Sweden

I’m one step closer to booking my trip to Stockholm.

I just bought myself a big, puffy, faux fur trim, hooded jacket.

Because basically I’m OBSESSED with the weather.

I live in a temperate climate and so I rarely get to experience the phenomenon known as WEATHER.

Nope.

I basically exist between 50 and 105 degrees Fahrenheit every year.

In Stockholm in December, normal temperatures are around freezing and occasionally warm up to 35 degrees.

That’s COLD!

I don’t even KNOW about the sun, but I suspect being that far north in the hemisphere means that there will be MUCH LESS DAYLIGHT than what I’m used to.

Once, I took a trip to Pennsylvania in the winter time.

Besides shoveling snow EVERY DAMN DAY I WAS THERE, I got to experience what I like to call FUCKING COLD ASS WEATHER.

It was 10 degrees outside.

I’ve never experienced cold like that.

With the wind chill factored in, the temperature was below zero.

BELOW FUCKING ZERO!

The wind WHIPPED through my jeans like needles of ice pricking me and I remembered those ridiculous looking long puffy jackets people on the east coast wore and realized that THIS IS WHY THEY WEAR THOSE SILLY THINGS.

BECAUSE IT’S FUCKING COLD!

Well, I’m not positive, but I think Sweden is COLDER THAN PENNSYLVANIA!

Nevertheless, I have heard it’s beautiful.

And technically, I’m probably Swedish myself (23andMe says I’m mostly Northwestern European).

So I SHOULD go.

But will I?

Mind Blown!

I am considering a trip to Stockholm over the holiday break.

To visit The Swede, no doubt.

But also to see the Vasa and ABBA museums.

Go shopping in Old Town.

Visit the historic Kunglinga Gardens.

And of course, take in a hockey game.

Or five.

I really want to see The Swede in his own country.

As much as I like squiring him about town in California, you don’t REALLY get to know a person until you see how they live and what they enjoy.

One thing I will avoid?

Surströmming.

Fermented herring.

Because nothing says vomit like cold, fermented, smelly fish.

Yes, when I went to Scotland I ate haggis.

It actually wasn’t THAT bad.

But I have a THING for fishy foods.

I simply can’t eat them.

So no surströmming for me.

Lots of The Swede, though.

Consider that I have put my birth control in, then you know I’m serious about visiting.

Plenty of baby making fun with NONE OF THE BABIES.

Now, that’s what I call a vacation!

Of course, there’s one other thing to deal with:

THE WEATHER.

Today for instance, it is 66 degrees Fahrenheit where I am but only 42 degrees Fahrenheit in Stockholm.

That’s COLD, my friends.

And this California girl barely has an umbrella or a jacket, let alone snow-appropriate clothes.

Seriously, WHAT WOULD I WEAR?

I have no warm jackets.

I have no snow boots.

I am sure there are clothes I need to have that I’m not even aware of.

Longjohns?

Special socks?

Puffer jackets?

Seriously, the considerations are MIND-BLOWING!

Swedish Fish

In my usual (neurotic) form, I went shopping on Amazon for The Swede.

Basically, I had nothing better to do but pretend I have a (Swedish) boyfriend to shop for.

Idle hands are the devil’s workshop, no?

Well, I basically don’t know very much about him.

I know he’s Swedish. I know he likes hockey. I know he likes fast cars. I know he likes spicy things.

I flashed back to the time when I STUPIDLY asked him if Swedish Fish really came from Sweden.

He stared at me blankly, answering my question without saying a word.

I found a really cool glass “California” ornament, to remind him of his time in California (and a certain smoldering blond he should like).

I found a vintage heathered blue tee shirt with the Swedish flag on it (but he probably has bunches of these).

I also found the HILARIOUS “Have No Fear The Swede Is Here” tee shirt, which I personally love and can just picture him wearing it when he arrives in California.

swedeThen I looked for hockey stuff, and I came across a Swedish Hockey ornament.

That went in the shopping cart.

