Questionable English and Killer Drops

I spend a lot of time using the online dictionary for translation. It's convenient, current, and has good pronunciation clips. Every once in awhile I run across a translation or an example that causes me to raise an eyebrow, and I've started jotting them down for the sake of amusement. Here are a few I've collected:

• She is wearing some intriguing underwear.
• Their quarrel ended in a fight.
• He elevated his eyebrows in disbelief.
• She glared admiringly at him.
• She glanced at it for hours.
• Excuse me, but you are standing on the hem of my frock.
• Sight lies in the eyes of the beholder. 

Anyway. 

I went into the drugstore the other day to inquire about a product that comes in both drop and spray form. I selected a bottle and asked if it was 'drops'. BUT instead of saying dråber, I said dræber. Dråber means 'drops'. Dræber means 'murderer'. Need I say more? 

And so my language learning progresses.

I Am an Obsolete Child

Thirty-five short years ago

This is the first year in more years than I can even remember that I've been home on my birthday, and aside from a few minor details such as the fact that my mom now bakes with oddly named flours and strangely textured sugars, if she uses sugar at all, and the fact that the obligatory cake-holding pictures no longer have the long striped brown and tan curtains in the background, things were pretty much just as I remember, though I'm no longer the youngest one around. 

That said, I still feel remarkably juvenile for having been alive for half of seventy years, if quite forgetful, absent-minded, and generally crotchety. People are usually quite willing to forgive the aged these offenses, but being in your mid-thirties doesn't seem to garner the same sympathy as one twice your age when it comes such traits, which in my case happen to run in the family.

My dad, who for a week now has now been alive for the whole of seventy years, has been losing things, forgetting things, and grousing about things for years. As far as I know, he has been in a perpetual state of looking for his keys/phone/wallet/dark glasses, of entering a room and looking mildly surprised to find himself there, of leaving the house only to promptly return to retrieve a forgotten item (see above), or of stalking around while muttering incomprehensibly about some injustice or another since the mid-eighties. Already being dangerously skilled in this particular routine myself, one can only guess what my state will be in another thirty-five years.

A very considerate birthday gift to my dad helpfully pointed out that You're Only Old Once! and concluded with the parting thought 'you're in pretty good shape for the shape you are in.' If I can be in half as good of shape at seventy as my dad is, then I don't mind getting older. To another thirty-five years!

Hamburg, Copenhagen, Good Weather, and I Pass Another Test

Looking good at 31km

Viking Man recently tucked another marathon under his belt. We took a quick two day trip down to Hamburg at the end of April so he could run, and while we didn't have a lot of time to look around, it was still fun to leave the Monkey with the in-laws for the night and visit a new city--and country, for that matter, because we all know that airports don't count.

De Kongelige Repræsentationslokaler

Nyhavn

I also took a field trip to Copenhagen with Sprogcentret last week. Copenhagen is a nice city, so even though I had seen some of what was on the itinerary, I enjoyed the day's program, especially De Kongelige Repræsentationslokaler. We had to slog through rain for a good part of the day, but by the time we took our canal tour, the weather had cleared, and our parting photos at Nyhavn had us squinting into the setting sun. Home just past midnight, it was a long but good day.

I could complain more about the weather and temperature here, as I am wont to do, but instead I will make note of some very nice, albeit brisk, weather we had on Mother's Day. Our little street of seven houses voted to build a zip line in the forest opposite the houses, and Mother's Day was the work day for that project. VM's mother came and brought Monkey's cousin. Someone pulled a garden table and chairs into the street. There were cinnamon rolls and tea and coffee. At one point, a grill appeared. By the end of the day, the kids were zipping happily down the line. Monkey didn't hesitate for a second and surprised everyone by sailing fearlessly down the line by herself. 'Zip line' is now part of her vocabulary.

Speaking of vocabulary, I suppose my Danish is progressing. VM and I are taking our summer vacation early this year, and as a result, I will miss taking the next module test with the rest of my class. Not wanting to fall behind, I asked if I could take the test a month early, which I did just this past Wednesday.

There were four reading comprehension elements and two writing tasks. The reading comprehension was pretty straightforward. I either understood or I didn't. The writing felt more ambiguous. Did I write to a high enough standard? Was I too ambitious? Did I even make any sense whatsoever? Anyway, I passed, so now I have to look forward to the Module 4 test which comprises reading, writing, listening, and oral components. Three down, three to go.

