tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-75139762012-02-15T20:35:38.625+01:00Amylounoreply@blogger.comBlogger2691100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7513976.post-28976739800816935182011-04-08T12:55:00.000+02:002011-04-08T12:56:27.577+02:00

and continues...www.frugan.wordpress.com

Amylounoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7513976.post-1141407253938979852006-03-05T19:35:00.000+01:002006-03-11T09:20:46.366+01:00

Question of the month: what is the lifespan of a blog?The blogosphere is getting more crowded by the minute and I've started to wonder, how long will all these blogs last, and why would they end? Are we going to be reading about so and so's thoughts on that guy or this place until she dies?I'm not sure what the future of all the new and old blogs will be, if blogging is going to be something so '

Amylounoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7513976.post-1140546027839444182006-02-21T19:00:00.000+01:002006-02-21T20:25:01.803+01:00

It was a very good weekend. I spent Friday night alone. Erik was in Stockholm hanging out with Comet Gain and I was in the mood to do nothing. Since the girls that I most love to do nothing with live a few thousand miles away, I did my nothing solo. Although I would always rather Erik be in the room than not, I still get a silly thrill at the prospect of a weekend night alone. I rented movies

Amylounoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7513976.post-1137610608188462552006-02-13T20:48:00.000+01:002006-02-13T21:00:19.293+01:00

While sitting on the train, when I’m not shouting at people in my head, or reading, or sleeping, I’m sometimes mulling over an important purchase. That is, the very first thing I will buy with my first paycheck.The practical side of me thought it was high time I got a new wallet. My very dear wallet with a silk-screened bicycle has died many times over. I’ve patched it and re-Velcroed it and

Amylounoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7513976.post-1139335850571910872006-02-07T19:07:00.000+01:002006-02-07T21:16:15.260+01:00

I have scoured the remnants of the final final sales, and come away with a pair of pointy black boots (a half size too small) that go well with jeans and skirts, for everyday office wear. I have purchased new plastic containers for my lunches. I have gone to the library and stacked up on reading material and downloaded podcasts. But surrounding myself with employment accessories and the general

Amylounoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7513976.post-1138912043366306632006-02-04T18:18:00.000+01:002006-02-05T01:38:20.666+01:00

I thought I would miss Oprah. I thought I would mourn her.During the last few months, she's been my one of my dearest companions. On many a quiet day, she was the only person besides Erik who spoke to me. On my least-inspired days, she gave me something to talk about at the dinner table. After a few months of Oprah references I began to get self-conscious, even with Erik. We'd sit over our plates

Amylounoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7513976.post-1138549367285616252006-01-29T16:50:00.000+01:002006-01-29T17:27:59.166+01:00

Yesterday was a social day. Tomorrow is a work day. So what is today? Today is a Jane Austen day. It's not a Dickens day. Dickens days are cozy and filled with hot-chocolate (or warm sherry). It's not a magazine or a newspaper day. It's not a day for new authors. And, unfortunately, it just isn't the day that I'm going to finally get into Den Amerikanska Flickan.Today is the day after and the day

Amylounoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7513976.post-1138107226406254952006-01-24T13:52:00.000+01:002006-01-25T14:20:49.230+01:00

For the past few days I've had some unfinished business hanging over my head. I don't start working until next week, so it's not professional stress. No, this unfinished business is firmly planted in the housewife realm.It's a head of cabbage and two Sudoku puzzles.Last week I had a craving for vegetable pot stickers and, since the Chinese restaurants around here are resoundingly un-vegetarian, I

Amylounoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7513976.post-1137597715805038212006-01-20T08:51:00.000+01:002006-01-20T17:20:19.903+01:00

I read the newspaper every morning. When I say read, you understand that I mostly mean browse. For my Swedish, I do try to read-read at least one article everyday (right now I'm enjoying the series on the problematic notion of 2006 as "The Year of Multiculture" here in Sweden). Some days, though, I bend the definition of article. On bad mornings you can find me flipping right past the news to the

Amylounoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7513976.post-1137604384438136402006-01-18T18:08:00.000+01:002006-01-18T18:15:43.543+01:00

in try trying to tell your friend that her mother is "crafty," you say that she is "kraftig." This is another way of saying fat.

Amylounoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7513976.post-1137236607524392962006-01-14T11:13:00.000+01:002006-01-14T12:09:58.660+01:00

you eat your veggie burger with a fork and knife.The Swedes like their cutlery. They cut take-out pizzas with bearnaise sauce not into slices, but bit by bit, like a big flat cheesy steak. Sure they'll pick up their grilled goat cheese and arugula ciabatta, but not until they've given it a good go with the fork and knife. Erik even uses a knife to eat spaghetti, which is just blasphemous. And

Amylounoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7513976.post-1136887370460955432006-01-10T21:50:00.000+01:002006-01-11T08:27:02.506+01:00

Forget the added income; forget the ability to guiltlessly add clothes to your wardrobe (although that is good), surely the best part about getting a job is the time before you start. For some unlucky people they have only a weekend, most have a week or two, I, however, was given over a month. And I'm just about in the middle of it.What am I doing with my month? Not much. Sleeping in till a

Amylounoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7513976.post-1136456464740155422006-01-05T10:11:00.000+01:002006-01-06T10:10:00.020+01:00

I'm here to tell you that Operation Have More Fun in 2006 (it would sound so much better if it were still 2001) is officially under way. You'd think Erik and I would have been slowed down by our dutiful adherence to the Fatkins diet over Christmas (fyi my stocking was filled with 36 individually wrapped Double Stufs) but this week is actually shaping up to be more than just watching Inspector

Amylounoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7513976.post-1136198440947454642006-01-02T11:07:00.000+01:002006-01-02T16:40:25.513+01:00