But while I was shopping for Swedish hockey stuff, I came across the PERFECT tee for The Swede’s hockey-loving, goalie-playing daughter.

Then I woke up.

I do not have a Swedish boyfriend. His daughter doesn’t even know I exist.

It was fun to look but in the end, I emptied my cart. . .

. . .and bought the Swedish Fish.

Those things are GOOD!

Breathe in. Breathe out.

In case you didn’t know it, The Swede is 9 hours ahead of me, time wise.

So there’s only a little window of opportunity to communicate unless we want to stay up super late.

Early morning. Late evening.

That’s what works.

So I’m messaging The Swede when I realize that it’s almost 2 am in Sweden.

I do what I always do.

I say good night in Swedish.

God Natt.

He likes it when I speak (my limited) Swedish to him.

Jag kan prata lite Svenska. (I can speak a little Swedish)

En billeter tack. (One ticket, please)

Var ligger badrummen? (Where is the bathroom?)

I’m so exotic.

So I get ready to sign off when I decided to send a GIF of a kiss.

And I pick out a naughty, horizontal thrusting, open-mouthed kiss and send it to him.

As soon as I hit send I think, “Oh! I’m not supposed to do this!” but it’s too late.

It’s been sent.

And now The Swede knows that I want to French kiss him while he lays on top of me, thrusting.

Oh well.

It’s not like I’m not trying.

But flirting is like breathing – even if you want to stop something keeps you going.

Ultimately, I decided that since I like The Swede it’s okay to flirt with him.

Just no more NEW men.

And no making sex jokes at my expense.

It’s all progress!

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I’m fucking learning Swedish

I’m fucking learning Swedish (Svenska) and there’s a lot I have to say about it.

First of all, I love that the Swedish word for ‘two’ sounds like the American version of ‘two’ said with a lisp.

Imagine the priest from Princess Bride:

“Twoo wuv is what bwings us twogether twoday.”

Overall, the experience of learning Swedish is a little like shaving my head with a cheese grater while chewing on tinfoil.

It’s a little bit uncomfortable.

I am learning everything phonetically. Which means I speak a few words but I can’t write them.

An example: the Swedish word for ‘delicious’ is ‘oot sect.”

That’s what it sounds like.

How is it spelled?

I have no clue.

I looked it up for the purposes of putting it on this post.

It’s ‘utsökt.’

Now, as impressed as I am with myself for learning a handful of Swedish words, it’s not all that great when it comes to texting and I’m spelling everything phonetically to The Swede.

So I try to keep my Swedish simple when I text him.

God morgon (good morning).

God natt (good night).

Tack så mycket (thank you very much).

I’m impressed that I’ve learning any words given my memory problems and my lack of understanding of Germanic languages.

I hope it gets easier as I go.

One thing is for sure – I can’t just learn to SAY Swedish. I’ve got to learn to WRITE it as well.

Just in case I ever visit Sverige (aka Sweden).

Pronounced ‘Svallia.’

But hold cow, can you believe it. . . I’m learning Svenska!

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Long Distance Lust

“I want to pack you in my suitcase and take you home to Sweden,” The Swede told me.

We were walking to the bathroom at unSCruz.

He’d had some whiskey and his lips were loose.

It was utterly charming.

“I can’t ask you to wait, can I?” he asked.

“No,” I said.

My heart lurched a little bit.

This big, cuddly, soft-spoken, shy man has cleverly wormed his way into my heart.

“It’s been such a fun weekend,” I told him.

Part of me really wanted to say, “Let’s do this!”

But I know I’m no good at long distance relationships.

Not at all.

I’m not really good at relationships, fullstop.

At least not in recent times, at least.

What makes me think that I could make it work when we live 8,600+ miles apart (as the crow flies)?

Stupidity?

Romanticism?

Affection?

Full blown LUST?

Whatever the cause – stupidity or lust, the end result is the same.

Me, single.

What else could I be?

