Busy Busy


Sorry I have been missing. Language classes started up again so my brain has been overloaded with irregular verbs and the philosophical reasons we are given on why a chair cannot be empty, but rather available. Then each night at least 3 hours of homework and I do it all over again the next day. I find myself losing English words. I did manage, in all of this, to finish a beautiful lace tank top in linen, a hot water bottle cozy, one Turkish sock by Anna Zilboorg, and a Rowan Calmer hat off of Knitty that my friend Katy sent me yarn for. I found my transfer key for the camera so I’ll attach some next time I write. Now there are no more beginners at this level in German (most come for a quick summer course then go back home) so I will start private lessons this week till I reach intermediate, which will be soon.

Today we went to Schwetzingen (the asparagus capital of Germany), which is about 20 minutes from here. (Smelled ok, in case you were wondering.) We heard their pedestrian area was really nice and their schloss (palace/castle) was great, too. So we went. The pedestrian area was anti-climactic. Nothing has compared to Heidelberg so far–no wonder it is the founding place of Romanticism. BUT there was a great traditional German restaurant and I had a Quark (a white cheese found only in this region, kinda like sour cream) salad with onions, boiled potatoes and a side salad. It was soo good. We had to hurry and get the bill before the carb coma set in.

The schloss was nice, though totally different than the castle in Heidelberg. The one in Heidelberg is more of what you would think of in a castle. But the schloss we saw today was in a Rococo (sure I am not spelling that right at all) style. It was huge and palacial and the gardens went as far as the eye could see in every direction. We took a tour of the inside (all in German). And they don’t skimp on any detail. At one point Mr. Left yawned so big that it actually sounded like a snore and we lost it–just started to crack up. This went on for two rooms (for me anyway). The next room an older lady let one rip and Mr. Left was laughing again. I was cracking up at the thought of just screaming in English, ‘Let me out of here–this is the worst tour ever!!’ It really was awful; even if it had been in English it would have been worse than a leg waxing I tell you. It was like watching Gosford Park in slo-mo, but worse. Now you get what I’m saying.


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