We leave for the US on Tuesday. It's been two years, and I am really looking forward to seeing family, driving our Corvair, celebrating birthdays, camping, and hopefully some warm weather!

Blog Spring Cleaning: Dansk Progress, Monkey is Two, Fashion Fails, Irondad Prevails

TV/Midt-Vest visit

In January, my classmates and I passed the test to move to Module 3. Now in addition to our regular classes, we have a group project element in which we make presentations on a central theme. This is a combined effort with Module 4, and we have just begun our second project--Media in Holstebro. My team chose TV, so I arranged for us to visit TV/Midt-Vest, the regional TV station, last week. We were all pleasantly surprised by how enjoyable and interesting it was. We got a personal tour by the redaktionschef through the news rooms and studios, and she graciously sat with us for a short interview. We will give our presentations in a couple of weeks. 

In February, I took the first Dansk Prøve, a test which is required for those on 'Family Reunification' visas. There is only one testing location for the entire country, so it was a very convenient 3 1/2 hour drive for us. I'm still waiting for the results, but the test was easy. 

Monkey Baby turned two in March, so she's not really a baby anymore. But she's definitely still a monkey. She's funny and frustrating and totally charming. Her English and Danish are both developing quickly which is completely fascinating to me as one raised mono-lingually. Currently trending is 'ikke' (not) with everything: 

'Daddy henne?' (Where's Daddy?)

'Daddy's in the living room opening the curtains.'

'Nej, mama, ikke curtains.'

'Well, he is opening the curtains.'

'Ikke curtains!'

'Take it up with Daddy.'

'Time to get ready for bed, Monkey.' 

'Nej, ikke bed.' 

'Yes, and then we'll read some books.' 

'Nej, mama, ikke read books!' 

'But you love books!' 

(pause) 'Yaaaay books!'

So that's fun.

Påske is everywhere right now. Easter. There are familiar themes of eggs and chocolate bunnies, and the ad magazines are full of offers on legs of lamb and pickled herring. 

Easter dresses, c. 1987

This morning my choir sang for the Palm Sunday service out at Mejrup Kirke. Even though I've been to church here before--and to this church in particular--I still decided to wear high heels, dress slacks, and a dry-clean-only top. It must be something ingrained. Growing up, we always dressed up for church. But today, I felt a little out of place in a sea of sensible shoes and no-nonsense attire. 

This is not the first time I've felt inappropriately dressed at an event in Denmark, so I'm considering generating a chart which details occasions and clothing options that can be cross-referenced with times of day.

• Evening birthday in a garden tent: casual with sweater
• Afternoon birthday: nice casual, take along practical shoes for a forest/beach walk
• Confirmation with a nursing infant: squeeze into that one black dress and hope for the best
• Confirmation at a golf resort: GO SHOPPING
• Church: freely choose any of the frumpy clothes in your closet

It's a work in progress.

To finish my spring cleaning, I need to mention my dad. He pops up in my writing now and then, often in conjunction with athletic achievements, and his latest accomplishment is the Melbourne Ironman. 

As with his first Coeur d'Alene Ironman, there was a bit of drama. There was a trip to the ER to deal with recurring gut blockage caused by the radiation several years ago. There was morphine and an IV drip. There was a mad dash to the airport directly from the VA hospital. There was a recurrence of bronchitis. There was dehydration. Ultimately, there was an Ironman, and his name is Dwight Schuh. 

He finished sixth out of seven in the 70-74 age group, sticking it out to the end with fellow American Richard Weinbrandt who came in seventh with 1 1/2 lungs following a lung infection and surgery in December 2014. To quote my sister, 'Sounds like the old guy division isn't for wimps.' You can say that again.

Sorry you didn't get your Kona qualifier, dad. We still think you're alright.

Driving with Old Men and a Sluggish New Year

Viking Man tows Monkey through the Christmas snow

Yesterday I gave two old men a ride. It was uncomfortably silent except for brief directions given by one man and repeated by the other. The route was random and meandering. I felt tense and overly warm. When we reached our final destination, I turned off the car and sat quietly. The man in the front seat looked at me.

'Margie, du får et kørekort,' he said. I didn't need to wait for the translator in order to understand that I had just passed my driving test! 

It's a good way to start the new year which has otherwise been chugging along in a pathetic effort to take off. I guess the Monkey didn't get the memo about making resolutions to sleep through the night or to get herself dressed and make her own breakfast. 

What point of Danish culture should I explore next, now that my driving adventure is over?