sun, all became clear.

And it's not like I'm working in the sun or getting any benefit from the good weather.  My desk is in a little corner of the room, far from the window.  Half the time I miss the weather completely because I can't see it from my desk.  Why is it that on gorgeous days I suddenly find myself in my cubby hole madly writing while other people are suddenly drawn to the outdoors?  It's really traumatic when the Danish Boy has a day off on nice weather days because then he drags me off somewhere and I get nothing done.

It's the cold rainy grey days that are perfect for me to take a day off.  Not that I like going out in the rain, but I find it almost impossible to work.  Today, for instance, is a very cold grey day.  It's so bloody cold that it looks like it snowed, the frost is really really thick and it's covering everything.  Including the underside of things, which snow doesn't normally do.

Kinda stupid for a person who works best in sunny conditions to perpetually live in cold and dark locations, isn't it?

A bad day.

Actually, it could have been a really bad day.  Yesterday was just a moderately annoying day.  The kind where you find yourself rather miffed that the whole thing happened and you'd like to do it over but not a go cry yourself to sleep kind of bad day.

It ended in one band-aid, one bruised tendon, a lightly scraped thumb, a lightly scraped heel, some stubbed toes, a couple of lumps on the head, sore body, and exhausted archaeogoddess.

What did I do that caused such injury?  I did the chores.

I fell over the vacuum cleaner several times and once it bit me on the heel, right after it pulled itself out of the wall instead of the cord unwinding from the machine as it normally does.  And this is the machine that likes me.  The old one used to fall to pieces when I approached.  I kept hitting my head on the sloped ceilings as I tried to get into the corners to vacuum and mop.  I cut myself and bruised myself on the washing machine, whose filter was clogged and so would not run properly.  Since I couldn't get the filter to unscrew (resulting in a bruised tendon), I had to manually drain the washing machine every time it was supposed to drain.  Through a little hose at the bottom of the machine.  I sat on the floor in the bathroom for an hour walking that stupid machine through a 20 minute wash.  I moved furniture that had been left all over the place during the roommate shuffle and over exerted myself.

On a normal day I can perform these chores without injury to myself.  I have done all of these tasks without bruising or scraping myself.  I have happily dragged the vacuum to the farther reaches of the room with the cord unrolling itself behind me without having it unplug itself and shoot itself into the back of my leg.

Yesterday was, therefore, not my kind of day.

On a normal day when things go wrong I will just give up and put myself in bed or in front of the TV and wait for the jinx to pass.  But you cannot let the shower curtain and the bath mat stay in the wash until your big strong husband comes home.  Especially if you know the other roommates take showers at night and like to do their laundry when they get home.  You also cannot just stomp off and leave the vacuum in the middle of the floor.

Once there are no more roommates, however, I will do precisely that.

Not what I'm supposed to be doing.

I really ought to be working some more on my dissertation. In fact, every waking moment when I am not cooking or cleaning I am supposed to be working on my dissertation. But today is just not shaping up to be one of those good working days. It could be because I am exhausted. Half of Aarhus was up and about last night celebrating the first weekend of the month (ie, the first weekend after you get paid) and the beginning of the Christmas party season. The part of Denmark that was not already festooned with Christmas decorations in October is now truly tricked out - Advent is upon us and so if you aren't in a Christmas spirit now you will probably go to hell.

Anyway, this first weekend of the month plus the joy d'season means drunks on the streets. Singing. Two roommates were up until 4 am chillin' and drinkin' beer and watching a DVD of the Depeche Mode concert last year. The other remaining roommate came home soon after 4 and was very noisily sick. Several times. The husband got up at 4 to get ready for work (taxi driving).

Four am in the apartment was a very busy time. I was the only one where normal decent people are at that hour, in bed. But not sleeping. Chewing on my duvet would be a better description of my activities at that hour. I had already listened to the concert several times and the parade of drunks for several hours. Normally I would be wearing ear plugs, like my dear husband does on Saturday nights, but I have this stupid infection behind my ear so it hurts to go putting pressure (a la ear plugs) on my right ear. And you can't just wear one ear plug.

At 5:30 the delivery trucks start showing up and they deliver, engines running, continuously, until 7. Then I slept. Up at 11, day half gone. I have to shop before 5 when the stores close, interrupting the day even more.

I just hope everyone is hung over enough that they don't go out tonight. I can then go to bed at a respectable hour, like midnight, sleep soundly and get up and have a nice full day tomorrow. When no stores are open, so no deliveries are made, and I cannot be easily distracted by chores or tv or anything.

Tomorrow is another day!!

Grumble grumble

One of the horrible things that happens when you move is trying to change all of your mailing addresses. Some are pretty easy to change. The bank, for instance, and your credit card company are very quick to help you change your address. Magazines, not so much, especially if you've just paid for the next year's subscription it seems.

My Archaeology magazine is still being sent to the old address. I tried to change the address on-line but the on-line program couldn't find my subscription and suggested I send an email.

Email 1. Included my membership number as well as the only other number on my mailing sheet which I presumed was my account number.

Reply 1. They needed to know when I subscribed and how.

Email 2. I replied with the information.

Reply 2. They need my subscription account number which is printed on my mailing sheet.

Email 3. Okay, that's already been given in the first email, since all the emails are included in this quickly growing email chain, it is actually still there... but fine. I give the information again. This time I also scan and send my mailing sheet with the email.

Reply 3. Please call us with your subscription details at this not 1-800 number or fax your request to us or go on-line to change your subscription.

I am SO not happy about the customer service I've received. I now have to call America in order to change my stupid address. I wouldn't bother except I just paid for another years worth of magazines and I intend on getting them.

As fun as it is to get this magazine, I am not sure I wish to keep getting it. I hate poor customer service. The emails I've been exchanging with Archaeology all have the proviso *When contacting us please include all the previous emails.* Which I have. Therefore the people receiving these emails should take the time to read them all from the beginning. The first email reply was addressed to the name I had requested be used. The second reply did not. Nor did the woman notice that I'd already given the subscription number to customer service. The third reply was just beyond the pale.

For further assistance on your request, please call at 617-353-9361 Fax #: 617-353-6550 Or
mail you request to
Archaeological Institute Of America
656 Beacon St
Boston, MA 02215
OR visit us at www.archaeological.org

This is not an AIA problem, I've already changed my address with them. They were very nice about the whole thing. I was told by them that I needed to contact the magazine in order to change my address.

And how hard is it to say, "I'm sorry we still can't find your subscription. Would it be possible for you to call us at ###?" Instead I get the automatic response shove off. With the broken structure that appears in the email, I KNOW that was a cut and pasted reply.

Grumble grumble grumble.