2005 was important.I ended my Swedish studies; two of my closest friends in Malmö had their first babies; I attended the wedding of a friend in the States (the first of what will hopefully be many of those); I took out a loan and bought an apartment; I felt my relationship with Erik jump to a new level; I weathered some depressing times here without being tempted to return to America; I stressed

Amylounoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7513976.post-1135322726662160992005-12-23T08:15:00.000+01:002005-12-23T10:32:18.593+01:00

A bottle of glögg was warmed, the ornaments were unpacked and laid on the table, a few of my first homemade pepparkakor were strung with ribbon, the lights were unpacked, and the decorating of our first Christmas tree commenced.The lights presented a bit of a problem. It was hard to get them even and nearly impossible to hide the wires in these Swedish trees that bare their trunks so boldly--we

Amylounoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7513976.post-1135099612621141142005-12-20T18:15:00.000+01:002005-12-20T18:50:59.843+01:00

Swedish and English are, of course, not the same language. Nonetheless, there are a lot of words that are very similar in both.Brother=BröderSister=SysterWinter=VinterTuesday=TisdagBus=BussSofa=SoffaTelephone=TelefonAnd most importantly, Job=JobbAs in, I got one, finally.(Insert chorus of Glorias here)

Amylounoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7513976.post-1134926419174226192005-12-20T09:08:00.000+01:002005-12-20T09:08:50.640+01:00

Considering the fact that I spent a lot of my childhod wishing I lived in the days of bonnets, butter churns, and corn-husk dolls, it's not surprising that at this time of year, I often find myself wishing that I could time travel. To eat snow covered in maple syrup like Laura Ingalls Wilder! To light the Christmas tree with real candles! To wear a muff and black lace-up boots under layers and

Amylounoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7513976.post-1134746547000971552005-12-16T16:05:00.000+01:002005-12-16T17:41:31.116+01:00

Operation Decorate the Apartment is moving along at a steady pace. Two weeks ago we painted the kitchen a lovely shade of green called "Purjo." Last week we won an auction for a dining table, and yesterday I started recovering the fabric on the chairs that came with it. An hour ago we sold our klippan sofa for less than half what we paid for it, but were happy to have sold it at all. Tomorrow,

Amylounoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7513976.post-1134503883790356912005-12-13T19:57:00.000+01:002005-12-13T22:19:20.783+01:00

Yesterday I sat on the train for 2 1/2 hours. For the last hour, I had no book, having finished The Solace of Leaving Early (just in time for tomorrow's book club). Normally the motion of the train would have put me to sleep but the cup of coffee I had had two hours before was still working through my veins (and would be until 1am). So I sat, wide awake and smushed next to a guy with his

Amylounoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7513976.post-1133892001371312992005-12-06T18:25:00.000+01:002005-12-06T23:11:47.663+01:00

Erik's no Andie MacDowell and I'm not much of a Gerard Depardieu. But yesterday, we played our parts well and I got my green card. Or, as it's called in Sweden, my Permanent Uppehållstillstånd. I can live and work here as long as I want.Early Monday morning, Erik and I arrived at the immigration office, drenched and freezing, with all our papers in order (after an early trip to the tax office).

Amylounoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7513976.post-1133545230182988032005-12-02T18:23:00.000+01:002005-12-08T09:56:02.640+01:00

Growing up, soda was like orange juice. There were plenty of things that my mom restricted: too much sugared cereal, rock candy, that weird peanut butter and jelly that was ready-blended. But, I was allowed to drink as much soda as I wanted. There was a whole separate refrigerator dedicated to it. Apart from a brief Fresca phase, Diet Coke was my drink of choice; I took after my dad.In high

Amylounoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7513976.post-1133259678959772432005-11-29T10:07:00.000+01:002005-11-29T17:59:17.570+01:00

Erik turned (honorary) American last Thursday.The Americanization of Erik has been happening for a while. When we first met, his British accent was nearly flawless. But, after being with this New Jerseyan for five years, he now speaks a mutt English: a mix of British, American, and even, occasionally, a lil' bit of Swedish (like when he referred to Hurricane Katrina as an "orkano"). The longer

Amylounoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7513976.post-1132770063204950002005-11-23T18:47:00.000+01:002005-11-23T20:51:31.286+01:00

'Twas the night before Thanksgiving, when all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a kitten.I had my Thanksgiving entry all planned out. It was to be about my love for my new kitten. But alas, we had to give him back to his real owner this afternoon. I'm shocked at how sad I am. Now that the tears have mostly stopped and only the post-cry headache, puffy eyes, and mascara

Amylounoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7513976.post-1132570671887538612005-11-21T11:43:00.000+01:002005-11-21T13:06:03.700+01:00

I am full--filled right to the brim with things to think about. And as I've noticed before, the more stuff I have to write about, the less time I have to write about it--hence the lack of posts.Offline life is in "full fart" (Full speed. And yes, it is still a little funny that fart means speed in Swedish) and I can't pause quite yet to write anything down. But, I can see the calm in the distance

Amylounoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7513976.post-1131871461336341552005-11-13T09:44:00.000+01:002005-11-13T09:54:46.313+01:00

What I didn't tell you in my last post was that Thursday was just the beginning. Unbeknownst to Erik, his birthday was only half over. On Friday night, I told him we were meeting a friend of mine and her boyfriend for drinks. Instead he walked, completely unsuspecting, into a surprise party organized by me and his parents. And after three weeks of secret keeping, I can finally breathe easy

Amylounoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7513976.post-1131698510515240892005-11-11T09:06:00.000+01:002005-11-11T13:31:23.256+01:00

