My first joke in Swedish

All I wanted for Christmas was a boyfriend.

Santa did not deliver.

Barring that, I did have a backup list of Christmas presents:

A Masterclass pass and Rosetta Stone unlimited.

What could be better than learning from the experts on topics ranging from international cuisine to negotiation, to photography and style.

And of course you all know how much I’m enjoying learning Swedish.

Imagine getting access to ALL Rosetta Stone language languages?

Wowza!

Well the good news is that I was gifted some money with which I can apply toward the cost of Masterclass and Rosetta Stone.

In celebration of my soon-to-be trilingual status, I made my very first joke in Swedish:

I was on a walk with a Swedish friend and I asked him how many times he’s attended “SEXSABILITY” the sex-positive festival which takes place in Sweden.

“Six,” he replied.

“Sex,” I joked. [sex is ‘six’ in Swedish]

Ha ha ha ha!

I never said it was a good joke!

Serendipity

Every now and then I wonder about my strange and unusual background.

HAI workshops.

Landmark.

OneTaste.

Burning Man.

Lots of fringe activities, exploring self and relationships with others.

I don’t often talk about it on this blog because it’s hard to put into words what it feels like to probe the edges of myself and explore the depths of my identity.

But that’s the task I was faced with yesterday after conversing with an old friend, who just so happens to be Swedish.

I am forced to admit that all these things I’ve done suddenly made more sense to me.

Even learning the Swedish language to impress a man who is now married to someone else.

Instead of feeling like a collection of failed hobbies, I feel like a whole and complete woman.

Strong.

Independent.

Ready to take on the challenges before me and see what lies ahead.

Bring it on.

Puppies

Let’s just go ahead and acknowledge my love of all things Swedish.

Since before my trip to Stockholm in 2018, I have loved Sweden.

After all, what’s not to love about a country who gave us ABBA, the cheese slicer, and The Swede?

And speaking of The Swede, he’s adopting another puppy come December.

A female.

Which means he will be able to breed his dogs to get puppies.

And I think he intends to do just that.

So besides having a new car, a new motorcycle, a new fiancée, a new home, a new hot tub, a new dog, and a new puppy, he will now be breeding more PUPPIES!

The thought of puppy breath and soft velvet noses makes my peri-menopausal ovaries shudder a little with pleasure.

Me thinks it may be time to adopt a four-legged friend for myself.

Tongue tied and twisted

I’ve been practicing Swedish for a week now and I’m getting a little better every day.

I still can’t get used to the cadence however.

There’s a lilt to Swedish that I just can’t capture.

And, of course, there are SO MANY WORDS that are spelled one way but pronounced another.

I can’t help but feel like I’m practicing tongue twisters.

There are words that start with “skj”, for instance and the closest I can come to making the appropriate sound is to half-whistle-half-sneeze my way through the word.

The number 7, for being a teeny tiny little three letter word (sju) gives me such problems.

It’s phonetically pronounced ‘wqu’ I THINK.

Before I speak any Swedish, first I translate from Swedish into English and the words I don’t know I speak in French, because I remember quite a bit of my French lessons.

So I’m speaking Swench.

Or Fredish.

Someday I’d like to return to Sweden – perhaps even pop into Norway to see where my ancestors used to live.

I bought a book on Scandinavian cooking and you can be sure that when it arrives, I’ll be scoping out some healthy fish recipes for my diet.

I feel a lot like Eliza Doolittle in My Fair Lady.

Only there’s no handsome Rex Harrison to frustrate me and throw marbles in my mouth.

Well, to that I say not every great story involves a romance and I’m quite happy learning my Swedish for me.

Tongue tied and twisted as it may be.

 

 

Kan du prata Svenska?

I broke down and bought Rosetta Stone.

Why, do you ask?

Well now seems like the perfect time to learn a language and I’ve heard that Rosetta Stone is the best.

I have three months to learn as much Swedish as I possibly can from my lessons.

Why Swedish?

The Swede is long gone and happily married.

Well it’s because I already started learning Swedish so I figure I might as well continue.

My Norwegian Great Grandma Inge might be rolling in her grave at the thought of a great grand daughter who can speak no Norwegian but is fluent in Swedish.

But I get ahead of myself.

There’s only two other languages that I’m interested in learning right now – French and Spanish.

French, because I studied it for 13 years and still have trouble speaking it.

Spanish because WHO CAN’T USE SPANISH?

I’m probably an intermediate French speaker and a beginning Spanish speaker, though my dad speaks it fluently given that he was born in Chile.

My dad could have taught all his kids Spanish as we grew up but chose not to because as an immigrant, he wanted his kids to be American, not South American.

I deeply regret not asking him to speak Spanish to me when I was old enough to understand how useful being bilingual would be.

My dad speaks more than just English and Spanish.

There’s also German and Arabic.

One day, I decided I would get to the bottom of which language was my dad’s dominant language and I asked him, “What language do you dream in?”

English.

Same.

The good thing about learning a new language through Rosetta Stone is that it’s all online and you practice speaking it as they give visual clues to identify words.

