Nothing exciting really. But don't worry, I'm not afraid to bore you guys.
The regular season ended about two weeks ago. That's kind-of-sort-of fun. The team did about as well as we expected but not as well as we hoped. My husband had a great season though, and if I'm honest, that's really all I cared about. Some of you might think that's an awful thing to say, considering hockey is a team sport, but it's the truth.
So hockey-wise, now it's time to exercise that patience we've had to develop over the past few seasons and hope for the best (like, oh, I don't know ... a two year deal and a little stability).
Pretty please. Anyone ... Anyone?
Hey, I learned to drive standard! ... After finding out that an automatic was available this entire time. If you don't know why this is a big deal, then I am disappointed in you ... and you have some serious catching up to do.
|Really? This looked "cooler and faster"?|
He's an ass. An ass with a point, but still an ass.
Linden loves kindergarten. He and Lily are still going strong, in spite of the fact that she took scissors to her beautiful blonde hair. He's spewing German and it blows my mind. He spilled juice the other day and immediately said, "Entschuldigung!" While fighting over a spot on the couch with his buddy he said, "Nein, mein Platz!" And yesterday, as he pushed me out from in front of the mirror, to check himself out, he said, "Geh weg!" He is a little monster but I am so proud of him.
Speaking of kindergarten, I caved on a few things. I put him in tights and I allowed (and I use the word allowed loosely) him to go to the sauna. Basically I got to the kindergarten as Linden's class was heading out the door. Guess who forgot to pass along the message that it was sauna day? I'll give you a hint: my ass of a husband! I had some not-so-kid-friendly plans that I couldn't break so off he went. Linden's verdict? "It's just a room that makes your face and hair really very hot and you read books in there." We'll call it a success, for now.
We got a notice in the mail last Friday, letting us know that there's a package waiting for us at customs. I figured it had to be an Easter package from my mom or dad, so I happily made the 45 minute trek to the Zollamt. I handed over the notice and was immediately brought into a small room that reminded me way too much of the airport or police station interrogation rooms I have seen in movies. I thought she'd grab the package and have me open it (standard procedure) but she just sat down and started saying, "Snus! Snus!"
Finally she opened her mouth and pointed at her gums. Ah, Skruf! My husband's fancy-schmancy chewing tobacco from Sweden. The same chewing tobacco he supposedly quit chewing two weeks ago in preparation for baby-making. Awesome. I drove all the way here for this.
For whatever reason, it seemed to be a problem that he ordered it. She started asking question after question after question and while I understood everything, I couldn't formulate a sentence to save my life.
Ich ... eishockey ... aber ... fußbol ... was ... bitte ... morgen ... kein ... links ... weiner schnitzel ... ? Scheiße, this is going nowhere fast.
This nonsense went on for about twenty minutes. In the end I learned that he needs to jump through about 15 hoops before they'll release this crap to him. And by release I mean put it back in the mail because they can't actually hand it to him ... because everything is ass-backward over here.
I left the Zollamt with pit stains so big I probably shouldn't admit to them and drove straight to H&M where I promptly bought myself a dress and a scarf for my troubles. With money from his poker account.
I think it'd be a good idea to learn (more) German this summer.