Yesterday was a day of pure niceness. It was a day where I was dedicated to not being a wuss, despite the blister that was developing on my foot (after all, I chose to wear boots); it was a day where I was not a complainer, despite the fact that I was relegated to bread and butter for lunch (it’s not the world’s problem that I don’t like smoked cheese, is it?); it was a day where I was not an

Amylounoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7513976.post-1131288584745457142005-11-06T16:30:00.000+01:002005-11-06T19:20:05.543+01:00

Yesterday was busy, some might say stressful. What with talks of job searching, fruitless rug shopping, a crying session in bed due to tiredness and stress, an unwelcome latte buzz that lasted hours, the returning of bookshelves we recently bought and then promptly decided that we hated, the lighting of candles in a dark and rainy graveyard, and, finally, a quick shower and a fast walk to what

Amylounoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7513976.post-1130775668809850992005-10-31T17:08:00.000+01:002005-11-01T08:14:26.950+01:00

The Swedes are seriously confused about what to do with Halloween. They don't know whether to celebrate it (it's not Swedish), they don't know how to celebrate it (no one trick or treats), and they don't know when to celebrate it (I passed a little girl in costume last Friday while TV3 has Halloween weekend this coming weekend). Despite the Swedes' obvious lukewarm feelings towards Halloween, the

Amylounoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7513976.post-1130407293071534462005-10-27T14:15:00.000+02:002005-10-27T21:33:11.646+02:00

People who I meet for the first time still compliment me on my Swedish. The conversation tends to go something like this:Overly nice Swede: How long have you lived in Sweden?Me: Two years.Overly nice Swede: But you speak such good Swedish!Me, shaking my head and smiling as if to say "not really": Thanks.Frankly, I'm amazed this conversation is still taking place and I know it will soon stop. That

Amylounoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7513976.post-1130149248694155102005-10-24T12:18:00.000+02:002005-10-24T15:43:07.076+02:00

Question: when is a fake not a fake?Answer: when you really like it.Celia has a ring that people think is Pilgrim.Sabine has a pair of Payless ”Converse.”We have a coffee table that looks Danish.What makes these purchases more genuine to me than, say, a fake Burberry scarf is that the ring, the sneakers, and the table are appreciated not because of what they look like but because of how they

Amylounoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7513976.post-1129643709094833962005-10-18T15:07:00.000+02:002005-10-18T20:23:43.036+02:00

Well, there's no more avoiding the topic. In this part of the world it is officially cold. It was only ten days ago that I sunbathed naked(!) at kallbadhuset; only a week ago that I was sweating (without a jacket) while rushing to meet my brother at the Malmö train station; five days ago that my summer-loving brother was praising the mild Swedish weather. But sometime over the weekend, possibly

Amylounoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7513976.post-1129271220710329852005-10-14T08:09:00.000+02:002005-10-14T08:50:27.526+02:00

Amylounoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7513976.post-1128851593325628502005-10-09T10:43:00.000+02:002005-10-09T18:51:40.930+02:00

Erik and I have had a lot of airport reunions, and I remember almost all of them. October 2000, London: I wear a tight skirt and boots during the six-hour flight just so he won't be disappointed when he sees me. He is late. January 2001, London: Erik has a full beard and looks like Santa Clause. April 2001, Cleveland: I am sitting in the terminal trying to read my book but looking up every 30

Amylounoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7513976.post-1128272011581268362005-10-03T14:30:00.000+02:002005-10-03T14:50:04.193+02:00

I go to sleep with patterns swirling through my head and wake up thinking: bias tape. We're back in apartment decorating mode, and it's not so easy. There are many decisions to make, decisions that will dictate the way a room is decorated, decisions between two equally good things. Formica or wood? Oriental or shag? Another sofa or two chairs?Unable to see my way out of this indecision, I started

Amylounoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7513976.post-1127922368113502262005-09-28T17:27:00.000+02:002005-09-28T18:38:17.996+02:00

Wah! My banner is gone and I can't get it back--at least not for some time. You see, the image was stored with our old broadband company, a company we loathe and told to f-off. Except we forgot that my banner was stored on the free website we got from them, and the original image is stored on an external hard-drive that we can't get to work with our current computer.Wah! My bank in America put a

Amylounoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7513976.post-1127722961052599472005-09-26T10:15:00.000+02:002005-09-26T14:19:30.980+02:00

Yesterday, sometime before 11 am--the same time we were getting back into bed last Sunday after eating crepes--Erik and I mounted our bikes and rode off. Cross the street, past the shops, through the park, to the harbor, and in to the parking lot of the convention center, Malmö Mässan. There were two conventions going on yesterday: a textile/sewing convention and an antique convention. We were

Amylounoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7513976.post-1127057102001738722005-09-18T18:32:00.000+02:002005-09-19T08:34:17.666+02:00

There was nothing special about this weekend. No parties, no apartment fixing, not much at all. It was largely eventless and wonderful--not least because it tasted so good. There were no high-end restaurants, no interesting seasonal discoveries, just humble, good food from Friday to Sunday.I admit, the delicious weekend didn't have such an auspicious kick-off. I slept in on Friday morning and was

Amylounoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7513976.post-1126768856382787902005-09-15T08:55:00.000+02:002005-09-15T10:09:42.166+02:00

No day can be bad that starts with Erasure.Or so I thought when I turned on the radio and heard "Oh l'Amour." Forget about going back to bed, I said to myself. If there is someone in the control room who had the genius to play that song instead of the Black Eyed Peas, then I'll meet the day with equal genius. I'll write some irresistable cover letters, I'll finish the stack of books I have to

Amylounoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7513976.post-1126627876021874592005-09-13T17:30:00.000+02:002005-09-14T07:37:55.606+02:00

Even the most loving of couples are sometimes a tad dishonest with each other. Not lying exactly, just not telling everything. Erik has been sneaking around behind my back with snus, after trying for months to quit. It all started a few weeks back when I was doing the laundry like a good little housewife. As I went to throw Erik's scuzzy work jeans into the washer, I felt something in his pocket.

Amylounoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7513976.post-1126032272701175342005-09-08T21:58:00.000+02:002005-09-09T12:39:13.533+02:00

I was walking through the city center the other day when I saw this sign on the window of Mäster Livs, a high-end supermarket. I'd seen this kind of thing before but this time I happened to have my camera. As I looked at it, I started wondering how accurately it represented American food, and if this selection was a good one to tempt me into the store. So, let's go through the products, shall we?

Amylounoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7513976.post-1126001057418632212005-09-06T11:13:00.000+02:002005-09-06T13:12:14.593+02:00

Some things on my mind, this Tuesday, September 6th:I am a spacy idiot who went to the supermarket expressly to buy toilet paper and came home with many other things and, you guessed it, no toilet paper.I can't seem to stop going to the new Åhlens City, even though I shouldn't be shopping. I am very happy about the new faux-lace shower curtain I bought yesterday (and we really did need a new one)

Amylounoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7513976.post-1125481092466457612005-08-31T10:41:00.000+02:002005-09-01T06:50:46.673+02:00

In general, I'm fine in front of audiences. I was in high school musicals (and even sang a solo in Godspell "Day by day, day by day, oh dear Lord, three things I pray..."), I hammed it up in camp productions, and you can't keep me away from a good karaoke night. But last night I did something that had me shaking in my new slippers: I spoke live on Swedish radio, in Swedish. Gulp.A few weeks ago

Amylounoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7513976.post-1125390374337384942005-08-30T10:02:00.000+02:002005-08-30T18:44:44.856+02:00

There's trouble on the home front and it's our new apartment's fault. Moving to a bigger place has meant that we have more ceiling than before and, consequently, more light fixtures on the ceiling. We also have pretty wooden floors instead of the horrible plastic ones we had in the last place. But these positive changes (bigger! prettier!) are causing our idiosyncrasies to act up. Erik has some

Amylounoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7513976.post-1124992719111441022005-08-25T19:57:00.000+02:002005-09-01T21:54:48.040+02:00

Who knew that ferries from Bornholm sell out weeks in advance? Not me! That’s why we found ourselves on Friday morning rising at 5:15 am to catch a 6:45 am ferry back to Sweden. We found a quiet table on the upper deck but were soon surrounded by a bevy of adolescents off to mainland Denmark for a school trip. They were remarkably well-behaved for tired twelve-year-olds—until a few naughty girls

Amylounoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7513976.post-1124788105712975712005-08-23T11:06:00.000+02:002005-08-23T12:00:09.266+02:00

It’s strange to wake up and not have to rush. There are no sights to see today, no buffet breakfasts at a hotel to sneak into, no one to coordinate with. It’s just me and my phlegm for company.Yes, I’m sick with a solid summer cold—or is it a sinus infection? The last two days with my parents were spent with me curled up in their hotel bed, surrounded by used tissues, and hydrated with tea made

Amylounoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7513976.post-1124139347243050082005-08-15T22:44:00.000+02:002005-08-15T22:56:58.640+02:00

I can't stay long. This is the beginning of a desk free, computer free week. You see, although I haven't been blogging, I've been physically attached to the computer for days, hardly managing more than a mumble to my sweet co-habitant. And that mumble was usually me saying, "Can you read this?"I've been in the final throes of essay writing, clocking in a full fourteen hours of desk-sitting on

Amylounoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7513976.post-1123678056154147522005-08-10T14:42:00.000+02:002005-08-12T15:30:30.270+02:00

RESIST the urge to tell everyone that you’ve applied for a job you really want, because not getting that job sucks enough without also being embarrassed that everyone you know knew you were waiting to hear.DO NOT check your email in the library during the week you are expecting to hear back from Mr. Why Don’t You Like Me? When you get the rejection email you will be forced to cower among

Amylounoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7513976.post-1123436160501047452005-08-07T19:24:00.000+02:002005-08-07T21:01:57.396+02:00

A few weeks ago, my mom mentioned that I should listen to the latest (July 22) This American Life. Through the show, she was introduced to a concept she was sure I would find funny—The Modern Jackass. She explained the basic idea to me: to be a modern jackass is to talk about something of which you have a little bit of knowledge as if you had a lot. We both agreed that we were often modern

Amylounoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7513976.post-1122993773574013742005-08-02T15:36:00.000+02:002005-08-04T08:50:10.450+02:00

Just in case you ever find yourself at the coffee machine, wondering if you should finally stick it to your boss and quit, I'm here to remind you of a very obvious fact: applying for jobs is not fun. Application deadlines? Not fun. Interpreting gibberish job descriptions to see if maybe they contain the words: English, editing, reading, or "an American named Amy living in Malmö"? Not fun. Finding

Amylounoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7513976.post-1122722974080273992005-07-30T12:16:00.000+02:002005-07-30T14:17:06.900+02:00

Let me ask you something. Do you care about Snoopy? Did you ever? Here in Sweden, Snoopy seems to be rather beloved and still pops up as if he were part of current pop culture and not, well, a little bit of a relic.I never read the old school Peanuts comics so I admit, my knowledge of the characters might not be very authentic, coming mostly from late Schultz comic strips (which I understand were

Amylounoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7513976.post-1122488135186303842005-07-27T20:08:00.000+02:002005-07-27T20:15:35.196+02:00

The past two days have been apartment crazy, but ultimately, they’ve helped me to calm down. I admit it, I’ve been grumpy. I’ve been whiney. I’ve been bitchy. And I repent.Around ten days ago, the whole ‘we bought an apartment’ thing stopped being fun. We still had boxes sitting in the exact same place we put them down on July 1st. And although we’ve worked a lot and shopped a lot, it felt like

Amylounoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7513976.post-1122198453928406032005-07-24T10:54:00.000+02:002005-08-31T10:15:26.096+02:00

Hej! Welcome back to the world of dial-up internet connections! You remember--it's a world of impossible slowness. A world where for every minute you spend online your wallet loses a few öre (cents). A world where uploading pictures is pretty much impossible unless you want to spend ten hours in front of the computer. A world where you actually do spend ten hours (give or take a few) posting a

Amylounoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7513976.post-1121342292768196302005-07-14T13:32:00.000+02:002005-07-14T13:59:22.023+02:00

July 14th, 2000. At this time on that day I was eating lunch with friends, thinking only about what was coming that evening: a date with Erik.We had met a week earlier, on my second night of five weeks in England. A few days later I asked Lauren for his number and gathered all my strength to make that fateful phone call. It went something like this:(The scene: Me on a payphone with my two new

Amylounoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7513976.post-1121077221517894402005-07-11T11:33:00.000+02:002005-07-11T12:31:22.856+02:00

I've just come to the library after a last-minute detour to water my friends' plants, something I forgot to do last night. I've been, as my mom likes to say, "on automatic" recently, being clumsy and forgetful as I try to make it through some frazzled days. On the outside, things don't appear too stressful: the weather is perfect, I have oodles of jobless free time, and a new apartment to enjoy.

Amylounoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7513976.post-1120641639092033272005-07-06T10:43:00.000+02:002005-07-06T12:10:35.256+02:00

Well, we're in. There are boxes in the living room, and I still have my toiletries on the bedroom floor, but after five nights, the new apartment is beginning to feel like home.It all started last Thursday night with the "inspection" that turned out not to be an inspection at all since we soon learned that nothing we were unhappy about would actually be fixed. We also learned that we'd have to

Amylounoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7513976.post-1120112144275281162005-06-30T07:10:00.000+02:002005-06-30T08:31:24.000+02:00

I'm not a late sleeper, but rarely do I pop out of bed at 6:30 when I don't have to, especially when the day promises to be as boring and dusty as this one (still packing!). Today, though, I did just that. Erik, closing the front door on the way to his factory job, told me that I was nuts and should go back to sleep. Instead I put on my new one dollar H&M kimono-robe and made myself some

Amylounoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7513976.post-1119989021120547672005-06-28T21:57:00.000+02:002005-06-28T22:20:19.600+02:00

Neither Erik nor I are good packers. We're not disorganized but we're both clinging to the far edge of organization. In packing we get distracted, we get bored, we get cranky. So I devised a scheme for tonight and even a name, "PackFest 2005." We are desperately trying, as we speak, to have a modicum of packing fun, or at least get a few boxes taped up.To help us we have employed:Beer and an

Amylounoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7513976.post-1119867290464892192005-06-27T12:13:00.000+02:002005-06-28T08:23:35.593+02:00

One night in late April, as Erik and I were walking bundled in scarves, I made a declaration: if this summer sucks as royally as last summer did, I’m not sure if I can live in Sweden. As I’ve explained elsewhere, I can handle the cold and windy Nordic winters as long as there are a few days of warmth every year. Well maybe the Norse gods heard me, because this weekend’s midsommar celebration

Amylounoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7513976.post-1119381777843280182005-06-21T20:46:00.000+02:002005-06-21T22:05:47.546+02:00

I'm covered in attic dust right now. I had sworn to myself that I would make my mom's life easier by spending one of my twelve days in New Jersey by going through my many boxes. Instead, I've spent two hours of my last day trying to do an express version of the mega throw-out. I managed to finally weed out the boring college text books from the novels, and picked out a few things I want to bring

Amylounoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7513976.post-1118759106068665602005-06-14T10:31:00.000+02:002005-06-16T15:08:09.830+02:00

Even if I weren't jet-lagged, my head would have a hard time wrapping itself around the excitement of the last few days. It all started last week when my dear friend gave birth a month earlier than expected. Then after the insanity that is the week before a vacation, I flew over the Atlantic, finally met the lovely Molly, hosted a barbecue, had coffee with a friend I hadn't seen in eight years,

Amylounoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7513976.post-1118384284003241702005-06-10T08:18:00.000+02:002005-06-10T08:19:15.546+02:00

Erik took me out to dinner last night and I ordered a truly disgusting dish of glass noodles and vegetables that tasted like oil and oil. Luckily, Erik had prepared for such a crisis by making sure we had dessert in the freezer. I'm not sure why it took me so long, but after much planning I finally got to try a Tip Top. We ate them during a bright, 9pm walk.The Tip Top didn't disappoint. Had

Amylounoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7513976.post-1118051076288862002005-06-06T10:46:00.000+02:002005-06-06T16:36:01.646+02:00

I'm sure somewhere in my archives there is a mention of my LOVE for holidays as a child. I had bulletin boards that I decorated, I had festive socks, I had pins for my school vest, I had long nails painted for the season. But I could never wrap my brain around Flag Day because Flag Day? What the hell can you do besides hum "You're a Grand Old Flag"? On June 14th, Flag day is also totally

Amylounoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7513976.post-1117787826530295312005-06-03T10:11:00.000+02:002005-06-03T11:44:32.583+02:00

I have some things I'd like to write about but, well, sometimes life gets in the way of blogging. In the meantime, here's a meme. Meme's seem to be exploding all over the blogworld right now. Ida tagged me for this one.1. How many bags and pairs of shoes do you own?I'm not sure how many bags I own but right now I have eight in circulation and one that I just ordered is on its way to New Jersey.My

Amylounoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7513976.post-1117372442730852432005-05-29T15:01:00.000+02:002005-05-29T18:13:32.283+02:00

