Want to buy me something? Go to etsy.com and search “birds.” Today I did just that and these are some gems I found: (click on the photos to see the etsy page)

Cute bird print. This would look adorable in my bedroom.

Felt birds. how cute will these be on a tiny piece of string above my bed? Adorable. Purchased!

Blue bird necklace. I haven’t been wearing much jewelry lately, but i love designs like this one.

Blue bird with cherry blossoms. I LOVE CHERRY BLOSSOMS. I LOVE THIS PILLOW.

Have you ever told a good-intentioned family member that you “like” or “collect” something in passing, and then next Christmas you are bombarded with 25 stuffed monkeys of every shape and color and size? No? Because I even got a monkey that was 2.5 feet tall. He was my new years eve date in 1998. We made out.

So I totally expect my great aunt and I to get matching bird houses and CDs to help identify different birds sounds for Christmas this year. Oh, and this sweatshirt. I’ll have a size small, please.

Tailgating

I grew up in a town close enough to a major state University (with a major football team) that throughout my life I was surrounded by maroon and orange and shouts of “Let’s go . . . Hokies!” every Saturday of the fall. I wasn’t athletic, didn’t follow or play any sports, and generally had no concept of what first and ten, delay of game, or hail mary meant. And I didn’t care. I was more interested in what part I would get in the winter play, my next article in the school newspaper, and whether my parents had found that empty case of beer six-pack of Smirnoff Ice in my trunk. You know, important stuff.

So when choosing a college, the success of the sports program held no bearing on my decision. I picked JMU and then suddenly fell puppy-faced, disgustingly in love with my first boyfriend. He went to Virginia Tech. The home of the Hokies. We still saw each other every weekend, but that sucked and I was insecure, so I decided to transfer. First year at VT? Football, schmootball. I think it was mostly because boyfriend was so into it that I was annoyed it took attention away from me, and therefore felt bitter towards the whole circus that went on each fall semester.

And, as these things tend to do, our relationship ended. By ended, I mean, I flipped my shit and went crazy and he dumped me. I deserved it. But that story need not be told and I would rather bury my past than face it, so back to football! Suddenly I was single and football was a reason to get drunk before noon on a Saturday! Outside! And not get arrested (although there were a few close ones)! I began to really look forward to football games, and the intense excitement if brought to Blacksburg. Those Saturdays were important. I painted my face. I bought a VT jersey. I devoured turkey legs and hid airplane bottles in my coat to pour into soda at the game, like a real fan! It could be quite an event to get ready for each game – there was the tailgating that required a parking spot on campus, hot dogs and hamburgers and coolers and beers, not to mention picking out the correct Hokie outfit to wear for the weather, as Blacksburg winters can get brutal, and staying home in a blizzard-tornado-hurricane was not an option. It is such a great feeling being surrounded by 60,000 other Hokie fans, all very impatiently waiting for that next first down. Even when the temperate is below zero and you can’t feel your fingers anymore.

Fast forward 4-5 years and I’m living in Europe, were football, ahem, soccer is king. Same story: who what when soccer? Meh. But now it’s the world cup and the USA has made it to the second round and HELL YEAH! I love soccer! Damn those refs and their “off side” calls and America-hating! WHERE ARE WE WATCHING THE GAME LATER? Did you see the game? Hey! You! Good game, huh?

As I realized last night, USA (& Denmark) going forward in this tournament is directly proportional to my opportunities to have fun. And it was the same in Blacksburg. Good games = good friends and good beers. And, just like in Blacksburg, the excitement is infectious. The kind of excitement that makes you high-five a perfect stranger and chant U-S-A at an obnoxiously loud volume until you’re throat is sore and your voice is hoarse.

As it turns out, I still may not actually understand what off-sides means, but damn, I had a good time!

(also, Go USA!)

It was cold here in Denmark until about 2 weeks ago. Yes, two weeks ago. June 2010 . I was still wearing boots and scarves.  And so was Sampson.

It’s been awhile, huh? I think about you all the time. I miss our time together, but looking back, I usually went to you for comfort in stressful times. Life has been equally as stressful as before, when we were together so often, but I suppose I’ve found other ways to deal with it. But listen. It’s not you. It’s me. You’re great. Truly.

Okay fine- You’re right. You’re right! It’s a guy. A guy has been taking my attention away from you, and it’s not fair. Starting today I will pay you the attention you deserve.

now my house smells like home.

Hi hello yes it’s been a while now to the point of this post: the water here sucks.

It tastes okay – I drink my tap water and as far as I can tell, there is no harm in doing so. However, the water here is VERY CALCIUM rich. Mmmmm great for your bones, right? well, maybe, I dunno. But what I do know is it sticks to EVERYTHING IT TOUCHES.

It took me  a while to realize that a build up of calcium was what made my dishwasher stop working. And slowed my kitchen faucet down to a drip. And I’m sure it has something to do with the general crappiness of my bathroom drains.

Speaking of bathroom drains, I have been battling mine for, oh – i guess since around September 26 when I got off the plane and became an immigrant. I am very lucky to have a bathtub (oh so rare here in the EU), and I was brilliantly happy I could put stuff on my bathroom floor and not have to worry about it being soaked after every shower as in a typical Danish bathroom (here is where i was going to suggest you google ‘typical danish bathroom’ but that mostly gives you hotel bathrooms – still an okay indicator. just decrease size by 1/2 and put the shower on top of the toilet, remove shower curtain completely  also forget about any indication of a separate shower  ’stall’).

But, with my first shower here and every one since (EXCEPT TODAY WOOHOO — details to come) the bathroom floor flooded. Not like, creep onto the hardwood floors in the kitchen flooded, but enough to be a pain in the ass and keep me from throwing my dirty clothes on the bathroom floor – something that brought me great pleasure at home.

Anyway – the calcium would stick to the bathroom floor and create this really thin barely noticable whiteish film on it. But yesterday I had had it. I scrubbed the floor with a stiff brush until I was sweating and plunged the drain like it was to blame for world hunger.

And this morning?  NO FLOOD. Miraculous and magical and marvelous. I don’t expect it to last and I foresee lots of angry plunging in my future, but I didn’t have to slosh through a half inch of water this morning and it definitely made my  morning a little brighter (which isn’t hard, have you ever been to Denmark in the winter?).

Anyway – my calc problem isn’t solved. All faucets have to be regularly soaked in anti-calc stuff and my dishwasher, coffee maker, water-boiler thing that i’ve never seen anywhere but Denmark, and all other water-holding-and-using appliances will have to continue to be treated. Weekly, probably. Maybe more often.

These are the things that NO ONE tells you when you move to a foreign country. Any other Copenhageners have annoying issues like this? Little details that become big pains because it is something you’d never deal with at home?

Any good tips for battling this stuff??

And end rant. Ah, that felt good.

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