foomart foomart

Gotta love Chavez. Glad I got to see Venezuela before Mr. Danger declares war on them.

We're trying to figure out this Germany thing. The one thing I know for sure is that we can't afford to go, not even close. We're hand to mouth as it is, and going would be totally insane. So we're going. B has spent hours researching flights and train schedules to try to come up with a solid plan. It looks good but totally unrealistic financiallly...I've proposed a modified plan where we only see two out of the three games, and come home a week earlier than we would have. I think this may be closer to doable.

In any case, this means bidding hej då to sweet fluffy Swedish and digging into the German tapes. I have technically finished the Pimsleur Swedish mini-course, but I'm deeply unsatisfied. The last lesson was all, congratulations, you've completed the course, yay you, bye now! But, but... we were in the middle of learning to tell time! We only know the numbers 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 8, and 9! Does that sound complete to you? I know the word for "seven" is notoriously difficult for non-Swedes to pronounce, but dang, let me try already.

At least Swedish is a Germanic language, so between that and the Dutch refresher course my brain is already working in those patterns again. It's just a matter of getting in there and doing it. Don't know why I'm dreading it.

10:11 AM