One of the most stubborn challenges of living abroad is making peace with missing out on things "back home." It's the not letting yourself feel jealous when you hear what your friends did last Friday; it's accepting that every piece of gossip might not find its way across the Atlantic to you; it's the wishing that events are perfect even if you can't be there.A few months ago I had to make a

Amylounoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7513976.post-1117034510951063122005-05-25T17:21:00.000+02:002005-05-25T18:10:39.430+02:00

This morning there was no pleading with Erik to get out of bed, there was no email checking before breakfast, we had business to attend to: breaking the fast. As suggested, we didn’t go nuts. We had some plain yoghurt, a sprinkling of granola, and I cut into our fresh sourdough bread and gave us each a small, perfect hunk (the piece in the picture cut in two--that's restraint).I had distracted

Amylounoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7513976.post-1116870325087268782005-05-23T19:35:00.000+02:002005-05-23T22:58:20.003+02:00

First, a few things you should know about me if we’re going to be friends: I have a deep fear of being invited for dinner at someone’s house and not being fed enough; I have very little problem taking the last hors d’oeuvre; and I don’t trust people who go by the serving size. 2 cookies? An 1/8 of a box of spaghetti? Are you crazy? In my world, more is more is more is more. And what isn’t eaten,

Amylounoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7513976.post-1116260379650420742005-05-17T13:44:00.000+02:002005-05-17T17:05:12.846+02:00

Occasionally, instant messaging is more than just delay-impaired small talk. Juliet and I were "chatting" on Friday afternoon when she asked if I could answer a work-related question. I was expecting something along the lines of "How does this font work for this link?" or "Is this sentence clear?" Instead she hit me with "What would you say makes someone American?" I tried to get my Friday

Amylounoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7513976.post-1116064354775462002005-05-14T11:17:00.000+02:002005-05-14T14:23:45.623+02:00

What kind of wine do you drink with soy dogs and french fries? The answer is probably the brown bubbly kind that's not called wine at all but cola. But a glass of coke, while fun, just doesn't say Friday night like wine does. So Erik and I washed our dogs down with glasses of rosé. Over dinner we talked about American identity and embalming and then we hurried out the door to catch a movie. We

Amylounoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7513976.post-1115675398045929062005-05-09T23:36:00.000+02:002005-05-09T23:58:36.223+02:00

For all our days working together over the past two months, there are times when Erik and I just have to go it alone. This is what Erik's world looks like right now. It's a world of coffee brewed at midnight and desperate phone calls from similarly last-minute friends. My world on the other hand is one of flannel pajama pants, a fluffy duvet, and a light book.I swore I would be annoyed at him

Amylounoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7513976.post-1115570863736290432005-05-08T17:40:00.000+02:002005-05-08T23:15:05.046+02:00

I am here to tell you that it really is possible, at the spry age of 26, to have a week where one of the most exciting things to happen is the reemergence of the Tip Top. The Swedish expression jag orkar inte is a favorite of mine. It can range in seriousness from "I can't be assed" to "Dear Lord, I can't go on anymore." This was a week where I didn't "orka" very much at all. My body was heavy, I

Amylounoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7513976.post-1115056630442865532005-05-02T23:29:00.000+02:002006-03-26T21:28:19.636+02:00

We only burned in spring on Saturday but what with our modern attention spans just two days later everyone is poised for summer. Or, more accurately, the wild amounts of ice cream consumption that will come with it.I grew up in walking distance from a Magic Fountain (a small chain that split from Dairy Queen when DQ wanted to use less cream, or so legend has it). The linoleum floors, helium

Amylounoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7513976.post-1114861540789236042005-04-30T13:34:00.000+02:002005-04-30T13:45:40.793+02:00

The surreality (which apparently isn't a word, but you know what I mean) of seeing a familiar American face step off the train from Copenhagen and into the Malmö train station is becoming less intense as the amount of visitors I've had increases. In the first year, my excitement for visitors was mixed with nerves. Will they like it? Will they get what I’m doing here? At this point though, after

Amylounoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7513976.post-1114618956319081182005-04-27T18:04:00.000+02:002005-04-27T18:24:41.080+02:00

Aside from the usual insane winds, the weather today was a little more pleasant than it's been for the last few days. I hear people talking left and right about how wonderfully Springish it's been. I nod along but in reality I'm thinking: either they're in denial or I need to go to the doctor, because I'm freezing.A milder temperature was the first good surprise of the day. The second was that I

Amylounoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7513976.post-1114362354466184072005-04-24T22:38:00.000+02:002005-04-25T08:33:41.010+02:00

Erik and I have gotten into a dangerous pattern of tv snacking. Popcorn popping is like muzak to me now. Those twin devils--chips and dip--have lost all their naughtiness. I'd known that we'd gone too far, that we really should be able to zone out without pigging out. Then last night, our undiscussed addiction to all things phatly saturated led to the most ridiculous argument that Erik and I have

Amylounoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7513976.post-1114200134732703942005-04-22T21:40:00.000+02:002005-04-22T22:04:01.803+02:00

Today wasn't nearly as productive as I needed it to be, but then again, sometimes what's really needed is nonproductivity. Erik and I left the house for the library at 10:30 am. On our way, we decided to pick up a present for our friends and their new baby daughter, who turned 1 week old today. These are our first close friends to have a kid, so we're pretty excited. We had already bought a Malmö

Amylounoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7513976.post-1113936316326468242005-04-19T20:11:00.000+02:002005-04-19T20:52:38.923+02:00

I'm sorry but my intelligence quotient has been used up for the day. Any thoughts of substance that my brain held this morning were slowly poured into my take-home exam this afternoon. So what you get, my friends, is another post about my hienie. But first, my feet.I have the type of toes that go in descending size order from the big toe to the pinkie, meaning that my second toe is not longer

Amylounoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7513976.post-1113750981375939612005-04-17T16:49:00.000+02:002005-04-18T17:53:01.723+02:00

I am officially disobeying myself right now. I have no business being online, yet alone blogging. My place is not in front of this computer in the living room. No, I should be hidden behind my stacks of books on the kitchen table, typing on the other computer, the louder, bigger, uglier one. I should be forcing my brain to come up with brilliant links between Althusser's "reproduction of the

Amylounoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7513976.post-1113379946095598622005-04-13T10:07:00.000+02:002005-04-13T16:43:20.466+02:00

Seven to eight hours of sleep a night. Thirty minutes of cardio every morning. Eight hours of work at the office. Twenty minutes of reading to your children before bed. This is how good people divide up their days. There must also be a figure, in some self-help book, somewhere, telling us how many hours a day we should spend in our loved one's face. Whatever that magic figure is -- two hours?

Amylounoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7513976.post-1113246083904522122005-04-11T20:30:00.000+02:002005-04-11T22:25:17.460+02:00

I went to summer camp for seven years. Five years for three weeks, two years for six weeks, and I don't remember ever being homesick. I spent the days before visiting day making buttons and pine-needle pillows for my parents and I inevitably got choked up when the picnic was packed up and my family loaded into the van, but I could always shake off the melancholy after the first few kicks of

Amylounoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7513976.post-1112898043203278102005-04-07T19:35:00.000+02:002005-04-07T20:43:38.333+02:00

Some days are about getting things done, and today was a day of appointments. The first was with the washing machine. Erik took the 7am shift; I went down at 8am to hang and reload. Loading, drying, hanging, reloading until 12 pm. At 1pm it was time for my hair appointment. As usual, I got my spring craving to chop things off and lighten things up. Out with the mini ponytail, in with the bob. Out

Amylounoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7513976.post-1112807277110728952005-04-06T18:09:00.000+02:002005-04-07T10:10:37.250+02:00

Yesterday I found out some things that I'd like to share with you.1. My neighbors are not ripping up their floors. The persistent scratching that I had been hearing since Sunday (and attributing to remodelling) was actually caused by a pigeon caught in the ceiling vent of our bathroom. A man was sent, the pigeon was removed, and the dominion of the bathroom was returned to the rightful party --

Amylounoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7513976.post-1112542028126402962005-04-03T16:35:00.000+02:002005-04-03T18:00:23.390+02:00

I was a little confused during my first semester of college. By confused, I mean really, really motivated. So motivated that I would often skip lunch to read in the library. As I've explained before, skipping a meal is not in my nature. During those first few months, I just didn't see any other way to get my work done and still have time to hang out in the dorm hallway with my AWESOME NEW FRIENDS

Amylounoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7513976.post-1112454558159428132005-04-02T16:38:00.000+02:002005-04-02T17:45:41.166+02:00

The weather is such right now that in the sun, you can almost go jacketless, and in the shade, you need a scarf. The city is swarming with attractive young couples and their offspring, out for some spring air and a bit of couples-with-babies socializing. At 3 pm Erik picked me up from the library and we walked through the park to one of Malmö's cutest cafes, which was simply overrun with the

Amylounoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7513976.post-1112202946599790112005-03-30T18:43:00.000+02:002005-03-30T20:31:26.063+02:00

Smaklöken. The taste bud, or the theme for today.My class ended at noon. I had planned to go straight to the library, which is why I had a foil-wrapped peanut-butter sandwich in my bag. Instead of holing up with a book and sneaking peanut-buttery bites while the librarians weren't looking, I took the afternoon off -- kind of. I went out to lunch with my classmates, our teacher, and a visiting

Amylounoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7513976.post-1111951257550457602005-03-27T21:20:00.000+02:002005-03-27T21:32:08.886+02:00

When you haven't got much of a sweet-tooth, when no one hides eggs for you, and when you don't go to church, the joy of Easter turns into a good old-fashioned pagan celebration of spring. We did the only sensible thing to do on such a crisp, sunny spring Sunday: we closed our books, took off our pajamas, ate a lunch of leftover asparagus soup, and drove to the nearest castle. Erik, his father,

Amylounoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7513976.post-1111764033509255242005-03-25T15:07:00.000+01:002006-01-11T11:57:50.083+01:00

I know. Just bear with me for one last mention of the big 2-6 (and one picture of a hot dog).Tuesday was the only day during the past week that I didn't celebrate. And, not surprisingly, Tuesday pretty much sucked. That was the day I realized just how stressed out I am about my upcoming thesis. It was also the day I cried about said stress. One bad day in the middle of four happy ones is hardly

Amylounoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7513976.post-1111424777051556972005-03-21T17:26:00.000+01:002005-03-21T19:30:07.660+01:00

Obviously today is the oldest I've ever been but it's also the oldest I've ever felt. Even if some birthdays (namely 16, 17, 18, 21) have had more meaning attached to their number ("sweet!", "drive!", "vote!", "drink!") this one seems the weightiest. I'm fine with staying 26 forever but the years will just keep on coming. I guess this means you all can start buying me those "You're not another

Amylounoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7513976.post-1110969004048129542005-03-17T10:59:00.000+01:002005-03-17T19:09:49.586+01:00

I turn 26 on Monday. That's twelve years too old for a heartthrob. Twelve years during which I should have learned that love is about commitment, mutual respect, and actually knowing someone. Here I am, though, almost closer to 30 than 20 and I still heart a heartthrob.It all started with Adam Ant, continued on to Bryan Adams, and picked up again with Jordan Knight. I abandoned the New Kids for

Amylounoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7513976.post-1110962574391801292005-03-16T08:52:00.000+01:002005-03-16T09:56:37.566+01:00