It’s pretty remarkable.

I wish I had a coupon code I could share to let readers sign up to learn any of the 24 languages they offer.

But they do have a great introductory offer right now – $11.99 per month for 3 months to learn one language of your choosing.

So get on it folks – being bilingual is SEXY!

Swedish bikini

I want this:

I want it for no reason other than it reminds me of Sweden.

The blue.

The yellow.

It’s like a deconstructed Swedish flag:

And lord knows I certainly like things Swedish.

Even though I’m of Norwegian descent.

I’m not buying it though.

Nope.

Because I have a habit of buying bikinis and never wearing them.

And I’m not going to do that anymore.

Let’s face it, I already have a Swedish bikini bottom I purchased from Globalkinis:

I intended to wear it with a Swedish flag tank top out on the playa with The Swede but then he wasn’t able to come to Burning Man:

So I scrapped the outfit.

I still have it though.

Maybe I’ll titillate The Swede by wearing it under my clothes and showing it to him in private.

Boy, does that man like all things Swedish.

Swedish coffee, Swedish candy, Swedish chocolate. . .

American women, though.

Lucky for me!

So even though I have a hankering to turn up on a beach in Florida wearing a Swedish colored bikini, I have a strong feeling that I will never actually follow through and do it.

Me and bikinis.

I imagine I’m bold enough to wear them but then I chicken out.

That’s just how I roll.

And as a parting gift from me to you, a picture of the Swedish Bikini Team:

You’re welcome!

F*cking Swedish Meatballs

Today, as I chatted with my friend Michelle, I realized that I’m doing things specifically to please The Swede.

I bought him a Man Crate for Christmas.

He has to open it with a crowbar.

I picked out a cool shirt for his daughter.

I’m joining a lodge for the Daughters of Norway.

I’m even learning Swedish.

Slowly.

Eventually I’ll be able to say, “Jag kan prata lite Svenska” and actually mean it.

The truth is I like to do things, and learning about my Nordic heritage is just one more worthy activity to occupy my time and keep me engaged.

My only reservation about it is that it is lacking in ethnic diversity.

Oh, sure there are all different age groups represented, though it does tend to skew toward older women but I’ve learned that there are acres of wisdom in older generations.

And how else will I learn how to cook those awesome little Swedish meatballs without someone showing me?!

I got a recipe for FRUIT SOUP during my first lodge meeting.

And it is NOTHING like sangria, which is MY version of fruit soup.

These are the things I need to know.

Yes, so I can impress a man.

He should already be impressed but just in case he isn’t I am pulling out all the stops.

I might not be able to speak the language as well as The Swede speaks English, but at some point I will be able to cook him a Swedish meatball.

I’m obsessed with fucking Swedish meatballs.

😉

 

 

 

Life is Swede

Yes, I’m still on my Swedish kick.

I broke down and clicked on a few links and. . .

  1. I now have a bottle of glögg arriving at my home in a week or two
  2. I signed up for a Beginning Swedish language class starting in January
  3. I figured out where to buy small batch Icelandic vodka
  4. I’m going to stop by Lunardi’s in Los Gatos to pick up akvavit (aqua vit)
  5. I signed up for a few Swedish activities mailing lists and liked a few Swedish FB pages

I’m convinced, if The Swede doesn’t snap me up like the trophy prize I am, that Alexander Skarsgård is destined to fall in love with me and propose marriage.

Ahem.

Yes, I have True Blood fantasies.

AND I can pronounce Skarsgård properly.

If that doesn’t make me perfect for some Swede, then I don’t know what is.

I also decided to buy the cutest little America loves Sweden t-shirt.

TECHNICALLY, I think it’s about Swedish Americans and we’ve established that I’m definitively Norwegian.

But watch me care less about that.

This American likes her Swedes.

Life is Swede.

A present for The Swede

Christmas is coming and I am already 110% ahead of the game.

My Christmas cards have been mailed.

My shopping is done.

Even my wrapping is complete.

I’ve annoyed even myself with my efficiency.

Personally, I am thrilled at the selection of gifts I have bought for my friends and family.

None more so than The Swede.

First, I bought him an industrial size box of Swedish Fish.

As a joke, naturally.

Then I proceeded to BREAK INTO the box and ate a bunch of fish so I had to get him something else.

And please, dear Swede, if you are reading this, stop now or your surprise will be RUINED.

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I custom made a tee shirt for The Swede.

Yes. I. Did.

Because I could find a tee shirt that said “Eat, Sleep Hockey” in English, but not in Swedish.

And I figure WHY BUY IT IN ENGLISH if he’s going to be in Sweden wearing it?

It should be in Swedish.

So I translated “Eat, Sleep Hockey” into Swedish “Äta, Sova, Hockey.”

Perfect!

Then I printed it in YELLOW lettering on a ROYAL BLUE tee shirt – the colors of Sweden.

How’s that for a present for you?

I REALLY hope he likes it!

You can’t say I didn’t make an effort. . .

P.S.  I got him a SECOND gift.  Just because I do that sometimes.  Check out this awesome mug I had custom made for him:

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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