The Swede

The Swede has been texting me and it’s been more fun than a tornado in a trailer park.

He went out drinking with a friend and I got fantastic text messages from him as he drank beer.

He asked me if I was interested in visiting Sweden.

Technically, 60% of my DNA is from Scandinavia, and it would love to visit the homeland.

There’s the Vasa Museum, all the canals to navigate, and the ABBA Museum.

You know I can’t miss the ABBA Museum!

Sadly, I have no plans to visit Sweden in the near future, but it’s definitely on my list of places to go.

And it’s just a hop, skip, and a jump to Finland where I can sleep in a glass igloo under the aurora borealis.

Sigh.

It’s hard to not imagine snuggling under the glass dome with The Swede.

And, of course, there’s the saunas in Finland.

Nothing like a nice hot naked sweat followed by a giant leap into the freezing outdoors.

Hey, it’s GOOD for you!

Perhaps I will talk my sister into a trip to Sweden next year.

Our last big trip was Scotland in 2008.

I have to admit, it would be nice to see The Swede in his territory.

Nice to see The Swede fullstop.

A Good Night’s Sleep

I’m OBSESSED with UnSCruz!

Can’t wait for it to get here.

As it turns out, I am so impressed by UnSCruz, I’m inviting all my friends to come.

Toni, Kimberly, Tejas, Yvonne. . .

I have a BIG tent.

It says it’ll accommodate 8 people.

Not that I’d want to pack 8 people in my tent.

There’s a little matter of stuffing my queen size air mattress bed in it.

Hey, I like comfort!

It’s not EXACTLY glamping, but it’s close.

The tough part is, I think I’m going to have to share my bed.

I know, I know!

But WHO should I share it with?

My girlfriend?

My friend from Sweden?

Or my best friend?

If I had my way, it’d be my friend from Sweden.

Basically because I wouldn’t mind snuggling up to him.

But perhaps he doesn’t want to.

And that’s okay.

I’m fine sleeping by myself.

It’s been so long since I shared a bed with someone I’m afraid I really won’t get a good night’s sleep.

But that’s the whole point, isn’t it?!?!

🙂

 

Me and the Swede

michelleOooooohhhhh.

I talked to the Swede again.

And by talk, I mean text.

And by Swede, I mean genuinely, authentically from Sweden.

He’s tall and handsome and kisses like his life depends on it.

It’s sooooooo good.

We went on a first date a few months ago when he was visiting the Bay Area for work.

We said goodnight without kissing goodbye.

We went on a second date a little later and again said goodbye without kissing goodnight.

Then something came over us on the third date.

Perhaps he figured “why not at least TRY kissing her?”

I know I thought I’d been friend zoned.

Then he kissed me and WOW!

Perfection!

So he’s coming back to the Bay Area in May.

And if he can swing it, he might be here for UnSCruz which I’ve described as a moveable party with fire spinning, music, dance, art, performance, and community.

There’s even a wedding this time around!

I think he was intrigued.

So cross your fingers that he can arrange his travel and make it to UnSCruz.

It’ll be a hell of a time, I’ll tell you that!

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Seriously delicious lips

IMG_9624The Swede is back!

He is visiting from Sweden again, on a business trip.

We went out last night and I was reminded of why I like him so much – he kisses PHENOMENALLY well!

OMG, I could get lost in his kisses (and I did).

He tells me he “likes to kiss me too.”

I also like his big, broad shoulders and muscular build.

He reminds me of The Mountain from Game of Thrones.

When I told him this he admitted to me that he used to be a body builder but gave it up to raise a family.

He once lifted a Volvo but wasn’t able to move it like body builder Magnus Samuelsson was doing at the same competition.

But he lifted a Volvo.

OMG!

In any case, he wants me to come and visit him today. To kiss some more, no doubt.

But you know how kissing leads to forking and I’m not sure I want that.

So I’m probably going to stay away from his hotel room and lure him to a restaurant to make out.

Yum. Yum. Yum.

The man has seriously delicious lips!