The hotel in Stockholm had a nice breakfast, so there was no need to buy muffins at a gas station. We got on the road, ready for the long drive back to Malmö at around 11 am. It was a quiet ride in the van, with people reading and listening to music. I didn't dare to take out Great Expectations so I tried to sleep a little. It would have been easier if my feet hadn't been so fucking freezing. It

Amylounoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7513976.post-1110895102436207642005-03-15T14:34:00.000+01:002005-03-16T09:50:34.396+01:00

Because Joseph paid less attention to the icy highway than I would have liked, we made it from Linköping to Stockholm in two hours. The speed turned out to be a good thing, since I was hit with a strong case of car sickness about twenty minutes before arrival. It could have been due to the cinnamon muffins I bought at the gas station outside Linköping or the hundred pages of Great Expectations I

Amylounoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7513976.post-1110822551066157292005-03-14T18:12:00.000+01:002005-03-16T09:50:16.696+01:00

Having now only one real weekday (everyday but Tuesday I am left to decide my own study/work/play schedule), I decided that my weekend would begin on Thursday and worked extra hard earlier in the week to make it possible.At 2:15 pm, I boarded the x2000 train bound for Stockholm and arrived at 5 pm in Linköping. The train was pretty luxurious, outfitted with plenty of leg-room and a cafe car.

Amylounoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7513976.post-1110729698722650272005-03-13T16:38:00.000+01:002005-03-13T17:01:38.726+01:00

If my Swedish teachers could see me now...Maybe they'd breathe a sigh of relief. Just because I'm not taking Swedish classes anymore doesn't mean I'm abandoning the language. Tvärtom! Now I feel even more motivated to get out into the real world with my Swedish. Witness my new hangout: http://stavfel.thought-bubbles.com/ Okay, so the internet isn't the real world, per se, but you know what I

Amylounoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7513976.post-1110308627279576812005-03-09T01:11:00.000+01:002005-03-09T01:07:08.766+01:00

Cockroach in Swedish is kackerlacka. Only a country that doesn't have to deal with the hideous creatures could call them by such a fun name. Something I really love about this country is that it seems to be roach-free. If this apartment was in New York, it would surely have them. We wouldn't be the cause (even if I've yet to learn the art of frequent vacuuming), it's the surroundings. The

Amylounoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7513976.post-1109783229406628152005-03-07T12:09:00.000+01:002005-03-07T12:13:20.066+01:00

I quit my Swedish classes last Monday.That sentence looks so flat when how I'm really feeling is: (insert an image of me doing back handsprings) Woop dee do, tra la la, hoorah hoorah hoorah, I quit my Swedish classes on Monday!!! That's three exclamation marks worth of relief.For the last two months I have been a bad Swedish student. I've complained about the classes, I've written text messages

Amylounoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7513976.post-1109849298286272212005-03-03T11:42:00.000+01:002005-03-03T12:35:12.620+01:00

Did you know that it's possible to fishtail on a bike? Never thought about it? I hadn't either until the nano-second before I went flying from White Lady (my bicycle). Just then I thought: huh, I think this is what they call fishtailing. And the next thing I knew I was on all fours in front of many commuters.Last winter in Malmö was cold and gray and rainy. This one has been cold, fairly sunny,

Amylounoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7513976.post-1109674082541768002005-03-01T11:21:00.000+01:002005-03-01T11:52:02.106+01:00

I looked at Erik across the breakfast table this morning, wearing the new robe I got from his mother. It's an unflaterring thing: big, knee-length, cream-colored fleece. Since I had already showered and gotten dressed, Erik was wearing it to keep warm in our drafty kitchen. Underneath he had on flannel pajama pants and the white slippers that say: Marriott Hotel & Resorts, our only souvenirs from

Amylounoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7513976.post-1109491332566228942005-02-27T09:06:00.000+01:002005-02-27T09:29:50.546+01:00

I have a hard time being spontaneous. Every morning I wake up with a vision of how the day will proceed and although I rarely tell Erik (for fear of sounding really and truly dull), I know exactly what food I'll eat, which friends I'll call, how much TV I'll watch, whether or not I'll take a bath, etc. Mostly I'm not out to change this behaviour but it does have two negative effects:1. It turns

Amylounoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7513976.post-1109231826330388452005-02-24T08:45:00.000+01:002005-02-24T11:48:32.590+01:00

In the past week, I've travelled from Malmö to Hamburg to Malmö to Göteborg and back to Malmö. In that week there have been saunas, explorations, drinks with parents, preparations for an exam, an appointment with a gynecologist, and a funeral. And way too much pasta. Who knew that Hamburg would hold an Italian restaurant on every corner--the very thing I miss so much here in Malmö? Various

Amylounoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7513976.post-1108701638823414492005-02-18T05:28:00.000+01:002005-02-18T05:40:38.823+01:00

If I remember correctly, in June the sun is already rising here by 5:30 am. Not in February. It's still dark now and it will be dark when Erik and I bike to the train station at 6, dark when we arrive in Copenhagen at 7:15, and getting light when we leave for Hamburg at 7:50.The train goes onto a ferry and then back onto land and into Hamburg at noon. It will be my first time in Germany. I'm

Amylounoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7513976.post-1108629556151624102005-02-17T09:05:00.000+01:002005-02-17T11:24:40.486+01:00

She raised her hand in the middle of yesterday's vetenskapsteori (scientific theory) lecture. I knew it would be trouble, as it usually is when this particular student has something to say. "Excuse me," she said but didn't mean, "I would like to know where you studied vetenskapsteori and if you found it 'jättetråkigt' (very boring)."I'm not sure how the teacher kept his composure. Surely I would

Amylounoreply@blogger.com